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White Lilac Avarice

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First day in a new town, new school, new people. It was sophomore year for him anyways, so he was glad it was only the start of first semester when he arrived.
Sam Wesson was your typical goody two shoes. Straight A's, mommy's little angel, went to church on Sundays, never been kissed. He definitely stuck out the second he walked in.

The repugnant smell of too much perfume, sweat, cleaning products and the kids who smoked behind the school building during lunch break immediately greeted his nostrils, making his nose scrunch up in disgust. Overall, the school looked clean, aside from some of the kids in there who dressed almost as bums.
Yeah, there was this cliché movie thing this school seemed to have; groups of people divided into where they belonged- jocks, popular girls, druggies, skaters, you name it.

Sam was raised into an extremely religious family, always praying at the dinner table, prayed before bed, swore he would never... well, 'sin', as his parents called it.
On another note, appearance-wise? Sam was a sight for sore eyes. Brown hair that was occasionally a mess, thin fingers constantly running through the soft strands to push it from his face. And his face, now that was something all the girls wanted to kiss. Features carved by gods, lips than looked oh-so plump and soft, skin like porcelain, made to be painted in love bites, kissed by the smallest of moles and dimples, and eyes that could have anybody on a string; with colours that changed as the sun shone in them.


Now Sam was the typical kid who would keep his mouth shut and sit at the very back of the classroom in the only empty seat that no kid bothered to occupy. First days always went by slow, absolute agony in Sam's opinion.

Though he had a few of the freshmen, mainly girls with the sporadic boy fawning over him as he strode through the hallways, but he didn't pay attention to any of the eyes that were on him.

Except he should have.
Dean Smith's moss-green eyes dragged down the figure of the immaculately dressed preacher's kid, smirk tugging at his mouth as pretty-boy slumped over his locker, his red lips pursing in annoyance as he dug out a binder.
Benny Lafitte elbowed the tall football captain as he took a drag of his cigarette, dangling it between his lips as he cast a chilly look to the linebacker.

"...An' that's Sam Wesson. 'E the preacher's kid all the girls go on about. Never even been kissed." he said with southern twanged sadness. "Is that so." Dean said as he watched Sam go off down the hall before facing Benny. He had a mischievous look in his eyes Dean knew he was going to regret, goddammit-
"Anyways, see you in math after gym." he said before making off down the hall, wolf-whistling at Bela Talbot.
"Ah, shit." Dean swore as he ran down the hall, making it just in time to see his dad's disapproving look as he burst in, cigarette still smoking. "Sorry, pops." he said and slammed open his locker.
First day. And already, gym with his joy of a father.

Dean would never say he had been privileged in life, but he was blessed with unholy good looks, poison charm, a decent childhood with his gym and football coach dad and the God-given ability to bench press a 200. Seventeen and already the dreamy team captain of the Lawrence Wendigos football team with a penchant for bets and a pretty face.

So it was just brilliant that the Sam kid was in the locker next to him, fuckin' kaleidoscope eyes darting away shyly from him as Dean stared back at him, grinning darkly as he began to strip down to his boxers to switch into gym clothes, doing it fast enough to catch a glance of the soft curves of Sam's hips as the shirt fell over them.
Dean couldn't help but snort at the rosary around his neck.


All Sam could feel was two sharp eyes on him, watching him like a prey and Sam felt his blood boiling underneath his skin with the desire to turn and spit in this guy's face because he could easily read those eyes.

But no, Sam was going to keep his cool, fixing the loose t-shirt and tied the string on his sweatpants before heading out of the locker room and into the cold gymnasium.
Not a very pleasant welcome. He felt so out of place, surrounded by boys who were mostly pretty fit, inches taller than Sam and definitely knew what the were doing. Then there was Sam; kinda lanky, a waist that could easily be devoured by two hands and he was positive people would perceive him as an easy target for black eyes and broken bones.

Sam stood his distance, kept his mouth shut. Simple actions, it kept him out of trouble anyways.
Until lo and behold, their gym teacher had just the thing to worsen Sam's day; a pernicious game of dodgeball.
Half of the students cheered, half of them let out exasperated protests. Then everyone was divided into two teams. To be quite honest, Sam was almost ecstatic that the boy who had his filthy eyes sweeping up and down Sam's body was on the opposing team, because Sam wanted to smash a ball into that stupidly pretty face, in hopes that he would break his nose or something. That really should have been the last thing on Sam's mind, because it seemed that the very first ball that was thrown as soon as the whistle pierced through the thick air, it flew right by Sam. Inches away from his face and his big eyes now becoming wide and totally aware that the first ball was meant for him, and he had no clue who it came from.
One action got some attention though. One of the team's players decided to throw a ball directly at Sam, almost nailing him in the face as well, but everything seemed to fly by with the blink of Sam's eyes, because now he was holding the vibrant ball in the one hand he caught it with, a sudden sharp pang shot through his hand, the force of the ball seeming to shift some bones in there and burn the skin of his palm.
Sam just caught a ball and frankly, the kid didn't look too happy about it.

Murmurs were coming from all around Sam; shocked, a little intimidated, a few of the kids on the opposing team a little pissed, especially that one specific kid.
"He jus' caught my damn ball!" Was a sudden voice, deep, surly, explosive almost and it terrified Sam, the look in those yellow eyes made Sam want to jump in front of an oncoming truck.
The kid, and the one with the emeralds for eyes, seemed to share a look of confusion in unison, before the kid sulked his way back to the benches on the far side of the gymnasium.
/Oh god/.

Dean couldn't help it, a bubbly laugh of mirth erupted from his lips at Benny's pissed face as Sam just held the ball in disbelief. He looked up at the sound, and so did everyone else, but it soon changed into shocked gasps as Dean whirled around, scooped up a ball, and knocked the Asian kid next to him right in the gut. And that was all it took for it to go absolute mayhem, the rubber things of death absolutely destroying the other team. The projectiles finally stopped after Coach Smith blasted his whistle, giving Dean an approving look as Sam glared daggers at him. Dean flipped the kid off, kicking a ball back over to the bucket as the rest of the class trickled back into the locker room.

Benny cupped him on the back when he turned to him, laughing jovially as Gadreel and Michael gave him a thumbs up. "Excellent work!" he said and made a point of blocking Sam's locker next to Dean as he spoke. "Poor bastards looked like gators in the boatlamp." he laughed as Dean grinned, peeling off his shirt. He sat down, not really caring to put the shirt back on as Benny kept talking, pretending like Sam wasn't there until he spoke.

It was smooth and silky, like honey, but the unsteady waver of his confidence gave him away all too well. "Could you please move?"

That was the wrong thing to say to the linebacker.

Benny narrowed his eyes and slammed Sam against the opposite lockers. "Did I say you could talk, pipsqueak? I. don't. think. so." Dean didn't move to help when Benny accentuated each word by forcing him higher and higher until his legs were kicking and he was scrabbling for his neck.

Benny was about to open his mouth again when it happened, Sam's eyes steeled and his legs thrust down, pulling himself to the ground. He grabbed Benny's wrists and twisted them deftly, breaking his grip and shoving him backwards into the bench next to Dean with a pained noise as he stalked to his locker, changing quickly as Dean cast a pissed glance at Benny. "You. We'll be speaking at practice."
He turned to Sam.
"And you. Out of my sight."
Sam didn't hesitate at that, packing his stuff up and hauling his binders off as Dean kept his predatory glare on him before wheeling on Benny. "If he comes to watch practice or try out for something tonight, so help me God I beat the shit out of you for messing with the preacher's kid."


Sam's stomach was twisting and wrenching with every inhale of the toxic air. He could feel bruises forming on his back from how hard he was slammed against the metal lockers, marks on his arms and pure, utter fear in his eyes at the moment.
He decided to push the pain and the thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the rest of the day, because he was sure he wouldn't run into them unless he actually showed up in the cafeteria during lunch break.


The leaves were painted shades of deep orange, brown, and bright, pasty yellow, all scattered along the lawn in front of the school. There were several old wooden picnic tables lined along the courtyard, in which Sam generously seated himself at and spread the thick textbooks and worksheets across the splintered surface. His lunch consisted of a salad his mother put together and a bottle of water.
Sam ate like a rabbit, but when he had the chance, which was rare, he stuffed his mouth full of sweets and pastries that intrigued him. Thank his uncle for that.
The wind was cold against Sam's back and his neck, hair blowing into his face and he tugged his thick navy-blue sweater further down his arms on instinct.
Students who walked by with cigarettes firmly placed between their lips, throwing strange glances towards Sam and seeing him as that kid who sat alone in the corner at lunch, full of melancholy and a lack of social skills. It made Sam's shoulder roll forward, practically trying to hide himself from every single person that walked by.
Then he heard two familiar voices, not too far, gossiping or arguing, something amongst those lines.
"Why are ya so protective ov'r the new kid? Ain't nothing to him. He's just another castaway who's goin' t' get his pretty ass beat." Was the first thing he heard, that stupid, too thick southern accent that rang through Sam's ears like a fucking fire drill. He wanted to rip that kid's vocal chords out.

Dean smiled bitterly. "Have you seen that poor bitch? He can't afford gettin' beat up or else his big bad preacher daddy is gonna sue yours!" Dean finished as he jokingly shoved Benny down onto their table. He pinned his arms above his head and wiggled his eyebrows as Benny snorted, staring up at Dean. The two still hadn't noticed Sam watching the exchange.
"And besides, you said it yourself. That pretty ass." Dean said with a whistle as he let Benny go. They sat down and grabbed some Steak n' Shake bags from their backpacks and silenced to their own minds, Dean wandering to Sam.

Dean accidentally let out a moan and slammed his knees against the bottom of the table as Benny laughed at him. "Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, boy?" he asked and Dean rolled his eyes before sighing and leaning in.
"He's a virgin. And the preacher's kid. Never even been kissed? Hell knows I want to give it to him." Benny shrugged. "Ain't my type." He admitted but still nodded, easygoing look turning to one of malice as he slammed a fifty down. "Bet you double you can't get into his pants by the end of this month." and Dean challenged him with a look. "You're on." he said.


The air was still cold out, frosted with oak leaves and blue sweaters. Benny had gone to sit with Bela (correction: Bela sit on him) when the soft rustle of fabric caught the team captain's attention.
It was Sam.
"Thank you." he said with quiet earnestness and wrapped his sweater closer around him. Dean's fingers twitched to give him his varsity jacket, but he resisted and tilted his head. "What for?" he asked and Sam twirled a hair on his finger. "Yeah, uh, just sticking up for me in gym." Dean grunted and leaned back, allowing a drifted look to Sam's dress slacks that were clearly too small for him. "It was nothing." he responded and looked Sam dead in the eye after he noticed a bruise below his collar.

"You been scuffin' with my boys again?" he asked and Sam turned red. "It wasn't bad, I swear, some guy named Lucille- no, wait..." Dean laughed out loud at that one. "Lucifer. Creepy sonovabitch. Tell you what, I can kiss it and make it better or knock some shit into that bastard. Whaddya say, Sammy?" he said and the younger boy blushed at the sudden close proximity as Dean leaned in. Sam turned red, mind reeling. "How about just a name first?" he choked out and the jock winked.
"Dean Smith."

