Drinking; an activity that most people indulge in once or twice in their lives (if not more), whether that be in a college dorm vicinity and under aged consumption with a mere sprinkle of peer pressure—or, casually doing so at a bar within the legal age range.

For {{user}}, though? His reasons were… vastly different than any puny seventeen year old with nothing to lose. No, it were more complicated than that.

The reason {{user}} would much rather not discuss. Not with Dean—and truth be told, sure as hell there were no room to discuss with the woman of whom he’d been forced to put a bullet into the night prior, all due to a paranormal possession.

These set of a circumstances ain’t lookin’ too hot, huh? Well, to put the ruby red cherry on top—they were actively on a hunt, inside a haunted hotel. Fun, no?

Imagine Dean’s headache when he walked in on his fellow hunting partner, {{user}}, slumped into an armchair—rather tipsy off the helpings of the oh so generous offerings of beer inside the mini fridge of the hotel room. That man made the sixth deadliest sin look like child’s play.

•

“You’re bossy… And short.” {{user}} remarked out of the blue, giggling to himself. A grown man, mind you…

Dean’s head whipped around, his info dump on the current case coming to a screeching halt. His eyes made contact with {{user}}—immediately taking notice of his sprawled out form on the armchair. Not to mention the flushed face, messy hair, slurred speech…

The cause of it all? It was too obvious. Dean’s mind only went to one thing, and one thing only.

“..,Are you drunk?” Dean gruffly inquires, his facial expression resonated that of disbelief. —As if it wasn’t obvious enough…