Scattered, Part One; Supernatural, VERY NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Scattered, Part One --A sequel to Splintered and Shattered
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean, Dean/Sam, John/Sam, John/Dean/Sam, Dean/OMC, Sam/OMC
Rating: VERY NC-17
Word Count: 15, 456 (total)
Summary: The harder they try, the deeper the pieces cut on the way down. Dean isn't okay. John isn't okay. Sam is so far beyond not okay. Dean's splintered pieces are shattered and scattered and he can't seem to hold it all together.
A/Ns: This was difficult to write, but the story needed an ending. I didn't have anyone beta this for me. All mistakes and such are my own.
WARNINGS: Character Death. Violent sex, non-con/dub-con, depending on how you read the choices each character makes. This is incest. This is father/son and brother/brother incest. It is violent and ugly. It is also, in the end, about love and sacrifice and the lines that we blur when it's family.
You keep moving for the next few weeks. You stop in dive motels and you sleep in shitty beds and you hope you heal enough before it comes again. You sleep with Sam in your arms. You kiss and touch and pretend and you get up the next morning and keep driving.
Somewhere in Oklahoma, Dean pulled them off the road and sighed. It was nearly midnight and both Sam and his father were sleeping. He was tired. He pulled into a rest stop and left them sleeping, heading off to the restroom to relieve himself and maybe get some soda or coffee from a machine. His phone rang as he zipped himself up.
His heart stopped as he saw who it was, but with chilled fingers, he flipped it open and held it to his ear. “Where are you?”
“Don’t know…just driving.” The last time he’d seen Pastor Jim, he’d promised to take care of things if Dean couldn’t.
“Dean, I need to know.”
Dean shook his head. “I won’t let you take him.” He closed his eyes and sagged against the wall, letting his head fall back.
“Listen to me son, you’re in over your head. You need help.”
“I need my father.”
“Dean, they’re putting together the pieces. That school you left in Fresno, they’ve got the law looking for you, especially after your trip to the hospital. There’s a cop gunning for you.”
“We’ll lay low for a bit. It will go away. It always goes away.”
Jim was quiet for a minute and Dean almost thought he’d given up. “I know you think that, son. But I don’t think it will this time. I think your father is only going to get worse, and he will get caught.”
Dean knew on some level that Jim was right, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He’d fought so hard to keep his family together. “I can’t….you know that.”
“I can. I will. Just tell me where you are.”
“No.” Dean hung up and calmly turned the phone off, setting it on the sink and walking away. He’d get a new one in a few days.
His father was awake as he got back to the car, and Dean felt the pull, the need. He nodded and came around to his father’s side of the car, opening the door and going instantly to one knee beside him. He unzipped his jeans and pulled him out, not even looking up at him as he opened his mouth and took him in.
John grunted and Dean sucked harder. He needed to make this work orally. His ass still wasn’t ready for action. It was better, but they didn’t need another hospital visit. And if Jim was telling the truth they needed to go deep. New names, new phones, new places.
His father’s hand fisted in his hair and then his cock was spewing and Dean could pull back, looking up finally. John blinked, shook his head. “You okay?” he growled.
Dean nodded. “Yeah. You?”
John stared out the window for a minute. “Where are we?”
Dean sighed. “Somewhere in Oklahoma. I was thinking we could head to Dallas.”
John frowned at him as he slid into the drivers seat again. “Dallas?”
Dean nodded and started the car. “We won’t stand out so much in a city…and right now, we need to blend.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“Yeah, Dad. I think we are.”
He doesn’t ask, and you don’t offer the information. You stop in some dive truck stop just outside Wichita Falls. You eat and find a motel for the night, but Jim’s words ring in your head as you turn off the lights and you crawl into your father’s bed, wanting to feel his touch, his skin…You can’t tell him why, but you pull him to you and your desperation leaks out through your pores.
Sam barely woke up enough to get into the room. Dean tucked blankets around him and crawled into the bathroom to shower. He felt dirty and dusty. The water was only lukewarm, but it was better than nothing.
By the time he came out of the bathroom, Sam was stretched over the bed and snoring. Dean sighed and dropped his dirty clothes in a pile by the chair. His father wasn’t asleep, but he kept his eyes closed and his face turned to the wall as Dean turned off the lights and crawled in beside him.
For a long moment Dean just lay there, his eyes closed, swallowing down the panic that seemed to live in his skin. “Dad.” It was a whisper barely audible in the space between Sam’s snores, but John turned, onto his back, his eyes open now and dark.
Dean shifted, up, looking down into his father’s face. He looked as worn and tired and afraid as Dean felt. “I need…” He couldn’t say the words though.
