cacophonish | DUPLICITY: INBOX

( Jeff Calhoun's first Wednesday is Dean Winchester's first Wednesday at Crimson.

At two o'clock Dean lets himself into Crimson. He's used to routine. He's never opened a bar before, but he has a good memory and a step-by-step guide should he need to remind himself of any of the steps. It feels good to focus on something - despite the circumstances of this city and the video still ingrained into his memory, he needs to work. Aspire to something while he slowly and quietly rebels.

While setting up, Dean plays music that reminds him of home, that Jeff might recognize as almost sounding right. He likes the methodical and necessary way he gets to set the bar up just so.

He double checks his list, moves to marry the bottles behind the bar, and turns off his own music on his device, living with whatever plays over the speakers.

Always with a glass of whiskey he nurses behind the bar, Dean sips leisurely, but doesn't get trashed. He knows someone's coming in to perform, sort of a trial period. Dean likes live music, but he's hoping it's not folksy or chickish, or even worse, shitty covers. )

[ His first solo show.

It's kind of a big milestone, and Jeff doesn't even know if he should celebrate it or just push the thought to the back of his mind and ignore it as best he can. He misses Ally-- he misses the others, too, sure, but Ally's the one who was with him from the start. From the first time he was on stage, to the last...

That fucking disaster.

Her absence looms so large, and he knows none of their songs sound quite right without her on the drums (not to mention the lack of bass, of backing vocals, anything outside of his voice and his guitar). But hey, he's a fucking professional. He's a star (sort of, kind of, in his own tiny niche in LA's underground). Jeff swallows back his nerves, and he gets up on stage, and he performs like he was born for it.

(Up here all alone. This is what you always wanted, isn't it? a voice that sounds a little like Ally's spits in his head. Ignore it, ignore it...)

He plays a mix of songs from home (Nervous Tix originals), a couple new pieces he wrote here in Duplicity, and a handful of covers to pad things out (nothing past the early 90s, since, well, he doesn't know any songs from the future). But more than that, he's conversational, playful, totally at ease with the crowd. He tells silly, stupid stories to lead into songs, cracks a few jokes, talks back to the audience here and there. It goes a long way towards making up for the lack of backing musicians. At one point, he pulls a girl up on stage with him, so she can fill in where Ally would normally be singing along. It's messy and chaotic, but totally fun, and people seem to dig it.

Not bad for his first solo outing. The magic he sings into the club certainly helps. Lights bursting, raining, like ephemeral glitter, and just the subtlest sparks of ecstasy to make the crowd giddy (nothing crazy, just a tiny boost!)...

When it's over, he's riding high on adrenaline. Fuck, he feels... normal? Fucking normal, in the best way, like he hasn't spent the past however-many months brain-fried from trauma and drugs and hallucinations.

Next step: get shitfaced, take someone home. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, hyped, drumming his fingers on the bar. He grins when he sees Dean. ]

Dude! Hey! Didn't know you worked here.

( If that isn't Jeff. He saw Jeff on the network, gave his cover a listen - Hole is underrated and Courtney Love forever-hot (RIP Kurt Cobaine), but he didn't track all of the replies. So, it's a surprise when it's Jeff Calhoun setting up and taking the stage. His presence is natural and has everything Dean likes in a set, most songs he doesn't recognize and the ones he does, he actually likes. Vintage all the way. He doesn't pick up on the uplifting of the crowd or the tiny boosts in enthusiasm. Some of the stories are actually funny. It is a chaotic show, but the best rock'n'roll is.

As Jeff slides up to the bar, Dean's already set an empty shot glass down in front of him and then sets another one in front of himself. He fills them both with well whiskey. )

I owe you for the carriage bubbly. ( He lifts one glass up. ) Good show.

Thanks. [ He lifts his glass. ] To... breaking legs and making an honest buck? Cheers!

[ And down the hatch it goes, a nice, pleasant warmth settling in the pit of his stomach. Setting the glass down, he eyes Dean for a moment, curious, brow furrowed. Something's different, but he can't quite place it yet. ]

This place is fucking nice. I've never been here before... [ Well, that's not entirely true. Of course he checked the venue out before performing. But he's never, like, been here when it was properly open. ]

( That works. To whatever gets the shot down the gullet.

