All We Were Meant To Be 4/?
Title: All We Were Meant To Be 4/?
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When Sam was fifteen Dean met a woman named Lisa and disappeared. Two years later, Sam was captured by a pack of werewolves and discovered his brother's fate. But Dean refused to return with him and after a passion filled reunion they went their separate ways. The evidence of what they'd done came in the form of their son Ben, but a jealous Lisa decides she wants the child for her own. (slight au of The Kids Are Alright)
Warning: mpreg and bottom!Sam
Disclaimer: Seen a brotherly kiss yet? No? Damn it, must not be mine then.
Author's Notes: A another massive thank you to my baby atsugari8. She helped me with this chapter too! Seriously, she rocks. What did I ever do without you, sweetheart?
Previous chapters: one, two, three
The Impala came to a purring halt in front of Bobby’s house and Dean slowly climbed out looking up at the familiar building. No one was inside, he could sense that from there and Dean barely resisted the urge to turn around and leave. He’d always found it hard to deny Sam what he wanted - even if it hadn’t seemed that way - and had to literally force himself to walk away from him twice so far. A nagging feeling in his gut told him that although he should be wary about this whole thing, he should see it through.
Dean found the spare key in it’s place still faithfully hidden beneath a fake panel at the left side of the door. Even after all these years Bobby hadn’t changed, and a warmth spread through the werewolf at that discovery. It almost made the place feel something like home.
Upon entering, Dean’s nose was immediately assaulted with at least seven layers of dust. He could also smell his family’s lingering scents, a small growl emitting from his throat at John’s. Dean had spent the years not only thinking of Sam, but of their father and he didn’t like the conclusions that his mind had come up with about the older man. It felt like a lifetime ago that he was always defending John’s actions, telling Sam what a great man he was and how he was like a superhero.
Dean didn’t see John as that anymore. In fact he went as far as blaming his father for a lot of the shit that him and Sam had been involved with over the years. Oh Dean was still grateful for some things, like John’s lessons on how to hunt. Even now Dean found that knowledge useful and he still loved the thrill of hunting itself. Not just human prey, either. On some level he also knew that John did his best. He was nowhere near father of the year, and his actions sometimes left Dean and Sam in the background but he never abandoned them completely and he did love them.
But none of that really seemed like enough anymore. Dean was better for Sam; he knew that and the sooner he could get his brother to feel like that too the better. Perhaps Sam would even let Dean turn him also, and then they could be together for even longer.
Werewolves were not immortal, but their lifespan was increased at least tenfold. While everyone they had previously cared about died around them, Dean and Sam would live on and it wouldn’t matter because they would have each other. That was all Dean really wanted.
He moved about the old house aimlessly, trailing his fingers over books and random surfaces. The place was filled with so many damn memories, and in his mind’s eye he could see Sam and himself running around when they were children in his attempt to distract his little brother while Bobby and John worked. For many years Sam had followed Dean around like a puppy, something like hero-worship in his eyes and Dean could not remember being more proud than during those times. He felt visible and important, even when John would leave them in motel rooms for days at a stretch.
As long as Dean was the world to Sam, he was satisfied. He would keep his brother close to him, especially after the Shtriga incident, and everything would be okay.
But then Dean had fallen under Lisa’s intoxicating spell, and his Sammy-revolving world had been torn from him. His desire to protect Sam from himself and the life he was now a part of was what drove him to leave, but having Sam at his mercy once his pack had captured him had stirred something in Dean that he thought was long dead.
Lust, yes. But also love.
After their encounter, even though Dean had let Sam go he’d never been too far away. He kept an eye on his brother as much as he could, but Lisa had started to become jealous and angry when he’d be gone for too long at a time. She demanded his attention, taking Dean to her bedchambers and showing him just how much she wanted him. But Dean never felt the urge to make Lisa his mate, no matter how frequently she hinted at it. He simply allowed her to distract his mind and body from the one he really wanted. The one he craved.
Moving further through the house, Dean’s green eyes had just focused confusedly on a haphazard pile of crayons and toys scattered by the old fireplace when the low rumble of a truck caught his attention. He turned towards the door as John slammed his way inside, and as the two men stared at each other the air between them practically crackled with animosity.
“What the hell are you doing here?” John demanded, fist clenched around his keys and hostility pouring off him in waves.
“Hi, dad. Nice to see you,” Dean replied sarcastically. “Still have all your limbs I see. Heart still beating. Hunting must still be going good for you then.”
“Mutilating people must be going good for you,” John shot back. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, boy!”
Dean cocked his head slightly to the side, raising an eyebrow. “You give me such little credit. Then again you always did play that game, didn’t you. Sammy and I were never good enough.”
“Don’t you mention his name!” John took a single step forward, and Dean straightened in response. Eager for a fight. “I know all about what you did to him!”