John didn’t seem to need them. He nodded once, and his hand lifted to cup the back of Dean’s head, drawing him down. The kiss was soft, tender…so much different than what they usually shared. Dean let himself ease into it, opening his lips. His father’s tongue was tentative sliding across and into Dean’s mouth.
Dean let his hand trail down over John’s stomach, under the blanket. His cock was warm and soft and John groaned, pulling out of the kiss. “Dean…”
“Shh…” Dean stroked over his cock and sought out his lips. “Please…let me…” Dean kissed over his lips and jaw while his hand worked his cock, drawing it out and up. It hardened slowly in his hands and Dean could tell John wasn’t entirely comfortable, but he chose to ignore it, sliding lips down his stomach and circling his navel before moving to take his cock into his mouth.
John moaned. Dean stroked his fingers over his stomach and thighs, licking his way around his cock, sucking up the underside then sliding down it. John’s cock thickened in his mouth. He slipped one hand down to fondle his balls.
Dean startled when John’s hand closed over his cock, drawing slow and stuttering. Then John was moving, twisting and encouraging Dean to move closer. Dean opened his eyes just as he felt something warm and wet circle his cock. He groaned at the sight, as his father’s mouth slid over him and it was insane how hard he got. It was unexpected. That was what he got from Sam. Never this.
He turned back to his father’s cock, bobbing over it in a counter rhythm to John’s mouth on him. John’s rhythm stuttered as he came, but his mouth went immediately back to it and soon it was Dean moaning and coming.
John was up and into the bathroom seconds after Dean finished and Dean straightened himself out in the bed, listening to the sounds of his father showering. When he came back he crawled into bed beside Dean and they both lay silently until sleep claimed them.
You expect Dallas to be different somehow. You find a run down house in a bad part of town and you bunker down. You get new IDs and apply for new credit cards with the new names you stole off birth records. You figure you can hide. You can hide and make it work.
Dean tossed his father a phone as he came in the front door. “New phones. Freebies, money’s tight.” That was an understatement. Money was more than tight. It was non-existent. He’d hustled pool for two hours to get enough to do the whole pre-paid cell phone thing to get them set up.
“Credit cards should start rolling in soon.” John said, tucking the phone into his pocket.
Dean nodded. “I’m going to see if I can’t get us some paying work. Got a line on a bar that’s maybe hiring. Needs a bouncer.”
John snorted a little. “Right. Just remember you can’t kill the drunks.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna grab a shower and change. You going to be okay if I go out?”
John squinted at him and nodded. “I’m not a baby, Dean. It seems to have backed off some.”
Dean nodded. He and Sam had talked about that. It seemed that since John had started accepting the boys and their attention, the need had come less frequently. Like it was his denial of the thing and the lack of sex made it worse or something.
Not that Dean let Sam do more than kiss and touch. He told himself that Sam didn’t need that baggage…vowed to keep Sam out of it…So Dean took it upon himself to go to his father every few days, and they’d managed to hold it off with blow jobs.
It helped him beat back the fear.
“Where is Sam?”
John sighed. “He said something about basketball.”
Dean shook his head. “In this neighborhood? He must have a death wish.”
He headed up the stairs and into the bathroom. He needed to get some quick cash to get them through for a few days. He was finally healed enough that he wasn’t worried about going out and the possibility of their being trouble. He had a fine line of scar tissue over his cheek, but it was faint and seemed to add to his tough guy image. He showered and chose not to shave, just poured himself into a pair of jeans and a wife beater, followed by the gray t-shirt and a long sleeved shirt.
Sam was coming in the door as he came down the stairs. He grinned and pushed hair out of his eyes, revealing a fresh shiner. “What happened to you?”
He shrugged. “Just getting to know the neighbors.” He flopped onto the couch and turned on the television.
Dean sighed and pulled Sam’s phone out of his pocket. “Here, I got you a new phone. My number’s in it, so is Dad’s. Call me if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Dean ducked into the kitchen where John was warming up soup for dinner. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Be careful.”
The bar was only about ten minutes away. Dean parked the Impala and wandered into the place, wanting to get a feel for it before he approached the owner. It was a typical Texas bar, with rockabilly music pouring through the open front door and cowboy hats on almost every head in the joint.
It was early yet, and there were only fifteen or so people in the place, including the bartender. Dean made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, sitting down to watch what he was assuming was the usual crowd, because it wasn’t quite seven and it was a Wednesday.
“Here you go.” The bartender put his beer in front of him. “You don’t look familiar.”
Dean offered a quick smile. “First time here. I’m new in town.”
“Well then, welcome to our dirty little hole in the wall.”
