Dean sized Jacob up as he drank from his foil cup. No one had ever warned him that whiskey wasn’t made to be drank in draughts, and his own inhibitions were already down by his boots.
Jacob was a big guy, with muscle covering his arms and upper body. His legs were most likely the same, but they were hidden underneath waves of sturdy blue fabric every day. Despite the growing warmth outside, Dean couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t a fan of shorts under any conditions and never had been. Unless they were short shorts on certain girls he’d seen in school…
He had to shake his head to focus, and found himself almost pitching to the side. Sam snapped a hand out, steadying his balance. “Maybe you should sit,” Sam suggested, pulling Dean towards the alarm clock.
“No… ‘m fine, Sammy, leggo.” Dean tried to twist his arm out of Sam’s grip. With his own balance off and Sam doing fine, he didn’t succeed, pulled like a kitten and placed against the alarm clock to lean.
Dean huffed in annoyance. “Whatever.” He turned and pointedly ignored Sam, sadly shaking his cup and watching the dredges swirl around.
From chapter 25 of The Road Not Taken – Bobby’s Good Whiskey
Wonderful comic by @homeiswheretheheartsare