Fic: What Matters Most (1/8)
What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2000 or so this part
Beta Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: Cursing, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Mild Incest. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of Season One, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke. I so didn’t get them for my birthday.
Summary: Lucie asked for Bottom!Dean and she wanted alcoholic!Dean and enabler!Sam. This is what resulted.
Notes: Way back in September of 2007, lucilla_darkate and I had a conversation in which we discussed the lack of Sam/John fics and how she wanted a good bottom!Dean fic. I offered her my poor skills and she got a story. Sorry I was so slow about posting this babe.
Sam was thirteen the first time he saw Dean get drunk. Laughing with him and at him had been a blast. Then Dean had tried to kiss him. Sam hadn’t kissed anyone yet and here was his brother, trying to push his tongue in his mouth.
“Get off.” Sam shoved Dean but he wasn’t showing the height or the muscles that, in a few years, he would grow into. Consequently, Dean barely moved.
“Sam. Sam. Sammy. Sam. Sam. Why are you so pretty, Sammy?”
Pushing against his brother, Sam said, “Dean, don’t.”
Losing his equilibrium, Dean fell back on his ass. It seemed to shock him because he suddenly stated babbling. “So sorry, Sammy. So sorry.” He began to cry and Sam looked around. The house Dean had dragged him to was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t see anyone he recognized.
“Shhh, Dean.” Sam helped him to his feet and then managed to get him outside. All the time Dean was mumbling apologies. “Stop.” Sam felt infinitely patient with his drunken brother, or at least he thought so.
Getting outside just in time for Dean to puke all over someone’s nice flowers, Sam held onto him the entire time. If this was what alcohol was about, he could leave it alone.
Sam managed to get the keys and drove carefully home. Dad was gone, off hunting something, and he had left Dean in charge, which had been all well and good as long as they stayed at home.
Dean had been invited to a party, his first party, he had told Sam. He wasn’t going to miss it just because he was babysitting. Sam had told Dean to leave him at home, but Dean was convinced he would tell Dad so he had taken Sam with him.
Pulling into the driveway, Sam parked the car. Helping Dean into the house would prove interesting.
“Did you know you have pretty eyes, Sammy?”
Sam grunted; he really didn’t want to talk to Dean when he was in this kind of mood. Sighing with relief as they reached the door, he took out the keys and slid them into the lock. Hearing the click, Sam pushed the door open. “Are you done puking? ‘Cause if you’re not, you can stay out here for a while. I don’t want to explain to Dad why the house smells like puke.”
Dean looked up at Sam with a goofy grin on his face. “Been dreaming about you, Sammy. Is this another dream?”
“No, damnit, Dean, it’s not! Fuck this. Bed, you are going to bed, now.” Sam pulled Dean up from the porch step he had sunk down on. Half dragging, half carrying Dean, Sam got the two of them in the house. Thank god this one only had stairs on the porch. He made his way through the living room, making a detour away from the couch where Dean insisted that he could sleep.
Finally he pushed Dean down on his bed. “Don’t say another damn word, Dean. Go to sleep.” Sam was willing to bet that he had been almost dead to the world before Sam closed the door behind him and went to get a glass of water.
Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? Sitting at the kitchen table, Sam stared off into space, thinking. Dean kissed him. Dean kissed him. Dean kissed him. No matter how he said it to himself, it just didn’t sound right. Dean dreamed about him. Those kind of dreams, the ones where you wake up with your briefs soaked in come.
Sam felt perverted. Just thinking about Dean coming because he had been dreaming about Sam was making him hard.
Fuck this. Dean had been so drunk he probably wouldn’t remember what he had done, much less said.
Sam was right. The next morning Dean woke up with a killer headache and no memory of anything past arriving at the party.
The second time Sam saw Dean get drunk was two years later. Dean had dropped out of the last high school they had been in because he was failing anyway. Dad just accepted it and started taking Dean on hunts with him, leaving Sam alone. Dean had made his first kill and Dad bought the both of them a bottle of Jack. It was supposed to be for one congratulatory drink for Dean and the rest for Dad but Sam watched as Dean matched Dad drink for drink until the bottle was empty.
