because I love you, have some more.
Title: Vindicated [3/5]
Fandom: Speed Racer/Supernatural
Pairing: Speed/Dean, Sam/Dean, Speed/X
Length: About 17.5k
Rating: NC-17 for sex and minor violence, and Dean has a truly filthy mouth. In this part, buttsex. \o/
Notes: Check part one.
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five
“Well, shit,” Dean said eventually, breathlessly, smiling lazily across at Speed, still propped up against the 5 because yeah, both of them really were too lazy to move. His fingers trailed patterns on the floor, staining the stone with wet marks from his sweat.
“Mmmhmm,” Speed agreed, yawning, and curled up against him, his eyes watching him carefully. “You gonna run off on me now?”
Dean smiled. “Me?” He laughed. “Naw, never.”
Speed shrugged. “You seem the type.”
Dean decided to dodge that, hideously unsubtly. “How’d I guess you were the snuggling type?” Dean grumbled at Speed’s head on his shoulder, his body curled in a little ball beside him.
“What’re you thinking?” Speed yawned, his eyes fluttering closed, and Dean smiled, shaking his head.
“Nothing,” he murmured softly, watching him fall asleep, pressing his lips to the top of his head. “Just that I might be around a lot longer than I thought I would be.”
Dean had carried them back into Speed’s room, pushing Speed onto the bed and slumping down on it soon after himself, exhausted, and must’ve crashed out, ‘cause he came to with Speed sat on a chair on the other side of the room, flipping a model car between his fingers. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and winced at the weird position he’d crashed in. He watched Speed for a while, itching to change out of his grubby jeans, noticing Speed had swapped his own for loose-fitting tracksuits. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Speed spun the car around again.
“I’m not normally the type for caring, and sharing, but…”
Speed sighed and put the car back down. “It’s my brother,” he murmured. “I just, I miss him.”
“Oh,” Dean said softly. Then he frowned, “oh, oh, okay.”
“Wait - no!” Speed looked at him, horrified. “No, not like that! He’s my brother!” He scowled for a moment, shaking his head, then sighed. “You’re so not like him. It’s kinda painful.”
“Sorry.” Dean shifted uneasily. He didn’t want Speed to know about Sammy, not now, God, he’d think he was a freak… He shook his head. It matters, Dean? Since when?
“No… it’s not your fault.” He sighed. “It’s just, I dunno, I kinda wanted… well, let’s just say I didn’t want to spend the evening angsting.”
Dean let a smile curl around his lips. “You don’t have to.”
“Don’t you dare say ‘the night is young’.” Speed stood and came across the room, standing in front of him.
“Mmm, Iunno,” Dean murmured, pressing his lips above Speed’s navel, and Speed’s breath hitched. “It’s tempting.” He put his hands on Speed’s hips, his eyes gazing up at him. “You’re tempting.” Speed leant down and he kissed him again, sliding his hand into gelled hair, poofy and really quite awesome. Nothing like Sam’s. Nothing. His hands rested on his hips under his shirt, fingers pressing into the bone, lower than his, nothing like Sam’s. Maybe it’s okay to fuck people who aren’t Sam. He did leave me.
He fucking left me.
Dean growled, grabbed onto Speed’s hips and slammed into the kiss.
Speed moaned against his mouth, fingers working on Dean’s messed-up jeans, forgoing the shoes and causing knots around his ankles which Dean had to pry off. Speed slipped out of the tracksuits ridiculously easily, pulled off the baggy jumper easier, and Dean took the moment to kiss his stomach, lick and writhe and press Speed into the bed, moaning like a slut, tossing his head back, gazing at him with wide, blown eyes. Speed tossed restlessly, weaved his fingers into Dean’s shirt, tugged it clear, kicked off his boxers, and yes, about fucking time. He pushed Speed onto the bed, ran his fingers down his spine, shivered and licked his collarbone.
heleftmeheleftmeheleftmeheleftme
He pushed a slick finger inside Speed’s ass and he cried out, arcing up against him, moving his legs out further, grinding down onto Dean, his breath going crazy as vocabulary deserted him. Chances were he wasn’t the first to do this, but further?
Hmm.
