House of the Dragon 1x08: Before the dinner, Aemond was talking to Aegon that he was drinking more than a Bravosi Lord and Aegon replied that he is drinking the right amount.
Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Seven
Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Seven
“Aren’t you done yet?” Luka half laughed, half groaned, banging his head against the bathroom door.
“Perfection takes time,” Adrien informed primly from within. “It’s my first show. I want to make a good impression.”
Luka clicked his tongue. “Perfect Fifth, they’re going to love you, but you take longer in the bathroom than my ex, and I still need to do my makeup.”
There was a beat before Adrien tentatively asked, “…Are we at a point where we can make jokes about your ex?”
Luka contemplated this for a moment and winced, admitting, “No. No, I actually don’t think we are.”
“…Okay. That’s okay,” Adrien assured, opening the bathroom door.
Luka, still resting his head against the door in question, nearly fell over into Adrien.
Afterwards, he was equal parts glad and disappointed that he hadn’t crashed into his roommate because, if he had, Luka would not have been able to control himself.
As things stood, Luka got an eyeful of Adrien in ripped, black skinny jeans and punk couture topped off with messy, wild hair and a generous helping of eyeliner.
Luka’s temperature shot through the roof as all the blood in his body rushed south.
A frown slowly knitted Adrien’s eyebrows together as he watched his friend closely for a reaction and didn’t seem to get a positive one.
“…How…do I look?” he pressed tentatively, beginning to shift his weight uneasily back and forth, fidgeting under Luka’s intense gaze.
Luka was preoccupied with fantasies of pushing Adrien up against a wall and sticking his tongue down Adrien’s throat.
…Better yet, Adrien pushing Luka up against a wall and sticking his tongue down Luka’s throat.
“Is it that bad?” Adrien demanded, beginning to panic as he took the shocked silence the wrong way. “Did I put on too much eyeliner? I’m sorry. I should have asked for your help, but I thought I knew what I was doing because I’ve seen the way you dress, so I thought—”
“—Sorry. What?” Luka cut him off, managing to shake himself loose from his daydreams. “I’m sorry. I spaced for a minute there. What are we talking about?”
Adrien blinked twice slowly. “…Um… Do I look bad? You were staring.”
“Oh! No! Nonono,” Luka assured, waving his hands in an attempt to clear up the misunderstanding. “Sorry. NO. You look great. I was just…”
Some of the blood deigned to come back up into his face to make him look like a cherry tomato.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m a little out of it. You look perfect. I love you—your eyeliner. And the hair,” Luka covered, mentally smacking himself.
“Oh,” Adrien responded uncertainly. “Thank you? I was kind of going for a Chat Noir vibe.”
“You look amazing.” Luka finally got it together and replied with an earnest smile. “You really nailed it. Jacob and Josie are going to coo and fuss over you.”
“Are you going to coo and fuss over me?” Adrien hummed, resting his forearm on the wall and leaning so that he very much resembled Chat Noir: lithe and predatory and very dangerous to Luka’s sanity in such tight clothing.
“I don’t think your ego really needs it,” Luka countered, “but I’ll consider it if you don’t make us late and we have a few minutes before we need to leave for the show.”
Adrien pulled out his phone and winced at the time. “Looks like my ego will have to wait to be stroked because we’re cutting it close as is.”
“Pity,” Luka sighed, not sure if he’d dodged a bullet or been deprived of an opportunity.
True to Luka’s word, Josie and Jacob did, in fact, coo and fuss over Adrien when he and Luka arrived at the bar where they’d be playing.
“Look at him!” Jacob exclaimed, showing Adrien to Marc like a prize being revealed on a gameshow. “He’s so precious! He looks like a real baby punk!”
Josie shot Luka a lascivious grin and quietly teased, “So, how are you holding up with him wearing those pants?”
Luka took her by surprise by answering honestly: “I’m going out of my freaking mind. Thank you for asking.”
The smirk promptly dropped off of Josie’s face to be replaced by a look of concern. “Luc, are you okay?”
Luka shook his head. “Adrien is the guy Marinette never got over, and Adrien had feelings for her too in the past, so when they meet up again, I can only guess at what will happen.”
Josie winced. “That…really sucks.”
“Yeah, so there’s no point in letting my feelings for him come back only so he can break my heart too,” Luka sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of hard with him looking like that.”
