They come in later.

Dean was typing on his computer and looking at his files. His work was good, nothing to complain about. It was just some statistics about sales.

Suddenly, a boom reverberated throughout the house. The turning of a knob and the clatter of metal, before evolving to a thick thud and loud chatter. The sober Dean looked up with a stoic expression and saw Brooke and Richard close the door with their backs, connected together with an arm around their necks. Their faces were bright and cheeky, obviously drunk though Dean has never seen Richard look like that.

Richard seemed happier and less pale. When was the last time Dean saw him drunk? Richard's legs were wobbly, so he had his non-supporting arm move to rest dangerously on Brooke's ribcage. His eyes were on her, glinting, with a wide smile that showcased his crooked teeth. Did he take a shower? Wait, his pants...

"Stop it Rich," Brooke exclaimed, her voice high and slurred. She giggled and pushed him away, causing Richard to reveal that he had his body pressed against Brooke's leg throughout the entirety of the time they had walked in together. Dean glared at them, his eyes fixating on the bulge Richard had to show for.

Was Richard a gun owner? Maybe he had a weapon in his pocket; that indent in his pant-leg looked similar to a baseball bat's tip, girth-wise. It wasn't unlikely that he would pack a knife or something like that at the club.

Amusing. Jokes aside, Dean cleared his throat and stood up to meet them. He smiled and opened his arms, "Brooke, baby! And there's Richard, my boy!"

Brooke and Richard gasped with wide eyes and tried to separate away from each other for a second before noticing Dean's invitation to a hug. Richard remained quiet and kept his distance.

"Oh, Dean," Brooke breathed out deeply, lurching forward to hug Dean. He reciprocated by squeezing her back. She was nuzzling him and petting his chest, and her dainty body reeked of ****.

"Hey love, I missed you," Dean whispered in her ear, petting her hair. He looked up at Richard and raised his eyebrows, "so, where did you come from Richard? I didn't know you drank out."

Richard wasn't looking at him back. Keeping his head down, he observed the ground. Dean towered over him and had eyes, round and wide. He didn't like Dean's eyes, or his face at that moment because it was as if he could see right through him.

"I was just..." Richard murmured, his gaze still averted.

Brooke offered a nervous laugh. "Don't be afraid hun, just tell Dean where we went." She stepped back, resting her hand on his cheek, and looked over Dean's face and body. She look up to smile at Dean's eyes, flashing a drunken smile but he seemed stoic to Brooke's quelling gesture.

"We were at the Black Canary," Richard whispered. "Brooke was trying to hit me up with a woman, and maybe try to find a job as a cashier in one of the stores nearby. I had a couple of interviews..."

"Rich just needs more practice is all. He was so nervous, so he might need to apply to a different section of the city." Brooke droned. She groaned and cupped her head. "I'm sorry baby, my head is hurting right now. I drank too much and I need to be up early tomorrow."

Dean gave a laugh, though his face looked gravely insulted. "I understand baby. But why the hell did you even drink anything? **** during an interview spree?"

Brooke raised a finger, trying to place it on Dean's lips, but she was swaying in the invisible wind and kept missing. "Baby, you weren't there. Rich was sooo nervous and couldn't function. I didn't know we'd drink so much because he just couldn't relax after the fourth bottle. I mean, cup."

"So." Dean paused. His heart shuddered and his stomach tingled. He glanced at Richard, who had looked up at them like a guilty puppy before seeing Dean's gaze, staring back down to the floor and shuddering like a traumatized chihuahua. Dean looked back at Brooke and patted her shoulder, looking her square in the eyes.

"So... did you suck anything or what?" Dean asked, in a serious manner. He observed Brooke's face closely and glanced back at Richard to gauge their reactions.

Brooke smiled, "of course I did baby. Don't worry, I won't do it again without talking to you about it, but I did it." She winked and giggled, petting Dean's chest again with her fingertips.

Richard had given Dean a pair of round orbs, a shocked expression, before jolting back to the ground and crossing his arms before he could see Dean's eyes. He began to tap his shiny shoe against the tile, beating against the wood rapidly.