“It’s your damn fault! You were always shoving us together, dad! Watch out for Sammy, Dean. Keep an eye on Sammy, Dean. He’s your responsibility, Dean! I saved him from my pack. I kept an eye on him. I protected him. Just like you told me to.”
In one swift movement John shot forward and grabbed Dean’s jacket so tightly that his knuckles were white. His keys hit the floor between them with a metallic thud. “I never told you to rape him!”
Dean bared his teeth in a feral snarl. It would be easy for him to break free of John’s hold, the wolf inside of him urging him to kill the man who was threatening him. But Dean resisted. John was a lot of fucked up things, but he was still Dean’s father. Plus Sam would never forgive him. Never come near him if Dean killed John and losing Sam completely was the last thing he wanted.
However that didn’t stop Dean from pushing John further, interested to see just how pissed off he could make the older man. He smirked smugly. “It’s not rape if we both wanted it, John. And I assure you, we wanted. Sam loves it when I fuck him.”
John’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he released Dean a second before his fist slammed into his eldest son’s face. Dean stumbled back a step, sneering as blood slid down his chin from his split lip. He knew the blow had been coming, and had purposely allowed it to happen.
“Is that all you’ve got, old man?” he taunted. “C’mon. Give me reason to tear you apart.”
John shifted his body a little, preparing for another punch and that was all the opening Dean needed. He lunged forward, and the two men slammed into a table sending textbooks and papers crashing to the floor. Dean still had no intention of killing his father but that didn’t mean he couldn’t satisfy some of the bloodlust racing through him.
“Stop it!”
Both men stopped short at the command and turned towards the doorway. The look on Sam’s face was a mixture of fury and disbelief, his teeth clenched so hard that the muscle ticked at his jaw.
“This is not why I asked you to come, Dean!”
Dean barely noticed when John reluctantly backed off, surprised that Sam had instigated his eldest son’s visit. Dean’s attention was instead on the small boy that was clinging to Sam’s jean clad leg and staring at them with wide, brown eyes. Realizing that the fight was over, he brightened and let go of Sam to run towards John.
“Grandpa, Grandpa! You’re back!”
John scooped him up and hugged him, glaring at Dean as the child clung happily to his neck.
Even without John being referred to in such a way, Dean could tell that the child was related to him. People all had difference scents of course, but there was always a lingering similarity among members of the same family. Plus the fact that the kid was almost a mirror image of himself that young. Dean dragged his eyes to his brother.
Sam tilted his head, indicating that hallway that led to the bedrooms. “We need to talk.”
Once they were in Sam’s room, the door closed firmly behind them, Dean whirled on him so fast that his boots squeaked against the hardwood floor. “What’s his name?”
“Ben,” Sam replied, playing with the hem of his shirt. Despite the fact he wore an apron at work, he still managed to get a grease stain on the damn thing. “He just turned five.”
“He’s mine.”
It wasn’t a question, but Sam nodded anyway. “Yeah, Dean. He’s yours and mine. I don’t know how it happened, so don’t even ask. All I know is we had sex, I got pregnant. End of story.”
“End of story? Damn it, Sam!” Dean snatched a plastic dinosaur off the desk and hurtled it furiously across the room. The thing released a high pitched squeak as it smacked the opposite wall and left a small indentation in the wood. “You had no fucking right to hide him from me!”
“I didn’t hide him from you! I didn’t know where the hell you were for the last five years, Dean! You have no cell phone and you never even bothered to show up again until this morning!”
“That’s not true, Sam! I came to see you here that night five years ago and you didn’t say one damn thing to me!”
“Because you would have stayed!”
Dean stared at him in disbelief, the same look he always gave his brother when he thought Sam said something he deemed incredibly stupid. “Isn’t that what you would have wanted?”
“No!” Sam sat down heavily on the side of the bed, resting his face in his hands for a second as he tried to calm down. When he straightened again, his shoulders were slumped in defeat. “Dean, I want you to stay because you want to. Not because you feel like you have to. I asked you, remember? You said that you couldn’t. If I had told you about the pregnancy, you would have stuck around but you’d have been miserable. You would have started to hate me or Ben and I couldn’t take that. So I let you walk away. It was selfish of me and I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry but I can’t take it back no matter how much I might want to.”
Dean turned his head a little, keeping an eye on his brother. He could easily hear Ben’s laughter echoing from the kitchen. “So then why bother telling me now?”
Sam smiled sadly. “Because Ben is old enough that he should meet you. Like it or not you’re a part of him, Dean. He’s a part of you. Even if you walk away, he’ll always be in the back of your mind and you’ll always be in the back of his. I can continue to do this without you if I have to. I have dad and Bobby and Jess, but I’m hoping that you’ll at least consider visiting now and then. You know, see how he’s doing.”
“Jess is the blonde one at the diner.” At Sam’s surprised look, Dean’s expression turned defensive. “I saw you kiss her through the windows.”
Sam released a small bark of laughter, looking down at the floor. He should have known Dean would stake out the place before coming inside. As the mattress dipped beside him he turned his head to look at his brother, hazel eyes locking on Dean’s determined green gaze.
