Fic: SPN (Caleb+Dean): Seventeen | PG | 1750 words
Title: Seventeen
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Caleb+Dean (the rather one-sided, puppy love!version)
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Pre-series. Dean's 17 and crushing hard. John POV.
Summary: John swears to God that ever since they stopped over at Caleb’s for a little rest stop between hunts, Dean’s jeans have gotten tighter.
Word Count: 1750
A/N: Yes, the title is from Winger. Get it out of my head! Also. This fic now has a porny, time-skipped follow-up: Flesh for Your Romeo.
“So…” Dean says, leaning over against the Impala’s open hood just a little bit more in a move that pushes out his ass and John shakes his head, walking towards the back of the garage. He swears to God that ever since they stopped over at Caleb’s for a little rest stop between hunts, Dean’s jeans have gotten tighter. The kid's also taken to wearing smaller shirts and it would almost be funny if John wasn't aware of what it was all about.
It’s been two days now, though, and John can't exactly ignore it any more. He also knows that he's never going to call Dean on it because Dean would just deny it and John’s not that mean, anyway. Dean’s just working through a little bit of a crush and John’s willing to bet that Dean’s not even aware of half the signals he’s sending out-the boy’s always been rather single-minded in his pursuit of girls up until now. He’s probably just trying to ‘play it cool’ or whatever he wants to call it and doesn’t know what he’s doing. Or at least John hopes the kid doesn't know what he's doing.
It’s just a damn good thing that Dean’s trying to ‘play it cool’ with Caleb and not, say, any other guy on the damn street because Dean would more than likely be getting more than he thinks he’s asking for. Caleb, though-Caleb knows where that line is.
They’re staying for a few days at Caleb’s place because John doesn’t have any hunts currently lined up and they were in the general area. Besides, he knows it’s always good for the boys to have a little bit of stability and, well, John couldn’t take any more Dean’s not so subtle asking if they could go see Caleb. The boy was driving him up a damn wall.
Caleb’s playing with the socket wrench-he’s definitely not using it for anything, just twirling it absentmindedly-and grinning at Dean. The way his eyes are tracing up and down Dean’s body make John want to punch his face in but John just forces himself to suck it up. After all, Dean’s the one putting it on display and John knows damn well that Caleb’s not going to do anything. That doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t want to remind Caleb of the meaning of the word ‘jailbait.’
The song playing in the background is stupidly fitting and John’s reminded that Dean’s only seventeen-for a few more months, anyway. It makes John feel tired and bone-weary to know that his oldest is soon going to be old enough to vote. Not that he probably ever will-and that’s definitely something that John’s going to shove out of his head and not think about again.
Dean laughs, loud and clear and it echoes through Caleb’s oil stained garage. He reaches in and touches a part, looking over his shoulder at Caleb to make sure he’s got it right and John doesn’t miss the way that Caleb has to pry his eyes away from Dean’s ass first.
John knows that he’s being just a little bit ridiculous about all of this but he also figures that he’s entitled. He’s also wishing that Sammy was here because if there’s one thing that would make Dean stand up straight and stop flirting so obviously with Caleb, it’s his little brother. Kid might as well hang the moon for how Dean looks at him.
Sammy’s down at the local library, though, researching for a paper that he says is due on Monday and John grudgingly let him have the day-much to Dean’s delight, John’s sure. He’s checked and triple-checked and there’s nothing even vaguely supernatural in this town, so John knows that Sammy’s safe. Theoretically, he knows that Dean is, too.
Theoretically.
Dean’s apparently decided that he’s thirsty because he’s grabbed a Coke out of the garage’s little mini-fridge, having passed up the beer, though probably only because he knows that John’s here. John’s well aware that if he wasn’t standing in the same room, the little shit probably would have grabbed one instead of the soda. Knowing that John is watching, though, apparently doesn’t dissuade Dean from attempting to fellate the damn bottle.
John growls as he watches Dean wrap his too pretty to belong to a boy lips around the top of the bottle and suck. When he’s finished, he flicks his tongue out to catch any loose drops and John really can’t stay here any longer. John stomps into the house, heading towards where he’s got his latest research folders spread out and breathes a small prayer that Dean’s antics haven’t spread past Caleb yet. As far as John’s aware, Dean hasn’t shown any interest in other guys which is good.
It’s damn good.