Dean Smith.
Name seemed to click in Sam's brain, flicking on a switch of some sort and it made him wonder about Dean just a little. What he was really like behind that cocky grin and shining eyes, stupid kisses of freckles over that godlike face.
But why the hell was Sam even thinking like this? He knew how wrong it was to be attracted to a guy, let alone a woman at his age. Well, that's what his parents had said to him.
But Sam could not stop staring. Dean was reeling him in as if he had a thin string tied around Sam's waist, managing to get closer every single second and neither of them protested. Noisome thoughts were crammed into his head now, making Sam's stomach seemingly flip upside down and making his skin visibly pale for a moment.

"N-Nice to meet you, Dean." Sam stammered, words being caught in the back of his throat which caused him to bite down on his tongue. Sam's pathetically small, dainty hand was reached out as a greeting, Deans hand, which by the way, fucking devoured Sam's, finally latched onto Sam's hand to accept the greeting. Sam was cold, and Dean was warm. Not-so-perfect combination right there.

But there was something about it, between the porcelain and the sun-kissed skin there, that made them seem like two puzzle pieces that perfectly fit together. Sam's hand retreated almost immediately once he realized Dean was holding onto Sam's hand longer than necessary, cheeks burning a bright pink which stood out so easily against his skin.
"Erm, well, I-I have to go." Sam stated, immediately turning on his heels and allowing his feet to carry him across the dead grass and back into the school building. The one thing Dean couldn't get out of his damn mind was that hint of a smile on Sam's face and those eyes; would probably haunt him at night.

His mind reeled and the rest of the day was blurry, he couldn't stop thinking about a certain new sophmore.

Chapter Text

Dean got home as fast as he could that evening, slamming the door to his room shut as his X-Files poster quivered indignantly at the treatment of the door. He threw his books all over the place and flung himself into his bead, mattress creaking in annoyance from his strong frame.

He'd been aroused out of his mind since Sam left him at lunch, that tiny hand and shy duck of head gradually pissing him off more and more during English, last class of the day, when he realized just how fully Sam could be overwhelmed. He was so petite and pretty. Pretty was the perfect word for Sam Wesson, Dean thought as he unbuckled his belt.
Fuck it.

Dean shut his eyes as his hand slipped below his waistband and he began to stroke himself through a (rather awesome, Dean thought) fantasy.

He was so easily overpowered and convinced, because all it took was a kiss before those slim arms slid around Dean's waist and he indulged the shorter frame in it, sucking and biting those lips until he was panting and his lips were swollen. Dean loved that sofuckingmuch, lips so soft and full and damn near bee stung as they trailed lower... and lower... Sam was the type to massage the hip bones, Dean decided, and he moaned at the thought. Sam was on his knees now, and he still looked innocent.

He pressed against Dean gently before undoing the zipper, and oh God oh God those cherry red lips taking his cock all the way was too much and Dean's eyes snapped open when he came in his pants.
Over a fucking virgin.

He had only known him a day.

Dean ran a clean hand through his hair and cursed Benny for all of it, all of it, and wondered if Sam ever thought about him at all.


To be quite honest, Sam couldn't get the thought of Dean's pretty lips out of his head. The way his voice was so low in his throat, could vibrate against Sam's skin and cause goosebumps to rise everywhere. His homework was scattered all over the metallic desk he had, office chair squeaking under his weight as he slowly spun himself around in it, head tilted back and eyes glued to the ceiling.

Nothing was helping at all, he was so distracted that his homework became abandoned and he ended up turning on his favourite show to get his mind off of things.
Nothing at all; it was ridiculous. But Sam knew he wasn't going to say a damn word to Dean, because it would get him in so much trouble.


Tuesdays, if you were allowed to banish one thing from the world, Sam would choose Tuesday. He despised those days, it always seemed to bring him bad luck in any shape and form. His bad luck today must have been Benny. Smug fucker wasn't even looking when he walked straight into Sam, the muscular frame easily knocking Sam flat on his ass, a small pained grunt coming from the back of Sam's throat as soon as he hit the tiled floor.
Books, papers, and even Sam's bag was lost. Not one person helped him, just a sneer from Benny as he walked straight past, and Sam also felt those eyes on him in such a filthy way as Sam got on his hands and knees to crawl around on the floor and get his papers. People were staring. Everyone was staring and Sam felt sick, felt like his head was spinning out of control until two large hands were handing him a small stack of books and loose papers. Those doe eyes trailed up to meet a face, gentle and had a hint of anger in there as well.

Dean had to give Benny an award, seeing Sam on his hands and knees sent more than dirty thoughts through his mind, but of course he wasn't going to be an asshole and let Sam suffer like this.
Help Sam first, kick Benny's ass later.
Damn, he was really starting to build up a fist-grudge against him.

And that's when he saw Lisa Braeden coming down the hall, looking him dead in the eye.
Oh, hell no.
Dean stuck his out hand to haul up Sam and he slid one of his arms around the sophmore's waist, soft skin bleeding into his touch as Sam automatically leaned in closer, Dean's hand swallowing half his waist and sitting comfortably on the curve of his ass. "Hi, Lisa." Dean snickered and the girl glared at him, and Sam just ducked his head to hide his blush. Dean gave a gruff laugh, the vibration from it resonating over to Sam who was trying very hard to focus on breathing when Lisa disappeared and Dean turned to face him.

It was a flash before Sam found himself pushed up against the lockers, green eyes glinting down at him as Dean's other hand slid down his waist and his thumbs pressed gently into the indent of his hipbones as he pulled their bodies flush together. One hand teased up to trace his jaw and Sam almost fainted, oh God, was he really gonna-

Dean's breath ghosted over his lips and Sam was stuttering, his cold fingers slowly creeping up to touch Dean's neck. Dean stopped at that, bringing his eyes up to Sam's as he pressed against him harder and got a moan out of him. It was medium pitched and whiny, and Dean swore under his breath as he dragged his lips up the side of Sam's chin. Dean was dimly aware of how hot and bothered they both were, but then the bell rang deafeningly loud and he was gone.

Sam had become inarticulate, more than shocked really, and his breathing bad become ragged as he stared with two wide eyes as Dean made his way down a hallway with this stupid, proud little grin. Sam remained pressed against the lockers, letting the cold metal calm him down as he ran a trembling hand over his face for a moment. That did not just happen.

Now he was going to have to get through the day without anything else happening. Sam almost /prayed/ nothing would, because he knew the trouble he would be in if things went further because this was a small town, and things got around pretty fast. One little move would be like a neon sign above their heads for everyone to see.
Sam knew his schedule well already. But, as he said, Tuesdays were a curse.

He had been hit in the face with a basketball by Benny, and it was probably on purpose, but thank god nobody saw him as he bolted to the locker rooms. There he was now, blood streaming down his nose and staining the pale skin underneath as his fingers shook with the effort to get his shirt turned properly, now stuck standing there bare-chested and a pair of tight jeans that made his ass stand out beautifully.
The sight would be a blessing for anyone who walked in at the moment; porcelain skin almost completely flawless, with tiny moles like constellations on his back, two dimples on the lower part, and those few bruises he had there from being shoved up against lockers.

The shirt was finally tugged over Sam's head, hair being tousled in the process and blood dripping to the clean, white fabric the second it was resting loosely on his torso.

Of course, he should have expected that. The sound of the locker room door opening, with a loud screech of metal, had Sam tensing, only just hoping it was some kid coming back to get water. The heavy breaths were almost all too familiar to Sam, then he saw Dean make his way into their aisle of lockers, eyes immediately locking, one filled with obvious fear and the other filled with something that screamed worry. Dean had easily noticed Sam had left because he had been watching him like a hawk; unfortunately, he didn't exactly see what had happened to Sam. Now he was standing there, two eyes full of horror and a face full of blood.

The bang from Dean's fist smashing the locker resonated in the closed space. "Fuckin' Benny do this to you, sweetheart?" he asked, the pet name slipping out without notice as Sam just looked away. Dean growled and pulled a med kit out of his locker, striding over to Sam and dragging him to the barely used showers. Goddamn him for protecting this kid.

He commanded and Sam gave him an incredulous look. "Pardon?"
"I said strip. Just the shirt, I'll fix you up."
And so Sam did as Dean said, and he turned the shower on until steam was billowing around them. Dean's hair stuck to his face as he put Sam under the shower head, hair and pants soaking instantly. Dean set about rubbing the blood off his face, applying anesthetic around his bruised eye and getting the rest of the blood off his chest with measured rubs of those big hands on Sam's chest. He only barely looked at the sophmore while he did this, the faint flicker of catgreens putting Sam in a stupor as he kept rubbing. Hair dripped into Sam's eye and the football captain pushed it away, shutting the shower off with a satisfactory hum as Sam started to shiver.
"Ah- shit, here..."
He put the sweatshirt Dean tossed him on, instantly getting swallowed up in the warm material that smelled like the smokes Dean liked and something that smelled like an apple pie baked right in.
It smelled like home.
The sleeves flopped over his hands as he pulled on the sweatpants, Dean messing around behind him. Sam dared a straying thought about Dean, his fierce possessiveness about Sam and that damn almost-fucking-kiss in the hall. His skin still burned where Dean had touched him.
One big hands slid around his waist and Dean spun him around to face.
"Let's ditch." he said and Sam's eyes went wide. "What? No! Are you kidding? We'll get caught- Dean? Dean! De, please." he begged but he just got a charming smile and was scooped up into his arms. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." he chuckled and Sam just crossed his arms over Dean's shoulder.

Sam didn't seem to protest as he was quickly led out of the school, grabbing a few things from his locker and damp hair still sticking to his face. Dean had a strong arm wrapped securely around Sam's tiny waist, the both of them walking to his car that was parked at the very end of the student's parking lot.
The car looked old, sleek black and burning underneath the golden sun that shone proudly above them. inside the car wasn't exactly a pleasant smell. Cigarettes, maybe the faint scent of sex even. Sam's long legs struggled a little as he got into the car, shutting the passenger door in unison with Dean shutting the drivers door. There was a look shared for quite a long moment, Sam's eyes seeming to widen a little as Dean's pink lips curved into a smug smile. This fucker knew what he wanted, and he was getting it.
"Sorry for the lack of seat belts, honey." Dean said, but he really wasn't. He violently swerved the car out of the parking lot as soon as the engine was purring, which sent Sam's body sliding across the seat and smacking into Dean with a grunt. Of course, Dean wasn't gonna let Sam go, wrapping one arm tightly around his small frame as he kept driving, one hand knuckle-white on the steering wheel. The drive took maybe thirty minutes, rustic houses and dead trees passed by as Dean drove down the road with speed that would get him in handcuffs. Dumbass, Sam thought, cause getting arrested on his second day of school was the last thing he had in mind.
Now Dean was driving down a rocky pathway, too many bumps and rocks hitting against the car as he drove. There was this nice, isolated place here with a river close by and an old cabin that belonged to Deans uncle who lived a couple towns over. Dean got the engine turned off, stepping out and shutting the door before he went around and opened the passenger door for Sam, like the gentleman he was.
Sam was astonished by how quiet it was out here, the air smelled so fresh and clean, and his ears were now picking up the sound of the river a couple minutes away.
"Where are we?" Sam asked, allowing Dean to pull him towards the cabin without protest. This cabin was small, a nice, rusty orange colour to it but a homey vibe. It was only one story, could probably fit two or three people but that was about it.

