Tequila

A/N: This is a crossover between an AU FMA'verse and Supernatural written to break my roommate's brain. The Ed and Al in this fic might well just belong to the Supernatural'verse, let's put it like that.

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It started early on in the evening this time. Ed was pissed as all hell, he had gotten cracked over the head a good one by the random hunter who had stopped him in the middle of pursuing an angry spirit - Ed didn't like crossing paths with other hunters, and he'd lost the only lead he had because of it. On top of a goose egg on the back of his head, he was in a terrible mood.

Al knew better than to even bother dealing with Ed when he was like this, so he kicked Ed out of the room so he could work on research. Peeved, Ed went to sulk at the seedy dive of a bar down the street.

The bar was mostly full of truckers, although there were a few hot girls scattered about. Not very many people to flirt with, though, unless he wanted to start a brawl. While that was a perfectly viable option, Al wouldn't forgive him if he got the cops on their tail here. Ed sighed into his beer, getting laid would have burned off most of his frustration at that dick of a hunter screwing up the whole damn thing.

He was nursing his third beer glumly when he noticed an impromptu poker game setting up in the corner. He and Al weren't running low on cash just yet, but there was no harm in coming home a few hundred dollars richer. Ed stood up from his bar stool and meandered over. "Got room for one more?"

The dealer looked up with an easy grin, and Ed hesitated for a split second. He recognized that sort of smile, he'd worn it himself. It was the smirk of a con man at work. "Sure, pal! Pull up a seat."

Ed returned the smirk, grabbing a chair from a nearby table and sitting himself opposite the dealer, between two truckers that could use a shower. If he couldn't beat someone up literally, he could at least match wits (and hopefully thrash) a hustler on his own turf.

The night - and the beers - passed quickly enough. Without even speaking the two of them came to an accord quickly, and between them they cleaned out every rube who sat down to play. When the last guy got up, disgruntled, the dealer laid down his cards and favored Ed with a smirk. "You want to go a round, all or nothing?" Ed snorted in response, dropping his own cards to the table.

"No thanks, I made more than enough tonight. I don't need to donate to your cause." He leaned back in his chair, draining the rest of his beer. "You're good, thou'." He waved at the waitress. "And a good sport. Next round of beer's on me."

"You won't find me complaining," the dealer said with a chuckle. "You're not half bad yourself, kid. Gotta name?"

"Yeah, and if you don't wanna choke on your own ball sack you won't call me that again. Ed," he said.

The other man snorted at him. "How old are you supposed to be, maybe nineteen? Dean," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"You're a goddamned decade off, fuckhead," Ed snarled grumpily. "What the fuck, do I look like some high school twerp?"

"It's the hair," Dean said with a shrug. "You totally have pedo-bait bangs."

Ed glared at him from under those 'pedo-bait bangs.' "You have GOT to be fucking kidding me, he groaned. "I am twenty-eight goddamned years old, I am /not/ fucking pedo-bait!"

The waitress stopped by their table to drop off two more long-necks. Ed immediately kicked over into flirt mode, and the waitress favored him with a smile and eyes that lingered for a moment before turning and sauntering back toward the bar. Ed watched her ass for a moment, then glanced over to see Dean doing almost the exact same thing. "Dude," Ed complained as soon as she was out of earshot. "I saw her first."

"Yeah," Dean said with a chuckle. "But I'll see her last."

Ed growled. "Last one to get her phone number picks up the tab."

Dean smirked. "You're on."

*

The pair of them were unceremoniously shoved out the door well past last call. Dean stumbled against Ed, tripping over the uneven pavement; and Ed shoved Dean off of him, watched him hit the side of the building, and they both roared with drunken laughter. "Seventeen-?" Ed choked out, still laughing.

Dean was scanning the parking lot in confusion. "Where's -" he said, then snapped his fingers. "At the motel - c'mon," he slung his arm over Ed's shoulder amicably. "Let's go do some shots, I've got a bottle of tequila at the hotel."

Ed was starting to sober up a bit by the time they stumbled to the motel room. He had to pause a moment and admire Dean's taste in cars, then they wandered inside.

"Sammy'll be back tomorrow," Dean said, rooting around in a bag on the dresser. Someone's computer stuff was set up all over the table at the end of the room, so Dean dug out a TV tray to set between the beds and they sat on the edge of the beds doing shots.

After the second shot the room started to get hot. "The hell kinda tequila IS this?" Ed slurred a bit as Dean sloppily poured a third.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really," Ed laughed catching Dean's eye and then knocked the shot back. The liquor burned down his throat and he opened his eyes to watch Dean knock his own shot back, watching the line of his throat as he swallowed, the flush of intoxication across his face as the alcohol took hold.

