Fic: Middle of Nowhere | SR/Reeveverse Fusion | Jason Kent/Dean White | NC-17 | 1/1
Title: Middle of Nowhere
Fandom: Superman Returns/Reeveverse Fusion (with gratuitous Supernatural meta ftw)
Pairing: Jason Kent/Dean White (futurefic, names altered from Jason White/Ricky Lang, for various reasons)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,450
Prompts: For PB XIV: identity, family, brothers, eyes; For the Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: beer, comfort
Summary: After Donna leaves Jason, he takes off and winds up in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. One semi-anonymous hookup later, and his whole life changes.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks. If I owned it, there'd be a hell of a lot more gay sex, and MOS would be a direct sequel to SR.
Author's Notes: So, this is an AU future-fic set off the side of my Aftermath-verse, in which Clark and Lois are married had had two more kids, Jason grew up with the Titans and was engaged to Donna Troy, and Richard wound up married to Lana Lang, who has a son named Ricky (SIII canon, ftw). In this version of events, Jason only ever met Ricky once, though their names given here are Aftermath-verse canon. Also, this counts as gratuitous Supernatural Sam/Dean fic, as I have Jared Padalecki cast as grown-up Jason, and Jensen Ackles cast as grown up Ricky. Erm, enjoy? XD
Middle of Nowhere
Jason was almost all the way to Smallville-on foot-when his brain caught up with him. Running away from Metropolis at top speed sure as hell wasn’t the answer to his problems. Neither was walking out on Donna not ten seconds after the dreaded phrase had left her lips.
“I’ve fallen in love with someone else,” she’d said.
She’d fallen in love with someone else? How much more cliché could that have been? And when the hell had she had time to go falling for someone else? She’d been missing for weeks, having disappeared the same way that tens of millions of people had, all over the globe, in what was now called the ‘Convergence Event’ by the cape and cowl community. She’d been gone. And to hear her tell the tale-all the Donnas of all the universes crammed into her head as she’d been thrown into a world of utter mayhem-he’d figured there hadn’t been any time to get particularly friendly with any of her ‘traveling companions’.
“It’s Jason,” she’d said.
“Yeah?”
But she hadn’t been trying to get his attention.
“I’m so sorry,” she’d whispered, turning away from him just as he caught sight of the tears starting to streak down her face. “We were in the same boat, you know? We were dealing with the same Multiversal bullshit, and-and-”
“I gotta go,” Jason had said then, realization hitting him. Jason Todd. She’d fallen in love with Jason Todd. The ass-hole little brother of his best friend, the Robin that refused to fit the mold. The godforsaken Red Hood. Donna was leaving him for that guy.
A few seconds later, and Jason was here, pulled to a stop at the side of I-10 in the middle of nowhere, Kansas with a cloud of dust following in his wake. Another two seconds, and he’d have been standing in Grandma Martha’s living room on the farm in Smallville, alone in a house that’d been essentially empty since his grandma had died five years ago. As far as he knew, his parents weren’t visiting Smallville this weekend, his dad not even scheduled to do his weekly maintenance on the farm for another two days.
So why had he even come out here? For the solitude? Yeah, right. If he wanted solitude, there was a crystalline fortress nestled up on the Arctic Circle that would’ve sufficed just fine. He just … he just needed to work it all out, he guessed. Process what had happened. The long sprint certainly helped, got him to focus, but now … now what? He could keep on going, all the way to the farm, but what good would it do?
He sure as hell didn’t need the reminder of the apple pie life that his grandparents had had, or that his dad had grown up in. That was the very thing his family had all expected him to have with Donna. A Super and a Wonder, the second generation power couple of the hero community, expected to settle down, get married, have a couple of super-powered kids, lead the younger hero set into a new tomorrow, the works.
And now it was all gone. Poof. All thanks to … to a fucking Bat.
So much for the damn second gen Trinity.
Pushing his hands through his too-long hair-always a little too long, just this side of perpetually shaggy, the way he’d liked it since he was a kid-Jason took a deep breath, pulling in the fresh air of the country. Okay, so here he was, pretty much in the middle of limbo, without a clue as to where to go or what to do. Smallville was off the table. Metropolis could kiss his Super-butt right now, thank you very much. San Francisco and New Titans Tower were a no-go-especially with his kid sister and brother hanging out there this weekend. Gotham was a very bad idea. And New York was just too damn loud for him to think straight.
So, walking the rest of the way into the closest town and finding someplace to drink himself into oblivion it was, then.
