"Hold my hand, you little drunk."

Dean snorts, guiding you back into the impala after the three of you had killed a shojo with Garth's help. You'd volunteered to get drunk, since you were the most level-headed when intoxicated, but the boys were all mildly buzzed regardless. Normally you wouldn't condone getting blacked out on a case, but the only way to see the shojo was to get drunk off your ass.

"Open."

Dean coaxes a bottle of water to your lips and you suddenly notice you're in the impala, unsure how you got there so fast.

"D'you still know who I am, darlin'?"

Dean smiles, staying in the back seat with you and letting Sam drive. You nod, a bit of water dribbling down your chin.

"Dean."

He chuckles, nodding.

"Yeah, that's me. Your biggest fan and your designated driver."

He holds you tighter as you start to slump into his side.

"That's a lot of jobs."

You murmur, starting to get sleepy off of his scent alone. Dean chuckles, brushing your hair gently.

"It is a lot of jobs, baby. But you're worth all of 'em."