He pushed in a second, crooked it and Speed’s breath hitched, moaning, grinding down against him, hissing and gasping. When his finger rubbed Speed’s prostate and the kid shrieked like the world was falling down Dean concluded that yeah, nothing much further. Speed was cursing and garbling beneath him, nails clutching and breaking convulsively on the sheets, wrenching great fistfuls and Dean was really, really staring at Speed’s hands, flexing his own fingers, the breath crushed out of him by the sheer tightness wrapped wetly around his fingers. He wanted to make it soft and safe, tell Speed what he was doing, but
heleftmeheleftmewhatdidIdowrong,Sam?
he couldn’t fuck Speed thinking of Sam, he couldn’t, no - Speed was different, Goddammit, no matter how much he reminded him of his baby brother. He leant down, kissed Speed, pressed a third finger inside and said his name against his lips, slowly and carefully. “Speed,” he whispered. “Speed.” Speed looked up at him with fluttering eyes, expression torn, mouth slack and panting, the vaguest hint of a smile. He mouthed against his temples, aligned their hips and pushed inside, Speed calling out, his back spasming, his fingers shredding the sheets, mouth agape in horror. Dean pulled out, pushed back in, fucked him hard, didn’t wait for him to get used to it, overloaded him with the pleasure, slammed along his prostate, fucked him so hard they ended up pressed against the wall, Speed’s legs wrapped around his waist, his blissed-out face staring incoherently at the ceiling, eyes often sliding incredulously to Dean’s face, almost like he wasn’t seeing him, like it was too good to be true. Speed came silently, too overloaded, too fucked to say anything, just clamped down hot and tight and spurted across him, his whole body staying tense as Dean fucked him, and yeah, he was crying. He was fucked off he hadn’t used a condom, fucked off he’d ruined the kid’s first time, fucked off it wasn’t Sammy, fucked off it was Speed, fucked off Sam had ruined everything for him, forever. He said Speed’s name when he came, not Sam’s, for the first time in a very long time and slumped down on the bed with Speed, who blinked at him through wrecked eyes. He seemed to contemplate him for a second, muse on the violation Dean had just caused, before pressing up against him, slinging an arm across his chest and resting his head, sliding off to sleep.
“Hey.”
Dean propped himself up, looked Speed over once and rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Hey.” He sighed. “M’sorry. I kinda flipped out.”
Speed shrugged. “’Cause I didn’t lead you on at all. Or want it, from the second you rolled out from under your car.” He walked over from the doorway and winced as he sat down, hissing. “Okay, maybe that aspect of things I’m not so happy about.” He looked out of the window.
“I could… look,” Dean said lamely. “I mean - ”
“It’s okay,” Speed said blandly. “It won’t last long. I mean, eventually I guess it’ll be good. Something to remember you by.”
Dean froze. “You think… I’m leaving, just because I got what I wanted?”
“It’s your style.”
“Normally.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But.”
“But?”
“No. Not this time.”
Dean was true to his word, and didn’t leave for a long time.
Pops didn’t have his balls, not for want of trying, or chasing him round the kitchen yelling like a madman.
“Trust me,” Speed murmured into his neck, fingers caressing the small of his back, before rocking back onto his toes and smiling sweetly. “There’s nothing more perfect than a picnic at Thunderhead.”
“I don’t know, Speed,” Dean sighed as he tugged the bag out of the boot of the 5, walking into the grounds of the track. “I can think of better ways to spend the afternoon.”
Speed laughed, handing his pass to the guard on the gate. “Who says we won’t get round to them?” They camped out in the observers’ box; the windows were floor-to-ceiling, and caught the pleasant, autumn light. Dean used the bag as a pillow, stretching out across the floor and watching the pristine sky. Speed was sat crosslegged to one side, and their little fingers touched, hands hanging loosely around their bodies. “I can tell you’re not one for the whole family thing,” Speed said softly, his other hand tracing across the carpet.
“You’d be right,” Dean murmured, his eyes closed.
“But Sam?”
He cracked open an eye. “Sam’s different.”
“Did you never do… anything like this?” Speed gestured around him, at the sunny afternoon, at the quiet intimacy of time spent together.
“Most of my childhood was orders and watch out for Sam, boy!” Dean snorted. “It didn’t leave much room for all this shit.”
Speed stood up suddenly, holding out a hand to Dean. “C’mon, pack the stuff back in the bag. I wanna show you something.” He smiled. “Come on!”
Dean scowled for the fiftieth time, shaking his head. “This is the stupidest idea, like, ever.”
Speed laughed as he climbed into the cockpit of the 6, on top of Dean, and settled in his lap. “You mentioned.”
“This is so uncomfortable,” Dean wheezed, the air virtually squashed out of his lungs. Speed tutted, shifting back against him, pressing his back flat to Dean’s chest and letting his head fall back happily.