Dad had been proud of Dean and to this day Sam isn’t sure if he was proud because Dean killed something or proud because Dean could keep up with him drinking. Sam had watched, picking up after the two of them trashed the house. Really, neither one of them should ever drink anything remotely alcoholic. Sam sighed as he swept the floor.
Later, after Dad and Dean were both in bed, Sam went and got the mop. At fifteen he wondered if he was ever going to get out of here, get away from this dysfunction that was his family. Having contemplated running away before, Sam realized that he couldn’t leave, not while Dean still needed him. Looking around the room, Sam knew he was needed, if only to pick up their mess.
Heading back to his bedroom, he had to pass Dean’s room. Dean, who was awake. Dean, who was awake and standing at his door. Remembering what had happened the last time Dean had been drunk, Sam stayed as far from him as he could.
“Sammy.”
“Go to sleep.”
“It was horrible. Sam, it screamed when I killed it. Like a kid, like you.”
“I’m not a kid.”
Dean didn’t seem to hear him. “That’s why I drank tonight. I thought I could stop hearing you scream. Sammy, why were you screaming?”
Knowing that Dean wouldn’t admit to something like this when he was sober, Sam took a calming breath. “I haven’t been screaming. You went hunting with Dad, remember? I was in school.”
“It was like I killed you. I was scared ‘til I saw you. I didn’t believe it, not really.” Dean walked up to Sam.
Now that Sam had hit puberty, he was almost as tall as his brother. Looking in Dean’s eyes, Sam tried to slide down the hall. Dean put his hand on the wall, stopping him.
Dean leaned in and Sam would have backed up if he could. As it was, Sam’s head hit the wall and Dean licked his neck.
He licked his neck!
Desperately ignoring the flare of desire in his stomach, Sam tried to push Dean away. Dean started protesting, loudly. If Sam didn’t shut him up, he was going to wake up Dad and Sam certainly didn’t want to answer questions that he didn’t even want thought about, let alone asked. Sam grabbed Dean’s head and brought their lips together.
Remarkably, Dean shut up. Sam had kissed a couple of girls since the last time Dean kissed him. He kind of had a clue what to do this time, moving his lips and turning his head so that their noses didn’t get all mushed up. Then Dean was kissing him back and pushing him against the wall. He could feel Dean’s hard on pressed up against him. Hoping that Dean wouldn’t find out that he was hard too, Sam shifted and Dean added more pressure.
“Oh god, oh Sammy,” Dean murmured against him, his voice full of need.
“Damnit, Dean. Not like this, not with you drunk.”
“Fine.” Dean pushed off the wall behind Sam, turned and wobbled his way into his room.
The next morning both Dean and Dad had pretty good hangovers. It was Saturday so Sam puttered around the house, finishing cleaning and picking things up. Getting apologies from both of them, Sam shrugged. Being upset wouldn’t change anything.
Dean, once again, seemed to have no memory of what had happened. In his bedroom Sam adjusted himself for the tenth time in the past few minutes. Knowing that Dean wanted him gave Sam this unbelievable feeling of power, power over Dean. It felt good.
After that, Sam often saw Dean drinking, but he rarely got drunk when he was home. It seemed that he had picked up on how uncomfortable Sam was about him drinking. But it didn’t stop him from picking on Sam when he wouldn’t touch alcohol. He had called Sam all kinds of names. Pansy was the least of it, all because Sam wouldn’t drink.
It took all of Sam’s self-control not to tell Dean that he knew his dirty little secret. The asshole. What Sam did do was a subtle attack on Dean, to see if he would admit to his feelings while sober.
Letting a towel slip here, the shirt ride up there. Nothing too obvious, certainly nothing that Dad would pick up on. Hearing Dean’s breath catch let Sam know he had won another round. He always acted like he didn’t have a clue what he was doing to his brother.
It was almost a year and a half later, they had moved four times and finally Dad had left them alone again, having something to hunt that Sam and Dean couldn’t help him with. Sam had been pushing Dean harder than ever. Twice in the past year Dean had gotten drunk and hit on him. Making out with him, Sam never let it go any farther. No matter how Dean pushed or begged, Sam wanted him sober and told him each time.
