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every stone a story, Part Five, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: every stone a story, Part Five (link to Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Pastor Jim, OMCs/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6827
Summary: Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt. The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts. What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.
A/Ns & Warnings: For the exquisite![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katbcoll. Warnings include: under-age non-con, under-age prostitution, some violence. This was actually meant to be done in one part, but well...it ended up being longer than I thought...but these two parts ( 5 & 6) are finally the end.
“Boys are rowdy tonight.” Adam said as he came in from the stage, sweating and sporting a big red blotch on his hip where he’d obviously been hit with something.
“More than normal?” Dean asked as he finished getting dressed for his turn.
“Oh, yeah…some gay firemen’s convention or something.” Adam responded. “They are going to eat you alive.”
“Don’t worry too much, Mustang.” Spike said behind him. “Charlie pulled Sean off the door to guard your pretty ass. At least until someone pays the dough to fuck it.”
Dean ignored him and went back to applying his eyeliner. He just wanted the night over. His father was supposed to have been released from the hospital in the afternoon, but when Dean called Charlie to get the night off to help out, Charlie had made sure he understood that not coming in to work was tantamount to breaking their agreement, with all the consequences that implied.
His father was going to be angry. Sam already was. But, with his father home, they were that much closer to getting the fuck out of town, and Dean was well beyond ready for that.
He could hear his intro starting and sighed, turning to head out for his first dance of the night. The place was at capacity. Dean cracked his neck as Back in Black started and moved out onto the stage. Drunk, half dressed men lined the stage, already waving money at him. He gyrated and moved, keeping away from grabby hands as he pulled on the snaps of his tight leather pants.
The crowd was so loud as he neared the end of the runway that he couldn’t even hear his music. He pulled the pants off, tossing them back behind him and shaking his ass toward the men crowding the stage.
Hands grabbed him, shoving money into his g-string, sliding over his skin. He tried to dance back toward the stage, but hands on his legs pulled him back.
“Hey!” He kicked, catching someone in the face. He was momentarily free of hands and dove for the pole, grabbing it and holding on as the hands came back.
He fought to keep from getting yanked into the crowd, then suddenly hands were being pulled off him, one by one, and he got his feet under him, standing tight to the pole.
Sean and two other guys were beating back the crowd and the house lights were coming on. “Get back stage.” Sean yelled at Dean just before he punched one of the men in the mouth. Dean didn’t need a second invitation, he kept to the center of the runway and grabbing at his pants as ran off stage.
He was panting as he made it to the dressing room, pushing past the other dancers. He was still shaking when Sean came in a few minutes later, pulling Dean into a back corner.
“Are you okay?”
Dean nodded shakily. “I think so.”
Sean looked him over. “Someone bring me a shot of something.” Sean said over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else until he had the shot and had handed it to Dean. “Drink.”
Dean didn’t argue. He downed the whiskey and handed the glass back.
“Okay, we’ve tossed the trouble makers. Charlie’s trying to cool the room off before you go back out.”
“Back…” Dean shook his head. “He can’t expect me to…after…”
“He does. And he’s got three private dances lined up for you too.”
“Fuck.” Dean pulled a hand through his hair. “I can’t.” He shook his head and paced away. “I can’t.”
Sean followed him and cupped his face in big hands. “You can. You can do this.”
“No.” Dean pulled back. “My father is home now. He’s going to….fuck…” Dean crossed to his station, pulling his jeans off the chair. “I have to go home.”
“Dean.” Sean using his real name pulled him up short, his jeans half way up his legs. “If you leave, Charlie is going to be pissed.”
Dean shook his head. "I don't care." He finished putting on his jeans, shoved his feet into his sneakers and grabbed his shirt and coat, already around Sean and to the back door. He was pulling his shirt on in the alley when Sean grabbed him and pushed him into the wall.
"Dean." His voice was a harsh hiss, his body pressing Dean into the dirty brick wall. "Charlie isn't playing."
Dean struggled for a minute, then Sean slapped him hard across the face. "Get your shit together. Or he's gonna send me to break your legs, not to mention what he'll have me do to Sam."
Dean froze, the image of Matty's brother rising in his head. "No."
"Then get your ass back inside, get up on that stage and dance."
"Everything okay, boys?" Charlie's voice came from the doorway.
"Yeah, Boss. Mustang just needed some air after that."
"Take five, I'll put one of the other guys on."
Dean nodded, more to Sean than in response to the words. "I'm okay."
"Not gonna run on me?"
Dean shook his head. "No. I know what I have to do."
"Good." Sean's mouth covered his, tongue sliding between Dean's lips. "Dance for me. Forget the others."
Sean's hand slid down Dean's arm, his fingers twining between Dean's. He tugged and Dean followed numbly, his mind stuck on the thought of Sam naked and bound and waiting to pay for his failure.
They stopped and Dean's mirror. "Okay?" Sean asked.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
"I'll be out front."
Sean left him standing there, with the other dancers staring at him. Dean tried to still his stomach, breathing slow and deep as he started removing his clothes again. "What are you staring at?" he growled at Spike who laughed and disappeared into the bathroom.
"Just breathe." Dean murmured to his reflection. "You've done it before. It's just a little longer."
The second time out was better, the crowd more controlled and as soon as Dean hit the stage he could see Sean there, hovering nearby. He managed to get through the song without falling or getting pulled into the audience. Sean was waiting for him back stage. He had another shot for Dean which Dean took without a word, downing it and letting Sean herd him toward the private room.
The man waiting for him in the shadows was tall, and he wore a cowboy hat. Dean couldn’t see much else. The music from the stage shook the walls as the door closed and Dean moved further into the room. “I’m Mustang.” Dean said, not used to the men who bought him being so quiet.
“I know. I bought you.” He moved away from the wall, and even when he was directly in front of Dean, he couldn’t see the man’s face. He squinted up at him and shifted his weight.
“So…”
He was answered with a big fist backhand across his face. Dean stumbled, his hand lifting to the pain blooming in his cheek.
“Don’t need your mouth running, boy.” He crowded Dean in against the wall, his hand fisting in Dean’s hair. “What I need is for you to hold still while I get what I paid for.”
Dean nodded as much as he could with the way his head was being held. The man’s right fist slammed into Dean’s stomach, doubling him over. The fist in his hair pulled him up again and shoved him toward the bench.
It was fairly obvious he wasn’t getting a chance to prep as the sound of the man’s zipper filled the room. Dean did his best not to struggle, not to tense up as the man pulled aside the g-string and rubbed the head of his cock over Dean’s ass. He shoved in hard and Dean grunted, biting down on the yell of pain that wanted to come out.
Once he was fully inside Dean, he let go of Dean’s hair, moving his hands to Dean’s sides, his fingers pressing in deep, fingernails cutting into Dean’s skin. His pace was brutal, slamming Dean against the bench hard enough to leave bruises on his stomach.
His right hand lifted, then crashed into Dean’s hip hard. Dean yelled then, shoving back against him. He was rewarded with another punch to the same spot on his hip, then the cowboy pulled out and threw Dean to the ground.
Before Dean could react, a boot came down on his hip and he felt something inside pop. He tried to crawl for the door, but the cowboy dragged him back, stepping on his right thigh to pin him down.
"Fucking whore." He stood, his heel digging into the flesh of Dean's thigh and jacked himself off, coming all over Dean's face. He bent down, grabbing Dean's chin. "Next time you're told to hold still and take it, do what you're told."
He stalked away and Dean rolled onto his side, muffling the yell of pain by biting into his thumb. The door opened and closed and Dean didn't look up, didn't react. He never even saw the next guy or the one after that. By the time they were done with him he was close to passing out. He lay on the dirty floor forever before gentler hands found him.
"Hey."
Dean cried out as Sean rolled him onto his back, one hand reaching for the injured hip. "Easy, I've got you." Sean's hands moved over his skin, checking muscles and bones and joints. When he got to Dean's hip Dean yelled again, clutching at Sean's hand.
"Fuck. Fuck."
