(Supernatural Fanfiction) Men Are Pigs

Men Are Pigs
Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 to R (for mature themes, possible abuse of alcohol, and implied incest)
A bar, a bachelorette party, and one very, very drunk Sam.

Men Are Pigs

Sam didn’t know how he got into these situations.  Sure, his plans for tonight got canceled, so yeah he decided to go out instead of being cooped in his room all night.  All that made sense.

What he didn’t understand is how he ended up in the middle of a re-bachelorette party bemoaning the evils of “man-dom” with six hot women – one of whom a recent divorcée.

“Men are pigs!”

“Yeah!”  They shouted, even Sam, and slammed down another shot.

Shot glasses littered the table, some full, most empty.  Sam tired to rehash the chain of events that lead him here.

He got dumped, last second.  Check.

Instead of moping, he found the nearest bar.  Check.

With a drink for courage, he approached a cute redhead at the counter, then…

“Men are pigs!”

“Yeah!”  They all slammed another shot, including Sam.  Now he remembered.

The redhead (Candace, Sam remembered) was the ‘BFF’ of recent divorcée, Molly (Sandy brown hair, freckles.  Like Dean, but chestier).  And with his usual bad timing, Sam was swept up with their alcohol driven battle-cry.

“Men are pigs!”

“Yeah!”  Another shot.

Sam tried to remember how many drinks he had.  They shouted “men are pigs” at least five times now, maybe six, with a whisky shot after each.  Then there was that drink for courage earlier, the orange pushups that Candace (definitely nice chest) insisted they try, and oh, he had a sip of Sue’s (Asian. Petite. Kinda flat.) Tequila Sunrise because “she didn’t like whisky.”  Pshaw.

‘”We should do something fun,” Candace said.

“This is fun,” Molly said.  “Men are pigs!” She cried.

“Yeah!”  They shouted automatically, slamming down another whisky.  Jennifer (Bottle blonde. Small boobs, big lips.  Toss up.) diligently refilled everyone’s glass with the bottle of Jameson on the table.  Sam didn’t think he heard her say anything other than “Yeah!” all night.  But she kept the shot glasses full, and for that, he was impressed.

“Yeah, but we should do something funner,” Candace continued.  Funner’s not a word, Sam belatedly thought, but the conversation was already moving forward without him.

“Like what?”

“I dunno.”

There was a pause.  Sue slurped her sunrise.

Quietly, Sam said, “Truth or Dare.”

All eyes fell on him.  And Sam couldn’t remember if he was supposed to be sitting at the table with them at all anymore.  Did he just invite himself to their party?

“Truth or Dare!”  Molly cried.

“Yeah!”  Candace agreed.

“Men are pigs!”  Sue lisped.

“Yeah!”  Another shot.

Sam followed the game with half-hearted interest.  Molly went first, because she was the recently single, and most of her questions ran long the “Who’s the piggiest man you know?” line of thought.  So did most of the other women’s, until they got to Jennifer.  She accepted her dare, climbed on top of the table and showed the entire bar her breasts.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Awesome, Sam thought.

It took a few minutes for Sam to realize that the boobs were put away and someone was asking him a question.

“Truth or dare?”

“Oh.  Dare,” Sam said.  It was another second to realize which side he picked.

“I dare you,” Jennifer was saying (Wow, but her lips were like, awesome, too.  Wonder what they’d look like wrapped around my–) “turn around, and make out with the first person you see.”

Sam blinked.  Yeah, okay.

“Yeah, okay.”

He took another shot (Encouragement!) and stood up carefully.  Then he turned around.

And there was Dean, leaning up against the counter, hips thrust in his typical James Dean bad boy pose.

Sam blinked and processed what Jennifer had dared him to do.  Kiss Dean.  Right.  Yeah, okay.

He thought about telling the girls that Dean was his brother.  Or maybe even pretending he saw someone else.  But then he thought, why not?  It’s just Dean.  And Sam was very drunk.  Dean would either pretend it hadn’t happened, or kill Sam.  If Sam was dead, he wouldn’t’ have a hangover in the morning, because you can’t get hangovers when you’re dead.  Ooh, hangover cure.  Definitely kissing Dean.

And he was stalking the length of the room towards Dean before he realized he was moving.  And then Dean was right there and Sam put his hand on his brother’s confused face and pressed their lips together.

It could’ve been fine if it stopped there, but Sam tasted bourbon on Dean’s lips and why was Sam drinking whisky when he could be drinking bourbon?  Sam slid his tongue into Dean’s mouth and he pushed against him, hips grinding against hips and there were lots and lots and lots of happy friction.

Dean pried Sam off.  “Dude, what?”

Sam spun around and threw his fists in the air.  “I won!” He shouted.

And promptly fell over.

Sam kind of remembered getting back to the motel room.  The girls all cried out triumphantly after Sam fell over, and someone shouted “Men are pigs!” again so Sam reached for his shot glass but all he found was Dean’s thigh.

Then Dean said they had to go home, and the girls “Aww”-ed and Sam “Boo”-ed, but Dean was already manhandling Sam outside.

Then they were in the Impala.  Then they were home.

And Dean was being awfully quiet, so Sam thought he should talk, to fill up the awkward space.  Because sometimes Silence is Golden, and sometimes Silence is just Awkward.  So Sam talked about Candace’s pretty hair and Molly’s stupid ex-husband and how Sue was kinda ugly but from the floor he could see that she had really awesome shoes, and—



“What was that?  Back there?

Sam thought about it.  Dean knew it was a bar, so that wasn’t the question.  And Sam just got done telling him about the girls’ party so unless he forgot already—but Dean wasn’t that stupid.  Sam knew Dean only pretended to be dumb to get out of work, or when he thought it was cute, like he was cute pushing up against Sam and making that noise while Sam kissed him and humped his leg—

Oh yeah.

Sam thought some more.  How to explain Truth or Dare?  Well…

“Men are pigs, Dean.”

With that, Sam decided that he could really use a nap before Dean killed him and ended his hangover, so he lied down on the floor and went to sleep.

Dean watched his brother collapse on the floor in a heap.  The drunk was already snoring.  He sighed.  Sam was such a handful.

He grabbed the comforter from Sam’s bed and draped it around his brother’s sleeping form.  The man snorted and mumbled something like “Truth or dare, Dean?” before rolling over onto his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Good night, Sam.”  He switched off the light.



Author: Eris O'Reilly

I'm a writer, artist, knitter, crocheter, cat wrangler, zombie hunter, and law enthusiast. Also, I am a complete and utter fangirl. I like silliness.

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