Putting on just enough speed to kick up a little more dust, Jason jogged into town.
~*~*~
The bar could’ve been any bar anywhere, a tiny little hole-in-the-wall with a gruff older man wiping down the bar itself and a handful of regulars scattered throughout the place, nursing their beers as some of them watched the news on the ancient television in the corner. Just the kind of place Jason was looking for; someplace to unwind, get his mind off of Donna.
Settling onto a stool at the bar, he ordered a beer, and then a second, and before he knew it, he was on his third, still not feeling anything more than a light buzz as his attention drifted to the television in the corner, where the local NBC affiliate was showing footage of Superman rescuing people from flood waters somewhere up the Mississippi. Shit. His dad was gonna kill him for not being out there.
But he figured he could hardly be blamed for needing a few hours away, and besides, there were other Leaguers and Titans on the job, handling it all swiftly. Even Donna was-
Groaning to himself, Jason realized he couldn’t even get away from her way the hell out here. There was just no escape. So naturally, he ordered another beer, the bartender looking at him askance.
“Pretty early in the day to get tanked, isn’t it?”
But that wasn’t the bartender. Following the voice to his right, Jason found a guy about his age settling onto the stool next to him, giving him a long, appraising look, which he returned subtly. The guy was solidly-built, but lean, with short reddish-brown hair, green eyes, and a wash of pale freckles over suntanned cheeks. The kind of guy that probably worked hard and didn’t mind it.
“High tolerance,” he replied, “and a bad day.”
The guy gave him a quirky smile as he got into his own beer, taking a long swallow. “I hear ya’. Been battling a ‘72 Camaro all morning. Had to get away before I started kickin’ its tires.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Mechanic?”
“Yep, I run a garage three blocks over. Dean White,” he said, holding out a hand, that Jason shook.
The name sounded almost familiar, something tickling the back of his brain, but full recognition escaped him. Shaking off the thought, he decided to not scare Dean off with the knowledge that they shared a last name, even if it was his ex-step-father’s, then figured he’d just give his middle name, for anonymity’s sake. Just in case. “Sam,” he answered.
“Something tells me you’re not from around here,” Dean said then, laughter dancing in his eyes.
“That obvious?”
“Oh yeah. For one, you don’t seem to say much for a guy that’s had three beers, and two, you’re covered in road dirt.”
Blinking, Jason glanced down, and realized he was covered in a fine layer of dust and dirt from his run. Crap. “Um, busted,” he said, forcing a laugh as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Had a long drive, and just needed to stop for a while. Didn’t realize it was this bad.”
Dean laughed for real this time, the sound warm and oddly comforting, and somehow familiar. “So where’re you from, then? My money’s on East Coast.”
Now it was Jason’s turn to laugh. “Yeah. Born and raised in Metropolis, though my Dad’s from this area.”
A low whistle, and Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “Long way from home then. Where you stayin’?”
Good question. “Hadn’t really, um, planned out that far yet,” he answered honestly. “I just needed to get away from some personal crap at home.”
Nodding, Dean finished off his beer, then stood from his place at the bar, clasping Jason on the shoulder briefly. “I totally get the ‘running away to clear your head’ thing. If you need a place to crash, come on by the shop. It’s White’s Garage, on Third and Lexington.”
For a moment, Jason wasn’t quite sure to make of the invitation. He hadn’t remembered Kansas being quite this welcoming to East Coast types, though of course his visits had always been more-or-less limited to Smallville, where certain gossipy residents had often gone out of their way to make sure the bastard grandson of Martha Kent was shown the error of his parentage. But that was neither here nor there, considering the open look that Dean was throwing him over his shoulder.
“Um, yeah, I’ll stop by,” he managed at last, before Dean disappeared out the front door, leaving him confused and wondering, and somehow, eager to follow.
~*~*~
Naturally, the garage looked like it’d seen better days, the fenced-in lot beside it filled with broken down old beaters, a few rust-buckets, and a good handful of newer vehicles that probably just needed an oil change or a replacement fuse somewhere. But the cars weren’t what Jason was here for.
Walking into the first open bay he came to, he found Dean rolling out from beneath a gleaming black muscle car, grease on his jeans and shirt and hands, and, well, everywhere.
“Hey, stranger,” Dean called out to him as he pushed himself up and wiped his hands on a rag, not really accomplishing anything. “Get your head clear from all that beer?”