It could be the line no longer lining Dean's neck, or the sense of ease he feels knowing Castiel is in the city and in one piece. He's also in his element. Not working as it is, but, being around alcohol. And having something to accomplish. Yeah, it all suits him, doesn't it?

Crimson really hits his SciFi yen, though, as Dean admires the places he manages. )

It's got a space quality to it, right? Like we're hurtling toward the new frontier.

Yeah... [ He looks down at his empty glass and pushes it towards Dean. There's a smile lingering on his lips, though it's a little bittersweet. ] I keep thinking my brother would fucking love this bar. He's into all that... space stuff.

[ Eddie. The absolute nerd. Jeff misses him-- he misses both of his brothers. But the last thing he wants is to bring down his own mood, so he slaps a palm on the bar and grins brightly. ]

Another round? Oh! Dude! Is there, like, some kind of space drink or something? [ He frames an invisible marquee with his hands and puts on an old timey announcer voice: ] Cocktails from another planet!

( Sam would like this bar, and delve into everything cultural about this place while really researching what's going on. He'd also be horrified. Maybe a little intrigued in his uptight Sam brain.

Dean misses his brother, too, but believes for all intents and purposes, he's dead and Sam's alive. He doesn't know if being dead is a coincidence, as some here are dead (Natasha) and some aren't, he'd assume Jeff. He can't remember if Qi'ra is or not. But, it's also not something he could easily ask anyone. )

How old's your brother?

( Dean gets a little brother vibe off that, but he could also see Jeff being the little brother, too.

He pours Jeff one more shot and himself a half shot. )

We got a cocktail list, but it's classic, not interplanetary. It's good, though. We pour heavy here. That's the Etc in Drinks, Gambling, Dancing, Etc.

Nineteen-- I guess he'd be 19 now? [ Just... accounting for the months Jeff's spent here. ] And I've got another brother. He's, um. [ Hang on. Mental math. ] Twenty-four. Yeah.

[ So Jeff's both an older and a younger brother! And he huffs a little in disappointment at the bad news: no space cocktails. ]

Aw, man... So no margaritas topped with stardust? [ He throws back his shot and-- okay, maybe he should pace himself now. Or... ] How about a tequila and sprite? I'll pay, I mean, I'm not looking to bum drinks off you all night! [ Just in case the thought crossed Dean's mind. It's funny, but after having to scrape by on odd jobs and bartering for the past few months, Jeff's actually looking forward to spending money. ]

So what about you, man? You got any brothers or sisters?

You in between or older?

( Don't be eighteen. Not that anything's wrong with being eighteen, but being in a place like this, Dean wouldn't wish it on any eighteen year old.

Dean grabs a DOF and scoops ice into it. He tips over the well tequila bottle, pouring, while spraying the sprite from the soda gun. He affixes a limb and sticks a straw into the drink as he sets it down in front of Jeff.

Grabbing the empty shot glasses, he places them down below. )

One younger brother, Sam. And a half brother, but he's no longer in the picture.

( He was forgotten, then sent to Hell. Then back and forth and finally snapped away to oblivion. Maybe Jack snapped him back into existence. Dean doesn't know. )

In between. [ A beat. He smiles wryly. ] I'm 21. Hit that milestone and woke up here, like, a month later. Great place to spend the prime of my life, huh.

[ Jeff takes his drink and gives the straw a little swirl, pausing as Dean mentions, well, that unnamed half brother. He offers the man a sympathetic frown, even though it's a concept so far removed from his own experience that... fuck, he has no idea what to say. ]

Oh. That... Sorry. [ He pauses, then tries for something... maybe happier? ] What's, um. What's Sam like?

Yeah, it's a 21 year old's wet dream.

( Dean would not be good here at 21. He'd kill every witch and vampire he encountered, or he'd try. And he'd bed every woman he would want to. He'd have to trouble with quota, only trouble with morals he thought were right. )

We didn't know him long enough. ( It's fine. And more tragic than he thinks it could be, so don't worry about it, Jeff. Let's stick to Sam. ) Sam's smart, like, really smart. And taller than everybody in the room. He likes a good book and he treats his body like a temple. He's the best guy I know.

