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He'll find them eventually, along with assorted other dishes. Not that Gabriel really needs them, but they're good camouflage for the whole 'archangel' thing.

"It's probably a waste of breath that just results in the both of you being pissed off and frustrated," Gabriel agrees. "At least he still has some optimism. Way too many hunters become jaded bastards in fairly short order."

"No kidding. Kid's the only reason I haven't just plain given up sometimes," Dean admits, making his way back into the other room with his arms full of two fresh beers, the bottle of liquor, two shot glasses, and two bigger glasses. "Here. No way I'm gonna drink a Boilermaker alone. That'd be a little sad, even for me."

He clunks the lot onto the coffee table and starts setting them up, not waiting to see if Gabriel was actually going to join him. Hell, the angel had done karaoke with him, how would a Boilermaker be any worse?

"He's in his thirties. I'm pretty sure he's been considered an adult for awhile now," Gabriel points out easily before taking a swig of his drink. Hmm. Getting to be about time for another bottle.

"Know what's actually sad? Eating ice cream alone, in the dark, listening to emo music. Not that I expect you to do it, since you're not an over-emotional teenage girl."

"Nope, still a kid," Dean says firmly. "Speakin' as his older brother, I get to call him a kid until we're both gray of hair and long in tooth. "

He slides a beer glass in from of him then pours two shots of jaeger, holding on out to Gabriel.

"Well, change the emo music to AC/DC or some CCW and you've got me right on. Count of three?"

Gabriel needs to take a moment to stop laughing at the mental image conjured before he accepts the one from Dean. "For the record, given your job, that implies when you're elderly vampires. Or anything else with fangs. Anyway, sure."

"Yeah, yeah, shuttup and drink, smartass," Dean snorts, holding his own shot glass above his beer.

"One...two...three."

Then a splash and clunk noise and Dean's upending the beer into his mouth, chugging the foaming liquid as quickly as he can manage. Boilermakers are disgusting, but an awesome way to get plastered quickly.

Gabriel is able to one up Dean in the speed department by not needing to stop and breathe. He's done a little before Dean is, making a face. His issue isn't the alcohol but the taste. Blech.

Dean doesn't seemed perturbed by the fact that he's been beaten, for once. He merely lets out a (classy) belch when the glass lands back on the table, followed by a satisfied sigh.

"Man, that brings back them college days," he says. "You know. If I'd had them."

He eyes the bottle of Jager and briefly considers simply tipping the contents of it down his throat. But that's right up on the sad list so he dismisses it quickly.

He simply leans back on the couch instead, folding his arms behind his head.

"That hit the spot."

Dean only wishes it was classy.

"I'm pretty sure you would have been that guy that gets kicked out of his classes by the professors for being a pain in their collective ass," he observes as he snaps up a couple more bottles of his own alcohol before finishing the second one finally.

"Hey Kettle, it's me, Pot. Nice to meet you," Dean says with a lazy wave of his hand. He eyes the new bottles of liquor. "Someone's really plannin' on getting wasted, isn't he? Our conversation really drag you down that bad earlier?"

"I'm feeling the buzz. I'm taking that as warning I should probably get all I plan to drink now before I have to worry about powers going screwy." Gabriel is just going to ignore everything else, thank you.

"Good idea. No point tryin' to summon up a drink and windin' up with a bottle of fire instead." Dean snorts, remembering that last disaster.

"Or a couch and floor on fire," he shoots back, giving Dean an ornery grin. Hey, at least since it'll happen in this room, the bedroom should be safe. Just maybe some sounds that's been muffled by the door.

"Yeah, don't do that. I'm not crashin' in a bed with you," Dean groans, and the word 'again' is left unsaid. "And why fire, of all things? Why not some hot ladies in skimpy outfits?"

"Because that would be fun," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Can't have that, apparently."

"Apparently. Must be your karma." Dean shrugs, although he's smirking at him.

Gabriel just calmly leans over to lightly swat Dean upside the head. "There's a bit of karma for you."

Dean flails, although it's a half-heart attempt to push his hand away and not in time to avoid the swat.

"Screw you and your karma, Gabriel," he mutters. "Just don't set crap on fire if you can help it."

Gabriel looks from the bottles waiting for him to get to them to Dean with a raised eyebrow. "I thought that was what me making sure I don't need to use my powers was about."

"You think you can resist usin' them when you're three sheets to the wind?" Dean asks looking back at him with his eyebrow just as raised.

Gabriel gives Dean an innocent look. "How much do you want the answer?"

"I think I know the answer already," Dean deadpans. "S'long as I know my virtue isn't in danger if I stick around you during it."

"I think you're several years too late to be worrying about that," Gabriel points out.

"Dude, you know what I mean, smartass," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "Not gonna get my bones jumped by a horndog, drunk angel."

Gabriel gives Dean a sideways look. "Only if you also express interest."

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