Title: Reader's Special: First Edition - One Shot Reward Fic Collection
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A collection of One Shot Reward Fics for Prompters of my Reader's Special: First Edition. Features many seasons, hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean/John/Bobby See each chapter for specific info for each one shot reward fic.
Author's Note: The Reader's Special: First Edition was such brilliant fun thanks to all the wonderful people who prompted the story for each chapter that I offered each prompter a One Shot Reward fic of their choice. None of the chapters contained in this Fic are connected. Each one is a stand-alone one shot per the Prompters request. Thank you to all of you who prompted the Reader's Special! You were fantastic!
Chapter Info: For Shannanigans: A one-shot of my very own? Well... I guess we'll go with my
unfortunate addiction to drunk/drugged/concussed Sammy and ask for - Sam's
first time getting drunk.
Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
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"Come on, Sammy." Dean tugged his sixteen year old brother's sleeve and rolled his eyes at the groan.
"Dean, I've got homework to do." Sam argued, waving his book in the air. Dean took it and tossed it on the bed.
"Tough. We need money 'til Dad gets back so I gotta hustle some pool." Dean pulled him up off the ratty motel bed. "That means you might have to drive me home." He said with a grin. "You wouldn't want me getting behind the wheel halfcocked, right?" He knew it was the one argument that would get Sam out the door and he was right.
"Not fair." Sam groaned but let Dean shove him toward the door and took the jacket he tossed at him.
"Big brother rule." Dean laughed as he closed the room door behind them. "Big brothers are never fair."
"Such a jerk." Sam let himself into the passenger side of the Impala and did his best not to smirk as Dean called him a bitch and fired up the engine.
The town boasted several bars but only one with pool tables. It was a biker roadhouse and Dean parked and strolled in with total confidence. "Get comfy." He told his brother and gave him a pat on the shoulder at the bar as he headed back to the tables. He sized up the players at the three tables in minutes and allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he settled on his marks.
Sam watched Dean strut back to the tables and sighed. He slid onto a bar stool and lamented that his evening of studying had been traded for an evening of loud music and flat coke.
"What can I getcha?" The bartender came over, brows raised and smiled. "Beer or the hard stuff?"
Sam stared at him for a moment in surprise. He was sixteen and usually, bartenders picked up on his young age. It dawned on him then that he had sprouted in the last year and stood on a level with his big brother. He smiled then. "Whiskey please." He barely restrained a laugh when the bartender didn't even bat an eye; just poured him his drink and left him too it. Sam leaned up in his seat to look for his brother; seeing him already bent over the pool table he turned back and grabbed the glass. He'd wondered recently why his brother and Dad and even Uncle Bobby loved the stuff and finally he was going to get his chance. Sam took a cautious sip of the liquor and swallowed. He barely held back the cough that made his eyes water. A chuckle made him look up to find the Bartender standing in front of him again.
"Not your usual drink?" He asked.
Sam panicked for just a moment and then smiled. "Uh, usually just drink beer." He shrugged. "Thought I'd try something different."
The bartender laughed. "Whiskey works better if you just knock it back."
Sam nodded, trying his best to look mature and smiled. "Thanks." He picked the glass back up and tipped the contents back in one go. He blew out a loud breath as the burn crept back up his throat.
"More?" The bartender asked with a smirk. "Or are you back to beer?"
Sam shook his head and put the glass back. "Naw it's good." He said on a wheeze and laughed at himself. The bartender nodded and refilled his glass, leaving the bottle to sit beside it as three men in leather jackets at the other end of the bar yelled for him.
"Knock yourself out." He told Sam and left him there.
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Dean set his pool cue aside with a smile of triumph and swept the wad of bills off the side of the table. "Thanks for the game boys." He grinned and gave a salute to the two bikers he'd cleaned out. For a moment they looked angry and then they shook their heads and smiled, shaking his hand before he left. Dean liked the rare occurrence of someone appreciating how well they'd been played and taking it gracefully. He was up almost two hundred dollars in only two hours and headed back to collect his little brother with a satisfied grin. He'd only had a few beers while playing; the bikers had proved a challenge but he figured he'd let Sam drive home anyway so he wouldn't feel like Dean dragged him out for no reason.
"Hey, Sammy!" Dean called as he neared the bar and then stopped dead in his tracks. His little brother was practically lying on the bar and turned around to him with a cock-eyed grin, waving an arm.
"Dean!" Sam yelled and then started to giggle.
"Oh hell no." Dean breathed but it was happening; his baby brother, all of sixteen, was falling down drunk. He stalked over to him and stopped Sam from falling off his stool. "What the hell, Sam? You're drunk!"
Sam giggled again. "Naw, I just…I'm jusht haffing a…a drink."
