Fic: Time Out (1/1) R (D/C)
Title: Time Out
Fandom: Dark Blue
Pairing: Dean/Carter
Rating: R
Author: nancy
Email: the_tenth_muse1@yahoo.com
Spoilers: August
Series: maybe?
Warnings: D/s implied, daddy!fic implied, language
Summary: Dean needs a time out after Carter's kidnapping.
Notes: thanks to Free for the cheerleading!
It had just about eaten at Dean’s control to let Carter go off on his own in that harebrained kidnapping idea. Not that he had any choice, since Carter was the boss. He could’ve cheerfully strangled Ty and Carter both on finding out the plan and why. On the one hand, he agreed with Ty that Jaimie shouldn’t be exposed to that kind of risk. On the other hand, there was nothing to say the same couldn’t happen to Carter. Bastards like that didn’t always care about gender when it came to power trips.
Killing those fuckers who’d beaten Carter had felt damn good, even though he hadn’t known about the beating when he’d shot them. He’d assumed it, given their MO, but hadn’t known for sure. It was pure irony that while the line had gotten blurrier every time he went under, he hadn’t truly crossed it until he’d been wearing his badge.
“Need a lift home?” Ty asked.
Dean stiffened at the other man’s offer and he shook his head. “I’m good.”
Sitting beside him at the bar, Ty put a hand on his shoulder and countered, “You’ve been drinking hard for an hour steady, Dean. Let me drive you home.”
Dean jerked his shoulder away from him and snapped, “Fuck off, Ty, I don’t need help from you!”
Ty held up his hands and stood again. “Fine. I’ll just tell the bartender to hold onto your keys.”
“Stop trying to run my fuckin’ life,” Dean snarled, standing with a glare.
A strong hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed tight as Carter’s voice said from behind, “I’ve got him, Ty. Go on home.”
Ty gave Dean a sour look, but nodded at Carter. “Good luck, man. Glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks,” Carter replied easily. “And good work.”
Dean tried to shrug off Carter’s hand, too, but the other man wouldn’t allow it, tightening his grip until it as painful and he had to grit his teeth. He refused to make a sound.
“You under control now?” Carter questioned, almost casually.
Canting his head at the other man, Dean’s lip curled as he retorted, “As much as I ever am, boss.”
Carter tugged him in close and said softly, “Settle down now, boy, or you’re going to regret it.”
Part of Dean wanted to just melt into the other man and hold tight, to make sure that Carter hadn’t been seriously injured, even thought Dean knew that he hadn’t. That same part of him wanted to curl up on Carter’s lap and be held until they fell asleep. Like most times, though, the anger and need to lash out won over the small part of him that craved to be sheltered.
Jutting his chin out at Carter, Dean challenged, “Make me.”
Carter’s mouth slid a little sideways as he replied calmly, “That can be arranged. Get your ass in my car, boy.”
Head held high, Dean made sure to down his last Jack before walked almost steadily out of the bar. He knew Carter would be parked right out front; he always was when ‘rescuing’ Dean from alcohol. Most of the time it was before he was nearing pass-out stage, but sometimes not and Carter had learned to be cautious about it over the years.
The ride was completely silent. Even slightly drunk, Dean didn’t miss how stiffly Carter held himself. He had a couple of bruised ribs from the blows, which made him wonder just how the other man intended to punish him for being so insubordinate. It was different every time and always fit the crime, so to speak.
In Carter’s apartment, which was neater than his but not picture perfect by any stretch, Dean waited impatiently for things to get started. Carter ignored him, going into the kitchen and doing something in there for what seemed like forever. Dean toed off his sneakers and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair as he waited.
When Carter came back, it was with a bottle of water and a damp facecloth, which made Dean frown curiously and ask, “What’s that for?”
Carter didn’t answer. He sat on the sofa and set both items beside him before motioning Dean over.
Wary, Dean walked over and prompted angrily, “Well? What’s going on?”
Carter reached out to encircle Dean’s wrist with his hand, pulling him even closer and then tugging down. Frowning more, Dean slowly sat down and then stiffened when the other man shifted so that he landed directly on Carter’s lap. He tried to pull free, but by then Carter had a firm grip around Dean’s waist, the hand holding tight to his belt.