The twinkle in Dean’s eyes told Jason that he was teasing, but he couldn’t quite help the blush he felt on his neck. Rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, he allowed himself a smile. “Um, yeah. After you left I realized I kinda owed you for getting my mind off things. And I guess I could use a place to crash, after all. Not planning on heading back home for a few days, I think.”
Dean raised an eyebrow, then smiled widely. “Well, all right then.” With a wave, he gestured for Jason to join him as he headed into the office off the back of the garage.
Passing by the black muscle car as he followed, Jason took note of the car’s sleek lines. “She’s a beauty,” he observed.
A grin at Jason as they got inside and he shut the door behind them, and Dean nodded. “Nineteen sixty-seven Chevy Impala. Inherited her from my dad. Baby out there’s been with me all my life.”
Again, something tickled at Jason’s brain, but he brushed the thought aside. He was probably just getting the heebies because he was so far out of his comfort zone, geography-wise.
“Sounds like true love,” he said instead, accepting the soda that Dean passed him from a fridge in the corner, and plopping down on a sofa across from the creaking rolling chair that Dean had taken. “Especially since you let her get you that greasy.”
Dean huffed a laugh, then took a long swig of his soda. “Oh yeah. But this is just her monthly rub-down. I’d have done it later, but after that damn Camaro, I needed some TLC.”
At that, Jason joined in the laughter. “I get that. After what happened to me this morning, I needed a little TLC, too. Hence the road trip.”
“Bad break-up, I take it?”
Jason nodded. He didn’t much want to think about it, but he probably at least needed to say it, to get it off his chest. Folding his hands around his soda, he leaned forward on the sofa, elbows on his knees. “My fiancee left me for a douche bag that shares my first name.”
Dean winced, hard. “Damn, dude. That bites.”
Another nod.
“So, strikin’ out on your own for a rebound, huh?”
That brought Jason’s gaze up to meet Dean’s. “Hadn’t really thought about it, but … yeah. I kinda feel like my skin’s trying to crawl off my body, and I just wanna-” But he cut himself off there, catching his tongue before he could say ‘roast that bastard with my eyes’. Getting himself outed as a Super was not on the agenda for this trip.
“Go nuts?” Dean finished for him instead. “Tear somebody up and come so hard you see stars? Wake up in a stranger’s bed all sticky and totally fucked out?”
Jason’s mouth went dry, the imagery going straight to his dick, and he swallowed hard. He hadn’t quite figured out whether Dean’s offer of crash space was what it read on the label, or whether there was a special prize attached, but this made it pretty damn clear.
“Um. Yeah,” he said after a long moment, nodding again and turning the soda bottle in his hands absently. “That.”
Dean grinned crookedly, his eyes flashing with dark and sinful things. “That’s what I thought. C’mon, my place is out back. I just gotta close the garage, then get my ass cleaned up.”
Again, Jason followed him, this time on autopilot.
~*~*~
They were both barely cleaned up from their respective long-ass hard days when Dean had Jason pinned down to a mattress that strained beneath their combined weight, a palm splayed across Jason’s chest as he licked and bit and sucked his way down to his cock, that Jason thought was gonna explode already, just from the build-up alone.
An involuntary shudder, and Jason carded his fingers through Dean’s short hair, unable to get a good hold on him except to wrap his long fingers around him and try to hold on as Dean started to work him with-holy hell-a mouth that was obviously straight out of a porno. “Shit,” he breathed as Dean teased him with a graze of teeth, “gonna blow if you keep that up, man.”
Dean pulled off of him with a long swipe of his tongue, eyes heavily-lidded, and just that look was enough to snap something inside Jason. Before he knew it he was up and flipping Dean over on the bed, pressing him down with a forearm thrown across his back-his gorgeously built, freckled back. “Supplies?” he asked, finding his voice harsh and wrecked, even though they hadn’t really done anything yet.
“Night stand, top drawer,” Dean shot back over his shoulder, and Jason wasted no time retrieving them and preparing them both.
As he worked Dean open with quick, sure fingers-decidedly not thinking about fingering Donna until she shrieked his name-he leaned down and swiped his tongue up the small of Dean’s back, tasting the remains of sweat and soap, the odor of grease somehow part of him. It was as intoxicating as the beer, well, a six pack of beer and maybe a few shots of Jack, and Jason squeezed his eyes shut and settled between Dean’s legs, pushed into him swiftly, a moan escaping him as he bottomed out. Pausing, he took a shaky breath. God.
“Jesus, move!” Dean hissed, arching up and shivering, and that broke Jason’s momentary paralysis, got him moving, the two of them working together with little grunts and ragged breaths.