“I’m staying, Sam. I want to be Ben’s father, not someone who just stops by now and again. I can protect you both.”
Hope blossomed in Sam‘s chest. “What about the pack?”
“Fuck the pack. You’ve done this without me for too damn long.”
“You and dad won’t kill each other?”
“I’m not promising anything.”
Sam snorted bemusedly, rubbing a hand over his face. He could not help but wish that he knew if this was going to blow up in all their faces. Still, he was extremely grateful that his brother was willing to be a permanent in their son’s life. “No killing,” he said firmly.
“Sam--”
“I mean it, Dean. You’re a werewolf, I get that. But if you want to be around Ben you can’t kill people.”
“Alright, alright. For fuck’s sake,” Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re no damn fun anymore, Sammy.”
“Welcome to parenthood, Dean.”
<>***<>***<>***<>
Ben was showing John the picture he’d drawn in school of a dog when Sam and Dean walked into the kitchen. The child had been obsessed with them since his nightmare. Dean had already wiped the blood from John’s punch from his chin, although some red still stained his bottom lip. Ben slid off his chair but stayed near John, eyes moving back and forth between Sam and Dean like he was at a tennis match.
“Ben,” Sam walked over and knelt down in front of him, “this is Dean. He’s going to be staying with us from now on.” In his peripheral vision, Sam could see John stiffen but ignored him for the moment. “I want you to be a good boy for him, okay? He’s going to help take care of you just like Grandpa and Uncle Bobby do.”
Ben looked away from Sam to once more focus on Dean as the older man walked over, crouching down beside his brother. He smiled at the child, holding his hand out.
“Nice to meet you, dude.”
A large smile broke out over the boy’s face and he grasped Dean’s hand; Sam released the breath he’d been holding as soon as Dean situated himself at his side. Ben had never had a problem meeting new people, but this was no ordinary introduction. Both Sam and Dean had decided not to tell Ben that Dean was his father just yet, wanting the child to get used to Dean on his own terms before going into a full explanation. Well, as much of an explanation that a five year old could easily understand, anyway.
“Why don’t you show Dean what you drew, while Grandpa and I have a short talk?” Sam suggested.
“Okay, daddy.” Ben tugged on Dean’s hand, leading him over to the table as John practically dragged Sam from the room by the collar of his shirt. “Look!” he said proudly, releasing Dean’s fingers to point at the picture. “I did it all by myself.”
The most prominent part of the black dog’s face that stared up at him from the paper were it’s piercing blue eyes. Ben must have used the brightest blue crayon he could find. That wasn’t what caught Dean’s attention though. The dog had a name scribbled below it, the letters messy but clear like Ben had indeed wrote it but with some help. It was that name that sent Dean’s thoughts racing.
Lisa.
“Did you come up with that yourself?” he asked warily.
“No,” Ben replied, “that’s what she said her name was.”
<>***<>***<>***<>
Dean tossed and turned irritably on the lumpy sofa, his mind and instincts pulling him in two different directions. The wolf inside him was just as confused as his human conscious, both wanting to return to his pack and at the same time to stay for his son. Dean felt extremely protective over Ben, just like he did over Sam. Now Sam wasn’t just his brother, but the “mother” of his child and so he had the even more intense urge to officially make Sam his mate.
At the same time, Dean could feel Lisa calling for him to return to her. He growled to himself and ignored her as best he could. In time, her calls would have less and less control over him until he could break away completely. But for now he felt like a junky who was trying to ignore the craving for another fix.
To distract himself, Dean closed his eyes and focused on the scents and sounds of the house around him. He knew where every member of the household was, and he could hear the soft sounds of their even breathing. In and out. In and out.
Bobby had come home not long after John and Sam stopped arguing over Dean’s presence, and although he had been less than thrilled to see Dean too he was smart enough not to question Sam over it. The younger Winchester brother was already physically and mentally exhausted from two shouting matches and if he’d had to go through one more he would have cracked.
Ben was still a little hesitant around Dean at times, but he was obviously intrigued by him. More than once during a tense dinner Dean had caught the brown eyes looking at him with a curiosity that seemed so much more advanced than a child should have. After dinner was over, he had disappeared from the table only to come back to Dean with a storybook and a hopeful look on his face.
Dean had been instantly reminded of Sam doing the same thing when he was a kid, and as the memory faded he realized that the book was in his hands and that Ben was in the process of climbing onto his lap.
Dean opened his eyes, staring up through the darkness at the ceiling above. He could still make out the faint markings of a Devil’s Trap, carefully carved into the old wood and he snorted out a laugh.
Good thing he wasn’t a demon.