Chapter Text

The sign was a bit old, but Dean rapped it with confidence. "Welcome to Big River." He pulled the door open after grabbing bags from the trunk and going inside. Sam followed, and was surprised to see an amazingly well kept and modernistic cabin.

He saw the slat for a pullout flat screen above the stone fireplace by a giant couch, and if he was being honest, it looked more like a bed piled high with pillows and blankets. The ground floor was pretty open air with just that main sitting area and a small kitchen on the wall behind it. A ladder lead to the second story, and Sam bit his lip. It was pretty damn romantic looking.

Dean came around from where he was messing around in the kitchen and pointed to the ladder. "That's the attic. Bathroom and guest room, and this floor is pretty obvious, so I think I'm going to light a fire and you can chill out wherever." Dean put his coat on a hook by the door and started the fire quickly. Sam jumped onto the couch-bed thing and burrowed under the blankets, only his head sticking out as he stared at Dean's straightening back.


Dean's expression softened immediately when he saw the beguiling kid on his bed, soft lashes and softer lips pursing into a smile. "What?" Dean said and he started laughing when Sam shuffled around and procured two plump cream puffs from an unseen box. "What the hell, man?" he chuckled and crawled over next to Sam. The younger boy took a giant bite of the pastry, moaning as the insides of it squished out and painted his lips. Dean laughed, yanking the thing out of his hand. "Give me that." he said and put the rest in his mouth.

"Damn. That is good. Where'd ya get it?" Sam smiled. "My Uncle Gabriel. He runs Sugar Wings on 4th and he's the best family I have." he said sadly and Dean gathered him up into his arms. "Why's that?" Sam splayed a hand over Dean's stomach and sighed.

"My family is so religious. Dad is a preacher, you know that, and Mother is so strict. Church every Sunday, nice clothes to school, good grades, no girls, and God forbid boys. Gospel before bed. Pray over all your meals, be kind to all, control your emotions, be seen not heard. No swearing, smoking, kissing, touching, late nights, suggestive clothes, or anything like that. Be the perfect fucking son, Sam." he spat out and Dean rolled over to look long and hard at him, and Sam was expecting some philosophical statement, but not-

"Do you like me?" he blurted out and Sam was a bit taken aback. Uncle Gabriel had said that cream puffs are miracles, but Sam didn't know what he had meant.
Something deep inside Sam surged at the look in Dean's eyes as the team captain shifted himself so he was on top of the other. "I think."

Dean leaned in until they were noses touching. Sam's breath was sweet, his small body shaking as Dean's eyelids fell half-down and Sam's did too. Sam dimly thought that this was wrong, this was such a sin, it's immoral, oh God he's going to Hell-

And then their lips touched.
It was soft yet firm, and Dean sucked a harsh breath in after the soft press. They leaned back in, harder this time, Dean's lips and beginnings of scruff scratching at Sam as his warm tongue methodically dragged all over, stealing the rest of the cream off Sam's lips before gently invading his mouth. Sam was warm, syrupy sweet and soft as they pulled at each other, playing give and take as they rolled over and Sam was over Dean now.

It was them, just them, melting into each other as Dean's strong arms held Sam's tight, mouthing upwards at him as Sam pushed harder at his mouth, rolling his hips down in experiment and Dean was pleased to hear another moan dragged out of Sam, heady and lusty and Dean's hips rocked to meet his the next time to get that same heavenly sound.

Sam was gone now, lost to the hot stuff Dean was putting in his blood as they kept kissing, more forcefully each time until Sam's breath hitched and he bit Dean's lips. Dean stifled wanting to scream at that, because the fucking baby faced god that just came on him from kissing was taking his breath away. The air between the two boys had become thick, suffocating, Sam's breath hot and shaky against Dean's own lips which had become spit-slick and reddened from Sam's lips and that tongue, that was mellifluous and addicting.


The new feelings and the touches Dean gave Sam sent him over the edge very easily; his deep red briefs becoming stained with that sticky white substance Sam really disliked.
There was pure embarrassment on Sam's face, because the fact that he blew his load within a few minutes was probably ridiculous, because Dean hadn't even hardened that much below him.

Their mouths parted with hesitation, Sam's hair tousled and sticking to his now-sweaty face, those big, beautiful doe eyes suddenly dark and full of something else.
The once pristine soul of Sam Wesson was corrupted by the one single touch of their lips.

"I think I'm going to get up now." Sam whispered, voice a pitch higher. Slowly, he lifted his small body from Dean's, away from the warmth and the small bubble of air full of lust, glancing down at the wet spot at the front of his jeans, running dainty fingers through his hair.
Of course, Dean had this smug fucking smile on his face; he just made a preacher's boy cream his pants by barely touching him. It was too easy. But this kid could still look like an angel. Soft lips swollen and glistening with saliva, cheeks flushed a baby pink and hair beautifully tousled, just the right way.
Sam stood at the side now, both his and Dean's eyes locking, Dean now easily reeling Sam back in because now he had the blushing boy in his lap, long legs straddling each side and their clothed chests pressed flush together. One of Dean's ridiculously large hands found their way to Sam's cute little ass, carefully cupping one of the cheeks and giving it a nice squeeze, noticing the pink on Sam's face darken visibly.
Cold air coming in from one of the cabin's open windows, crawling up Sam's back and sending chills there now. But then there was this solemn look in Sam's eyes, finally coming to his senses and realizing what they had just done.
Tiny hands were firmly planted on Dean's broad shoulders, head bowing and strands of hair hiding those pretty eyes. "I'm in so much trouble," Sam whispered, voice seeming to sound hoarse now and trembled with every letter. "please don't tell anyone, if my parents found out, they'd lock me up in an institution. Or worse."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You really think I'd spill, baby boy?" he asked and Sam just gave a panicked look, fretting with the sleeves of Dean's sweatshirt he was still wearing before clenching his eyes shut. "I need my phone." he whispered and Dean leaned across the couch to pluck it out of his bag. Sam speed dialed 7, and soon a cheery voice sounded through the speaker.

"Hello?" Sam sighed in relief and Dean rubbed his back. "Hey, Uncle Gabe. I need to ask you a fa-" he was cut off with a shush and voices talking in the background.

"Yes, Anna, he just wants to know where the chocolate is. Oh- come on, give the boy a break, new town, new school. He's staying over tonight and tomorrow so calm your tits. Jesus, I can't believe I'm related to you."
Sam sniggered at his mother's indignant "Why I never!" before Gabriel returned his attention back to the phone. "So, until tomorrow morning?" he murmured and his uncle chirped a "yep! 'Right above the cabinet'." back at him.

Sam slumped in relief, tension bleeding out as Dean's hands came to rest on his ass again and the phone buzzed with static. "I'll see you, Sam." he said and his nephew managed a breathless thank you before hanging up. Dean ducked forwards, pulling back Sam's shirt as he started to suck and bite at his creamy skin. Sam's head automatically tilted at the sensation, stinging teeth clamoring with the slick slide of tongue. Dean leaned back, smirking at the purplish bruise blossoming on him, like Sam was just a flower in his garden.


They feel asleep in the stone-cool woodwarmth of the cabin, fire buzzing merrily at their sleeping forms. Sam couldn't remember anything past Dean telling him a story about werewolves, but he was suddenly jerked awake as the car stopped in front of Sugar Wings. Dean sighed, hating to wake up him up, but punched him in the arm. "Up and at 'em, bitch!" he sang and got out to get their bags. "Jerk." Sam mumbled.

Chapter Text

Dean took a moment as messy haired Sam stared at the familiar warmth of the bakery to frame him in his mind hours earlier. He looked so holy when he slept, hair like a halo and palid skin with marble-like purity and chill. He was easy to pick up, automatically leaning into Dean as he put him in the car during the westerly morning hours. The air was blue in the orange forest, washing everything in an otherworldly light.

Dean wasn't sure this was just about a bet anymore. Speaking of, Benny was sure to be a joy with questioning where the hell he and pretty boy had got to. The football captain could only pray Sam's parents bought into the lie and he'd stay safe.


The morning air was cold against Sam's face, fingers had already gone numb the moment he stepped out of the warmth of Dean's car. The only thing Sam really looked forward to when he moved here was visiting his uncle Gabriel.
Throughout Sam's early teen years, Gabriel was the only person he could call up when he was feeling lonely, or had a crush on a girl he knew he wouldn't ever be allowed to have.
He trusted Gabriel with every inch of his life, and felt like he was putting even more on him when he told him about him and the goddamn football captain. Gabriel was the kind of guy you could easily get along with; and he made one hell of an uncle. Sam hadn't seen him in person since he was just a little baby, so when he first arrived he was forced to eat a bunch of sweets, Gabriel being a bit bummed that he wasn't a chubby little baby anymore.

He had such a sweet vibe around him, sunshine and rainbows and a short and scruffy husband whose name was Rob. Sam was ecstatic that his parents were allowing Sam to stay with Gabriel for a whole entire week. Sam would have gained five pounds by the end of the week probably.


Sam could feel a gentle kiss pressed to the top of his head, almost as a reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Sam turned around, now looking up at Dean with these strange eyes, beautifully illuminated against the rising sun and full of so much emotion. It was hypnotizing. They both found themselves leaning in for a quick kiss, until someone hollered at them.

"Hey! No kissing on my damn property!" Gabriel scolded, walking out with his messy, long hair tied into a bun and an apron covered in flour. The horrified look in Dean's eyes made Gabriel throw his head back and laugh, that hearty laugh Sam already missed, practically throwing himself around his uncle and not caring about the flour that got all over his face.
A ruffle to his already tousled hair was the greeting Sam got, before he was moved back so his uncle could get a better look at him now, easily noticing that dark hickey on Sam's collarbone, so pathetically hidden under his a sweatshirt that obviously did not belong to him. Gabriel stood straight, though this Smith kid was a few inches taller, Gabriel was still quite intimidating, looking Dean dead in the eyes now.
"You hurt my nephew, you won't like where this rolling pin goes," he begun, waving the flour-coated pin close to Dean's face. "you get that straight in your head, hear me boy?" He threatened half-heartedly, those whiskey gold eyes seeming to harden their gaze on Dean's face.


Why, oh why, had he left for school early. Dean was currently being strangled against the wall of Lawrence High as Benny growled at him. "Where the hell d'ya go. An' why is there a rumor tha' preacher's boy is walkin' around witha hickey that screams 'Dean Winchester?'" he asked and Dean shoved him off, regretting not catching the ride with Sam and his fucking terrifying Uncle Gabriel. Dean rolled his eyes. "I took him to the cabin, we made out, I think I love him. What's new, Benny?" he asked and the Louisianan boy's fists clenched.
"Tell me you're lyin' and I ain't gon see Wesson with your handiwork. Tell me, Dean." He cast an irritated glance at him. "Jesus, Benny, why are you so defensive? Isn't it just a bet?" Benny walked Dean back into the wall. "Just a bet, huh. I can't fuckin' believe... three years..." He lost track of what he was doing, and they stared down, tea leaves meeting stormy morning before Benny stuttered and smashed his lips onto Dean's. The team captain's hands went kamikaze from the linebacker and Benny stepped back in horror.