John slams himself down in the living room’s lone recliner-a busted-in, ripped, blue contraption-and flips through the stacks of papers. He frowns at a few of them, pulling them out to see if the stories form a possible pattern as he grabs a marker to circle a few key words. He gets busy, searching for random clues and the next thing that John’s aware of besides the papers is Caleb sitting down on the couch to his left.
John glances up to see Caleb pulling a swig off of a beer and wiping at a grease spot on his forehead with a dirty rag. John quirks an eyebrow at him, wondering what exactly he’s doing in here instead of out in the garage pretending to show Dean how to maintain the Impala while really just ogling Dean’s still developing charms because Dean’s known how to take care of the Impala since he was twelve.
Like Caleb can read his mind, though, Caleb offers a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he murmurs and John rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. It’s okay for Caleb to just look-as long as that’s all he’s doing-and John’s not here to give Caleb the typical overprotective father routine. He thinks Caleb got that the first time he met John when John threaten to feed his balls to wild dogs if anything happened to the boys. ‘Course that had been on a hunt and so more referring to such things as the black dog sinking its teeth into the boys but John likes to think that Caleb’s smart enough to figure out that it’s got multiple applications.
“Where’s Dean?” John asks, staring down at the papers he’s now got labeled.
“Bathroom,” Caleb replies. He picks at the label of his beer, pulling at the corner. “He’s uh…” John can almost feel how Caleb’s brain is clicking away, trying to find something suitable to fill in the blank. “…precocious.”
John closes his eyes and brings one hand up to scrub at the headache he feels coming on. “That’s one word for it,” he says and Caleb gives a little laugh.
“He’ll get over it.”
Christ but John hopes so. He’s not sure he can take much more of this.
“It’s natural,” Caleb adds and John shoots him a dirty look. Caleb has the balls to look surprised even as he holds his hands up in self-defense. “What? It is. He’s got a bit of a crush, he’ll work through it.”
John sighs and opens another folder. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t spread,” he growls and he’s a little stunned when Caleb nods in agreement.
“Yeah.” Caleb smiles at John, possibly sympathizing though John’s not quite sure why-it’s not like he has a hormonal seventeen year old giving him grief. …Except that he kind of does. John amends his last statement because he imagines that as bad as it is having to watch his kid unconsciously beg for things he’s not ready to get, it’s almost got to be worse having to fend off said kid. He opens his mouth to say a few words as a peace-offering-not an apology by any means-but at least something to change the topic, but Caleb’s smiling towards the doorway. “Hey, Dean.”
John glances over at the door to see his kid leaning against the jamb like he’s James freaking Dean or something. Though he’s been messing around with the car, there’s not a mark on him, pristine and obviously freshly washed-it’d almost be kind of funny if it was somebody else’s kid. As it is, though, John’s got to clench his teeth to stop from snarling when Dean blushes slightly and shyly ducks his head. “So…” Dean says. “You, uh, ready to go?”
“Go?” John repeats and slants his eyes over to Caleb.
Caleb shrugs. “Dean’s kind of hungry so I thought maybe we’d go get something to eat?” Caleb’s got that small, apologetic smile again, but it’s different this time and John has to bite back a groan when he realizes why: It’s got a little something packed in it for Dean. John glances back over at Dean who’s alternating between shooting shy, hopeful smiles at Caleb and pleading frowns at John. “That’s if it’s…” Caleb continues, figuring out that maybe he skipped a step somewhere along the line, “okay with you?”
The headache that was threatening makes an appearance and John is so not ready for this shit. He forces himself to act natural, though, and rearranges a few folders even though they’ve already been sorted out. “Yeah, sure. I’m gonna get some work done and you boys have fun.”
Dean’s grinning like a loon and fairly fucking bouncing and John feels like a heel because he had been considering saying no just on principle. Caleb stands up and lightly clasps John’s shoulder and John knows he wasn’t entirely successful at hiding his instinctive reaction. He winces because it’s Caleb and he knows that Dean is perfectly safe around him. “Thanks, John,” Caleb says quietly, just for John and John gives him a small nod in reply. When Caleb talks again, it’s louder, pitched for Dean to hear as well. “So we’ll be back later.” John nods again and firmly smothers the little voice inside his head screaming for blood.
Caleb crosses to room to usher Dean out and John watches them go. Dean’s standing a little closer than usual, still wearing his too-tight jeans, and John sincerely hopes that Caleb’s right. Dean better get over this phase soon because John’s not sure his sanity is going to make it.
He bites down on the ridiculous urge to tell them to be home by nine.
