#pielicker81

Jo unearthed herself from her blankets and glared at her blaring cell phone. She only picked up because she saw Dean's name on the screen, and he would probably keep calling.

(Going for option 2 - My character shoots yours.)“Oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry!” The gun fell from Anna’s hand onto the floor. Reaching out to him, he pushed her hand away.

“Don’t. Just don’t touch me.” he growled.

“Dean, it was-“

“You SHOT me, dammit!”

“I know. I’m so sorry…” her voice came out in a strangled choking sound as she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“In the ass! You freakin’ shot me in the ass, Anna!”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer, collapsing onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “It was an accident!” she gasped around her laughter.

“It’s not funny!” he grumbled angrily, holding a handkerchief down his pants and glaring at her. His mingled look of dismay and a begrudging grin slowly spreading across his face made her smile as she sat up.

“Well, that’s what you get for handing me an ancient gun that’s loaded and unstable.” She chided. Hooking a finger in his belt loop she dragged him closer. “Now stop being a big baby and let me see it.”

“I’m not being a baby because I want the woman who shot me to keep her mitts off the injury.” He pouted adorably and she laughed again as she tugged the cloth away from the wound. Gently she pressed the edges of the hole aside, and caught sight of the bullet. “It’s not in too deep. I think I can get it out, then I can heal it for you.”

“I think you’re enjoying this.” he said a bit petulantly.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

She directed him to lay face down on the bed, and the bullet was removed in no time. She laid aside the tweezers and wiped her hands. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said with a smile.

“Well it still hurts, so get on with it.” he grumbled.

Sitting beside him on the bed, she slid her hand over the wound and let her grace knit the injury back together. Now all that remained was to salve his injured pride. He rolled over and propped himself on an elbow, rubbing the now painless spot on his skin.

“It didn’t even scar.” she cooed, making sure to put the offending weapon in the drawer of the bedside table.

“Thanks,” he said with a small smile.

“You know I didn’t do it on purpose, don’t you?”

“You mean this wasn’t a clever ploy to get your hands on my ass?” he smirked.

“Not at all, but I consider it an unexpected benefit.” Her fingers traced across his chest as she smiled down into his gorgeous green eyes. “So, are you going to let me make it up to you now?”

“That depends on what you have in mind.” he said, raising an eyebrow.

After his very delightful conversation with Lucifer, Jim returned to his rather unpleasant stroll. The new view of the city was interesting. Normally, this view could only been seen in works of art or the increasingly popular post-Apocalyptic movies. 

The broken buildings, the shatter scenes of calm, everyday settings. 

It was beautiful.

It was also teaming with very angry infected people that wanted nothing more than to either have him join their ranks or bash his brain in with a brick for resisting. Though he could understand their position, he rather liked his brains in his head where they were much more useful. 

That was why he moved about the town with his primary handgun drawn and at the ready. He was good at hiding and sneaking around the town. He knew to avoid fatal funnels and to pie his corners. 

Still, even he could understand the value of an extra pair of eyes in this situation. Or at least the value of cannon fodder. When he saw the dark haired man walking around the scene, he decided that he would make friends. Or shoot him. Either way.

He waited for the man to walk between two buildings before he went on a perpendicular path. The man had military-esk training. If he knew nothing else, he would know to control himself so he wouldn't shoot anyone who didn't need shot.

Moriarty was only living here for a week so that he could conduct some business in a more private manner. Things had been going well, but he had been rather tempted to blow up his neighbor's house before he said is final farewells.

He wasn't sure what annoyed him more. It was hard to choose between the shouting and screaming at three in the morning, the sounds of splintering wood (honestly, did they have any furniture left?) and the random smell of salt, sulphur or spray paint. 

He wasn't sure that he cared what annoyance was at the top of the list. He wasn't about to nail a list of his grievances to the door build houses on the other side of the street to slight them. 

No. No no no.

Jim didn't care if they were fighting demons. They could do it a bit quieter. Did they really need to fire their guns? How had the police not been phoned nightly? The Bystander Effect, of course. Wonderful. Well, Jim was not a bystander and he had enough knowledge to build bombs. 

His urge to blow up his neighbors house increased when he heard one knock at the door. 

He rubbed his eyes and ruffled his hair and put on his best impression of someone who had just woken up and shambled out of bed because some freak was knocking on his door. 

"Huh? I don't wanna buy anything..." he mumbled as he opened the door to see the older brother standing in front of him. He had his hand rather unconvincingly behind his back. 

"Hiya, neighbor! I was just wondering if..." Dean looked behind Jim and into the completely innocent looking home. "If you've seen a... rrrr.... rabbit running around that might have... glowing eyes?"

Jim stared at him through half open eyes. "Hmm? No, no I was asleep-"

"Well! Thanks for your time. Sleep well and see ya later. Cherrio!" he said in a terrible accent that as probably supposed to resemble British.