"Oh God, I- I- sorry, oh fuck," he stumbled to get out before running off, leaving Dean shocked wordless and hands fluttering down where Benny's waist had been moments ago.
Dean slammed his head against the wall and swore. Did he really just freaking like that?


He slouched outside the school doors until shy footsteps lifted his attention. It was Sam, hazelnut hair cascading into his face over wide eyes. He was wearing a red flannel over his white dress shirt, which was five miles better than the stupidly strict shit his parents tossed him. He grabbed his wrist, pulling him down hard as Sam's swirling eyes locked on him and fell into the quick kiss.

It was vastly different, plump girlish lips contrasting the tougher chapped of Benny. The hickey was indeed visible and Dean touched it with a vague smirk. "Ready for hell?" he questioned and smiled to himself at the happy bakery smells coming off Sam as the bell crushed his reverie.

Dean was going to walk Sam to his locker until this time, he was the one not looking where he was going and it earned him a run in with /him/.


The taste of those lips against his was heavenly; soft, warm, a little side of growing scruff scratching against Sam's smooth face. The small moment of intimacy was over within seconds which Sam truly despised, obviously needing more than several seconds to actually cherish the kiss.
If anybody caught them in this act, the scandal would spread so fast that Sam would have himself locked in a supply closet, by his parents, within two days.


Today must have been their lucky fucking day. This kid chose the best of times to turn the corner there, almost catching the two boys in the act.
Lucifer, named after the devil and the name really suited him well. Girls swooning at his feet, and he probably fucked half of the football team. He was a pretty boy, typical gold-blonde hair and sky blue eyes, a smile that could make someone's tooth ache. Had a personality full of greed and bane. Not the kind of kid you'd want to mess with.

With a cigarette between his lips, he made his way out into the courtyard but was stopped in his tracks when he bumped right into his captain.
"Dean-o! Coach was lookin' for ya." He said, taking a drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke into the air, holding the burning paper between two fingers now.

"Was just on my way," Dean replied, trying his very best to get Sam out of sight and away from the kid. Lucifer's eyes were fast to recognize the pretty little doll standing behind Dean, lips curling into a smirk that made Sam's stomach twist around.
"Who's the pretty boy behind ya?" He purred, taking a few steps around Dean, now looking Sam in the eyes. Sam's body visibly tensed at the sudden eye contact, butterflies beginning to swallow his stomach and move up to his throat.

"Hm, real pretty." Lucifer whispered with admiration, stormy eyes looking the lanky kid up and down several times; then he was off, walking through the piles of leaves that were scattered around the courtyard.

Chapter Text

Sam's eyes followed him cautiously, but softened up a little once he was out of sight and when he felt Dean's hand around his wrist and dragging him into the school. There was something about the way Lucifer looked at Sam that made Dean want to tear Lucifer's throat out, with his bare hands. Filled his blood with the need to put him in his place.
He would save that for later.


There was practice for the football team after their second last class, meaning they would have to leave early. They had a game in less than a week and really needed to haul ass on this. There they were now, covered in sweat, dirt, new bruises and a little blood, then it was off to the showers again. Typical routine.


Dean didn't have anything planned with Sam really, because Sam insisted he wanted to spend his time with his uncles at the moment, so it was back to his house to pop open a can of beer, or maybe go with the team who was planning to grab a few drinks and cigarettes after practice.

Dean chose the latter, jumping a ride with Michael whose serious demeanor bogged him down until he passed Dean's favorite smoke over. "Light 'er up, my friend. Here's to the upcoming game." he said in his brash midwestern voice and Dean grabbed the joint, touching it to the lighter Michael stuck out. "Amen to that." he grumbled and Michael snorted. It wasn't long until they were outside of Benny's house and Dean cursed himself.

He had totally forgotten the team crashed at his family's mansion, and he dreaded his best friend's avoidance. They would have to talk eventually, and Dean prayed to whatever higher power listening that Benny would be ditzy enough to listen to Dean's reasoning, and he tapped the cigarette against his jeans as he walked up to the looming white doors of the LaFitte residence he knew so well, noticing Michael's glacial eyes stare at Lucifer's car in the driveway with a cold finality. He rapped on the door with one hand and they creaked open, revealing Gadreel's stone-cut features breaking into a friendly smile.

"C'mon in, guys. Beer's in the kitchen and I think Raphael has - ah, ya good." he gestured to Dean's cigarrette and a smirk twitched at the team captain's mouth. "Thanks anyways." he said with a smack to his shoulder and left Michael asking about Lucifer at the door. He picked through the veritable mass of jocks and snagged a beer from the table. He downed it, looking behind him to make sure no one saw as he ran up the stairwell.


Benny's room was three down to the left, door slightly cracked open as rock drifted out of it to Dean. He crept to it, peering in the strangely clean room covered in band posters and football memorabilia with Benny flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a cigarette in his mouth. Dean snuffed his own in his palm before knock on the door, leaning on the frame.

"Whatcha want, Dean?" the grumbling response came to him before he walked in and sat on the bed, Benny still not meeting his eyes. "If this is abou' this morning, Dean, ahm' sorry I had to go and fuck up everythin' up." His eyes were red rimmed and Dean sighed before turning Benny's face to meet his eyes. "Don't be sorry." Dean whispered.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Their gaze stayed hard, but Dean broke it, looking at his hands. "I should have been more honest about Sam. It's just- I just- damn, I like him a lot, and he's so..."
"Pure." Benny offered and Dean nodded. He turned back to face him, sculpted face twisting with something Dean didn't bother wanting to name.

"You want to taint him, ruin him, spoil him, I get that." That was a bit irksome, and Dean glared at him. "He's gonna be just some fun fuck, you're gonna end like Lisa-" Dean snapped at that reference, hauling himself to sit square on Benny's hips and pin his hands above his head. "You never, ever speak about that again, you understand me?" he snarled and Benny laughed. "I'll speak abou' whatever the hell I wanna, boy." he spat back and Dean dug his fingers into the linebacker's wrist.

Dean was about to have a go at him until Benny broke his grip in a fast movement and wrapped around Dean's neck, pulling him down hard on his lips. His eyes widened comically, brain screaming NO NO NO NO NO as Benny pressed into his neck and he accidentally kissed back. Dean was trying to stop, no no no he couldn't be doing this but Benny was so, /there/, that Dean seemed to fucking break, and starting kissing him back with so much force and vigor his vision swam and he saw stars.

He broke it, still sitting pretty on his hips with eyes wild as he rested his hands at the top of Benny's collar and Benny's rough hands moved to cup Dean's ass. He shivered, moving back down to kiss him again with the same fervor as before and Benny returned it as they started grinding against each other, rumbly moans dragging out of their throats. Dean was lost as to what was possessing him, but his errant hands sliding lower and lower on Benny's broad chest gave away himself as he palmed the taller senior below him, which earned a gruff "fuck, Dean" in his ear and a sting of a kiss on the lobe.


"Ahm'... really glad... I kissed you" Benny huffed as the coach's son starting grinding on him again. No doubt raunchy rumors were gonna stick themselves to them, that the team captain and the linebacker fucked at the Lawrence Wendigos post practice. Dean didn't really care. Benny was starting to mouth off at him, hands tugging jonagold blonde strands.

He felt so fixated, dropping himself lower and lower until he was practically making out with the bulge in Benny's jeans. Benny sucked a breath in as Dean undid the zipper, and almost missed Dean proceeding to swallow all of him- all. of him. down because his brain felt so short circuited.

Benny dared a look between his legs and was rewarded handsomely with lush eyelashes framing blown pupils focused just as hard as the spit slicked red lips taking him down was. His hips thrusted into Dean's mouth with a moan and was treated to Dean's tongue swirling lavisciously on him. Benny gave up trying to hold back and one thing lead to another.
The regret and quiet nag of "no" was ignored by Dean to some cost.


The next morning was Thursday, and both Dean and Benny woke with a start to the upset cries of his alarm clock. Last night seemed to finally set in for Dean, and he ran his hands through his hair. Shit, if Sam found out, if Benny starting talking...

If it was any consolation to Dean, there were white lilacs blooming on the walk to school.

Chapter Text

Morning was a strange air, too cold, too quiet, too many thoughts. The line of bushes blooming with clusters of white lilacs seemed to remind Dean of Sam, seemed to actually remind him how white and pure Sam's soul still was.
There was a sting in his ass, and alongside his skin where Benny left hickeys, on purpose. Claiming Dean. 'Cause if Sam saw those, he would know to take a step back from Dean.

Then sunflowers met a summer river, complexion much paler as the golden morning sun shone down on his face. He was there sitting on one of the peeling wooden picnic tables that was placed carelessly in the school's courtyard. From where Dean was standing, this entire scene just looked like a dream. A figment of his imagination, because Sam could not be real, but Dean was reminded that he had touched this boy and he knew he had to be real.

Pushing back the thoughts from last night, he approached Sam with this sugar-sweet smile and gleaming eyes, a burning cigarette resting between his lips and his hands stuffed into the front pocket of his washed out jeans.
"Good mornin' to you, sweetheart." Dean crooned, leaning against the picnic table, eyes not once leaving the beautiful piece of art in front of him. Blush crept along Sam's cold cheeks, stray strands of hair seeming to get caught in those long lashes.

Sam had barely survived the night; tossing and turning and checking his phone a little too occasionally to see if he had gotten a text or call from Dean.
None. None at all. But Sam assumed he had practice and had gone straight home to rest. Oh, he thought wrong.

Dean's night was full of sin, alcohol, too many touches that were best remained unsaid, especially to Sam.


Good mornings and goodbyes were said as Sam went to get an early start in the locker room before everyone else had piled in.
Bad idea.

There was blood running from Sam's nose, body bruised and strong hands around his throat, back being viscously scraped along the locker as he was lifted just off his feet, kicking and prying for his dear life.

"Listen t' me, pretty boy; make sure ya hear me loud an' clear," was the snarl of the all-too-familiar southern accent that belonged to an icy pair of eyes and a hard gaze. Sam's vocal chords were strained too much to let out any noise, could only reply with the smallest nod of his head. "back off 'f Dean, boy don' deserve ya. Don' need the dirt under his feet."

Those words cut into Sam like a knife, tears beginning to fill his eyes, both at the feeling of his heart twisting in agony and the lack of oxygen beginning to deprive him. Small hands and dainty fingers were prying at Benny's hands desperately, back being cut against the sharp metal of the locker edges and more blood seeping through the thin fabric of his baby blue shirt.

The first warning bell was, well, a warning for Benny to get the hell off of Sam, but he didn't seem to pay much attention. Then, the heavy scent of cigarettes and too much mint gum hit Sam's nostrils as Benny was now inches away from his face, their noses seemed to bump with every heavy breath Sam took. Fingers seemed to loosen a little around Sam's neck, bruises easily being left there on the red skin.

Sam could feel the roughness of Benny's lips and sharp facial hair against his lips now, carelessly ghosting over the trembling muscle. If anybody were to walk in, the way both of them were positioned would give any person the wrong idea. Slender legs tightened around broad hips, hands around his neck, lips just touching the slightest.


Dean's pencil thrummed methodically against the chipped desk in his algebra class, singing Journey instead of being the dutiful little soldier and scribbling down what the hell y=4(346x^2+74x-90) was. He couldn't be bothered to care. If Sam was in his class, he'd probably get all of this, but this was one of the few classes they didn't share. Dean looked out the window and regret punched him in the gut. Sam would be so fucking broken if he found out...

