“Arthur, you know I love your hair, but the clients will never take you seriously like that.”
“What about yours?”
“I’m the builder, I’m supposed to look like a mad scientist in training.”
Arthur’s official orders are to ensure Sam’s security. His assignment is to protect a vital government asset: the kid whose dreams feel real. What’s more— if Sam ever tries to run, to sell his talents elsewhere— Arthur’s supposed to be the one who brings him to ground. Arthur’s not supposed to take advantage of the teen-aged civilian in his charge.
He watches Sam pour himself a bowl of cereal the morning after their first fuck and Arthur regrets nothing.
The Reaper at Cold Oak knew that Winchesters were often difficult jobs, so it took a form it knew Sam would trust to lead him into the afterlife.
Arthur looks up and sees the health center referral, who’s elected to slouch against the wall outside his office door rather than knock. It’s then that Arthur realizes that after three mostly painless years, DADT has shown up to kick him in the teeth.
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After the whole Croatoan virus-thing, after Dean’s confession, Sam can’t even remember getting back to the motel. He unpacks his duffel, grabs the moleskine, and walks into the decrepit kitchen, and keeps his ears open for Dean. Sam has to check every possible change, but no matter how hard he studies Arthur’s old notebook, it still tells him this is reality.