Mmmhm. [ Teasingly, he adds: ] Only in my wet dreams, I still have equal rights.

[ This witch right here is definitely glad he's not facing a 21-year-old witch hunter right now. Or, well, he would be if he knew that was once Dean's, er, vocation.

Jeff takes a sip of his drink, listening as the other man starts to talk about his brother. It's... nice, hearing the fondness in Dean's voice, as he paints a picture of Sam. He's full of brotherly pride for the guy.

And briefly, selfishly, Jeff wonders how his own big brother would describe him to somebody. Mike would be diplomatic and kind, sure, but he doubts it would be glowing. He'd use words like troubled, impulsive, misguided. 'Oh, he's talented but...' ]

He sounds fucking amazing. [ Jeff's sincere as he says it, and he flashes Dean another smile. ] Here's hoping he never shows up here, right?

[ Because this city suuuuucks. ]

( Dean's always been Sam's biggest cheerleader. He knows what his brother could've been doing had he not pulled him out of Stanford. Sam translates ancient texts and apprentices Rowena from beyond the grave. Sam is the smartest guy Dean knows, besides himself. Dean never gives himself enough credit when it comes to how smart he really is. He may not have gone to school, but he's smart. )

Don't know. He does and we're not away from each other anymore. Would I wish this on him? Hell no. ( He'd joke about how Sam'd clutch his pearls if he were here, but Sam always approached sex more carefully than Dean did. He cared about who he cared about. He'd live. ) I don't know. Selfish part says, no. The part that wants him to live a long and happy life and not worry about me? That part says yes.

[ He nods. It's not like Jeff hasn't had similarly mixed thoughts about his loved ones. Some nights he misses his mom so much he could cry. His friends, too. God, he'd been so codependent on Ally for so many years, he hadn't realized how incomplete he'd feel without her. His platonic soul mate...

He even misses the demon sometimes. At least with Ziggy around, he was never alone. ]

Yeah... I know my family's doing good without me, so. [ He shrugs and takes a bigger drink. ] I'm okay sticking around here without 'em. Not like I was doing anything back home.

[ He'd just lost his band and tanked his budding career, so, eh. Might as well be the end of the world! (To a 21 year old, anyway.) ]

Maybe I can be a real rock star here.

Edited 2022-01-07 17:59 (UTC)

I know no matter what, Sammy'll survive.

( Dean's not gone, not cursed, just dead. Run of the mill vampire dead. Jeff was doing nothing and Dean was trying to start over. He was even contemplating going back into the workforce. )

You gave a good show. I'd pay money for it. ( Hunter money, anyway. ) How many of us feel like this is our chance to start over. With -- boundaries.

Yeah? [ Oh, he grins like pure sunshine, because that's the best compliment Jeff could hope for. ] Thanks! Now I just need everyone else in the city to get on board, then I'm set.

[ He huffs softly, expression going a little more serious. A chance to start over... Until now, he hadn't really thought of this in those terms, but... It doesn't sound so bad, now. ]

I dunno. I guess there's more than a few of us. Some people seem to really like it here, like it's better than home... Even some of the other subs... [ Speaking of: ] Hey, I might be totally crazy, but didn't you have-- the last time I saw you... [ He runs a finger down his own marking. ]

I did. Don't ask anyone from the city, they'll wrap you in a straitjacket.

( That was a maddening fifteen minutes. )

I fall under one of those, maybe it's better than categories, but I won't rub it in your face. Still going to push back when I can. Can't lose those muscles.

Huh... So it just... it just happened? That's it? No explanation? [ Man. Can it happen to anyone at any time? Would he even want it if the opportunity came up?

He pushes the thought aside. It doesn't really matter right now, anyway. Jeff smiles, a little crookedly, and takes another drink. At least he can feel some nice buzz starting to blossom. ]

Yeah? You got a whole Rebel Without a Cause thing going? Or-- [ Wait. ] Rebel With a Cause.

They refused an explanation, probably because they don't want to justify why they do what they do. If they have any reason.

( He bets not. )

Most days.

DUPLICITY: INBOX

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