“I wanna do something for you, Dean,” Speed said softly. “Let me do this.” He punched the 6 alive, and Dean was very, very happy Speed had as much control from the squashed position he did, because the second they pulled out onto the track Dean was petrified, pressing himself back in the seat. “Trust me, Dean,” Speed said softly. “Trust me.” Dean breathed deep, and Speed guided him round a lap, then another, then another, and they lost the afternoon.
They walked into the house with smiles on their faces and Mom responded with one of her own, broader but not as genuine. “You boys have fun today?”
“Yeah,” Speed grinned, casting a look at Dean. “Dean drove.”
Pops nearly had an aneurism. “He did what?!”
Speed laughed, shaking his head. “I told you he’d react like this,” Dean murmured.
“It’s okay, Pops. Dean… Dean, well, he’s awesome.” Speed smiled over at him, and Dean ducked his head, grumbling to himself.
They sat in Speed’s room, Dean on the bed, Speed perched on a chair nearby. “I told you not to tell them,” Dean muttered, smiling, and Speed shook his head and laughed.
Dean was twirling his phone in his fingers, and Speed sighed, shaking his head. “Just call them, Dean. I mean, calling won’t hurt.”
“I’m not calling Sammy,” Dean blurted out in a rush, then blushed furiously. “I mean, I’ll call Dad, he did…” Dean paused, realising how long it’d been since he’d spoken to his Dad, and how weird it was for his Dad to ask for help. He suddenly felt very sick and whipped his phone up to his ear, furiously calling the number.
Answerphone.
Shit.
“What is it?” Speed said softly, standing up as Dean paced frantically around the room, dialling and redialling and redialling again for good measure.
“He’s not answering the phone,” Dean snapped, rubbing his eyes.
“Maybe he’s just busy - ”
“No, Speed!” Dean shouted, coming to a frantic stop in the middle of the room, trembling slightly. “He never has his phone off, not ever.” He walked over to Speed’s closet where, for the sake of things, he’d shipped in his clothes from the Impala, and began frantically packing a duffel. Speed was frozen in the middle of the room, his hands clenched into fists, and Dean turned to him, swinging his bag onto his back. “I’m sorry, Speed,” he said, and honestly, he meant it. “They’re all I’ve got, and if something’s happened to Dad, I have to - I have to, I mean, he could be - and Sam - ”
Speed shook his head, walking forward and kissed him softly. “It’s okay, Dean,” he murmured, looking up at him. “No, really. Go make sure they’re okay.”
Dean marched across the house into the garage, stowing his clothes in the trunk, and the Racers draggled into the doorway, watching the two of them. “Is everything okay?” Mom asked quietly, peering between Speed and Dean.
“Yeah,” Speed said with a smile. “It’s just something’s happened in Dean’s family, and he needs to go sort it out.”
“Right,” she replied, and they retreated warily out of sight. The Impala had been fixed for months now, and Dean opened the driver’s door before turning to look at Speed. Dean kissed him again, stepping back for a moment, shaking his head.
“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.
Speed shook his head, ran his hand down Dean’s arm. “Honestly? I thought you would have packed up and left a long time before this.”
“That makes two of us.” Speed smiled.
“Let me know when you find them, okay?” Dean leant in for another kiss, soft and chaste. He climbed into the car and reversed out of the drive, his eyes on Speed in the wing mirror all the way. Sam’s across state, at college. That’s where he’ll start.
-
---
-
Sam’s walking up to him with a bagel clasped in each hand, and Dean flips his phone away from his ear, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “Who was that?” his brother asks when he reaches him, handing him the one in his right.
“No one,” Dean says, taking a bite. When Sam looks sceptical, Dean rolls his eyes and sighs. “Bobby, wondering if you’d managed to get laid by anyone other than me recently.”
Sam cuffs him with a gigantor hand. “Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head and climbing in the car.
Speed puts down the phone, smiling to himself behind his hand. “Who was it, sweetheart?” Mom calls from the kitchen, sticking her head round the doorframe.
“Dean,” he replies, walking in to see her. “Giving an update.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You will not believe what Sam did last night.”
-
---
-
“Bobby,” Dean said suddenly, turning to face him. “Did you say you had a job going in San Francisco?”
“Yeah,” Bobby frowned, glancing over. “I was saving it for someone. Why?”
“Can we take it?” Bobby looked over to Sam, as if seeking clarification, but Sam shrugged.
“Sure,” Bobby replied, shaking his head. “The file’s on the dresser.”
Sam was looking at him with nothing more than scepticism as they sat in the car, Dean drumming on the wheel, a smile as big as the world plastered all over his face. “You gonna explain yourself?”