Dean broke down the second day. Sam had a tank top on that had fit him last year, now it was too small and pulled up so that his stomach was showing. Wearing some shorts that he had laid in the tub with them on, gotten soaked and then let them dry, they couldn’t have been more form fitting.
It had been Sam adjusting his cock that finally made Dean snap.
“Stop that and go change.”
Sam gave Dean his best innocent look, which even he had to admit was pretty good.
“Don’t give me that look, damnit. Go fucking change.”
“Make me.”
“Sammy, you don’t want to start this.”
“What if I do?” Sam walked over to where Dean was sitting.
Dean apparently couldn’t take staring at Sam’s dick, that was clearly outlined in the shorts, because he stood quickly enough. “You’re dressed like a whore. Go and fucking change.”
“How would you know what a whore looks like? Especially male ones?”
Dean blushed. He fucking blushed.
“You haven’t?”
“Of course not.” Dean was vehement in his denial.
Yeah right.
“I’ve just seen ‘em when I’ve been out with Dad.”
Sam just nodded.
“So go fucking change.”
Sam closed the distance between them so that he was looking down on Dean. So close he could smell him. While Sam hadn’t grown into his height yet, still all elbows and knees, he was taller than Dean now and he used it to his advantage.
“Why don’t you tell me what you really want me to do?” Sam looked down at him, wondering if this time Dean would tell him while he was sober.
Dean hit Sam, right across the jaw. Sam went down and Dean ran. It was the first time Dean had ever hit him. Running his fingers over the knot that was forming along his jaw, Sam tried to think of what to do next but came to no conclusions.
He had been lying on his bed for hours. It had started raining and he had stopped thinking and just listened to the rain beat on the roof. Not, most definitely not, worried about Dean out in the rain. Hearing him come in was a bit of a relief.
Coming home drunk, Dean was trying to be quiet. Sam knew this because Dean was making a god awful racket and then telling himself to be quiet.
Lying on his bed, Sam wondered what Dean would do this time. Go to bed or come into his room. The dark shadow filling his doorway was his answer.
Part Two
Part Two,
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2000 or so this part
Beta Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: Cursing, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Mild Incest. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of Season One, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke. I so didn’t get them for my birthday.
Summary: Lucie asked for Bottom!Dean and she wanted alcoholic!Dean and enabler!Sam. This is what resulted.
Notes: Way back in September of 2007, lucilla_darkate and I had a conversation in which we discussed the lack of Sam/John fics and how she wanted a good bottom!Dean fic. I offered her my poor skills and she got a story. Sorry I was so slow about posting this babe.
Sam was thirteen the first time he saw Dean get drunk. Laughing with him and at him had been a blast. Then Dean had tried to kiss him. Sam hadn’t kissed anyone yet and here was his brother, trying to push his tongue in his mouth.
“Get off.” Sam shoved Dean but he wasn’t showing the height or the muscles that, in a few years, he would grow into. Consequently, Dean barely moved.
“Sam. Sam. Sammy. Sam. Sam. Why are you so pretty, Sammy?”
Pushing against his brother, Sam said, “Dean, don’t.”
Losing his equilibrium, Dean fell back on his ass. It seemed to shock him because he suddenly stated babbling. “So sorry, Sammy. So sorry.” He began to cry and Sam looked around. The house Dean had dragged him to was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t see anyone he recognized.
“Shhh, Dean.” Sam helped him to his feet and then managed to get him outside. All the time Dean was mumbling apologies. “Stop.” Sam felt infinitely patient with his drunken brother, or at least he thought so.
Getting outside just in time for Dean to puke all over someone’s nice flowers, Sam held onto him the entire time. If this was what alcohol was about, he could leave it alone.
Sam managed to get the keys and drove carefully home. Dad was gone, off hunting something, and he had left Dean in charge, which had been all well and good as long as they stayed at home.
Dean had been invited to a party, his first party, he had told Sam. He wasn’t going to miss it just because he was babysitting. Sam had told Dean to leave him at home, but Dean was convinced he would tell Dad so he had taken Sam with him.
Pulling into the driveway, Sam parked the car. Helping Dean into the house would prove interesting.