But Jason hadn’t been with a guy in so long that his body felt like it was on overdrive, running on sheer sensation alone, chasing the edge of that cliff like it was miles away, and then he was there, his body shaking as he came, a shout ripping itself from his throat.
Dean pushed back into him roughly, lifting halfway up onto his knees, and Jason met his hand beneath him, grasping Dean’s cock together and squeezing, tugging, twisting, until Dean bucked and arched, a strangled cry escaping him.
Jason gasped as Dean tightened around him, shivered again, and managed to pull out without making a mess before he collapsed beside Dean on the bed, discarding their used condom.
“Holy crap,” he breathed, pushing a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “Haven’t done that in way too long.”
Next to him, Dean flipped over, avoiding his own mess on the bed. “Clearly,” he teased as he sat up, reached into a drawer to pull out a flask, from which he took a long swig. Offering it to Jason, he went on, “You should hang around a while. Decompress some more.”
That, Jason couldn’t disagree with, and he accepted the flask, took a long drink-straight vodka, damn-and let himself get settled, glancing around the room. “Yeah,” he said as he noted the details of Dean White’s bedroom, the way it was clearly meant for two but lived in by one, the framed pics of classic cars on the walls, the smaller framed pic of Dean and a redheaded woman on the night table, who looked an awful lot like-
Bolting upright, Jason grabbed the photo off the table, looking more closely, as Dean protested with a ‘hey’. “Why are you standing with Lana Lang?” he demanded, now meeting Dean’s offended gaze squarely.
Dean snatched the framed pic from his hands, replacing it on the table, and said, “That’s my mother, ass hole.”
Jason’s mind went gray with static, everything going sideways, and he had to plant a hand on the bed to keep from just falling over, the pieces finally, finally fitting together and starting to make sense. The familiar and comforting laugh, Dean’s familiar eyes, his car, that Jason now remembered seeing just one time so many years ago. God damn.
“You’re … you’re Ricky,” he said, gaping at Dean.
Dean’s-Ricky’s-face twisted with a frown. “Yeah. What of it? Nobody calls me that anymore, but her.”
“I thought-” But Jason wasn’t sure what he’d thought at all. “I mean, Aunt Lana never talked about you much after you went back to live with your dad.”
Eyes wide, Dean spurted, “Aunt Lana!?”
Jason took a deep breath, and ran his hand through his hair. Again. And blinked hard. “Your mom is married to my sort-of-ex-step-father, Richard. And she grew up with my dad, Clark Kent, in Smallville.”
Silence took hold of the room for a long moment, before Dean blew out a breath, taking his flask back and draining it. “Okay,” he said at last. “So, that makes you Jason. The kid I met that one Christmas.”
Jason nodded slowly.
“Why did you tell me your name was Sam?”
A frown, and Jason sighed. “That is my name. Jason Samuel Kent. Formerly Jason Samuel White. I just … didn’t feel like giving out personal info.”
“Oh man,” Dean said, shaking his head. “This is twisted. Thank fuck we aren’t actually related.”
Jason shuddered. “Now that would just be messed up.” But then something else occurred to him, shorting out certain neurons. “Wait. Richard Dean White? How did you wind up with Richard’s name? They didn’t even meet until we were, what, six?”
Dean huffed out a laugh. “Totally coincidence. My dad was Don White, and my mom had a serious thing for that guy from Stargate, you know, the one that was MacGuyver back in the eighties? Richard Dean Anderson.”
Blinking, Jason was unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up from deep in his chest, and he lost himself to the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. Here he was just trying to work off the stress of having lost Donna, and he wound up screwing a guy that was technically his step-brother.
“Hey, it’s not that funny,” Dean insisted, shoving him playfully by the shoulder.
“Dude,” Jason said, swiping away tears and trying to get his laughter under control, “it’s like we walked into a redneck joke!”
That finally got Dean to laugh with him, the strange tension broken, but eventually reality settled in once more as they collected themselves and started to clean up and get redressed.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Jason started as he reached for his boots. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Don’t think my dad would survive the heart attack it’d give him. Aunt Lana, either. And Richard would just laugh his ass off.”
Dean raised an eyebrow at him and threw him a smirk. “This never happened. I’m still serious about crashing, though. You need a place, I got it.”
A smile, and Jason tossed one of his boots at Dean. “Thanks. Bro.”
“Aw, shut up.”
