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    Summary

    Throughout the years, Dean had dabbled in his fair share of overindulgences—women, food, alcohol. Violence, even. When he needed something to do with his hands, he’d always known he could simply find any and all of these things at whatever local bar was nearby his and Sam's motel room.

    And besides, the weight of a beer bottle against his palm doesn't really feel all that different from that of a gun’s grip, especially when the first time both of them had been placed into his hands had been by his father.

    And he figures that the food thing came from his mother, maybe. Some of his earliest memories had been sitting at the counter in the kitchen while she cooked, thinking to himself that he'd eat whatever she put in front of him as long as they could be there, together, forever.

    Or maybe he was always going to end up like this, and it wasn't his parents’ fault at all that he was fucked up.

    No point in wondering. He'd never know.

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    OR: an exploration of Dean's relationship with food.

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    title from "strangers" by Ethel Cain.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    28,932
    Chapters:
    4/?
    Comments:
    9
    Kudos:
    23
    Bookmarks:
    8
    Hits:
    454