7x18 Comment-fic Meme

[glovered]

Hello! lazy_daze and I have decided that the time for comment-fic is now. In this past episode, Sam and Dean get shwasted Dean says, "I miss these talks." However, we do not see said talk on-screen.

AND THUS, THE INCEPTION OF:

Pimp: <a href="http://glovered.livejournal.com/69377.html"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/PU5jY.jpg" border="0"></a> RULES: (you know how this works) 1. Be Nice To Each Other. 2. Prompts should in some way have to do with Sam and Dean drinking together, things covered in this scene, or things they haven't talked about in a while or something? I don't care too much, tbh. 3. Use any and all characters you want! (RPF welcome so long as it pertains to this scene) 4. Art is also welcome, of course. 5. Prompt with abandon and fill things, too!

Fills
Sam forgets how his inhibitions are lowered and really does tell Dean everything Hallucifer used to say, including the lewd comments about Dean. by runedgirl

Sam usually would never agree to let Dean fuck him in a back alley behind a bar but hey, he's drunk and so is Dean and it seems like a really good idea right now. by juice817

This kind of sloppy, wet making out is really good. And, it turns out, Sam is a mouthy, filthy little fucker when he's horny and wasted. by lazy_daze

Sam, Dean, and some drunk baking. I would imagine a lot more of the food would end up on the floor rather than in the oven, though. (first fill) by bertee

Sam, Dean, and some drunk baking. I would imagine a lot more of the food would end up on the floor rather than in the oven, though. (second fill) by glovered

There are a number of reasons they mututally agreed that getting drunk together was a bad idea. But Sam had sort of forgotten the exact kind of bad idea it was until the words 'body shots' came up. by runedgirl

The problem is, when Dean gets drunk he thinks all Sam's ideas are smart. Even when they're really, really not. by de_nugis

"My lips feel numb, Dean. Are your lips numb? Mine are really numb." by afattribble

Sam's big brother knows everything there is to know about anything. Also, he's always right. Also, all his ideas are flawless and need implementing. Immediately. by orbiting_saturn

Sam drunkenly decides it's time to confess that he dug Dean's amulet out of the trash can two years ago after Dean rashly discarded it. by verucasalt123

Sam is an affectionate, grabby, earnest drunk, all big dreams and world peace and "I just...I feel like everyone should just get along, Dean, y'know?" by tiptoe39

Dean goes on a tangent about Castiel's mouth. ...Dean slurs a bit and says something along the lines of "Christ, those fucking lips." by bertee

Filming scenes like this is a real hardship. (rpf?) by novella34

Sam gets climby when he's drunk, and Dean mostly follows him around in a grumpy stumble to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. by akadougal

Dean decides baby bro is old enough to have a beer. He didn't know it would hit him so hard. by obstinatrix

Dean decides to refill his flask with that awesome, and really expensive-looking, booze. He leaves the flask out, forcing ghost!Bobby to witness whatever shenanigans ensue. by salacious_newt

Sam gets all handsy and affectionate when he's drunk. Dean's too drunk to remember why he's not supposed to enjoy that. by lavishsqualor

Sam gets REALLY horny when drunk. It's a problem. by orbiting_saturn

Well isn't this just the prettiest mental picture that ever was! by glovered

drunk!Sam obsesses about Dean's freckles. Dean will have none of it, thank you, his freckles are not cute or pretty or precious, they are rugged and manly. (fill one!) by glovered

drunk!Sam obsesses about Dean's freckles. Dean will have none of it, thank you, his freckles are not cute or pretty or precious, they are rugged and manly. (fill two!) by oddishly

Tell me if I miss any, and have a good day!

Comments

[lazy-daze.livejournal.com]

Sam gets REALLY horny when drunk. It's a problem.

[orbiting-saturn.livejournal.com]

Filled: I Got Your Solution (http://orbiting-saturn.livejournal.com/36674.html)

I went ahead and just posted it over at my journal. This one got even longer than the last one. :-/

[lazy-daze.livejournal.com]

Sam, giddy on the relief that comes in getting drunk without exacerbating Hallucifer, tells Dean in great detail the sort of stuff Lucifer used to like to taunt him with and how happy Sam is to not have to deal with it any more. Problem is, first time being drunk after a long time, Sam forgets how his inhibitions are lowered and really does tell Dean everything Hallucifer used to say, including the lewd comments about Dean.