Unable to lay there any longer, Dean kicked the blanket aside and climbed off the sofa. His bare feet were silent on the floorboards as he made his way towards the bedrooms, and he stopped for a moment at Ben’s room. The door was open a little, allowing a sliver of the glow from a nightlight to pierce the darkness of the hallway. Inside, Ben was sleeping soundlessly on his side facing the doorway. The stuffed bear clutched tightly in his arms was missing the left ear and one of the button eyes was only barely hanging on by a loose thread. Ben’s picture still bothered Dean, but he refrained from telling Sam about it. There were no such thing as coincidences, but Dean didn’t want to worry his brother just yet.
Dean smiled a little as his son mumbled something about the emerald city and flying monkeys and turned away, slipping into the bedroom across the hall and closing the door behind him.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was thick with sleep, and he rolled over to face him as Dean climbed onto the mattress and buried himself under the covers. “What’s the matter?”
“That damn sofa is too fucking lumpy.”
There was a moment of silence, then Sam softly laughed. “Your excuses suck. We’ve slept on crappier cushions than that.”
“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean slid his arm around Sam’s middle, burying his hand underneath his brother’s t-shirt to rest against the warm skin of his back.
The two settled like that, heads resting close on the single pillow and sharing the same air. They’d done it so many times before, although without the underlining intimacy that existed now, that Sam didn’t even give it a second thought. He and Dean grew up sleeping on the same bed more often than not, their father snoring away on the other a few inches away.
This time it was just them, and their feelings had morphed from simply platonic. But it wasn’t sex Dean was after, at least at that particular moment. Sam closed his eyes and curled his fingers loosely in Dean’s shirt, letting his brother’s soft, even breathing lure him back to sleep.
Sam awoke some hours later to lips brushing against his own. The sun was barely peeking in the window, casting a soft orange glow into the room. The lips came again, more firmly this time and Sam pressed forward to return the kiss. Dean’s hand slid down to his ass, fingers just breaching between his cheeks as lips parted and their tongues slid wetly together.
Sam allowed himself to be rolled onto his back, his fingers carding through Dean’s hair as his brother’s mouth moved from his own to trace a path down his throat. Sam’s shirt was pushed up to bunch at his armpits, the blanket around his and Dean’s hips as Dean pressed kisses and breathed warm air over Sam’s bared chest and stomach. He licked at his brother’s bellybutton, earning a gasp before moving on and easing Sam’s boxers down slim hips and thighs.
Shivering a little while his cock hardened against his stomach, Sam lifted his hips to help then spread his legs so that Dean could settle on his front between them. He moaned as a hot tongue traced the length of his erection, a sucking kiss pressed to the bulbous head before it was taken into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth.
Desperate to keep quiet and not wake Ben just across the hall, Sam bit on the knuckle of one hand’s forefinger hard enough to sting while his other hand carded through Dean’s short hair.
Dean moved slow, taking Sam in as far as he could without gagging before dragging his mouth up and down. He sucked as he pulled Sam in, then curled his tongue around him as he withdrew. He moved his mouth away with a wet pop, pushing Sam’s legs apart further to lick at his inner thighs and balls.
Sam’s fingers caressed the back of Dean’s head, muffled whimpers of desire and desperation escaping his lips as his thumb traced the skin behind Dean’s ear. His thighs trembled a little as Dean pressed a spit-slick finger slowly inside of his body, feeling every inch of the digit as it slid into him.
Dean took Sam in his mouth again as he thrust his finger back and forth a few times before adding a second. He curled them at his second knuckles, pushing deep and as soon as he found the walnut sized muscle inside of Sam’s body he immediately pressed and rubbed against it.
Sam’s hips jerked, white hot pleasure shooting through his body as Dean played with his prostate. His dick hardened even further, leaking precome steadily onto Dean’s tongue. He wanted to beg his brother to fuck him, take him so damn deeply that he’d walk funny for two days but Sam couldn’t risk taking his finger from his mouth. If he did, he’d wake the whole damn house and that wasn’t exactly an option.
At that moment Dean sucked hard and Sam finally had to remove his finger only to stuff a corner of the pillow passed his lips instead. His back bowed as he muffled his cry into the white fabric, his dick splurting rope after rope of thick semen into his brother’s waiting mouth.
Dean backed off a little so that the white cream splashed onto his tongue, softly suckling Sam until he was finished. When it ended he took both his mouth and fingers away and slid up his brother’s body, pulling the moist pillow away and pressing his tongue against Sam’s mouth.
Sam eagerly parted his lips, taking Dean’s tongue inside and tasting himself. They passed his semen between their mouths until it was gone completely, Dean rocking his fabric-clad erection against Sam’s flaccid cock.
Sam had just started to move his hands to the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs when a cry broke through their soft panting.
“Daddy!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean groaned in frustration as Sam pushed him away and got off the bed. He flopped down onto his stomach, barely resisting the urge to thrust his aching hardness against the mattress beneath him.
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Sam laughed as he pulled his boxers back on, then a pair of jeans. He rinsed his mouth with the glass of water that was on the nightstand. “Welcome to parenthood, Dean.”