“Thank you, I think.” Dean’s eyes scanned the room, starting to notice that maybe this wasn’t your typical Texas bar at all. There was only one woman in sight…and looking again Dean wasn’t sure she was a woman really.
“It’s always quiet before nine,” the bartender said, wiping the bar, and obviously eyeing Dean up and down. “I’m Kyle.” He smiled and it made Dean a little uncomfortable.
“Um…Daniel. Daniel Macdonald.” He swallowed down a good amount of the beer and took a deep breath. “I was told you might be looking for a bouncer.”
Kyle stood back, his eyes sweeping over Dean meaningfully again. “Oh, honey, you ain’t big enough or bad enough to bounce our guys. Though plenty would pay for the privilege to bounce you.”
Dean felt himself blush bright red and pulled his glass of beer up to cover his cough of surprise.
“Kyle, you hitting on the customers again?”
“Hey Sarge. I was just telling young Daniel here that you already hired a bouncer. Pity too. He’s a pretty thing. He’d class the joint up.”
Dean looked up at the big man Kyle called Sarge. The man looked him over. “You look like you know how to handle yourself in a fight.”
“Yes sir.” Dean said, setting his beer aside and standing to hold out his hand. “Daniel Macdonald. I really need a job. I have a father and a brother to take care of.”
“Family man, I like that. Why don’t you come back to my office, Daniel, and we’ll have us a talk.”
Dean felt like a piece of meat, but he followed Sarge into the office and closed the door. Sarge puffed like it was work walking across the bar and dropped into his chair. “We really do have a bouncer, but you’re very pretty. You ever tend bar?”
“I drink at lots of them, does that count?” Dean asked.
Sarge chuckled. “You know your way around liquor?”
“I can tell my Scotch from my Brandy from my Whiskey, if that’s what you mean.” Dean said. He kind of liked this guy.
“Can’t pay much. But a place like this and a guy as good looking as you…there’s always someone looking for a little more than a beer, if you know what I mean.”
Dean’s heart hammered at him. “Not interested in anything extra, just some work.”
Sarge nodded. “You can double with Kyle Friday and Saturdays for a while. When you get the hang of it you can take Sundays and Mondays so Kyle can stop pissing about not getting any time off.”
“Excellent. Thank you, sir.”
“Sarge, not sir. Used to be in the army. Damn Reds blew off my foot.” He put his foot on the desk in front of him and it clunked. He pulled up his pant leg to show Dean his wooden foot.
“My dad was a Marine.” Dean offered.
“Good man.” Sarge dropped his foot and looked up at him. “So we’ll see you Friday night Daniel.”
“Thank you Sarge.” Dean shook his hand, then headed back to the bar for one more beer and to get a feel for Kyle, since he’d be working with him.
You don’t tell them what kind of bar it is, and you don’t mention the name. You don’t tell them what Sarge said about extra money. You take the job and you hustle pool in other dives the next night to buy food. You go to the bar and you pour beer and try to ignore the hungry eyes and the pointing fingers and Kyle’s wandering hands. You go home at night and pretend. Everything is okay.
Dean crawled home at almost three am with aching feet and a headache from the loud music and yelling, and he was fairly certain his ass was bruised from the pinching. The house was quiet, still.
He sighed in relief and let himself into the house, stopping in his father’s room first. He was asleep, his face more peaceful than Dean could remember seeing it in a long time. It was soothing and Dean felt like the cracks were starting to come back together.
He moved on to Sam’s room. Sam was awake, rolling over and lifting a hand to beckon Dean to him. “You look tired.” His voice was growly and sleep dusted.
Dean nodded and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He took Sam’s hand as he toed off his shoes and slid into bed, still fully clothed. “You smell like beer.” Sam’s kiss was quick, his tongue sliding through Dean’s mouth. “You taste like beer.”
“’M tired Sammy.”
Sam pouted at him. “It’s been days Dean. I miss you.”
Dean tried to keep his eyes open, but exhaustion pulled him under. He woke to Sam’s touch, to Sam’s hands and the cool touch of lube. He opened an eye and closed it quickly. It was probably close to noon, judging just from the sun coming in the open window and Sam almost didn’t realize Dean was even awake. He was concentrating on smothering his brother’s dick with lube and when Dean cleared his throat, Sam grinned. “Morning.”
“What are you doing?”
“You fell asleep on me. I’m horny.”
“Dude, you’re sixteen. You’re always horny.”
Sam didn’t respond, just moved so that Dean’s cock was poised under his ass. “At least tell me you-“ Sam’s mouth dropped open as he sank and Dean could tell he hadn’t prepped. He was hot and tight and the faces ranged from pain to lust and he stopped half way down, holding himself with one hand on Dean’s chest, while his other grabbed at his cock, but not before it emptied itself all over Dean’s stomach. “Dude!”
