SUPERNATURAL ONESHOTS

Happy Drunk

Sam gets drunk while alone at the bunker, where the rest of Team Free Will 2.0 find him doing stuff that is rather embarrassing.

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Sam couldn't take it anymore. His brain would not. Shut. Up.

He was practically alone in the bunker, Dean and Cas on some milk-run hunt and Jack asleep in his room. Sam had tried to rest as well, but his mind was racing at 80 miles a minute at the moment. It was almost two in the morning.

His mind screamed at him all things, past-present-future. It didn't matter. Memories he completely forgot he had came bubbling to the surface with a bitter taste of regret or guilt. Thoughts he shouldn't even be thinking anymore, such as wondering what it would be like if his mom never died (the first time). Sam scolded himself. He knew dwelling on these types of things put him into a funk. He need something--anything--to turn his mind blank.

Sam eyed the bottle of hard liquor sitting at the end of the table. Dean must have forgotten to put it away last night. Sam bit his lip. He didn't usually get wasted. He liked to drink, but to an extent. Blacking out and hangovers were not his most favorite thing in the world.

But there it was. A bottle of Brandy. Sam pushed away the hesitation and grabbed a glass and poured it a little more than a third full. He brought the glass to his lips and felt the warm liquid burn his throat as it went down. In a moment the glass was empty. He filled it to the same height and downed it again. He seemed to lose track of time and suddenly his thoughts had turned to mush.

Sam sighed contently as his vision grew a rim of haze. His mind dulled and, thoughtlessly, he stumbled from the kitchen to the map room, bottle of Brandy still in hand. He giggled as he took another sip of the alcohol. Sam climbed on top of the map and laid back on it.

"I'm laying on the world," Sam said dumbly, laughing as his tipsy-mind thought it was hilarious. He thought it was ever more funny when he realized that no one was their to hear him.

Sam lifted the Brandy to his lips, but since he way laying down, the alcohol spilt all over his face and shirt. He coughed, sitting up and attempting, but failing, to wipe away the liquid. He once again thought it was the most hysterical thing in the world and broke out into a fit of cackles.

"Sam?" a familiar voice asked from the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Sam rolled his head to the sound and smiled. "Hey, Jack, buddy," Sam giggled and laid back down on the map, his arm hanging off the side with the bottle of liquor in hand.

Jack looked between the alcohol and much-too-happy Sam. "Are you... drunk?" Jack asked, stepping forward, his brows knitted together in confusion. It was strange seeing Sam so giddy and child-like.

"Totally." Sam smiled and then straightened his face, serious. "I mean, no. Totally not."

Jack hesitated. He wasn't really sure how to handle this. He thought maybe he should called Dean, but figured he was either hunting or asleep. It was just Sam. Drunk Sam, but he was still Sam.

"Could I ask why?" Jack stepped forward so he was right next to the table map. Sam met his eyes for a moment before bringing the Brandy to his mouth and tilting the bottle up. Since he short-term memory was shot at the moment, the liquor once again spilled onto his face.

Jack raised his brows in amusement as Sam wiped it away the back of his hand, the one not holding the bottle. Sam rolled off of the table, ignoring Jack's question. He landed on the ground with a thud. Jack cringed and rounded the table to find Sam on his face. He bent down to help his dad up when Sam stood quickly.