Dean grumbled something unintelligible as Sam disappeared from the room.
TBC
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When Sam was fifteen Dean met a woman named Lisa and disappeared. Two years later, Sam was captured by a pack of werewolves and discovered his brother's fate. But Dean refused to return with him and after a passion filled reunion they went their separate ways. The evidence of what they'd done came in the form of their son Ben, but a jealous Lisa decides she wants the child for her own. (slight au of The Kids Are Alright)
Warning: mpreg and bottom!Sam
Disclaimer: Seen a brotherly kiss yet? No? Damn it, must not be mine then.
Author's Notes: A another massive thank you to my baby atsugari8. She helped me with this chapter too! Seriously, she rocks. What did I ever do without you, sweetheart?
Previous chapters: one, two, three
The Impala came to a purring halt in front of Bobby’s house and Dean slowly climbed out looking up at the familiar building. No one was inside, he could sense that from there and Dean barely resisted the urge to turn around and leave. He’d always found it hard to deny Sam what he wanted - even if it hadn’t seemed that way - and had to literally force himself to walk away from him twice so far. A nagging feeling in his gut told him that although he should be wary about this whole thing, he should see it through.
Dean found the spare key in it’s place still faithfully hidden beneath a fake panel at the left side of the door. Even after all these years Bobby hadn’t changed, and a warmth spread through the werewolf at that discovery. It almost made the place feel something like home.
Upon entering, Dean’s nose was immediately assaulted with at least seven layers of dust. He could also smell his family’s lingering scents, a small growl emitting from his throat at John’s. Dean had spent the years not only thinking of Sam, but of their father and he didn’t like the conclusions that his mind had come up with about the older man. It felt like a lifetime ago that he was always defending John’s actions, telling Sam what a great man he was and how he was like a superhero.
Dean didn’t see John as that anymore. In fact he went as far as blaming his father for a lot of the shit that him and Sam had been involved with over the years. Oh Dean was still grateful for some things, like John’s lessons on how to hunt. Even now Dean found that knowledge useful and he still loved the thrill of hunting itself. Not just human prey, either. On some level he also knew that John did his best. He was nowhere near father of the year, and his actions sometimes left Dean and Sam in the background but he never abandoned them completely and he did love them.
But none of that really seemed like enough anymore. Dean was better for Sam; he knew that and the sooner he could get his brother to feel like that too the better. Perhaps Sam would even let Dean turn him also, and then they could be together for even longer.
Werewolves were not immortal, but their lifespan was increased at least tenfold. While everyone they had previously cared about died around them, Dean and Sam would live on and it wouldn’t matter because they would have each other. That was all Dean really wanted.
He moved about the old house aimlessly, trailing his fingers over books and random surfaces. The place was filled with so many damn memories, and in his mind’s eye he could see Sam and himself running around when they were children in his attempt to distract his little brother while Bobby and John worked. For many years Sam had followed Dean around like a puppy, something like hero-worship in his eyes and Dean could not remember being more proud than during those times. He felt visible and important, even when John would leave them in motel rooms for days at a stretch.
As long as Dean was the world to Sam, he was satisfied. He would keep his brother close to him, especially after the Shtriga incident, and everything would be okay.
But then Dean had fallen under Lisa’s intoxicating spell, and his Sammy-revolving world had been torn from him. His desire to protect Sam from himself and the life he was now a part of was what drove him to leave, but having Sam at his mercy once his pack had captured him had stirred something in Dean that he thought was long dead.
Lust, yes. But also love.
After their encounter, even though Dean had let Sam go he’d never been too far away. He kept an eye on his brother as much as he could, but Lisa had started to become jealous and angry when he’d be gone for too long at a time. She demanded his attention, taking Dean to her bedchambers and showing him just how much she wanted him. But Dean never felt the urge to make Lisa his mate, no matter how frequently she hinted at it. He simply allowed her to distract his mind and body from the one he really wanted. The one he craved.
Moving further through the house, Dean’s green eyes had just focused confusedly on a haphazard pile of crayons and toys scattered by the old fireplace when the low rumble of a truck caught his attention. He turned towards the door as John slammed his way inside, and as the two men stared at each other the air between them practically crackled with animosity.
“What the hell are you doing here?” John demanded, fist clenched around his keys and hostility pouring off him in waves.
“Hi, dad. Nice to see you,” Dean replied sarcastically. “Still have all your limbs I see. Heart still beating. Hunting must still be going good for you then.”
“Mutilating people must be going good for you,” John shot back. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, boy!”
Dean cocked his head slightly to the side, raising an eyebrow. “You give me such little credit. Then again you always did play that game, didn’t you. Sammy and I were never good enough.”
“Don’t you mention his name!” John took a single step forward, and Dean straightened in response. Eager for a fight. “I know all about what you did to him!”
“It’s your damn fault! You were always shoving us together, dad! Watch out for Sammy, Dean. Keep an eye on Sammy, Dean. He’s your responsibility, Dean! I saved him from my pack. I kept an eye on him. I protected him. Just like you told me to.”