Sam grinned, once his orgasm was done. “Told you. Horny.” He lifted up and eased back down, taking Dean deeper. Dean cursed and grabbed a fist full of sheets.
“Fuck, Sammy!”
“Working on it Dean.” Sam pulled up again and Dean shook his head. It was too slow and too much and damn but Dean wasn’t going to make it. He growled and sat up, pushing Sam onto his back and snapping his hips in fast and hard. Sam’s cock was still dribbling and he yelled when Dean’s down stroke found his prostate, his ass clenching tight and Dean closed his eyes and tried to hold on, but the grip was hard and the heat was more than he could take. He shot fast and pulled out slow, falling down beside his brother with a half chuckle, half groan.
“Next time, warn a guy, huh?” Dean said, panting a little.
“Didn’t want you to say no.” Sam sat up and reached for a dirty t-shirt, wiping up Dean’s stomach before reaching behind to wipe his ass. “Dad and I are going for a run. Want to come?”
Dean shook his head. “Not this afternoon. I’ve got to find out why the Impala’s being temperamental.”
“It might be because it’s old, Dean.” Sam said, heading out the door of the bedroom for the bathroom, his cock swinging out in front of him. Dean threw a pillow at him and missed, then got up and tucked himself back into the jeans he’d never taken off the night before. He headed down the stairs, thinking coffee sounded good.
He stopped dead in the living room. His father was sitting on the couch, There was a darkness in his eyes, but Dean could see he was trying to hold it back, trying to keep it in check.
“Dad?”
His father looked up, took a slow breath. “Heard you and Sam…felt it coming.”
“Okay, I’m here.”
His father’s teeth were clenched tight. “A blow job isn’t going to be enough, Dean.”
Dean nodded slowly. They knew it would come back, even if they’d pretended that it wouldn’t. They knew it would need more again. “Okay. I’ll get lube.”
“Got some.” John held up one hand. “Can’t hold it, son. You need to be ready.”
Dean took the bottle with one hand while he unzipped his jeans with the other. “I’m okay Dad. I’m here.” He was terrified, truthfully. Terrified that John would hurt him again and that it would drive him over the edge. He squirted lube onto his fingers and nudged his jeans down, working his fingers in. His father’s pants were open, his cock hard.
With a deep breath, Dean kneeled on the couch next to him, offering up his ass.
“Dean.” It was the familiar growl, the one that told him his father wasn’t in control anymore. The couch shifted and Dean pulled his fingers out of himself, reaching his sticky hand to rub over his father’s cock…then guiding him in.
“It’s okay Dad. It’s okay.”
It burned, almost as much as that first time. Dean bit into the arm of the couch and tried to relax. He squeezed his eyes closed and counted slowly. His father’s hands grabbed at his hips, squeezing and bruising until Dean yelled and pushed back. “Finish.” Dean growled.
John growled back and shoved in deep and hard, rocking the couch against the wall.
“Dean?”
Sam was on the stairs, his eyes wide. John bellowed, a roar of emotion Dean couldn’t quite place and shoved in again. Dean’s mouth hit the arm of the chair, splitting his lip. He was about to warn Sam off, send him away when he felt the hot flood and John was falling back, sitting heavy. Sam was suddenly there beside him, reaching for Dean, helping him up. “You okay?”
Dean nodded and wiped his lip. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked down at his father whose eyes were on the floor. “Dad?”
John shook his head, covered his face. “What have I become?” John whispered.
“Dad, it’s okay.”
John lurched to his feet, his face red. “No it fucking isn’t Dean. What is this? I raised you better than this.” He started to stalk away then stopped. He turned back to them, but didn’t look at them. “I’m not even a hunter anymore. I’m…just this thing.”
Sam had his arms around Dean, his face nuzzled in Dean’s shoulder as John disappeared into the kitchen. They could hear him rummaging in the cupboards and when he returned, passing through the living room to the stairs, it was with a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t say anything more, just headed to his room with the bottle.
“Sam, I’m fine.” Dean pushed at his brother and finished zipping his jeans. “I need a shower now…but I’m fine.”
“You didn’t see his eyes.” Sam said. “He…scared me.”
Dean frowned at him. “It can get pretty ugly, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “I’ve never seen it like that Dean.”
Dean sighed and pulled Sam to him, kissing him lightly. “He was trying to control it…that’s all it was…and when he let go, it was intense. It’s okay.”
He pulled free and headed for the stairs himself. “I’m going to shower. You want to help me work on the car after?”
They both knew there would be no running now, not with John tipping into the bottle, and Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure.”
