Title: Trial and Error
Author: Spinny Roses
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest (Dean/Sam)
Spoilers: Pilot
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: Sam wants sleep, but Dean just wants one more beer and one more game of darts...


It had been a long day. Sam had gotten at the most one hour of sleep in the midst of nightmares, followed up by a werewolf attack. And now Dean insisted on going out to a bar to drink and play some darts. All Sam wanted was to go back to the motel, curl up, and maybe die. At least be unconscious for a few hours. But of course not, Dean wasn't done yet with his beer.

"Dean," Sam finally said, finishing off his bottle. "Look, Dean, I really got to..."

"Dude, just one more game. Shit," Dean spat out, nowhere near the bull.

Sam snorted, signaling for another beer. "Which will turn into... what? Another game? Challenging someone to pool? The bar's only open so long."

"If you're that much of a pussy, why don't you hitch a ride home?" Dean took another swig, and aimed, looking like he was about to miss, again.

"Dean, damn it." Sam got up, swaying a bit from not enough food, not enough sleep, too much beer. "Gimme those."

"Sammy, just wait, okay?" Dean huffed, and tossed. The dart ended up somewhere in the upper right-hand part.

Sam grunted, and grabbed Dean's hand. "Not like that." He guided his brother's hand up, struggling to get behind him and not be flush up against that delicious ass. Dean didn't help much, making sure to rub up against him when they were almost right. Finally, Sam gave up, and placed his free hand on Dean's thigh. He aimed carefully, guiding Dean's hand up, when Dean rolled his hips backwards.

The dart didn't even make it on the target.

"Sammy, Sammy," Dean laughed, not pulling away, "I do believe you're drunk."

"And you're totally sober?" Sam growled, indicating the dart all over the board.

"Hey, I've had just one beer. Unlike you, Mr..." He twisted in Sam's grasp, making sure to stay up against his body. "One... two... three beers."

Sam grunted, hips pushing slightly up against Dean. He reached around, searching for an stiff piece of flesh. Dean had been rather bad at darts today... Sam had seen him play completely drunk, slightly stoned, and incredibly turned on, and was better than that. Through an alcohol haze, a thought was born. He frowned, poking at it, trying to make it grow when Dean pushed back, grinding against him.

Thought was swiftly killed at that.

Sam leaned down, licking the outer shell of Dean's ear and nibbling right behind it, right where Dean would gasp and beg. Dean groaned, pulling away. "Dude, I need to get you drunk more often if you're going to be screwing me in public." He had one more dart left. "Pack your shit up, and get the car warm." Illegal innuendo slid around the word warm.

Sam licked his lips, starting to shove papers into the pack when Dean let the last dart fly.

Bull's eye.