And like that, Jason was damn glad he’d stopped in the middle of nowhere to clear his head. Things might’ve ended with Donna, but out here he’d found what amounted to family, friendship, and a new start. Awkward hookup notwithstanding. It was just what he’d needed.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Superman Returns/Reeveverse Fusion (with gratuitous Supernatural meta ftw)
Pairing: Jason Kent/Dean White (futurefic, names altered from Jason White/Ricky Lang, for various reasons)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,450
Prompts: For PB XIV: identity, family, brothers, eyes; For the Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: beer, comfort
Summary: After Donna leaves Jason, he takes off and winds up in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. One semi-anonymous hookup later, and his whole life changes.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks. If I owned it, there'd be a hell of a lot more gay sex, and MOS would be a direct sequel to SR.
Author's Notes: So, this is an AU future-fic set off the side of my Aftermath-verse, in which Clark and Lois are married had had two more kids, Jason grew up with the Titans and was engaged to Donna Troy, and Richard wound up married to Lana Lang, who has a son named Ricky (SIII canon, ftw). In this version of events, Jason only ever met Ricky once, though their names given here are Aftermath-verse canon. Also, this counts as gratuitous Supernatural Sam/Dean fic, as I have Jared Padalecki cast as grown-up Jason, and Jensen Ackles cast as grown up Ricky. Erm, enjoy? XD
Middle of Nowhere
Jason was almost all the way to Smallville-on foot-when his brain caught up with him. Running away from Metropolis at top speed sure as hell wasn’t the answer to his problems. Neither was walking out on Donna not ten seconds after the dreaded phrase had left her lips.
“I’ve fallen in love with someone else,” she’d said.
She’d fallen in love with someone else? How much more cliché could that have been? And when the hell had she had time to go falling for someone else? She’d been missing for weeks, having disappeared the same way that tens of millions of people had, all over the globe, in what was now called the ‘Convergence Event’ by the cape and cowl community. She’d been gone. And to hear her tell the tale-all the Donnas of all the universes crammed into her head as she’d been thrown into a world of utter mayhem-he’d figured there hadn’t been any time to get particularly friendly with any of her ‘traveling companions’.
“It’s Jason,” she’d said.
“Yeah?”
But she hadn’t been trying to get his attention.
“I’m so sorry,” she’d whispered, turning away from him just as he caught sight of the tears starting to streak down her face. “We were in the same boat, you know? We were dealing with the same Multiversal bullshit, and-and-”
“I gotta go,” Jason had said then, realization hitting him. Jason Todd. She’d fallen in love with Jason Todd. The ass-hole little brother of his best friend, the Robin that refused to fit the mold. The godforsaken Red Hood. Donna was leaving him for that guy.
A few seconds later, and Jason was here, pulled to a stop at the side of I-10 in the middle of nowhere, Kansas with a cloud of dust following in his wake. Another two seconds, and he’d have been standing in Grandma Martha’s living room on the farm in Smallville, alone in a house that’d been essentially empty since his grandma had died five years ago. As far as he knew, his parents weren’t visiting Smallville this weekend, his dad not even scheduled to do his weekly maintenance on the farm for another two days.
So why had he even come out here? For the solitude? Yeah, right. If he wanted solitude, there was a crystalline fortress nestled up on the Arctic Circle that would’ve sufficed just fine. He just … he just needed to work it all out, he guessed. Process what had happened. The long sprint certainly helped, got him to focus, but now … now what? He could keep on going, all the way to the farm, but what good would it do?
He sure as hell didn’t need the reminder of the apple pie life that his grandparents had had, or that his dad had grown up in. That was the very thing his family had all expected him to have with Donna. A Super and a Wonder, the second generation power couple of the hero community, expected to settle down, get married, have a couple of super-powered kids, lead the younger hero set into a new tomorrow, the works.
And now it was all gone. Poof. All thanks to … to a fucking Bat.
So much for the damn second gen Trinity.
Pushing his hands through his too-long hair-always a little too long, just this side of perpetually shaggy, the way he’d liked it since he was a kid-Jason took a deep breath, pulling in the fresh air of the country. Okay, so here he was, pretty much in the middle of limbo, without a clue as to where to go or what to do. Smallville was off the table. Metropolis could kiss his Super-butt right now, thank you very much. San Francisco and New Titans Tower were a no-go-especially with his kid sister and brother hanging out there this weekend. Gotham was a very bad idea. And New York was just too damn loud for him to think straight.
So, walking the rest of the way into the closest town and finding someplace to drink himself into oblivion it was, then.
Putting on just enough speed to kick up a little more dust, Jason jogged into town.