"...Oh baby," Brooke said in a baby-talk voice, winning Dean's attention. Her eyes were gleaming and her lips were wide. "Baby baby baby, Dean hunny..." She giggled, before resting her head on Dean's chest.

"...Hey Richard," Brooke said, unmoving, leaning against her support. "Give me some privacy, I need to talk to my boyfriend okay? We'll talk later..."

No one said anything and the three adults were still for a few moments. Dean administered a look to Richard, who oddly looked back before slowly stepping out of the entrance, towards the staircase down the hallway like a long blade of grass in a wind. Dean wondered if Richard would trip over his feet.

"Did you buy Richard new clothes?" Dean asked, accidentally accusatory.

"No baby... He had something in his closet. He never wore it, because he told me he never needed to." Brooke whispered. She looked up. "Okay Dean, I'm tired, but I can talk with you today. Let's sit down, come on..."

Dean cussed, watching her drunk body almost kiss the ground like within an earthquake. "Brooke... Look, I'm happy that you did this for me," he started, walking to their gray loveseat. "I couldn't have asked a better woman to experiment with. I'm not jealous, I just got... confused..."

"I'm so drunk," Brooke whispered. She groaned, leaning on Dean's leg. "I took some pictures and videos of my blowjob baby. I'll send it to you in the morning... Hold on, I have a headache..."

"Damn, what did you drink?" Dean asked, getting up. "Hold on, are you hungry? Let me make you something to fix you up."

"Daaaamn..." Brooke hiccupped and laid on the sofa, squeezing her eyes. She begins to mutter indiscernible mutterings.

Dean looked at his watch and shook his head. "This wasn't normal..." His sentence drifted off. He didn't want to insult Brooke, but this wasn't normal of her. But then again, he wasn't acting normal of himself either. Just let her be, and let the jealousy within him die.

Dean filled a glass up with water and put some bread in the toaster. He took a carton of eggs out from the fridge, letting it rest on the counter, before bringing the glass to Brooke's sofa. "Come on, sit up my love. Drink this for a while." He said, forcing the groggy woman to sit up.

"I'm... not really hungry baby..." Brooke slurred, sipping her water.

Dean leaned in to her ear. "I don't care. You need some breakfast right now," he whispered.

"Thankth," she murmured.

Dean logged out of his computer and filed his forms in the correct folder. Glancing at his watch to 3:37 AM, he leaned at his bright study in introspective silence. The blinds of his window offered black mystery of the sky outside, void of sunlight. He contemplates whether or not he could drink some coffee in the morning. With a sudden cold shudder, he flicked off the lights.

He had **** Brooke to eat, and she had immediately passed out on their dining table. She was light, so it wasn't any trouble to tuck her in. But Dean began to regret the whole ordeal today— er, yesterday. He's going to feel really awful waking up in the morning.

Though Dean began to wonder whether Brooke would be able to work once she gets up. In fact, did she do anything productive after the incident with Richard? Or rather, it was more accurate to say that there was an incident with Richard's dick— and only just with his dick.

"I guess I'll just take a nap and have an easy day at work." Dean said, trying to convince himself. "Yeah, it's going to be swell tomorrow."

Guiding himself in the dark entrails of his house, Dean walked up the staircase. Dean was silent when passing Richard's door, who was also silent back. To his left was his bedroom door, which was firmly closed and dark inside.

Dean slowly turned the doorknob and stealthily closed the door firmly behind him. The ceiling fan gave the room a pleasant rush of wind. Smiling, he took off button after button of his work shirt and began to unbuckle his pants. Throwing his sweaty undershirt to the basket in the closet, he changed to something more soothing.

After brushing his teeth in their private bathroom, Dean snuck in their bed. He smiled, smelling Brooke's body of ****, perfume and a hint of sweat. He nuzzled closer to her, resting an arm on her stomach. Brooke groaned silently. She was hot, like the fever. But Dean could bathe in her scent for a while longer past ****.