Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 84: Turning Point

[justinedelarge]

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 84: Turning Point
Author: justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest
Word Count:4100
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.
Summary: Dean deals with the aftermath of the day's events. Sam and Dean face off with John.
Master post of all chapters here

Inside the Sanctuary, Danny and Juliane lay asleep, naked under the heavy blankets, limbs tangled, breathing peacefully.

Bobby had finally fallen asleep, flat on his back, mouth open. Between the noise Sam and Dean had made and the great rattling snores pouring out of Bobby, Reggie had given up on sleep, and was propped up on one elbow, writing poetry in his notebook.

Alone in the wing of lightly warded, regular motel rooms, John lay on his back in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

~

Sam stirred, awoken by the fullness of his bladder and the warmth of the room from the heat still cranked to 80. He slipped out of bed quietly, as was his habit, not wanting to wake Dean. He padded down the hallway, turned the heat down to 68, and returned to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he wrapped Dean’s discarded clothes in a wet bath towel and carried it to the living room, so Dean wouldn’t step on them accidentally if he stumbled in half-asleep to urinate.

~

Dean awoke.

He reached out for Sam.

Sam wasn’t there.

Blind terror flared within him. “Sam?” He sat bolt upright in bed, sweat erupting from his skin, heart pounding. “Sam!!”

Sam was back inside the bedroom within seconds. “Dean? What’s wrong?” His eyes scanned the room for danger, intruders, a daddy longlegs, anything that might have scared Dean.

“You were gone.” Dean swallowed hard, running his hands through his hair. “Woke up and you weren’t there.” His breathing was shallow and rapid. A bead of sweat dripped down his chin.

“I’m sorry. I had to pee. I’m right here.” Sam sat on the bed and took Dean’s hand. His eyes widened. “Dean. You’re shaking.”

Dean leaned forward, clinging to Sam’s hand, breathing faster. He pressed his other hand to his chest. “My heart.” He gave Sam a panicked stare. “Beating too fast.” The panic exploded, and he began to hyperventilate, hands locking onto Sam’s shoulders.

“It’s ok. Dean. Just a panic attack.” He pulled Dean into his arms. “You’ve walked me through them a bunch of times. Right?” He stroked Dean’s hair, longer now than he had ever seen it before.

Dean whimpered, the sound of a frightened animal, trapped in a spiral of panic. Sam glanced around the room, desperately looking for something to jolt Dean out of the fear loop. He had no idea where Dean kept the peppermint oil Juliane had given him. He was absolutely not going to hit Dean to snap him out of it. But he needed something.

He tried kissing Dean, like Dean had done during Sam’s panic attacks to refocus him. Dean’s body was rigid, eyes clenched shut, and he kissed Sam back, but his heart kept pounding frighteningly fast. There was no way he was going to get Dean to breathe slowly with him, not with the panic so bright and strong.

“Sam.” Dean opened his eyes, utterly terrified at being so out of control. “Help.”

Sam wracked his brain, trying to think of something, some sensory input that would kick Dean out of his panic and get him to concentrate on his body, so the adrenaline would subside.

He gently pushed Dean onto his belly. “Lie down. Try to breathe normal.” He crawled onto the bed between Dean’s thighs and without preamble, licked a wet stripe over Dean’s hole.

Dean jolted, having completely not expected that.

Sam licked at Dean again, slow, soothing strokes of his tongue like a cat grooming a struggling kitten. He gave a soft sigh of satisfaction and settled in, lapping at Dean like he intended to do it for hours.

Dean gasped for breath. Sam stroked both hands over the curve of his lower back and down his ass. He kissed the soft flesh of one side, then the other, then parted his cheeks and brought his mouth back down. He sealed his lips over Dean’s hole, tongued him gently and lapped at him, great long strokes, infinitely patient.

Dean hiccoughed, and moaned.

