bannion_sight | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's getting colder as the year moves deeper into fall, but it's not yet chill enough to keep Kim from wandering out by the lake for a breath of fresh air.

Currently she's standing near the water with her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket, looking curiously at an apple tree that's showing a remarkably bountiful harvest.

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Dean mutters something that sounds like 'goddamn apple trees'.

"There's no freaky-ass scarecrow thing lurking out here, is there?"

Because that would make a halfway okay day just that much worse.

Kinda par for the course, right?

"Um, not that I've seen," Kim says, turning back to him.

Beat.

"What's wrong with apple trees?"

Oops.

"Uh."

Uh.

"I really freaking hate apple pie?"

She's totally gonna buy that, right?

"Really?"

Kim looks startled.

He gives selling it the old college try -- too bad he never went to college.

"Uh. Well. Kinda, yeah."

Clear gray eyes are sharp with curiosity, but she doesn't press.

"Well. I guess I'd better knock apple off the list of pies I could make and bring to share, then," she says instead, lightly.

"Dude."

Dean looks like he's been smacked across the back of the head with the revelation-stick.

"You bake?"

Sign him up right now.

Uh.

She laughs.

"I do. Sometimes, anyway. It's a lot easier than other kinds of cooking, and was great for fundraisers back in school -- bake sales and the like, you know? Pies always went over well. Cupcakes and brownies, too."

"Man, I cannot tell you how long it's been since I had a brownie."

Well, one that didn't come in a little plastic wrapper with Hostess on the cover, anyway.

Or whatever other crap brands were lurking around gas stations.

"You could just ask for one here, you know," Kim points out, practically.

"But I tell you what, the next time I make a batch, I'll bring some in for you guys, how's that?"

Dean just looks at her, one eyebrow raised, as if to say dude.

"That takes all the fun out of it."

That and he's got an image to maintain.

Uh.

"Long as you don't make Sammy think I asked for 'em, I'm golden."

"Oh, well, far be it from you to do that," Kim teases. "And hey, older sibling conspiracy, remember? He'll never know."

"Awesome."

Dean grins.

"You're a lifesaver, Kim. And, you know, if the brownies don't suck you can snag an honorary chef hat, too. Or soemthing."

"Aren't those white? With my hair, no one'd be able to tell if I was wearing one," she observes.

Kim glances back at the tree.

"Too bad you don't like apple pie, though. I don't think I've ever seen a tree with that many apples on it before."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Dean gives the tree a cranky look.

"You don't think it's gonna start throwing 'em at us or anything, do you?"

"I doubt it," Kim says, "but there's one way to find out for sure--"

With that, she starts toward the tree.

He had to ask, didn't he?

Hell.

Dean follows her, still giving that tree a funny look.

At least no one around here has handcuffs and shit. Or rope.

Probably.

She steps under its branches and looks up -- and as she does, a small, unconscious smile creeps across her face.

"Well, it doesn't seem to be violent...."

Almost absently Kim reaches up toward one of the lower-hanging apples, her intent clear.

"Yeah, you say that now."

This is Milliways.

Shit is bound to get fucked up sooner or later.

"Just make sure I don't have to carry you back to the infirmary, okay? Or, you know, induce projectile vomiting. That shit is gross."

She stops, apple in hand, and gives him a startled look.

"... you're really wary about this, aren't you."

"Okay, so maybe I'm not out here a lot, but I'm pretty sure this apple tree wasn't anywhere near here last time, so. Uh."

Come on, Kim.

"Hell yeah I'm kinda iffy about it. You're telling me you're not?"

"I..."

There's a long pause, as Kim looks from him to the tree, then down to the apple in her hand.

"... well, I wasn't," she says, after several seconds. "I don't know if I can explain why."

Just a certainty resonating deep within her, at a level far below the conscious.

Huh.

"Oooookay. Does that kinda shit happen to you a lot?"

Because if it does, maybe the apples aren't being creepy.

Or maybe they still are, and Kim just has shitty luck.

"Sometimes," Kim tells him. "Not usually here, though -- well, not often, anyway."

She gives the apple one last look, then shrugs and puts it in her jacket pocket.

Dean just gives her another skeptical look.

There's a slight twist of a grin in it.

"Do I wanna ask?"

And does she wanna tell?

A beat, and then --

"You already did, once."

There's a hint of something bittersweet to her smile, and her words are very quiet.

"It's because I'm a Seer. It... sometimes I see things. Know things. That's all."

" . . . . even in Canada?"

Uh.

"I mean. Uh. England's kind of less of a surprise, I guess."

Um.

"So you're stuck with it, huh? All the weird crap that went down before."

All the weird crap that maybe shoulda stayed behind?

Edited 2009-10-06 05:43 (UTC)

"Just like the hair," she says, wryly. "It's part of me; part of who I am."

In more ways than one, given that she bears Ysanne's soul as a twin of her own.

"It always will be."

"Yeah, well."

He shrugs a little, awkwardly.

This is the kind of shit Dean sucks at.

"You see me complainin'?"

It's easier to take this kind of thing here. Sometimes.

Kind of.

Maybe one day he'll figure out how to say this kind of shit to Sam.

Or maybe Sam'll figure out how not to need to hear it.

Nah.

It's hard to miss that level of awkward.

Kim scrutinizes him for a second or two, gray eyes almost disturbingly clear and bright, then lets her breath out in a soft sigh.

"No," she says, quietly. "Not really."

Dean quirks a crooked smile, pulling himself from thinking about shit he can't do a damn thing to fix.

"I'd offer to make pie or something, but -- dude, I burn Rice Krispie treats."

Speaking of changing the subject --

Edited 2009-10-06 06:04 (UTC)

Her smile flashes, sudden and mischievous.

"We wouldn't want that-- the waitrats might throw you out."

"Okay, now that was pretty damn creepy."

He's grinning, though, and looking a little more comfortable.

"Those things're built more like ants, I swear."

"Except with fewer legs," Kim points out, very practically.

"And fur. And tails. And--"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean says, waving one hand in the air like it's gonna get him something.

"Whatever. But in principle, with the whole strength thing, they're kinda the same."

"Oh."

A beat. Kim looks intrigued by the concept.

"I hadn't thought of it like that before," she says.

"Yeah, well. You should hang out with me more often, then. Open up to a whole new view of reality."

He spreads his arms out, shit-eating grin on his face.

When you got it, flaunt it, right?

Plus, you know -- more distraction from the previous awkward is always a plus.

Kim giggles.

"Of reality, is it?"

"As much as this weirdass place ever is, anyway."

What? Like he's gonna argue?

"Good enough, I guess."

She shakes her head, smiling.

"As far as hanging out goes -- any interest in heading back inside? It's getting colder out here, and I haven't had coffee in almost an hour," Kim concludes, dramatically.

Dean laughs.

"Yeah, guess we better go fix that, stat."

Before Kim goes off and tries something crazy.

"Stat?"

Now Kim's laughing, too.

"We'll make a doctor out of you yet."

"Nah," Dean says, lazy as anything.

"Field medic, maybe. I'll let you try, if you want."

He's already got most of the skills down.

"Coffee first," she decides. "We can get to the practical stuff later."

"Works for me, sweetheart."

It works for Dean just fine.

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