Author's Note/Disclaimer- So, I can't find a lot of Sunny fic, and this was mostly inspired by someone's fandom secret on livejournal. I've always thought about it myself, and so here it is. None of the characters belong to me!

Charlie Bangs Sweet Dee

Dee is drunk again. On a Tuesday night. She stumbles into the bar and greets them all with a slurred "What's up, assholes?" before pouring herself a shot of vodka and knocking it back.

"Jesus Deandra, maybe if you took better care of yourself you could find a man." Frank says, lining up his shot on the pool table.

"Seriously Dee, Tuesday? Real classy sis. How many drinks have you had?"

"Since when do any of you care?" She wobbles around the bar on her heels, and falls against Mac before she makes it to the table.

"Since you've been out every night and we have no bartender." Dennis misses his shot, and turns to her. "God you reek of alcohol. Just go home Dee."

"Oh go to hell Dennis. All of you!" she screams, "Can just go to hell!"

She's falling in her heels still, so she wrenches them off of her feet and grabs her purse before storming out, and hears Frank say something like "Your sister is a drunken whore." as she slams the door.

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She fails to notice that her apartment door is already cracked open when she gets home, but Charlie standing in the middle of her kitchen with a flashlight gets her attention.

"I wasn't looking for money!"

"What do you want Charlie?" she throws her shoes at him and drops her bag on the floor, opening the fridge and groping around mindlessly for a bottle of water.

"Come to mock the poor, drunken, whore girl who can't get a boyfriend? Hmm? Is that what you're here for?"

"Jesus Dee, no, I-"

"What? You what? Were you looking for me?" She stumbles forward and lets the bottle of water roll across the counter. She's slightly taller than Charlie, and she has him backed against the counter, looking slightly alarmed.

"Think maybe because I'm just a drunk slut that I'll have sex with you since no one else will? Is that it?" She grabs him, palming him none too gently through his jeans and he jerks violently.

"Ohhhhhh my god Dee what the fuck are you doing." He groans, running all the words together.

"Aw but don't you like it? Isn't this what you wanted? You want to fuck the alcoholic slut?" She's mocking him, her tone so self-deprecating, still grinding her palm hard and slow against him. She leans in close, and he can smell alcohol and sweat, and he's already way too hard.

"Oh but you probably don't want to, because I am just Dennis's whore sister."

Charlie grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her backwards against the table. She stumbles and nearly falls, catching herself on a chair and laughing horribly. She is so drunk, and her head is spinning pleasantly. She sits on the edge of the table, tipping forwards, and closes her eyes slightly.

But Charlie is there suddenly, and grabs at her waist.

"What the fuck Charlie…" she murmurs tiredly.

"Get your fucking pants off. Like now." He's messing with her jeans, popping the button and trying to get them down over her hips.

"I was joking…"

"Not anymore." And he pulls them down violently.

"Charlie!" It's still dark in the apartment and she hears his belt buckle, sees him hopping out of his own pants and underwear. She starts to raise her hands but he grabs them before she can do anything, and forces her to lean back, pushing her legs apart with his free hand. He holds her hands above her head and is gripping her wrists so hard that it hurts.

She quits caring when he enters her, and tries to ignore his loud groan. She's drunk, and any sex is still at least sex, in her book. It's dark enough to pretend she isn't fucking Charlie Kelly, and so she hooks her legs around his waist and grinds shamelessly against him as he thrusts into her. He knows nothing but hard and fast apparently, and Dee feels like her cunt is going to be bruised in the morning, if her wrists aren't at least. But God it feels good right now. Her crappy kitchen table creaks underneath of them and she worries momentarily that it might just fall apart, but it holds.

It doesn't take long for Charlie to come, and he does with a shout and a few harder, jerky movements. She follows seconds later, arching her back up off the table and crying out.

Charlie pulls out of her, looking horrified, and grabs his pants. He barely gets them on before he is out the door, leaving his flashlight abandoned and forgotten on the kitchen floor.

Dee pushes herself up off of the table and crawls into bed. She wakes up with a massive headache, pukes a couple of times, and pulls on the same jeans from the night before and heads into Paddy's.

They're all sitting around the bar, minus Charlie, and they all turn as soon as they hear the door open. When she doesn't say anything, Mac opens his mouth.

"Soooooooo, you banged Charlie?"