Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-07-14 08:51 pm
hasperkynipples) wrote2009-07-14 08:51 pm
Entry tags:
[CL] Eloquent!Dean
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failuretotrust used with permission. Set in Livin’ on a Prayer.]
“I don’t like this place.”
“You never like a place like this,” Beth said, shooting him a look as they made their way into the restaurant. “But this is a business dinner, so be nice and don’t say anything too—offensive.”
“Sweetheart, this is me,” Dean said, giving her a bit of a smirk, before heading towards the table. “I’m a joy to be around.”
Beth was probably rolling her eyes, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention. He was stuck in a monkey suit, having dinner with people he was seriously uncomfortable around. Two hours later, they were still in the same position, Dean was bored out of his mind, and they were talking about something that didn’t interest him, but he was paying mild attention. He was a multitasker, he could look bored and listen at the same time.
Then there’s the douchebag who’d been looking for a chance to trip him up all night, and that was starting to piss him off. He was one of those guys, the kind that knew what he wanted and liked to screw around with the people who got between him and it, and really had issues with taking no for an answer. Dean didn’t like him. And Dean wasn’t exactly shy about hiding that fact. They had been doing their own form of a standoff all night, and he was relishing the opportunities to call Dean up on just how uncultured he was. Everything from music to high society, and Dean was really, really starting to get sick of it.
Then the topic of conversation turned to books. Books Dean actually knew. Not old stuffy books but current books, and that was why when the conversation turned to him, he couldn’t help but take his opportunity to rub it back in his face for making him look like an idiot all night.
“Orwell was talking about oppression in all its forms. How the media can get into your head and believe things that are beyond the truth with its all encompassing media, shoving what they want us to believe down our throats and not allowing for the fact that there may be other points of view out there. When there’s only on flow of information, there’s no way a person can get all the answers.”
At that point, everyone at the table, with the exception of Beth, was staring at him in a bit of stunned silence. Dean’s eyes darted to each of them, trying his best to fight off the smirk, knowing that he had just pretty much upped the ante for himself.
“What? I read.”
“You’ve read 1984,” Douchebag said, still continuing to stare at him. “And you understood it.”
At that, Dean couldn’t keep back the grin. “Like being kicked in the nuts, isn’t it?”
That actually got him a look from his wife. But it was so worth it.
482 words
failuretotrust used with permission. Set in Livin’ on a Prayer.]“I don’t like this place.”
“You never like a place like this,” Beth said, shooting him a look as they made their way into the restaurant. “But this is a business dinner, so be nice and don’t say anything too—offensive.”
“Sweetheart, this is me,” Dean said, giving her a bit of a smirk, before heading towards the table. “I’m a joy to be around.”
Beth was probably rolling her eyes, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention. He was stuck in a monkey suit, having dinner with people he was seriously uncomfortable around. Two hours later, they were still in the same position, Dean was bored out of his mind, and they were talking about something that didn’t interest him, but he was paying mild attention. He was a multitasker, he could look bored and listen at the same time.
Then there’s the douchebag who’d been looking for a chance to trip him up all night, and that was starting to piss him off. He was one of those guys, the kind that knew what he wanted and liked to screw around with the people who got between him and it, and really had issues with taking no for an answer. Dean didn’t like him. And Dean wasn’t exactly shy about hiding that fact. They had been doing their own form of a standoff all night, and he was relishing the opportunities to call Dean up on just how uncultured he was. Everything from music to high society, and Dean was really, really starting to get sick of it.
Then the topic of conversation turned to books. Books Dean actually knew. Not old stuffy books but current books, and that was why when the conversation turned to him, he couldn’t help but take his opportunity to rub it back in his face for making him look like an idiot all night.
“Orwell was talking about oppression in all its forms. How the media can get into your head and believe things that are beyond the truth with its all encompassing media, shoving what they want us to believe down our throats and not allowing for the fact that there may be other points of view out there. When there’s only on flow of information, there’s no way a person can get all the answers.”
At that point, everyone at the table, with the exception of Beth, was staring at him in a bit of stunned silence. Dean’s eyes darted to each of them, trying his best to fight off the smirk, knowing that he had just pretty much upped the ante for himself.
“What? I read.”
“You’ve read 1984,” Douchebag said, still continuing to stare at him. “And you understood it.”
At that, Dean couldn’t keep back the grin. “Like being kicked in the nuts, isn’t it?”
That actually got him a look from his wife. But it was so worth it.
482 words