“Nope,” Dean grinned.
Sam shook his head. His brother was a complete fucking mystery.
Speed burst into the room, smiling and radiant, and Mom looked up, an eyebrow raised. “What is it, darling?”
“It’s Dean,” he said in a rush, beaming. “He’s coming back.”
They rolled up to the household, Sam still none-the-wiser. He still looked incredulous as they climbed out, looking around the garage. “Since when do you have friends?”
“I’m a very sociable person, Sammy,” Dean beamed, lugging out a duffel from the trunk. A kid appeared in the doorway - well, he was probably about Sam’s age, but Sam was a giant. His eyes went straight to Dean and he brightened, his spine stiffening, his mouth stretching ecstatically. “Speed,” Dean murmured, walking over with a smile.
“It’s good to see you again, Dean,” Speed replied - nice name, Sam thought sceptically - and Sam’s stomach plummeted.
Oh.
One of those friendships.
A woman appeared in the doorway and greeted Dean like a long-lost son, all smiles and hugs and teary eyes. “Dean,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too,” Dean said, grinning.
“What brings you here?” another guy asked, tall, thin, older than Speed.
“Business, I’m afraid,” Dean said with a shrug, and Sam’s eyes widened. They knew about what they did? “But there’s no reason not to mix business and pleasure, is there?”
“Absolutely not,” Speed murmured, and Dean winked down at him.
“Come on in,” the woman said, gesturing at the doorway behind them. “You must have been driving for hours.”
They began to trickle back through the door, and Dean looked over at Sam, standing like a dork by the Impala, and nodded for him to come, staring like he was a madman. “This, by the way, is my baby brother Sammy,” he grinned, slapping Sam on the shoulder as they accumulated in the kitchen.
Their faces lit up with understanding, and the woman looked over with a smile. “Oh, we’ve heard all about you, Sam.”
This did not bode well.
“Sammy, this is Mom, Pops, Sparky and Spritle Racer.”
Sam was so in over his head.
They were in the guest bedroom - something Dean seemed surprised about - and unpacking their stuff, and Sam shook his head. “Dean, who are these people?”
“Just good friends,” Dean muttered, pacing over to the ensuite to brush his teeth. “I told you that.”
“But Dean, since when have good friends treated you like family?”
Dean shook his head, sitting down on the bed beside Sam’s. “They’re no one special, Sam, they’re just some people I stayed with while you were at college.”
“When?”
Dean looked up at the question, frowning. “What is this, twenty questions? Just before I came to get you, I think.”
Sam stared at the floor. “You told me you were working a job in New Orleans.”
“So I lied. It’s not the first time, Sammy. What’s the big deal?”
Since when do you stay with people, anyway? Sam wondered, but didn’t say anything. He knew well enough the time after him leaving was horrible enough for Dean, without dragging Dad and family into the mix. “Night,” he said softly, and though they both lay down to sleep, it was a handful of minutes before Dean was slipping out of the room with a soft click.
One of those friendships, Sam thought bitterly, and pulled the covers over his head.
Sam wandered into the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door softly and glancing around. Mom was quietly cooking but the table was empty; he paced over and slid in, scratching the back of his head. “Good morning,” she murmured as she walked over, placing a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Did you sleep well?”
Sam nodded distractedly as Speed and Dean emerged quite obviously from Speed’s room, laughing, Dean reaching down to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Morning, Sammy!” he smiled, sitting down next to him, followed by Speed. “Wow, Mom, I don’t know, I travel the length and breadth of the States and no one can quite make me get up in the morning like you can.” Mom smiled beatifically as she sat down two plates, shaking her head.
“Dean,” she laughed, her voice chiding. “I’m sure that can’t be true.”
“Well…” Dean looked beside him at Speed, winking, and Speed blushed furiously, tucking into his breakfast.
“Dean,” Sam said quickly, interrupting him before he could start off more canoodling with Speed. “I was thinking we might head over to the library today, start knocking up some research on the case.”
Dean’s smile froze on his face and he blinked at Sam. “Well, I’ve kinda made plans for this afternoon, do you mind doing it without me?” He glanced at Speed before looking back over to Sam. “C’mon, you love that library stuff, you always complain I get in the way.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam said hollowly, putting down his fork. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab a shower, okay?”
“Sure,” Dean replied as Sam stood up, but he was looking at Speed, muttering something in his ear that made Speed blush and laugh. The towel in Sam’s hand was fraying by the time he entered the shower, his grip tightening with every laugh.
