Just Can't Stay Put [3/?]
Title: Just Can’t Stay Put [3/?]
Author: Fox
Characters: John, Dean, & Sam
Implement: Belt
Word Count: 2,483
Summary: Ok, so I couldn’t resist: Dean finds his own ass in some serious trouble.
Author’s Notes: This is the 3rd post.
Dean laughed triumphantly as he found the bar a few miles from the motel.
"Dean, you're awesome." He murmured to himself as he locked the Impala. Nobody was getting in his baby!
When he entered the bar the loud jukebox pounded in his ears and the thick smell of smoke, puke, and raunchy women assaulted his nose.
Dean strode up to the bar like he was legally able to buy a beer and caught the bartender's attention. A big dude with who was at least 6'6" and twice as wide came over.
"Whatcha need, kid?"
"Kid?" Dean cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Flattering; a beer would be nice."
The gigantor raised an eyebrow of his own. "You got ID?"
"Of course." Dean quipped as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed over the fake ID stating his age as twenty-one.
After staring at the card for a minute the bartender shook his head as he tossed it on the bar, "A beer comin' up."
Dean knew Dad would have his ass if he knew that he was drinking but one beer wasn't going to hurt.
He'd make sure to rinse out his mouth real good.
Of course being a Winchester he should've known things wouldn't go as planned.
A chick is what really screwed things up for him, as usual. Dean used his charm and was soon buying drinks for the doll. After his third beer and sixth shot of Jack things got fuzzy.
When he cracked open his eyes again a ridiculously bright light burned his friggin' irises. Dean sat up and found himself with a half naked chick sprawled over him. Through his alcohol induced fog his brain caught up that the bright light was the sun and he was laying on the backseat of the Impala.
Oh shit
The fog cleared completely as he realized he never went back to the motel the night before and it was now the morning.
He was in deep shit.
He quickly woke the equally hung over girl laying on top of him and they sorted through clothes and righted themselves.
The chick -what was her name?- insisted that she didn't need a ride and thanked him for the lovely night as she walked off to God knows where.
Dean quickly got into the driver's seat and cranked the car. He groaned loudly and slammed his head on the steering wheel when he flipped open his cell phone and found it to be dead.
And the shit just keeps getting deeper.
SPN
It was after 10am and John Winchester was beyond tired as he scrubbed a hand over his face. His eldest son never showed his face after he sent him out so he could deal with Sam. At first he thought the kid just went for a drive but as two hours passed he became irritated.
He tried calling Dean's phone numerous times never getting an answer. That's when John became worried something happened. Dean never ignored his phone.
Unless something was wrong.
God, he just got one kid back and already the other was missing.
John tried calling again but like the last few hours it went straight to voicemail.
"Fuck, Dean." He cursed.
Sam raised his head from the pillow on the bed where John had made him lay down even though he refused to sleep, "Still can't get him?" He asked anxiously.
John shook his head and was about to get up and go look for his son, no car be damned, when he heard the familiar Impala engine.
The father barked an order for Sam to stay put while he threw open the door to see his eldest climbing out of the car.
John rushed over to Dean and after a quick once over enveloped his boy into a bone crushing hug. He was so relieved he didn't feel Dean stiffen in his arms. He let Dean go and then got a good look at his son; Dean was practically vibrating and his eyes were darting around nervously.
A red flag immediately went up in John's mind.
"Where the hell were-" John started but stopped as the wind shifted and he got a whiff of alcohol, smoke, and sex. He glanced at Dean a little closer and noticed the boy was squinting, eyes red, his clothes wrinkled and disheveled. His skin was paler than normal as well. "Dean, are you drunk?" John asked incredulously.
Dean shifted from foot to foot, "I probably was a few hours ago." He answered before his brain registered that wasn't the smartest thing to say.
John growled as he roughly grabbed Dean by the back of his neck and propelled him towards their motel room. Dean winced as Dad opened the room door, shoved him inside, and then slammed the door behind them. Out the corner of his eye he saw Sam jump at the sudden noise.
