Author: nightrose_spn
Summary: The boys get very drunk and play Truth or Dare. Wincest, first-time.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Drinking, language, incest, implied sex, slash
Genre: Humor/Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own. I'm sure Sam and Dean are very grateful for that.
Notes: Set sometime during Season Two. They're on a random hunt. Reviews are made of chocolate-covered win.

"Let's play a game, Deeeeaaannn…"
Through the fuzz of two bottles of hard liquor, I find myself agreeing. "'kay."
"Let's play Truth or Dare!"
"'m not a fuckin' girl, dude. I will never be drunk enough to agree to… to… to…" at this stage of intoxication, words are failing me, "that."
He pouts extravagantly.
"Jesus, Sammy." I scowl. Damn puppy eyes. "But only because I'm fuckin' wasted and I'm not gonna… gonna remember this 'n the morning."
He grins, and it's almost worth my humiliation. "Kay. Truth or dare."
"Dare. 'm a man of… of… action."
"Go an'…" it takes him a while to think of something, pursing his lips. "Can't think of somethin' you… wouldn' do anyway…"
I laugh until my stomach starts to hurt.
Then Sam holds up a finger. "Waaaait. I gottit. Eat th' worm from the bottle of tequila."
"That's officially the least creative dare ever, Sammy," I grumble.
"Well, since I just drank the whole aforementioned bottle, it's not some huge shock."
Only Sam would use the word aforementioned when playing a drunken game of Truth or Dare with his brother.
I pour the worm out. My hands are shaking, so it takes a while. I pop it in my mouth, chew, swallow, grin.
"I win!"
"Truth or Dare isn' a competition."
"I still win." I stick my tongue out, and he grins.
"Sure you do."
"Truth 'r Dare, S'mmy."
"Truth."
"How old were you when you lost it?"
"Lost what?"
I roll my eyes and make a gesture I feel makes my point quite obvious.
He turns funny colors.
"Wha', you still a virgin 'r somethin'?"
"No," he mutters. Again with the funny colors.
"Wha', then?"
"Twenty."
I laugh hysterically. He scowls.
"How old were you, De?"
"Not my turn," I slur.
"Fine. Truth or Dare."
"Dare."
I'm hoping to trip him up, because as open as I am I don't particularly want to share details of my sex life with my little brother. He, however, appears to be totally prepared. "Dare you to let me drive for the next month."
I swing a punch straight into his gut, happy to see I'm not too drunk to make him double over, gasping. "No."
"Chicken!" he screams as soon as he's recovered from the blow. He points and laughs. "Deanie's chicken!"
"Fine. But I hate you, and I still get to pick out the music. An' I get to make fun of you, virgin-boy."
"Deal."
Damn.
"Truth or dare, kid."
"Mmm… truth."
Damn again. "What's your biggest secret?"
He looks away. "Lame, dude. That's a lame question."
"What is it, Sammy?"
"I'm not tellin' you, jerk."
"Oh yes you are, bitch."
He puts his head between his knees, sinking back onto the bed. "Naw. I'm too tired. I'm goin' to sleep."
I grab his wrist. "Not cool."
"Deeeeeaaaannn…" he whines, using those damn puppy eyes again.
"Cheater. You're the… the… the one who wanted t'… t' play the damn… game in th' first place."
He sighs. "We forget this in the morning."
"Given, since I'm drunk enough that I'm playing Truth or Dare."
In a rush. Not looking at me. He says it, says, "I love you, okay?"
"I love you too. You big girl."
"No. Like, I love you, I love you." His voice has only gotten quieter. I'm right next to him and I can barely hear him.
"Like, like like!" I giggle. "You really are a twelve-year-old girl at heart."
"You don' understand, De." Through the drunken slur his words are bursting with emotion. "I love you like I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Like I want to kill every random chick who puts her red-painted claws all over you. Like… like I only want one bed in our hotel room."
"'S that Sammy-speak for I think we should fuck?"
He blushes. "I… I guess. Now can I go die in a hole somewhere?"
"No. Game ain't over, Sammy."
He gives me a look of patent disbelief. When I only smile, he says, "Truth 'r dare?"
"Truth."
"How badly does it freak you out?"
"Not at all."
"Really?"
"Y'only get one question, Princess."
He jabs me in the stomach. I jab back. "Truth or dare," I say.
"Dare." I lift one eyebrow, and he shrugs. "Can't be worse than the truth."
The blood and booze spin in my head. I swallow hard and say, quietly, "Dare you to kiss me."
He steps back, and the world sinks into my stomach. Every nightmare I've ever had… then he says, "That's not fair, Dean." His voice is sober suddenly. "Don't do this. Don't play with me."
"I'm… not." There is ringing silence. "Why do you think it doesn't bug me, huh? Why do you think I sleep with every chick I see? Why do you think I fucking cried when you went to college but not when you pick bullets out of my shoulder after a hunt gone wrong? Why do you think I… Sammy, I love you. I'm in love with you, I have been for years now." I reach out those few always-forbidden inches to touch his face. "I dare you to kiss me."
And he does.
It's different than my decade of fantasies. I'd expected a moment of passion, of heat and near-violence when we finally let go. It's sweeter than I ever let myself imagine. His lips are warm and soft and he says, "Truth or dare."
"Dare."
His eyes flash bright. He smiles and, just as I expected, whispers, "I dare you to make love to me."

__________________________________________________________________________________________

I wake up in the morning with a headache I wouldn't wish on the devil himself.
"Coffee, I need coffee," I mutter, then realize I can't get up. Because I'm pinned to the bed. Under Sam.
Who I slept with last night. After playing Truth or Dare.
Fuck.
Well, we were drunk. And possibly possessed. Why else would I sleep with Sammy?
Because I've wanted to since I was sixteen.
Okay, why else would I play Truth or Dare?
As I'm lost in my thoughts, Sam stirs, warm and comfortable on top of me.
This should not feel so right, because it is very, very, very wrong. It is. I mean it.
Shit.
I don't think my body (and specifically certain parts of it, which certain parts of Sam are touching) is convinced.
"De?" he murmurs, still mostly asleep.
"Hey, Sammy."
Maybe I'll be able to save this. Maybe he'll forgive me.
"Mmm." He rolls onto his side, next to me, and hugs my neck. When he snuggles closer, I sigh.
"I'm sorry, kid." I try to push him off. His arms are like chains.
Really. I'm trying. I really do want him to let go. I do.
"'bout what, Dean?"
"You know. I was drunk." What a shitty excuse for forcing myself on my own baby brother. "It was a mistake." I'll never do it again. I waited this long, I can go back to the way it was.
And then the puppy eyes are being turned on me full-throttle. "You're sorry we were together?"
"I was really, really drunk. I… I don't…I swear I won't do it again." It's all I can think of to say.
"Dean, you're an idiot."
"What?"
"I wanted- want- this as much as you do. Probably more. So you can skip the whiny angst and tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Sober, the next morning… do you still want it?"
I sigh. "I do."
"Cool." He presses his lips feather-light against mine, and says, "I love you."
"I love you too."
The words don't stick in my throat at all. They're a little too damn true.
I stand up.
"Where are you going?"
I grin. "Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. And bacon, and pancakes, and eggs. Grease and caffeine. Then more sex."
He rolls his eyes. "The Dean Winchester miracle hangover cure."
"Exactly." I pull him to his feet and we laugh and laugh.