Title: Scattered, Part One --A sequel to Splintered and Shattered
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean, Dean/Sam, John/Sam, John/Dean/Sam, Dean/OMC, Sam/OMC
Rating: VERY NC-17
Word Count: 15, 456 (total)
Summary: The harder they try, the deeper the pieces cut on the way down. Dean isn't okay. John isn't okay. Sam is so far beyond not okay. Dean's splintered pieces are shattered and scattered and he can't seem to hold it all together.
A/Ns: This was difficult to write, but the story needed an ending. I didn't have anyone beta this for me. All mistakes and such are my own.
WARNINGS: Character Death. Violent sex, non-con/dub-con, depending on how you read the choices each character makes. This is incest. This is father/son and brother/brother incest. It is violent and ugly. It is also, in the end, about love and sacrifice and the lines that we blur when it's family.
You keep moving for the next few weeks. You stop in dive motels and you sleep in shitty beds and you hope you heal enough before it comes again. You sleep with Sam in your arms. You kiss and touch and pretend and you get up the next morning and keep driving.
Somewhere in Oklahoma, Dean pulled them off the road and sighed. It was nearly midnight and both Sam and his father were sleeping. He was tired. He pulled into a rest stop and left them sleeping, heading off to the restroom to relieve himself and maybe get some soda or coffee from a machine. His phone rang as he zipped himself up.
His heart stopped as he saw who it was, but with chilled fingers, he flipped it open and held it to his ear. “Where are you?”
“Don’t know…just driving.” The last time he’d seen Pastor Jim, he’d promised to take care of things if Dean couldn’t.
“Dean, I need to know.”
Dean shook his head. “I won’t let you take him.” He closed his eyes and sagged against the wall, letting his head fall back.
“Listen to me son, you’re in over your head. You need help.”
“I need my father.”
“Dean, they’re putting together the pieces. That school you left in Fresno, they’ve got the law looking for you, especially after your trip to the hospital. There’s a cop gunning for you.”
“We’ll lay low for a bit. It will go away. It always goes away.”
Jim was quiet for a minute and Dean almost thought he’d given up. “I know you think that, son. But I don’t think it will this time. I think your father is only going to get worse, and he will get caught.”
Dean knew on some level that Jim was right, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He’d fought so hard to keep his family together. “I can’t….you know that.”
“I can. I will. Just tell me where you are.”
“No.” Dean hung up and calmly turned the phone off, setting it on the sink and walking away. He’d get a new one in a few days.
His father was awake as he got back to the car, and Dean felt the pull, the need. He nodded and came around to his father’s side of the car, opening the door and going instantly to one knee beside him. He unzipped his jeans and pulled him out, not even looking up at him as he opened his mouth and took him in.
John grunted and Dean sucked harder. He needed to make this work orally. His ass still wasn’t ready for action. It was better, but they didn’t need another hospital visit. And if Jim was telling the truth they needed to go deep. New names, new phones, new places.
His father’s hand fisted in his hair and then his cock was spewing and Dean could pull back, looking up finally. John blinked, shook his head. “You okay?” he growled.
Dean nodded. “Yeah. You?”
John stared out the window for a minute. “Where are we?”
Dean sighed. “Somewhere in Oklahoma. I was thinking we could head to Dallas.”
John frowned at him as he slid into the drivers seat again. “Dallas?”
Dean nodded and started the car. “We won’t stand out so much in a city…and right now, we need to blend.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“Yeah, Dad. I think we are.”
He doesn’t ask, and you don’t offer the information. You stop in some dive truck stop just outside Wichita Falls. You eat and find a motel for the night, but Jim’s words ring in your head as you turn off the lights and you crawl into your father’s bed, wanting to feel his touch, his skin…You can’t tell him why, but you pull him to you and your desperation leaks out through your pores.
Sam barely woke up enough to get into the room. Dean tucked blankets around him and crawled into the bathroom to shower. He felt dirty and dusty. The water was only lukewarm, but it was better than nothing.
By the time he came out of the bathroom, Sam was stretched over the bed and snoring. Dean sighed and dropped his dirty clothes in a pile by the chair. His father wasn’t asleep, but he kept his eyes closed and his face turned to the wall as Dean turned off the lights and crawled in beside him.
For a long moment Dean just lay there, his eyes closed, swallowing down the panic that seemed to live in his skin. “Dad.” It was a whisper barely audible in the space between Sam’s snores, but John turned, onto his back, his eyes open now and dark.
Dean shifted, up, looking down into his father’s face. He looked as worn and tired and afraid as Dean felt. “I need…” He couldn’t say the words though.