Only when the door was closed and the three Winchesters' were safely locked inside did John let go of Dean.
The boy stumbled back as he noticed the fire burning in his father's eyes.
John crossed his arms over his broad chest that he puffed up unconsciously and glared at his oldest.
"Explain." He ordered in the low, homicidal voice he usually reserved for whatever fugly of the week they were up against. "The whole story or so help me God…"
Dean took a deep breath and tried to find the balls he knew he had. He was nineteen for fuck's sake!
"I went to a bar last night," he started. No need to draw it out. "And I had a beer and that's all I was gonna have, I swear dad, but then I met this chick and I ended up drinking more." Dean gulped at the purely pissed off look he was receiving, "Well, one thing lead to another and me and this chick we, um…you know. Anyways, I woke up this morning in the Impala."
Not many things made John Winchester speechless but his son's confession seemed to do it. He had stayed up all night worried sick thinking something bad happened to his kid. Hell, he was ready to call in the reinforcements, ready to move Heaven and hell to get his boy from whatever fugly had gotten him.
"Jesus Christ, Dean!" John growled, "While me and your brother thought you were hurt somewhere you were out drinkin' and fuckin'?"
Dean winced at the bluntness but nodded, "Yes, sir."
John made some kind of noise in his throat that was something between a growl and a snort. He stared at his son and then stared to advance towards him.
Dean threw his hands out in front of himself to try and placate his father, "Dad, wait!"
John didn't wait and without a word turned Dean around and grasped his neck once again, shoving him into the bathroom. Once inside he slammed the door closed and continued to shove Dean to the sink.
Dean grunted as his stomach hit the porcelain and his hands flew out to grip the sides as he was bent over it.
"Lose the pants." John barked as he unbuckled his belt with his free hand.
Dean's headache ramped up a few notches as his heart beat wildly at the clinking sound of his dad's belt. This was not good. He pissed the man off good.
"Now, Dean!" John ordered and then hauled off and smacked Dean's ass with his hand to get him moving.
"Okay, okay!" Dean gasped, "I need my hands, you gotta let off my neck."
John let go of his neck so he could straighten up. Dean's hands immediately went to his jeans button so he didn't infuriate the man any further. Making quick work of his own belt, he got the button undone and after pushing his jeans down to his knees Dean started to put his hands back on the sink when his father's voice stopped him.
"Briefs too."
Dean looked in the mirror at John's reflection with wide eyes, "Dad, please don't make me do that."
Dad had only whipped him bare once before when he pulled a stupid stunt and defied orders on a Hunt. He had nearly gotten himself killed and that didn't sit well with John. Dad made damn sure Dean knew where he stood on the subject.
"Let's go, boy." John forced out impatiently.
Dean glanced at his father once more before moving hands to the waistband of his briefs.
While his son was doing what he was told John pulled his belt off and doubled it over, getting a firm grip on the buckle. After Dean got his briefs down John pushed him over the sink again.
Dean's hands flew to the sink to keep his head from hitting the faucet as Dad bent him over. He was panting and the alcohol was threatening to make a comeback as his stomach flipped with anxiety.
The first lick made Dean inhale sharply through his teeth while his hands gripped the sink tighter.
Fuck that hurt
John wasted no time as he landed lick after lick, raising ugly, red welts on his son's backside. He put real strength behind the strokes, letting his anger out on his kid. It wasn't only the anger that was pushing him to beat Dean; it was the fear that was feeding into rage.
Usually the nineteen-year-old was able to make it through a good amount of swats before tearing up but Dad was swinging the belt harder that he ever had before. He didn't stand a chance.
Tears rand own his face as he grunted which quickly became, Ahh's. The whole ordeal was made worse by the whoosh the belt made before making contact with his skin.
Dean quickly understood that he really screwed up and now he was paying dearly for it.
