cained | 👻🎈🤡🥧

[ Taking some time off at the bunker was exactly what she needed to get her head back on straight. She'd felt more capable of taking on New York and her job after spending ten days not thinking about any of it at all, but going back after the relative safety and warmth of the place she'd carved out for herself in Kansas had been rough. Bearable, but rough. She's been caught up in catching up since returning, but she's always got time for Dean.

The time difference isn't too bad between them isn't too bad. When he calls, she's just brushed her teeth, picking up as she's about to slide into bed. Comfortable, relaxed, and attention 100% on the voice in her ear. ]

Dean, [ she answers, warm and delighted. She grins at his reply, leaning back against the headboard. It's only been a week since they saw each other. ] Yeah? Missing me already?

( not on purpose, he wants to say, but he takes a bite of his burger instead, answering her with half a mouth full. if he were on the phone with anyone else, it might be rude to talk and eat, but she knows him well enough by now that he imagines it's charming more than it is impolite. )

Can you blame me? ( he swallows, grinning at the photo of her on his call screen as if she's sitting right across from him. ) How're things in the Big Apple?

( it might be small talk, but he really does want to know how she's doing — and it's not like he can start off right out of the gate with so i forgot literally everything about my life for a few days, what's up with you? he'll get there, he just needs to ease into it. )

[ More than half their conversations over the past couple of months happened over a meal on either or both ends of the line. It's strangely comforting — or touching, that there's no call to impress here, no facades. And if Dean's had a doozy of a few days then of course he's going for his favourite burger. She gets that.

She huffs out a breath, almost like a laugh, at his question. Dean knows better than anyone that the Big Apple is what sent her fleeing to the bunker in the first place not too long ago. Sure, there were other factors, but the city that never sleeps sure knows how to put pressure on a woman trying to hustle. It's not small talk, coming from that; it's genuine. ]

Noisy. Crowded. Cold, kinda muggy and damp. It's the grossest time of the year, that's for sure. At least we don't have any bottomless slush puddles at the crosswalks to jump over, ugh. [ The worst. She pauses, knowing what he's really asking after. ] I've just been easing back into work. Baby steps, you know?

( he can imagine it, the noise and the crowds, people bundled up and shuffling down the damp streets of new york, everyone with somewhere more important to be than everyone else. he definitely doesn't miss the city, that's for sure. the last time he was there, he was with her, waking up on a cold november morning in her bed. he misses that morning — the way the sun lit up her hair, the press of his mouth between her shoulder blades — more than he misses where it was. he could take or leave new york city, but bev he's not sure he could ever give up anymore. )

Mmmhm. ( just to let her know he's listening in between bites. ) No reason to push yourself too hard. As much as I'd love to have you back at La Casa de Winchester, I don't want it to be because you're about ready to commit murder. That's my job.

( the murder part. (wait, i ... i kill people?) it's supposed to be a joke, but, well, it doesn't quite land the way he'd intended, like there's something just slightly off. )

[ The city holds more life and possibilities for her now than it ever did in the past, free as she is from the shackles of It's curse and Tom's iron grip. She feels like she's getting reacquainted with everything — places, people, herself. Taking Dean around after that incredible November night had been as much for her as it was for him.

She misses that morning too, and every morning they've shared together since. On the tenth floor of her apartment bathed in sun or underground at the bunker by lamplight, it's his familiar warmth beside her that made it so memorable. She's not sure she could give that up, either, which is why him mentioning her coming back makes her heart pang a little wistfully. ]

That's funny, [ she teases back gently, as that odd shift in his voice hits her a second later. He kills monsters; she wouldn't go as far as saying that's murder. If she did, then what is she, after Pennywise? ] I thought your job was looking out for Sam and saving the world.

( it's been a weird evening, reacquainting himself with ... well, himself. the important things have all come back: his name, his family (sam most of all, a whirlwind of complicated history), bev, what he does for a living even though he doesn't get paid shit for it. but there are still little things that are coming back to him — the kind of music he likes, blaring over the impala speakers, the extensive film and television repertoire that makes up 90% of his personality, his favorite foods. walking into his room at the bunker feels like a moment of revelation, the fog lifting in his mind. so much of himself is in his room; he almost has to laugh at himself for being such an open fucking book.

even little distinctions like the difference between committing murder and killing monsters he's still getting caught up on. his face pinches, like he should have known that, frustrated almost that it didn't occur to him until just now. )

Right. Yeah, of course it is. That's what I meant. ( was it? ) Just testing you, babe.

[ She can't see him, but somehow she feels like she can — something about the gap between their replies, the way he smooths over it with a little less finesse than he'd probably like her to notice. It could be nothing; any other time, she might even dismiss it as much, but the way he greeted her on the phone, the aside about his last hunt... It does make her own brows draw together, just for a moment.

