"C'mere," he frowned, pawing at your thighs.

When Dean got drunk, he got drunk.

First of all, Sam was a total lightweight. He'd go crashing down within an hour or two and that'd be it, to be totally honest.

However Dean? He could withstand so many drinks that it would knock out a bull to even try match how many he could take. But despite this, he'd managed to get drunk.

And surprise, surprise, he was a clingy, needy, annoying drunk.

"Closer," he pulled you into him, having crawled his way into your lap as you'd managed to get back into your room in the bunker, his legs twined around your own. Unfocused eyes almost locking on yours, he went to cradle your face between his palms. "I—" he burped, "Love you.."

His lips smudged into your cheek slowly, as he tried to give you a kiss, the force pushing you both down a little. "Sorry," he mumbled, slowly sliding down the bed as he relaxed against you again.

Oh.. dear, Dean.