“Everything okay?” Marc called out, drawing Jacob and Adrien’s attention to Luka.
Adrien’s eyes narrowed, and he came over to touch Luka’s cheeks and forehead, testing for fever. “Are you still feeling out of it, Orpheus? You do feel a little warm.”
Adrien’s hands on Luka’s skin only served to make Luka’s temperature jump an additional degree or two.
“I’ll be all right. Thanks,” Luka lied, slipping out of Adrien’s reach. “Probably just a twenty-four-hour bug. I’m going to go start the equipment check.”
Jacob opened his mouth to comment, but Josie caught him by the sleeve and whispered in his ear.
Marc quirked an eyebrow, and Josie repeated what Luka had told her for him as well.
Collectively, the group grimaced.
“What’s going on, guys?” Adrien inquired, looking back and forth worriedly between Luka’s retreating back and the rest of their bandmates.
“He’s just feeling a little depressed and hopeless right now,” Marc explained with a sad but kind smile. “We’ll have to figure out some way to make him feel better and lighten up a bit.”
“We should do something fun together,” Jacob agreed, going to sling an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “No need to worry about it now, though. Right now, we just need to get through the show.”
Adrien nodded as Jacob led him over to the equipment to prepare for the performance.
“That was amazing!” Josie squealed, throwing her arms around Adrien as soon as they made it off stage.
“I can’t believe we pulled that off without a hitch,” Jacob laughed giddily, carding a hand through his spikey hair.
Marc rolled his eyes, giving everyone pats on the back. “I mean, we have been practicing every day this week for hours.”
“Still, Adrien was incredible,” Luka chimed in, giving Adrien’s arm a squeeze. “That was flawless.”
He looked around at his bandmates with an enormous, grateful grin. “Thank you so much for your patience with me this week. Thank you for letting me be a part of your group. This was really a team effort, and I never could have done it without you.”
“Aww. He’s so modest,” Jacob chuckled, pulling Adrien into a side hug and ruffling his hair.
“You could have managed without Jacob,” Josie snickered, giving the bassist a teasing elbow.
“Josephine, play nice,” Marc sighed in exasperation, shaking his head with a fond smile.
“We should celebrate!” Josie announced, pointedly ignoring Marc’s reprimand. “Who wants to get some drinks and dance?”
“Me!” Jacob’s hand shot up, and he proceeded to bounce up and down in place. “Me-me! Me!”
Luka winced. “I…can’t. I drove over here, and I need to be able to get Adrien home safe.”
“I could get you guys home,” Marc volunteered. “I need to bow out so I can go tuck my little girl in, but I can come back later and drive you home.”
“Hold up,” Adrien demanded. “You have a daughter?”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t shown you pictures yet,” Josie scoffed.
“Her name is Antoinette,” Marc gushed, beaming with pride. “She’s two years old, and she’s the best thing I’ve done in my entire life.” He whipped out his phone and navigated to his photos.
“Aww,” Adrien cooed as he looked at the picture of a pale toddler with ink black hair and even darker eyes in a green party dress with her arms wrapped around a fluffy white Maltese. “Marc, she’s adorable!”
“Thank you,” Marc preened. “I wish I could take the credit, but that’s all my wife Wakana.”
“Her smile is yours, though,” Adrien observed.
“You are the sweetest thing,” Marc laughed, patting Adrien on the shoulder before turning to Luka. “I should be back in about an hour, but you can stay later, if you feel like it. You feeling emotionally well enough to drink responsibly?”
Luka’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. “Maybe?” he fibbed.
Honestly, he was on the edge and could easily go either way. It could turn out to be a fun night with friends or the start of another drunken grief spiral.
Marc pursed his lips.
“Don’t fret so much,” Jacob chided, clicking his tongue as he slung his arm around Luka’s shoulders. “You’re no fun, Maman. I’ll look after Luc.”
“This does not inspire confidence,” Marc sighed.
“I’ll keep an eye on Luka,” Adrien volunteered. “I don’t drink, so I can play babysitter and make sure everyone’s okay until you get back, Marc.”
“Thank you,” Marc replied, only slightly exaggerating his relief. “I feel better leaving an adult in charge.”