The snap the strip of leather made against his bare skin reverberated off the walls of the small bathroom echoing in Dean's ears.
Whoosh. Snap.
Whoosh. Snap.
Whoosh. Snap
"Dad! Dad, stop!" Dean choked out. "Ah, shit. Please!" The pain was too much, pain he hadn’t felt before, and he was scared Dad wasn't going to stop swinging.
John laid five more blistering stripes before stopping. He took a step back from his boy breathing like a bull, "Don't you ever pull that shit again, boy. Do. You. Understand?" He growled harshly.
"Yes, s-sir." Dean answered through sobs.
"Get in the shower. You smell like a goddamn bar."
John left Dean in the bathroom still leaning over the sink and gasping. He threw his belt down on the bed and snagged the Impala's keys before turning to a teary eyed Sam.
"Don't you dare leave this room, you got me?"
"Yes, sir." Sam squeaked.
Sam sat shocked on the bed even after Dad stormed out the door slamming it behind him.
Dean composed himself enough to stand up and close the bathroom door to take the shower that was ordered.
As he was tugging off his shirt the swirling alcohol in Dean's belly decided it was a good time to make its presence known. He hunched over the toilet and let the amber liquid spew out of him in a stupid amount of volume.
Damn, did he really drink that much?
SPN
John didn't get five miles down the road before he jerked the Impala to the shoulder, slamming the gear into park.
He turned the ignition off and only then after the car was still and quiet did he realize he was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking.
God, what did he just do to his boy?
John had never lost his cool when disciplining one of his kids. Usually if he was too mad he'd send which ever kid out of his sight until he could deal with him.
Obviously the fear of losing one of his babies hadn't completely receded. It was still wrapped around his heart, squeezing painfully tight and threatening what little sanity he had left.
John barely got the car door open before he barfed on the side of the street.
"Goddammit, Winchester!" He barked at himself as he slammed the door shut.
He had to go back to set things straight with his eldest son.
SPN
Dean stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist wincing as he moved. The water pelting against his ass in the shower had almost been unbearable.
He kept his head down unable to look at Sam knowing his little brother heard everything. Dean really messed up this time and Dad probably didn't trust him anymore. He hated to disappoint his father, it made him feel worthless.
"Dean?" A small voice brought him back to reality as he glanced over to his little brother. The kid was standing stiff with his sad puppy eyes glistening. "You ok?"
"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean answered hoarsely.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine, Sam!" Dean snapped and then stomped back to the bathroom.
Jesus, why couldn't the kid just let him be? 'Cause he just heard Dad go postal on your ass, idiot. Dean groaned at his own stupidity as he pushed off the door to get dressed.
The apology Dean had ready died on his lips when he opened the bathroom door to an empty motel room.
"Sammy?" No answer. "Sammy!"
Dean panicked as he pulled on his boots. He had to find the kid before Dad got back. He didn't even want to think what he'd do to Sam if he didn't find him first. What the hell was Sam thinking? Dean couldn't believe his brother left again after what he just witnessed. Evidently his little brother had lost his damn mind.
Dean grabbed his jacket and charged outside only to trip over stupidly long legs; legs that were thankfully attached to his kid brother.
"Dean," Sam asked, "what's wrong?"
Dean pulled the much needed oxygen in his lungs before he could answer. Thank you, God. "I thought you gave us the slip again." Dean answered as he righted himself.
"I'm not that stupid, Dean." Sam scoffed, letting his brother know just what he thought about his comment.
"I don't know, Sammy." Dean grinned. "I think the jury is still out on that one."
"Jerk." Came the automatic response.
"Bitch." The automatic reply. Dean let a few moments of silence go by before sighing and laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I didn't mean to bite your head off earlier, I just-"
"It's ok, Dean." Sam reassured with a smile and that's all it took.
Tears threatened to spill at Sam's simple words. His little brother was always willing to forgive no matter what Dean did. He loved the kid.
Any response Dean might have had was stopped by the familiar sound of the Impala's engine roaring into the parking lot.
