Chocolate Chili/CNC/Blue Raspberry smoothie
Authors: Marina and Casey
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Cookies n’ Cream 19 (serve), Chocolate Chili 10 (mortification) [Marina]; Blue Raspberry 4 (hangover) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Smoothie
Word Count: 1,924
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean and Carrie make idiots of themselves, to Chase’s consternation and then amusement.
Notes: Since it’s never stated, I feel I should clarify that this is Carrie’s 21st birthday and therefore her first time ingesting alcohol at all, let alone on this scale. In some ways, she’s a huge troll where Dean is concerned :P Counts for the 1k marathon for me for the day.
Chase was deeply engrossed in one of the best fantasy books he had ever read when all of a sudden he heard giggles outside the apartment door. They intensified with the familiar jangle of Dean's keys and fumbling at the doorknob. "Oh, God," he muttered, getting up to let the new arrivals in.
The sheepish grins and red cheeks of his roommate and best friend told him everything he needed to know. "Hi, Chase," Carrie said, beaming vacantly and waving.
"You two are in so much trouble," he muttered, stepping aside for them.
"Trouble?" Dean grabbed at the doorjamb as he tilted dangerously. "But we made it home," he added, in extreme confusion, grinning at Chase.
"I noticed," Chase said dryly. Carrie snickered and ambled past him, flopping heavily on the couch.
Dean followed her in, making an attempt to grab the door and swing it shut and missing entirely. "Need water," he announced. "Care?"
"Me please!"
Chase sighed, shut the door himself, and steered Dean toward the couch. "I'll get it. Sit down before you hurt yourself."
"I'm fine." Dean waved a hand in dismissal, but ambled over to drop next to Carrie and somehow managed not to land on top of her. Still looking much too happy for her own good, Carrie began to pet him. Chase rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen for the water, hoping nothing too life-scarring would happen in his absence.
The giggling that started after his departure made him less than enthusiastic. "Stupid birthdays. Stupid alcohol," he muttered. He got two glasses from the cupboard and filled them from the water pitcher in the fridge.
When he returned, the two were sitting fairly staidly, although Dean's legs had ended up in Carrie's lap. Dean attempted to sit upright, though. "You're the best, Chase," he said happily.
"The very best," Carrie agreed, grinning at Chase as she patted Dean's feet. "The best of the best."
Chase lifted his eyes heavenward, but couldn't help smiling just a little as he handed them each a glass.
"Bestest," Dean added and snickered like he'd just said something completely hilarious.
Carrie started laughing, too. "That's not a word!"
"Is too!" he said, sticking his tongue out at her. She stuck hers out right back.
"Put those away and drink your water," Chase said, folding his arms.
Carrie just smirked at him. "Chase is mad at us," she informed Dean, very matter-of-factly.
"Chase likes to be mad at me. I don't always follow the rules," he said solemnly. "I'm bad."
Deciding not to dignify that with a reply, Chase went back to his beanbag chair and his book, although he was not counting on being able to concentrate with the two miscreants there.
"You're bad to Chase?" Carrie said, and he could just picture her widening her eyes. "Why would you do that?"
"I'm not bad to Chase, I'm..." he paused, and then: "some big word that doesn't like me right now."
"Big words always like me! Let's see." There was a short moment of blessed silence. "Mischievous? Rambunctious? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?"
"How can you do that?" Dean asked, sounding properly impressed. Chase had to wonder the same thing.
"My powers are great," Carrie intoned solemnly, which was true, and explained it well enough.
"They always have been. Happy birthday, Care," Dean said, followed by a loud smooching sound and more giggles from both.
"Okay, settle down, weirdos," Chase said, as loudly as possible, without looking up from his book.
"See, bein' bad," Dean said.
"You're so bad," Carrie agreed. "I think you need a time-out."
"No time-outs," Chase muttered, side-eyeing them.
"Time-out," Dean echoed, nodding sagely. Chase glanced at them again, reminding himself that they were clearly smashed and would not be behaving in such a scandalous manner otherwise. His friend made an attempt to lean closer to Carrie, saying, even more sagely: "Chase is not happy with us."
Carrie shoved his shoulder, laughing. "That's what I said."
