Supernatural Stories and Imagines

Sam 5/ Drunk Winny

Idea: Instagram

Plot: Taking care of a drunk Sam Winchester

Y/v/t = your vehicle type

It was always a bad idea to let the brothers drink by themselves. But having one drink at the less of the other only intensifies. Dean had run off on a hunt, clearly not wanting to be found for a few days. He had left soon after he and Sam had an argument. So it seemed that Sam thought the best response was to act like Dean, which lead him to the nearest bar.

You hadn't found any of this out until you returned to the motel to find both of the guys gone. Sam didn't answer his phone so you tried getting ahold of Dean left, who only responded with a short text. On a hunt. Don't want to talk. Well! That left you a bit anxious, pacing around the room and calling Sam a dozen times. He finally answered.

"Whaaaaaaattt? I'm trying... to have a good time, Y/N. And you keep calling." His deep voice was thick and seemed to draw out each word.

You took a deep breath. "Sam, tell me where you are and I will come pick you up."

It seemed like he giggled behind the phone. He listed off a bunch of numbers that seemed to resemble a theme song for children. You rotated your jaw and ran a hand through your hair. "I'm serious. Yeah, Dean left us. He's on a hunt. He'll be back and I know that because he always is. Where are you?"

He scoffed. "It doesn't matter if Dean will be back. He does this all the time and it's dumb. I just want to drink. How about you join me?"

You paused. At least this was one way to get him and smack some sense into him. "Fine."

-

Entering a bar was not one of your favorite things to do on a weekend. It was smelly and older men and women constantly hit on you. Though you had interfered on a Winchester hunt, they ended up liking your style. You liked the idea of working with the infamous brothers.

You and Dean had flirted a bit before both realizing you weren't interested in one another. There was some weird angels issue that kept popping up and the two of you ended anything you might have had. Dean spent less time around and you started studying more with Sam. The two of you took things past flirting, but nothing was ever official, and you were okay with that.

However, your experiences at bars led you to know that people weren't the same when intoxicated. They made decisions that hurt people and everyone has to face the repercussions later, no matter how small the injury and its inflictions.

So you ignored the longing looks and the disgusting heavy breaths. You scanned the crowd for a tall, dark, long-haired man. Finally, a man at a wooden stool at the bar stumbled off of it. He moved towards you, a giant walking like a toddler. He laughed when you reached out to him, catching your hand and pulling you towards him. It was definitely Sam, last tipsy. He looped his other hand behind your waist and pulled you close. Sam immediately dipped you downwards and planted a messy, wet kiss, on the side of your mouth.

Sure, you loved Sam, you loved being with him and kissing him. But drunkenness was a taste you despised. It reminded you too similarly of your past, something you had discussed a few months after living with the brothers.

You gently shoved the heap of man away, guiding him out of the bar. He putted and tried pulling you back into his arms. "Y/N! You just got here! Won't you drink with me?"

Continuing to tug him along, you finally got Sam into the backseat of your car. The two of you were entangled for a ew minutes while he wrestled, refusing to be buckled. His hands roamed and you pushed them back, nearly on top of him. "Hands to yourself, Sammy. You don't get anything unless you're sober."

Sam huffed and turned his head away, allowing to be buckled. You drove him home. Once you arrived, you had to shake him awake. Sam jolted awake, bumping his head on the roof of the car and scrunched his face together in pain. He groaned as he reached forwards, searching for your hands. You didn't bother holding back a smile as you helped the insufferable childlike hunter out of your y/v/t.

"This is no fun," Sam grouched. He had a strong hand wrapped around your waist as you helped him inside. You remembered at the last second to lock the car and hit the button before the two of you went inside.

You were barely able to close the door behind you and the drunk Winchester before he started dragging the two of you to the couch. Sam threw his large body onto the couch, taking up most of the space, and pulled you down on top of him. He started kissing the side of your face and drew the line downwards. Laughing, you pulled away.

"Sam, babe, you're drunk." You removed yourself from his lap and made certain that the door was also locked. Grabbing a bottle of water, you noticed Sam had left the room.

You sighed as you walked down the hall. You didn't bother searching either Sam's or Dean's room. It was straight to your room. You found the switch for the lights and dimmed it to the lowest notch before flicking it on. Sam was sprawled out on your bed, under the covers, yawning.

"I brought you some water," you said softly. You moved and sat next to him. He used the wall beside him to guide his way into sitting up and slowly took the bottle.

He sighed, eyes red rimmed. "I want more."

"I can get you some more water when you finish what you already have." You prompted, taking his free hand into yours.

He shook his head. "Beer."

"You're already drunk, I'm not allowing it to get worse." His hand was loose in yours, dark eyes gazing mindlessly around the low lit room. 

"Well, you know what is worse?" He muttered, pulling his hand away. "You're short."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll get you some Tylenol, too."

"Wow. I can't drink but I can do drugs. Make up your mind, woman." Sam handed the water back to you, most still inside the bottle. You set it on the nightstand and stood up. You set a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he met your stern look. "Don't call me 'woman'."

You walked out of the room, leaving him to sober up for a few minutes while you grabbed the prescription pills. Buzz! You had completely forgot about your phone, as you usually didn't get messages from many people. Surprisingly, it was Dean. I'll be back tomorrow, thx for keeping thanks under control. Well, you were trying, at least. You appreciated Dean's message, as you didn't receive those very often. It was true that you tended to be the fixer of things, especially with issues between the brothers.

When you returned to the room, Sam was no longer under the covers and had somehow changed into pajama pants and removed his t-shirt. He lay with his arms crossed behind his head. He leaned forwards as soon as he saw you, reaching out to you, but quickly moved one hand to his head as he had urged forwards too fast.

"Y/N - come here, please." His puppy dog eyes were out. Oh, how that was your weakness. It was something that got to you just about every time.

You picked back up the water bottle and put it into the open hand. You took his other and set down two of the pills. His eyebrows furrowed at your silence thus far before sighing then obliging. "Okay!" Sam attempted to stand on the bed which resulted in once again, bonking his head on the ceiling. He plopped back down, crossing his arms. "I'm sorry, Y/N. My love. My heart. Please come here."

He offered a half empty water bottle back to you, that you yet again set on the nightstand for him. Sam tilted his head, staring at you. He seemed to be better, at least. Maybe this would calm him down.

It was those darn puppy dog eyes.