(no subject)
[[idea spawned from this meme, our brains took it and kind of ran with it.]]
Sam left for stanford, and things kind of went downhill. Dad left him, sending him co-ordinates for hunts to do alone, hardly picking up the phone. Dean didnt do well alone, he never had. And he escaped in the way how he knw best. He screwed. It didn't fill the hole left, he was more than aware he was tail-spinning, but he didn't care. Right now, he gave not one fuck.
Then he slowly came to realise that just because Sam was gone, because he was giving him space, it didn't mean he couldn't care for him. A plan was formed. He would regularly put money away, and on the kid's (even if he wasn't a kid anymore, he always kind of would be to Dean) next birthday, he would send him a card with the account. Hopefully it would be enough by then that Sam would be able to get a better foothold then this year. Maybe it might even inspire him to pick up the goddamn phone or decide he's had a little too much space, though he's not so naive he knows the last hope is a vain one.
But even with a plan in place, it didn't make him less alone, or less lonely. and on top of that, money was getting scarce. He was good at hustling, but not quite that good; Hunting didn't pay well; he was between cards. So that night, it had only seemed yo make sense to mix pleasure and business. Except screwing for money was less fun and more dirty. But he realised he had in his hand the same as he had for two night's hustling. And paying that... well, someone enjoyed his company. He wasn't stupid enough to tell himself it had been anything more, but the money, now in the account, was enough for him to convince himself that it had been a good idea. And so it started happening a little more frequently, rates set reasonably, not so high he wouldn't get business, not so low he would only get mangy pervs. He always made sure he was careful. He didn't discriminate, either, because money was money. He just had to choke down his disgust, the crawly feeling it gave him. He had to stop himself from hunting down and shooting the guys that would punch him out and steal their money right back along with any extra he might have at the time. Then there was the guy with almost golden eyes. It was just his eyes Dean remembered. That, and he was short. It was kind of surprising he remembered anything at all, usually letting these clients's faces fade and blur into the background of repressed memories and disgust. Maybe it was just the fact he way overpaid and walked off before Dean could set him straight on that.
He never expected to see him again.
But the guy seemed to crop up anywhere and everywhere that he was working a corner. He wasn't dumb enough to let himself feel touched, but his disgust for this guy did fade away after the fourth or fifth time with him (even if he would always hate what he saw in his mirror, but that would never change). and every single time, the strange man walked away after overpaying, disappearing before Dean could point out or amend the mistake. after the next few times, he got a name, and Dean wasn't surprised to see him any more. But again, he knew what he was and knew what it was the guy was coming for. He didn't ever let himself forget that.
What did surprise him was when he was working an actual job, he came across the guy in a ring of fire.... and he didn't hesitate to let him out before asking his questions. That really did surprise him. Whatever. He met him with a flat look as he extinguished the flames. "Who and and what are you, and why have you been stalking me?"
Sam left for stanford, and things kind of went downhill. Dad left him, sending him co-ordinates for hunts to do alone, hardly picking up the phone. Dean didnt do well alone, he never had. And he escaped in the way how he knw best. He screwed. It didn't fill the hole left, he was more than aware he was tail-spinning, but he didn't care. Right now, he gave not one fuck.
Then he slowly came to realise that just because Sam was gone, because he was giving him space, it didn't mean he couldn't care for him. A plan was formed. He would regularly put money away, and on the kid's (even if he wasn't a kid anymore, he always kind of would be to Dean) next birthday, he would send him a card with the account. Hopefully it would be enough by then that Sam would be able to get a better foothold then this year. Maybe it might even inspire him to pick up the goddamn phone or decide he's had a little too much space, though he's not so naive he knows the last hope is a vain one.
But even with a plan in place, it didn't make him less alone, or less lonely. and on top of that, money was getting scarce. He was good at hustling, but not quite that good; Hunting didn't pay well; he was between cards. So that night, it had only seemed yo make sense to mix pleasure and business. Except screwing for money was less fun and more dirty. But he realised he had in his hand the same as he had for two night's hustling. And paying that... well, someone enjoyed his company. He wasn't stupid enough to tell himself it had been anything more, but the money, now in the account, was enough for him to convince himself that it had been a good idea. And so it started happening a little more frequently, rates set reasonably, not so high he wouldn't get business, not so low he would only get mangy pervs. He always made sure he was careful. He didn't discriminate, either, because money was money. He just had to choke down his disgust, the crawly feeling it gave him. He had to stop himself from hunting down and shooting the guys that would punch him out and steal their money right back along with any extra he might have at the time. Then there was the guy with almost golden eyes. It was just his eyes Dean remembered. That, and he was short. It was kind of surprising he remembered anything at all, usually letting these clients's faces fade and blur into the background of repressed memories and disgust. Maybe it was just the fact he way overpaid and walked off before Dean could set him straight on that.
He never expected to see him again.
But the guy seemed to crop up anywhere and everywhere that he was working a corner. He wasn't dumb enough to let himself feel touched, but his disgust for this guy did fade away after the fourth or fifth time with him (even if he would always hate what he saw in his mirror, but that would never change). and every single time, the strange man walked away after overpaying, disappearing before Dean could point out or amend the mistake. after the next few times, he got a name, and Dean wasn't surprised to see him any more. But again, he knew what he was and knew what it was the guy was coming for. He didn't ever let himself forget that.
What did surprise him was when he was working an actual job, he came across the guy in a ring of fire.... and he didn't hesitate to let him out before asking his questions. That really did surprise him. Whatever. He met him with a flat look as he extinguished the flames. "Who and and what are you, and why have you been stalking me?"