"Okay, he's all yours." Dean said, dropping the younger Winchester on the chair in their twin room.
"What? Where the hell do you think you're going?" You said, jumping up from your seat on the bed. Dean grabbed the key you had carelessly left on the table by your laptop.
"I'm sleeping in your room. In peace." He answered, tossing your key in the air.
"Like hell you are!" You say, moving to snatch the key.
"I dealt with him last time, it's your turn." Dean said, lifting the key well out of your reach.
"He's your brother!" You argue.
"You're the one who lo-mmrf" He tried to say before you put your hand over his mouth.
You look over at Sam to make sure he hadn't heard, but he was too busy laughing at his own shoe. You breathe a sigh of relief. You turn glaring at Dean who's smirking at you.
"You're the one who got him drunk!" You whisper-yelled at him.
Dean let out a sigh, "Well there's only one way to settle this."
You roll your eyes before raising your hand for rock, paper, scissors; which Dean wins.
"Ha!" Dean shouts, grabbing his bag. "Have fun!" You continue to glare as he shuts the door.
Damn him, he knew how you felt about Sam! He'd picked up on it about three months ago and hasn't let you live it down since… And now he pulls this little stunt.
The problem wasn't with helping Sam, no, you'd help him in a heartbeat. It was that when Sam got drunk he got friendly… very friendly. Yes, Sam Winchester was an affectionate drunk, and that meant hugs, touches, and kisses. Being pulled onto his lap to be cuddled wasn't so bad, it was the way he stroked your hair or the way he nuzzled your ear as he spoke that broke you. You had dreamed that Sam would do that sober so many times that it hurt, but no, he barely even looks at you when he hasn't been drinking.
Dean is usually your hero when Sam is like this, knowing how uncomfortable it makes you… so why has he left you now? You sigh, knowing that staring at the door isn't going to help anyone. You turn to look at the object of your affection to see him struggling to remove his shoe and giggling. You crack a smile.
"Come on Sammy, let's get you to bed." You state in an almost matronly tone as you help him to remove his shoe. Sam snorts at you, his face neutral.
"You're bossy!" You look at him with the classic 'bitchface #12'. "And short." He adds, laughing again.
You shake your head at him, rubbing your temple to try and numb the headache that will surely follow.
"Well Samsquatch, everyone is short compared to you." You say as you remove his other shoe, before holding your hands out to help him stand. He smiles up at you, taking your hands and pulling you down onto his lap, locking his arms around you. Sitting on his lap, every breath he exhaled tickled your neck.
'Remind me to kill Dean tomorrow.' You think as he pulls your impossibly closer, sniffing your hair. You freeze, that's new… You hear him mumble something along the lines of "Mmmm, smells nice." Before he began to kiss your neck.
You tried your hardest to wiggle away from him but he had his arms clamped around you tightly. You closed your eyes, getting completely lost in the moment. It was when you felt a bulge grow against your hip that your eyes snapped open and you came to your senses.
"Okay, that's enough of that!" You say, more to yourself than to Sam. You tear his arms from around you, which is harder than it sounds… Even totally wasted Sam is a stupidly strong guy. You turned to see Sammy sulking, you rolled your eyes, still trying to shake the feeling of his lips on your skin.
"Oh no, puppy eyes are not working here Sam Winchester. Up, changed, bed! In that order mister!"
He looked down before raising his arms for you to pull him up, and you almost fell for it, stopping just before reaching him when you saw his sulking face had turned to a smirk. You laughed, shaking your head, "Come on Sammy, its getting late. Bed!"