Tag: alcohol

I’m feeling a little concerned for Stan in the current excerpts. Not that I think the bros are gonna hurt him! But Dean is drunk, and I don’t know what Stan’s past experiences with drunk humans sums up to. Maybe he’s had none, in which case, great, but if the witch used to get drunk sometimes, I imagine that Stan has every reason to feel uneasy around a drunk human. At least Sam’s also there to make sure Dean doesn’t go overboard.

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Good job picking up on that! And Stan, indeed, is not completely okay with having a drunk giant around. He’s at least Irish in his background, so drinking itself would come more naturally to him, but it’s not something he’s done as a borrower (very unlike his human counterpart in BC)…

Once the aftershocks subsided, Stan looked up to find Dean almost completely filling his vision, looking at him expectantly as the borrower realized he’d been asked a question.

“Oh, u-uh… I dunno, it was… on,” said Stan between heavy breaths. He wasn’t exactly afraid, more flummoxed than anything. He recognized the smell on Dean’s breath as the gusts wafted toward Stan’s seat. Once in a while the witch would come home in a particularly foul mood with similar smells radiating off him, and those nights were absolutely no fun for Stan; any little thing could set Nicholas off, and there was only one tiny person he could take it all out on.

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March 13th excerpt:

Dean pulled out of the forest. His stomach grumbled at him, reminding him that none of them had eaten lunch aside from Jacob, who was currently regretting the fact that he had. “I’m gonna run in to the Gas ‘n Sip down the road from the motel,” he announced to the car at large, knowing everyone could hear him fine. “We should pick up some snacks and grab some beers for the night. It might help take the edge off.”

The last time he’d been around, they’d had reheatable meals. He could grab a burger and some fries, probably some apple sticks for the sprite. Something to help cheer Jacob up, maybe…

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November 17th excerpt:

The bar was quiet in the early hours of the evening. A few scattered tables held patrons, from the worn and weary older men that hunched over their drinks like they were birds protecting their young to a baby-faced kid getting carded at the bar, it was a familiar scene for Dean as he swaggered confidently over the threshold. His cocky attitude fit his leather jacket, and his hard green eyes made it easy to blend right in.

Once, a lifetime ago, this would have felt like home. Before that fateful day.

Before Sam.

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September 26th excerpt:

Sam rolled his eyes. “I guess we can count it as a tie,” he said dryly. “I’ll let your awful aim slide just this once. But you might end up with Dean trying to teach you how to aim the next time he gets the chance. Since, y’know, you can’t hit the broadside of a barn and all that.”

The hunter out in the open shifted his position on the bench while Sam was talking. The boot closest to them scrapped along the floor, and this time when Dean’s hand came into view, he was clearly stretching to reach the wayward coin.

“Did one of you get into the whiskey before we got here?” came a curious tone. A finger caught the coin just at the edge, dragging it along the floor so he’d be able to reach it without having to get up.