Sam
It had been a stressful week— or five months, as Sam tried to figure out a way to bring Dean back from Hell. When he did, Sam couldn’t help get closer and closer to Dean. He didn’t want his brother to leave him again, especially for the sake of his own life. Dean was much stronger, and Sam finally felt complete with him back. He missed going to the bars and hanging out in the Impala with his brother. Other than sitting on the hood of the Impala at night to gaze at the stars, his second favorite thing was when Dean drove her, and Sam just sat beside him either quietly or looking at a map with a flashlight at night. The night life seemed to suit them both better. It wasn’t as chaotic, and Sam and Dean could finally catch a break.
Which was what Sam was doing tonight. They had gone to the bar, trying to find out some “information”, and before Sam knew it, he was doing more shots than one. When arriving back at the motel, Sam had a hard time even standing up right. With his tall figure, everything seemed to be getting in the way.
“Al’ight, where’s my beer?” Sam slurred, walking into the main room where the beds were. His hand stayed planted on the wall, keeping his body fairly balanced.
Dean
Being back, hunting with Sam again, that was pure bliss. Sure, they had the Apocalypse hanging over their heads, heavy and draining, but neither of them knew what to do about that exactly. At least, not right now. So, what was so terrible about having a couple drinks, a little fun with his brother until they figured that out? Nothing, that’s for sure. Well, aside from Sam’s low tolerance for alcohol, that is. Of course, Dean was drunk too, somewhat tripping over his own two feet as they stumbled into the motel room, but c’mon. Sam was cackling like the world was one big funhouse.
Dean imagined that’s probably what it looked like to his inebriated brother.
He’d say Sam was cramping his style or something similar, but truth be told, he really wasn’t. Nothing like spending a couple decades in Hell to put your life into perspective. The things that used to bother Dean didn’t, not as much, anyway. However, having to practically carry your little brother back to the motel wasn’t exactly enjoyable.
With Sam’s question, Dean’s mouth quirked into a smirk, dark and dangerous as he watched Sam stumble deeper into the motel room. He traced the curve of Sam’s propped arm with his eyes before giving Sam an answering shove. “I got your beer right here, bitch,” Dean said seductively, working at the button and zipper on his jeans. Okay, he knew it as a little weird to use the nickname when sex was involved, but it was bound to happen eventually.
subtle wasn’t what i was going for.
look, i’m drunk… gonna bang my brother into the mattress.
you want subtle? go watch softcore.
i’ll take care of him, don’t worry.
morre beerea?
why don’t you come find out?
wel the ebar awas nicee
Classy, Sam.
wha/aAT yu can drjnink and i cnat?
i never said you couldn’t! you’re such a fucking lightweight man. look at you! you’re a giant with the tolerance of a chick. it’s embarrassing.
wel the ebar awas nicee
Classy, Sam.
