@rsheph sent — BABYSIT: for one muse (resh) to help the other home (dean) while they’re drunk.
he’s fine. he’s fine. he’s fiiiiiine. he’s...floating? no, no, that isn’t right — he can’t float...mark that down to the alcohol, he hopes. but... a pause while he stills himself (he wasn’t actually moving), arms shot out by his sides as if he were a high tightrope walker over a deep canyon. one arm grazes another body he’s only now noticing is holding him up, finally giving his attention to his surroundings after...who knows how long it had been since he’d even noticed where he was.
wasn’t he in a bar? this wasn’t a bar.
head whips around to said body and he finds himself face to face with...good question. “ th’ hell are you?? ” while his words sound clear as day to his own ears, what the stranger hears is more likely a string of incoherent mumbles and grunts with accompanying wild hand gestures. the true drunken winchester way.
things were only going up for him from there as his daring escape from the strangers grasp (what grasp, dean) leaves him tangled in the rug beneath his feet. his overly loose drunken body practically folds with the trip, crumpling against the floor at the other’s feet like an uncoordinated toddler. and of course he just lies there, staring up at the stranger with an odd look on his face, which brings just as odd of a question. “ — we met before or somethin’? ”