![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
just visiting
In some ways, the easiest part of Meg's day is the part that she expected to be the hardest. After all, it hasn't quite been a month since Dean didn't want her to look at him or come into his room, which hadn't exactly boded well.
And now . . . well, mornings and evenings are hers to do with as she likes, really, but that basically means they're vast expanses of unfilled time she has to fill.
From about 11 o'clock in the morning to some point in the afternoon, she has something to do. Pick a menu, go downstairs and get food, knock on the door between the rooms, and have lunch with Dean. Then they play games for a while.
They had started with poker, almost accidentially, and then switch to blackjack for a while. And when they've exhausted their patience with that, Meg brings board games. Monopoly is a bust -- Dean manages about three circuits of the board before he asks if she's got anything else. Stratego is better, Clue is only so-so, and Meg learns that Dean is fiercely competetive when it comes to Battleship.
Risk, however, is a grand success, even if it does require Meg to ignore Dean's habit of impatiently fidgeting with the little plastic artilliary pieces while she's studying the board at the start of one of her turns. By the end of the third week, "lunch" is stretching well into the afternoon, and Dean has relaxed enough to start calling Meg "Napoleon" when she has occupied all of Europe. (He has most of Asia, at the time, and things ultimately go about as well there for Meg as they did for her historical nicknamesake.)
They play until it's obvious that it's time to stop for the day, either because a game ends or, well, just because it's time, and the game will be there tomorrow.
Meg takes the dishes down to Bar, thanks her, and climbs back up to her room, trying to think of something to do with the rest of the day.
And, having failed to come up with anything else, she opts to start with lying on her back across the bed and staring at the ceiling for a while.
And now . . . well, mornings and evenings are hers to do with as she likes, really, but that basically means they're vast expanses of unfilled time she has to fill.
From about 11 o'clock in the morning to some point in the afternoon, she has something to do. Pick a menu, go downstairs and get food, knock on the door between the rooms, and have lunch with Dean. Then they play games for a while.
They had started with poker, almost accidentially, and then switch to blackjack for a while. And when they've exhausted their patience with that, Meg brings board games. Monopoly is a bust -- Dean manages about three circuits of the board before he asks if she's got anything else. Stratego is better, Clue is only so-so, and Meg learns that Dean is fiercely competetive when it comes to Battleship.
Risk, however, is a grand success, even if it does require Meg to ignore Dean's habit of impatiently fidgeting with the little plastic artilliary pieces while she's studying the board at the start of one of her turns. By the end of the third week, "lunch" is stretching well into the afternoon, and Dean has relaxed enough to start calling Meg "Napoleon" when she has occupied all of Europe. (He has most of Asia, at the time, and things ultimately go about as well there for Meg as they did for her historical nicknamesake.)
They play until it's obvious that it's time to stop for the day, either because a game ends or, well, just because it's time, and the game will be there tomorrow.
Meg takes the dishes down to Bar, thanks her, and climbs back up to her room, trying to think of something to do with the rest of the day.
And, having failed to come up with anything else, she opts to start with lying on her back across the bed and staring at the ceiling for a while.
no subject
"But from the looks of it 'easier' isn't close kin to 'easy'."
no subject
"I don't think 'easy' was ever an option, was it?"
no subject
"Or you, once you agreed to help."
She does not apologize for that. There would be no point.
no subject
"So, easier is at least better than harder.
"I guess by definition."
no subject
"But perhaps the time has come to make things easier yet."
no subject
no subject
It's a simple question.
no subject
"I . . .
"I made a promise. I can't just walk away."
no subject
Michael raises both eyebrows.
"They do say that every bird must leave the nest at some point, don't they."
no subject
"You mean . . . my being here is . . .
"It's done the good it'll do. It'll stop. And then it'll start doing harm."
no subject
"But I think it may be time for Dean to stretch his own wings, take his own risks. For him to begin to prepare, as best he can, for a world in which he will be, by and large, on his own. Now that he is no longer so frightened as he was."
She spreads her hands at that.
"Or, perhaps, more capable of functioning through it, thanks in no small part to you."
no subject
"I can see that.
"It's still going to feel like abandoning him.
"But . . . it's not really about me, is it?"
no subject
Michael's voice is as gentle as she can make it.
(It still has very far to go.)
"But you're right, it isn't. Would you truly wish it to be?"
no subject
Who would?
"All right.
"I'll tell Castiel and Dean. And then I'll go home."
Because, yes, she would like to go home.
no subject
"Try to remember that, if you will."
no subject
"I will."
no subject
"I trust you."
And with that said, the archangel takes her leave.