END
Onto Flesh for Your Romeo.
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Caleb+Dean (the rather one-sided, puppy love!version)
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Pre-series. Dean's 17 and crushing hard. John POV.
Summary: John swears to God that ever since they stopped over at Caleb’s for a little rest stop between hunts, Dean’s jeans have gotten tighter.
Word Count: 1750
A/N: Yes, the title is from Winger. Get it out of my head! Also. This fic now has a porny, time-skipped follow-up: Flesh for Your Romeo.
“So…” Dean says, leaning over against the Impala’s open hood just a little bit more in a move that pushes out his ass and John shakes his head, walking towards the back of the garage. He swears to God that ever since they stopped over at Caleb’s for a little rest stop between hunts, Dean’s jeans have gotten tighter. The kid's also taken to wearing smaller shirts and it would almost be funny if John wasn't aware of what it was all about.
It’s been two days now, though, and John can't exactly ignore it any more. He also knows that he's never going to call Dean on it because Dean would just deny it and John’s not that mean, anyway. Dean’s just working through a little bit of a crush and John’s willing to bet that Dean’s not even aware of half the signals he’s sending out-the boy’s always been rather single-minded in his pursuit of girls up until now. He’s probably just trying to ‘play it cool’ or whatever he wants to call it and doesn’t know what he’s doing. Or at least John hopes the kid doesn't know what he's doing.
It’s just a damn good thing that Dean’s trying to ‘play it cool’ with Caleb and not, say, any other guy on the damn street because Dean would more than likely be getting more than he thinks he’s asking for. Caleb, though-Caleb knows where that line is.
They’re staying for a few days at Caleb’s place because John doesn’t have any hunts currently lined up and they were in the general area. Besides, he knows it’s always good for the boys to have a little bit of stability and, well, John couldn’t take any more Dean’s not so subtle asking if they could go see Caleb. The boy was driving him up a damn wall.
Caleb’s playing with the socket wrench-he’s definitely not using it for anything, just twirling it absentmindedly-and grinning at Dean. The way his eyes are tracing up and down Dean’s body make John want to punch his face in but John just forces himself to suck it up. After all, Dean’s the one putting it on display and John knows damn well that Caleb’s not going to do anything. That doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t want to remind Caleb of the meaning of the word ‘jailbait.’
The song playing in the background is stupidly fitting and John’s reminded that Dean’s only seventeen-for a few more months, anyway. It makes John feel tired and bone-weary to know that his oldest is soon going to be old enough to vote. Not that he probably ever will-and that’s definitely something that John’s going to shove out of his head and not think about again.
Dean laughs, loud and clear and it echoes through Caleb’s oil stained garage. He reaches in and touches a part, looking over his shoulder at Caleb to make sure he’s got it right and John doesn’t miss the way that Caleb has to pry his eyes away from Dean’s ass first.
John knows that he’s being just a little bit ridiculous about all of this but he also figures that he’s entitled. He’s also wishing that Sammy was here because if there’s one thing that would make Dean stand up straight and stop flirting so obviously with Caleb, it’s his little brother. Kid might as well hang the moon for how Dean looks at him.
Sammy’s down at the local library, though, researching for a paper that he says is due on Monday and John grudgingly let him have the day-much to Dean’s delight, John’s sure. He’s checked and triple-checked and there’s nothing even vaguely supernatural in this town, so John knows that Sammy’s safe. Theoretically, he knows that Dean is, too.
Theoretically.
Dean’s apparently decided that he’s thirsty because he’s grabbed a Coke out of the garage’s little mini-fridge, having passed up the beer, though probably only because he knows that John’s here. John’s well aware that if he wasn’t standing in the same room, the little shit probably would have grabbed one instead of the soda. Knowing that John is watching, though, apparently doesn’t dissuade Dean from attempting to fellate the damn bottle.
John growls as he watches Dean wrap his too pretty to belong to a boy lips around the top of the bottle and suck. When he’s finished, he flicks his tongue out to catch any loose drops and John really can’t stay here any longer. John stomps into the house, heading towards where he’s got his latest research folders spread out and breathes a small prayer that Dean’s antics haven’t spread past Caleb yet. As far as John’s aware, Dean hasn’t shown any interest in other guys which is good.
It’s damn good.