Sighing patiently, Chase went back to his book, deciding that the path of least resistance was the better one in this situation. He had heard that the only thing that could really sober a person up was time, and judging by their actions, his friends were going to need a lot of it. Carrie was definitely not making it back to Madison that night, at any rate.
Dean grinned. "Not happy cuz of time-outs," he said, and then yawned.
"You need a nap," Carrie informed him.
He blinked at her, reaching out and petting her. "Wha's time?"
She began to pat her pockets. "Bedtime, I think." Chase slipped a bookmark into his place.
"Pro'ly. Was late when we left the pub." Dean swung his legs off her lap much more awkwardly than his usual ease and attempted to stumble to his feet. Carrie got up also, reaching over to steady him, although she wasn't moving terribly gracefully herself.
Chase collected their glasses and pointed them toward Dean's room. "Go sleep, you morons," he said, trying to sound amused.
Dean took two steps towards his bedroom, snagging Carrie's hand, and then paused, frowning slightly and glancing back at Chase, eyes a bit clearer than before. "Sleep," Chase repeated, lifting his eyebrows and hoping Dean would get the message.
Dean shot him a sloppy salute. "Yes, sir," he said and headed for his room, both of them weaving.
Chase watched them go, shook his head, and made a mental note to email his sister for a hangover remedy before he followed their example and went to bed himself.
***
The next morning, he was up before either of his friends, not that this surprised him in the slightest. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, got out pancake materials, and settled himself at the kitchen table to read and wait for one of them to appear. Dean stumbled out about half an hour later, eyes squinted, and still wearing the same clothes from the night before.
"Good morning," Chase said mildly, without looking up from his book.
He winced, hand going to his head. "Morning," he managed, opening the fridge and staring into it.
Chase couldn't help a slight smirk at seeing the wince. "Hungry?"
Dean poured himself a glass of water. "Uh, don't think so," he said, looking a little green around the gills. Then he squinted more, looking at Chase. "Did you let me break a rule last night?"
"Yep."
"Okay," he said, drawing the word out.
Chase shrugged. "You were both toasted. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it."
"Yeah. Never again," Dean said, sinking into the seat across from him.
"Mmhmm," Chase agreed. He did not dare look at Dean, knowing he was about two seconds away from laughing his butt off.
"If you laugh, please do it quietly."
"Yeah, there's no way. Do you even remember what you two said last night after you got in?"
Dean winced. "I barely remember getting home."
"That's what I thought." Chase felt the corners of his mouth twitching. It wasn't funny, or so he tried to tell himself, but sleep had brought a bit of humor to the situation, as well as the realization that he had blackmail material to last for the next five years.
"We...didn't do anything...embarrassing, did we?"
"I am so not giving you a recap of what you did, are you kidding me?"
Dean stared at him, more than a little worried. Chase could feel his eyes, but still refused to meet them. He took a demure sip of his orange juice instead. "You are horrible," Dean told him, and then very carefully dropped his head onto the table.
"I know. You're lucky I like you."
"I am," Dean agreed, wrapping his arms around his head. "Light's too bright," he added in a mutter.
"It's not even on," Chase replied, highly amused.
"Too bright," he repeated a bit more firmly.
"Sorry, Dean, we don't have blinds in here."
He groaned and attempted to burrow his head further into his arms.
At that moment, Carrie decided to join them, looking much more fresh and alert than Dean. "Morning," she said, shooting a glance at Chase as if to gauge his mood.
He did look up at her, if only briefly, then returned his eyes to his book. "Morning. I don't suppose you’re hungry."
"Haven't decided." She smiled and walked over to Dean. "Hey, you, still kickin'?"
"This is not fair," Dean muttered.
"So I guess we're skipping the drinking contest next time?" she asked, with a sly grin.
"Is that what happened?" Chase asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Yeah. Poor Dean's a lightweight." Carrie gently ran her fingers over Dean's scalp, looking at him with more sympathy than she spoke.
"'m not a lightweight," he said, still without picking up his head. "You're just magical. We had like a dozen shots each. Plus what we'd drank earlier."
Chase stared at her. "Wow, you are magical."
"A dozen? Damn." Carrie continued to stroke Dean's hair. "That must've been enough alcohol to kill a horse. Chase, I hereby humbly apologize and promise that it will never happen again."