In one swift movement John shot forward and grabbed Dean’s jacket so tightly that his knuckles were white. His keys hit the floor between them with a metallic thud. “I never told you to rape him!”
Dean bared his teeth in a feral snarl. It would be easy for him to break free of John’s hold, the wolf inside of him urging him to kill the man who was threatening him. But Dean resisted. John was a lot of fucked up things, but he was still Dean’s father. Plus Sam would never forgive him. Never come near him if Dean killed John and losing Sam completely was the last thing he wanted.
However that didn’t stop Dean from pushing John further, interested to see just how pissed off he could make the older man. He smirked smugly. “It’s not rape if we both wanted it, John. And I assure you, we wanted. Sam loves it when I fuck him.”
John’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he released Dean a second before his fist slammed into his eldest son’s face. Dean stumbled back a step, sneering as blood slid down his chin from his split lip. He knew the blow had been coming, and had purposely allowed it to happen.
“Is that all you’ve got, old man?” he taunted. “C’mon. Give me reason to tear you apart.”
John shifted his body a little, preparing for another punch and that was all the opening Dean needed. He lunged forward, and the two men slammed into a table sending textbooks and papers crashing to the floor. Dean still had no intention of killing his father but that didn’t mean he couldn’t satisfy some of the bloodlust racing through him.
“Stop it!”
Both men stopped short at the command and turned towards the doorway. The look on Sam’s face was a mixture of fury and disbelief, his teeth clenched so hard that the muscle ticked at his jaw.
“This is not why I asked you to come, Dean!”
Dean barely noticed when John reluctantly backed off, surprised that Sam had instigated his eldest son’s visit. Dean’s attention was instead on the small boy that was clinging to Sam’s jean clad leg and staring at them with wide, brown eyes. Realizing that the fight was over, he brightened and let go of Sam to run towards John.
“Grandpa, Grandpa! You’re back!”
John scooped him up and hugged him, glaring at Dean as the child clung happily to his neck.
Even without John being referred to in such a way, Dean could tell that the child was related to him. People all had difference scents of course, but there was always a lingering similarity among members of the same family. Plus the fact that the kid was almost a mirror image of himself that young. Dean dragged his eyes to his brother.
Sam tilted his head, indicating that hallway that led to the bedrooms. “We need to talk.”
Once they were in Sam’s room, the door closed firmly behind them, Dean whirled on him so fast that his boots squeaked against the hardwood floor. “What’s his name?”
“Ben,” Sam replied, playing with the hem of his shirt. Despite the fact he wore an apron at work, he still managed to get a grease stain on the damn thing. “He just turned five.”
“He’s mine.”
It wasn’t a question, but Sam nodded anyway. “Yeah, Dean. He’s yours and mine. I don’t know how it happened, so don’t even ask. All I know is we had sex, I got pregnant. End of story.”
“End of story? Damn it, Sam!” Dean snatched a plastic dinosaur off the desk and hurtled it furiously across the room. The thing released a high pitched squeak as it smacked the opposite wall and left a small indentation in the wood. “You had no fucking right to hide him from me!”
“I didn’t hide him from you! I didn’t know where the hell you were for the last five years, Dean! You have no cell phone and you never even bothered to show up again until this morning!”
“That’s not true, Sam! I came to see you here that night five years ago and you didn’t say one damn thing to me!”
“Because you would have stayed!”
Dean stared at him in disbelief, the same look he always gave his brother when he thought Sam said something he deemed incredibly stupid. “Isn’t that what you would have wanted?”
“No!” Sam sat down heavily on the side of the bed, resting his face in his hands for a second as he tried to calm down. When he straightened again, his shoulders were slumped in defeat. “Dean, I want you to stay because you want to. Not because you feel like you have to. I asked you, remember? You said that you couldn’t. If I had told you about the pregnancy, you would have stuck around but you’d have been miserable. You would have started to hate me or Ben and I couldn’t take that. So I let you walk away. It was selfish of me and I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry but I can’t take it back no matter how much I might want to.”
Dean turned his head a little, keeping an eye on his brother. He could easily hear Ben’s laughter echoing from the kitchen. “So then why bother telling me now?”
Sam smiled sadly. “Because Ben is old enough that he should meet you. Like it or not you’re a part of him, Dean. He’s a part of you. Even if you walk away, he’ll always be in the back of your mind and you’ll always be in the back of his. I can continue to do this without you if I have to. I have dad and Bobby and Jess, but I’m hoping that you’ll at least consider visiting now and then. You know, see how he’s doing.”
“Jess is the blonde one at the diner.” At Sam’s surprised look, Dean’s expression turned defensive. “I saw you kiss her through the windows.”
Sam released a small bark of laughter, looking down at the floor. He should have known Dean would stake out the place before coming inside. As the mattress dipped beside him he turned his head to look at his brother, hazel eyes locking on Dean’s determined green gaze.
