A celebration with beer. Hunters getting hammered ((closed RP, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby))

[junkyard-hunter.livejournal.com]

After the raw emotions of that afternoon Bobby was grateful for Death for her suggesion that he and the  boys spend some time together. He had missed spending time with them, and now that Dean was liberated from that bizzare-as-hell reality show, they certainly had cause to celebrate.

He arrived over in Ravenclaw’s bar first and found a comfortable corner table. It was one the hunters had taken over regularly during their outings to the bar. A tray full of cold beer was waiting for Sam, Dean and Castiel to arrive.

“Hey Bobby,” Sam said with a grin, the first to show. He clapped the hunter on the shoulder, happy to see him out again. He also had a few causes to celebrate; Death’s promise to intervene and keep him and Adam out of the cage, and a lovely blonde girl by the name of Sookie Stackhouse. “Where’s everyone else?”

“You know you brother, he’s always runnin a little late,” he said with a grin, passing a beer over to the younger man. “You seem pretty chipper lately.”

His grin widened. “I’ve had good reason to be.”

“Cryptic ass.”

Comments

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Well that sure explained why Jimmy hated them so much.

Sam felt vaguely sick and he was sure that it didn’t have as much to do with his overdoing it as it did with what Castiel just confessed to them both. He saw what Dean intended to do, and if his reflexes hadn’t been dulled by a night of heavy boozing, he might have been able to prevent what happened next. Dean’s shove sent him wildly off balance and he crashed to the floor. The upended table sent bottles raining everywhere, the empty ones shattering all around him.

He struggled to his feet, glass in his hair and a few small shards stuck in his palms, but he ignored the sting. This shouldn’t be happening. They were family for God’s sake. “Dean!”

[nerdofthelord.livejournal.com]

Anger he had expected, maybe even some sort of physical attack, but not a full-fledged body tackle. Ordinarily Cas would see such a move coming a mile away and either dodge or set himself up to roll with it so that Dean wouldn't be hurt. Surprise and impaired reflexes prevented it this time, and they collided hard enough that it actually hurt him slightly as well.

"I'm sorry," he said automatically, staggering upright to brace himself against a nearby wall. "I--" He bent slightly, grimacing and involuntarily bringing a hand to his head. Too much dubious liquor and an inherently sickening conversation, thoroughly shaken up by the tumble and the head-crack, caught up with him suddenly and violently, and his stomach made known its displeasure in no uncertain terms.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he repeated miserably, and winked out to the nearest lavatory before all that firewhiskey came right back up onto the glass-strewn floor.

[i-shot-a-dick.livejournal.com]

Dean rolled over with a groan, on his hands and knees the hunter looked as if he was about to hurl. The world was spinning, Cas had a hard head and all the liquor, mixed with his regular diet of greasy foods was enough to make his stomach roll more than once.

"Sorry...you..." The hunter turned his head, shock on his face "Damn it Cas! Don't you run off." He staggered to his feet and took one step forward to go look for the angel. Partly in anger, the other part in concern, neither of them melding very well in his drunken state.

As his foot hit the ground, Dean's body followed suit and the hunter ended up face flat on the ground, he was barely holding dinner down "I'm gonna... oh crap."

Dean didn't have zapping powers and the hunter just barely snagged a nearby potted plant and got rid of every thing in his stomach in a few seconds.

"Son of a bitch...." he turned, slumped, defeated as an arm draped over his upraised knees and his head hung.

"Cas...just never thought it would be Cas."

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Sam managed to stumble over to his brother and attempt to heave him to his feet. He hadn't taken any severe falls and felt like he was at least marginally capable of hanging on to his dinner. For the moment, anyway. He half dragged, half carried Dean to the nearest couch and deposited him there. "'m gonna owl Death. She'll find Cas. You can talk to him in the morning."

It took a phenomenal amount of concentration to find some paper and a functioning quill, but Sam managed to scratch out a brief note. The prospect of going all the way to the owlry was a little too daunting in his state, so he simply called a house elf and asked them to deliver the note to her.

His message on the way, Sam staggered back to the other empty couch and promptly passed out on it.