John slams himself down in the living room’s lone recliner-a busted-in, ripped, blue contraption-and flips through the stacks of papers. He frowns at a few of them, pulling them out to see if the stories form a possible pattern as he grabs a marker to circle a few key words. He gets busy, searching for random clues and the next thing that John’s aware of besides the papers is Caleb sitting down on the couch to his left.
John glances up to see Caleb pulling a swig off of a beer and wiping at a grease spot on his forehead with a dirty rag. John quirks an eyebrow at him, wondering what exactly he’s doing in here instead of out in the garage pretending to show Dean how to maintain the Impala while really just ogling Dean’s still developing charms because Dean’s known how to take care of the Impala since he was twelve.
Like Caleb can read his mind, though, Caleb offers a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he murmurs and John rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. It’s okay for Caleb to just look-as long as that’s all he’s doing-and John’s not here to give Caleb the typical overprotective father routine. He thinks Caleb got that the first time he met John when John threaten to feed his balls to wild dogs if anything happened to the boys. ‘Course that had been on a hunt and so more referring to such things as the black dog sinking its teeth into the boys but John likes to think that Caleb’s smart enough to figure out that it’s got multiple applications.
“Where’s Dean?” John asks, staring down at the papers he’s now got labeled.
“Bathroom,” Caleb replies. He picks at the label of his beer, pulling at the corner. “He’s uh…” John can almost feel how Caleb’s brain is clicking away, trying to find something suitable to fill in the blank. “…precocious.”
John closes his eyes and brings one hand up to scrub at the headache he feels coming on. “That’s one word for it,” he says and Caleb gives a little laugh.
“He’ll get over it.”
Christ but John hopes so. He’s not sure he can take much more of this.
“It’s natural,” Caleb adds and John shoots him a dirty look. Caleb has the balls to look surprised even as he holds his hands up in self-defense. “What? It is. He’s got a bit of a crush, he’ll work through it.”
John sighs and opens another folder. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t spread,” he growls and he’s a little stunned when Caleb nods in agreement.
“Yeah.” Caleb smiles at John, possibly sympathizing though John’s not quite sure why-it’s not like he has a hormonal seventeen year old giving him grief. …Except that he kind of does. John amends his last statement because he imagines that as bad as it is having to watch his kid unconsciously beg for things he’s not ready to get, it’s almost got to be worse having to fend off said kid. He opens his mouth to say a few words as a peace-offering-not an apology by any means-but at least something to change the topic, but Caleb’s smiling towards the doorway. “Hey, Dean.”
John glances over at the door to see his kid leaning against the jamb like he’s James freaking Dean or something. Though he’s been messing around with the car, there’s not a mark on him, pristine and obviously freshly washed-it’d almost be kind of funny if it was somebody else’s kid. As it is, though, John’s got to clench his teeth to stop from snarling when Dean blushes slightly and shyly ducks his head. “So…” Dean says. “You, uh, ready to go?”
“Go?” John repeats and slants his eyes over to Caleb.
Caleb shrugs. “Dean’s kind of hungry so I thought maybe we’d go get something to eat?” Caleb’s got that small, apologetic smile again, but it’s different this time and John has to bite back a groan when he realizes why: It’s got a little something packed in it for Dean. John glances back over at Dean who’s alternating between shooting shy, hopeful smiles at Caleb and pleading frowns at John. “That’s if it’s…” Caleb continues, figuring out that maybe he skipped a step somewhere along the line, “okay with you?”
The headache that was threatening makes an appearance and John is so not ready for this shit. He forces himself to act natural, though, and rearranges a few folders even though they’ve already been sorted out. “Yeah, sure. I’m gonna get some work done and you boys have fun.”
Dean’s grinning like a loon and fairly fucking bouncing and John feels like a heel because he had been considering saying no just on principle. Caleb stands up and lightly clasps John’s shoulder and John knows he wasn’t entirely successful at hiding his instinctive reaction. He winces because it’s Caleb and he knows that Dean is perfectly safe around him. “Thanks, John,” Caleb says quietly, just for John and John gives him a small nod in reply. When Caleb talks again, it’s louder, pitched for Dean to hear as well. “So we’ll be back later.” John nods again and firmly smothers the little voice inside his head screaming for blood.
Caleb crosses to room to usher Dean out and John watches them go. Dean’s standing a little closer than usual, still wearing his too-tight jeans, and John sincerely hopes that Caleb’s right. Dean better get over this phase soon because John’s not sure his sanity is going to make it.
He bites down on the ridiculous urge to tell them to be home by nine.
END
Onto Flesh for Your Romeo.