"Mr. Smith, care to enlighten the class what you're thinking about?" his teacher asked and he turned to face him. "Yeah, Mr. Alastair. I'm thinking about what hell is going to be like- oh wait. Isn't this it?" The class snickered and Mr. Alastair glared. "Hall, Mr. Smith. Now." He pointed to the door and Dean got up, sauntering off. He'd likely be out here for awhile so Dean peeked in next door to Sam's history class. He scanned the room, searching for peachy skin in a soft blue shirt.

He wasn't there.
Panic seized him and Dean grabbed his head, nonononono there were so many things that could go wrong. He started to run, echoing some twisted drumbeat as he ran out, slamming into the courtyard doors at full force and froze in his tracks at what he saw. Cold horror crept up his spine as he saw Sam and Benny, something beyond what he should be seeing.


Dean felt sick, tripping backwards into the school and sinking down against the wall, trying hard to suck breaths. His mind was reeling, this was too much for him and he started shaking, everything he had done finally catching up to him. Tears glossed his eyes, and he wasn't sure how long it was (it felt like four days, eleven hours, thirty two minutes and seven seconds- the precise amount of time he had known Sam) until two soft hands were pulling his face and a pretty face framed in rosy red locks was anchoring him again.

"Dean? Dean, listen to me, you're gonna be alright. Jut hold on, I- Jo! Go get Wesson!" Charlie shouted at the tall blonde behind her. Dean still felt sick and drained, but his cousin's careful askance calmed him like the lullaby his mom would sing. But then two stone-cut hands were wrapped around his and Dean broke, staring at the hands of Sam Wesson. He started hyperventilating again, vaguely noting the blood on his face but started sobbing because he tainted this perfect boy.


Dean pulled Sam in by the waist, grabbing him like a lifeline as he cried to him, tears not stopping as he said it over and over I don't deserve you I don't deserve you I don't deserve you and he shook like a leaf before two slender arms bent down and wrapped around him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it wasn't what it looked like..." Sam murmured, tearing up too, over the boy holding him like he had nothing left. They stayed like that, worlds of silence dripping down around them as time carried on.
It always does.

Chapter Text

Benny definitely got his ass kicked by Jo, who actually saw what was going on, tearing Benny away from Sam and well, giving him a broken nose and a too-bloody face. Sam was horrified for a moment, especially when the angry blonde had grabbed him by his wrist and yanked him inside.

Now Dean was trembling in Sam's arms, and he didn't stop for a second. Bruises were easily forming on Sam's throat already, visible to everyone who would dare to look at him. The words Benny had spat in his face were still imprinted in his head, repeating over and over, now with the mixture of what Dean had cried out. Sam couldn't do much, so slender fingers ran through Dean's hair in hopes of calming him down.


The two girls remained there in shock, not knowing what the hell had happened to both of them. Blood all over Sam, tears all over Dean, and neither of them wanted to approach them during their embrace. But, both girls knew this entire thing was trying to remain a secret.

It was a heartbreaking sight for a while, and Sam's breathing didn't seem as calm as Dean's as they both sat there on the cold floor, bodies trembling in attempt to keep tears back. Sam had no clue what to say. He didn't know how Dean saw him and Benny, he didn't know how to explain to him that it wasn't what he thought it was, because Sam wasn't that kind of person.

His first kiss was Dean, and his only instinct was to stay faithful to that.
Finally, Sam spoke, cutting through the silence with a hoarse, and scared voice.

"Dean... can you look at me?" Sam croaked out, one hand moving to Dean's face so he could slowly tilt those eyes upwards to meet his own. He met two heartbroken ones, full of regret and that was something that had Sam's heart shattering to a million pieces.

Two small hands now moved to a spot on either sides of his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheek and wiping those tears away. "Please don't be sad..." Sam's voice shook pathetically, tears started to stain his own cheeks as their eyes remained locked for much longer than they expected. "Come on, we have to get up," Sam whispered, finally managing to use all of his strength to get them both up off of the floor, making sure Dean was okay to stand up

Since the bell was going to ring quite soon, both would either have to part ways or stay together to heal each other.
Dean had a different idea.
A warm hand caressed Sam's face now, wiping away blood and tears and those eyes turned into a storm, full of anger and the pure desire to literally murder Benny. He wanted his blood on his hands.
And that, was an alarming thought.

Dean had an idea though, he got his and Sam's bags, thanked the two girls before heading out to his car, Sam protesting the whole way.
"Dean? Dean! We can't ditch /again/! You're going to get me in trouble!" Sam screeched, but of course, Dean ignored him. Sam was grudgingly compliant, getting into the passengers side of the car and watching Dean walk around to his side.


Sam thought they'd end up going somewhere else, but when Dean stopped in front of his uncle's shop, he was a little surprised. Both of them walked in at the same time, Sam still covered in blood and bruises and Dean seeming to keep a blank expression.

Gabriel had been behind the counter making a batch of cookies when he looked up upon hearing the chimes on the door, eyes falling on Sam and he didn't hesitate to drop the cold dough and come out from behind the counter, immediately taking Sam from Dean to get him into his back office and clean him up.

Then Dean was left there by himself to sit on one of the chairs there, suddenly getting cold eyes from another man behind the counter, scruffy and messy dark hair.
"Dean, isn't it?" He asked, a smooth voice and didn't have much of an accent to it. When he received a nod, he went back to finishing up the cookies that Gabriel had abandoned.

Then Gabriel returned from the back room with Sam patched up and in a clean shirt, ice pressed to his nose and he ushered Dean to come over as Sam sat down on the chairs, his gaze seemed to grow colder as Dean got closer.

"Sam told me about your fling with Lafitte. That true, boy?" He didn't bother raising his voice, but there was enough in it to send chills down Dean's spine. "And what did I tell ya, huh? If you're gonna be this boy's first everything, you gotta work to earn it, not crush his heart after he gets his first kiss."

Gabriel didn't look precisely human in that instance, amber eyes a bit too bright as he leaned in deadly close to Dean.

"Now you listen here, you arrogant dick. You are going to apologize to my nephew this instant and you better be praying to whatever deity you believe in that he forgives you. He is like a son to me, and if you think you can go around pulling shit like this you are so wrong. I have half a mind to tell your father about Lafitte, but Sam has begged me not to. You must be something special, Dean Smith." he finished and leaned back.

Dean's face burned and Sam turned away. Gabriel's husband was behind him, and Sam's slim fingers tangled in his, which were carding through his hair. He looked down at Sam and smiled softly, affection in his eyes towards the younger Wesson. Dean's head turned when a bell pinged somewhere in the bakery. Gabriel's eyes lifted and he broke into a smile.

"Now, I'm not bragging or anything, but my cookies do help ease the living fear of God I put in troublesome boyfriend's hearts. So you have two options. Eat my cookies and woo my nephew or get out of my bakery and don't come back." Dean laughed easily before locking eyes with Sam.

Gabriel leaned over to kiss Rob, fingers slipping up his jaw softly before they broke off with the stupidest smile and Dean tried not to say "awwwwww!" The two went off to grab the cookies and it was just Dean and Sam again.

Hawaii met the sea.
"I'm sorry." Dean whispered.
"I know." Sam replied.
"Are you mad at me?"
"I can't be."
"You forgive too easily."
"You let go too easily."
That last one hurt.

Sam's hand pressed into his face and Dean tallied the moment: four days, twelve hours, twenty three minutes and seventeen seconds since he had bled sun on the white lilac boy in front of him. "Forgive me?" he whispered and they both leaned in so their lips were touching but they weren't kissing. His felt like roses on Dean and he said "of course" as they pressed forward that last inch into something unrushed and unusual and vastly different than anything before.

They were still kissing softly when Gabriel and Rob walked back in with the cookies (albeit messy haired) and Gabriel had an approving hum at the amends.
Dean stayed over that night.

Chapter Text

The kiss had sent shocks over Sam's body, eyes easily fluttering shut but the sudden presence of his uncle there had Sam pulling back, cheeks flushed red and eyes a little wide.

Last hours of daylight were spent in the bakery, because if Dean wanted to earn one night with Sam, he actually had to work for it, since Gabriel was still bitter about what Dean had done with Benny.


The two boys were covered in flour, Sam's cute pink tongue stuck out between his teeth in concentration as he cut a few cookies into childish shapes. Gabriel had this smug smile, noticing Dean struggling but it was amusing. Sam seemed to help out, scolding Dean whenever he picked up the wrong thing.

Now they were exhausted, taking their time to wash up and Gabriel offered Dean to sleep in their third guest room, a little unsure about letting him sleep with Sam at first.
"Can I trust you bein' in the same room as my nephew?" Gabriel asked, wary look in his eyes and arms folded over his chest. Innocent little angel boy Sammy was standing beside Dean, thin fingers tightly laced with his and almost giving his uncle puppy eyes.

With a groan, he gave in.


Sam's room was cozy; several candles placed neatly around the room, a big bed that seemed like it could swallow Sam up, and of course, clean. Night had fallen, so their only source of light at the moment was the dimly-lit desk lamp in the corner of the room, seeming to illuminate against Sam's body like he was a dream or something.

He seemed to float around the room, moving some things around before he shut the door with a light click, now standing inches away with their fingers slowly interlacing. Then their lips locked; open mouth, full of tongue, too much saliva, and pure greed.

Large hands swallowed Sam's waist as he was lifted up with little to no effort and carried to the bed, the springs creaking underneath their weight as they both moved to sink into the mattress, Sam flat on his back but with long legs wrapped tightly around Dean's waist. Dean, of course, wasted no time devouring Sam, parting their lips so he could drag his tongue along the porcelain skin, 'til he heard that small noise of protest.

"Ah, no marks. Please." Sam whispered, voice seeming to go higher than it should. That one fading hickey right below Sam's collarbone was enough for now. "Now how the hell am I supposed to sleep with you without you trying to get your hands up under my shirt?" Sam teased, unable to stop the smile that grew on his face when Dean moved up so their eyes could lock.

"You're jus' gonna have to deal with it, baby boy." Dean purred, leaning down to once again capture Sam's lips in a passionate kiss.
"You two boys need a condom or something? Jesus Christ." Gabriel said from the now open door, Sam almost shrieking and nearly bounced off the bed to fix his sweater vest and compose himself, trying to hide under his sweet, innocent little smile.

"Don't you give me that look when you're trying to get into the team captain's pants. I was just gonna say sleep well, but I see you wont be sleeping much." Gabriel said, eyeing up Sam's legs still wrapped around Dean's waist. Dean rolled his hips forward slowly and Sam gave out a strangled moan as Gabriel's face crinkled. "Okay, that's it. I'm not going to watch my nephew get it on with his boyfriend. I'm going to fuck Rob- SHIT I mean sleep with- fuck this, sleep well." Gabriel hurried as the door slammed shut behind him.

Dean's eyes trailed back to Sam. "I don't know wether to be disturbed, horrified or in love with your family." Sam's head flopped back onto his pillow. "Wait til you meet my parents." Dean chuckled, and predictably pulled the hem of Sam's shirt from his pants and put his hands under it. Sam's chest was warm, shaking slightly under his fingers as they continued kissing from earlier. They weren't exactly clean about it, saliva covering both their lips as they ate at each other.