~*~*~
The bar could’ve been any bar anywhere, a tiny little hole-in-the-wall with a gruff older man wiping down the bar itself and a handful of regulars scattered throughout the place, nursing their beers as some of them watched the news on the ancient television in the corner. Just the kind of place Jason was looking for; someplace to unwind, get his mind off of Donna.
Settling onto a stool at the bar, he ordered a beer, and then a second, and before he knew it, he was on his third, still not feeling anything more than a light buzz as his attention drifted to the television in the corner, where the local NBC affiliate was showing footage of Superman rescuing people from flood waters somewhere up the Mississippi. Shit. His dad was gonna kill him for not being out there.
But he figured he could hardly be blamed for needing a few hours away, and besides, there were other Leaguers and Titans on the job, handling it all swiftly. Even Donna was-
Groaning to himself, Jason realized he couldn’t even get away from her way the hell out here. There was just no escape. So naturally, he ordered another beer, the bartender looking at him askance.
“Pretty early in the day to get tanked, isn’t it?”
But that wasn’t the bartender. Following the voice to his right, Jason found a guy about his age settling onto the stool next to him, giving him a long, appraising look, which he returned subtly. The guy was solidly-built, but lean, with short reddish-brown hair, green eyes, and a wash of pale freckles over suntanned cheeks. The kind of guy that probably worked hard and didn’t mind it.
“High tolerance,” he replied, “and a bad day.”
The guy gave him a quirky smile as he got into his own beer, taking a long swallow. “I hear ya’. Been battling a ‘72 Camaro all morning. Had to get away before I started kickin’ its tires.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Mechanic?”
“Yep, I run a garage three blocks over. Dean White,” he said, holding out a hand, that Jason shook.
The name sounded almost familiar, something tickling the back of his brain, but full recognition escaped him. Shaking off the thought, he decided to not scare Dean off with the knowledge that they shared a last name, even if it was his ex-step-father’s, then figured he’d just give his middle name, for anonymity’s sake. Just in case. “Sam,” he answered.
“Something tells me you’re not from around here,” Dean said then, laughter dancing in his eyes.
“That obvious?”
“Oh yeah. For one, you don’t seem to say much for a guy that’s had three beers, and two, you’re covered in road dirt.”
Blinking, Jason glanced down, and realized he was covered in a fine layer of dust and dirt from his run. Crap. “Um, busted,” he said, forcing a laugh as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Had a long drive, and just needed to stop for a while. Didn’t realize it was this bad.”
Dean laughed for real this time, the sound warm and oddly comforting, and somehow familiar. “So where’re you from, then? My money’s on East Coast.”
Now it was Jason’s turn to laugh. “Yeah. Born and raised in Metropolis, though my Dad’s from this area.”
A low whistle, and Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “Long way from home then. Where you stayin’?”
Good question. “Hadn’t really, um, planned out that far yet,” he answered honestly. “I just needed to get away from some personal crap at home.”
Nodding, Dean finished off his beer, then stood from his place at the bar, clasping Jason on the shoulder briefly. “I totally get the ‘running away to clear your head’ thing. If you need a place to crash, come on by the shop. It’s White’s Garage, on Third and Lexington.”
For a moment, Jason wasn’t quite sure to make of the invitation. He hadn’t remembered Kansas being quite this welcoming to East Coast types, though of course his visits had always been more-or-less limited to Smallville, where certain gossipy residents had often gone out of their way to make sure the bastard grandson of Martha Kent was shown the error of his parentage. But that was neither here nor there, considering the open look that Dean was throwing him over his shoulder.
“Um, yeah, I’ll stop by,” he managed at last, before Dean disappeared out the front door, leaving him confused and wondering, and somehow, eager to follow.
~*~*~
Naturally, the garage looked like it’d seen better days, the fenced-in lot beside it filled with broken down old beaters, a few rust-buckets, and a good handful of newer vehicles that probably just needed an oil change or a replacement fuse somewhere. But the cars weren’t what Jason was here for.
Walking into the first open bay he came to, he found Dean rolling out from beneath a gleaming black muscle car, grease on his jeans and shirt and hands, and, well, everywhere.
“Hey, stranger,” Dean called out to him as he pushed himself up and wiped his hands on a rag, not really accomplishing anything. “Get your head clear from all that beer?”
The twinkle in Dean’s eyes told Jason that he was teasing, but he couldn’t quite help the blush he felt on his neck. Rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, he allowed himself a smile. “Um, yeah. After you left I realized I kinda owed you for getting my mind off things. And I guess I could use a place to crash, after all. Not planning on heading back home for a few days, I think.”
