July 10th excerpt:

“That guy’s throwing back a few shots to drown his sorrows. I think you hurt his feelings.”

“He’s in the right place then,” Sam commented wryly, looking up at Jacob. 

“With less money to spend on them,” Dean said with a glint in his eye, maliciously grinning as he glanced in the bar’s direction.

Sam rubbed his neck with a shrug. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

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.

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.

February 14th excerpt:

Sam sighed. “You’re drunk, aren’t you.”

Ignoring Sam, Dean locked right on the television, his glazed eyes taking it in. Sam certainly didn’t watch shows like that when he had the time, so…

Spotting Stan, Dean pounced on the bed. “Whatcha watching?”

The Lounge || Advent of the Deans (3 of 5)

The little Dean bristled when he saw Dean looking at his Sam. “Don’t even think about grabbing Sam like that!” he commanded bossily, making his taller counterpart smirk in amusement.

“Oh?” Dean drawled lazily, claiming the seat directly behind the tiny bar set up for them. “And I’m guessin’ you’ll be the one stopping me, shortstop?” He winked at the new Sam in the room, letting him know it was all just a joke, and Sam nodded back, relaxing a little as he walked closer to the pair of Deans.

“Yes, I will,” Dean snipped back, pointedly taking his stool at the miniature bar just in time for a tiny glass of whiskey, complete with ice and a nearly-microscopic napkin, appear in front of him, courtesy of the bartender. It was quickly followed by an equally small slice of apple pie and fork made for it, and a mug of beer, looking the size of a quart next to Sam. “I trained up Jacob, didn’t I?”

Jacob snickered quietly at that. He didn’t even have an argument for it. ‘Trained’ had become a word that suited him pretty well, when it came to the tiny brothers that had perched on his shoulders mere moments ago. He’d learned to listen especially carefully to their quiet voices, always ready to accommodate them if they needed it.

He received a beer of his own, along with a silent smirk from the bartender, and almost went off his train of thought for a moment. He couldn’t place who the guy was like he had with Dean.

“If this Dean is anything like you are, I don’t know how much luck you’ll have training him,” he commented with a shrug. Jacob didn’t have to grow up with the little guy to know how headstrong he could be.

“Besides. He probably already knows how to fix a car, I just had to take the class to fix up the Impala.”

Dean arched his back pridefully. “I’ve rebuilt that car from the ground up before,” he bragged shamelessly, wiggling his fingers at his smaller self. “With my bare hands.

Little Dean scoffed, and tossed back his whiskey, eyebrows going up when he tasted it. Unlike the whiskey at Bobby’s, which was likely home-brewed or from a box, this was top shelf stuff. It went down smooth as ice, and didn’t burn his throat.

“Another!” he declared, slamming the glass down on the bar and looking hopefully at the bartender.

“Don’t go reliving the other night,” Sam hissed.


Asks and prompts always open for the Lounge!

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

June 8th excerpt:

To no one’s surprise, Dean walked onto Jacob’s hand first, his cocky, bow-legged saunter apparent to all as he crossed over Jacob’s wrist. There was something that was always so strange to see in a guy smaller than a finger being so confident around a giant like Jacob.

Before he joined Dean, Sam was sure to gather up his bag again, holding his cup cautiously so the beer didn’t splash over the rim. He’d never hear the end of that one from Dean. A travesty. That was what Dean would call it if any of the precious amber liquid was lost.

February 22nd excerpt:

“At least getting the drinks won’t be hard with Dean’s fake ID’s around,” Sam said aloud as he mused on their last few times drinking. “I bet that was his main reason for making them for you. Using them for cases was just his excuse.” He smirked at that, knowing Dean really had made them for hunting. Aging Jacob up a few years… that was just so it was easier to get their hands on beer.