Apr 15, 2007 23:01
Title: Like broken heroes
Author: missyjack
Pairing: John/Dean
Words: 1,125
Rating: NC-17 although no explicit sex
Warning: Daddycest
Summary: First and last kisses.
The first time Dean kissed his father, not as a son but as a man, he was seventeen.
John had returned from a hunt with the haunted look Dean knew too well. Sam was asleep in the other room and Dean, relegated to baby sitter, had been waiting anxiously for his Dad’s return.
When John walked silently into the room, dumped his weapons bag carelessly in the corner, and didn’t even ask Dean whether Sam had been good or whether he’d done his homework, Dean knew things hadn’t gone well. He fetched them both beers from the fridge and they sat across from each other at the kitchen table.
Finally John spoke, in slow halting words, and told Dean of the young woman and her baby who had died, the life choked from them, before he could dispatch the vengeful spirit.
“They were terrified Dean, clawing at their throats, suffocating while I watched. I couldn’t…I just didn’t know how to stop it.” John’s hands clenched and unclenched. “The spirit kept me back, I couldn’t reach them. Her eyes were pleading with me to save her, to save her baby and I just stood there like the useless fuck I am and watched them die.”
Returning to silence, John reached for the liquor bottle and drank a tumbler of it down in one long gulp. He was crying soundlessly now, tears streaming down his face, and the sight tore at Dean’s heart. He knelt at John’s side, and drew his father’s head onto his shoulder, partly for comfort, partly so he didn’t have to see his pain.
As he held him tightly, Dean felt his father try and swallow his sobs. Dean was scared. More often now hunts ended like this, his father hating himself for another failure, seeking to wash away what he’d seen with whiskey. He’d disappear to his room and appear in a day, red-eyed and ashamed, taking out his anger at himself in another row with Sam, or reaming Dean out for minor failure at his training.
He hated to see his father like this, his dad who was so brave, who saved so many people. When he was younger, Dean couldn’t understand why his father didn’t see what a hero he was. But now he was older, he knew that every time someone died, it just reminded John that he’d failed to save Mary all those years ago.
Tears filled Dean's eyes, as he pressed his lips to John’s forehead as he murmured an invocation found in no Bible or grimoire.
“It’s okay Dad, shhhh, it’s okay. You did everything you could, without you that spirit would’ve killed other people. I’m so proud of you.”
He lifted John’s head, a hand against his father’s stubble-rough cheek and looked into his eyes. There he saw defeat and a failure that Dean felt as his own. He couldn’t fix this, couldn’t make it okay.
“I can’t...Dean I can’t do this anymore. I’m no help to anyone.”
Dean didn’t want to hear that. He hated himself for wanting his father to shut up, for wanting him to be strong all the time. So he covered his father’s mouth with his own, quieting his father’s words of weakness.
Dean wasn’t thinking of it as a kiss until he pulled away and tasted his father on his lips. Then the flavor, at once foreign and so familiar, lured him back and before John could protest, Dean drew him in. His father tried to pull away but Dean held him there, demanding he accept it. This second time was a kiss, lips and tongues searching, tasting, John opening up to his son, all the love Dean felt and wanted there in their mouths.
When they finally broke apart, John poured a full glass of whiskey and handed it to Dean who took a long swallow. John did the same before grabbing the bottle and rising, turned to leave the room.
“Dad?” Dean reached a hand out, half tugging at John’s sleeve.
Wordlessly, John shrugged off Dean’s hand, turned and walked from the room.
* * *
The last time Dean kissed his father, not as a son but as a man, he was lying in a hospital bed. His body ached not only from his wounds but from the words his father spoke.
“You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.”
What his Dad said scared him even though they were the words he’d longed to hear his whole life. So many times he’d told himself that John was proud of him, even if he never said it.
Dean knew his father cared every time he trusted Dean to hunt alongside him, asked him to look after his brother, gave him a clap on the shoulder after a job well done. John showed Dean his love every time he let Dean comfort him in the dark, with the touches of which they never spoke.
The last time John had said he was proud, when the Demon was in him, Dean knew the words were false, could almost taste the lie. Truth be told, hearing them now he still doubted them because he’d always imagined that when he heard those words his world would change.
But the words had been too long in the speaking. Like a muscle withered from lack of use, Dean’s heart could no longer respond to them. The time when they might have made a difference to who Dean was or how he felt had passed many years ago.
As his father leant over him, Dean stiffened involuntarily as he flashed back to the fear he’d felt as the Demon had held Sam’s life and his in his power. John placed a reassuring hand resting on his chest over his heart. His mouth was so close, Dean felt his breath warm on his cheek.
“You have to save your brother. Whatever you do Dean, you must save him, because if you can’t …if you can’t you may have to kill him. If you can’t save Sam, you are going to have to kill him.”
“Wha..” Dean started to ask. But John placed his mouth over Dean’s and silenced his question. This time it was John who pushed into Dean, the kiss speaking more eloquently of their relationship than any words. When he broke away, he rubbed his thumb along Dean’s bottom lip, kissed it to his own lips and pressed it back again Dean’s mouth.
“Dad?” Dean reached a hand out, half tugging at John’s sleeve.
Wordlessly, John shrugged off Dean’s hand, turned and walked from the room.
john/dean,
wincest