"It better not. I don't want to have to take you two to the hospital next time."
"I also wanted it noted it was Carrie's idea," Dean volunteered, voice muffled by his arms.
Carrie raised her eyebrows. "You didn't have to agree."
"It was your birthday. You are my girlfriend. As if I'd do anything else."
A bright smile lit up her face. "I love you too, Deany dear. Want some Advil?"
"Please. How are you this magical?" he asked, finally peeking up at her.
She grinned. "Hell if I know. Chase? Any ideas?"
Chase rolled his eyes and got up to make the pancakes.
Dean sat up enough to sip at his water. Carrie produced a pill bottle and sat down next to him. "You're the bes-" That was as far as Dean got before he winced freshly. "Okay, that just came back."
Chase couldn't help it any longer. He had to put down the container of flour and grip the counter to keep from falling over as he laughed until he cried. Dean dropped his head back down with another groan. "Too loud, Chase."
"I'm sorry," Chase managed, trying to control himself for the sake of Dean's poor head. "It was just...so ridiculous..."
"Bestest," he muttered. "God, my vocabulary obviously tanks spectacularly when drunk."
"I told you it wasn't a word," Carrie said, chuckling. "Should've bet on that one. Man, missed opportunities."
"No betting with drunk people, even when you're drunk."
"Aw, damn."
"They don't hold anyway, even if you remember everything." Dean picked his head up again. "Do you remember everything? Chase wouldn't tell me shit."
"Hey!" Chase mustered up a death glare. "Not cool, even if you are hung over."
"Enough to know that we definitely made idiots of ourselves," Carrie said lightly.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, popping two Advil. "Wonderful. Sorry, Chase."
"It could have been worse," Carrie pointed out. "Alcohol poisoning is always worse."
"True. Guess we were lucky that way. Although I don't really feel lucky."
She kissed his temple. "You're always lucky. Your girlfriend loves you, and your roommate is very patient and wonderful despite being the most ridiculous person on the planet. Right, Chase?"
Chase got his chuckles under control and straightened. "I'm still holding you to that 'never again.'"
"Never again," he agreed fervently. Satisfied, Chase turned back to the counter and began mixing up the pancakes.
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Cookies n’ Cream 19 (serve), Chocolate Chili 10 (mortification) [Marina]; Blue Raspberry 4 (hangover) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Smoothie
Word Count: 1,924
Rating: PG
Summary: Dean and Carrie make idiots of themselves, to Chase’s consternation and then amusement.
Notes: Since it’s never stated, I feel I should clarify that this is Carrie’s 21st birthday and therefore her first time ingesting alcohol at all, let alone on this scale. In some ways, she’s a huge troll where Dean is concerned :P Counts for the 1k marathon for me for the day.
Chase was deeply engrossed in one of the best fantasy books he had ever read when all of a sudden he heard giggles outside the apartment door. They intensified with the familiar jangle of Dean's keys and fumbling at the doorknob. "Oh, God," he muttered, getting up to let the new arrivals in.
The sheepish grins and red cheeks of his roommate and best friend told him everything he needed to know. "Hi, Chase," Carrie said, beaming vacantly and waving.
"You two are in so much trouble," he muttered, stepping aside for them.
"Trouble?" Dean grabbed at the doorjamb as he tilted dangerously. "But we made it home," he added, in extreme confusion, grinning at Chase.
"I noticed," Chase said dryly. Carrie snickered and ambled past him, flopping heavily on the couch.
Dean followed her in, making an attempt to grab the door and swing it shut and missing entirely. "Need water," he announced. "Care?"
"Me please!"
Chase sighed, shut the door himself, and steered Dean toward the couch. "I'll get it. Sit down before you hurt yourself."
"I'm fine." Dean waved a hand in dismissal, but ambled over to drop next to Carrie and somehow managed not to land on top of her. Still looking much too happy for her own good, Carrie began to pet him. Chase rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen for the water, hoping nothing too life-scarring would happen in his absence.
The giggling that started after his departure made him less than enthusiastic. "Stupid birthdays. Stupid alcohol," he muttered. He got two glasses from the cupboard and filled them from the water pitcher in the fridge.
When he returned, the two were sitting fairly staidly, although Dean's legs had ended up in Carrie's lap. Dean attempted to sit upright, though. "You're the best, Chase," he said happily.