Author: Fox
Characters: John, Dean, & Sam
Implement: Belt
Word Count: 2,483
Summary: Ok, so I couldn’t resist: Dean finds his own ass in some serious trouble.
Author’s Notes: This is the 3rd post.
Dean laughed triumphantly as he found the bar a few miles from the motel.
"Dean, you're awesome." He murmured to himself as he locked the Impala. Nobody was getting in his baby!
When he entered the bar the loud jukebox pounded in his ears and the thick smell of smoke, puke, and raunchy women assaulted his nose.
Dean strode up to the bar like he was legally able to buy a beer and caught the bartender's attention. A big dude with who was at least 6'6" and twice as wide came over.
"Whatcha need, kid?"
"Kid?" Dean cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Flattering; a beer would be nice."
The gigantor raised an eyebrow of his own. "You got ID?"
"Of course." Dean quipped as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed over the fake ID stating his age as twenty-one.
After staring at the card for a minute the bartender shook his head as he tossed it on the bar, "A beer comin' up."
Dean knew Dad would have his ass if he knew that he was drinking but one beer wasn't going to hurt.
He'd make sure to rinse out his mouth real good.
Of course being a Winchester he should've known things wouldn't go as planned.
A chick is what really screwed things up for him, as usual. Dean used his charm and was soon buying drinks for the doll. After his third beer and sixth shot of Jack things got fuzzy.
When he cracked open his eyes again a ridiculously bright light burned his friggin' irises. Dean sat up and found himself with a half naked chick sprawled over him. Through his alcohol induced fog his brain caught up that the bright light was the sun and he was laying on the backseat of the Impala.
Oh shit
The fog cleared completely as he realized he never went back to the motel the night before and it was now the morning.
He was in deep shit.
He quickly woke the equally hung over girl laying on top of him and they sorted through clothes and righted themselves.
The chick -what was her name?- insisted that she didn't need a ride and thanked him for the lovely night as she walked off to God knows where.
Dean quickly got into the driver's seat and cranked the car. He groaned loudly and slammed his head on the steering wheel when he flipped open his cell phone and found it to be dead.
And the shit just keeps getting deeper.
SPN
It was after 10am and John Winchester was beyond tired as he scrubbed a hand over his face. His eldest son never showed his face after he sent him out so he could deal with Sam. At first he thought the kid just went for a drive but as two hours passed he became irritated.
He tried calling Dean's phone numerous times never getting an answer. That's when John became worried something happened. Dean never ignored his phone.
Unless something was wrong.
God, he just got one kid back and already the other was missing.
John tried calling again but like the last few hours it went straight to voicemail.
"Fuck, Dean." He cursed.
Sam raised his head from the pillow on the bed where John had made him lay down even though he refused to sleep, "Still can't get him?" He asked anxiously.
John shook his head and was about to get up and go look for his son, no car be damned, when he heard the familiar Impala engine.
The father barked an order for Sam to stay put while he threw open the door to see his eldest climbing out of the car.
John rushed over to Dean and after a quick once over enveloped his boy into a bone crushing hug. He was so relieved he didn't feel Dean stiffen in his arms. He let Dean go and then got a good look at his son; Dean was practically vibrating and his eyes were darting around nervously.
A red flag immediately went up in John's mind.
"Where the hell were-" John started but stopped as the wind shifted and he got a whiff of alcohol, smoke, and sex. He glanced at Dean a little closer and noticed the boy was squinting, eyes red, his clothes wrinkled and disheveled. His skin was paler than normal as well. "Dean, are you drunk?" John asked incredulously.
Dean shifted from foot to foot, "I probably was a few hours ago." He answered before his brain registered that wasn't the smartest thing to say.
John growled as he roughly grabbed Dean by the back of his neck and propelled him towards their motel room. Dean winced as Dad opened the room door, shoved him inside, and then slammed the door behind them. Out the corner of his eye he saw Sam jump at the sudden noise.