“You don’t drink?” Josie pressed, ignoring Marc’s slight as she looped her arm through Adrien’s.
Adrien shook his head and smiled in embarrassment. “Yeah…I kind of don’t like not being in control. It’s dangerous, making yourself vulnerable like that. It would be different if we were somewhere safe and it was just people I trusted, but…”
Josie’s eyes narrowed. “Chéri, are you okay? Who hurt you?”
Adrien shrugged, averting his gaze, still not quite ready to admit that he’d been on the streets until just a few days prior.
Luka broke away from Jacob and went to Adrien’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eye intently. “We don’t have to stay, if you’re uncomfortable. Just say the word, and I’ll take you home. It’s totally fine, Perfect Fifth. I don’t mind, honestly.”
“No, no,” Adrien assured, waving away Luka’s concern with one hand. “It’s good. I’m not uncomfortable, but thank you so much for always being so considerate. I appreciate it. No, I like dancing, so I have no problem hanging out with everyone.”
Luka let go of the breath he’d been holding, and the tension slowly faded from his body. “Okay. Good. Just let me know if you start feeling uncomfortable, though. Any time. I want to make sure you feel safe.”
Adrien smiled brightly, gratitude and affection filling his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Can we meditate for a moment on the fact that he calls him ‘Perfect Fifth’?” Jacob demanded, unable to hold in his laughter. “That is the sappiest thing, and I’m kind of jealous because I never got a cute pet name like that when I was dating him.”
“Ouch,” Adrien snickered, pulling away from Josie to wrap his arms possessively around Luka. “Sucks to be you. Guess Luka just loves me more.”
Marc shoot Luka a pitying look as he wondered if it were really okay to let Luka drink that night after all.
Meanwhile, Jacob cackled. “Ow! I am wounded. Even more so because it’s probably true.”
“So…if you’re Luka’s perfect fifth,” Josie puzzled, “does that make Luka your tonic?”
Adrien hummed softly in thought, not noticing as Luka tried not to spontaneously combust in mortification.
Not for the first time, Luka thanked the heavens that he was taller than Adrien so that Adrien couldn’t see the look on Luka’s face as Adrien embraced him.
“I mean…yeah,” Adrien replied softly, resting his head on Luka’s chest. “Luka’s always been my ‘tonal center’ in a way. Whenever I felt frazzled or lost as a teen, I knew I could go to him to help me find my way again…so I guess he is my tonic.”
“Aww,” Josie cooed. “That’s adorable. I was teasing, but you are just too cute.”
“Yeah,” Jacob sighed with a shrug. “I know when I’ve been beat. You win, Adrien. I could never say something that gooey with a straight face. You and Luka deserve each other.”
Adrien made a move to pull back to reply, but Luka hugged him in tighter, afraid that how he felt for Adrien was written plainly all over his face and that if Adrien saw it, he wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing a flat with Luka anymore.
“Sorry,” Luka whispered, burying his face in Adrien’s hair. “That’s…That’s really sweet. It means a lot to me that you think of me that way.”
“Of course,” Adrien chuckled, not minding the affection in the least. “You’re one of the few people in my life I’ve always been able to count on.”
“Okay, seriously,” Josie huffed. “Who hurt you? Who do I need to go beat up?”
Adrien broke away from Luka and turned to placate Josie. “It’s really not that bad. Please don’t assault anyone on my behalf.”
Luka turned away and quickly attempted to compose himself.
Marc gave him a questioning look, a silent offer of assistance, but Luka shook his head.
Jacob quirked an eyebrow.
“I reserve my right to assault whoever I determine deserves it,” Josie insisted indignantly, reaching out to ruffle Adrien’s hair.
Adrien gave up and submitted to Josie’s attentions with a small sigh and a reluctant smile. “Thank you, but I really am fine.”
“You’ll never convince her of that,” Luka informed, briskly changing the subject. “Let’s go get some drinks, shall we?”
Luka had regrets.
At that moment, his regrets were named Whiskey and Adrien.
More specifically, Adrien’s dancing.
Adrien dancing like that while wearing skinny jeans that reminded Luka how he had worshipped Chat Noir’s butt back in the day.