"The very best," Carrie agreed, grinning at Chase as she patted Dean's feet. "The best of the best."
Chase lifted his eyes heavenward, but couldn't help smiling just a little as he handed them each a glass.
"Bestest," Dean added and snickered like he'd just said something completely hilarious.
Carrie started laughing, too. "That's not a word!"
"Is too!" he said, sticking his tongue out at her. She stuck hers out right back.
"Put those away and drink your water," Chase said, folding his arms.
Carrie just smirked at him. "Chase is mad at us," she informed Dean, very matter-of-factly.
"Chase likes to be mad at me. I don't always follow the rules," he said solemnly. "I'm bad."
Deciding not to dignify that with a reply, Chase went back to his beanbag chair and his book, although he was not counting on being able to concentrate with the two miscreants there.
"You're bad to Chase?" Carrie said, and he could just picture her widening her eyes. "Why would you do that?"
"I'm not bad to Chase, I'm..." he paused, and then: "some big word that doesn't like me right now."
"Big words always like me! Let's see." There was a short moment of blessed silence. "Mischievous? Rambunctious? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?"
"How can you do that?" Dean asked, sounding properly impressed. Chase had to wonder the same thing.
"My powers are great," Carrie intoned solemnly, which was true, and explained it well enough.
"They always have been. Happy birthday, Care," Dean said, followed by a loud smooching sound and more giggles from both.
"Okay, settle down, weirdos," Chase said, as loudly as possible, without looking up from his book.
"See, bein' bad," Dean said.
"You're so bad," Carrie agreed. "I think you need a time-out."
"No time-outs," Chase muttered, side-eyeing them.
"Time-out," Dean echoed, nodding sagely. Chase glanced at them again, reminding himself that they were clearly smashed and would not be behaving in such a scandalous manner otherwise. His friend made an attempt to lean closer to Carrie, saying, even more sagely: "Chase is not happy with us."
Carrie shoved his shoulder, laughing. "That's what I said."
Sighing patiently, Chase went back to his book, deciding that the path of least resistance was the better one in this situation. He had heard that the only thing that could really sober a person up was time, and judging by their actions, his friends were going to need a lot of it. Carrie was definitely not making it back to Madison that night, at any rate.
Dean grinned. "Not happy cuz of time-outs," he said, and then yawned.
"You need a nap," Carrie informed him.
He blinked at her, reaching out and petting her. "Wha's time?"
She began to pat her pockets. "Bedtime, I think." Chase slipped a bookmark into his place.
"Pro'ly. Was late when we left the pub." Dean swung his legs off her lap much more awkwardly than his usual ease and attempted to stumble to his feet. Carrie got up also, reaching over to steady him, although she wasn't moving terribly gracefully herself.
Chase collected their glasses and pointed them toward Dean's room. "Go sleep, you morons," he said, trying to sound amused.
Dean took two steps towards his bedroom, snagging Carrie's hand, and then paused, frowning slightly and glancing back at Chase, eyes a bit clearer than before. "Sleep," Chase repeated, lifting his eyebrows and hoping Dean would get the message.
Dean shot him a sloppy salute. "Yes, sir," he said and headed for his room, both of them weaving.
Chase watched them go, shook his head, and made a mental note to email his sister for a hangover remedy before he followed their example and went to bed himself.
***
The next morning, he was up before either of his friends, not that this surprised him in the slightest. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, got out pancake materials, and settled himself at the kitchen table to read and wait for one of them to appear. Dean stumbled out about half an hour later, eyes squinted, and still wearing the same clothes from the night before.
"Good morning," Chase said mildly, without looking up from his book.
He winced, hand going to his head. "Morning," he managed, opening the fridge and staring into it.
Chase couldn't help a slight smirk at seeing the wince. "Hungry?"
Dean poured himself a glass of water. "Uh, don't think so," he said, looking a little green around the gills. Then he squinted more, looking at Chase. "Did you let me break a rule last night?"
"Yep."
"Okay," he said, drawing the word out.
Chase shrugged. "You were both toasted. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it."
"Yeah. Never again," Dean said, sinking into the seat across from him.
"Mmhmm," Chase agreed. He did not dare look at Dean, knowing he was about two seconds away from laughing his butt off.
