"Here," he tossed the keys to her and laughed a little. "I don't even know what key locks and really? I don't give a fuck. This place can burn down for all I care," he said through hooded eyes. He was blitzed out drunk and he didn't know which was up and which way was down. He hadn't been like this in a long while. Holding onto the wall, he steadied himself before reaching over to grab the remote, stumbling again, he held onto the bar while he hit a bunch of buttons, but eventually the music turned off.
"Let's blow," He muttered and headed for the door. Holding to her shoulder, he walked out onto the sidewalk and felt the cool wind on his face. Shaking his head, he turned and watched her while she locked up.
Pulling out his ID card, he handed it to her.
"Get me there."
What felt like an eternity, but only was about ten minutes, Dean stumbled inside of his small, but comfortable new apartment. Holding onto Emily, she led the way to his bedroom and once he saw the bed, he plopped down on it.
"Emily ..." he whispered, and leaned against her when she sat down on the bed next to him. Watching her, he turned his head, but fell over when she leaned down to take off his boots. "Damnit." Pushing himself back up, she finally helped him up and he sat there and just looked at her while she unbuttoned his shirt, but closed his eyes. His eyelids were so heavy. Falling over again, he leaned against her until finally, she pushed him back and he laid on his back above the blankets.
"Emily," he whispered again and she moved over toward him. Reaching out, he pulled her toward him a little and he turned his head in her direction.
"This never happened... I ... didn't do this, okay? I don't ... want her knowing anything."