Perhaps an hour has passed since he first mentioned going to bed, but Dean certainly hadn’t caught on to the passing of time just yet; instead, he’d busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen for once — it wasn’t much, just tossing the trash left from the night’s choice of take-out, but the gesture still felt like a small victory. It would save them from doing it in the morning ( or, whenever the pair decided to crawl their way out of bed ), and, truthfully, it gave his partner the time to get comfortable before they called it a night. Over the past few weeks, he’d learned how time consuming these things are, and he’d also learned not to rush it; he hadn’t yet learned, however, just how impatient the younger man could be.
Dean is standing in the kitchen, drinking his last beer of the night, when he catches sight of Jaime staggering his way into the room. Not once does his mind consider the option of assisting his friend — he seemed to be doing just fine, and he knows good and well that if roles were reversed, he himself would refuse any help. And so he stands there, watching and waiting — when Jaime collapses onto the couch, Dean finally finishes his beer, tossing the bottle into the trash before crossing what little space separated them.
“What, you don’t like hobbling your way around?” he asks, a smile and light tone easily giving the words an air of friendliness as he moves to sit next to his friend. “Y’know, you coulda called across the apartment. I would’ve come to you.”
“Bah, and ruin the surprise? Not a damn chance,” he says, all while trying to sit himself up properly in the small seat. It takes him a moment before he gives up and stretches out, his head against his roommate’s arm. “Y’know damn well that I’m perfectly capable of gettin’ ‘round, just takes me a minute. ‘sides, like I’d know where you’d be.” It’s not all that difficult to find something or someone in the one bedroom apartment, but still, the point stands. He wouldn’t admit it was because he wanted to make this whole night a challenge for himself. Most people weren’t too keen on the idea of amputees, especially doubles, hopping around on their own. Even if they didn’t say it out loud.
Jaime tries to push himself up again, fighting against sunken furniture and his own scrawny body mass. It’d be his second accomplishment of the evening; the hobbling was already difficult enough, with the added frustration of having to do it all over again when they finally did get up and head to bed. but he did this to himself. No one else to blame. When he finally does hoist himself up, that signature stupid grin is plastered on his face. “See? It ain’t all so bad.”
“Anyway, ‘sides the whole’ you need to hurry up’ bit, I wanted to ask if you were sure about Australia. I don’ mind goin’ on me own.” With the weeks drawing closer to that predicament ( one that featured an old partner, explosives, and not one, not three, but two old school minivans as means of escape ), the thought of being alone with certain someones, even while being in his homeland, is a intimidating.
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