Ed swallowed and held out his shot glass numbly, hoping Dean wouldn't notice how tight his jeans now felt. The look that Dean gave him worried him slightly. "You all right there, Eddie?"

"'M fine," Ed said, looking doggedly at the shot glass he'd set on the TV tray - which was now located next to Dean's crotch, as he had stood up to strip off his long-sleeved shirt. Dean poured another shot out of the bottle, and Ed looked up at him, something like panic trying to work itself through his head.

Dean knocked back his own shot, and then looked down at Ed through heavy eyes. "Fuck," he said.

"Man," Ed said suddenly. "I don't know what the fuck you're doing but I'm not into guys-"

Dean's eyes flew wide at the comment. "What the fuck are you-"

"You brought me back to your hotel room," Ed ticked off on his fingers. "And got me drunk," he added after a moment's thought.

"Yes, because I'm /totally/ gay for you," Dean said, and rolled his eyes.

"Well, your cock totally is," Ed snorted, pointing out Dean's straining erection under his jeans. Dean's face flushed even more as he sat down abruptly.

"Swear to GOD that is NOT my fault," Dean half-yelled. "I'm not fuckin' GAY!"

Ed nearly fell over, finding Dean's shouting hysterically funny. He choked out laughter while Dean just looked mortified. Ed dropped his shot glass on the table and snickered, trying to stand up. "I should-should go," he got to his feet and watched the world tilt crazily. "Hey, uh. The room's not moving, right?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dean said, standing up opposite Ed. He put his hands on Ed's shoulders, trying to force him to sit back down. "You're going to stay here and sleep off the booze."

Dean managed to push Ed down, but Ed whooped, not expecting his legs to give out and he went over backwards, grabbing Dean's shirt to try to keep himself upright and only succeeded in spilling them both across the bed.

"Whoa!" Ed gasped, a split second before Dean landed on top of him. Ed shoved at Dean, Dean tried to untangle himself from Ed, and suddenly Dean's knee was centimeters away from Ed's crotch, his own groin pressed into Ed's hip.

"Oh /fuck/," Ed breathed. Dean swallowed hard and Ed could sense he was trying hard not to twitch his hips or move at all. "Not gay, huh?" Ed said when their eyes locked and Dean had a startled, deer-in-the-headlights look, so Ed said "Fuck it," and took the initiative.

Kissing a guy was nowhere near the same as kissing a girl. His lips were chapped and hard - Dean smelled like tequila and he hadn't shaved in a day or two but the responses were the same. After a long, startled moment, Dean started responding, shifting and moving over Ed, his erection digging into Ed's hip.

Dean opened his eyes and looked down at Ed, clearly startled. "I wanted to get laid tonight," Ed said, his voice dropping. "You wanted to get laid tonight. I don't give a fuck if it's gay or not, I just want to get off at this point."

Dean stared at him, their noses centimeters apart. Then he laughed suddenly. "Fuck, you only live once," he said, and leaned down to bite Ed's neck.

*

After a lot of groping and twisting around, they ran across a tiny problem.

"I'm not going to take it," Ed grunted, rolling them over again. Dean bit his shoulder, getting one leg behind Ed's knee and trying to break Ed's leverage.

"Fuck that!" Dean bucked against Ed and that broke Ed's grip, rolling them both on their side. "I'm not the one getting fucked tonight!"

Ed reached down and cupped Dean through his jeans, which had been wrenched open earlier. Dean made a desperate noise as Ed squeezed, curving around him. "I think you will be," Ed growled.

Dean rolled his hips greedily into Ed's hand, then surprised Ed by rolling completely on top of him. Ed whuffed out his lungful of air as Dean started yanking down his own jeans and boxers. "Oh no," Ed said as Dean took his cock bare-handed and Ed almost lost all coherent thought. Dean grinned sharply, removing Ed's jeans and boxers completely, tossing them off the bed somewhere. "Fuck," Ed moaned, arching his hips into Dean's hands. "No, no, wait - fuck - wait!" Ed smacked Dean's shoulder with his hand. "I know how we can - ah - decide-!"

"Seems like it's already been decided to me," Dean said smugly. Ed groaned, his head pushing back into the crumpled comforter. He hooked his thighs around Dean's hips and forcibly rolled them both, straight off the bed.

"I am NOT the GIRL!" Ed said, landing on top of Dean.

"Good thing too, you weigh a fuckton," Dean wheezed. Ed rolled off of him and sat up on the carpet.

"Look, we'll rock-paper-scissors for it," Ed said. "That sound fair?"