[glovered.livejournal.com]

Oh my god, yes, ahahahaha.

[glovered.livejournal.com]

Dean has always enjoyed talking about cars. Sam only does when he's drunk.

[lazy-daze.livejournal.com]

Sam and Dean waved to the camera adorably before they started drinking. What did they do with the camera once drunk?

[glovered.livejournal.com]

Sam gets very poetic drunk. He never drinks in public any more because he ends up sonneting or worse, limericks, usually on the topic of Dean. It's somewhat embarrassing. Dean likes it.

[glovered.livejournal.com]

Filming scenes like this is a real hardship. (rpf?)

[novella34.livejournal.com]

Drink, Drank, Drunk (1/2)

So maybe switching out the decorative bottles of amber colored mineral water with real booze had been a mistake. Maybe replacing just Jensen's bottle would have been a better idea than all five of the prop bottles that had been set out for them. But whatever. The surprised, bug-eyed grimace on Jensen's face when he took that first searing gulp of Scotch had totally been worth it and Jared patted himself on the back for managing to keep his best Sam-face firmly in place. But six takes and four near empty bottles later, the awesomeness of pulling one over on his best friend was wearing off as they struggled to remember their lines and pretend to be sober while acting drunk. Or maybe it was the other way around... Whatever it was they were doing, Jared was exhausted and he kinda wished he'd let someone else on set in on his epic plan so he had someone to laugh at Jensen with.

"Sammy...?" Jensen slurred, waving his fingers in front of Jared's face. "You in there, man?"

Jared's eyes snapped up at Jensen's face and Jensen gave him a lopsided smile. Jared grinned back. "What?"

"Cut!"

Jared and Jensen both looked over at Bob.

Bob did not look happy.

"You guys alright?" His voice had that controlled annoyed pitch to it that he got when he was restraining himself from tearing into them. "'Cause you didn't get a single line from the script in this time."

Jared smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Bob," he started. "We, uh--"

"We were tryin' to get some shit for the gag reel!" Jensen yelled, interrupting Jared's confession. His words were clipped, voice tight and much louder than necessary, and Jared snorted a laugh at how drunk he sounded.

Drunk, but apparently still able to think on his toes! Sometimes Jensen was a friggin' genius.

"Yeah!" Jared called. "Sorry, we're just, ya know, uhh... fuckin' around."

"Oh, for chrissake," Bob muttered, rolling his eyes. "Can we try for just ONE good take before you two go out of your way to make yourselves look like complete idiots?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry man, no problem..." Jensen waved at him as he and Jared took their places behind the desk. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you," he whispered without looking at Jared. Jared swallowed a giggle and ignored him. Jensen was a little wobbly on his feet and Jared was grateful that the scene called for him to stay on his ass throughout.

"Scene 9, take 7. Action!"

"Drink up, Sammy," Jensen slurred, pouring himself yet another glass of Scotch and drank it as fast as he could, bending at the knees like that would help it go down easier.

"Can you even get drunk anymore?" Jared asked, hoping he was on the right line. He knew that one was at least somewhere in this scene. He took a big gulp of whiskey and tried not to visibly gag on the sickly sweet liquor.

Jensen leaned over, resting his hand on Jared's shoulder as he looked intently at the computer screen in front of him. His face was close to Jared's, a lot closer than he should be and Jared could smell the liquor on his breath when he exhaled his next line. Jared didn't hear whatever it was he said, though. He was too distracted by Jensen's fingers sliding across his neck and twisting into the long hairs at the nape. He gave a small tug and murmured, "Are you ever gonna cut this shit? You're startin' to look like a girl."

"A'least I'm a pretty girl," Jared slurred back, looking up into Jensen's glassy green eyes as a shiver crawled up his spine. "Like you should talk!" he scoffed. "You got, like, the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. On anyone!" He laughed loudly right into Jensen's face. "So you're the girl. Girl." He took another drink and smiled innocently back up at his friend.

"Yeah, well..." Jensen trailed off, his eyes going dark.