"Okay, hold still." Sean's fingers probed the joint until Dean was ready to yell again. "Okay, okay. I don't think anything's broken, but I'm going to get your clothes and get you in to the doc, okay?"
He wanted to protest, but he was pretty sure he couldn't have gotten up on his own just then anyway. Sean disappeared and when he came back, he tugged Dean's g-string down and away, then eased his jeans up over his legs. It took some maneuvering to get them up and there were tears burning the corners of his eyes by the time Sean pulled the zipper up. He helped Dean sit and eased his shirt on, then knelt to put his sneakers on his feet.
Dean's hip screamed in pain as Sean got him up on his feet, but once he was up, the leg held some of his weight. Sean half carried him out the back door and laid him in the van.
A few minutes later they were at the small clinic that Dean knew was in Charlie's pocket. "Wait here."
Sean disappeared inside and came out with a wheelchair, helping Dean into it and pushing him inside. "Charlie called ahead. They're ready for us."
Ready meant whisking Dean into x-ray and from there into an exam room where he sat in his back open gown watching the bruising develops. From mid way up his side down to nearly his knee he was already purple and blue with spots deepening quickly toward black.
"Good new is nothing's broken. You're going to be sore for a few days, but I can give you some pain medication." The doctor said finally. "No dancing for at least three days." The doctor finished, looking at Sean.
"I'll make sure of it."
"Get dressed, I'll have your medication ready at the desk when you're done."
He left the room and Dean eased off the exam table, wincing, though his leg held his weight. Sean handed him his jeans.
"I'm going to take you home." Sean held up his hand when Dean started to argue. "I'll bring you the car. But you're not driving." Sean held his hips to steady him as Dean dressed and supported him as he limped out of the exam room.
As promised the doctor was waiting at the reception desk with a bottle of pills. "I'd stay off it as much as possible the next few days, ice for the next 24 hours."
Dean took the pills and put them in his pocket, shaking free of Sean to test his ability to walk on his own. It hurt, but he managed, though he couldn't keep from limping.
Sean drove him to his house, but Dean stopped him when he looked like he was going to get out of the car and help Dean in. "I got it."
"You're barely walking."
"I got it." Dean leaned over and brushed a kiss onto Sean's cheek. "Thanks."
"Hey, I'll tell Charlie what the doc said."
"Tomorrow's supposed to be my night off." Dean responded as he opened the door. At least the sidewalk was clear of snow. "So, I'll call you tomorrow." Dean closed the door and limped his way to the door.
Jim heard the car that was not the impala, and listened to the hesitant footsteps. Dean was limping. The front door eased open and closed again. Jim lifted his head from the couch, squinting in the dark.
"You alright there, Son?" Jim asked softly, watching Dean wince and freeze.
"Yeah…just…" He waved a hand and pills rattled in a bottle.
Jim sat up, reaching for the light. "What is it this time?"
Dean turned away from the light and started toward the kitchen. Jim stood, following him. By the time he got there, Dean had a glass of water and was tossing back one of the pills.
"I'm fine." Dean said, shaking his head. "Or I will be. Just banged up."
"Another fight?" Jim asked, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe.
"Car." Dean said, coughing a little. "Didn't see it." His hand rubbed down his leg, but he didn't look Jim in the eye.
"Awful lot of accidents and fights for a busboy." Jim observed, watching Dean's face tighten. "Anything you want to talk about?"
"It's late, I'm tired." Dean drank more of the water, then set the glass aside.
"You know you can quit any time. You did your job, you kept you and Sam safe. You should get back to school, let your daddy and me take over."
Dean shook his head tightly, his mouth a thin line. "No. I can't."
"It isn't like you need the money, Son."
Dean sighed and limped toward him, around him. "It isn't the money. Just…this isn't the kind of job you can just quit. Not without consequences."
Jim put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Let me help."
"No. I'm a big boy, Pastor Jim. I can handle it. It's just until we leave town anyway." He yawned. "Really. Pain pills. I need to sleep."
Jim stood back and let him go, pacing the living room once he was gone. "What have you gotten yourself into Dean?" he asked softly before he heard John in the nearer bedroom. Jim opened the door to find John half way to the bathroom, leaning heavily on the walker. "Why didn't you call me?"
"Did." John was sweating as he pushed a leg forward.
"Let me help."
John pulled his arm away. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, you Winchesters. The lot of you, just fine." Jim said before he could stop himself.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Jim shook his head. "Go on, take care of your business. If you need me, I'm right here."
John got another three steps before his shoulders sagged and he hung his head. "Jim."
He didn't say anything, just stepped in behind John to support him. John was a stubborn man, and Jim knew how much he hated being an invalid. They got into the bathroom and John murmured his thanks before Jim withdrew to wait for him.
By the time they got John back into his bed, he was trembling with the effort and sweating. "Dean's home." Jim murmured as he pulled blankets up over John.
"He tell you about this job of his?" John asked once he'd caught his breath.
"Not much to be honest. I don't think I like it much though. You've seen the bruises?"
John nodded. "Yeah, he thinks he's hiding them, but Sam tells me Dean's been coming home all beat up."
Jim sat beside him, chewing the inside of his lip as he thought about how much to tell his friend. "His hurt bad enough to have pain pills tonight."
John stiffened and adjusted himself against the pillows. "What? Did he say how?"
Jim shrugged. "He said he got hit by a car."
"You don't believe him." John said. It wasn't a question.
"No, I don't." Jim agreed. "You ever know a busboy to get so beat up so often?" He sighed and looked up at John. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he's okay. You need anything?"
John's eyes were already drooping toward sleep though. Jim stood, heading back out into the hall. He wandered down to check on Sam, finding Dean curled up in the bed with Sam, only this time it was Sam who was curled protectively around Dean.
Something certainly wasn't right. It was becoming painfully apparent that Dean had been lying to them, and whatever job he'd gotten himself to take care of him and Sam had repercussions the kid hadn't been prepared for.
Jim couldn't tell if it was drugs or something worse. He sighed as he settled back onto the couch. He aimed to find out though. He owed the kid for not being able to get to him when the accident first happened. Damned demons.
He rubbed over his face and laid down. Morning would come quickly, and he had a house full of stubborn Winchester men to take care of. There wasn't enough sleep in the world to get him ready for that.
The smell of coffee pulled Jim out of twisted dreams and he sat up slowly, eyes stealing to the clock on the wall. It was after seven. He scrubbed his face and stood, shuffling toward the kitchen.
Sam looked up from his breakfast. "Made coffee."
"I see that. Thanks."
He poured himself a cup and sat at the table. Sam closed the book he'd been reading and picked up his cereal bowl to drain it of milk. "How are you doing, Sam?"
Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm fine, Pastor Jim, other than the history test today."
Jim wrapped long fingers around the coffee mug. "What do you know about Dean's job?"
Sam made a face. "Not much. He works nights at some bar, comes home late, gets into a lot of fights. Takes a lot of showers after."
Jim frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
Sam shrugged and stood, taking his bowl to the sink. "Always showers when he comes home, before he even comes to check on me. Sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night and showers again. And every day before work he showers again."
Something about that set Jim on edge. "Have you asked him about it?"
Sam sighed, his eyes darting to Jim's then away. "He says he feels…dirty. Sticky or something. Then he got pissed at me and we had a fight." Sam squirmed like he was uncomfortable with the conversation. “I need to get to school.”
“Want a ride?” Jim asked.
“Bus is fine. I’ll see you later.”
Jim watched him go. It wasn’t a lot more information than he already had, though Dean feeling dirty was new. Any number of things that could mean really. But he would find out and get the kid loose from it. He owed him that much.
Dean groaned as he came awake, disoriented until he remembered falling asleep in Sam’s bed. He hadn’t even showered, just stripped down and pulled on his sweats. His body ached and his hip hurt bad enough he wasn’t sure he could move it.
He shifted slowly, easing upward until he was sitting. The dull aftertaste of the drugs coated his tongue and made him want to brush his teeth. He pulled a hand through his hair and froze. His hair was matted and stiff. He pushed himself out of bed and limped to the dresser. Somehow he’d gotten come in his hair and it was dried and stuck to his stomach as well.
