February 16th excerpt:
Sam almost leapt off the bed, his hand sealing around Dean’s wrist and his watch all together, holding his drunk brother in place.
“Hey, hey hey! ” Dean whined, trying to pull free and getting nowhere.
“Dean, what the hell,” Sam snapped, his eyes flicking worriedly down to Stan.
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.
December 16th excerpt:
Dean smirked, not above the chance to brag on his accomplishments. “I’m a tracker,” he said proudly, jutting his chin out. “So long as Sherlock gives me some idea what we’re searching for, I can lead him right to it. Just like I coulda told him, if he asked me, that one of his missing glasses is in the back of that cupboard pushed behind everything else, the other is mixed into his lab equipment, and the last is right above our heads.”
Pointing in time with each of his declarations, Dean indicated where all the missing cups were in the flat, and on the last, with his arm pointing overhead, he nearly stumbled over, losing his balance when the room went sideways.
Lestrade and Sherlock followed Dean’s finger in each direction he pointed. While Lestrade was confused by the final location, Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, knowing the glass hadn’t been left on the light overhead. That left the flat upstairs as the only remaining option, the place where John Watson slept. And evidently did more than sleep.
December 14th excerpt:
Lestrade couldn’t hold in a chuckle anymore, curling his fingers back to be out of reach of Dean’s little punch before relaxing them back down to the table. “Forgot about me, did ya?” he said knowingly, a little too entertained by Dean’s drunken movements and ready to catch him in case his balance gave out on him.
“Did not! ” Dean protested with his fists clenched by his sides. His shoulders bunched up, along with his leather jacket, as he stood there looking like a cat with its hair on end.
December 10th excerpt:
“This lifeline’s longer than me!” Dean’s voice rang out from under Lestrade’s palm, aimed at Sherlock.
Lestrade arched his brow, glancing at Sherlock as soon as they both realized who Dean was speaking to. Addressing Sherlock as though Lestrade wasn’t there. They exchanged a look before their gazes dropped to the obvious culprit for Dean’s unusual behavior that neither had considered until then. The little tin cup Dean had abandoned with the rest of his things.
December 8th excerpt:
Lestrade’s brow lifted slightly, following Sherlock’s gaze. He recognized the meandering steps, he’d seen it many times over in much larger individuals. “Doesn’t drink much, does he?” Lestrade inferred with a glance at Sherlock.
“No,” the detective answered tersely, keeping a sharp eye on his small friend.
December 6th excerpt:
The glass of whiskey was on Lestrade’s half of the table, guarded closely by one of the DI’s hands, but it hadn’t been picked up yet for a sip since being refilled. Dean gave himself at least five minutes before Lestrade remembered it, and started to edge towards that side of the table. Between Sherlock’s rambles and the drink buzzing inside him, Dean had an unnatural level of confidence in his ability to go unseen. The glass was only a little taller than he was, clearly he’d be able to reach the alcohol level inside to fill his cup again.
He’d earned this whiskey, dammit.
By the time he was halfway across the table, Dean had managed to tune both Sherlock and Lestrade completely out in lieu of his mission for a refill.
August 26th excerpt:
“Dean…” Jacob began, exasperation touching the edge of his tone again. He frowned when he craned his neck back and saw that he was rapidly losing what attention he had. “Waitasecond,” he called, trying to snap Dean out of it before he really conked out.
He tried to squirm out from under Dean’s hand, but the loose grip around him combined with the dead weight to keep him right where he was. He muttered a curse; if he got stuck there, he would have to wait until the whiskey wore off and Dean woke up. That could take a while.
Summary:
A drunk Dean can sometimes get too upset at his life. Luckily, little brother rushes to help!
Notes:
- For nightmares06.
Based off an ask for the Brothers apart blog, this just came to me. its not too shiny but it works.
For everyone that reads BA, check out this lovely little story that y’all inspired with the drunk!Dean ask earlier on.
Story by helloootricksterr
(shh I totally didn’t post this on the wrong blog at first)
Vulnerability – Helloootricksterr – Supernatural [Archive of Our Own]
After everything is over for the night, Sam would end up substituting in for a teddy bear cuddled against his chest. Sam can’t have Dean saying things like that; without a brother like Dean, he might not even be around anymore. They watch out for each other.
Brothers Apart 