John didn’t seem to need them. He nodded once, and his hand lifted to cup the back of Dean’s head, drawing him down. The kiss was soft, tender…so much different than what they usually shared. Dean let himself ease into it, opening his lips. His father’s tongue was tentative sliding across and into Dean’s mouth.
Dean let his hand trail down over John’s stomach, under the blanket. His cock was warm and soft and John groaned, pulling out of the kiss. “Dean…”
“Shh…” Dean stroked over his cock and sought out his lips. “Please…let me…” Dean kissed over his lips and jaw while his hand worked his cock, drawing it out and up. It hardened slowly in his hands and Dean could tell John wasn’t entirely comfortable, but he chose to ignore it, sliding lips down his stomach and circling his navel before moving to take his cock into his mouth.
John moaned. Dean stroked his fingers over his stomach and thighs, licking his way around his cock, sucking up the underside then sliding down it. John’s cock thickened in his mouth. He slipped one hand down to fondle his balls.
Dean startled when John’s hand closed over his cock, drawing slow and stuttering. Then John was moving, twisting and encouraging Dean to move closer. Dean opened his eyes just as he felt something warm and wet circle his cock. He groaned at the sight, as his father’s mouth slid over him and it was insane how hard he got. It was unexpected. That was what he got from Sam. Never this.
He turned back to his father’s cock, bobbing over it in a counter rhythm to John’s mouth on him. John’s rhythm stuttered as he came, but his mouth went immediately back to it and soon it was Dean moaning and coming.
John was up and into the bathroom seconds after Dean finished and Dean straightened himself out in the bed, listening to the sounds of his father showering. When he came back he crawled into bed beside Dean and they both lay silently until sleep claimed them.
You expect Dallas to be different somehow. You find a run down house in a bad part of town and you bunker down. You get new IDs and apply for new credit cards with the new names you stole off birth records. You figure you can hide. You can hide and make it work.
Dean tossed his father a phone as he came in the front door. “New phones. Freebies, money’s tight.” That was an understatement. Money was more than tight. It was non-existent. He’d hustled pool for two hours to get enough to do the whole pre-paid cell phone thing to get them set up.
“Credit cards should start rolling in soon.” John said, tucking the phone into his pocket.
Dean nodded. “I’m going to see if I can’t get us some paying work. Got a line on a bar that’s maybe hiring. Needs a bouncer.”
John snorted a little. “Right. Just remember you can’t kill the drunks.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna grab a shower and change. You going to be okay if I go out?”
John squinted at him and nodded. “I’m not a baby, Dean. It seems to have backed off some.”
Dean nodded. He and Sam had talked about that. It seemed that since John had started accepting the boys and their attention, the need had come less frequently. Like it was his denial of the thing and the lack of sex made it worse or something.
Not that Dean let Sam do more than kiss and touch. He told himself that Sam didn’t need that baggage…vowed to keep Sam out of it…So Dean took it upon himself to go to his father every few days, and they’d managed to hold it off with blow jobs.
It helped him beat back the fear.
“Where is Sam?”
John sighed. “He said something about basketball.”
Dean shook his head. “In this neighborhood? He must have a death wish.”
He headed up the stairs and into the bathroom. He needed to get some quick cash to get them through for a few days. He was finally healed enough that he wasn’t worried about going out and the possibility of their being trouble. He had a fine line of scar tissue over his cheek, but it was faint and seemed to add to his tough guy image. He showered and chose not to shave, just poured himself into a pair of jeans and a wife beater, followed by the gray t-shirt and a long sleeved shirt.
Sam was coming in the door as he came down the stairs. He grinned and pushed hair out of his eyes, revealing a fresh shiner. “What happened to you?”
He shrugged. “Just getting to know the neighbors.” He flopped onto the couch and turned on the television.
Dean sighed and pulled Sam’s phone out of his pocket. “Here, I got you a new phone. My number’s in it, so is Dad’s. Call me if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Dean ducked into the kitchen where John was warming up soup for dinner. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Be careful.”
The bar was only about ten minutes away. Dean parked the Impala and wandered into the place, wanting to get a feel for it before he approached the owner. It was a typical Texas bar, with rockabilly music pouring through the open front door and cowboy hats on almost every head in the joint.
It was early yet, and there were only fifteen or so people in the place, including the bartender. Dean made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, sitting down to watch what he was assuming was the usual crowd, because it wasn’t quite seven and it was a Wednesday.
“Here you go.” The bartender put his beer in front of him. “You don’t look familiar.”
Dean offered a quick smile. “First time here. I’m new in town.”
“Well then, welcome to our dirty little hole in the wall.”