Disgusted, Dean limped out into the hall, stopping when he heard voices. His father. Jim. The conversation stopped, but before one of them could call his name, Dean went into the bathroom.
He was mortified that he’d come home that way, that Jim had seen him, that he had slept in Sam’s bed like that. Dean turned on the water and tried to figure out how to get into the tub without hurting himself more.
It took him a minute, but eventually he did it, clinging to the towel rack and wall. His hip was stiff and the pain ratcheted up when he put weight on it, but the water was hot and felt good pouring over him.
He leaned into the spray, eyes closed. He could just hear the rumble of his father's voice, low, under the sound of the water. There was something comforting in the sound, letting him relax a little more. The voice rumbled to a stop and Dean opened his eyes.
He wouldn't be able to hide in the shower or his room now. He might fool Sam, but now he had his father and Jim to contend with. He dumped shampoo into his hand and scrubbed his hair, then his body. He repeated the whole process twice more, adjusting the water hotter and hotter until the hot was on as high as it would go and the water was cooling anyway. His skin was bright red from the heat except where it was mottled black and blue, yellow and green and purple.
Getting out of the tub was harder than getting in, though his hip did seem to have loosened up. He slipped, caught himself on the counter, but that only slowed his fall.
"Dean?"
Jim. Dean managed to cover himself just before the door opened, though the garish bruising extended on either side of the towel.
"You okay?"
Dean nodded. "Just…" He waved a hand at his leg and shifted around in an attempt to get up. Jim put his hand down and Dean took it reluctantly, letting Jim help him to his feet.
"That is pretty spectacular bruising." Jim's hand brushed his thigh and Dean froze. He couldn't move, even as Jim leaned in to see better. Dean's heart raced and his lungs stopped working. Jim was going to know. He was going to see it. Smell it. He was going to know—
"Everything okay?" John called from the living room.
Jim straightened up, his eyes dark as they met Dean's. "Yeah, John. Fine." He lowered his voice, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "We are going to talk about this."
Dean could feel his hands trembling, clutching the towel to cover his cock. "Maybe you could let me get dressed first?"
Jim backed off a step. "You need help?"
Dean shook his head.
"Okay, get dressed and get your ass out to the living room. You can sit with your father while I go get groceries."
"I don't think—"
Jim held up a finger. "No. Not an argument. Not one word. You're not in charge anymore Dean. I am. At least until your daddy is better."
Jim stalked away and left Dean standing there, trembling. It took him a long time to move again and when he did it was slow, into the bedroom for clean sweats and his pain pills, then even slower out into the hallway and living room.
His father was sitting in the chair facing the television, his walker behind the chair so that he almost looked normal. His face was thin and still shadowed with bruises, the beard gone now, making his skin seem all the paler.
"Hey, you're looking good." Dean said when the silence had gotten long.
His father snorted. "You look like shit, let me see."
"I take it Jim told you?"
"He said enough. Come here."
Dean moved closer, turning so that the injured hip was toward his father. John pulled down on the sweats and whistled low. "That's gotta hurt. You get it seen to?"
Dean held up the bottle of pills. "One of the guys from the bar took me in. Boss gave me the night off."
"With an injury like that you should take more than a night off." Jim said, reappearing with a tray. "Water for both of you, a cup of coffee for you Dean and sandwiches. That should hold you both over until I get back."
Dean sighed as Jim left them alone together, then limped his way to the couch, lowering himself down. He grabbed the coffee and used it to wash down one of the pain pills.
"So how bad is it?" John asked a few minutes later, his eyes sizing Dean up.
"I'll live." Dean replied, his hand moving self consciously to the place that hurt the worst.
"I meant this so called job of yours."
Dean looked up at him, suddenly afraid he knew, that Jim had figured it out and told his father. "I…um…I…"
John held up a hand. "I understand, Son. I do. You did what you had to do to keep you and Sam safe, but now you can't get out. Am I right?"
Dean looked at the floor, at the coffee table, any place that wasn't at his father. "Something like that."
"This the worst it's been?"
"No." Dean whispered the word. They were way too close to the truth and he wanted to scream, to run away, to hide his shame from his father, certain that the next question would expose him.
They were quiet for a bit, Dean's face burning.
"You don't have to tell me what it is and I'm not angry with you about it. But you do need to get out, before you end up in over your head."
Dean couldn't look at him, couldn't breathe. He was in so far over his head he couldn't see daylight. He wasn't sure he could take much more. The next special gig or backroom dance could cause real damage.
He wanted to slink back to his room and hide. Instead, he sat there cradling his coffee and trying to find something to say that would change the subject to something safer.
"How's the back?" Dean asked finally, draining his coffee.
His father made a face. "Hurts like fuck. But better."
Dean nodded and sighed. The door opened and Sam blew in along with a whirl of snow around his feet. He shivered, but didn't close the door. "Dean, you got company."
Dean pushed himself up off the couch, frowning as he limped to the door. Sam moved out of the way, putting his backpack on the floor as Dean got close enough to see Sean standing on the porch.
"What the…"
Sean half smiled, rubbing his hands together. Beyond him, Dean could see the sky was dark. "Storm coming." Sam said behind him.
"Who is it, Dean?" his father asked and Dean shook his head.
"Just…just a guy from work." Dean replied. He didn't want Sean there, but it was freezing outside and he could feel his father staring at him. For the moment Dean was frozen himself.
"Hey, can we talk?" Sean asked finally, freeing Dean from his inertia.
"Yeah, come in." Dean pulled back and let the man in, his eyes darting from Sean to his father and back. "Dad, Sam…this is Sean. He…he’s the one that helped me last night after that car hit me.”
Sean settled a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I came by to see how he was doing.”
His father was squinting at Sean, and Sam was staring. “Lets go to my room.”
Dean limped down the hall with Sean following, sweating at the idea of Sean even being there. Dean shut the door once Sean had cleared it and instantly Sean had him pressed up against the door, his mouth covering Dean’s.
Dean turned away, pushing on him. “Are you crazy?”
“Come on, doesn’t it turn you on to think that they’re out there wondering what we’re doing in here?”
Dean shook his head and stepped around Sean. “No. It terrifies me.” He sat gingerly on the bed. “Why are you here?”
“Like I said, came to see how you were doing.”
Dean wrinkled his nose and touched his hip. “I’ll live.”
“I talked to Charlie. He’s okay with the no dancing thing, but he wants you at the club tomorrow night.”
“What?” Dean stood again, suddenly self conscious about not having a shirt on. He went to the dresser and pulled a t-shirt out.
“Don’t get dressed on my account.”
“Funny.” Dean turned to face him. Obviously Charlie didn’t think his injury was bad enough to keep him from being fucked. “I’ll try, but my father is already on my case, wants me to quit.”
Sean took a step closer and Dean backed into the dresser. “You can’t, you know that.”
“I can’t keep lying to them.” Dean countered, not protesting when Sean stepped into his space. Sean’s hands settled on his hips. Dean turned his face to look at him and Sean kissed him again, tongue gentle, but insistent.
“If you aren’t there, you know he’ll send me to find you.” Sean’s voice was soft, his lips brushing against Dean’s jaw.
Dean didn’t respond, didn’t move as Sean licked his skin and kissed his way up to Dean’s ear. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”
“Sean.” Dean stiffened, but still didn’t pull away. “My father…”
“Can you be quiet?” Sean asked in a whisper, his eyes sparkling as he pulled back to look Dean in the eye.
He was still looking Dean in the eye as he dropped to one knee, his fingers pulling just enough on the waistband of Dean's sweats to expose his cock. Sean licked at the tip, then around it before he took the whole thing in his mouth.
Despite his protests, Dean's cock hardened with the attention and Dean found himself leaning back onto the dresser as Sean sucked and licked him to the brink of orgasm. "Fuck…what…" Dean looked down as Sean grinned up at him. "You gonna leave me hanging?" Dean asked breathlessly.
"You saying you want me to finish?" Sean asked.
"Always finish what you start." Dean growled.
"You gonna take care of me?"