Dean raised an eyebrow, then smiled widely. “Well, all right then.” With a wave, he gestured for Jason to join him as he headed into the office off the back of the garage.
Passing by the black muscle car as he followed, Jason took note of the car’s sleek lines. “She’s a beauty,” he observed.
A grin at Jason as they got inside and he shut the door behind them, and Dean nodded. “Nineteen sixty-seven Chevy Impala. Inherited her from my dad. Baby out there’s been with me all my life.”
Again, something tickled at Jason’s brain, but he brushed the thought aside. He was probably just getting the heebies because he was so far out of his comfort zone, geography-wise.
“Sounds like true love,” he said instead, accepting the soda that Dean passed him from a fridge in the corner, and plopping down on a sofa across from the creaking rolling chair that Dean had taken. “Especially since you let her get you that greasy.”
Dean huffed a laugh, then took a long swig of his soda. “Oh yeah. But this is just her monthly rub-down. I’d have done it later, but after that damn Camaro, I needed some TLC.”
At that, Jason joined in the laughter. “I get that. After what happened to me this morning, I needed a little TLC, too. Hence the road trip.”
“Bad break-up, I take it?”
Jason nodded. He didn’t much want to think about it, but he probably at least needed to say it, to get it off his chest. Folding his hands around his soda, he leaned forward on the sofa, elbows on his knees. “My fiancee left me for a douche bag that shares my first name.”
Dean winced, hard. “Damn, dude. That bites.”
Another nod.
“So, strikin’ out on your own for a rebound, huh?”
That brought Jason’s gaze up to meet Dean’s. “Hadn’t really thought about it, but … yeah. I kinda feel like my skin’s trying to crawl off my body, and I just wanna-” But he cut himself off there, catching his tongue before he could say ‘roast that bastard with my eyes’. Getting himself outed as a Super was not on the agenda for this trip.
“Go nuts?” Dean finished for him instead. “Tear somebody up and come so hard you see stars? Wake up in a stranger’s bed all sticky and totally fucked out?”
Jason’s mouth went dry, the imagery going straight to his dick, and he swallowed hard. He hadn’t quite figured out whether Dean’s offer of crash space was what it read on the label, or whether there was a special prize attached, but this made it pretty damn clear.
“Um. Yeah,” he said after a long moment, nodding again and turning the soda bottle in his hands absently. “That.”
Dean grinned crookedly, his eyes flashing with dark and sinful things. “That’s what I thought. C’mon, my place is out back. I just gotta close the garage, then get my ass cleaned up.”
Again, Jason followed him, this time on autopilot.
~*~*~
They were both barely cleaned up from their respective long-ass hard days when Dean had Jason pinned down to a mattress that strained beneath their combined weight, a palm splayed across Jason’s chest as he licked and bit and sucked his way down to his cock, that Jason thought was gonna explode already, just from the build-up alone.
An involuntary shudder, and Jason carded his fingers through Dean’s short hair, unable to get a good hold on him except to wrap his long fingers around him and try to hold on as Dean started to work him with-holy hell-a mouth that was obviously straight out of a porno. “Shit,” he breathed as Dean teased him with a graze of teeth, “gonna blow if you keep that up, man.”
Dean pulled off of him with a long swipe of his tongue, eyes heavily-lidded, and just that look was enough to snap something inside Jason. Before he knew it he was up and flipping Dean over on the bed, pressing him down with a forearm thrown across his back-his gorgeously built, freckled back. “Supplies?” he asked, finding his voice harsh and wrecked, even though they hadn’t really done anything yet.
“Night stand, top drawer,” Dean shot back over his shoulder, and Jason wasted no time retrieving them and preparing them both.
As he worked Dean open with quick, sure fingers-decidedly not thinking about fingering Donna until she shrieked his name-he leaned down and swiped his tongue up the small of Dean’s back, tasting the remains of sweat and soap, the odor of grease somehow part of him. It was as intoxicating as the beer, well, a six pack of beer and maybe a few shots of Jack, and Jason squeezed his eyes shut and settled between Dean’s legs, pushed into him swiftly, a moan escaping him as he bottomed out. Pausing, he took a shaky breath. God.
“Jesus, move!” Dean hissed, arching up and shivering, and that broke Jason’s momentary paralysis, got him moving, the two of them working together with little grunts and ragged breaths.
But Jason hadn’t been with a guy in so long that his body felt like it was on overdrive, running on sheer sensation alone, chasing the edge of that cliff like it was miles away, and then he was there, his body shaking as he came, a shout ripping itself from his throat.