Part Four
Fandom: Speed Racer/Supernatural
Pairing: Speed/Dean, Sam/Dean, Speed/X
Length: About 17.5k
Rating: NC-17 for sex and minor violence, and Dean has a truly filthy mouth. In this part, buttsex. \o/
Notes: Check part one.
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five
“Well, shit,” Dean said eventually, breathlessly, smiling lazily across at Speed, still propped up against the 5 because yeah, both of them really were too lazy to move. His fingers trailed patterns on the floor, staining the stone with wet marks from his sweat.
“Mmmhmm,” Speed agreed, yawning, and curled up against him, his eyes watching him carefully. “You gonna run off on me now?”
Dean smiled. “Me?” He laughed. “Naw, never.”
Speed shrugged. “You seem the type.”
Dean decided to dodge that, hideously unsubtly. “How’d I guess you were the snuggling type?” Dean grumbled at Speed’s head on his shoulder, his body curled in a little ball beside him.
“What’re you thinking?” Speed yawned, his eyes fluttering closed, and Dean smiled, shaking his head.
“Nothing,” he murmured softly, watching him fall asleep, pressing his lips to the top of his head. “Just that I might be around a lot longer than I thought I would be.”
Dean had carried them back into Speed’s room, pushing Speed onto the bed and slumping down on it soon after himself, exhausted, and must’ve crashed out, ‘cause he came to with Speed sat on a chair on the other side of the room, flipping a model car between his fingers. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and winced at the weird position he’d crashed in. He watched Speed for a while, itching to change out of his grubby jeans, noticing Speed had swapped his own for loose-fitting tracksuits. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Speed spun the car around again.
“I’m not normally the type for caring, and sharing, but…”
Speed sighed and put the car back down. “It’s my brother,” he murmured. “I just, I miss him.”
“Oh,” Dean said softly. Then he frowned, “oh, oh, okay.”
“Wait - no!” Speed looked at him, horrified. “No, not like that! He’s my brother!” He scowled for a moment, shaking his head, then sighed. “You’re so not like him. It’s kinda painful.”
“Sorry.” Dean shifted uneasily. He didn’t want Speed to know about Sammy, not now, God, he’d think he was a freak… He shook his head. It matters, Dean? Since when?
“No… it’s not your fault.” He sighed. “It’s just, I dunno, I kinda wanted… well, let’s just say I didn’t want to spend the evening angsting.”
Dean let a smile curl around his lips. “You don’t have to.”
“Don’t you dare say ‘the night is young’.” Speed stood and came across the room, standing in front of him.
“Mmm, Iunno,” Dean murmured, pressing his lips above Speed’s navel, and Speed’s breath hitched. “It’s tempting.” He put his hands on Speed’s hips, his eyes gazing up at him. “You’re tempting.” Speed leant down and he kissed him again, sliding his hand into gelled hair, poofy and really quite awesome. Nothing like Sam’s. Nothing. His hands rested on his hips under his shirt, fingers pressing into the bone, lower than his, nothing like Sam’s. Maybe it’s okay to fuck people who aren’t Sam. He did leave me.
He fucking left me.
Dean growled, grabbed onto Speed’s hips and slammed into the kiss.
Speed moaned against his mouth, fingers working on Dean’s messed-up jeans, forgoing the shoes and causing knots around his ankles which Dean had to pry off. Speed slipped out of the tracksuits ridiculously easily, pulled off the baggy jumper easier, and Dean took the moment to kiss his stomach, lick and writhe and press Speed into the bed, moaning like a slut, tossing his head back, gazing at him with wide, blown eyes. Speed tossed restlessly, weaved his fingers into Dean’s shirt, tugged it clear, kicked off his boxers, and yes, about fucking time. He pushed Speed onto the bed, ran his fingers down his spine, shivered and licked his collarbone.
heleftmeheleftmeheleftmeheleftme
He pushed a slick finger inside Speed’s ass and he cried out, arcing up against him, moving his legs out further, grinding down onto Dean, his breath going crazy as vocabulary deserted him. Chances were he wasn’t the first to do this, but further?
Hmm.