[expectative.livejournal.com]

Sam and Dean, drunk out of their asses, go skinny dipping.

[checkthemargins.livejournal.com]

Dean knows they're both really drunk (and he hasn't seen Sammy drunk in years), and he knows that this is probably a little weird, but this kind of sloppy, wet making out is really good. And, it turns out, Sam is a mouthy, filthy little fucker when he's horny and wasted.

[obstinatrix.livejournal.com]

gads;gsdgnsh omg just the PROMPT.

[expectative.livejournal.com]

Sam usually would never agree to let Dean fuck him in a back alley behind a bar but hey, he's drunk and so is Dean and it seems like a really good idea right now.

It Sounded Like A Good Idea At The Time, pt 1

[juice817.livejournal.com]

"Wait, wait." Sam pushed Dean away so he could talk, because his voice was muffled with his lips smushed up against Dean's. Dean leaned in again, pushing against Sam's hand on his chest, lips pursed ridiculously. Sam snickered.

"What?" Dean finally whined.

Sam looked away from Dean's lips in confusion. "What, what?"

"You said wait. You made me stop. Stop making me stop." Dean shook his head and then blinked. "Whoa."

"Oh." Sam thought carefully, smiling widely when he remembered what. "Why did we come to a bar, Dean? We were already drunk. I was already drunk."

Dean grinned. "Celebrate, Sammy! We stabbed the bitch thing and saved people again. And hunted things. We deserve to celebrate. Besides, I wasn't drunk yet."

"Oh," Sam said again. "Okay."

"So can I kiss you now? Wanna suck on your tongue again."

Sam moaned and moved his hand from Dean's chest to his shoulder as he leaned in again. "Maybe I want to suck on your tongue instead."

"I'm older."

"You're bossy."

Dean didn't deny it, just leaned in and proved it, sucking on Sam's lips and tongue, a rough, possessive kiss that made Sam's head spin even more than the alcohol did. All Sam could do was hold on, grab Dean's face and pull him closer.

Sam didn't know how long they made out, sitting in the shadows at one end of the bar. It was wet and messy, dirty and so fucking good. Sam was so hard it was painful, dick trapped in his jeans, and only vaguely recognized the needy sounds he heard as his own.

They were interrupted by a tap on Sam's shoulder. He ignored it until the hand started to tug and a voice filtered through the white noise in his head. "Hey!"

"What?" Sam turned his head toward the voice and glared. Dean kept kissing Sam, lips moving along his jaw and down his throat. He felt his eyes cross when Dean sank his teeth into the curve of neck and shoulder.

"Take it outside, buddy." The bartender was smirking. He wasn't mad. That was probably good. "You're getting a little loud. And obscene."

Sam blinked and looked past the bartender, finally noticing the other patrons, some of which were openly staring. "Oh. Sure."

"Thanks." The bartender patted his shoulder and turned, making his way back down the bar.

[ordinaryink.livejournal.com]

Sam, Dean, and some drunk baking. I would imagine a lot more of the food would end up on the floor rather than in the oven, though.

[bertee.livejournal.com]

The first warning sign, Sam realized in retrospect, was that Dean sounded like he was talking about his dick.

"Oh, yeah, right in there. That's it. Gonna fill you the whole way up, baby."

Wary of walking in on Dean having sex, Sam promptly put a hand over his eyes and edged towards the sound of Dean's voice. "Dean? This a bad time?"

"Sammy!"

Dean sounded pleased to see him, which indicated either he wasn't having sex or he was having sex with someone who didn't mind a little incest in their threesome. It could go either way with Dean.

Deciding to risk it, Sam peeked through his fingers and then dropped his hand down to the side in confusion when the only person in sight was Dean. In the kitchen. In an apron.

In the deep, now Lucifer-free recesses of Sam's mind, he vaguely remembered Dean wearing that same apron when they were teenagers and he had developed a surprising interest in home ec classes. Like everything else they owned, it was plaid, thick criss-crossing stripes of blue and yellow, and before he could stop himself, Sam was moving forward to touch the neck of it. "You kept this?"