Dean glanced at the door, then nodded. "Yes. Yes. Okay? Just…" Dean reached for his cock, ready to finish the job himself, but Sean caught his hand and pulled it aside, covering Dean's cock with his mouth and setting a fast pace, until Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling as he came.
Sean didn't give Dean much recovery time, just spun him around and yanked his sweats down before he was unzipping himself and lining himself up against Dean's hole.
"Wait…wait…" Dean started to protest, but Sean covered his mouth with one hand and shoved in. Dean was grateful for the muffling hand, because he yelled without thinking. But in this too, Sean was quick, not wanting to get caught at it any more than Dean, he supposed. A few minutes later, Sean grunted and pulled out, coming into his hand.
Dean limped to his pile of dirty laundry once Sean had let go of him and tossed him a dirty shirt to wipe his hand on. "Shit. Shit." Dean rubbed his face and shook his head. "You can't…you can't be here. You can't come here."
Sean smirked and nodded. "It's okay, I got what I came for, Mustang. Relax, enjoy your night off. I'll see you tomorrow."
He opened the bedroom door while Dean was still getting his sweats pulled back up. Dean followed him out. Sean lifted a hand at John and headed for the door. Dean made sure it closed behind him.
"Problem?" his father asked as Dean leaned against the door.
"He just…I have to go in tomorrow."
"I told you, it's time to get out." John said indignantly.
Dean sighed. "Dad…just…"
His father shook a finger at him. "I'm serious Dean, one look at him and I know this is bad news." Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway and John glared at Dean. "Sam, Jim's bringing dinner home. Get the table set. You. Here." He pointed at Dean and then the couch.
Dean limped over and sat, wincing as the hip tightened. "I don't know what it is you've gotten yourself mixed up in, Dean. I told you I don't need to know. But it's no good, and it ends now."
"If I don't go, they'll come for me." Dean said quietly. "I've seen what they do to the ones who disobey."
John sighed and shook his head. "Tell me it isn't drugs."
Dean swallowed and shook his head. "No. Not…not drugs." Unless you counted the ones that Charlie plied him with to get what he wanted.
The door opened and Jim came in, juggling bags of groceries along with Chinese take out. Sam came from the kitchen to help and Dean stood uncertainly.
"We aren't done." John said. "Later."
Dean nodded and got him his walker, pulling it around in front of the chair while Jim and Sam took the bags into the kitchen. He could only hope that by the time they finished dinner his father forgot, and with Jim taking him in for physical therapy the next day, Dean could just get out and go to the club early.
It was better for everyone that he just go to work. No matter what his father said.
The timing was tricky. Dean had to wait for his father and Jim to leave the house, but be gone before Sam came home. He watched them leave and waited a few more minutes, then pulled his coat on and headed out with the keys to the impala. He figured he could head downtown, maybe get something to eat at one of the joints near the club.
He stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street, jumping when the passenger side door opened. Sam grinned at him as he sat down beside him, throwing his backpack into the back seat. "Where we going?"
Dean sighed. "You're going home."
"Only if you are."
"I'm going out."
"Dad said you weren't supposed to go to your job."
Dean groaned. "Dad doesn't get it. I have to go."
"What are you afraid of?" Sam asked.
"Get out of the car Sam."
"Nope. Where you go I go."
"You can't." Dean put the car in reverse, all the way to the driveway. "Go inside, do your homework. I'll be home later."
Sam shook his head and crossed his arms. "I'm not getting out until you do."
Dean dropped his head back against the seat. "You're impossible."
"I'm a Winchester." Sam responded proudly. "Now, are we going inside, or what?"
He wasn't going to win this one, Dean could see that. He turned the car off and opened his door. Sam held out a hand, eyebrow raised. "Keys."
"Sam."
"Keys."
Dean sighed and put the keys in Sam's hand before he climbed out of the car. "See, not so hard."
Sam was grinning as he fished his backpack out of the back seat and they went inside. Dean sat on the couch and reached for the remote, looking up when Sam dropped down beside him. "Don't you have homework?"
"Nope, got it all done at school so we could just hang out."
"Hang out. Us." Dean squinted at his brother. "Who are you and what have you done with Sam?"
"Funny." Sam punched his shoulder. "You've been gone a lot."
"Been working, Sam." Dean said, not sure why he was so uncomfortable at the moment.
"I haven't thanked you." Sam said softly a few minutes later, while Dean was flipping through channels on the television.
Dean frowned, but didn't look at him. "For what?"
"I know you did it for me." Sam's voice was even softer. "And I know that you come home hurt and that you hate it, and that you hide it so I won't know how bad it is."
"Sam…" Dean wanted to stand up and pace, but he was still in a fair amount of pain and walking only aggravated it. "Don't."
"No, you need to know that I know."
Dean froze. Sam's hand grabbed at his and held it. "I know."
Slowly Dean shook his head. "You can't know."
Sam sniffed and Dean looked up, startled to find his brother had tears on his face. "Dean…I'm so sorry."
Dean pulled his hand away and stood, wincing, but taking two steps away anyway. "No. No."
Sam was behind him, hugging him from behind and Dean couldn't pull away. "I love you, Dean. I love you and I don't ever want you to go back there."
Sam held him tight for a long moment before Dean pulled away. "It isn't that easy, Sam."
"Yes it is." Sam said petulantly. "You don't go. How is that not easy?"
Dean sighed. "They'll come looking for me."
"Let them come." Sam responded. "Dad's here now. He'll protect us."
Dean knew better. There father was in no shape to protect them. Not from the likes of Charlie. "No Sam. These guys…they're serious. And they're mean. I've seen what they do to people who don't do what they want, okay?"
Sam shook his head. "No. It isn't. You need to tell Dad."
"No! Fuck, no Sam." Dean limped away, pulling on his hair to try to ground himself. He needed to get control of this conversation before it got worse. "Look, I'll stay home tonight. I can…I can figure something out, but if I don't go back, it isn't just me they'll come after, okay?"
Sam frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
Dean shook his head and limped back to the couch. "You know I won't let anything happen to you." Dean said softly.
"Me?" Sam's voice squeaked a little as he said it.
Dean nodded and sat back down. "Yeah…but I won't let them near you, okay?"
Sam looked a little put off by the idea that it wasn't just Dean in harms way. He sat in the chair and bit his lip. They were quiet a long time, staring at some stupid movie on the television. "I still think you should tell Dad." Sam said softly a while later, not looking at Dean. "He'll know what to do."
"I'm not telling Dad. And neither are you." Dean replied. "I got myself into this. I'll get myself out."
Sam shook his head like he didn't believe Dean. "This is bad, Dean."
"Yeah Sam, it really is."
They stopped talking then, both of them staring at the screen until Jim and their father came home. John looked pissy and in pain and he leaned heavily on the walker as Jim held the door for him. He didn't stop in the living room, didn't acknowledge Sam or Dean, just headed for his bedroom. Jim followed, emerging a few minutes later.
"He's had a rough afternoon. I gave him his pain meds, he'll sleep for a while."
Dean glanced up at him, then at Sam and ultimately back at the television. He didn't want to get dragged into conversation.
"You know, I half expected we'd get home and find you gone." Jim said.
"Dad told me to stay home." Dean countered. "I'm home." His eyes stole to the door, wondering how long it would take…and knowing the next time Sean was here in his house it wouldn't be to suck his dick in the bedroom.
"I'll make dinner." Jim's eyes were still on him, he could feel them. Dean stared at the TV until he was gone. It was going to be a very long night.
Dean watched the door until nearly midnight, then relinquished the couch to Pastor Jim. He stopped to check on Sam, then headed into his own room. The air was cold and when he turned on the lights he discovered why.
The window was open, the cold November air blowing into the room. He closed the window, rubbing at his arms and turning to look around the room. There was an envelope on his bed.
His hands were shaking as he lifted it. He pulled a package of pictures out of it, stills of the boy on the bed, of Dean fucking him, of his face before they put the hood on him. At the bottom was a simple piece of paper with the words, "I own you."
They'd been there, in his house, and none of them had known it.