He pushed in a second, crooked it and Speed’s breath hitched, moaning, grinding down against him, hissing and gasping. When his finger rubbed Speed’s prostate and the kid shrieked like the world was falling down Dean concluded that yeah, nothing much further. Speed was cursing and garbling beneath him, nails clutching and breaking convulsively on the sheets, wrenching great fistfuls and Dean was really, really staring at Speed’s hands, flexing his own fingers, the breath crushed out of him by the sheer tightness wrapped wetly around his fingers. He wanted to make it soft and safe, tell Speed what he was doing, but
heleftmeheleftmewhatdidIdowrong,Sam?
he couldn’t fuck Speed thinking of Sam, he couldn’t, no - Speed was different, Goddammit, no matter how much he reminded him of his baby brother. He leant down, kissed Speed, pressed a third finger inside and said his name against his lips, slowly and carefully. “Speed,” he whispered. “Speed.” Speed looked up at him with fluttering eyes, expression torn, mouth slack and panting, the vaguest hint of a smile. He mouthed against his temples, aligned their hips and pushed inside, Speed calling out, his back spasming, his fingers shredding the sheets, mouth agape in horror. Dean pulled out, pushed back in, fucked him hard, didn’t wait for him to get used to it, overloaded him with the pleasure, slammed along his prostate, fucked him so hard they ended up pressed against the wall, Speed’s legs wrapped around his waist, his blissed-out face staring incoherently at the ceiling, eyes often sliding incredulously to Dean’s face, almost like he wasn’t seeing him, like it was too good to be true. Speed came silently, too overloaded, too fucked to say anything, just clamped down hot and tight and spurted across him, his whole body staying tense as Dean fucked him, and yeah, he was crying. He was fucked off he hadn’t used a condom, fucked off he’d ruined the kid’s first time, fucked off it wasn’t Sammy, fucked off it was Speed, fucked off Sam had ruined everything for him, forever. He said Speed’s name when he came, not Sam’s, for the first time in a very long time and slumped down on the bed with Speed, who blinked at him through wrecked eyes. He seemed to contemplate him for a second, muse on the violation Dean had just caused, before pressing up against him, slinging an arm across his chest and resting his head, sliding off to sleep.
“Hey.”
Dean propped himself up, looked Speed over once and rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Hey.” He sighed. “M’sorry. I kinda flipped out.”
Speed shrugged. “’Cause I didn’t lead you on at all. Or want it, from the second you rolled out from under your car.” He walked over from the doorway and winced as he sat down, hissing. “Okay, maybe that aspect of things I’m not so happy about.” He looked out of the window.
“I could… look,” Dean said lamely. “I mean - ”
“It’s okay,” Speed said blandly. “It won’t last long. I mean, eventually I guess it’ll be good. Something to remember you by.”
Dean froze. “You think… I’m leaving, just because I got what I wanted?”
“It’s your style.”
“Normally.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But.”
“But?”
“No. Not this time.”
Dean was true to his word, and didn’t leave for a long time.
Pops didn’t have his balls, not for want of trying, or chasing him round the kitchen yelling like a madman.
“Trust me,” Speed murmured into his neck, fingers caressing the small of his back, before rocking back onto his toes and smiling sweetly. “There’s nothing more perfect than a picnic at Thunderhead.”
“I don’t know, Speed,” Dean sighed as he tugged the bag out of the boot of the 5, walking into the grounds of the track. “I can think of better ways to spend the afternoon.”
Speed laughed, handing his pass to the guard on the gate. “Who says we won’t get round to them?” They camped out in the observers’ box; the windows were floor-to-ceiling, and caught the pleasant, autumn light. Dean used the bag as a pillow, stretching out across the floor and watching the pristine sky. Speed was sat crosslegged to one side, and their little fingers touched, hands hanging loosely around their bodies. “I can tell you’re not one for the whole family thing,” Speed said softly, his other hand tracing across the carpet.
“You’d be right,” Dean murmured, his eyes closed.
“But Sam?”
He cracked open an eye. “Sam’s different.”
“Did you never do… anything like this?” Speed gestured around him, at the sunny afternoon, at the quiet intimacy of time spent together.
“Most of my childhood was orders and watch out for Sam, boy!” Dean snorted. “It didn’t leave much room for all this shit.”
Speed stood up suddenly, holding out a hand to Dean. “C’mon, pack the stuff back in the bag. I wanna show you something.” He smiled. “Come on!”
Dean scowled for the fiftieth time, shaking his head. “This is the stupidest idea, like, ever.”
Speed laughed as he climbed into the cockpit of the 6, on top of Dean, and settled in his lap. “You mentioned.”
“This is so uncomfortable,” Dean wheezed, the air virtually squashed out of his lungs. Speed tutted, shifting back against him, pressing his back flat to Dean’s chest and letting his head fall back happily.
