goldeanboy:
dean took a deep breath and opened the door. he didn’t bother looking at it, he already knew what it looked like; it was forever imprinted in his brain, along with bez’s body. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think the death had taken place in his truck. he stepped out of the way so teejay could see.
“whatdya think? any way to make it look like i didn’t murder her back seat or should i just get the whole thing re-upholstered?”
teejay’s lungs whoosh empty once dean steps aside. the poor gal’s interior is absolutely wrecked. someone bled out in here. god, he wishes his mind weren’t so quick to snap that one together. tentative steps lead him closer to the truck’s doorway –– a shaking hand hovers a few inches over the back seat. never finishes its arc.
“ jee - sus... ”
he sees red. on his hands, ‘neath his nails, ‘cross his teeth. closin’ his eyes doesn’t do anything to wipe away that phantom metallic taste from his tongue. teejay retracts his hand. shoves both of ‘em down deep in his pockets.
“ it, uh... it ain’t pretty. ” he fights every instinct to keep his eyes clamped closed. “ ain’t impossible, but... ”
teejay blinks. pivots on his heels to face dean. “ assumin’ you already tried all the basics ? s’gonna take pure magic. ‘n a whole lotta peroxide. ”
he spares an over-shoulder glance at the vehicle. then wishes he didn’t.
“ whose, uh... ” a gulp. a grimace. he can’t bring himself to ask it. not directly.
“ they... okay ? ”