Dean batted his hands away and hooked his fingers proudly in the apron straps. "Of course I kept it. How'm I supposed to make pie without an apron?" He patted Sam on the chest. "A man's gotta have his tools, Sammy."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You're making pie?" He looked over to the countertop where a pastry-lined pie tin was flanked by a bowl of cherry mix and a cluster of empty beer bottles. "You're making beer pie?"

Dean shook his head, wobbling a little as he did so. "Beer's for me." He jiggled the bowl of cherries. "These are for her."

Sam pursed his lips. "Dean, please tell me you aren't making a pie so you can try to have sex with it. Because if that's on the cards, I want to be somewhere that is not here."

"Nope," Dean said cheerfully, apparently unfazed by accusations of piefucking. "I'm gonna eat her and have sex with you." He held out a half-drunk glass of whiskey. "Maybe even at the same time."

Accepting the glass, Sam shrugged. He'd heard worse plans.

It was two glasses of whiskey and half a beer later that he found himself sitting on the countertop and finally asking, "So what brought on the sudden pie-making renaissance?"

Dean promptly put the whiskey bottle to Sam's lips and tipped it to make him take a shot. It burned on the way down, warm and soothing, and Sam coughed as Dean said, "You ain't had enough to drink if you're still using words like 'renaissance'."

This was accompanied by a tipsy wiggle of his hips, which was probably supposed to be mocking but which Sam found weirdly arousing. Incest and aprons were a winning combination.

"Why are you making pies?" he simplified.

"Because the gas works," Dean said, stirring the cherries with a beer bottle while he tried to drink a spoon. Realizing his mistake, he switched the two around and continued, "And because there aren't at least eight kinds of mould in this kitchen. And because I want pie."

By Winchester standards, that logic was flawless. Sam didn't bother arguing.

[expectative.livejournal.com]

Dean eats pie right off Sam's naked body.

[prettyshiny.livejournal.com]

Web cams lead to nothing but trouble.

Sam leaves his laptop in the room and comes back to Dean recording his own version of My Drunk Kitchen in the kitchenette. Up to you if Dean actually went to a grocery store or just raided the gas station on the corner.

[yohkobennington.livejournal.com]

Oh my god, I did not just pictured this.

(http://s803.photobucket.com/albums/yy320/YB87/?action=view&current=tumblr_m0q8fpFJza1qf7lqso4_r1_250.gif)

[shinywhimsy.livejournal.com]

dean had forgotten how easy (and flexible) sam is when he's drunk. sam never believed him before. now he's got the cams/laptop recording it so sam won't be able to deny it later. there should be body shots at some point, up to you whose idea it is and who licks whom where :>

[de-nugis.livejournal.com]

Sam gets really argumentative when he's drunk. Not aggressively, just persistently and on strange topics. He keeps grabbing Dean's body parts for emphasis, which makes it harder for Dean to follow and counter his weird drunk!Sam logic.

[checkthemargins.livejournal.com]

Sam is an affectionate, grabby, earnest drunk, all big dreams and world peace and "I just...I feel like everyone should just get along, Dean, y'know?", all big round eyes and pushed-out bottom lip and hands obsessively pulling really lightly at Dean's hair and t-shirt and belt loops.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

All Wrong (1/2)

“Cure cancer, Dean. They said they were gonna cure.... cure cancer.”

Dean squints.

“I mean, what if we've got them all wrong?” Sam says. He's got a hand on the desk, ridiculously close to where Dean's hip is, and it twitches like it's about to make a leap. “What if they just wanna... wanna help?”

“Hell of a body count for guys who want to help.” Dean snorts at the concept.

“We have a hell of a body count, too.”

“We kill monsters.” Dean scowls. “Monsters that deserve it.”

“We all deserve it.” Sam's pout is ridiculous, his lower lip sticking out a full inch, and Dean's salivating for no good reason. “I mean, imagine if we just stopped. Stopped killing. And then they stopped killing. And then we could all just... just...”

“What? We all just sit by the campfire, sing kumbaya? Hand in hand in... tentacle thing?”

Sam looks at him silently. At least he’s stopped stuttering, Dean thinks. Damn stutter when he’s drunk, drives Dean nuts. But his lower lip is still way out there, big eyes full of ideas and if Dean’s really quiet he thinks he can hear Sam’s brain whirling with a thousand more of ‘em.

