Wrapped in Honey 30/49
Chapter 30
Dean lay in bed next to Sam. His mind was still a swirling mess but he wasn't as drunk as he'd like to be anymore. At least his face didn't hurt that much but his chest was still tight and every breath he took he had to force down into his lungs. Now and then blurred together and he wasn't exactly sure what had happened today and what so many years ago. All he knew was that this guy had called him a faggot and that he'd been right in his face and Dean had seen the anger and maybe a hint of insanity flickering in his eyes. Or had that been his dad? He didn't know. All he knew was that he felt tired. Wrung out and tired.
Sam lay next to him equally silent and unmoving and probably bursting with questions but Dean couldn't hold on to his own thoughts right now so he didn't care what was going on in the other man's mind.
"It was just like then." The words broke free, he couldn't hold them back even if he'd wanted to. And for some reason he didn't want to hold them back anymore. He wanted to tell Sam, he wanted Sam to know. He needed Sam to know. "He'd called us faggots as well."
After a second Sam's soft voice pierced through the darkness of the room, asking the one and only question here: "Who?"
"My dad." Dean answered, eyes fixed on where the ceiling was but in the dark he couldn't make it out. He probably couldn't even make out Sam's silhouette right next to him but he didn't turn his head to find out. It was easier like this. Covered in darkness he could pretend that he was alone, that Sam didn't lay just inches from him, waiting for his next words.
"My dad has never been a good dad." Dean spoke and his chest tightened but he kept going. If he didn't get this out now he might choke on it. "Or even an okay dad. Most of the time he was a drunken dad. He was always quick with his belt or his fist when I wasn't good enough or quick enough or smart enough." He paused. "When I wasn't enough." His voice broke and he blinked against the tears.
Sam didn't say a word, didn't tell him how sorry he was or something crappy like that and Dean appreciated that. He'd heard those meaningless words often enough.
However, Sam did reach over and placed his hand on Dean's chest. Just firm and warm and there. For some reason Dean breathed easier with that.
"When he noticed that I had a crush on a girl, he made fun of me." He continued. "And broke my arm for daydreaming. But at least I wasn't a damn faggot, he said." He paused once again, mind wandering back to Becky Palmer, his summer crush of '93 who he'd never even spoken to because he was such a loser.
"For a while I tried to convince myself that I wasn't looking at boys as well, that I wasn't a damn faggot." The hand on his chest started to rub firm circles into his tight muscles and Dean let out a hitched breath. "Then I met Kyle. I fell head over heels for him. I never thought I'd stand a chance, you know, not that I ever intended to act on that anyway, but one day Kyle sat down next to me during lunch and just started talking." He fell silent, trying to hold on to the good memories.
"What happened then?" Sam asked softly. His voice was a little too even, a little too controlled but Dean didn't want to think about the pity hidden beneath that. Not now.
"Dad was on a business trip and he wasn't supposed to come home for a couple of days so I invited Kyle over. We had pizza and he brought beer." He couldn't help but smile at that memory. "Don't know where he snagged those."
"How old where you?"
"Fifteen." Dean answered. "We made out on the couch. We both hadn't any experience but we were teenagers, we would figure it out. That's how Dad found us, kissing on the couch." He couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "I woke up in the hospital three month later. I missed Kyle's funeral."
Sam drew him closer and Dean clung to him, finally letting it all out. He didn't know how long they stayed like that. Sam let him cry and just held him until there where no tears left.
"Dad was in prison and I was a minor so Bobby took me in." His nose was clogged and his voice ragged but he needed to finish the story. He wouldn't have the courage to start this all over again, he knew that. "He drove me to my appointments with the doctors and the physiotherapists and the psychologists and other -ists." He let his disgust show in his voice so Sam would get his drift. There had been so many doctors and therapists and Dean had hated every single one of them. "Bobby helped me in every way he could. Why he even bothered I've no clue."
"Because he loves you." Sam answered. "I'm sorry for Kyle."
"Me too. I went to see his parents, I've no idea why." He shook his head at that stupidity. What he'd hoped to gain from that he didn't know but back then he'd felt the urge to see them. Maybe because they were the only ones left who knew Kyle. Maybe he needed some kind of closure.
"It didn't go well?" Sam guessed.
"They were furious when they saw me." That had been the last straw. What his father had done, he could live with that, he'd accepted a long time ago that one day his own dad would beat him to death, but from Kyle's parents he'd expected something else. Understanding maybe?
