When Dean wound up drunkenly passing out in front of his laptop at the kitchen table, FDR had taken the time to lay him down properly in the booth, (Yes, he totally had a built in kitchen table nook in his house complete with an L shaped booth, it's a swanky fucking bachelor pad), tuck a pillow under his head and toss a blanket over him. For someone who spent his whole damn life fighting things that went bump in the night, he was way too heavy of a sleeper for his own good.

Then he spent the rest of the night keeping one eye on Baby and the rest focused on his latest game of GTA.

Which he was still dazedly playing when Baby shuffled behind him, and he turned to watch him roll right off the couch in a tangle of blankets.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he paused the game and moved over to Baby where he held out a hand for him. "Dean's sleeping. And if you care about him, you'll let him."