Dean reached around him and picked up the glass, sniffing low end whiskey and groaned. "Dude, how did you even get served?"
Sam waved a floppy arm at the bartender down the other end of the bar. He leaned in to Dean, attempting to whisper but it was loud anyway. "He doesn't know!" Sam laughed and slapped a hand into Dean's chest. "He shinks…thinks I'm old." He looked up at Dean with a goofy grin. "Like you!"
"Gah! Dude, your breath is rank. Hey!" Dean yelled down the bar and the bartender came over with a smile. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
"Huh?" The man's smile faltered as he looked between the two men. "Look I know he's a little bombed but what's the big deal?"
"He's sixteen you idiot and you let him pickle himself?" Dean shouted and pulled his little brother off the stool. "Come on, Sam."
"Oh shit." The bartender paled. "Uh…look man, I swear I thought he was old enough! I mean, geez he's like seven feet tall!"
Dean ignored him and turned away, pulling Sam with him. "Dad is gonna kill me." Dean groaned and had to wrap an arm around Sam's waist to keep him on his watery legs. "How much did you drink?"
"I dunno." Sam snorted. "A bottle….bottle of somethin'."
"What were you thinking?" Dean yelled in his ear as they got outside. Any hopes he had of the cold night air sobering Sam up even a little vanished when his brother started giggling like an idiot again.
"Dude…ish cool." Sam tried to look up at the night sky and ended up tipping over backwards, only Dean's supporting arms keeping him from crashing to the ground. "Whoa. Stars are…stars are cool."
"Shit, Sammy." Dean shook his head and again considered how dead Dad was going to make him if he found out. "Good thing Dad's gone for two more days. We are never…never telling him about this. Get in the car." Dean let Sam stumble against the side of the Impala and opened the passenger door. "You puke in my baby I'm leaving you in a ditch."
Sam snickered, fraying his big brother's nerves even further and tumbled into the seat.
By the time Dean got around to the driver side, Sam had the radio blasting, the windshield wipers going and the hazard lights blinking. He got in and slapped Sam's hands away from the console. "Knock it off!" He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot to Sam's highly amused laughter. "A bottle, Sam? A whole damn bottle of whiskey?" Dean rubbed a hand over his face while his brother sang off tune along with the radio. He remembered the first time he got drunk. He hadn't meant to and Dad had made him hurt the next day but he hadn't been anywhere near as wasted as Sam. "You realize you're gonna wanna die before morning right?"
"Huh?" Sam snorted a laugh and grinned happily as he let his head roll back to the seat. "Nu-uh no way man. I feel awsh…awshome."
Dean pulled into the motel parking lot and up to their room door. Sam hadn't stopped singing the whole way and he rolled his eyes as he got out. He rounded the car, intending to get Sam out and wasn't fast enough. Sam had let himself out and was even now weaving past the door with a laugh. Dean could only watch as his foot caught the low curb and he sprawled face down on the sidewalk.
"Son of a bitch." Dean rushed to his side and turned him over. Sam laughed drunkenly up at him, oblivious to the blood pouring from his nose.
"Ow." Sam laughed.
"Dammit, Sam." Dean took his arms and pulled him upright. He reached a leg back to kick the car door shut and dragged Sam to the room and inside. He put him on the far bed. "Sit the hell down and stay there you idiot." He left Sam chortling to himself and grabbed a damp towel in the bathroom. He went back and had to pull Sam up from where he'd sprawled on the bed. "Head back." Dean pressed the towel into his bleeding nose and batted Sam's hands away when he tried to grab it. "Knock it off."
"Mmf. Hurtsh!" Sam said, voice muffled by the fabric.
"Good." Dean supported Sam's head between his hands and made him sit still until he was satisfied. Familiar as he was with the stages of drunkenness, even at just twenty-one, he knew when Sam's intoxication plateaued and he started to crash. He felt his brother's head get heavy in his hands, saw his eyes droop shut and smirked. The hangover wouldn't be far behind.
"Don't fall asleep yet." Dean told him and peeled the cloth away. His nose had stopped bleeding but his shirt was covered. Dean forced Sam's boneless arms out of his jacket and then yanked his shirts over his head.
"Quit it, D…Dean." Sam chuckled as Dean gave him a soft shove until he fell over, head landing on the pillow.
"Can't believe you tied one on on my watch." Dean groaned as he yanked Sam's shoes off and pulled the blanket up over him. "Stop giggling, Gidget and go to sleep already." The humor of the whole thing was starting to sink in. Sam had gotten himself well and truly trashed. He watched as Sam rolled into his pillow, yelled 'ow' again and rolled back. "Dude, you are ridiculous." Dean tugged the blanket up to his chin as Sam fell asleep and chuckled.