“Let me go,” Dean ordered in a low, tense voice.
Shaking his head, still silent, Carter leaned back on the sofa and brought Dean with him so that they were actually...Dean’s mind skittered around the word cuddled...seated together.
Carter picked up the water bottle and held it out with a quiet, “I dissolved some aspirin in it, but it’s drug free.”
Knowing it was a good idea didn’t make Dean any more grateful for the consideration, but he took it sullenly and drank it down. He refused to admit that his body immediately felt better for the hydration. The warm, damp cloth on the back of his neck took him by surprise and Dean stiffened again.
Carter’s hand released his belt and moved slowly up and down his back as he urged, “Relax, Dean. I’m okay. Couple broken ribs, a few bruises, but I’m fine. You got to me in plenty of time.”
It was something of a shock to be swallowing against a tight throat, that weasely little part of him that gave in too fast rising up with a vengeance. Clearing his throat, Dean said, “You’re a fucking idiot. You shouldn’t have gone in without a wire.”
“You got to me in plenty of time,” Carter repeated firmly. “I’m fine.”
Dean knew a lost battle when faced with one and slowly let himself sag against Carter. “I really hate you.”
Carter kissed his temple and answered agreeably, “I know.”
Dean relaxed against the other man completely then, knowing he was beat and not really wanting to fight anymore, anyhow. “Don’t do that again.”
“I’ll try not to,” Carter evaded, kissing him again. “Close your eyes, baby boy.”
Dean huffed out a sigh, determined not to fall asleep where he was, given Carter’s ribs, but closed them obediently. It was just easier at this point.
Carter’s fingers slid into Dean’s hair, the nails scratching lightly in a scalp massage as he said, “Go to sleep, Dean. We’ll sort the rest out tomorrow.”
Yawning against his will, Dean’s head lowered to Carter’s shoulder and he slowly, unwillingly, grew heavy with sleep. What else could he do? Carter always got what he wanted, especially when it came to Dean.
He refused to admit that it might be what Carter wanted, but also what Dean needed.
Fandom: Dark Blue
Pairing: Dean/Carter
Rating: R
Author: nancy
Email: the_tenth_muse1@yahoo.com
Spoilers: August
Series: maybe?
Warnings: D/s implied, daddy!fic implied, language
Summary: Dean needs a time out after Carter's kidnapping.
Notes: thanks to Free for the cheerleading!
It had just about eaten at Dean’s control to let Carter go off on his own in that harebrained kidnapping idea. Not that he had any choice, since Carter was the boss. He could’ve cheerfully strangled Ty and Carter both on finding out the plan and why. On the one hand, he agreed with Ty that Jaimie shouldn’t be exposed to that kind of risk. On the other hand, there was nothing to say the same couldn’t happen to Carter. Bastards like that didn’t always care about gender when it came to power trips.
Killing those fuckers who’d beaten Carter had felt damn good, even though he hadn’t known about the beating when he’d shot them. He’d assumed it, given their MO, but hadn’t known for sure. It was pure irony that while the line had gotten blurrier every time he went under, he hadn’t truly crossed it until he’d been wearing his badge.
“Need a lift home?” Ty asked.
Dean stiffened at the other man’s offer and he shook his head. “I’m good.”
Sitting beside him at the bar, Ty put a hand on his shoulder and countered, “You’ve been drinking hard for an hour steady, Dean. Let me drive you home.”
Dean jerked his shoulder away from him and snapped, “Fuck off, Ty, I don’t need help from you!”
Ty held up his hands and stood again. “Fine. I’ll just tell the bartender to hold onto your keys.”
“Stop trying to run my fuckin’ life,” Dean snarled, standing with a glare.
A strong hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed tight as Carter’s voice said from behind, “I’ve got him, Ty. Go on home.”
Ty gave Dean a sour look, but nodded at Carter. “Good luck, man. Glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks,” Carter replied easily. “And good work.”
Dean tried to shrug off Carter’s hand, too, but the other man wouldn’t allow it, tightening his grip until it as painful and he had to grit his teeth. He refused to make a sound.
