Pour Some Sugar On Me Part One

"Never have I ever, broken an arm."

"Really? I thought you had."

"Nope. Broke my leg twice, but never my arm."

Dean shrugs at you and takes a swig from his beer. Sam joins him. You knew that one would get them because hunters are always getting hurt.

Placing his empty glass on the table, Sam stands and moves towards the bar in order to buy another round. He stumbles slightly and you giggle at the tipsy giant. Dean glowers at you and pushes his empty glass to the end of the table.

The bar is busy and loud. The music thrums in your head and accompanies your buzz, but you feel sheltered sitting in the back booth with the Winchester's.

"You did good today, sweetheart." Dean's voice pulls you from your thoughts. You laugh without restraint.

"You're just saying that because I saved your ass from that werewolf."

Dean grins at you. After a rough hunt, you all thought you deserved a drink. It was your idea to play a drinking game and the boys reluctantly went along with it. However, they seemed more into it now that they were buzzed.

Returning, Sam places three large pints on the table. You still have half a beer and you chug it in order to keep up.

"Whose turn is it now?," Sam asks. His face is flushed.

"Mine," Dean growls. You can see him thinking hard. "Never have I ever streaked."

You don't drink your beer, but Sam takes a hearty chug. He smiles at both of you. "First week at Stanford."

Dean raises an eyebrow at you, "You've never streaked? I thought that would get you for sure."

"Nope. Never."

"My turn!," Sam calls out. "Never have I ever given a blowjob."

You laugh and take a large swig. Then your eyes widen as you see Dean taken a sheepish sip. "What? When have you —"

"This isn't twenty questions. I don't need to explain myself," Dean interrupts. His face colours.

"Wow Dean. You're more adventurous than I thought," you giggle. Sam can't stop grinning like a fool. He clearly knew already.

You pause and try to think of one. Dean eyes you as you think and you can see that his emerald eyes have become glassy. Shaking your head, you avert your gaze from him. A smile crosses your face when an idea pops in your head.

"Never have I ever sent a nude photo."

Grinning, you watch and see if the boys drink. Sam laughs out loud and takes a swing of his beer, winking at you. "The road can get lonely," he explains.

Dean stares you down before smirking and drinking his beer. You gape at him. "You've both done it?"

"Are you surprised?," Dean chuckles.

"No. I guess not. I guess I just kind of feel like a prude now."

Sam drinks his beer and replies, "You know you could fix that."

You raise an eyebrow at him and you feel your face flush. "What do you mean?"

"Go to the bathroom right now and take a nude," Dean interjects. He looks at you like he's hungry. You feel really warm and your head is swimming slightly. Maybe you shouldn't have tried to keep up with the guys' drinking.

Hiccuping, you giggle at them. "You guys are nuts."

"Come on, Y/N," Sam goads, "You gotta be able to keep up with us in this game."

You're pretty sure that's not how this game works, but the alcohol is overriding your brain. The attention of the two buff hunters is making you bold. You've all been friends for years, but you can't ignore how attractive they are.

"Fine," you concede. "One photo and nobody gets to see it."

Both boys grin like dopes as you get up from the booth. You wobble slightly on your feet, but you make it to the bathroom. It's a grimy bar bathroom, but at least it's empty. You're wearing a black tank top and a leather jacket. The bandage on your ribs kept you from wearing a bra as it rubbed on your wound. Besides, your breasts were small and perky so it didn't really make a difference.

Taking a deep breath, you peel up your tight tank top and reveal your breasts. You gaze at yourself in the mirror. Scars and wounds litter your body and you try to ignore your own insecurities. You adjust your body into an awkward pose to try and get the best angle of your breasts. When you're somewhat satisfied, you snap a couple photos on your phone. When you're done you quickly pull down your shirt before anyone enters the room. Flipping through the photos, you delete the ones you don't like and save a single photo that shows your chest off nicely. You grin at your own brashness before leaving the bathroom.

When you slide into the back booth, both Winchester boys are staring at you and grinning like idiots. "Well?," Dean asks impatiently.

"I have officially taken my first nude!," you announce while taking a swig of your beer.

The boys cheer and Sam reaches for your phone. "Come on then. Let us see it!"