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Dean woke from a light sleep when he heard Sam groan. "Sam?" He looked over and saw Sam struggling out of the blanket looking decidedly green. "Oh boy." He scrambled up and freed his brother, grabbed him and all but dragged him to the bathroom. He got Sam's head over the toilet as the first violent heave struck him.
"Welcome to the not so fun part of being drunk, kiddo." Dean smirked and rested his hand on Sam's back as he threw up repeatedly. He spared a quick glance into the toilet and startled when he saw blood. "Shit! Sam?" He waited for a lull in heaving and pulled Sam's head back to see his nose had started bleeding again.
"Dean." Sam's voice was miserable. "Make it stop?"
"Sorry, tiger. Would if I could." And Dean meant it. Watching Sam suffer, even if it was self-inflicted was not something he would ever enjoy. He sighed as Sam started vomiting again and reached up to grab one of the threadbare hand towels. He folded it and slid it in front of Sam's face and over his nose, trying to avoid the bile spewing forth from his mouth; all the while rubbing circles into Sam's back to try and soothe him. He was so focused on that he didn't hear the motel room door open but he heard it slam shut and looked up in time to see their father run into the bathroom, anxiety plain on his face.
"Dean? What's happened?" John Winchester stared down at his sons. He'd seen a small pool of blood outside the door and coming in to hear Sam throwing up had not helped his panic level. "Is he ok?"
Dean leaned back, fear dropping into his gut like a cold stone when his Dad took Sam from his arms and tilted him back to see his face. "Um…Dad. I can explain."
John got a good look at his youngest son's swollen and bleeding nose, frowning in concern and then the smell hit him. He turned quickly smoldering eyes to his eldest and fixed him with a glare. "Why…does he smell like whiskey?" Dean stared at him open-mouthed. "Why is Sam drunk?"
"Not Dean's fault." Sam said and then dove back for the toilet, gasping for air between the heaves. "S'all me."
"Dean." John ordered and watched Dean deflate before his eyes.
"I uh…I took him out with me." Dean dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to look his Dad in the eyes. "I left him at the bar and the uh…bartender, he thought Sam was old enough."
"There's a reason you didn't tell him otherwise?" John demanded and Dean paled further.
"I was hustling pool." Dean muttered and rolled his eyes when his Dad continued to stare at him. "I was hustling pool." He said again louder. Dean took his life in his hands, moving closer to his Dad so he could reach Sam's face again with the cloth. "I found him when I came back for him. Drank a whole bottle. God, Dad I'm sorry."
"Not yet, you're not." John said ominously and turned back as Sam's retching finally went silent. "Sammy? All done?" Sam nodded and leaned his head back, Dean's hand attached to his nose with the towel. "I've got this, Dean." John moved his hand aside and took a look for himself. "Let's get you cleaned up." He helped Sam stand and propped him up against the sink to clean off his face and let him rinse his mouth out.
Dean stood back feeling useless while his Dad took over and ever so often would send a fulminating look at him. He paced beside them as Sam let their Dad lead him back to bed. Dean pulled the blanket out of the way and tucked it over Sam once he was lying down. He sat on the foot of the bed and waited for the inevitable as his Dad straightened and looked down at him.
"I'm disappointed in you, Dean." John said quietly and it was probably the worst condemnation he could give. Dean's shoulders shook but he steeled himself and looked up.
"It's my fault. I should have been paying attention." Dean glanced at Sam's sleeping form. "I'm sorry, Dad."
John watched his son's miserable face and finally rolled his eyes to the ceiling in a bid for patience before he sat on the edge of the other bed. "He's the one you'll be apologizing to when he wakes up tomorrow." He nodded at Sam and then fixed a stern look on Dean. "Would you have even told me about this if I'd stayed the extra two days?" Dean's silence told him all he needed and finally he gave a soft laugh. "I suppose I should have expected this." He glared at Dean. "You were fifteen."
"Aw, Dad." Dean dropped his head, scrubbing an embarrassed hand through his hair.
John chuckled. "All the things I thought I was going to walk into when I saw the blood outside…" He rubbed a relieved hand over his face. "This was NOT on the list. Go to bed, Dean."
"You're not gonna…you know, kill me?" Dean asked; a flash of hope on his face and his father gave him his best dangerous smile. John watched with satisfaction as Dean's face paled once more.
"Oh I'll find a way to take this out of your hide." He stood and cuffed a hand upside Dean's head. "And his, when he can stand without throwing up again. Sleep."
"Great." Dean grumbled as he grabbed his sleep pants and headed for the bathroom. "How'm I supposed to sleep with that hanging over my head?"
John smothered his laugh as the bathroom door shut and sighed, looking over at Sam and then up at the ceiling. "Doing my best, Mary." He said softly and then did laugh as a loud burp came from Sam as he slept.
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The End.