Author's Note What did I just write? Unbeta'd.

Sam and Dean were drunk. Overly drunk. They decided to go to the bar, check out some of the locals for a case they were working on. They didn't mean to get drunk, honest. They just happened to get no were and started chugging it down for the sake of reprieve.

"Dude. Ever imagine Lucifer and Meg do in their spare time?" Sam questioned, slurry voice jumpy and off key.

"Who the hell asks that?" Dean counters, slightly less tipsy then Sam, obviously being the drunk one in their relationship.

"I dunno. Guess it kind of (hic) came to mind?" He finished of his fifth whiskey shot and burps loudly. The bartender is visually annoyed, but Sam keeps tipping him a dollar a drink, so he doesn't really stop the big moose.

"Another?" The barkeep asks and Sam smiles at him brightly.

"I love you."

"Whatever you say, champ," He replies, pouring some more whiskey into the glass.

"Well, since you asked," Dean interjects, slightly jealous, "I think they'd have smoking hot sex."

Sam chuckles and nearly falls off the bar stool only one of his butt cheeks is sitting on. "Dude. Yes."

"I can just imagine it now..."

Meg is straddling the big bad Devil himself, flipping her dark brunette hair back so she can lean in and start fucking her tongue in his mouth. His forked tongue splitting between her's, flavoring every bit of it. She smiles lustfully and bites his bottom lip before reaching down to grip the hem of her tight, low cut shirt. Peeling it off, rubs her hips down, grinding deliciously into Lucifer's hard on.

"Dude, no way. Luci would definitely top," Sam interrupts, pushing on Dean's shoulder. Dean slaps his hands away and lets Sam take over the story.

Lucifer flips them, effortlessly. His hand curls down under her, undoing her black lace bra with one fluid motion. She wiggles her arms out of it, flinging it across the room. A dark smirk smug on her face.

Lucifer doesn't like to see it there. He doesn't like it at all.

He tugs her up, faces smashing in a slightly passionate, mostly hungry kiss. They tongue on each other's throats, neither getting very far at the rate they are going. They are breathing heavily, quick, short, but deep breaths.

"Dude, just get to the porn already. God..."

"What? You can just-" Sam tries to protest before Dean starts babbling his interpretation.

Their clothes are ripped off each other and Lucifer is prepping Meg with two fingers. The burn from it is intoxicating to the demon. She throws her head back with a low moan escaping her mouth.

"Ew, that's gross. I have to look at them both, ya know."

"Suck it up, Sammy. It's your own fault for saying yes in the first place," Dean nags, eyes flashing a deep, empty black before smirking. He pulls from his beer and orders a whiskey shot. Sam sighs, scratching at his way-too-long hair.

So this is what a hundred years of hell does to Dean. Makes him a horny ass demon. Drags Sam back to hell. And decides to talk about the Devil and his slut. And of course, Sam has to rise bright and early in the mourning, reek some havoc here or there in Hell, but then come home to the image of Meg and Lucifer fucking in his head. It doesn't help he has to look at them both.

Dean is gonna pay for that one.