You pull the phone out or reach and tuck it into your jeans pocket. "No way! That wasn't part of the deal."

"Oh, come on," Dean complains while slurring his words. "Why not?"

You just shake your head and smile at him. His eyes are glassy, but his focus is intent on you. You can feel your own head swimming in booze.

"How about this," Sam chimes in, "Let's change the game to truth or dare. You don't even have to go first!" Sam footnotes before your can interject and protest.

Not waiting for a response, Sam calls out to Dean. "Truth or dare."

Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes, but he's willing to play if it gives him a chance of seeing your fresh nude. "Dare."

Glancing around the dive bar, Sam's hazel eyes fall upon an old biker dude. He looks middle aged, has an obvious beer belly, and his thick beard is greying. "I dare you to go kiss that guy on the cheek."

Eyes widening, Dean groans; however, he's never been one to back down from a dare. He finishes off his beer before slinking out of the booth and towards the bar. You and Sam watch him closely.

"You're going to get us in trouble, Sam."

His eyes flash over to you and his long fingers dance across yours on the table. You stare into his face and wonder what his lips taste like. "Maybe I like a bit of trouble," Sam whispers breathily.

You're about to lean in closer to Sam's face when you hear the sound of breaking glass and knuckles on bone.

Quickly, both your eyes whip over to Dean. You can see a fist sized cut above his eyebrow from where the biker punched him. The biker is now flat on his back on the floor and getting a face full of Dean's fist. His two friends are moving towards the squabble.

"Shit," you curse as you leap from your seat. Sam is one step ahead of you. Flying across the bar, Sam pulls Dean off the biker and begins to drag him towards the door. You stand between the boys and the bikers and apologize for Dean. You claim that he's had too much to drink. The bikers are reluctant to start a fight with a woman and you and the Winchester's are out the door before there's a full out brawl.

The cold air hits you like a knife and the smell of rain fills your nose. You always know when a storm is coming. The boys are standing in the parking lot and Dean is pulling away from Sam. His laugh echoes across the concrete.

"Well shit. Never been turned down like that before," he chuckles as he spits blood onto the ground. The punching session has not dampened his buzz.

Sam laughs with him and starts to meander toward the motel down the street. You had all decided to walk, so there would be no concerns about driving. "I didn't think you'd actually try to kiss the guy!"

"You should know better," you exclaim as you skip to keep up. "His pride is stronger than his sense."

Dean wraps an arm around your shoulder and grins at you. Leather and blood mix with the smell of rain. "Come on, princess. You like seeing me in action."

You roll your eyes as the three of you slowly move down the street. Goosebumps cover your skin and a shiver runs through your body. The night air is biting and you know there's more beer at the motel. "Let's get back. I want another drink and to get inside."

Sam, ever vigilant, notices your shiver and wraps his strong arm around your waist. You walk home sandwiched between the boys and you've never felt safer. Dean hums an old rock and roll tune and your joint laughter echoes through the dark.

Half way there, the rain starts. You mutter a curse under your breath and breakaway from the boys. You knew the rain was coming. Picking up the pace, you drunkenly jog the rest of the way as you hate being cold and wet. However, you're still soaked through as you unlock the motel door.

You immediately rip off your leather jacket and are left in your damp tank top. Droplets form down your hair and continue to soak your top. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, you attempt to dry your hair.

At this point, the boys stumble in. Sam's long hair is also dewy with rain while Dean wipes the water from his face. "Fucking hell," he curses as he throws his coat onto the couch. He peels off his wet T-shirt before grabbing a beer out of the fridge and plopping down in an armchair.

Sam moves more slowly as he pulls his coat down his broad shoulders and hangs it by the door. His eyes skirt to you and hesitate briefly before pulling off his own shirt.

The cold night air is now far from your mind and you feel warmth creep up your face. Seeing Sam's dripping hair, you approach him with the towel. He gives you side smile before bending slightly and letting you towel off his hair. His long locks grab at your slender fingers and you can faintly smell his shampoo. When his hair is no longer dripping, you pull away and throw the towel on one of the beds.

"Glad we got back when we did," Dean huffs while staring out the window. "We missed most of the downpour."