Luka didn’t really dance, but Jacob and Adrien had hit the dance floor, and seeing them together made Luka irrationally jealous, so he’d gone over there and started dancing with Adrien…and the alcohol in Luka’s blood was trying to convince him that it would be a good idea to tug Adrien in gently so that their bodies were pressed flush together and then kiss him for all he was worth.
Objectively, Luka knew that this was a very, very bad plan…but the way Adrien was swiveling his hips gave Luka ideas that would be easier to shake if he were sober.
And Luka was not sober.
“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked over the music in an attempt to distract himself from the bad ideas.
Adrien’s face flushed. “Mostly Chloé. She had alternating phases where she was really obsessed with pole dancing, belly dancing, and burlesque.”
“Oh,” Luka replied dumbly.
“Alya taught me a little too, though. Nino tried, but our styles are different,” Adrien elaborated, body flowing like liquid to the beat as he spoke. “I don’t think all of my lessons in ballroom and Latin dance count, but…I’m sure you’ll recognize where I stole this cute butt wiggle from.”
Luka did indeed recognize Marinette’s patented butt wiggle, and it made him feel all kinds of things he didn’t want to feel.
“Is that Marc over by the bar?” Luka asked, craning his neck as if trying to get a better view.
Adrien frowned and stopped dancing to look too. “…I don’t…think I see him?”
“I think that was him,” Luka lied. “You go ahead and keep dancing with Jacob and Josie. I’m going to meet up with Marc and take a seat.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Adrien inquired uncertainly. “Want me to walk you?”
Luka shook his head, needing to get away so that he could stop feeling so much. “Nah. He’s just over there. I can make it across the room by myself. You keep having fun, Angel.”
“O…Okay,” Adrien replied, still uneasy as Luka smiled reassuringly before turning to go.
Luka was quickly swallowed up by the crowd, and Adrien couldn’t quite relax after losing sight of him.
Luka made a beeline for the bar, numbing himself with more alcohol.
Fortunately, Marc really did show up within a few minutes and found Luka before too much harm could be done.
“I take it the evening took a turn for the worse?” Marc sighed, gently taking Luka’s glass away from him.
Luka groaned, resting his forehead on the counter. “I’m in love with him. I never stopped loving him, and now he’s going to start dating Marinette, and I’m going to have to pretend to be okay with this, to be happy for them, and I can’t do it. I can’t do this.”
“I think you’re catastrophizing,” Marc informed softly, reaching out to rub soothing circles between Luka’s shoulder blades. “I know it feels hopeless now, but hang in there, okay? Things will look a little less dark in the morning. You’re going to get through this.”
Luka shook his head.
“Shhh,” Marc cooed, giving Luka’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yes, you will. You’re strong, Luc. You’re tough, and you’re going to make it if I have to drag you out the other side.”
“What happened?!” Adrien gasped, stunned at the state he found Luka in fifteen minutes later.
Marc winced. “I think the alcohol suddenly hit him all at once.”
“Luka, are you okay?!” Adrien was at his side, fussing and carrying on, in seconds.
“No,” Luka moaned.
“He’ll be okay in the morning,” Marc promised through a doubtful grimace. “Or…at least by tomorrow evening. He just needs to throw up and sleep it off.”
Marc’s reassuring words did nothing to loosen Adrien’s pinched frown.
“Don’t worry,” Marc soothed, reaching out to rest a hand on Adrien’s upper arm. “He’s going to be okay. Trust me.”
Slowly, tentatively, Adrien nodded.
They packed Josie and Jacob into a cab to Josie’s house to take care of one another for the night and then loaded Luka into the backseat of Luka’s car, most of his weight supported by Adrien.
“You’re beautiful,” Luka purred as he played dazedly with Adrien’s hair. “So pretty.”
“Thank you,” Adrien replied self-consciously, not sure how to respond. “You’re pretty too.”
“You’re going to-to hurt me,” Luka chuckled darkly.
Adrien gave a start. “No, I’m not. I would never do anything to hurt you, Luka.”
“Not on purpose,” Luka hummed, dropping his head to Adrien’s shoulder. “Not on purpose…porpoise.” He laughed at that.
“Not on porpoise,” Adrien agreed, still feeling like he was on shaky ground.
“…I love you,” Luka snickered, giving Adrien’s neck a wet kiss.
Adrien gasped, his nerve endings lighting up as his stomach flipped involuntarily.