“Come sit with me, Dean,” Sam says. His hand makes the jump to Dean’s hipbone and yanks in, and oh hey looks like sit with means sit on because abruptly Dean’s riding sidesaddle on Sam’s lap, Sam’s hands low around his waist like a seatbelt. Sam leans in, rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder so his breath is buffeting against Dean’s neck. Giving him goosebumps with every freaking exhale.

“You ever think maybe...” (“No, I never do,” Dean says curtly, trying to shut him up, but he plows ahead) “...maybe we have the whole thing all wrong? Like, everyone else in the world just lives, they never think about killing things, hunting monsters. What if we just stopped? What if we settled down, opened, you know, a hardware store or something, just lived?”

Dean turns his head, tries to shut him down with a frown.

“”What?” Sam says after Dean’s answer doesn’t come.

“I’m not even gonna say it.”

“Fine, don’t talk then.” And Sam’s hands are crawling up his back like a pair of spiders, and if they weren’t so warm they’d creep Dean out. A half-smile plays at the side of Sam’s mouth. “What if it were you and me,” he goes on, half-dreamily, “just living, just being...”

“If you say being normal, so help me--”

“Together,” Sam says, and the dreaminess has cleared into a sudden, focused look, the smile gone. “I was gonna say being together.”

He doesn’t stutter at that.

[de-nugis.livejournal.com]

When Dean is drunk he wants to be Buffy. Or Batman. Or, like, Aragorn or something. He'll just improvise a sword or a stake or a gadget and he'll show Sam his incredibly cool Buffy-Batman-Aragorn moves, y'know?

Sam is an oddly appreciative audience when he's smashed.

[jacyevans.livejournal.com]

Oh my God, this is ten kinds of adorable and hilarious XD

[deirdre-c.livejournal.com]

RPF: Jared's tense about playing drunk, so Jensen tries to loosen him up by slipping him some booze before the scene. This backfires.

[spnshannanigans.livejournal.com]

Somebody, please write this!!!

[deirdre-c.livejournal.com]

Two words: whiskey dick

[cherie-morte.livejournal.com]

Wow, I could really go for some of that right now.

[deirdre-c.livejournal.com]

"My lips feel numb, Dean. Are your lips numb? Mine are really numb."

[afattribble.livejournal.com]

1/2

"My lips feel numb, Dean."

"Yeah. I heard you the first time, Sammy."

"No, yes, okay, but like... I can't feel my lips. It's... weird." Even talking was weird. Well, duh, one needed one's lips to talk and Sam's lips felt suuuuper weird. And numb. This was probably because he was drunk? But then again, Dean was drunk too, and his lips looked... not numb. His lips looked totally awesome.

"Are your lips numb? Mine are really numb."

He'd said the word 'numb' too many times. It sounded funny.

Sam smiled happily. "Numb," he said again, just 'cause. Dean snorted.

"M'lips are fine."

"Hmmm, yes. They are fine."

Wow, so that sounded pervy. Sam frowned. "Sorry."

"The hell r'you aploginizat--wait. Why you sayin' sorry for?"

"Er..." he couldn't really remember. Oops. "I don't know."

He scooted forward in the bed so that his knees slid against Dean's, the two mattresses separated only by a small rickety table and also, Sam knew his legs were longer than the average giraffe's. Moose's. Crowley had called him a moose that one time. Then again moose had shorter legs than giraffes, right? What was the plural of moose? Moosi? Mooses? Meese?

"Sam?"

Dean's lips were closer to his now. Sam's mouth tingled a little. "Ha!" he said, delighted. "Feel less numb! I win!"

"Yeah, you tell 'em cowboy."

When Dean spoke his mouth moved. It looked sooo pretty. Sam's lips were definitely not numb anymore, but they were also kind of... hungry?

He tipped forward and landed a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder and another on his brother's thigh. "Dean!"

"Dude, s'not my fault your balance is shit."

"Well, duh." Man, Dean was lucky he had his looks. He was so dumb sometimes. Numb dumb rum. Although technically they'd drunk vodka, and beer, and a couple of shots of tequila. No rum. "I did that on purpose, Dean."