“I wanna do something for you, Dean,” Speed said softly. “Let me do this.” He punched the 6 alive, and Dean was very, very happy Speed had as much control from the squashed position he did, because the second they pulled out onto the track Dean was petrified, pressing himself back in the seat. “Trust me, Dean,” Speed said softly. “Trust me.” Dean breathed deep, and Speed guided him round a lap, then another, then another, and they lost the afternoon.
They walked into the house with smiles on their faces and Mom responded with one of her own, broader but not as genuine. “You boys have fun today?”
“Yeah,” Speed grinned, casting a look at Dean. “Dean drove.”
Pops nearly had an aneurism. “He did what?!”
Speed laughed, shaking his head. “I told you he’d react like this,” Dean murmured.
“It’s okay, Pops. Dean… Dean, well, he’s awesome.” Speed smiled over at him, and Dean ducked his head, grumbling to himself.
They sat in Speed’s room, Dean on the bed, Speed perched on a chair nearby. “I told you not to tell them,” Dean muttered, smiling, and Speed shook his head and laughed.
Dean was twirling his phone in his fingers, and Speed sighed, shaking his head. “Just call them, Dean. I mean, calling won’t hurt.”
“I’m not calling Sammy,” Dean blurted out in a rush, then blushed furiously. “I mean, I’ll call Dad, he did…” Dean paused, realising how long it’d been since he’d spoken to his Dad, and how weird it was for his Dad to ask for help. He suddenly felt very sick and whipped his phone up to his ear, furiously calling the number.
Answerphone.
Shit.
“What is it?” Speed said softly, standing up as Dean paced frantically around the room, dialling and redialling and redialling again for good measure.
“He’s not answering the phone,” Dean snapped, rubbing his eyes.
“Maybe he’s just busy - ”
“No, Speed!” Dean shouted, coming to a frantic stop in the middle of the room, trembling slightly. “He never has his phone off, not ever.” He walked over to Speed’s closet where, for the sake of things, he’d shipped in his clothes from the Impala, and began frantically packing a duffel. Speed was frozen in the middle of the room, his hands clenched into fists, and Dean turned to him, swinging his bag onto his back. “I’m sorry, Speed,” he said, and honestly, he meant it. “They’re all I’ve got, and if something’s happened to Dad, I have to - I have to, I mean, he could be - and Sam - ”
Speed shook his head, walking forward and kissed him softly. “It’s okay, Dean,” he murmured, looking up at him. “No, really. Go make sure they’re okay.”
Dean marched across the house into the garage, stowing his clothes in the trunk, and the Racers draggled into the doorway, watching the two of them. “Is everything okay?” Mom asked quietly, peering between Speed and Dean.
“Yeah,” Speed said with a smile. “It’s just something’s happened in Dean’s family, and he needs to go sort it out.”
“Right,” she replied, and they retreated warily out of sight. The Impala had been fixed for months now, and Dean opened the driver’s door before turning to look at Speed. Dean kissed him again, stepping back for a moment, shaking his head.
“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.
Speed shook his head, ran his hand down Dean’s arm. “Honestly? I thought you would have packed up and left a long time before this.”
“That makes two of us.” Speed smiled.
“Let me know when you find them, okay?” Dean leant in for another kiss, soft and chaste. He climbed into the car and reversed out of the drive, his eyes on Speed in the wing mirror all the way. Sam’s across state, at college. That’s where he’ll start.
-
---
-
Sam’s walking up to him with a bagel clasped in each hand, and Dean flips his phone away from his ear, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “Who was that?” his brother asks when he reaches him, handing him the one in his right.
“No one,” Dean says, taking a bite. When Sam looks sceptical, Dean rolls his eyes and sighs. “Bobby, wondering if you’d managed to get laid by anyone other than me recently.”
Sam cuffs him with a gigantor hand. “Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head and climbing in the car.
Speed puts down the phone, smiling to himself behind his hand. “Who was it, sweetheart?” Mom calls from the kitchen, sticking her head round the doorframe.
“Dean,” he replies, walking in to see her. “Giving an update.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You will not believe what Sam did last night.”
-
---
-
“Bobby,” Dean said suddenly, turning to face him. “Did you say you had a job going in San Francisco?”
“Yeah,” Bobby frowned, glancing over. “I was saving it for someone. Why?”
“Can we take it?” Bobby looked over to Sam, as if seeking clarification, but Sam shrugged.
“Sure,” Bobby replied, shaking his head. “The file’s on the dresser.”
Sam was looking at him with nothing more than scepticism as they sat in the car, Dean drumming on the wheel, a smile as big as the world plastered all over his face. “You gonna explain yourself?”