“I’m staying, Sam. I want to be Ben’s father, not someone who just stops by now and again. I can protect you both.”
Hope blossomed in Sam‘s chest. “What about the pack?”
“Fuck the pack. You’ve done this without me for too damn long.”
“You and dad won’t kill each other?”
“I’m not promising anything.”
Sam snorted bemusedly, rubbing a hand over his face. He could not help but wish that he knew if this was going to blow up in all their faces. Still, he was extremely grateful that his brother was willing to be a permanent in their son’s life. “No killing,” he said firmly.
“Sam--”
“I mean it, Dean. You’re a werewolf, I get that. But if you want to be around Ben you can’t kill people.”
“Alright, alright. For fuck’s sake,” Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re no damn fun anymore, Sammy.”
“Welcome to parenthood, Dean.”
<>***<>***<>***<>
Ben was showing John the picture he’d drawn in school of a dog when Sam and Dean walked into the kitchen. The child had been obsessed with them since his nightmare. Dean had already wiped the blood from John’s punch from his chin, although some red still stained his bottom lip. Ben slid off his chair but stayed near John, eyes moving back and forth between Sam and Dean like he was at a tennis match.
“Ben,” Sam walked over and knelt down in front of him, “this is Dean. He’s going to be staying with us from now on.” In his peripheral vision, Sam could see John stiffen but ignored him for the moment. “I want you to be a good boy for him, okay? He’s going to help take care of you just like Grandpa and Uncle Bobby do.”
Ben looked away from Sam to once more focus on Dean as the older man walked over, crouching down beside his brother. He smiled at the child, holding his hand out.
“Nice to meet you, dude.”
A large smile broke out over the boy’s face and he grasped Dean’s hand; Sam released the breath he’d been holding as soon as Dean situated himself at his side. Ben had never had a problem meeting new people, but this was no ordinary introduction. Both Sam and Dean had decided not to tell Ben that Dean was his father just yet, wanting the child to get used to Dean on his own terms before going into a full explanation. Well, as much of an explanation that a five year old could easily understand, anyway.
“Why don’t you show Dean what you drew, while Grandpa and I have a short talk?” Sam suggested.
“Okay, daddy.” Ben tugged on Dean’s hand, leading him over to the table as John practically dragged Sam from the room by the collar of his shirt. “Look!” he said proudly, releasing Dean’s fingers to point at the picture. “I did it all by myself.”
The most prominent part of the black dog’s face that stared up at him from the paper were it’s piercing blue eyes. Ben must have used the brightest blue crayon he could find. That wasn’t what caught Dean’s attention though. The dog had a name scribbled below it, the letters messy but clear like Ben had indeed wrote it but with some help. It was that name that sent Dean’s thoughts racing.
Lisa.
“Did you come up with that yourself?” he asked warily.
“No,” Ben replied, “that’s what she said her name was.”
<>***<>***<>***<>
Dean tossed and turned irritably on the lumpy sofa, his mind and instincts pulling him in two different directions. The wolf inside him was just as confused as his human conscious, both wanting to return to his pack and at the same time to stay for his son. Dean felt extremely protective over Ben, just like he did over Sam. Now Sam wasn’t just his brother, but the “mother” of his child and so he had the even more intense urge to officially make Sam his mate.
At the same time, Dean could feel Lisa calling for him to return to her. He growled to himself and ignored her as best he could. In time, her calls would have less and less control over him until he could break away completely. But for now he felt like a junky who was trying to ignore the craving for another fix.
To distract himself, Dean closed his eyes and focused on the scents and sounds of the house around him. He knew where every member of the household was, and he could hear the soft sounds of their even breathing. In and out. In and out.
Bobby had come home not long after John and Sam stopped arguing over Dean’s presence, and although he had been less than thrilled to see Dean too he was smart enough not to question Sam over it. The younger Winchester brother was already physically and mentally exhausted from two shouting matches and if he’d had to go through one more he would have cracked.
Ben was still a little hesitant around Dean at times, but he was obviously intrigued by him. More than once during a tense dinner Dean had caught the brown eyes looking at him with a curiosity that seemed so much more advanced than a child should have. After dinner was over, he had disappeared from the table only to come back to Dean with a storybook and a hopeful look on his face.
Dean had been instantly reminded of Sam doing the same thing when he was a kid, and as the memory faded he realized that the book was in his hands and that Ben was in the process of climbing onto his lap.
Dean opened his eyes, staring up through the darkness at the ceiling above. He could still make out the faint markings of a Devil’s Trap, carefully carved into the old wood and he snorted out a laugh.
Good thing he wasn’t a demon.