Title: every stone a story, Part Five (link to Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Pastor Jim, OMCs/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6827
Summary: Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt. The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts. What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.
A/Ns & Warnings: For the exquisite
katbcoll. Warnings include: under-age non-con, under-age prostitution, some violence. This was actually meant to be done in one part, but well...it ended up being longer than I thought...but these two parts ( 5 & 6) are finally the end.“Boys are rowdy tonight.” Adam said as he came in from the stage, sweating and sporting a big red blotch on his hip where he’d obviously been hit with something.
“More than normal?” Dean asked as he finished getting dressed for his turn.
“Oh, yeah…some gay firemen’s convention or something.” Adam responded. “They are going to eat you alive.”
“Don’t worry too much, Mustang.” Spike said behind him. “Charlie pulled Sean off the door to guard your pretty ass. At least until someone pays the dough to fuck it.”
Dean ignored him and went back to applying his eyeliner. He just wanted the night over. His father was supposed to have been released from the hospital in the afternoon, but when Dean called Charlie to get the night off to help out, Charlie had made sure he understood that not coming in to work was tantamount to breaking their agreement, with all the consequences that implied.
His father was going to be angry. Sam already was. But, with his father home, they were that much closer to getting the fuck out of town, and Dean was well beyond ready for that.
He could hear his intro starting and sighed, turning to head out for his first dance of the night. The place was at capacity. Dean cracked his neck as Back in Black started and moved out onto the stage. Drunk, half dressed men lined the stage, already waving money at him. He gyrated and moved, keeping away from grabby hands as he pulled on the snaps of his tight leather pants.
The crowd was so loud as he neared the end of the runway that he couldn’t even hear his music. He pulled the pants off, tossing them back behind him and shaking his ass toward the men crowding the stage.
Hands grabbed him, shoving money into his g-string, sliding over his skin. He tried to dance back toward the stage, but hands on his legs pulled him back.
“Hey!” He kicked, catching someone in the face. He was momentarily free of hands and dove for the pole, grabbing it and holding on as the hands came back.
He fought to keep from getting yanked into the crowd, then suddenly hands were being pulled off him, one by one, and he got his feet under him, standing tight to the pole.
Sean and two other guys were beating back the crowd and the house lights were coming on. “Get back stage.” Sean yelled at Dean just before he punched one of the men in the mouth. Dean didn’t need a second invitation, he kept to the center of the runway and grabbing at his pants as ran off stage.
He was panting as he made it to the dressing room, pushing past the other dancers. He was still shaking when Sean came in a few minutes later, pulling Dean into a back corner.
“Are you okay?”
Dean nodded shakily. “I think so.”
Sean looked him over. “Someone bring me a shot of something.” Sean said over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else until he had the shot and had handed it to Dean. “Drink.”
Dean didn’t argue. He downed the whiskey and handed the glass back.
“Okay, we’ve tossed the trouble makers. Charlie’s trying to cool the room off before you go back out.”
“Back…” Dean shook his head. “He can’t expect me to…after…”
“He does. And he’s got three private dances lined up for you too.”
“Fuck.” Dean pulled a hand through his hair. “I can’t.” He shook his head and paced away. “I can’t.”
Sean followed him and cupped his face in big hands. “You can. You can do this.”
“No.” Dean pulled back. “My father is home now. He’s going to….fuck…” Dean crossed to his station, pulling his jeans off the chair. “I have to go home.”
“Dean.” Sean using his real name pulled him up short, his jeans half way up his legs. “If you leave, Charlie is going to be pissed.”
Dean shook his head. "I don't care." He finished putting on his jeans, shoved his feet into his sneakers and grabbed his shirt and coat, already around Sean and to the back door. He was pulling his shirt on in the alley when Sean grabbed him and pushed him into the wall.
"Dean." His voice was a harsh hiss, his body pressing Dean into the dirty brick wall. "Charlie isn't playing."
Dean struggled for a minute, then Sean slapped him hard across the face. "Get your shit together. Or he's gonna send me to break your legs, not to mention what he'll have me do to Sam."
Dean froze, the image of Matty's brother rising in his head. "No."
"Then get your ass back inside, get up on that stage and dance."
"Everything okay, boys?" Charlie's voice came from the doorway.
"Yeah, Boss. Mustang just needed some air after that."
"Take five, I'll put one of the other guys on."
Dean nodded, more to Sean than in response to the words. "I'm okay."
"Not gonna run on me?"
Dean shook his head. "No. I know what I have to do."
"Good." Sean's mouth covered his, tongue sliding between Dean's lips. "Dance for me. Forget the others."
Sean's hand slid down Dean's arm, his fingers twining between Dean's. He tugged and Dean followed numbly, his mind stuck on the thought of Sam naked and bound and waiting to pay for his failure.
They stopped and Dean's mirror. "Okay?" Sean asked.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
"I'll be out front."
Sean left him standing there, with the other dancers staring at him. Dean tried to still his stomach, breathing slow and deep as he started removing his clothes again. "What are you staring at?" he growled at Spike who laughed and disappeared into the bathroom.
"Just breathe." Dean murmured to his reflection. "You've done it before. It's just a little longer."
The second time out was better, the crowd more controlled and as soon as Dean hit the stage he could see Sean there, hovering nearby. He managed to get through the song without falling or getting pulled into the audience. Sean was waiting for him back stage. He had another shot for Dean which Dean took without a word, downing it and letting Sean herd him toward the private room.
The man waiting for him in the shadows was tall, and he wore a cowboy hat. Dean couldn’t see much else. The music from the stage shook the walls as the door closed and Dean moved further into the room. “I’m Mustang.” Dean said, not used to the men who bought him being so quiet.
“I know. I bought you.” He moved away from the wall, and even when he was directly in front of Dean, he couldn’t see the man’s face. He squinted up at him and shifted his weight.
“So…”
He was answered with a big fist backhand across his face. Dean stumbled, his hand lifting to the pain blooming in his cheek.
“Don’t need your mouth running, boy.” He crowded Dean in against the wall, his hand fisting in Dean’s hair. “What I need is for you to hold still while I get what I paid for.”
Dean nodded as much as he could with the way his head was being held. The man’s right fist slammed into Dean’s stomach, doubling him over. The fist in his hair pulled him up again and shoved him toward the bench.
It was fairly obvious he wasn’t getting a chance to prep as the sound of the man’s zipper filled the room. Dean did his best not to struggle, not to tense up as the man pulled aside the g-string and rubbed the head of his cock over Dean’s ass. He shoved in hard and Dean grunted, biting down on the yell of pain that wanted to come out.
Once he was fully inside Dean, he let go of Dean’s hair, moving his hands to Dean’s sides, his fingers pressing in deep, fingernails cutting into Dean’s skin. His pace was brutal, slamming Dean against the bench hard enough to leave bruises on his stomach.
His right hand lifted, then crashed into Dean’s hip hard. Dean yelled then, shoving back against him. He was rewarded with another punch to the same spot on his hip, then the cowboy pulled out and threw Dean to the ground.
Before Dean could react, a boot came down on his hip and he felt something inside pop. He tried to crawl for the door, but the cowboy dragged him back, stepping on his right thigh to pin him down.
"Fucking whore." He stood, his heel digging into the flesh of Dean's thigh and jacked himself off, coming all over Dean's face. He bent down, grabbing Dean's chin. "Next time you're told to hold still and take it, do what you're told."
He stalked away and Dean rolled onto his side, muffling the yell of pain by biting into his thumb. The door opened and closed and Dean didn't look up, didn't react. He never even saw the next guy or the one after that. By the time they were done with him he was close to passing out. He lay on the dirty floor forever before gentler hands found him.
"Hey."
Dean cried out as Sean rolled him onto his back, one hand reaching for the injured hip. "Easy, I've got you." Sean's hands moved over his skin, checking muscles and bones and joints. When he got to Dean's hip Dean yelled again, clutching at Sean's hand.
"Fuck. Fuck."