It wasn’t like the other times Luka had said those words or given Adrien a platonic kiss on the cheek or temple or forehead. It felt different and wrong and right all at the same time.
Adrien wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
“I…I love you too, Luka,” Adrien answered in the most conversational tone he could manage.
Luka only laughed, further unsettling Adrien.
When they got back to the apartment building, it took both Marc and Adrien to awkwardly trundle Luka up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom.
That accomplished, Marc turned to Adrien with a delicate smile.
Adrien recognized it as the kind of smile he’d often received when the person smiling was about to attempt to manage Adrien.
His defences automatically went up.
“I think I’ve got it from here,” Marc informed with a tired sigh. “Thanks for your help.”
Adrien blinked, thrown off balance. “Uh…you’re welcome. I was actually about to say the same thing to you. I think I’m okay now, if you want to go home.”
Marc shook his head. “It’s okay, Adrien. I’ll stay with him.”
It sounded like a polite implication that Adrien should leave, and Adrien wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Luka had repeated over and over again that this was Adrien’s home now as much as Luka’s, but, suddenly, Adrien was feeling like an intruder all over again.
He turned to Luka. “Orpheus, do you want me to stay with you, or do you want Marc?”
“Marc can stay,” Luka grumbled out from under the arm he had tossed over his face. “Go ahead and go to bed, Perfect Fifth.”
Adrien pulled away, averting his gaze and wrapping his arms around himself. “Well…okay, then. I guess I’m no use here, so…um…I’ll just be in the other room if you need help finding things or something.”
“Thank you, Adrien. I’m pretty familiar with the house, though,” Marc replied with a strained smile.
“Right. Of course,” Adrien muttered, cheeks bursting into flames of humiliation. “Sorry. I’ll just…I’ll get out of your way.”
He’d gotten halfway to the door before Marc caught up and caught Adrien by the shoulder.
“You are not in the way, Adrien,” Marc assured gently, quietly so that Luka wouldn’t hear. “I have no doubt you’d do an amazing job of taking care of him. It’s not about you being capable or not. It’s just that he’s going through some stuff, and he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. He cares about what you think of him, and he doesn’t want you to see him as a mess.”
Adrien’s eyes rounded as he saw the sincerity in Marc’s expression.
“He doesn’t care if I see him gripping the edges of the toilet seat and puking his guts out,” Marc explained, “but he’d die if you saw him like that. He wants you to respect him and think he’s cool and all that.”
Adrien gave a soft snort. “I do respect him and think he’s cool.”
“Good,” Marc chuckled tiredly. “I’m glad to hear that…but he probably still wouldn’t want you to see him like this…you know?”
Adrien stuck out his lip in a pout but begrudgingly nodded anyway. “I just want to help, though.”
“You have been helping,” Marc assured, resting his hands on Adrien’s shoulders. “Everything you’ve done for him since you moved in has been tremendous. Trust me. I’ve seen him before and after you coming back into his life, and he has been doing so much better these past few days. You are a miracle worker…but I think it’s best if I take this one tonight…if that’s okay?”
Reluctantly, Adrien agreed. “…Yeah. I don’t like it, but I get it. I’ve…I’ve not reached out for help before when I needed it because I was afraid to let people see how bad things had gotten, so I do get it.”
“Good.” Marc gave Adrien’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze before pulling back. “You can help out again in the morning. He’ll need breakfast and aspirin and plenty of water. I’ll turn him over to you in the morning, but I’ll go ahead and take the night shift, all right?”
“All right,” Adrien affirmed, finally feeling a little better about it all.
So long as Luka still needed him. So long as Adrien wasn’t in the way.
“Perfect Fiiiiiifth,” Luka groaned deliriously.
Adrien was back at his side in an instant. “I’m here. What’s wrong? What do you need?”
“I love you,” Luka choked, and it sounded more like a lament than an affectionate remark.
“Love you too,” Adrien answered anyway, leaning in to press a light peck to Luka’s forehead. “Marc’s going to take care of you now, so you be good, okay? See you in the morning.”
“I love you,” Luka repeated balefully.
Adrien gave Luka an encouraging smile and patted him on the shoulder. “I love you too. Feel better, Orpheus.”
On his way out, Adrien sent Marc a worried look.
