Cups were for people who were pretending that they weren't planning on getting as shitfaced as possible as quick as they could. Johnny wasn't going to bother with cups right now. He found a seat and unscrewed the cap of one bottle after setting the others down on the floor by his chair.
But he paused before the bottle even made it to his lips. Wonderful images flooding his mind of Dean Winchester as a seamstress. He didn't think that in reality the guys had been made to wear dresses and aprons and all of that. In his mental pictures they did, though. He was imagining Dean in a frilly pink frock, holding a threaded needle up to the hem of a creation hanging from a sewing dummy.
Oh, it was a wonderful thing.
Johnny smiled at his head picture and then had a long swallow of the whiskey. It burned, as if he hadn't had a drink in a really long time. Which, he supposed, was the truth of it.
"Sorry I missed that one. I wonder what I would have been. What were you?"