“Nope,” Dean grinned.
Sam shook his head. His brother was a complete fucking mystery.
Speed burst into the room, smiling and radiant, and Mom looked up, an eyebrow raised. “What is it, darling?”
“It’s Dean,” he said in a rush, beaming. “He’s coming back.”
They rolled up to the household, Sam still none-the-wiser. He still looked incredulous as they climbed out, looking around the garage. “Since when do you have friends?”
“I’m a very sociable person, Sammy,” Dean beamed, lugging out a duffel from the trunk. A kid appeared in the doorway - well, he was probably about Sam’s age, but Sam was a giant. His eyes went straight to Dean and he brightened, his spine stiffening, his mouth stretching ecstatically. “Speed,” Dean murmured, walking over with a smile.
“It’s good to see you again, Dean,” Speed replied - nice name, Sam thought sceptically - and Sam’s stomach plummeted.
Oh.
One of those friendships.
A woman appeared in the doorway and greeted Dean like a long-lost son, all smiles and hugs and teary eyes. “Dean,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too,” Dean said, grinning.
“What brings you here?” another guy asked, tall, thin, older than Speed.
“Business, I’m afraid,” Dean said with a shrug, and Sam’s eyes widened. They knew about what they did? “But there’s no reason not to mix business and pleasure, is there?”
“Absolutely not,” Speed murmured, and Dean winked down at him.
“Come on in,” the woman said, gesturing at the doorway behind them. “You must have been driving for hours.”
They began to trickle back through the door, and Dean looked over at Sam, standing like a dork by the Impala, and nodded for him to come, staring like he was a madman. “This, by the way, is my baby brother Sammy,” he grinned, slapping Sam on the shoulder as they accumulated in the kitchen.
Their faces lit up with understanding, and the woman looked over with a smile. “Oh, we’ve heard all about you, Sam.”
This did not bode well.
“Sammy, this is Mom, Pops, Sparky and Spritle Racer.”
Sam was so in over his head.
They were in the guest bedroom - something Dean seemed surprised about - and unpacking their stuff, and Sam shook his head. “Dean, who are these people?”
“Just good friends,” Dean muttered, pacing over to the ensuite to brush his teeth. “I told you that.”
“But Dean, since when have good friends treated you like family?”
Dean shook his head, sitting down on the bed beside Sam’s. “They’re no one special, Sam, they’re just some people I stayed with while you were at college.”
“When?”
Dean looked up at the question, frowning. “What is this, twenty questions? Just before I came to get you, I think.”
Sam stared at the floor. “You told me you were working a job in New Orleans.”
“So I lied. It’s not the first time, Sammy. What’s the big deal?”
Since when do you stay with people, anyway? Sam wondered, but didn’t say anything. He knew well enough the time after him leaving was horrible enough for Dean, without dragging Dad and family into the mix. “Night,” he said softly, and though they both lay down to sleep, it was a handful of minutes before Dean was slipping out of the room with a soft click.
One of those friendships, Sam thought bitterly, and pulled the covers over his head.
Sam wandered into the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door softly and glancing around. Mom was quietly cooking but the table was empty; he paced over and slid in, scratching the back of his head. “Good morning,” she murmured as she walked over, placing a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Did you sleep well?”
Sam nodded distractedly as Speed and Dean emerged quite obviously from Speed’s room, laughing, Dean reaching down to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Morning, Sammy!” he smiled, sitting down next to him, followed by Speed. “Wow, Mom, I don’t know, I travel the length and breadth of the States and no one can quite make me get up in the morning like you can.” Mom smiled beatifically as she sat down two plates, shaking her head.
“Dean,” she laughed, her voice chiding. “I’m sure that can’t be true.”
“Well…” Dean looked beside him at Speed, winking, and Speed blushed furiously, tucking into his breakfast.
“Dean,” Sam said quickly, interrupting him before he could start off more canoodling with Speed. “I was thinking we might head over to the library today, start knocking up some research on the case.”
Dean’s smile froze on his face and he blinked at Sam. “Well, I’ve kinda made plans for this afternoon, do you mind doing it without me?” He glanced at Speed before looking back over to Sam. “C’mon, you love that library stuff, you always complain I get in the way.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam said hollowly, putting down his fork. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab a shower, okay?”
“Sure,” Dean replied as Sam stood up, but he was looking at Speed, muttering something in his ear that made Speed blush and laugh. The towel in Sam’s hand was fraying by the time he entered the shower, his grip tightening with every laugh.
Part Four