"Why?"

When Dean shifted his knee brushed the inside of Sam's thigh and a sparkly electric zing shot through Sam. Why had he done that? His hand was still on Dean's leg.

"Lips," he mumbled, brain sticky and slow and confused. And then he leaned in and touched them with his finger. "Feel that?"

Dean's eyes had gone wide and kind of glassy. "Huh?"

"Feel me, Dean?" Sam was whispering and he wasn't really sure why.

[de-nugis.livejournal.com]

Sam and Dean argue drunkenly about who is going to top.

[bewaretheides15.livejournal.com]

There are a number of reasons they mututally agreed that getting drunk together was a bad idea, not the least of which being that Sam and Dean are kind of, you know, not so awesome at remember things like physical boundaries and personal space when they're stone cold sober. But Sam had sort of forgotten the exact kind of bad idea it was until the words 'body shots' came up. Now he just keeps forgetting what it was about this idea that was bad.

*shut up, I have a kink, it's not my fault.

[runedgirl.livejournal.com]

Dean waggles an eyebrow suggestively, tequila in one hand and a juicy lime in the other. The brewery office is well stocked – lemon and lime wedges in the mini fridge and even a shaker of salt next to the bar.

“Yeah, so?” Sam demands. He gets a little impatient when he drinks. “Stop waving it around and gimme some.”

Dean grins and shakes his head, looking far too pleased with himself. It’s his I’m-up-to-no-good grin. Sam’s seen it a million times, and it always turns out – well, no good.

“You want it, Sammy? You’re gonna have to come ‘n get it.”

“What? Seriously Dean, what the hell?” His brother is an idiot. And a jerk.

Dean puts the tequila and limes on the desk behind him and takes off his jacket, tossing it across the room. His overshirt follows, but he takes that off more slowly, shrugging out of it one arm at a time and letting it slide down his arms deliberately.

Sam gapes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dean just grins wider, tugging his tee shirt from his jeans and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. He slides his own hands down his bare chest, looking pleased with himself.

“Asshole,” Sam says, because Dean’s head is too big for his own good anyway. It’s not like Sam doesn’t know how good looking his brother is, for chrissakes. He looks far too often as it is. Dean does too though, so Sam doesn’t feel too bad.

Dean’s fingers are still nimble even drunk as he works his belt buckle open and pops the snap on his jeans. Sam’s eyes widen, and he feels his dick swell, dammit. This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. “Deannnnn,” he complains, but he doesn’t look away.

Dean draws the zipper down slowly, peels his jeans down over his hips and kicks out of his boots. Sam watches the bow of his back as he bends to pull them off, the curve of his ass in tight black boxer briefs. They’ve helped each other out a few times, handjobs after hunts or when one of them couldn’t sleep or whatever, but this? This is different. This is deliberate. This is a BAD IDEA.

When he sees the way Sam’s looking at him, Dean laughs and shoves the tequila at Sam. He clears the desk top with a drunken swipe of his hand, pens and papers and shit clattering to the floor, and then he climbs right on and lays himself out like a goddamn banquet. “Body shots, c’mon Sammy,” he goads, and his eyes are glittering with mischief, his smile crooked and silly.

“You are such a dick,” Sam answers, shaking his head, but he’s already standing over his brother, staring down at the rippled abs and the trail of dark hair beneath Dean’s navel.

“G’head,” Dean encourages, cocking an eyebrow. “Or are you too chicken?”

[bewaretheides15.livejournal.com]

Alcohol and sibling rivalry are a dangerous combination. And Sam and Dean's version of the "Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better" game has always been a little, uh, unique anyway.

[checkthemargins.livejournal.com]

It was supposed to be a gag. It's the last scene they're filming for the day and they're already ahead of schedule, so when Jared and Jensen come up with the cunning plan to show up to film it a little buzzed, they figure it'll get them a laugh. They weren't expecting Phil's eyes to light up like a kid at Christmas and him to say, "You two are geniuses. It'll be so realistic."