It was actually quite pleasant, just this messy intimacy of Dean, Dean, Dean, absolutely everywhere, confining only by how much they were touching. Dean had propped himself differently, biceps flexing as he held himself over Sam's parted mouth. The smaller boy leaned up, only catching a lip, but worked it between his teeth as Dean's hot breath fanned over his face. Sam let it go and slumped back down, warm and sticky fingers sliding up Dean's arms. "You're strong." he muttered and Dean snorted. "You think?" he replied and Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean had slid open Sam's shirt at this point and was currently heatedly making out with the pliant skin of his hips as Sam tried not to whine and tear the bed sheets. Dean's placating hands replaced his lips and he looked Sam in the eyes. "You okay, baby boy?" he asked and Sam nodded, pulling him down. "My turn." he said and Dean was taken aback as the sophmore starting biting at his neck and left an angry red hickey. Dean's stomach turned at Sam's smirk and he knew his hard on had to be pressing into Sam's legs.

He licked his lips, knowing what he'd do it Sam pushed too much harder. "Let's call it a night." he whispered and rolled to the side, catching Sam by the waist and pulling him flush against him. Sam made a choking noise at the hardness pressing against his ass and Dean just snickered. Served the little bitch right for turning him on like that. They slept well that night, late into the morning until there was a crashing noise and they both shot up, wondering what the hell that was.

Chapter Text

Sam was a little acidulous at the fact that Dean left him there with a raging boner, it made it even worse when Dean had his own pressed flat up against Sam's ass. He wasn't going to complain though, it was kind of nice.
Now the sun was shining through the sheer curtains, lighting the room as a wake up call, though that wasn't the thing that woke them up.

The both of them were sitting up now, Sam's hair a complete birds nest, shirtless and his jeans loosely hanging from his hips under the thin sheets. The two boys exchanged confused looks before Sam was the first to get out of the bed, floorboards creaking beneath his weight as he reached under the bed to grab a metal baseball bat that laid under there, rusting and ice cold.

Now Sam had it firmly gripped in his hand, feeling the warmth of Dean's body beside him as they made their way out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
To be honest, Dean saw himself being the one holding the baseball bat and keeping Sam safe and sound, but it was the opposite, and god, did Sam ever look so hot like this.

Voices grew louder the further they got down the stairs, Sam walking into the kitchen first and only came to see uncle Gabriel with icing all over him, and cinnamon rolls all over the floor. He looked severely disgruntled, picking everything up off of the floor and Rob was trying to help, but Gabriel just wouldn't have it.

"This is your fault, y'know!" Gabriel accused angrily, shooting Rob a harsh glare who had this stupid smile on his face, because Gabriel was the cutest thing ever when he was mad like this.
"How is it my fault?" Rob asked cockily, only getting an even colder look.
"You.. you know! You did that!" Gabriel implied, letting out a protest when Rob had suddenly pressed his lips to Gabriel's as an apology, licking up the icing that was there.

Gabriel hummed happily as he pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven, sweet smelling breads wafting out as Rob stood behind him, resting face on his shoulder. "Morning, babe." he muttered, wrapping his arms around his husband. Gabriel set the rolls down and turned in his arms, draping his own over Rob's shoulder.

"The kids aren't up yet."
"Mm, I know."
Rob smiled against his lips and pressed sweetly, the two of them simply being together in the kitchen. They broke apart and Rob rested his head on Gabriel's shoulder. "I love you."

That was soft and easy falling off Rob's lips, but then he nuzzled deeper into the curve of Gabriel's neck and starting kissing and Gabriel's knees went weak. "You taste good." he mumbled between nips and Gabriel brought his hand up to Rob's hair. "Oh yeah? That the best tasting part of me?" he challenged and Rob laughed. "Mmmm, there's something sweeter."

He started kissing lower and lower down Gabriel's chest until he was knelt in front of him with a wolfish smile. Gabriel leaned back on the cart the rolls were on- and he realized too late this was the cart with WHEELS so he fell flat on his back, cart flying backwards and he was splattered with icing and cinnamon rolls went everywhere. Rob was fucking crying from laughter, tears falling down his face as he clutched his sides.

"Uncle Gabe, what the /hell/!" Sam suddenly said, lowering the baseball bat as soon as he got the attention. Gabriel could only give his nephew a sheepish smile, slowly getting to his feet.

"Hey, kid. Sorry to wake ya. Why do you have that?" Gabriel asked, pointing towards the baseball bat in Sam's hand.

"Thought you were an intruder, I would have broke your knees in!"
Now Sam could feel Dean's strong hands on his waist, trying to get him to come back upstairs.

"C'mon, sweetheart. It was nothing, let 'em take care of it." Dean cooed, slowly taking Sam back up the stairs.
When they had gotten back into the bedroom, Sam set the baseball bat aside and slowly sank down onto the edge of the bed. And thank god it was a Saturday. Sam looked an absolute mess, a beautiful one though. Hair sticking up in the wrong directions, hickeys tainting his skin and now the sun was shining in on him, making him glow like an angel.

Then Sam noticed Dean staring, just staring at Sam like he was a dream come true, a piece of art set in front of him.

"Dean, don't stare." Sam whispered, shyly pulling the sheets up to hide himself. Dean shut the bedroom door with his foot before he sauntered over to Sam, carefully peeling the sheets away from his body before pressing gentle kisses to the warm skin there, making Sam squirm under the contact of course.

"Dean," Sam whined, but didn't protest as Dean worked his mouth against Sam's skin to create a fresh hickey.

His stomach twisted hard as he sank down fully on the bed, Sam smiling coyly at him. "You know, I was the perfect child a week ago." Sam complained. Dean laughed against his skin and put his hands on his thighs.

"You sure were. Now look at you." Dean said as he slid his thumb under the too-loose waistband of Sam's jeans, then wrapping both of his hands around Sam's petite waist. Sam went a little woozy over how easily Dean could cover him up and give him the worst eyes in the best way.

Dean bent back over to continue his ministrations on Sam's hips and wasted no time in slicking them up with the slide of his tongue and the sting of his teeth. Sam started squirming when Dean's hands slid up and down his sides, and his hands began to pull at his shirt.

Dean looked up with a raised eyebrow, and was rather surprised to see Sam in worse shape than he thought. He was panting and rosy faced, hair splayed around his face. Dean pulled off his shirt. "Is it just me or is it hot in here?"

Sam made a strangled noise in his throat at Dean sitting between his legs, freckles like cinnamon dusting on his collarbone, perfectly sculpted and just a little bit sweaty.

Well, goddamn.

Dean loomed above him, straining to keep himself up as Sam's hands delicately traced the dips and curves of his chest, their breath mixing as Sam's pants became a little uncomfortable and was acutely aware of how very very real Dean was and how very very heavy the air felt.

Dean leaned back and smiled, his candy apple eyes twinkling like ferris wheel lights and skin like the hard-rubbed metal of a roller coaster. Sam liked to think of Dean as a carnival, all fun and games and poisonously sweet heat tempting you to always do more, more, more.


The team captain looked proudly down at his handiwork, pretty little red bruises sprinkling the hard lines of Sam's waist. Dean locked eyes with him as he started to drag Sam's jeans down. When he finished that, Dean allowed himself a little laugh at the Doctor Who boxers Sam was wearing. Circular Gallifreyan swirled across the fabric, childlike compared to the not-so-childlike look in Sam's eyes.

"Gonna do something," he rasped "captain?"

Ho-ly shit.
Dean moaned at that, because who the hell thought that the preacher's kid could say something in such a filthy way.
"I don't know, am I?"

Sam's eyes had a little bit of something in there that definitely did not scream innocent. They were dark, pupils blown and his entire expression was just lust. The sun was shining in through the curtains, illuminating the bed area and making the angry marks on Sam's delicate body stand out even more. Sam's long legs were spread a little so Dean could easily sit between them, fingers trailing over the warm skin and memorizing every little detail there.

Dean was absolutely beautiful, a piece of art that Sam was glad he could admire every day.


When Sam's sudden words had drawn a moan out of Dean, it made him tense up, at the fact that he could so easily arouse Dean like that. The question had Sam's lips curling into a dirty smirk though.

"You want to. I know you do." Sam whispered, letting out a squeak when both of his hands were pinned above his head and Dean's face was inches from his, their eyes meeting with one full of lust, and the other full of greed. Dean's breath was hot against Sam's lips, teasing him and making Sam whine beneath him and his hips were pressed into Sam.

Before Sam knew it, Dean's lips were travelling down his body, hands slowly trailing downwards as well, until he was sucking another fresh bruise onto his lower stomach, Sam's breath hitching in his throat and his eyes rolling back a little. Then he felt it, hot breaths against the straining fabric of Sam's boxers.

Dean's eyes flicked up to check Sam's face, seeing a small nod of approval when their eyes met, and Dean slowly yanked Sam's boxers down until his aching length popped out, Dean eyeing it for a moment. It took him less than a few seconds to lick a stripe up the warm flesh, pressing a wet kiss to the tip before he swallowed Sam down, immediately getting the prettiest noise from him. He was reminded that Sam's uncle was downstairs, so Dean pulled off with a pop and gave Sam a warning look.

"You gotta be quiet for me baby, alright? Don't want anybody to hear you." Dean purred, pressing a kiss to the inside of Sam's thighs before he got back to working his mouth on that pretty dick of Sam's, loving the strained sounds Sam let out and the movements of his hips every time Dean would have Sam right down his throat.

Sam was an absolute mess, squirming around the bed, fingers tangling through his hair and occasionally through Dean's. Sam didn't realize how fast he blew his load down Dean's throat until Dean was pulling off, wiping some of the salty substance from the corner of his mouth as he swallowed down the rest, a smirk on his face that made Sam sit up just a little, cheeks red and his entire body flaming.

"That was delicious." he snickered, cum still smeared on the sides of his mouth. Sam hastily pulled his boxers back up and tried to hide his crimson blush but Dean just laughed as he licked the remnants off his lips. "Wanna help with this or...?" Dean gestured to his own tight pants, and Sam's toothy grin told him all he needed.

Chapter Text

After finishing up with Sam, the two came downstairs to see Gabriel and Rob placidly nursing coffee and muffins, Rob's legs in Gabe's lap as he read the paper. They both mumbled a greeting to the boys and Sam wrinkled his nose in annoyance at the smell that hung in the air. Gabriel set his paper down and raised an eyebrow at that. "You think you're in any position to judge, kiddo? Don't think I didn't hear you two having at it." Dean turned beet red and Rob snorted. "At least we're quiet for the most part."


Weekend practice.
That's why Dean had to go, leave the homely inclinations of the Wessons and smooth touch of Sam to ruin freshcut turf and mudstain white jerseys. Dean loved football, he did, but seeing his dad wasn't desirable. He never really cared Dean was rarely at home anyways and Dean's stinging outbursts and habit of tangy vivace towards him put more than a strain on their relationship.


"Alright, ladies! We're doing defensive blocks today! Penikett, Morningstar, Harvelle, and Miltons, you're on Lafitte's team! The rest of you, Smith! I want you lined up with a partner and ready to practice tackles in thirty seconds or it's a lap every second you go over!" Coach John roared, and the entire team scrambled to pair up with the opposing team. It was easy enough, the jumble of juniors on up pairing with another, glaring through the slats of their helmets at each other.

