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There was a reason Bray Wyatt didn’t consume alcohol. It had nothing to so with his beliefs, as Abigail wasn’t overly fond of the stuff, nor with his past experiences when living with his drunk-of-a-father. It turns out that it had everything to so with the fact that Bray Wyatt couldn’t hold it as Dean is quickly learning.
He was currently trapped in a large bear hug that’s got him trapped in Bray’s lap on the couch in the cabin. He had goaded Bray into have a shot or three and this was the result of it.
“Will you let me the fuck go?” Dean growls for the third time, attempting to wiggle his way out of the tight hold.
“No,” comes the muffled, slurred reply. Bray tightens his hold, nearly to the point where Dean couldn’t breath. He’s got his face buried in Dean’s shirt.
Dean lets out a frustrated noise, quickly shooting a glare at the two snickers that follow. Erick and Luke are in the room as well. Luke is lounging in the single reclining chair while Erick is in Bray’s rocking chair. Both men have looks of amusements on their faces.
“We did try to warn you,” Erick reminds and he - they - did. They told him that is wasn’t a good idea after Bray’s first shot but Dean hadn’t listened because they didn’t exclusively say why it was a bad idea.
“You chose not to listen so now you’re stuck with the consequences of your actions.” Luke adds pointedly with a grin.
“Yeah well I hope this fucker recovers better than he handles drinking,” Dean grumbles, halfheartedly slapping at the hand that was heading for his hair.
“He should actually pass out soon. It’s been in his system long enough,” Erick makes a show of looking at his wrist, even though he didn’t have - or own - a watch. There wasn’t even a clock in the cabin.
“Wait…what? What do you fucking mean - hey!” As if on cue, Bray slumps sideways, pulling Dean along with him.
It takes a moment for him to shift and get comfortable, all the while somehow managing to keep his hold on Dean all while he does so. Eventually he ends up half way on top of Dean with his face buried in the junction of Dean’s neck and should. He breathes in, murmuring something that sounds like “you smell nice, so nice darlin” before he’s out, soft snores following soon after.
“Just fucking great,” Dean complains, shoving at the dead weight that has him effectively pinned on the couch, “Let me guess, he’s pretty much out until morning?”
Both Erick and Luke confirm with a nod and start pushing themselves to their feet.
“Where the fuck are you two going?” Dean demands, “You aren’t going to help me out here?” he indicates with the free hand he has.
“To bed,” Erick answers with a yawn, heading for the hallway that lead to the bedrooms.
“And no we aren’t going to help, we told you not to but you did so this is your punishment,” Luke explains as he walks over to blow out the lantern and cast the room in darkness, “besides, we don’t want Bray pissed at us because of you Lamb.” Luke stops at the back of the couch to grin down at Dean once more before disappearing down the hall, “Sweet dreams, we’ll see you in the morning.”
“Fuck,” Dean mutters, glaring at Bray’s sleeping form, “Fuckity fuck fuck.”