[checkthemargins.livejournal.com]

Sam gets climby when he's drunk, like the alcohol induces some desperate need to get to the top of the fucking world in him. He climbs onto chairs, onto desks, up trees, ladders, fire escapes, all over the Impala to sprawl over its roof. It's annoying and obnoxious and dangerous, because Sam is a goddamn giant and Dean mostly follows him around in a grumpy stumble to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Besides, if he waits it out long enough, Sam starts climbing him, too, and Dean's more than willing to be a jungle gym if it gets his little brother all wrapped around him like he should be.

Tall As Houses

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Warning for profanity.


At least it's not a tree this time.

Dean huffed to himself as he clambered up the final set of steps leading to the top of the water tower. His fucking idiot of a brother had his ridiculous long legs dangling off the platform and his arms leaning all too casually on the railing. There was a mostly empty bottle of whisky in one hand and Dean knew it wasn’t the first. Sam let out a low “Hey” as Dean carefully sat beside him, leaning back against the tank at the top of the tower.

It was pretty up here. Not like in that fucking tree that had been in the middle of a forest and determined to poke him in the eye with every twig, leaf and insect available. Sam should not get drunk near tall objects. Wait a minute. Dean, himself, was probably fairly drunk which is good because he wouldn’t be climbing up water towers at night unless it was a) a hunt or b) he was drunk. Or c) Sam was up there, he supposed.

He still took a drink when Sam offered him the bottle.

“D’you remember the time I climbed that pylon?” Sam slurred, taking a good couple of tries to retrieve the bottle when Dean’s finished.

“Yup.” That one hadn’t been fun. Most of the time Sam climbed things like fire escapes and roofs. And trees. Couldn’t forget the trees. “It was party time, right enough.”

“I like…” Sam seemed to run out of words and took another drink. He was still co-ordinated enough to get the bottle to his mouth smoothly. That led to Dean eyeing the stairway to the ground. It was rickety. Dilapidated. Neglected. In need of work. Fucking falling apart.

“How the fuck do you find these places, Sam?” Since Dean had been hauling his baby brother down from things since he could basically walk, Dean guessed it was something genetic. Maybe his brother was part squirrel. That would explain the hair. Maybe. “Or do you just like things bigger than you?”

It was fucking rhetorical, all right. No reason for Sam to roll his eyes and let out a reproachful, “Deaaaaaaan.”

“I meant-“ Dean bit his lip against the laugh that was threatening to spill out. It came anyway as an undignified snort. “C’mon, you fucking spider monkey.”

“I knew it!” Sam was triumphant even as he followed Dean to his feet. “I knew you’d watched Twilight.”

“Did not. Just saw the trailers. Who could escape them?” Dean made sure Sam’s feet were planted firmly on the start of the steps before he started down. Backwards. Just in case. It wouldn’t do for Sam to get hurt. For hunting reasons.

“Four years ago, dickwad.” Sam was entirely too proud of this, flailing his hand free. Dean held onto his ankles until his body was more or less against the steps again and not in mid-air. It was with a sense of relief that he stumbled against the ground. Sam didn’t stumble as much as fall the last few feet. He looked up at Dean through his long lashes and ignored the hand Dean thrust down to help him up in favour of finishing off the whisky. The bottle shattered when he tossed it over his shoulder. “Hey, Dean…?”

“Yeah?”

“I do like climbing bigger things.” Sam was probably aiming for sultry or slutty but it came out more petulant. Dean’s dick didn’t care. Especially when Sam’s hands scrabbled at his calves and then his thighs, drawing ever nearer to the target of his caresses.

“This is all just some kind of bizarre foreplay for you, isn’t it?” Dean couldn’t resist the comment as Sam started to pull himself up, nuzzling the front of Dean’s jeans as he used his grip on Dean’s hips to get to his feet. He ended up tangled his arms around Dean’s head and pulling him into his neck.

“Motel. Bed. Now. More climbing to do.” Sam planted a hand over interested Dean’s cock and squeezed. “Big things to climb.”

Dean led Sam towards the car with a hand at the small of his back. “I just meant older, you know.”

[linda3m.livejournal.com]

"Yes. Yes! That's smart!"

The problem is, when Dean gets drunk he thinks all Sam's ideas are smart. Even when they're really, really not.

[glovered.livejournal.com]

AH THIS IS EXCELLENT