you’re all smiley when you walk into the motel room. from inside on the bed, sam heard you messing with the lock and key outside for almost a whole minute before you actually got inside. you’re a little wobbly, too, and fail to close the door all the way behind you. sam knows instantly that you’re drunk from your outing with dean. dean himself must’ve gone home with someone else for the night.

“hi,” you breathe out with a sweet smile, shedding your jacket and bumping into the couch during the process. he’s by your side in an instant, keeping you steady, and pulling your jacket off the rest of the way for you. he drapes the garment over the back of the couch.

“hey,” he says back, admittedly amused by your drunkenness. “let’s sit you down.” he guides you to the nearest bed, and you lean right into him, giving him a breathless little laugh. your clumsy arms swing around his shoulders, fingers reaching around to play with the pretty strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“your hair is soft,” you mumble into his shoulder. his face flushes and he fights to find something to say to that, but you don’t notice a thing. you’re not the flirty type, not sober at least, and sam doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this affected by alcohol. but tonight is different, and it’s clear that you're a clingy and affectionate drunk. he’s not quite sure what to do with it. he’s flustered and a little bit in love with you, but he’s unsure of your feelings towards him. one of your hands trails down, past his t-shirt sleeve to rest on the bare skin just above his elbow.

“thanks,” he murmurs, a little awkwardly. he likes having you so close, having your fingertips press lightly into his skin. then he gets you to sit on the bed so he can grab you water and ease his own flustered state. instead, you cling tighter, adamant not to let him go. your arms wrap around his waist as he stands tall over you, and you nuzzle your face into his stomach, looking sleepy and sweet. he thinks he could die of affection and plain old nervousness.