Unable to lay there any longer, Dean kicked the blanket aside and climbed off the sofa. His bare feet were silent on the floorboards as he made his way towards the bedrooms, and he stopped for a moment at Ben’s room. The door was open a little, allowing a sliver of the glow from a nightlight to pierce the darkness of the hallway. Inside, Ben was sleeping soundlessly on his side facing the doorway. The stuffed bear clutched tightly in his arms was missing the left ear and one of the button eyes was only barely hanging on by a loose thread. Ben’s picture still bothered Dean, but he refrained from telling Sam about it. There were no such thing as coincidences, but Dean didn’t want to worry his brother just yet.
Dean smiled a little as his son mumbled something about the emerald city and flying monkeys and turned away, slipping into the bedroom across the hall and closing the door behind him.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was thick with sleep, and he rolled over to face him as Dean climbed onto the mattress and buried himself under the covers. “What’s the matter?”
“That damn sofa is too fucking lumpy.”
There was a moment of silence, then Sam softly laughed. “Your excuses suck. We’ve slept on crappier cushions than that.”
“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean slid his arm around Sam’s middle, burying his hand underneath his brother’s t-shirt to rest against the warm skin of his back.
The two settled like that, heads resting close on the single pillow and sharing the same air. They’d done it so many times before, although without the underlining intimacy that existed now, that Sam didn’t even give it a second thought. He and Dean grew up sleeping on the same bed more often than not, their father snoring away on the other a few inches away.
This time it was just them, and their feelings had morphed from simply platonic. But it wasn’t sex Dean was after, at least at that particular moment. Sam closed his eyes and curled his fingers loosely in Dean’s shirt, letting his brother’s soft, even breathing lure him back to sleep.
Sam awoke some hours later to lips brushing against his own. The sun was barely peeking in the window, casting a soft orange glow into the room. The lips came again, more firmly this time and Sam pressed forward to return the kiss. Dean’s hand slid down to his ass, fingers just breaching between his cheeks as lips parted and their tongues slid wetly together.
Sam allowed himself to be rolled onto his back, his fingers carding through Dean’s hair as his brother’s mouth moved from his own to trace a path down his throat. Sam’s shirt was pushed up to bunch at his armpits, the blanket around his and Dean’s hips as Dean pressed kisses and breathed warm air over Sam’s bared chest and stomach. He licked at his brother’s bellybutton, earning a gasp before moving on and easing Sam’s boxers down slim hips and thighs.
Shivering a little while his cock hardened against his stomach, Sam lifted his hips to help then spread his legs so that Dean could settle on his front between them. He moaned as a hot tongue traced the length of his erection, a sucking kiss pressed to the bulbous head before it was taken into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth.
Desperate to keep quiet and not wake Ben just across the hall, Sam bit on the knuckle of one hand’s forefinger hard enough to sting while his other hand carded through Dean’s short hair.
Dean moved slow, taking Sam in as far as he could without gagging before dragging his mouth up and down. He sucked as he pulled Sam in, then curled his tongue around him as he withdrew. He moved his mouth away with a wet pop, pushing Sam’s legs apart further to lick at his inner thighs and balls.
Sam’s fingers caressed the back of Dean’s head, muffled whimpers of desire and desperation escaping his lips as his thumb traced the skin behind Dean’s ear. His thighs trembled a little as Dean pressed a spit-slick finger slowly inside of his body, feeling every inch of the digit as it slid into him.
Dean took Sam in his mouth again as he thrust his finger back and forth a few times before adding a second. He curled them at his second knuckles, pushing deep and as soon as he found the walnut sized muscle inside of Sam’s body he immediately pressed and rubbed against it.
Sam’s hips jerked, white hot pleasure shooting through his body as Dean played with his prostate. His dick hardened even further, leaking precome steadily onto Dean’s tongue. He wanted to beg his brother to fuck him, take him so damn deeply that he’d walk funny for two days but Sam couldn’t risk taking his finger from his mouth. If he did, he’d wake the whole damn house and that wasn’t exactly an option.
At that moment Dean sucked hard and Sam finally had to remove his finger only to stuff a corner of the pillow passed his lips instead. His back bowed as he muffled his cry into the white fabric, his dick splurting rope after rope of thick semen into his brother’s waiting mouth.
Dean backed off a little so that the white cream splashed onto his tongue, softly suckling Sam until he was finished. When it ended he took both his mouth and fingers away and slid up his brother’s body, pulling the moist pillow away and pressing his tongue against Sam’s mouth.
Sam eagerly parted his lips, taking Dean’s tongue inside and tasting himself. They passed his semen between their mouths until it was gone completely, Dean rocking his fabric-clad erection against Sam’s flaccid cock.
Sam had just started to move his hands to the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs when a cry broke through their soft panting.
“Daddy!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean groaned in frustration as Sam pushed him away and got off the bed. He flopped down onto his stomach, barely resisting the urge to thrust his aching hardness against the mattress beneath him.
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Sam laughed as he pulled his boxers back on, then a pair of jeans. He rinsed his mouth with the glass of water that was on the nightstand. “Welcome to parenthood, Dean.”
Dean grumbled something unintelligible as Sam disappeared from the room.
TBC