Of-fucking-COURSE Dean gets stuck with Benny, the brunt edge of regret once again making him see red as the Louisianan boy gave him a triumphant smirk.

That whistle blasted like a knife slice, and Dean's mind went temporarily offline, slamming full force into Benny, knocking him to the ground hard. With iron resolve, he yanked off the linebacker's helmet and started punching him, only vaguely hearing the misty screams of his teammates and dad as he felt bone snap and the blood covering his hands brought him back, the sickening scent of it making Dean go dizzy as Michael and Gadreel pulled him off Benny.

Staring at his hands, later that day, blood tainting the rough hewn edges of his skin, something dark rooted itself in Dean Smith.
Because he had liked it.


Rumours went around fast, Sam overheard about something happening between Dean and Benny but wasn't exactly clear on what had happened. All he knew was Benny had to leave from too many broken bones on his face. He knew it must've been bloody.

Sunday morning, dreadful. Sam would rather dig his grave that go to church, because it also meant seeing his parents.
Gabriel and Rob had somewhat overslept, leaving Sam to get ready by himself and walk to church, being greeted by his mother Anna, who had a sweet smile on her face as she leaned over to press a kiss to the side of Sam's head.

They found their spot on one of the benches, Sam glancing around him until his eyes suddenly fell upon Dean at the very back, widening a little because what the hell was he doing here?

Dean's father had found out about him and Sam. The sudden hickeys on Dean's neck and he even overheard the rumour about Dean and Benny's little fling, and thought he would teach his son a lesson.

That boys were a sin.

This meant bad news for both of them, because if Sam's parents found out it would mean living hell for him.


And it ended up being fire dropped to Sam's shoulders, eyes filled with tears as looks of disgust were shot at him, disbelief and disgusting words were shot at him, because Dean's father had called both him and Dean out on their actions.

It felt like acid was poured into the opening wounds, poison from the pulpit burning every inch of Sam as he was dragged out of the church, but repeatedly protested and tried to get Dean to look at him, letting out cries, begs, nearly punching his father in the face as he was dragged out and heard Dean scream after him.

Then Sam was gone, silence fell like a blanket of darkness and Dean stood there, eyes swallowed up with tears and his heart sitting in his stomach.


Sam grunted as he was shoved into the hardwood floor of his parents' living room, feeling the burn of the wood against his skin as he skidded on his knees, quickly scrambling to get his back to the nearest wall as possible to he could get to his feet, his father now looming over him with pure rage in his eyes.

"You were with a boy?! A boy?! For fuck's sake, Samuel! What did we tell you?!" He bellowed, making Sam cower beneath him.

Slurs were shot at him, cut through his skin like a knife, made his gut twist and his heart turn to a million pieces.
"My son is a failure!" Anna sobbed, holding a shaky hand over her mouth and trying to hold back her tears.
"We tried to raise you to be a good son! And this is what you do! Go behind our backs and fuck some stupid boy!"
Then that was the last straw.

"Dean is NOT stupid!" Sam suddenly roared, immediately making them both shut up, staring at Sam like he had gone metal. "Dean is smarter than you two will ever be! Dean is the one person who shows me real respect, doesn't lie to me, doesn't treat me like a piece of fucking garbage like you two do! He accepts me for who I am and he takes care of me! Even when he messed up he always came back." Sam's voice cracked with every word, choking on the air around him that had suddenly become too thick.

"If you don't respect my decision, don't realize that I'm actually happy for once, I will walk out of here and never come back." Sam's voice broke at the last few words, and his mother looked so unbelievably heartbroken.
It resulted in Sam being locked in his room for quite some time.


Gabriel however, was freaking. He overheard what had happened at the church and paced around his bedroom, having called Sam so many times he had filled up his message inbox. Rob was seated on the edge of their bed, silent, watching him pace back and forth and could feel his gut wrenching a little.
"Sam's parents wouldn't hurt him, right? Physically?" Rob finally asked, breaking the silence between them and watching Gabriel finally sink down onto the bed beside him.

Gabriel ran a trembling hand down his face before he exhaled and looked at his husband in the eyes.
"Not sure. But emotionally? Kid has to be a wreck."

Chapter Text

Dean started running as soon as he could.

He grabbed Baby, swung by home to pick up what he needed and started calling Charlie. "Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up..." he prayed.

He exhaled and released his his grip slightly on the steering wheel. "Charlie, listen to me. I'm coming over, I don't know how long I'm staying. I can't stay at home and I just- I'm fucking worried about Sam..." There was a long silence and then Charlie yelled at her mom. "Mom? Can you get the guest room ready for Dean and Sam?" There was a muffled reply of "sure, honey." and
Dean heard the phone shuffle around. "Do I wanna ask?" she said and Dean turned down Main Street and pulled up to Sugar Wings. "No. You don't. Thanks for understanding, I just... I have to go. I'll see you soon."
he said. "Take care of yourself, Dean." she replied and the sound of static like his thoughts whispered through.

The bell jangled when he walked in, and a cold feeling flooded his body as he saw Rob desperately trying to calm and panicking Gabriel. "It'll be fine, I promise, we'll see him soon." he murmured and a bad feeling gripped his heart. "Sam isn't here?" he asked and Gabriel turned to him. "No." he choked out. "We haven't heard from him for hours, and if Inias does something, I swear to God I'll snap his neck, he can't hurt my little moose..."

The nickname struck something in Dean and he wrung his hands. "Mr. Wesson, I promise I'll get Sam." All he got in return was sad eyes.
He didn't hear it when he whispered "I don't want to lose you both."


Sam felt jittery and sick, pain in every form overwhelming him. His delicate form knelt broken in the corner of his room, tears slipping out of his eyes in a hot cascade of failure, failure, failure. His parents had his phone, and he had no way to contact his uncles or Dean.
And just when he thought it was bad, it got worse.


Dean slammed the door open to the Wesson residence and shocked a redhaired woman who shared the same fair features as Sam. "Who the hell are you?! Get out of my house!" she screamed and Dean stormed over to her. "Now you listen to me. My name is Dean Smith. I'm here to pick up your 'disappointment' of a son and take him to a proper home. So I suggest you get out of my way, so help me God." Anna sneered at him. "You're going to hell." Dean laughed in her face. "I'll see you there." he spat as he stormed upstairs in search of Sam. Dean looked down the hallway, slamming open the door that Sam's bitter spits of retort were coming from. Dean's heart stopped when he looked inside, Sam and Inias arguing horribly.

This was an odd time to be proud of Sam, standing his ground and looking his father in the eye, the other one bruised and purpling. "I'M YOUR SON! I'm human, and if you can't see that then... You. Are. Not. My. Father." They hadn't noticed Dean yet, but when Dean saw Inias' fist start to raise, he snapped.
He grabbed Inias by the back of his shirt and shoved him against the wall, holding his collar with the grapple of his fist. "You better fucking pay attention to me. If you ever think you can treat Sam, MY Sam, that way, you're wrong. Watch your back, Inias Wesson, because I swear on my grave you will die at my hands. And I will relish it." he snarled.

He was so shocked and horrified by Dean's words he did nothing when Dean turned around and scooped Sam into his arms.
"I love you." he murmured.

Sam clutched his shirt and begged him with his eyes. "Let's go."
It wasn't too long after Dean hauled him out into Baby that they were outside of Sugar Wings. Sam was attached to his hip per usual when they drove, and they hesitated before getting out.

They both kinda knew it was coming, but Dean initiated it.

"Limerence." Dean whispered before pushing him down onto the seat and kissing him hard. Sam's hands found the downy strands of Dean's hair and their mouths slid open, saline but warm with tears and welcome, Dean's hands sliding under Sam's shoulder blades before they broke apart. "Let's get you to Rob and Gabe." he said and Sam nodded.

When Sam got inside, Gabriel cried in relief and clutched him close. "Oh God, kiddo, I was so worried!" he sobbed as he rubbed Sam's hair. "Thank you, Dean." he said when Rob picked Sam up into a hug.

Before Dean left Sam to sort things out with Gabriel and his husband, Sam wanted to know something. "Are you okay?" he asked ad Dean stayed silent.
He didn't know.


The drive to the Bradbury's was eons long. Dean was just happy to melt into Charlie's soft form and let her run her fingers through his hair.


Sam was left there with some sort of hole in his heart, Rob and Gabe not once leaving Sam alone for a second. He was brought upstairs, cleaned up and Gabriel tried to get Sam to talk, but it was pointless. Sam didn't want to talk, didn't know exactly what to say about everything because his gut was twisting and flipping and his heart was in a million pieces, the words his father spat at him imprinted in his brain.


Charlie welcomed Dean with a warm hug, almost squeezing the breath right out of his lungs. She made him sit down on the couch, forced him almost because Dean tried to protest against it. Charlie sat beside him, facing him and kept her gaze gentle. Dean seemed like he didn't want to talk about it, so Charlie wasn't really going to ask because she knew the stuff Dean went through.
Charlie was Dean's best friend, the one person he could truly trust with every single detail of his life and not be judged or scolded for it.
"I told my moms you and Sam might be staying here for a while... kinda explained the situation. Momma Lexa and Momma Clarke said it was okay. They'll help you guys through this. I promise. We all promise." Charlie whispered, running her fingers through Dean's hair and watching the tension in his body slowly disappear and his eyes fall shut.


Sam had packed his necessities once Dean had called his uncle to tell him he was coming back to get Sam. Gabriel and Rob both said goodbye with long hugs and gentle kisses to Sam's head before watching him climb into Dean's car and disappear around the corner. Gabriel felt a strong hand around his waist, pulling him in for a hug that had Gabriel in tears now.

Sam was silent the whole ride, staring out the window at the darkness that swallowed them and the moonlight that tried to chase them through the trees. A hand was outstretched just in case Sam needed to hold onto something.
He didn't.


Charlie's house had a nice, welcoming feeling to it, Sam immediately feeling safe the second he walked inside. The place was foreign to him, bright colours and a nice, cinnamon smell to the environment that seemed to calm his nerves. Dean's hand was resting on the small of Sam's back, thumb rubbing soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt.

Charlie showed Dean his room, then offered Sam if he wanted to sleep in his own room, but he refused, wanting to stay as close to Dean as he possibly could. The two boys ended up in just their briefs, legs tangled in the sheets and each other's, Sam just laying there with his head on Dean's chest and his eyes closed, listening to his heartbeat and focusing on his breaths and the way his fingers threaded through Sam's hair.

Then Sam remembered something.

Dean said he loved him.

Chapter Text

"He looks like Prince Charming, Kevin." a hushed voice murmured from under Dean's arm. "No, I'm not joking! I swear he's a prince. No one else has that good of a body. And his eyyyyeees..." Sam drawled, and Dean's eye cracked open when slim fingers ran across his bare chest. There was a soft whisper from the phone Dean presumed Sam was holding. "Oh my god, don't get me started." Dean pretended to be asleep when Sam shifted to him.

"I'll call you back."

One leg swung over Dean's hips and Sam was on top of him, letting his hands roam as he leant over to cup the growing scruff on Dean's face. There was a hot swipe of tongue and sting of teeth as Dean popped open to a face full of Sam nipping at his lips. "Morning, De." he muttered and Dean slid his hands up to cup his ass. Sam stopped his determined assault to look him in the eye.

