"Another...Shot, please," Timothy McGee's slurred voice rang out, his hands trembling as he slammed the upside down shot-glass onto the bar.

"Hey, buddy. I think you've had enough," A man's voice said from beside Tim.

"I know I've had enough. Which is why I need more," Tim replied, running his long fingers through his brown hair.

"Someone gets this drunk when they either want to kiss a girl, or kill a man. Which are you planning on doing?" The man asked.

"I can hardly call myself a man," Tim turned, his sparkling green eyes meeting a pair of the same color.

The man didn't respond, just merely looked Tim up and down.

"I'm Tim, Tim McGee. Though I don't know if you want to know a dead man's name," Tim lifted his hand, and extended it towards the man who graciously shook it.

"Dean Winchester. You're not a dead man yet, Tim. And you won't be one for a while, if I have anything to do with it," Dean pulled his hand back and stuck it inside his leather jacket that fit nicely over his broad shoulders.

He pulled out a wallet, opened it, and placed a fifty-dollar bill on the bar.

"I don't think your one beer cost fifty bucks," Tim raised his eyebrows at Dean's actions.

"No, but you sure as hell drank enough for two men. Fifty should cover it all," Dean stood up and placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Come on, I can drive you home."

"What about my car?" Tim stood and towered ever so slightly over Dean.

"I'll drive it. My brother can take my car. Just let me go tell him," Dean said and hurried away.

Tim saw him walk over to a booth that was in the corner of the bar. He noticed a very large man with a computer who Dean was talking to.

The large man nodded to something Dean had said and the two of them started to walk over to Tim.

"Tim, this is my younger brother Sam. Sam, this is Tim," Dean smiled and introduced the large man.

Sam stuck out his hand and extended it towards Tim, who shook it sharply.

"So, Dean's going to drive you home?' Sam pulled his hand back and ran it though his long Thor-like hair.

"Well, I don't really think I," Tim hiccupped, "Be driving in my condition. I'd be harmful to society. Though society is a harmful to itself…Also, I'm not a good drunk."

"Which is why I'm taking you home. Come on, where's your car?" Dean asked, and placed his hand on Tim's shoulder, leading the man out of the bar and into the cold DC night.

"It's the Porsche," Tim replied, breathing deeply as he inhaled the cool air.

"That's a pretty sweet ride, Timmy!" Dean almost ran over to the silver Porsche Boxster and almost hugged the vehicle.

"You probably would have liked my first car even better," Tim grinned and tossed Dean the car keys before climbing into the passenger seat.

"What was she?" Dean clambered into the car, fastened his seatbelt, and put the key in the ignition. He turned it and the car roared to life.

"A 1984 Camaro Z2B 5-speed. My parents bought her for me on my sixteenth birthday," Tim looked out the window and sighed.

"What happened to her?"

"I was trying to figure out how to use the windshield wipers…Then, I woke up in the hospital."

"You crashed?"

"Sort of. A bus hit me. I received a student pass the day I was out of traction," Tim turned and looked at Dean, "My dad almost killed me when he found out I wrecked her."

"Your dad was tough?" Dean pulled out of the parking spot and headed for the main road.

"I don't think he deserves the title of 'dad', but yeah, the Admiral was tough. Sometimes a little too tough…you want to turn here," Tim pointed at a street sigh and relaxed into the seat as the car made a right turn.

"My dad wasn't tough on Sammy and I, but he wasn't around a lot," Dean kept his eyes fixed on the road as he talked.

"Did he w-w-work a lot?" Tim yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, the. Family business kept him working a lot," Dean smirked a bit and made a little laugh.

"What's so funny?"

Dean just shrugged and sent a wink at Tim.

After receiving the wink, Tim looked over at Dean and stared intently at his face, not caring if it made the other man uncomfortable.

"Why are you staring?" The car stopped at a traffic light and Dean had the chance to look over at the staring man.

"You have a lot of freckles. I'm trying to count them. But I keep losing count and my vision is a little blurry," Tim replied, shifting his gaze to lock eyes with Dean.

Dean looked into Tim's eyes and saw something that he hadn't seen since he gazed into a different person's light blue eyes.

Love and trust.

He had only seen those in…

"Dean? The light turned green," Tim smiled softly and waved his hand in front of Dean's face.

Dean quickly turned his face and started to drive, his cheeks burning a deep red and his pulse racing.

The rest of the drive was done in complete silence, and Tim simply patted Dean's thigh to show that they had arrived.

Before Tim could pull his hand away, Dean quickly placed his on top and squeezed the long slender fingers that easily danced across computer keys.

Their eyes met, passion burning in both. They both leaned in so that their faces were only two or three inches apart.

Dean had been in this position many times before with the blue-eyed man.

"You're drunk, so I don't want to do this unless you want to do it," Dean leaned in, pressing his lips to Tim's ears.

"So, Timmy, am I going to be sent home alone?"

"My bed's big enough for two," Tim whispered, moaning slightly as rough lips attacked his neck.

The two barely had barely closed the apartment's front door before Dean was quickly pulling off Tim's shirt. He ran his hand over a small scar that was on his left abdomen and questionably looked up at Tim.

Tim shook his head and just threw Dean's jacket onto the couch before roughly pulling him to the bedroom.

The two men were so focused on each other that they didn't hear the distant ringing of Dean's phone that was in his deserted jacket.

They also didn't hear the buzzing that indicated Dean had gotten a text from his brother, which is too bad. Sam really needed help.

Dean was too interested in the green-eyed wonder to even remember why the two brothers had stopped into that bar in downtown D.C.

Hell, he couldn't care less if Sam and a couple angels were fighting for their lives.

Which was exactly what they were doing.

But from the sounds in the bedroom, Dean had other things to do. And he certainly was doing those other things quite well.

Okay, so this is my first crossover ever.

Don't worry, it will get better. Hopefully...

Updates will be every two weeks or so, I have two other stories that also need to have writing done..

Reviews are appreciated. Criticism is greatly accepted. Ideas are helpful.