"Okay, hold still." Sean's fingers probed the joint until Dean was ready to yell again. "Okay, okay. I don't think anything's broken, but I'm going to get your clothes and get you in to the doc, okay?"
He wanted to protest, but he was pretty sure he couldn't have gotten up on his own just then anyway. Sean disappeared and when he came back, he tugged Dean's g-string down and away, then eased his jeans up over his legs. It took some maneuvering to get them up and there were tears burning the corners of his eyes by the time Sean pulled the zipper up. He helped Dean sit and eased his shirt on, then knelt to put his sneakers on his feet.
Dean's hip screamed in pain as Sean got him up on his feet, but once he was up, the leg held some of his weight. Sean half carried him out the back door and laid him in the van.
A few minutes later they were at the small clinic that Dean knew was in Charlie's pocket. "Wait here."
Sean disappeared inside and came out with a wheelchair, helping Dean into it and pushing him inside. "Charlie called ahead. They're ready for us."
Ready meant whisking Dean into x-ray and from there into an exam room where he sat in his back open gown watching the bruising develops. From mid way up his side down to nearly his knee he was already purple and blue with spots deepening quickly toward black.
"Good new is nothing's broken. You're going to be sore for a few days, but I can give you some pain medication." The doctor said finally. "No dancing for at least three days." The doctor finished, looking at Sean.
"I'll make sure of it."
"Get dressed, I'll have your medication ready at the desk when you're done."
He left the room and Dean eased off the exam table, wincing, though his leg held his weight. Sean handed him his jeans.
"I'm going to take you home." Sean held up his hand when Dean started to argue. "I'll bring you the car. But you're not driving." Sean held his hips to steady him as Dean dressed and supported him as he limped out of the exam room.
As promised the doctor was waiting at the reception desk with a bottle of pills. "I'd stay off it as much as possible the next few days, ice for the next 24 hours."
Dean took the pills and put them in his pocket, shaking free of Sean to test his ability to walk on his own. It hurt, but he managed, though he couldn't keep from limping.
Sean drove him to his house, but Dean stopped him when he looked like he was going to get out of the car and help Dean in. "I got it."
"You're barely walking."
"I got it." Dean leaned over and brushed a kiss onto Sean's cheek. "Thanks."
"Hey, I'll tell Charlie what the doc said."
"Tomorrow's supposed to be my night off." Dean responded as he opened the door. At least the sidewalk was clear of snow. "So, I'll call you tomorrow." Dean closed the door and limped his way to the door.
Jim heard the car that was not the impala, and listened to the hesitant footsteps. Dean was limping. The front door eased open and closed again. Jim lifted his head from the couch, squinting in the dark.
"You alright there, Son?" Jim asked softly, watching Dean wince and freeze.
"Yeah…just…" He waved a hand and pills rattled in a bottle.
Jim sat up, reaching for the light. "What is it this time?"
Dean turned away from the light and started toward the kitchen. Jim stood, following him. By the time he got there, Dean had a glass of water and was tossing back one of the pills.
"I'm fine." Dean said, shaking his head. "Or I will be. Just banged up."
"Another fight?" Jim asked, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe.
"Car." Dean said, coughing a little. "Didn't see it." His hand rubbed down his leg, but he didn't look Jim in the eye.
"Awful lot of accidents and fights for a busboy." Jim observed, watching Dean's face tighten. "Anything you want to talk about?"
"It's late, I'm tired." Dean drank more of the water, then set the glass aside.
"You know you can quit any time. You did your job, you kept you and Sam safe. You should get back to school, let your daddy and me take over."
Dean shook his head tightly, his mouth a thin line. "No. I can't."
"It isn't like you need the money, Son."
Dean sighed and limped toward him, around him. "It isn't the money. Just…this isn't the kind of job you can just quit. Not without consequences."
Jim put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Let me help."
"No. I'm a big boy, Pastor Jim. I can handle it. It's just until we leave town anyway." He yawned. "Really. Pain pills. I need to sleep."
Jim stood back and let him go, pacing the living room once he was gone. "What have you gotten yourself into Dean?" he asked softly before he heard John in the nearer bedroom. Jim opened the door to find John half way to the bathroom, leaning heavily on the walker. "Why didn't you call me?"
"Did." John was sweating as he pushed a leg forward.
"Let me help."
John pulled his arm away. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, you Winchesters. The lot of you, just fine." Jim said before he could stop himself.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Jim shook his head. "Go on, take care of your business. If you need me, I'm right here."
John got another three steps before his shoulders sagged and he hung his head. "Jim."
He didn't say anything, just stepped in behind John to support him. John was a stubborn man, and Jim knew how much he hated being an invalid. They got into the bathroom and John murmured his thanks before Jim withdrew to wait for him.
By the time they got John back into his bed, he was trembling with the effort and sweating. "Dean's home." Jim murmured as he pulled blankets up over John.
"He tell you about this job of his?" John asked once he'd caught his breath.
"Not much to be honest. I don't think I like it much though. You've seen the bruises?"
John nodded. "Yeah, he thinks he's hiding them, but Sam tells me Dean's been coming home all beat up."
Jim sat beside him, chewing the inside of his lip as he thought about how much to tell his friend. "His hurt bad enough to have pain pills tonight."
John stiffened and adjusted himself against the pillows. "What? Did he say how?"
Jim shrugged. "He said he got hit by a car."
"You don't believe him." John said. It wasn't a question.
"No, I don't." Jim agreed. "You ever know a busboy to get so beat up so often?" He sighed and looked up at John. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he's okay. You need anything?"
John's eyes were already drooping toward sleep though. Jim stood, heading back out into the hall. He wandered down to check on Sam, finding Dean curled up in the bed with Sam, only this time it was Sam who was curled protectively around Dean.
Something certainly wasn't right. It was becoming painfully apparent that Dean had been lying to them, and whatever job he'd gotten himself to take care of him and Sam had repercussions the kid hadn't been prepared for.
Jim couldn't tell if it was drugs or something worse. He sighed as he settled back onto the couch. He aimed to find out though. He owed the kid for not being able to get to him when the accident first happened. Damned demons.
He rubbed over his face and laid down. Morning would come quickly, and he had a house full of stubborn Winchester men to take care of. There wasn't enough sleep in the world to get him ready for that.
The smell of coffee pulled Jim out of twisted dreams and he sat up slowly, eyes stealing to the clock on the wall. It was after seven. He scrubbed his face and stood, shuffling toward the kitchen.
Sam looked up from his breakfast. "Made coffee."
"I see that. Thanks."
He poured himself a cup and sat at the table. Sam closed the book he'd been reading and picked up his cereal bowl to drain it of milk. "How are you doing, Sam?"
Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm fine, Pastor Jim, other than the history test today."
Jim wrapped long fingers around the coffee mug. "What do you know about Dean's job?"
Sam made a face. "Not much. He works nights at some bar, comes home late, gets into a lot of fights. Takes a lot of showers after."
Jim frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
Sam shrugged and stood, taking his bowl to the sink. "Always showers when he comes home, before he even comes to check on me. Sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night and showers again. And every day before work he showers again."
Something about that set Jim on edge. "Have you asked him about it?"
Sam sighed, his eyes darting to Jim's then away. "He says he feels…dirty. Sticky or something. Then he got pissed at me and we had a fight." Sam squirmed like he was uncomfortable with the conversation. “I need to get to school.”
“Want a ride?” Jim asked.
“Bus is fine. I’ll see you later.”
Jim watched him go. It wasn’t a lot more information than he already had, though Dean feeling dirty was new. Any number of things that could mean really. But he would find out and get the kid loose from it. He owed him that much.
Dean groaned as he came awake, disoriented until he remembered falling asleep in Sam’s bed. He hadn’t even showered, just stripped down and pulled on his sweats. His body ached and his hip hurt bad enough he wasn’t sure he could move it.
He shifted slowly, easing upward until he was sitting. The dull aftertaste of the drugs coated his tongue and made him want to brush his teeth. He pulled a hand through his hair and froze. His hair was matted and stiff. He pushed himself out of bed and limped to the dresser. Somehow he’d gotten come in his hair and it was dried and stuck to his stomach as well.
