I Have Two Faces; Blurry is the One I'm Not

|eight|

I yank my shirt down over my head and fix my sleeves as I walk into the living room. Sam is sitting upright on the loveseat, shaking his head with his hand on his forehead. Dean is sprawled on my couch, looking casually at an issue of Cosmo  that I had left on the coffee table when I grabbed the mail yesterday. He tosses it back onto the coffee table when he sees me enter the living room. I lean up against the door frame, crossing my arms.

"Chicks actually read this garbage?" He asks, settling into my couch, his heavy work boots propped up on the arm rest.

"Seeing as I pay for it to be delivered to my house, I'd say yes." I make my way over to the couch and push his feet off, forcing him to sit up. "And boots off the couch. Were you raised in a barn?"

Dean smirks and leans towards me, all smiles. "Actually we lived on the road."

Sam shoots Dean a dark glare and sighs, dragging a hand down his face and cupping his mouth. "What did you want us to see?"

"You know, besides you." Teases Dean, playfully tapping my arm. "You look great by the w- ow!" I swat at him, my knuckles cracking against his bicep.

"My neighbours were murdered today."

Sam shrugs his  shoulders and leans forward, clasping his gigantic hands together. "Well, like you said, this is  Seattle-" His voice oozes sarcasm, his eyes blazing as he stares me full in the face.

I cut him off mid snide remark. "The landlord found 'em. Cops ruled it a murder-suicide, but Tom says they looked like they were shredded to hell and back." I smack my lips before crossing my arms and leaning against the arm of the couch. Dean slowly looks back to Sam, who is now paying close attention.

"By neighbours, you mean-" Sam begins, concerned.

"Right across the hall." I nod slightly as I notice Dean's hand tighten on his thigh. "They were moving out after next month."

Dean's eyes widen momentarily as he shifts a little in his spot, popping his shoulder blades, his back muscles moving as smoothly as a panther through the jungle. "Looks like someone sped that along." He shakes his head once to the side, exhaling sharply through his nose.

Sam lets out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes seemingly every time Dean speaks. It's starting to look like Sam is actually going to take me seriously. Praise Jeebus. "Did you, uh, did you know them very well?" He inquires, rubbing his hands back and forth.

I shake my head, taking a breath. "Not really. They were mean, though. They were always fighting and waking up the whole floor. Any time anyone tried to tell them to quiet down or ask if one of them needed any help, they'd just cuss them out, too." I raise an eyebrow. "From what little I'd encountered of them, David was a dick, Laura was a bitch. They deserved each other."

Sam nods a little, glancing down at the floor. "And you weren't home?" He brings his gaze back up to me, suspicion apparent in his eyes.

I shake my head. "No. Tom said he heard them about two hours after I'd left. He ran up here and found them like that." Dean leans over and rests his head on my shoulder and Sam raises an eyebrow. Dean offers him a cheeky smile. "He was pretty torn up about it." I explain, gesturing with my head towards the door.

Dean looks back up at me, his brows furrowed. "Who's Tom?" He pouts. I want to laugh for a moment at his childlike expression.

"My landlord. He owns the building. Sweetest old guy I've ever met."

"He's old?" Dean asks as he uncrosses his arms and rests a hand on my exposed knee, rubbing tiny circles on the side of my kneecap with his thumb.

"Yes, Dean. He's very old." I reassure him, rolling my eyes. What is his deal?