“You under control now?” Carter questioned, almost casually.
Canting his head at the other man, Dean’s lip curled as he retorted, “As much as I ever am, boss.”
Carter tugged him in close and said softly, “Settle down now, boy, or you’re going to regret it.”
Part of Dean wanted to just melt into the other man and hold tight, to make sure that Carter hadn’t been seriously injured, even thought Dean knew that he hadn’t. That same part of him wanted to curl up on Carter’s lap and be held until they fell asleep. Like most times, though, the anger and need to lash out won over the small part of him that craved to be sheltered.
Jutting his chin out at Carter, Dean challenged, “Make me.”
Carter’s mouth slid a little sideways as he replied calmly, “That can be arranged. Get your ass in my car, boy.”
Head held high, Dean made sure to down his last Jack before walked almost steadily out of the bar. He knew Carter would be parked right out front; he always was when ‘rescuing’ Dean from alcohol. Most of the time it was before he was nearing pass-out stage, but sometimes not and Carter had learned to be cautious about it over the years.
The ride was completely silent. Even slightly drunk, Dean didn’t miss how stiffly Carter held himself. He had a couple of bruised ribs from the blows, which made him wonder just how the other man intended to punish him for being so insubordinate. It was different every time and always fit the crime, so to speak.
In Carter’s apartment, which was neater than his but not picture perfect by any stretch, Dean waited impatiently for things to get started. Carter ignored him, going into the kitchen and doing something in there for what seemed like forever. Dean toed off his sneakers and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair as he waited.
When Carter came back, it was with a bottle of water and a damp facecloth, which made Dean frown curiously and ask, “What’s that for?”
Carter didn’t answer. He sat on the sofa and set both items beside him before motioning Dean over.
Wary, Dean walked over and prompted angrily, “Well? What’s going on?”
Carter reached out to encircle Dean’s wrist with his hand, pulling him even closer and then tugging down. Frowning more, Dean slowly sat down and then stiffened when the other man shifted so that he landed directly on Carter’s lap. He tried to pull free, but by then Carter had a firm grip around Dean’s waist, the hand holding tight to his belt.
“Let me go,” Dean ordered in a low, tense voice.
Shaking his head, still silent, Carter leaned back on the sofa and brought Dean with him so that they were actually...Dean’s mind skittered around the word cuddled...seated together.
Carter picked up the water bottle and held it out with a quiet, “I dissolved some aspirin in it, but it’s drug free.”
Knowing it was a good idea didn’t make Dean any more grateful for the consideration, but he took it sullenly and drank it down. He refused to admit that his body immediately felt better for the hydration. The warm, damp cloth on the back of his neck took him by surprise and Dean stiffened again.
Carter’s hand released his belt and moved slowly up and down his back as he urged, “Relax, Dean. I’m okay. Couple broken ribs, a few bruises, but I’m fine. You got to me in plenty of time.”
It was something of a shock to be swallowing against a tight throat, that weasely little part of him that gave in too fast rising up with a vengeance. Clearing his throat, Dean said, “You’re a fucking idiot. You shouldn’t have gone in without a wire.”
“You got to me in plenty of time,” Carter repeated firmly. “I’m fine.”
Dean knew a lost battle when faced with one and slowly let himself sag against Carter. “I really hate you.”
Carter kissed his temple and answered agreeably, “I know.”
Dean relaxed against the other man completely then, knowing he was beat and not really wanting to fight anymore, anyhow. “Don’t do that again.”
“I’ll try not to,” Carter evaded, kissing him again. “Close your eyes, baby boy.”
Dean huffed out a sigh, determined not to fall asleep where he was, given Carter’s ribs, but closed them obediently. It was just easier at this point.
Carter’s fingers slid into Dean’s hair, the nails scratching lightly in a scalp massage as he said, “Go to sleep, Dean. We’ll sort the rest out tomorrow.”
Yawning against his will, Dean’s head lowered to Carter’s shoulder and he slowly, unwillingly, grew heavy with sleep. What else could he do? Carter always got what he wanted, especially when it came to Dean.
He refused to admit that it might be what Carter wanted, but also what Dean needed.