Huh. ]

Not hard as far as tests go, [ she replies, her voice still light and buoyant. ] Pretty sure we covered that in Winchester 101 last summer. [ When they were getting reacquainted over the phone. She lets that quip settle comfortably for a beat, then she adds, more curious than concerned for now: ] You okay? You sound beat.

Edited 2020-08-23 19:46 (UTC)

( his lips pull as if to smile, but he doesn't quite commit to it, picking up his beer and taking a sip from it instead. it's no surprise bev's already picked up on the strangeness of dean's behavior; he wouldn't expect any less from her, really. at this point, he'd be more surprised if she didn't realize something was a little off with him.

he laughs dryly, shaking his head. beat is definitely one word for it. he almost says nothing i can't handle, but then — well, what was the point of calling? he recognizes, even if it's only subconscious, that he needs help working through this one. someone with a similar perspective. someone like bev, who is uniquely qualified in the lost memories department. )

Yeah, it's just — ( well. there's no way to not just say it, is there. ) — ugh, fucking witches. Got whammied by this fucking memory spell. A day ago I couldn't even remember who I was, let alone anything else. ( he sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, pinches the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. ) Was that what it was like before Derry? Living your life without knowing who you really were? Like a shell in a fog.

[ There's something that happens when he says memory spell. In the half-heartbeat between those words and his elaboration on them, her stomach swoops and goes cold; and even though she's reclining in bed now, it feels like every molecule of her being has gone completely still, neither tense or relaxed, just — frozen. When Dean tells her what happened, even though it's in the past tense, there's no shaking that kneejerk terror that dug its claws into her and the other Losers when they eventually left Derry.

They forgot everything once before. No guarantee it wouldn't happen again. It didn't, it's been nearly a year now since the reunion, but she still has nightmares about forgetting. Being forgotten. She just never thought it would happen to Dean.

Just as he pinches the bridge of his nose, her free hand comes up to cover her eyes, taking a steady breath. He's obviously fine now (he called her, he knows her), the curse broken for him like it had been for her. But if he's asking her about Derry, then she knows he must still be shaken by it. Of course he is. Who wouldn't be? Your memories are what make you... you. ]

Yeah. [ It's softly said, more air than voice. She swallows, throat suddenly dry, and presses on more audibly. ] Yeah, kind of. I just felt — empty, I guess, but I didn't know why. Like I knew something was missing but I didn't even remember enough to care that it was missing. Didn't even realise how much of me wasn't me until it all came back, like I was just this... idea of Beverly Marsh.

[ A beat. ]

You met me before Derry. You remember who I used to be.

Edited 2020-08-24 05:55 (UTC)

( he does remember, all too well, in fact. he remembers staring up at that oppressive painting of mr. and mrs. tom rogan, remembers the way tom came stomping into the foyer, his meaty hand settling heavily on bev's shoulder, the way she practically wilted, withdrew, became so small like she wanted to just disappear. only dean wouldn't let her, kept a watchful gaze on her (as if to check in with her, say are you okay?) despite the domineering and oppressive force of tom rogan — who, really, dean tried to be polite to; if sam hadn't been there, he really would have decked the guy.

Yeah. Yeah, I remember. ( he almost wishes he didn't, but there's something grounding about being able to talk to her about this. to be able to look back and see how far she's come since that day they met, to know that these feelings he has for her, whatever they may be (the safety, the warmth of her in her life), are just as real as she is. ) I mean, I feel like me, but ... I'm not even sure how much is still missing. ( he takes another bite of his burger, continuing with his mouth full. ) Can't believe I forgot how good burgers are. I swear, if Sam made me eat a salad while I was whammied, I'm gonna kill him.

( because the thought of being forced to eat vegetables is clearly the worst part of this whole experience. )

[ The moment when Tom interrupted her interview with the Winchesters (who she believed to be FBI agents at the time) is seared into her memory, not because of how he'd done it — unflinching, with a quiet, possessive fury in his grip — but because of how Dean had locked eyes with her, full of silent reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere until he had to. That kindness from a total stranger had meant so much to her in that instant, lingered in the weeks after. It's why she kept his card.

She's relieved when he tells her, without hesitation or call to jog his memory, that he remembers it too. That he still feels like himself. Beverly didn't even realise how worried she'd been about that until he says it, until he admits I'm not even sure how much is still missing. Yeah, she gets that too. Tiny pieces kept coming back to her in the days after they killed It. Weeks. But that had been 27 years' worth of magical amnesia, not 27 hours (or more). ]

Salads are good for you, [ she murmurs absently, warmth washing through her voice despite the conversation. Then — ] So it wasn't just your memories, it was... everything? Are you eating a burger right now? Like it's the first one you've ever had in your life?

