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OOM-but-not
Things are a bit busy at home right now. It's a good sort of busy, but it's also a very busy sort of busy.
So Meg is gratefully taking advantage of an unexpected trip to the end of the universe, where she take an hour to sit and have a cup of tea and read her book, without messing up anyone's schedules or getting behind on anything.
Some days, it's the little things.
So Meg is gratefully taking advantage of an unexpected trip to the end of the universe, where she take an hour to sit and have a cup of tea and read her book, without messing up anyone's schedules or getting behind on anything.
Some days, it's the little things.
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"I don't of any way to make this any easier to talk about."
It's just hard.
Always had been.
Probably always will be.
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Sam clears his throat, then repeats it.
"It's not your fault. None of it is. You don't have anything to apologize for, Meg."
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There's a slight pause.
"There are things I can't tell you and things I won't tell you, but if you have other questions, I'll try to answer them."
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Even if she could tell him, there's no way he wants to put her through that again.
"Or, wait. I don't... I just..."
"Thanks."
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"And feel free to treat that as a standing offer, Sam. If it make anything easier for you or Dean or both of you."
It's never been what Meg needed, after all.
And she knew that when she agreed to do it.
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"I owe you one."
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(She doesn't tell him that he doesn't, because there are certain statements you don't throw back in people's faces, even if you don't really believe them to be in your debt.)
"Will you two be all right?"
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"Yeah."
He makes himself smile, at least a little.
"Yeah, we will. It's kinda rough right now, but -- it's just gonna take some time, that's all."
And Lilith's death; that'll help, too.
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"It's not thing to rush.
"And, hey. If all else fails, there are always board games.
"Dean and I played a lot of them."
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He can't quite imagine it, but he finds the idea oddly striking.
"Which ones?"
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"A lot of poker, too. I generally lost.
"He didn't care much for Monopoly."
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"No, I guess not."
A beat.
"And yeah, Dean's pretty good at poker."
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"But, yes, he is.
"I lost a lot of M&Ms to him."
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"I'd probably still be paying him back if we had been."
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He tries another smile. This one's steadier.
"You can win it all back while he's surprised, maybe."
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But that's not the point, really, of this part of the conversation.
"Couldn't I just challenge him to something I'm already good at?
"Like . . . knitting, or crossword puzzles?"
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"Crossword -- you might be surprised."
Whether he's telling the truth or not, no one can say.
"But if you get him in a knitting competition, I want pictures."
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Not probably, but possibly.
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"I should, um ... I should probably get back before it gets too late. I think I'm supposed to be bringing dinner, so..."
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"I hope things work out. For both of you."
She'll be praying for them.
"Have a good evening, Sam."
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He gets to his feet, then hesitates by her table.
"And, uh, if I don't see you again before - happy wedding, okay?"
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"Be well."
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Sam raises his hand in a small, slightly awkward wave, and heads off toward the door.