Fandom: Original – A-Fic
Word Count: 640
Characters: Dean, Nick
Warnings: Some alcohol use.
Prompt/request: One from hylandr, here.
Notes: Takes place during Nick's mandatory time off, as specified in the "banana bread" arc of stories.
"It's not that hard to move in the dark," Nick explained, with overly careful enunciation. "You know that? Most people think it's very hard to move in the dark. But we can see better than we think we can see." He took another drink of Dean's homemade wine. "I close my eyes in the dark when I'm going to move, and I don't bump into anything at all. I think I do better than – no, I know I do better than if I had my eyes open."
Dean said nothing. He couldn't remember Nick ever getting tipsy before, though that didn't mean anything. But he was sure he'd remember Nick being a boring drunk, if it had happened previously. He refilled his own glass.
"It's like they did tests once I think, back on Earth," Nick continued, waving his free hand around as if to help demonstrate his point. "And they found that even blind people can see colors and shapes as long as they could see before they became blind."
"That doesn't make sense, Nick." Dean knew it was a mistake to argue with someone under the influence, but he couldn't help himself. Besides, it would be penance for allowing Nick to get this far anyway. Nick had never tried any of Dean's homemade wine, until Dean got hold of some fruit and made a small quantity of cherry-peach wine just for personal use. Frankly, you couldn't use the resulting tiny quantity of product for anything but personal use. It was sweet, of course, and had a stronger cherry flavor than Dean had anticipated. Nick was curious and had asked to try some; Dean had figured his roommate and longtime friend knew what his limits would be. In that respect, Dean had figured wrong, from the look of things.
"No, see, as long as you know what the thing should look like, then you know what it should look like even when you can't see it," Nick persisted. "So even in a room you've never seen before, never been in, you can still find your way around when you can't see 'cause you can still see it."
"Explain that, then. How you can see with your eyes closed."
Nick opened his mouth and stared above Dean's head for a moment, the very picture of a man trying to marshal his thoughts in a losing battle. "It's science," he finished, and drained his glass. "That's good stuff. It burns a bit though."
"Uh... really." Dean eyed his own glass. "Why don't you head to bed?"
"I'm not drunk. I just need some coffee and we'll be fine."
"Okay, that's it." Dean got to his feet and hauled Nick upright. "Say goodnight, Nicky."
"But your name's Dean." Nick giggled at his own joke. Dean rolled his eyes.
Nick went along willingly, if not steadily, to his room and bed, trying to tell a story as he did so that he claimed he'd heard from his owner back on Earth. Dean didn't even try to follow what sounded like the disappearance of some red satin boxers in a sheikh's harem; it was possible Nick didn't remember some critical bit anyway, in his current state.
"There," he said, pulling back the blanket – sometimes Nick didn't use a top sheet, and this was one of those months, it looked like – and helped his roommate into bed. "Get some sleep and you'll be much better." Ignoring that you might have a hangover, of course.
Still fully clothed, Nick pulled the blanket up, then looked at Dean with an odd expression.
"What?" Dean wondered if he had a wine-stain mustache.
"You're very strange," Nick said.
And that was all he said, so the moment stretched out awkwardly until Nick yawned, giving Dean an excuse to leave the room, shutting off the light as he did so.