Turning, you smile at him. You move towards him and take a seat in the other armchair. Sam glides across the room and grabs a couple beers. He gives one to you before he lands heavily on the couch.

The three of you drink your beers and listen to the rain fall outside. You're very aware that you're sitting there in a thin tank top while the boys are shirtless. You can't help but run your eyes over their muscular bodies.

"We never finished our game," you interject, breaking the silence.

Sam and Dean turn and look at you and they both smile. You take a long sip on your beer.

"You're right!," Dean exclaims. "There's no way I'm going to be the only one to take a dare. Sammy, truth or dare."

Sam laughs and ponders for a second. The warmth and buzz from the bar begins to fill the little motel room.

"Truth."

Dean groans. "That's lame." He takes a second to think before he continues, "Strangest place you've ever done it?"

Face reddening slightly, Sam answers, "Changing room of a department store."

The three of you laugh and before you can ask Sam to explain, he's turning on you.

"Y/N, truth or dare?"

Remembering the nude photo on your phone, you take the easy way out. "Truth."

Both boys groan. "Dude, I got punched in the face! I better not be the only one who picks dare," Dean cries out.

Sam chuckles and you drink your beer. The alcohol runs through your body and warms you. Despite your chair being old and decrepit, you are feeling quite relaxed.

"Y/N," Sam calls out to get your attention, "Have you ever fooled around with another woman."

A sly grin spreads across your face. "Of course I have. Girls bodies are so much softer and nicer than boys. You can't beat a great pair of tits."

This time, it's Dean's turn to be surprised. You think you actually hear his jaw hit the floor. "Shit, you're a girl after my own heart!," he exclaims.

Sam drinks with a quiet smile on his face. You think you see him adjust in his jeans slightly, but you turn your attention to Dean. Your eyes can't help, but be drawn to the small line of hair leading into his pants.

"Dean, truth or dare."

Taking a chug of his beer, Dean answers, "Dare."

Pondering for a second, you try to think of a good one. You can feel both their eyes on you and you're aware of how your tank top is doing nothing to protect you from the cool air. Your nipples feel hard as rocks and you wonder if they can see through the thin material. "I dare you to dance to the song of my choosing. And you have to make it sexy."

Dean's smile only falters slightly as you pull out your phone. A bellowed laugh escapes from Sam. "This ought to be good."

You queue up a song on your phone and are about to hit play when Dean stops you. "Wait. Just one second." He finishes off his entire beer, slams it down onto the coffee table, and stands before you and Sam. "Ok, I'm good."

An evil smile crosses your face as you turn the music on. "Pour Some Sugar On Me," by Def Leppard begins to blare in the small room. Dean laughs before he starts to sway his hips to the music. He's a little clumsy and awkward, but his rocking pelvis is hypnotic. You yell and encourage him.

"Yea, boy! Take it off!," you scream at him playfully. Sam is bent over in laughter at the lewd display. However, Dean takes your words to heart and begins to undo his jeans to the rhythm of the music. He slides them down his muscular thighs and kicks them to you as you chuckle gleefully. When the music ends he is simply standing there in his boxers.

"Bravo," you call as he takes a quick bow and moves to grab another beer. This time when he sits down, he's wearing nothing but his boxers. His jeans are pooled on the floor by your feet.

He chugs part of his beer and wipes his mouth before his attention back on you. "Well, I hope you liked that because you'll never see that again."

You laugh and take a long drink. Your beer is almost empty.

"Y/N, truth or dare."

"Dean, I just went before you! You can't do that."

"What?" Dean splutters, "There's no rule saying I can't ask you next."

Sam interjects, "He's right you know. There's no rule."

You glare at Sam as an evil smile creeps across his face. "Fine," you concede, "Dare."

Without hesitation, Dean announces, "I dare you to streak."

Almost choking on your beer, you ask in exasperation, "What?!"

"I dare you to streak!," he repeats. "You said you've never done it before, so here's your chance."

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "I thought you were going to ask about the nude photo."

"Why worry about a photo when I have a chance to see the real thing," Dean grins.

Eyes flashing to Sam, you see a gleeful smile on his face. He's clearly delighted by how tonight's events are unfolding.

"You guys suck," you mutter as you finish you beer and stand up. Slowly, you unzip your jeans.