Oh five hundred.
Dean slapped the alarm clock.
Well, fuck.
Dean groaned. His throat felt like he had eaten crushed glass last night and honestly he did not think that was the case. He curled over on himself, pulling the blanket across his body and shivered a bit. Eyes slitted, he leaned over the edge of the bed and spat into the trash can
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Comments 91
Then, tongue to the roof of his mouth he tasted smoke, whiskey and girl.
That about covers it, right.
Good stuff!
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Do you know that feeling of morning breath times 20? That's our boy the morning after.
Glad you liked it! Good to see you back on the fic-reading horse!
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I see Kimmer's "aww" and raise it five hundred!
Aww, SAMMY. What a bro.
Although...*whimpers* I had to work until almost midnight last night and I'm all fried and sleepy-eyed and I'm going "Ow ow OW" while I read this. Poor Dean. Poor me. We need pie.
Will Sammy come detail *my* car now? I'll pay him.
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Poor Carol, working till midnight is no good. *offers you and Dean pie*
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I second that sentiment, to Sammy and to you. Great fic, thanks so much for sharing!
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