Dean pushed back into him roughly, lifting halfway up onto his knees, and Jason met his hand beneath him, grasping Dean’s cock together and squeezing, tugging, twisting, until Dean bucked and arched, a strangled cry escaping him.
Jason gasped as Dean tightened around him, shivered again, and managed to pull out without making a mess before he collapsed beside Dean on the bed, discarding their used condom.
“Holy crap,” he breathed, pushing a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “Haven’t done that in way too long.”
Next to him, Dean flipped over, avoiding his own mess on the bed. “Clearly,” he teased as he sat up, reached into a drawer to pull out a flask, from which he took a long swig. Offering it to Jason, he went on, “You should hang around a while. Decompress some more.”
That, Jason couldn’t disagree with, and he accepted the flask, took a long drink-straight vodka, damn-and let himself get settled, glancing around the room. “Yeah,” he said as he noted the details of Dean White’s bedroom, the way it was clearly meant for two but lived in by one, the framed pics of classic cars on the walls, the smaller framed pic of Dean and a redheaded woman on the night table, who looked an awful lot like-
Bolting upright, Jason grabbed the photo off the table, looking more closely, as Dean protested with a ‘hey’. “Why are you standing with Lana Lang?” he demanded, now meeting Dean’s offended gaze squarely.
Dean snatched the framed pic from his hands, replacing it on the table, and said, “That’s my mother, ass hole.”
Jason’s mind went gray with static, everything going sideways, and he had to plant a hand on the bed to keep from just falling over, the pieces finally, finally fitting together and starting to make sense. The familiar and comforting laugh, Dean’s familiar eyes, his car, that Jason now remembered seeing just one time so many years ago. God damn.
“You’re … you’re Ricky,” he said, gaping at Dean.
Dean’s-Ricky’s-face twisted with a frown. “Yeah. What of it? Nobody calls me that anymore, but her.”
“I thought-” But Jason wasn’t sure what he’d thought at all. “I mean, Aunt Lana never talked about you much after you went back to live with your dad.”
Eyes wide, Dean spurted, “Aunt Lana!?”
Jason took a deep breath, and ran his hand through his hair. Again. And blinked hard. “Your mom is married to my sort-of-ex-step-father, Richard. And she grew up with my dad, Clark Kent, in Smallville.”
Silence took hold of the room for a long moment, before Dean blew out a breath, taking his flask back and draining it. “Okay,” he said at last. “So, that makes you Jason. The kid I met that one Christmas.”
Jason nodded slowly.
“Why did you tell me your name was Sam?”
A frown, and Jason sighed. “That is my name. Jason Samuel Kent. Formerly Jason Samuel White. I just … didn’t feel like giving out personal info.”
“Oh man,” Dean said, shaking his head. “This is twisted. Thank fuck we aren’t actually related.”
Jason shuddered. “Now that would just be messed up.” But then something else occurred to him, shorting out certain neurons. “Wait. Richard Dean White? How did you wind up with Richard’s name? They didn’t even meet until we were, what, six?”
Dean huffed out a laugh. “Totally coincidence. My dad was Don White, and my mom had a serious thing for that guy from Stargate, you know, the one that was MacGuyver back in the eighties? Richard Dean Anderson.”
Blinking, Jason was unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up from deep in his chest, and he lost himself to the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. Here he was just trying to work off the stress of having lost Donna, and he wound up screwing a guy that was technically his step-brother.
“Hey, it’s not that funny,” Dean insisted, shoving him playfully by the shoulder.
“Dude,” Jason said, swiping away tears and trying to get his laughter under control, “it’s like we walked into a redneck joke!”
That finally got Dean to laugh with him, the strange tension broken, but eventually reality settled in once more as they collected themselves and started to clean up and get redressed.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Jason started as he reached for his boots. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Don’t think my dad would survive the heart attack it’d give him. Aunt Lana, either. And Richard would just laugh his ass off.”
Dean raised an eyebrow at him and threw him a smirk. “This never happened. I’m still serious about crashing, though. You need a place, I got it.”
A smile, and Jason tossed one of his boots at Dean. “Thanks. Bro.”
“Aw, shut up.”
And like that, Jason was damn glad he’d stopped in the middle of nowhere to clear his head. Things might’ve ended with Donna, but out here he’d found what amounted to family, friendship, and a new start. Awkward hookup notwithstanding. It was just what he’d needed.
~*~*~*~