Disgusted, Dean limped out into the hall, stopping when he heard voices. His father. Jim. The conversation stopped, but before one of them could call his name, Dean went into the bathroom.
He was mortified that he’d come home that way, that Jim had seen him, that he had slept in Sam’s bed like that. Dean turned on the water and tried to figure out how to get into the tub without hurting himself more.
It took him a minute, but eventually he did it, clinging to the towel rack and wall. His hip was stiff and the pain ratcheted up when he put weight on it, but the water was hot and felt good pouring over him.
He leaned into the spray, eyes closed. He could just hear the rumble of his father's voice, low, under the sound of the water. There was something comforting in the sound, letting him relax a little more. The voice rumbled to a stop and Dean opened his eyes.
He wouldn't be able to hide in the shower or his room now. He might fool Sam, but now he had his father and Jim to contend with. He dumped shampoo into his hand and scrubbed his hair, then his body. He repeated the whole process twice more, adjusting the water hotter and hotter until the hot was on as high as it would go and the water was cooling anyway. His skin was bright red from the heat except where it was mottled black and blue, yellow and green and purple.
Getting out of the tub was harder than getting in, though his hip did seem to have loosened up. He slipped, caught himself on the counter, but that only slowed his fall.
"Dean?"
Jim. Dean managed to cover himself just before the door opened, though the garish bruising extended on either side of the towel.
"You okay?"
Dean nodded. "Just…" He waved a hand at his leg and shifted around in an attempt to get up. Jim put his hand down and Dean took it reluctantly, letting Jim help him to his feet.
"That is pretty spectacular bruising." Jim's hand brushed his thigh and Dean froze. He couldn't move, even as Jim leaned in to see better. Dean's heart raced and his lungs stopped working. Jim was going to know. He was going to see it. Smell it. He was going to know—
"Everything okay?" John called from the living room.
Jim straightened up, his eyes dark as they met Dean's. "Yeah, John. Fine." He lowered his voice, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "We are going to talk about this."
Dean could feel his hands trembling, clutching the towel to cover his cock. "Maybe you could let me get dressed first?"
Jim backed off a step. "You need help?"
Dean shook his head.
"Okay, get dressed and get your ass out to the living room. You can sit with your father while I go get groceries."
"I don't think—"
Jim held up a finger. "No. Not an argument. Not one word. You're not in charge anymore Dean. I am. At least until your daddy is better."
Jim stalked away and left Dean standing there, trembling. It took him a long time to move again and when he did it was slow, into the bedroom for clean sweats and his pain pills, then even slower out into the hallway and living room.
His father was sitting in the chair facing the television, his walker behind the chair so that he almost looked normal. His face was thin and still shadowed with bruises, the beard gone now, making his skin seem all the paler.
"Hey, you're looking good." Dean said when the silence had gotten long.
His father snorted. "You look like shit, let me see."
"I take it Jim told you?"
"He said enough. Come here."
Dean moved closer, turning so that the injured hip was toward his father. John pulled down on the sweats and whistled low. "That's gotta hurt. You get it seen to?"
Dean held up the bottle of pills. "One of the guys from the bar took me in. Boss gave me the night off."
"With an injury like that you should take more than a night off." Jim said, reappearing with a tray. "Water for both of you, a cup of coffee for you Dean and sandwiches. That should hold you both over until I get back."
Dean sighed as Jim left them alone together, then limped his way to the couch, lowering himself down. He grabbed the coffee and used it to wash down one of the pain pills.
"So how bad is it?" John asked a few minutes later, his eyes sizing Dean up.
"I'll live." Dean replied, his hand moving self consciously to the place that hurt the worst.
"I meant this so called job of yours."
Dean looked up at him, suddenly afraid he knew, that Jim had figured it out and told his father. "I…um…I…"
John held up a hand. "I understand, Son. I do. You did what you had to do to keep you and Sam safe, but now you can't get out. Am I right?"
Dean looked at the floor, at the coffee table, any place that wasn't at his father. "Something like that."
"This the worst it's been?"
"No." Dean whispered the word. They were way too close to the truth and he wanted to scream, to run away, to hide his shame from his father, certain that the next question would expose him.
They were quiet for a bit, Dean's face burning.
"You don't have to tell me what it is and I'm not angry with you about it. But you do need to get out, before you end up in over your head."
Dean couldn't look at him, couldn't breathe. He was in so far over his head he couldn't see daylight. He wasn't sure he could take much more. The next special gig or backroom dance could cause real damage.
He wanted to slink back to his room and hide. Instead, he sat there cradling his coffee and trying to find something to say that would change the subject to something safer.
"How's the back?" Dean asked finally, draining his coffee.
His father made a face. "Hurts like fuck. But better."
Dean nodded and sighed. The door opened and Sam blew in along with a whirl of snow around his feet. He shivered, but didn't close the door. "Dean, you got company."
Dean pushed himself up off the couch, frowning as he limped to the door. Sam moved out of the way, putting his backpack on the floor as Dean got close enough to see Sean standing on the porch.
"What the…"
Sean half smiled, rubbing his hands together. Beyond him, Dean could see the sky was dark. "Storm coming." Sam said behind him.
"Who is it, Dean?" his father asked and Dean shook his head.
"Just…just a guy from work." Dean replied. He didn't want Sean there, but it was freezing outside and he could feel his father staring at him. For the moment Dean was frozen himself.
"Hey, can we talk?" Sean asked finally, freeing Dean from his inertia.
"Yeah, come in." Dean pulled back and let the man in, his eyes darting from Sean to his father and back. "Dad, Sam…this is Sean. He…he’s the one that helped me last night after that car hit me.”
Sean settled a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I came by to see how he was doing.”
His father was squinting at Sean, and Sam was staring. “Lets go to my room.”
Dean limped down the hall with Sean following, sweating at the idea of Sean even being there. Dean shut the door once Sean had cleared it and instantly Sean had him pressed up against the door, his mouth covering Dean’s.
Dean turned away, pushing on him. “Are you crazy?”
“Come on, doesn’t it turn you on to think that they’re out there wondering what we’re doing in here?”
Dean shook his head and stepped around Sean. “No. It terrifies me.” He sat gingerly on the bed. “Why are you here?”
“Like I said, came to see how you were doing.”
Dean wrinkled his nose and touched his hip. “I’ll live.”
“I talked to Charlie. He’s okay with the no dancing thing, but he wants you at the club tomorrow night.”
“What?” Dean stood again, suddenly self conscious about not having a shirt on. He went to the dresser and pulled a t-shirt out.
“Don’t get dressed on my account.”
“Funny.” Dean turned to face him. Obviously Charlie didn’t think his injury was bad enough to keep him from being fucked. “I’ll try, but my father is already on my case, wants me to quit.”
Sean took a step closer and Dean backed into the dresser. “You can’t, you know that.”
“I can’t keep lying to them.” Dean countered, not protesting when Sean stepped into his space. Sean’s hands settled on his hips. Dean turned his face to look at him and Sean kissed him again, tongue gentle, but insistent.
“If you aren’t there, you know he’ll send me to find you.” Sean’s voice was soft, his lips brushing against Dean’s jaw.
Dean didn’t respond, didn’t move as Sean licked his skin and kissed his way up to Dean’s ear. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”
“Sean.” Dean stiffened, but still didn’t pull away. “My father…”
“Can you be quiet?” Sean asked in a whisper, his eyes sparkling as he pulled back to look Dean in the eye.
He was still looking Dean in the eye as he dropped to one knee, his fingers pulling just enough on the waistband of Dean's sweats to expose his cock. Sean licked at the tip, then around it before he took the whole thing in his mouth.
Despite his protests, Dean's cock hardened with the attention and Dean found himself leaning back onto the dresser as Sean sucked and licked him to the brink of orgasm. "Fuck…what…" Dean looked down as Sean grinned up at him. "You gonna leave me hanging?" Dean asked breathlessly.
"You saying you want me to finish?" Sean asked.
"Always finish what you start." Dean growled.
"You gonna take care of me?"