“Did you know you have pretty eyes, Sammy?”
Sam grunted; he really didn’t want to talk to Dean when he was in this kind of mood. Sighing with relief as they reached the door, he took out the keys and slid them into the lock. Hearing the click, Sam pushed the door open. “Are you done puking? ‘Cause if you’re not, you can stay out here for a while. I don’t want to explain to Dad why the house smells like puke.”
Dean looked up at Sam with a goofy grin on his face. “Been dreaming about you, Sammy. Is this another dream?”
“No, damnit, Dean, it’s not! Fuck this. Bed, you are going to bed, now.” Sam pulled Dean up from the porch step he had sunk down on. Half dragging, half carrying Dean, Sam got the two of them in the house. Thank god this one only had stairs on the porch. He made his way through the living room, making a detour away from the couch where Dean insisted that he could sleep.
Finally he pushed Dean down on his bed. “Don’t say another damn word, Dean. Go to sleep.” Sam was willing to bet that he had been almost dead to the world before Sam closed the door behind him and went to get a glass of water.
Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? Sitting at the kitchen table, Sam stared off into space, thinking. Dean kissed him. Dean kissed him. Dean kissed him. No matter how he said it to himself, it just didn’t sound right. Dean dreamed about him. Those kind of dreams, the ones where you wake up with your briefs soaked in come.
Sam felt perverted. Just thinking about Dean coming because he had been dreaming about Sam was making him hard.
Fuck this. Dean had been so drunk he probably wouldn’t remember what he had done, much less said.
Sam was right. The next morning Dean woke up with a killer headache and no memory of anything past arriving at the party.
The second time Sam saw Dean get drunk was two years later. Dean had dropped out of the last high school they had been in because he was failing anyway. Dad just accepted it and started taking Dean on hunts with him, leaving Sam alone. Dean had made his first kill and Dad bought the both of them a bottle of Jack. It was supposed to be for one congratulatory drink for Dean and the rest for Dad but Sam watched as Dean matched Dad drink for drink until the bottle was empty.
Dad had been proud of Dean and to this day Sam isn’t sure if he was proud because Dean killed something or proud because Dean could keep up with him drinking. Sam had watched, picking up after the two of them trashed the house. Really, neither one of them should ever drink anything remotely alcoholic. Sam sighed as he swept the floor.
Later, after Dad and Dean were both in bed, Sam went and got the mop. At fifteen he wondered if he was ever going to get out of here, get away from this dysfunction that was his family. Having contemplated running away before, Sam realized that he couldn’t leave, not while Dean still needed him. Looking around the room, Sam knew he was needed, if only to pick up their mess.
Heading back to his bedroom, he had to pass Dean’s room. Dean, who was awake. Dean, who was awake and standing at his door. Remembering what had happened the last time Dean had been drunk, Sam stayed as far from him as he could.
“Sammy.”
“Go to sleep.”
“It was horrible. Sam, it screamed when I killed it. Like a kid, like you.”
“I’m not a kid.”
Dean didn’t seem to hear him. “That’s why I drank tonight. I thought I could stop hearing you scream. Sammy, why were you screaming?”
Knowing that Dean wouldn’t admit to something like this when he was sober, Sam took a calming breath. “I haven’t been screaming. You went hunting with Dad, remember? I was in school.”
“It was like I killed you. I was scared ‘til I saw you. I didn’t believe it, not really.” Dean walked up to Sam.
Now that Sam had hit puberty, he was almost as tall as his brother. Looking in Dean’s eyes, Sam tried to slide down the hall. Dean put his hand on the wall, stopping him.
Dean leaned in and Sam would have backed up if he could. As it was, Sam’s head hit the wall and Dean licked his neck.
He licked his neck!
Desperately ignoring the flare of desire in his stomach, Sam tried to push Dean away. Dean started protesting, loudly. If Sam didn’t shut him up, he was going to wake up Dad and Sam certainly didn’t want to answer questions that he didn’t even want thought about, let alone asked. Sam grabbed Dean’s head and brought their lips together.