Only when the door was closed and the three Winchesters' were safely locked inside did John let go of Dean.
The boy stumbled back as he noticed the fire burning in his father's eyes.
John crossed his arms over his broad chest that he puffed up unconsciously and glared at his oldest.
"Explain." He ordered in the low, homicidal voice he usually reserved for whatever fugly of the week they were up against. "The whole story or so help me God…"
Dean took a deep breath and tried to find the balls he knew he had. He was nineteen for fuck's sake!
"I went to a bar last night," he started. No need to draw it out. "And I had a beer and that's all I was gonna have, I swear dad, but then I met this chick and I ended up drinking more." Dean gulped at the purely pissed off look he was receiving, "Well, one thing lead to another and me and this chick we, um…you know. Anyways, I woke up this morning in the Impala."
Not many things made John Winchester speechless but his son's confession seemed to do it. He had stayed up all night worried sick thinking something bad happened to his kid. Hell, he was ready to call in the reinforcements, ready to move Heaven and hell to get his boy from whatever fugly had gotten him.
"Jesus Christ, Dean!" John growled, "While me and your brother thought you were hurt somewhere you were out drinkin' and fuckin'?"
Dean winced at the bluntness but nodded, "Yes, sir."
John made some kind of noise in his throat that was something between a growl and a snort. He stared at his son and then stared to advance towards him.
Dean threw his hands out in front of himself to try and placate his father, "Dad, wait!"
John didn't wait and without a word turned Dean around and grasped his neck once again, shoving him into the bathroom. Once inside he slammed the door closed and continued to shove Dean to the sink.
Dean grunted as his stomach hit the porcelain and his hands flew out to grip the sides as he was bent over it.
"Lose the pants." John barked as he unbuckled his belt with his free hand.
Dean's headache ramped up a few notches as his heart beat wildly at the clinking sound of his dad's belt. This was not good. He pissed the man off good.
"Now, Dean!" John ordered and then hauled off and smacked Dean's ass with his hand to get him moving.
"Okay, okay!" Dean gasped, "I need my hands, you gotta let off my neck."
John let go of his neck so he could straighten up. Dean's hands immediately went to his jeans button so he didn't infuriate the man any further. Making quick work of his own belt, he got the button undone and after pushing his jeans down to his knees Dean started to put his hands back on the sink when his father's voice stopped him.
"Briefs too."
Dean looked in the mirror at John's reflection with wide eyes, "Dad, please don't make me do that."
Dad had only whipped him bare once before when he pulled a stupid stunt and defied orders on a Hunt. He had nearly gotten himself killed and that didn't sit well with John. Dad made damn sure Dean knew where he stood on the subject.
"Let's go, boy." John forced out impatiently.
Dean glanced at his father once more before moving hands to the waistband of his briefs.
While his son was doing what he was told John pulled his belt off and doubled it over, getting a firm grip on the buckle. After Dean got his briefs down John pushed him over the sink again.
Dean's hands flew to the sink to keep his head from hitting the faucet as Dad bent him over. He was panting and the alcohol was threatening to make a comeback as his stomach flipped with anxiety.
The first lick made Dean inhale sharply through his teeth while his hands gripped the sink tighter.
Fuck that hurt
John wasted no time as he landed lick after lick, raising ugly, red welts on his son's backside. He put real strength behind the strokes, letting his anger out on his kid. It wasn't only the anger that was pushing him to beat Dean; it was the fear that was feeding into rage.
Usually the nineteen-year-old was able to make it through a good amount of swats before tearing up but Dad was swinging the belt harder that he ever had before. He didn't stand a chance.
Tears rand own his face as he grunted which quickly became, Ahh's. The whole ordeal was made worse by the whoosh the belt made before making contact with his skin.
Dean quickly understood that he really screwed up and now he was paying dearly for it.
The snap the strip of leather made against his bare skin reverberated off the walls of the small bathroom echoing in Dean's ears.