"If you laugh, please do it quietly."
"Yeah, there's no way. Do you even remember what you two said last night after you got in?"
Dean winced. "I barely remember getting home."
"That's what I thought." Chase felt the corners of his mouth twitching. It wasn't funny, or so he tried to tell himself, but sleep had brought a bit of humor to the situation, as well as the realization that he had blackmail material to last for the next five years.
"We...didn't do anything...embarrassing, did we?"
"I am so not giving you a recap of what you did, are you kidding me?"
Dean stared at him, more than a little worried. Chase could feel his eyes, but still refused to meet them. He took a demure sip of his orange juice instead. "You are horrible," Dean told him, and then very carefully dropped his head onto the table.
"I know. You're lucky I like you."
"I am," Dean agreed, wrapping his arms around his head. "Light's too bright," he added in a mutter.
"It's not even on," Chase replied, highly amused.
"Too bright," he repeated a bit more firmly.
"Sorry, Dean, we don't have blinds in here."
He groaned and attempted to burrow his head further into his arms.
At that moment, Carrie decided to join them, looking much more fresh and alert than Dean. "Morning," she said, shooting a glance at Chase as if to gauge his mood.
He did look up at her, if only briefly, then returned his eyes to his book. "Morning. I don't suppose you’re hungry."
"Haven't decided." She smiled and walked over to Dean. "Hey, you, still kickin'?"
"This is not fair," Dean muttered.
"So I guess we're skipping the drinking contest next time?" she asked, with a sly grin.
"Is that what happened?" Chase asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Yeah. Poor Dean's a lightweight." Carrie gently ran her fingers over Dean's scalp, looking at him with more sympathy than she spoke.
"'m not a lightweight," he said, still without picking up his head. "You're just magical. We had like a dozen shots each. Plus what we'd drank earlier."
Chase stared at her. "Wow, you are magical."
"A dozen? Damn." Carrie continued to stroke Dean's hair. "That must've been enough alcohol to kill a horse. Chase, I hereby humbly apologize and promise that it will never happen again."
"It better not. I don't want to have to take you two to the hospital next time."
"I also wanted it noted it was Carrie's idea," Dean volunteered, voice muffled by his arms.
Carrie raised her eyebrows. "You didn't have to agree."
"It was your birthday. You are my girlfriend. As if I'd do anything else."
A bright smile lit up her face. "I love you too, Deany dear. Want some Advil?"
"Please. How are you this magical?" he asked, finally peeking up at her.
She grinned. "Hell if I know. Chase? Any ideas?"
Chase rolled his eyes and got up to make the pancakes.
Dean sat up enough to sip at his water. Carrie produced a pill bottle and sat down next to him. "You're the bes-" That was as far as Dean got before he winced freshly. "Okay, that just came back."
Chase couldn't help it any longer. He had to put down the container of flour and grip the counter to keep from falling over as he laughed until he cried. Dean dropped his head back down with another groan. "Too loud, Chase."
"I'm sorry," Chase managed, trying to control himself for the sake of Dean's poor head. "It was just...so ridiculous..."
"Bestest," he muttered. "God, my vocabulary obviously tanks spectacularly when drunk."
"I told you it wasn't a word," Carrie said, chuckling. "Should've bet on that one. Man, missed opportunities."
"No betting with drunk people, even when you're drunk."
"Aw, damn."
"They don't hold anyway, even if you remember everything." Dean picked his head up again. "Do you remember everything? Chase wouldn't tell me shit."
"Hey!" Chase mustered up a death glare. "Not cool, even if you are hung over."
"Enough to know that we definitely made idiots of ourselves," Carrie said lightly.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, popping two Advil. "Wonderful. Sorry, Chase."
"It could have been worse," Carrie pointed out. "Alcohol poisoning is always worse."
"True. Guess we were lucky that way. Although I don't really feel lucky."
She kissed his temple. "You're always lucky. Your girlfriend loves you, and your roommate is very patient and wonderful despite being the most ridiculous person on the planet. Right, Chase?"
Chase got his chuckles under control and straightened. "I'm still holding you to that 'never again.'"
"Never again," he agreed fervently. Satisfied, Chase turned back to the counter and began mixing up the pancakes.