"I know what I want for my birthday."
Dean raised an eyebrow and hummed. Slim quartzite fingers danced along Sam's waistband and Sam leaned in.
Dean snickered. "Gon' have to be more specific, baby boy." Sam's fingers trailed lower beneath the hem of his shorts and he grinned. "You know exactly what I mean."

Dean smiled wolfishly as he caught Sam's wrist and flipped them so the positions were switched. "You wanna blow the candles on the cake, and then I'll blow you? Or, do you mean you want to pop some confetti and then me to pop your cherry." Sam snickered below him. "Both sounds good."


Charlie's moms took instantly to Sam, fussing over him adorably ("Clarke! Don't braid his hair!" "Lexa, you don't own me!"), and Gabriel and Rob absolutely loved them.

Three days later, and Sam finally had a home.


School was going well, because word had finally gotten out and it spread like wildfire, the team captain and preacher's boy were dating/fucking/ living together, whatever, and whoever even dared think about messing with them would get their ass kicked. Not only by Dean, but by Michael and Lucifer as well, who seemed to be vigilant angels towards the boys. Michael had always had a decent friendship with Dean, but after finding out about Lucifer pissing them off, he told him off (in front of the whole school) and since then the pair had been enjoying scaring off some minor pain-in-the-asses, rebuilding a stronger friendship with "Smith & Wesson."

Dean didn't object the next day when he caught wind that Charlie's moms Clarke and Lexa had ran his dad out of town and were now his legal guardians. In fact, he was so excited he actually pinned Sam down against the lunch table and made out with him in front of the whole school.


The first month of the school year was officially over, and that meant on the morning of Saturday, November 1, Dean was rudely awoken by a knock at his door. "Fuck off, Char." he yelled and a bark of a laugh filtered through his door. "That how you treat your new family, kid?" Gabriel said and Dean rolled over as his door opened. "Why're you here?" Gabriel rolled his eye and subconsciously rubbed a fading hickey on his neck. "Considering it's my nephew's birthday-" Dean shot up and swore. "FUCK! I forgot, I gotta wrap his gift, I hav-" Gabriel laughed and sat down on his bed. "Easy, easy, kiddo. We're throwing a surprise party. And here's what we're gonna do..."


Sam whistled as he walked down the street of downtown Lawrence, walking into Sugar Wings without realizing it was dark. He fumbled for the light before it burst on and a group of people screamed "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" and Sam nearly screamed himself. All his friends and family were there, Uncle Gabe and Uncle Rob; Clarke, Lexa, and Charlie Bradbury; Michael, Lucifer, Kevin, and Jo from school, and then Dean.

He was sitting proudly at one of the tables in the bakery, sandy hair dusted with flour as he gestured to the cake, perfectly done (probably thanks to Gabe and Rob) with a smile that could make this world slow down. That was all that mattered, and as a smatter of hugs and kisses and wiping of his tears rained on him, Sam realized he finally had a family.


Things were drowsy up at Big River.

After a long and rather lavish party, Rob and Lexa had decided the boys should go up to the cabin for the weekend, so now Sam and Dean were nestled in front of the big fireplace on the couch-bed. Dean's arms held Sam into his side, skin on skin without shirts and Sam's arms felt so cold on the fuzzy warmth of Dean. It was pleasant, and indeed a Good Thing. Dean tucked this moment away with other Good Things.

He curved his hand around Sam's hips and massaged the soft skin, Sam humming in appreciation as he turned to mouth at Dean's neck, and both hands swallowed Sam's waist and hauled him on top of Dean. "You're an insufferable leech, you know that? I can only imagine what you're gonna be like when your older. Maybe an inch taller, but still markin' me up huh?" Sam offered a smug little grin and his legs squeezed Dean's waist. "I learned from the- uhhh, best..." Dean had gently rolled his hips up and Sam tilted his head back, shaking slightly as his slim fingers carded through Dean's hair. The team captain slowly moved his hands until he was palming softly at Sam, moaning quietly at the hot touch. They leaned into a kiss, and it got messier until Sam's lips were shiny and Dean was grinding hard on him.

"You ruined me." Sam gasped when Dean's hands slid under the hem of his pants and his smile was enough to send shivers down Sam's spine. His pathetically petulant look countered Sam's own fingers, pearling down Dean's bare chest as the two of them stared off.

"Gonna make me yours?"




Benny rolled his eyes as Dean yanked Sam down into his lap. "All I'm saying is, it's the last party of the season! Sammy should come- in both senses of the word- and you know Mikey and Luce will beat your ass if you try to be shady." Sam's arms curved around Dean's neck.

He had starting growing this last month, and was finally at shoulder height with Dean, attached at the hip. Things had been resolved with Benny after the entire football team intervened and things were back to normal.

"All 'm sayin' is, do you really want Sam in that environment? I mean, ya know tha' the guys get rowdy. And Sam, he uh, considering he's, damn..." Dean raised his eyebrows and smacked Sam's leg. "If you're trying to say 'virgin' you should know he isn't." Dean deadpanned. Benny's eyebrows shot up in surprise and Sam turned electric red in shame. "Dean!" he hissed and Benny snorted. "Looks like I owe ya fifty bucks, but that ain't the point... You know there's gon be drinks and drugs and tha works at the party." Dean looked to Sam. "I mean, it's your decision. I want you to do what you want, baby boy." Sam bit his lip.

Sam chewed up his bottom lip for several moments, eyes scanning the worried eyes that belonged to Benny, then the loving ones from Dean's.
"I mean, to be honest? I think I'll go," Sam finally replied, shifting on Dean's lap so he could press a chaste kiss to his lips. "wouldn't want to miss the last party of the season. If you see me trying to drink, take it from me." Sam warned, earning a hearty chuckle from his boyfriend.
"Whatever ya want, babe." Dean crooned, squeezing Sam's hip in reassurance.
Benny was pretty sure his eyes rolled out of his sockets.


Parties weren't exactly Sam's area, especially the ones that involved too much alcohol and sneaking in a blunt or two. He wanted at least one fun night before he died or something.
Benny wasn't joking about the alcohol and the drugs at all. The second Sam walked into the large house that belonged to spoiled boy Lafitte, with Dean's arm securely wrapped around his waist, the smell hit him, and it was not pleasant. Boys had girls in their laps and girls had girls in theirs. Dean was immediately offered a drink the second he walked in, which he kindly accepted, but Sam refused. If Dean was going to get drunk, Sam wanted to be his designated... person who walked him home. Sam was just reminded he couldn't drive.

Party had went on for hours so far, and Sam was quietly seated on one of the many couches, but in the quieter area of the house. It had gotten pretty rowdy, Dean was out of Sam's sight and he wasn't going to bother looking for him since he was probably having his own fun. Why in the world did Sam come here in the first place? He was full of curiosities. Wanted to try the alcohol, the cigarettes, the blunts and whatever the hell the other kids were doing. Well, nobody was there to stop him, right? Sam was hesitant as he walked back through the crowd, making his way to the crowded kitchen to get a can of beer, the lightest he could find, before cracking it open and taking a sip.
Disgustingly... satisfying.
His throat burned with a new sensation, his head begun to spin and his entire body tingled. He couldn't remember why he didn't want to drink in the first place, three beers in and he had to admit, it was pretty fun. He had girls with their hands all over him, carding through his hair and trying to steal a kiss. Then there was one guy, who seemed to get close enough to Sam to have tiny hands gripping him by his face and yanking him in for a sloppy, drunken kiss.

"The hell?" Benny mumbled when the sudden warmth suddenly left him, beer and honey lip balm leaving him in a state of shock. When he noticed who had kissed him, he saw Sam; cheeks flushed deep red, a huge smile on his face and a beer in his hand. Oh. My. God. "The hell!" Benny repeated, much louder, grabbing Sam's hand and yanking him away from the crowd. Sam stumbled after, stopping in his tracks but swaying in his spot as Benny stared him down.
"Kid, how many beers did you have?!" Benny asked, getting a firm grip on Sam's shoulders so he could look dead into those dazed eyes. Sam only let out a giggle in response, and Benny let out an exasperated groan. He had managed to stay sober just a little, so he could keep an eye on Sam for Dean. It didn't seem to work out too well, and now Dean was probably going to kill Benny for real now. He was more than surprised when Sam managed to get his strong build on the couch, long legs straddling his lap and their lips were smashed together. Sweet and gentle met rough and bitter, a foreign taste in Sam's mouth that was not Dean's at all. He thought it was, to be completely honest. Or maybe he was just so stupidly drunk, he would hop on the first dick he could get to.
"Sam, Sam!" Benny protested, managing to push him away to a safe distance, but their breaths still battled for some type of dominance.
"Oh, c'monnnnnn! You a wimp?" Sam suddenly mocked, grinning smugly when large fingers dug into his hips.
The kiss he got definitely answered his question.
Benny was harsh, all stone-cut edges that were too sober as he picked Sam up easily and carried him to his bedroom, and even woozy Sam recognized the second pair of hands that were sliding up his sides now.
Fuck. He was seeing double, Dean and Benny both smiling down at him in a way that had his pants way too confining. Dean wasn't fazed at all, just a light buzz at the edges of his vision but he was stripping down Sam, Benny was too, their hands rough and hot and it was too damn much. Dean and Benny leaned backwards against the bed to eye up Sam in nothing but his boxers, liquor laced blush blossoming on his pretty little bare chest. Dean pulled Sam close, grinding hard against him as Benny lifted a finger below his chin. "Kiss him." Dean growled to Sam, who was already in overdrive. "Wanna watch you kiss him while I'm grinding on you." he rasped and Sam gasped at Benny's sharp nip of teeth. Dean held his hips, and they broke apart so Sam could breathe and painfully whine at Dean. His eyes darkened and they kissed searingly hot.

That night was full of things that were better off unsaid. He woke up in Benny's bed, laying between both Benny and Dean and god, did his ass ever hurt. His head was pounding from his hangover and he was sticky all over.
Let's keep that night locked in the back of his head, shall we?




Finally, Sam graduated. It was a day that made his heart lift and tons of weight was let off of his shoulders. He was greeted by Dean at the end of the ceremony with a bouquet of roses, a warm hug, and a kiss pressed to his cheek.
"I'm so proud of you." Dean whispered, keeping his face pressed against Sam's cheek and an arm around his waist. When he finally pulled away, Dean waited a few moments as the rest of the family gave Sam their congratulations before clearing his throat, loud enough to get everyone to calm down. Dean could feel his heartbeat pick up a little, but he had to do this, it was now or never.

He remembers the first time he laid eyes on Sam, a perfect little church boy with nothing but innocence on his mind. The first time he laid his fingers on Sam, got a closer look, he just /knew/, that Sam was the one for him, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. There was something about falling in love with Sam, how easy it was and how painless it felt, how it made Dean feel like he was on cloud nine.
He loved Sam.
So now here he was, on one knee with a tiny velvet box holding a diamond ring.
"Sam Wesson, will you marry me?"

Nobody knew how he got that ring, nobody would ever want to know. All Dean could remember was red, the screams, the sickening sound of a knife being drove through something. It was all so satisfying to him, music to his ears.
Now that ring was on Sam's finger, and he had no clue what Dean had done to get it.
This was love.