Marc did his best to inspire confidence and optimism, but Adrien wasn’t easily convinced.
“Had you been more open,” her anguished words rang in his ears, as they had a hundred times since the day she spoke them. Because that was what it came down to, wasn’t it? At least that was the conclusion he had drawn. Everything she had flung at him, deserved or undeserved. Everything he had written in that fucking opus of a letter. It could have been avoided. If he’d opened himself, been unreserved about his actions and motivations. Truly brought her into his life.
And why hadn’t he just done that? If he talked to his professionals at The Meadows, they’d probably say that it had something to do with his cold, love-starved upbringing or the fact that sharing his thoughts or feelings would have cost him his life at one time. And maybe they would be right. It was certainly difficult for him to let people in — much easier to live life at arms’ length — and the thought of doing it with someone beyond his trusted circle frankly terrified him to his core.
But she’d already been in. Already been closer to him than almost anyone. He just hadn’t shown her that.
He’d lost her over something in his control.
He slammed his glass down on a nearby table and walked toward his closet, pulling his shirt over his head. Wrenching open the door, he grabbed his Quidditch kit and flung it on the bed. Flying was the only thing that could quiet his mind these days. Five minutes later he walked out of his hotel, broom in hand, and launched into the sky.
Wisps of cloud scudded in the dimming slate blue sky and the colors of the trees below were almost surreal - saturated oranges, yellows and reds. He climbed high in a straight, steep line and then pulled abruptly out of his ascent, wheeling over into a backwards dive that was so breakneck he felt gravity pulling hard against him. The ground was rising fast - but the object was to wait it out until the last minute. A good Wronski meant the blades of grass brushed your knees as you pulled up.
He accomplished it once, twice, three times - the steady ascent higher each time, the streaking fall and the last second redemption. But on the fourth, something went wrong. A distraction or miscalculation? Maybe he had been dwelling too much on a memory. All he knew was that he caught something, hit the earth, skidded for several dozen feet and came to unceremonious rest at the base of a very large thorned bush.
He lay flat on his back and laughed mirthlessly. Nothing felt broken, at least - lucky it hadn’t been his neck. He picked himself up, swung back on his broom and flew slowly back to the inn.
Warnings: drinking, alcohol poisoning, unconscious Sam, worried Dean
Note: I was very angry and betrayed when I wrote this, so I just shoved my feelings into a drabble-ish short angst thingy...
Sam sat on the floor of the kitchen, surrounded by bottles. Lots of them actually. Several empty beer bottles, two whiskey bottles, and a vodka bottle. One whiskey bottle was empty. The vodka bottle was knocked on its side, some of its contents spilled across the floor. Sam’s pants were soaked in it as well. He reeked of alcohol. Sam sat with his legs splayed out in front of him, his back against the counter. His head was hanging down, lolling against his chest. His hair was falling in his eyes. Drool dripped from his lips.
“What the ever-loving hell is this!” Dean had walked into the room and turned on the light, finding his brother sitting there, alone in the dark. Sam was unresponsive. Dean’s anger was suddenly turned to fear when he saw the bottles.
“Holy hell, did you drink all of this Sam? Sam!” He shook Sam’s shoulder, but Sam just fell over, hitting his head on the tile floor.
“Son of a bitch!”
Dean bent over and put his ear to Sam’s chest and was relieved to hear a heartbeat. His skin was a pale blue and his breathing was very shallow.
“Sammy, why did you do this, man?” Tears started to form in his eyes.
Dean thought about whether or not the bottles had been full. Clearly he drank all the beer – Dean counted 6 beer bottles. But the whiskey and the vodka? No way he could have drank all of that and still be alive. Dean had no way of knowing just how much Sam drank.
He saw the spilled vodka and the nearly full bottle of whiskey. So Dean figures Sam drank probably six beers and a bottle of whiskey. But the vodka? It was too hard to tell. However much it was - it was a shit ton. And Sam did have the bottles around him. Which means he may have planned to drink them.
“Sammy, what the hell man, what were you thinking?” He struggled to pick his brother off and carried him to the Impala. This was a trip to the hospital. Dean wasn’t taking any chances.
He was admitted quickly and hooked up to all kinds of tubes and machines. Dean was ready to give him a piece of his mind as soon as he woke up.