"They yelled at me." His breath hitched, he could barely bring the words out. "It was all my fault, they said. I corrupted their sweet little boy and there was that word again." He was sick of hearing and saying it but by now Sam would know what he was talking about.
"I hope God punishes you with AIDS." He repeated the words Kyle's mom had thrown at him. He could still hear her voice in his mind. "That was the last thing I heard from them."
There, he was done. A sudden tiredness claimed his body but in a good way. Like he'd gotten rid of something he'd carried around for way too long. It had festered deep inside him, slowly killing him, and now it was out in the open. Holding his breath he waited for Sam's reaction.
Sam didn't push him away, didn't say how disgusted he was. Instead he tightened his hold on him. It felt nice. With a sigh Dean drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, he felt like shit. His face hurt and now he noticed a few other spots where he'd taken hits. And the last shot of whiskey had probably been that one too many. It wasn't the worst hangover ever but it didn't help to brighten his mood.
With a groan he rolled to his side and faced Sam who was still sleeping. Had he really told Sam everything? Last night Sam had been equally drunk, how would he react when he thought about what Dean had told him in the light of day?
Dean was pretty sure Sam wouldn't bring him back to the Food Market but living together was about to turn really awkward. Dean just wasn't sure if Sam would go with disgust or pity. And which one would be worse.
Letting Sam sleep Dean slipped out of bed and went downstairs for a coffee. He spiked it with a good shot of whiskey, not the healthiest way of dealing but he didn't care. He washed down two more painkillers with that and then he could only wait for Sam to come downstairs.
He thought about going back to work, which wouldn't be hiding in the basement, not really, but he couldn't avoid Sam forever and his head protested at the thought of hammer on metal alone. So he just sat in the kitchen, nursing his coffee, and waited.
"Morning." Sam came in a while later. He was sporting a bad case of bed-hair and was still in his sleepwear. He made bee-line for the coffee maker which was apparently way more interesting than Dean.
"How do you feel?" Sam slumped down in his chair when he had his coffee.
"I'll live." Dean tried to hide his face behind his cup.
"I've some ointment for the cut and something for the bruise." Sam offered, carefully tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. Dean sighed.
"What I told you last night." He started, eyes on the cup in his hand, he just couldn't look Sam in the eye right now. "You didn't have enough to drink to pretend I've never opened my big mouth, didn't you?"
"Dean, I've no words for what happened to you." Sam set his cup aside and put his serious face on. "I've told you before what I see when I look at you. You're a fighter, a surviver, that hasn't changed. Quite the opposite. You're the strongest man I know."
Dean had heard those words before, more often than he cared to count, but hearing them from Sam he maybe started to believe them. Just a little bit.
"The only thing that has changed." Sam continued and Dean stiffened to that. Here it comes. "Is that I understand better why you react like you do to certain things."
"You mean why I freak out and have nightmares." Dean summed it up.
"Why you are who you are." Sam corrected. "Thank you for telling me."
After breakfast Dean went over to the couch and switched the TV on. He was still tired and blissfully numb from the painkillers and maybe from everything else as well so he settled for a lazy day on the couch.
Sam got the hint and left him alone most of the time.
When Dean woke up in the evening they ordered in Chinese and it was almost like nothing had changed. However, Dean couldn't help but wonder how this would change their relationship in the long run. Would Sam treat him like he could break any second? Weight every word he said because he feared the wrong one would trigger the next panic attack?
Dean had seen that before. The one time he had told somebody the guy treated him like a raw egg and then left a few month later because he couldn't deal with Dean's shit.
What would happen if Sam decided he couldn't deal with Dean's shit anymore?
"You're thinking too much." Sam startled him out of his thoughts.
"Sorry."
"You know what always helps me when I want to get my head free?" Sam asked and set his take-out box aside. Dean's was still more than half-full and he doubted he could eat more.
"Sex?" Dean put his box on the table as well and leaned back.
Sam pointed his chopsticks at Dean with a grin.
"Your solution to everything is sex." Dean reminded him but thinking about it, it wasn't that bad of an idea. After sleeping most of the day Dean felt well rested and while hanging out with Sam was nice most of the time, today too much unspoken stuff hung between them. It may be a good idea to stop thinking for a while.
"Well, there was this thing about taking my sweet time with your ass." Sam pointed out. "If you still want that."
"Smooth, Sammy, really smooth." Dean shook his head to that. In the end it didn't look like that much had changed after all.
Chapter 31
Masterpost