((Damn, I was not feeling this one at all. I'm throwing in the towel; this is the best I could do.))
"You fucking ass," Sam growled, and the second the door was closed behind them Dean found himself pressed against the wall, Sam's big, imposing body closing him in and Sam's hands tangled in the front of his shirt.
"That's not very nice, Sammy," Dean smirked, tilting his head back against the wall and looking at Sam through his lashes sweetly.
"Neither was your little grope session under the sheriff's desk when you were supposed to be acting like a fucking professional," Sam fumed, and Dean smiled wider.
"It's the suit, Sammy, it does things to me," Dean purred, wrapping his hands around Sam's hips and giving a little squeeze, "Besides, I had to keep up both awake through that's sheriff's droning monotone. He sounded like the teacher from Ferris Bueller, I was doing us both a favor."
Sam's bitch face intensified, and Dean smiled a little wider.
"On your knees," Sam suddenly growled lowly, pulling Dean away from the wall and pushing down on his shoulders roughly, "You're going to finish what you started."
"Yessir," Dean purred.
Sometimes Sam was just too easy.