[ That's... wild. ]

God. Magic's a pain in the ass.

Edited 2020-08-27 03:41 (UTC)

( the instinct to sarcastically mimic salads are good for you is immediate, though he does so mostly with a fond eyeroll and the tug of his upper lip into an immature sneer. he's still five when he wants to be, apparently.

the question at hand reels him back in, and he mumbles mmhmm around another mouthful of burger. magic sure is a pain in the ass. )

Oh yeah, everything. We're talking memories, but also just — regular shit. Like what inanimate objects are called. How to tie my shoes. ( he swallows hard, making a delighted sound in the back of his throat. ) God, this burger is fucking awesome. Who knew I could cook? Most I could remember up until twenty minutes ago was heating up Spaghetti-Os and weenies for Sam. But the second I stepped foot into the Bunker kitchen, man, lemme tell you. It was like having some kinda religious experience. And I say this having met most of the guys upstairs: that experience was better.

[ Oh, that's worse. That's so much worse. Losing yourself is one thing but being stripped of the basics is — horrifying. She doesn't tell him that, likely doesn't have to, and she swallows down the tight feeling in her throat. He's fine. The laugh that breaks itself free of her knotted chest is a welcome release. ]

Yeah, honey, you're a great cook. The first time you made me breakfast blew my fucking mind — I mean, maybe it was the sex before and after — but those pancakes... [ She huffs out a breath, fond. ] It's one of my favourite things about you. When we started reconnecting, I was figuring out all the stuff I actually liked to eat, you know? Not just the stuff I thought I should eat as that Bev.

[ Yeah, salads are good for you but not the only thing she's "allowed" to have. She can enjoy desserts, burgers, peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwiches. A frapp from Starbucks with real milk! ]

Our... not-dates? When you'd swing by town? It was always like eating something for the first time. You're responsible for like fifty percent of my new favourite dishes.

( it's things like making bev breakfast for the first time that got lost somewhere in the magic fog, but the way she reminds him ... it's like clouds parting after a heavy rain, the sky opening up to let the sunshine in. she's been such a constant source of light in his life over the past several months, it's no wonder he feels so warm when he hears her talk about him. no wonder all that warmth brings out the best of all the things he'd forgotten: cooking for her, helping her discover new things, the joy of sharing a homecooked meal together. )

You don't say. ( it's not disbelieving; he's impressed, almost, maybe a little surprised. the sex doesn't catch him off guard — that came back pretty fast, a reel of extremely vivid film playing over in his head as soon as he stepped foot in the bunker, traces of bev everywhere. but had he actually known that bit about being responsible for her favorite dishes or was that something he's just now realizing? either way, the thought of it makes him a little breathless, a soft chuckle passing his lips. ) Might have to reacquaint me with those favorites. It's still a little fuzzy.

[ She has to remind herself that the magic was temporary and that Dean's memory won't be like this forever, especially if she helps coax it back to every corner they share together. That's how it was with the Losers after they'd killed It; the longer they were together, the faster everything came back, and with more clarity. How many hours did they spend reminiscing together in the lounge at the inn, or around Eddie's hospital bed? Remember when was an oft-repeated phrase and it helped, everything clicking back into place.

She can help here too. Why not? The memories warm her inside and out too. ]

Remember that underground tiki-themed bar we found in Hell's Kitchen?

[ Before they started this whole thing between them; back when they were just friends. (But was that visit already one of his intentional detours to see her? Or was he really just coming off a case nearby? She does love puzzling it out, finding the breadcrumb trail that led to where they are now.) ]

It was pouring rain so we just ran into the first open door we saw. And we lucked out 'cause it was Taco Tuesday for them — [ She grins, audible in her voice. ] Three dollar tacos. You were so excited. But they also had these totchos on the menu, fucking tater tot nachos with queso, chili, guac, pico... oh my God, they were crazy, and you had to try them and I thought, what the hell, right? [ On a laugh: ] Then we ate our way through two orders. I still crave them when it rains.

( he can practically hear the rain outside on that particular night in hell's kitchen, the warm lighting of the bar, his delight at three dollar tacos and totchos. he nearly chokes on the bite of burger in his mouth as he bursts out laughing, remembering with such clarity the mound of tater tots and nachos smothered in all the best fixins. )

Oh my God. Totchos, of course. Those things were awesome.

( had he gone out of his way to see her that time? absolutely. was it worth it? always. truthfully, only the first couple of times had been happenstance. )

Consider them on the menu next time I'm in town.