Dean looked at him suspiciously. "Sounds fair, I guess."

They held out their hands. On the third hit, they both threw scissors. "Damn," Ed said. Third hit again they both threw rock. They glared at each other for a moment, then threw again. This time Dean threw rock and Ed threw scissors. "Aw, /fuck,/" Ed groaned, looking at his hand. "Best two outta three?"

"Looks like you ARE gonna be the girl," Dean crowed, dropping his closed fist on Ed's scissors.

Ed grumbled to himself, then Dean put his other hand on Ed's cock and pulled and Ed immediately shut up. Ed wiggled his butt on the carpet and spread his legs apart.

"Get back up on the bed," Dean suggested breathlessly. He had rocked back onto his heels and was wiggling his own pants off. Ed nodded, shucking his shirt and climbing back up on the bed. He spread his legs apart and watched Dean flick his jeans onto a chair. "You ever done this before?"

Dean avoided looking at Ed. "Once or twice," he muttered, like Ed would actually care.

Ed made a noise like a balloon losing air. "And you're complaining about this being GAY?!" Dean knelt on the bed, pushing Ed's one leg over his shoulder as he ran his fingers down Ed's ass.

"Doesn't change what it is," Dean said with a hitched breath. His fingers slicked with - well, Ed didn't know quite what and he really didn't want to know - Ed tried breathing through his mouth. "What about you?" Dean asked, working one finger into Ed. "You ever done it with a guy before?"

Ed hissed for a moment while Dean worked a second finger into him. "Not like this," he finally said. "Been with some girls into kinky shit, but - ah!" He kicked his head back, and panted to the ceiling for a moment. "Never been fucked by a guy."

"Well, you can cross that off your to-do list," Dean removed his fingers and considered, lifting Ed's hips while he tried to figure out the angle. Ed watched him through half-lidded eyes while Dean shoved a pillow under his ass. "Don't freak out on me, okay?"

Ed groaned as Dean settled in between his spread legs. "I won't freak-AH!" He craned his neck to look down between them. "What the fuck are you DOING?"

"Putting it in," Dean grunted. "Does it hurt?"

Ed winced. "Think you need more lube," he said after a moment. Dean grumbled, pulling out and slicking himself with more. Ed exhaled. "Fuck, you're huge," Ed said.

The smirk that lit Dean's face was enormous. "You better believe it," he purred, spreading Ed's legs again and pressing against his entrance.

Ed forced himself to relax, letting his eyes slide closed and hooking his knees over Dean's hips. He felt stretched out, almost split open and it didn't feel bad, just, just-

Then Dean moved, a short thrust and it was like fireworks went off behind his eyelids. Ed gasped out and rocked forward, and Dean took that as a cue to begin fucking him for real.

Ed curled up into Dean, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck as Dean bent his head in concentration, the other hand jerking himself off in time to Dean's rocking thrusts. "Oh fuck, oh /fuck,/" Ed chanted like a mantra until Dean's mouth found his own and he bit his lip and Ed couldn't hold it in anymore, the whole world went white....

*

Ed heard the door click open in his sleep-fuzzed state and automatically reached for the knife he kept under his pillow. To his not-awake surprise, another hand was reaching for the knife at the same time. Ed's head shot up and he stared in hung-over confusion at the other guy in his bed.

Then Ed realized he wasn't in HIS bed.

Three things happened at approximately the same time. The guy - Dean, his subconscious reminded him icily - had the same realization he did, that they were naked, tangled together and covered in their own fluids. Ed realized that DEAN had a knife under his pillow, and that he had one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had. Maybe not including the first time he'd had tequila, but coming in a close second.

Then Ed realized that the guy standing in the door was the same guy who nearly gave him a concussion.

Naturally, confusion reigned.

Ed flailed himself out of the bed, landing between the two beds and knocking over the TV tray, grabbing for a weapon, any weapon, and settling on the tequila bottle, before standing up and pointing at the guy in the door. "YOU!"

Dean half-sat up, groaning. "Fuck," he said. "Too early to be too fuckin' loud."

Sam stared at Ed in confusion, then at the clothes on the floor, then realized it was probably in his best interests to just come back later and pretend nothing had happened, so he closed the door.

"Fucking - FUCK!" Ed hopped into his jeans, ignoring the way his body hurt and twinged and the fact that he felt like he was going to upchuck the last five meals worth of food. "I owe your friend a punch or three in the head," Ed yelled as he ran out the door, still pulling on his shirt and his pants unbuttoned.

Dean groaned again and let his head drop back onto the pillow. He wasn't awake enough to deal with this.