Whoosh. Snap.
Whoosh. Snap.
Whoosh. Snap
"Dad! Dad, stop!" Dean choked out. "Ah, shit. Please!" The pain was too much, pain he hadn’t felt before, and he was scared Dad wasn't going to stop swinging.
John laid five more blistering stripes before stopping. He took a step back from his boy breathing like a bull, "Don't you ever pull that shit again, boy. Do. You. Understand?" He growled harshly.
"Yes, s-sir." Dean answered through sobs.
"Get in the shower. You smell like a goddamn bar."
John left Dean in the bathroom still leaning over the sink and gasping. He threw his belt down on the bed and snagged the Impala's keys before turning to a teary eyed Sam.
"Don't you dare leave this room, you got me?"
"Yes, sir." Sam squeaked.
Sam sat shocked on the bed even after Dad stormed out the door slamming it behind him.
Dean composed himself enough to stand up and close the bathroom door to take the shower that was ordered.
As he was tugging off his shirt the swirling alcohol in Dean's belly decided it was a good time to make its presence known. He hunched over the toilet and let the amber liquid spew out of him in a stupid amount of volume.
Damn, did he really drink that much?
SPN
John didn't get five miles down the road before he jerked the Impala to the shoulder, slamming the gear into park.
He turned the ignition off and only then after the car was still and quiet did he realize he was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking.
God, what did he just do to his boy?
John had never lost his cool when disciplining one of his kids. Usually if he was too mad he'd send which ever kid out of his sight until he could deal with him.
Obviously the fear of losing one of his babies hadn't completely receded. It was still wrapped around his heart, squeezing painfully tight and threatening what little sanity he had left.
John barely got the car door open before he barfed on the side of the street.
"Goddammit, Winchester!" He barked at himself as he slammed the door shut.
He had to go back to set things straight with his eldest son.
SPN
Dean stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist wincing as he moved. The water pelting against his ass in the shower had almost been unbearable.
He kept his head down unable to look at Sam knowing his little brother heard everything. Dean really messed up this time and Dad probably didn't trust him anymore. He hated to disappoint his father, it made him feel worthless.
"Dean?" A small voice brought him back to reality as he glanced over to his little brother. The kid was standing stiff with his sad puppy eyes glistening. "You ok?"
"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean answered hoarsely.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine, Sam!" Dean snapped and then stomped back to the bathroom.
Jesus, why couldn't the kid just let him be? 'Cause he just heard Dad go postal on your ass, idiot. Dean groaned at his own stupidity as he pushed off the door to get dressed.
The apology Dean had ready died on his lips when he opened the bathroom door to an empty motel room.
"Sammy?" No answer. "Sammy!"
Dean panicked as he pulled on his boots. He had to find the kid before Dad got back. He didn't even want to think what he'd do to Sam if he didn't find him first. What the hell was Sam thinking? Dean couldn't believe his brother left again after what he just witnessed. Evidently his little brother had lost his damn mind.
Dean grabbed his jacket and charged outside only to trip over stupidly long legs; legs that were thankfully attached to his kid brother.
"Dean," Sam asked, "what's wrong?"
Dean pulled the much needed oxygen in his lungs before he could answer. Thank you, God. "I thought you gave us the slip again." Dean answered as he righted himself.
"I'm not that stupid, Dean." Sam scoffed, letting his brother know just what he thought about his comment.
"I don't know, Sammy." Dean grinned. "I think the jury is still out on that one."
"Jerk." Came the automatic response.
"Bitch." The automatic reply. Dean let a few moments of silence go by before sighing and laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I didn't mean to bite your head off earlier, I just-"
"It's ok, Dean." Sam reassured with a smile and that's all it took.
Tears threatened to spill at Sam's simple words. His little brother was always willing to forgive no matter what Dean did. He loved the kid.
Any response Dean might have had was stopped by the familiar sound of the Impala's engine roaring into the parking lot.