[ His laugh makes something bright and golden bloom in her chest, shakes loose another one of her own. More than half the photos she has of Dean on her phone are of him excited about food — or with one of the many pop culture landmarks in the city. Strange to know how much of those things make up who he is but not realise their true defining impact until you're trying to slot the pieces back into place. ]

I'll hold you to that, [ she tells him, chuckling. ] And then we'll go get Belgian waffles to wash it all down because go big or go home, you know?

I told you, the city is really something else when you're with me. Every time I think I know New York, you point out something new. Like the album cover for Physical Graffiti? [ For his favourite band. She's trying to jog that memory as gently as she can. ] Only a geek like you or Richie could look at some random buildings and pull out trivia that obscure.

Edited 2020-09-07 14:14 (UTC)

( they've always fed off of each other's laughter, usually to the annoyance of the less enthusiastic people around them, but right now it's just them, so it's easy to keep the momentum going. it feels right, comfortable. and even if he forgot how well she knows him, there's no question about it now. )

Whoa, hey — geek? C'mon. ( not that he's really offended; she should know this is just his natural response to being put on the same level as richie tozier, who really is a geekwad extraordinaire. ) Physical Graffiti is only, like, the definitive Zepp album. I still can't believe you took me to that exact neighborhood accidentally, Miss I-planned-seven-very-specific-dates-for-us-even-though-we're-not-dating. I'm telling you, babe, if you hadn't already gotten into my pants, that would've been the moment.

( accidental or not, zepp is always an automatic win. )

You come on. [ That doesn't make sense, but like his comebacks are any better half the time. She's still laughing. ] Some of my best friends are geeks!

[ Like the aforementioned Mr Tozier and co. They aren't called the Losers Club for nothing! And she wears that badge with pride; that, and the tease he tosses her way about her romantic scheming. Was it all an accident? No, she can't say that. The dates were specific, incredibly deliberate, and the gangster museum being on the same street as an album cover photo was one stroke of luck in a hundred strokes of luck that led them to where they are now.

But, yeah, okay. When he puts it like that... Well, he can't see her blushing over a phone call. ]

Hey, don't make it sound like I'm some kind of romcom mastermind! You're an open book when it comes to the stuff you love. [ And she was keen on reading and memorising every line. ] And it seemed like, I don't know — every time we spoke you were coming off of some crazy case — [ like now ] — so I wanted to take your mind off things for a while. [ She chuckles. ] I just didn't think sleeping together would come before the dates.

[ As if she minded. She very much did not mind at all. ]

I did knock it outta the park with those Fiddler tickets, though, didn't I? Talk about a moment.

( it doesn't make sense, but it does spur his laughter on, so surely it counts for something. he can barely focus on what's left of his burger, distracted by the warmth of her voice and the memories it unearths: bundled up in the crisp new york air, bev tucked up next to him, her arm linked with his as she toured him around the city with him in mind for each destination; the specific memory of feeling seen bubbling to the surface, even before they ever sealed the deal.

how the hell did he get this lucky? maybe the losers really do exude lucky seven energy. )

You did great, babe. Probably the most relaxed I'd ever been, which is saying something. ( second only to her surprise visit to the bunker (a whole week of bev to himself does wonders for all the tension in his life). if he's honest, he's starting to realize any time he gets to spend with bev automatically relaxes him.

he can only vaguely remember mentioning fiddler to her, or maybe sam had behind his back, but either way ... talk about a moment indeed. ) Honestly never thought you'd get my ass in a Broadway theatre, but who the hell can say no to Fiddler? Better put wooing on your resume, Bev. I think you outclassed me that weekend. And, gotta say, that's pretty damn impressive.

[ She feels the same way: the stress of her life melting away the second they're back in each others' arms. It's why she went to the bunker, why they call each other at the end of long, hard days. It's not about making it disappear, really, but being together makes her feel a little more capable of taking everything else head on. She feels similarly with the Losers, bolstered by their good humour and the bonds they forged in blood. (Literally.) But Dean just gets under her skin in a way that's new and different.

She's definitely blushing now if she wasn't before, warmed and pleased by the compliment, and maybe he can hear it in the breathy way she laughs, almost like she's embarrassed as well as delighted. ]

Yeah, well, like I said — I didn't really have to try. [ Maybe he doesn't remember yet, but: ] I didn't think I'd get your ass in one either! That's why it wasn't on my list. But we walked past the marquee on our way to Pie Face and you got this look on your face, so I said, "I didn't know you liked Fiddler," and you were like, "You mean the greatest musical of our time?" [ She's not Richie. This impression of Dean Winchester isn't great. But it's not bad, either. ] "C'mon, I have some class!"

[ She laughs. ]

I literally texted my friend about comps like two seconds later.

👻🎈🤡🥧

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