“Thank you, I think.” Dean’s eyes scanned the room, starting to notice that maybe this wasn’t your typical Texas bar at all. There was only one woman in sight…and looking again Dean wasn’t sure she was a woman really.
“It’s always quiet before nine,” the bartender said, wiping the bar, and obviously eyeing Dean up and down. “I’m Kyle.” He smiled and it made Dean a little uncomfortable.
“Um…Daniel. Daniel Macdonald.” He swallowed down a good amount of the beer and took a deep breath. “I was told you might be looking for a bouncer.”
Kyle stood back, his eyes sweeping over Dean meaningfully again. “Oh, honey, you ain’t big enough or bad enough to bounce our guys. Though plenty would pay for the privilege to bounce you.”
Dean felt himself blush bright red and pulled his glass of beer up to cover his cough of surprise.
“Kyle, you hitting on the customers again?”
“Hey Sarge. I was just telling young Daniel here that you already hired a bouncer. Pity too. He’s a pretty thing. He’d class the joint up.”
Dean looked up at the big man Kyle called Sarge. The man looked him over. “You look like you know how to handle yourself in a fight.”
“Yes sir.” Dean said, setting his beer aside and standing to hold out his hand. “Daniel Macdonald. I really need a job. I have a father and a brother to take care of.”
“Family man, I like that. Why don’t you come back to my office, Daniel, and we’ll have us a talk.”
Dean felt like a piece of meat, but he followed Sarge into the office and closed the door. Sarge puffed like it was work walking across the bar and dropped into his chair. “We really do have a bouncer, but you’re very pretty. You ever tend bar?”
“I drink at lots of them, does that count?” Dean asked.
Sarge chuckled. “You know your way around liquor?”
“I can tell my Scotch from my Brandy from my Whiskey, if that’s what you mean.” Dean said. He kind of liked this guy.
“Can’t pay much. But a place like this and a guy as good looking as you…there’s always someone looking for a little more than a beer, if you know what I mean.”
Dean’s heart hammered at him. “Not interested in anything extra, just some work.”
Sarge nodded. “You can double with Kyle Friday and Saturdays for a while. When you get the hang of it you can take Sundays and Mondays so Kyle can stop pissing about not getting any time off.”
“Excellent. Thank you, sir.”
“Sarge, not sir. Used to be in the army. Damn Reds blew off my foot.” He put his foot on the desk in front of him and it clunked. He pulled up his pant leg to show Dean his wooden foot.
“My dad was a Marine.” Dean offered.
“Good man.” Sarge dropped his foot and looked up at him. “So we’ll see you Friday night Daniel.”
“Thank you Sarge.” Dean shook his hand, then headed back to the bar for one more beer and to get a feel for Kyle, since he’d be working with him.
You don’t tell them what kind of bar it is, and you don’t mention the name. You don’t tell them what Sarge said about extra money. You take the job and you hustle pool in other dives the next night to buy food. You go to the bar and you pour beer and try to ignore the hungry eyes and the pointing fingers and Kyle’s wandering hands. You go home at night and pretend. Everything is okay.
Dean crawled home at almost three am with aching feet and a headache from the loud music and yelling, and he was fairly certain his ass was bruised from the pinching. The house was quiet, still.
He sighed in relief and let himself into the house, stopping in his father’s room first. He was asleep, his face more peaceful than Dean could remember seeing it in a long time. It was soothing and Dean felt like the cracks were starting to come back together.
He moved on to Sam’s room. Sam was awake, rolling over and lifting a hand to beckon Dean to him. “You look tired.” His voice was growly and sleep dusted.
Dean nodded and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He took Sam’s hand as he toed off his shoes and slid into bed, still fully clothed. “You smell like beer.” Sam’s kiss was quick, his tongue sliding through Dean’s mouth. “You taste like beer.”
“’M tired Sammy.”
Sam pouted at him. “It’s been days Dean. I miss you.”
Dean tried to keep his eyes open, but exhaustion pulled him under. He woke to Sam’s touch, to Sam’s hands and the cool touch of lube. He opened an eye and closed it quickly. It was probably close to noon, judging just from the sun coming in the open window and Sam almost didn’t realize Dean was even awake. He was concentrating on smothering his brother’s dick with lube and when Dean cleared his throat, Sam grinned. “Morning.”
“What are you doing?”
“You fell asleep on me. I’m horny.”
“Dude, you’re sixteen. You’re always horny.”
Sam didn’t respond, just moved so that Dean’s cock was poised under his ass. “At least tell me you-“ Sam’s mouth dropped open as he sank and Dean could tell he hadn’t prepped. He was hot and tight and the faces ranged from pain to lust and he stopped half way down, holding himself with one hand on Dean’s chest, while his other grabbed at his cock, but not before it emptied itself all over Dean’s stomach. “Dude!”