Dean glanced at the door, then nodded. "Yes. Yes. Okay? Just…" Dean reached for his cock, ready to finish the job himself, but Sean caught his hand and pulled it aside, covering Dean's cock with his mouth and setting a fast pace, until Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling as he came.
Sean didn't give Dean much recovery time, just spun him around and yanked his sweats down before he was unzipping himself and lining himself up against Dean's hole.
"Wait…wait…" Dean started to protest, but Sean covered his mouth with one hand and shoved in. Dean was grateful for the muffling hand, because he yelled without thinking. But in this too, Sean was quick, not wanting to get caught at it any more than Dean, he supposed. A few minutes later, Sean grunted and pulled out, coming into his hand.
Dean limped to his pile of dirty laundry once Sean had let go of him and tossed him a dirty shirt to wipe his hand on. "Shit. Shit." Dean rubbed his face and shook his head. "You can't…you can't be here. You can't come here."
Sean smirked and nodded. "It's okay, I got what I came for, Mustang. Relax, enjoy your night off. I'll see you tomorrow."
He opened the bedroom door while Dean was still getting his sweats pulled back up. Dean followed him out. Sean lifted a hand at John and headed for the door. Dean made sure it closed behind him.
"Problem?" his father asked as Dean leaned against the door.
"He just…I have to go in tomorrow."
"I told you, it's time to get out." John said indignantly.
Dean sighed. "Dad…just…"
His father shook a finger at him. "I'm serious Dean, one look at him and I know this is bad news." Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway and John glared at Dean. "Sam, Jim's bringing dinner home. Get the table set. You. Here." He pointed at Dean and then the couch.
Dean limped over and sat, wincing as the hip tightened. "I don't know what it is you've gotten yourself mixed up in, Dean. I told you I don't need to know. But it's no good, and it ends now."
"If I don't go, they'll come for me." Dean said quietly. "I've seen what they do to the ones who disobey."
John sighed and shook his head. "Tell me it isn't drugs."
Dean swallowed and shook his head. "No. Not…not drugs." Unless you counted the ones that Charlie plied him with to get what he wanted.
The door opened and Jim came in, juggling bags of groceries along with Chinese take out. Sam came from the kitchen to help and Dean stood uncertainly.
"We aren't done." John said. "Later."
Dean nodded and got him his walker, pulling it around in front of the chair while Jim and Sam took the bags into the kitchen. He could only hope that by the time they finished dinner his father forgot, and with Jim taking him in for physical therapy the next day, Dean could just get out and go to the club early.
It was better for everyone that he just go to work. No matter what his father said.
The timing was tricky. Dean had to wait for his father and Jim to leave the house, but be gone before Sam came home. He watched them leave and waited a few more minutes, then pulled his coat on and headed out with the keys to the impala. He figured he could head downtown, maybe get something to eat at one of the joints near the club.
He stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street, jumping when the passenger side door opened. Sam grinned at him as he sat down beside him, throwing his backpack into the back seat. "Where we going?"
Dean sighed. "You're going home."
"Only if you are."
"I'm going out."
"Dad said you weren't supposed to go to your job."
Dean groaned. "Dad doesn't get it. I have to go."
"What are you afraid of?" Sam asked.
"Get out of the car Sam."
"Nope. Where you go I go."
"You can't." Dean put the car in reverse, all the way to the driveway. "Go inside, do your homework. I'll be home later."
Sam shook his head and crossed his arms. "I'm not getting out until you do."
Dean dropped his head back against the seat. "You're impossible."
"I'm a Winchester." Sam responded proudly. "Now, are we going inside, or what?"
He wasn't going to win this one, Dean could see that. He turned the car off and opened his door. Sam held out a hand, eyebrow raised. "Keys."
"Sam."
"Keys."
Dean sighed and put the keys in Sam's hand before he climbed out of the car. "See, not so hard."
Sam was grinning as he fished his backpack out of the back seat and they went inside. Dean sat on the couch and reached for the remote, looking up when Sam dropped down beside him. "Don't you have homework?"
"Nope, got it all done at school so we could just hang out."
"Hang out. Us." Dean squinted at his brother. "Who are you and what have you done with Sam?"
"Funny." Sam punched his shoulder. "You've been gone a lot."
"Been working, Sam." Dean said, not sure why he was so uncomfortable at the moment.
"I haven't thanked you." Sam said softly a few minutes later, while Dean was flipping through channels on the television.
Dean frowned, but didn't look at him. "For what?"
"I know you did it for me." Sam's voice was even softer. "And I know that you come home hurt and that you hate it, and that you hide it so I won't know how bad it is."
"Sam…" Dean wanted to stand up and pace, but he was still in a fair amount of pain and walking only aggravated it. "Don't."
"No, you need to know that I know."
Dean froze. Sam's hand grabbed at his and held it. "I know."
Slowly Dean shook his head. "You can't know."
Sam sniffed and Dean looked up, startled to find his brother had tears on his face. "Dean…I'm so sorry."
Dean pulled his hand away and stood, wincing, but taking two steps away anyway. "No. No."
Sam was behind him, hugging him from behind and Dean couldn't pull away. "I love you, Dean. I love you and I don't ever want you to go back there."
Sam held him tight for a long moment before Dean pulled away. "It isn't that easy, Sam."
"Yes it is." Sam said petulantly. "You don't go. How is that not easy?"
Dean sighed. "They'll come looking for me."
"Let them come." Sam responded. "Dad's here now. He'll protect us."
Dean knew better. There father was in no shape to protect them. Not from the likes of Charlie. "No Sam. These guys…they're serious. And they're mean. I've seen what they do to people who don't do what they want, okay?"
Sam shook his head. "No. It isn't. You need to tell Dad."
"No! Fuck, no Sam." Dean limped away, pulling on his hair to try to ground himself. He needed to get control of this conversation before it got worse. "Look, I'll stay home tonight. I can…I can figure something out, but if I don't go back, it isn't just me they'll come after, okay?"
Sam frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
Dean shook his head and limped back to the couch. "You know I won't let anything happen to you." Dean said softly.
"Me?" Sam's voice squeaked a little as he said it.
Dean nodded and sat back down. "Yeah…but I won't let them near you, okay?"
Sam looked a little put off by the idea that it wasn't just Dean in harms way. He sat in the chair and bit his lip. They were quiet a long time, staring at some stupid movie on the television. "I still think you should tell Dad." Sam said softly a while later, not looking at Dean. "He'll know what to do."
"I'm not telling Dad. And neither are you." Dean replied. "I got myself into this. I'll get myself out."
Sam shook his head like he didn't believe Dean. "This is bad, Dean."
"Yeah Sam, it really is."
They stopped talking then, both of them staring at the screen until Jim and their father came home. John looked pissy and in pain and he leaned heavily on the walker as Jim held the door for him. He didn't stop in the living room, didn't acknowledge Sam or Dean, just headed for his bedroom. Jim followed, emerging a few minutes later.
"He's had a rough afternoon. I gave him his pain meds, he'll sleep for a while."
Dean glanced up at him, then at Sam and ultimately back at the television. He didn't want to get dragged into conversation.
"You know, I half expected we'd get home and find you gone." Jim said.
"Dad told me to stay home." Dean countered. "I'm home." His eyes stole to the door, wondering how long it would take…and knowing the next time Sean was here in his house it wouldn't be to suck his dick in the bedroom.
"I'll make dinner." Jim's eyes were still on him, he could feel them. Dean stared at the TV until he was gone. It was going to be a very long night.
Dean watched the door until nearly midnight, then relinquished the couch to Pastor Jim. He stopped to check on Sam, then headed into his own room. The air was cold and when he turned on the lights he discovered why.
The window was open, the cold November air blowing into the room. He closed the window, rubbing at his arms and turning to look around the room. There was an envelope on his bed.
His hands were shaking as he lifted it. He pulled a package of pictures out of it, stills of the boy on the bed, of Dean fucking him, of his face before they put the hood on him. At the bottom was a simple piece of paper with the words, "I own you."
They'd been there, in his house, and none of them had known it.