Remarkably, Dean shut up. Sam had kissed a couple of girls since the last time Dean kissed him. He kind of had a clue what to do this time, moving his lips and turning his head so that their noses didn’t get all mushed up. Then Dean was kissing him back and pushing him against the wall. He could feel Dean’s hard on pressed up against him. Hoping that Dean wouldn’t find out that he was hard too, Sam shifted and Dean added more pressure.
“Oh god, oh Sammy,” Dean murmured against him, his voice full of need.
“Damnit, Dean. Not like this, not with you drunk.”
“Fine.” Dean pushed off the wall behind Sam, turned and wobbled his way into his room.
The next morning both Dean and Dad had pretty good hangovers. It was Saturday so Sam puttered around the house, finishing cleaning and picking things up. Getting apologies from both of them, Sam shrugged. Being upset wouldn’t change anything.
Dean, once again, seemed to have no memory of what had happened. In his bedroom Sam adjusted himself for the tenth time in the past few minutes. Knowing that Dean wanted him gave Sam this unbelievable feeling of power, power over Dean. It felt good.
After that, Sam often saw Dean drinking, but he rarely got drunk when he was home. It seemed that he had picked up on how uncomfortable Sam was about him drinking. But it didn’t stop him from picking on Sam when he wouldn’t touch alcohol. He had called Sam all kinds of names. Pansy was the least of it, all because Sam wouldn’t drink.
It took all of Sam’s self-control not to tell Dean that he knew his dirty little secret. The asshole. What Sam did do was a subtle attack on Dean, to see if he would admit to his feelings while sober.
Letting a towel slip here, the shirt ride up there. Nothing too obvious, certainly nothing that Dad would pick up on. Hearing Dean’s breath catch let Sam know he had won another round. He always acted like he didn’t have a clue what he was doing to his brother.
It was almost a year and a half later, they had moved four times and finally Dad had left them alone again, having something to hunt that Sam and Dean couldn’t help him with. Sam had been pushing Dean harder than ever. Twice in the past year Dean had gotten drunk and hit on him. Making out with him, Sam never let it go any farther. No matter how Dean pushed or begged, Sam wanted him sober and told him each time.
Dean broke down the second day. Sam had a tank top on that had fit him last year, now it was too small and pulled up so that his stomach was showing. Wearing some shorts that he had laid in the tub with them on, gotten soaked and then let them dry, they couldn’t have been more form fitting.
It had been Sam adjusting his cock that finally made Dean snap.
“Stop that and go change.”
Sam gave Dean his best innocent look, which even he had to admit was pretty good.
“Don’t give me that look, damnit. Go fucking change.”
“Make me.”
“Sammy, you don’t want to start this.”
“What if I do?” Sam walked over to where Dean was sitting.
Dean apparently couldn’t take staring at Sam’s dick, that was clearly outlined in the shorts, because he stood quickly enough. “You’re dressed like a whore. Go and fucking change.”
“How would you know what a whore looks like? Especially male ones?”
Dean blushed. He fucking blushed.
“You haven’t?”
“Of course not.” Dean was vehement in his denial.
Yeah right.
“I’ve just seen ‘em when I’ve been out with Dad.”
Sam just nodded.
“So go fucking change.”
Sam closed the distance between them so that he was looking down on Dean. So close he could smell him. While Sam hadn’t grown into his height yet, still all elbows and knees, he was taller than Dean now and he used it to his advantage.
“Why don’t you tell me what you really want me to do?” Sam looked down at him, wondering if this time Dean would tell him while he was sober.
Dean hit Sam, right across the jaw. Sam went down and Dean ran. It was the first time Dean had ever hit him. Running his fingers over the knot that was forming along his jaw, Sam tried to think of what to do next but came to no conclusions.
He had been lying on his bed for hours. It had started raining and he had stopped thinking and just listened to the rain beat on the roof. Not, most definitely not, worried about Dean out in the rain. Hearing him come in was a bit of a relief.
Coming home drunk, Dean was trying to be quiet. Sam knew this because Dean was making a god awful racket and then telling himself to be quiet.
Lying on his bed, Sam wondered what Dean would do this time. Go to bed or come into his room. The dark shadow filling his doorway was his answer.
Part Two
Part Two,