Sam grinned, once his orgasm was done. “Told you. Horny.” He lifted up and eased back down, taking Dean deeper. Dean cursed and grabbed a fist full of sheets.
“Fuck, Sammy!”
“Working on it Dean.” Sam pulled up again and Dean shook his head. It was too slow and too much and damn but Dean wasn’t going to make it. He growled and sat up, pushing Sam onto his back and snapping his hips in fast and hard. Sam’s cock was still dribbling and he yelled when Dean’s down stroke found his prostate, his ass clenching tight and Dean closed his eyes and tried to hold on, but the grip was hard and the heat was more than he could take. He shot fast and pulled out slow, falling down beside his brother with a half chuckle, half groan.
“Next time, warn a guy, huh?” Dean said, panting a little.
“Didn’t want you to say no.” Sam sat up and reached for a dirty t-shirt, wiping up Dean’s stomach before reaching behind to wipe his ass. “Dad and I are going for a run. Want to come?”
Dean shook his head. “Not this afternoon. I’ve got to find out why the Impala’s being temperamental.”
“It might be because it’s old, Dean.” Sam said, heading out the door of the bedroom for the bathroom, his cock swinging out in front of him. Dean threw a pillow at him and missed, then got up and tucked himself back into the jeans he’d never taken off the night before. He headed down the stairs, thinking coffee sounded good.
He stopped dead in the living room. His father was sitting on the couch, There was a darkness in his eyes, but Dean could see he was trying to hold it back, trying to keep it in check.
“Dad?”
His father looked up, took a slow breath. “Heard you and Sam…felt it coming.”
“Okay, I’m here.”
His father’s teeth were clenched tight. “A blow job isn’t going to be enough, Dean.”
Dean nodded slowly. They knew it would come back, even if they’d pretended that it wouldn’t. They knew it would need more again. “Okay. I’ll get lube.”
“Got some.” John held up one hand. “Can’t hold it, son. You need to be ready.”
Dean took the bottle with one hand while he unzipped his jeans with the other. “I’m okay Dad. I’m here.” He was terrified, truthfully. Terrified that John would hurt him again and that it would drive him over the edge. He squirted lube onto his fingers and nudged his jeans down, working his fingers in. His father’s pants were open, his cock hard.
With a deep breath, Dean kneeled on the couch next to him, offering up his ass.
“Dean.” It was the familiar growl, the one that told him his father wasn’t in control anymore. The couch shifted and Dean pulled his fingers out of himself, reaching his sticky hand to rub over his father’s cock…then guiding him in.
“It’s okay Dad. It’s okay.”
It burned, almost as much as that first time. Dean bit into the arm of the couch and tried to relax. He squeezed his eyes closed and counted slowly. His father’s hands grabbed at his hips, squeezing and bruising until Dean yelled and pushed back. “Finish.” Dean growled.
John growled back and shoved in deep and hard, rocking the couch against the wall.
“Dean?”
Sam was on the stairs, his eyes wide. John bellowed, a roar of emotion Dean couldn’t quite place and shoved in again. Dean’s mouth hit the arm of the chair, splitting his lip. He was about to warn Sam off, send him away when he felt the hot flood and John was falling back, sitting heavy. Sam was suddenly there beside him, reaching for Dean, helping him up. “You okay?”
Dean nodded and wiped his lip. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked down at his father whose eyes were on the floor. “Dad?”
John shook his head, covered his face. “What have I become?” John whispered.
“Dad, it’s okay.”
John lurched to his feet, his face red. “No it fucking isn’t Dean. What is this? I raised you better than this.” He started to stalk away then stopped. He turned back to them, but didn’t look at them. “I’m not even a hunter anymore. I’m…just this thing.”
Sam had his arms around Dean, his face nuzzled in Dean’s shoulder as John disappeared into the kitchen. They could hear him rummaging in the cupboards and when he returned, passing through the living room to the stairs, it was with a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t say anything more, just headed to his room with the bottle.
“Sam, I’m fine.” Dean pushed at his brother and finished zipping his jeans. “I need a shower now…but I’m fine.”
“You didn’t see his eyes.” Sam said. “He…scared me.”
Dean frowned at him. “It can get pretty ugly, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “I’ve never seen it like that Dean.”
Dean sighed and pulled Sam to him, kissing him lightly. “He was trying to control it…that’s all it was…and when he let go, it was intense. It’s okay.”
He pulled free and headed for the stairs himself. “I’m going to shower. You want to help me work on the car after?”
They both knew there would be no running now, not with John tipping into the bottle, and Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure.”