Sam grabbed his pillow and shoved it underneath Dean’s hips, propping them up higher. “Just relax. I’m gonna be here a while.” He rimmed Dean nice and slow, every stroke of his tongue calm and loving. Dean’s fists, tangled in the sheets, loosened, his fingers spreading out. Slowly, his breathing slowed, his heart rate calmed.

Sam stroked Dean’s thighs with his fingers, and worshipped him with his tongue and mouth, never increasing the speed to something needy and frenetic. It wasn’t about stimulating his cock. It wasn’t about opening him up so Sam could fuck him. It was about the pure, sensuous pleasure of licking his hole, taking his own pleasure in it as much as giving it to Dean. It was about rooting Dean in the here and now, with Sam right there with him.

He spread Dean open with his thumbs, licked inside the pink opening unfurling to him, the skin texture changing from the strong, ridged outer sphincter to the delicate, silken flesh within, a miraculous thing that only he had ever known, that Dean had only ever given to him. His strong, wet tongue caressed the most intimate of places on Dean’s body, his lips pressed to him, moaning with the sheer joy of it sparking through him not from his cock in greedy anticipation, but from his fingertips, his tongue, his mouth, as though they had become erogenous zones, giddy with pleasure.

Dean’s spasm-tight muscles relaxed, his panic evaporating under the hypnotic strokes of Sam’s tongue. Sam licked his hole for a long, long time, listening to Dean’s breathy moans, reveling in how Dean yielded to him, tenseness draining away.

“You really love doing that, don’t you, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was hushed, almost disbelieving.

“Mmm,” Sam answered, dragging his tongue up once more, and again.

Dean spread his thighs wider, giving Sam complete access. He relaxed completely, not squirming and chasing an orgasm, but simply letting himself feel the pleasure of what Sam was doing. Licking and sucking at his very center, infusing him with pleasure and peace.

He groaned and stretched, like a cat. “Feels so good, Sammy,” he mumbled. His breathing slowed even more. Within a few seconds, Dean was fast asleep.

Sam pulled away, wiping his mouth off. He chuckled to himself quietly, then got into bed and pulled the blankets over them both. He was content to fall asleep on his back with his cock heavy and hard on his belly, enjoying the unmet need of it like a slow, sweet tease, knowing there was plenty of time later for all his needs to be met. He lay there in the dark, listening to Dean’s peaceful, slow breathing until he too fell asleep.

~

They slept in a long time, neither one of them ready to face the day. Not this day.

Dean smacked his lips and rolled over—or rather, he tried to. A groan of pain, and he tried again.

“Sam.”

Sam was fully awake in the space of a second, hearing the need in Dean’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

Dean gestured to his body. “Hurts.”

Sam sat up on his elbow. “Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Sam pulled the blankets down slowly, and cursed. Dean’s chest and side was nearly solid purple, badly bruised from being flung against the mirror. “Stay here a sec, ok?” Sam quickly pulled on his sweats and a clean sweatshirt and tugged on his sneakers without taking the time to put on socks, then quickly went into the wrecked kitchen. He came back with a glass of milk, two cheese sticks and the bottle of pain pills. He helped Dean sit up, propping him up on both pillows. The pain was sharp enough that beads of sweat appeared on his brow. Sam handed the cheese sticks to Dean. “These first.” Dean didn’t protest, knowing that taking the pills on an empty stomach was a bad idea. He swallowed two pain pills and drank the entire glass of milk.

Dean shivered, bare arms over the blankets. With infinite patience, Sam put Dean’s t-shirt back on, lifting his arms for him, and his thickest flannel. “You need to pee?”

“In a minute.” Dean lay still, eyes closed.

Sam started a pot of strong coffee and started a panful of bacon. He came back in and finished dressing Dean, then practically carried him to the bathroom.

“I got this.” Dean swayed on his feet, wincing at the strain standing upright placed on his core muscles.

“Hell you do.”

“What, you’re gonna hold my dick while I pee?”

Sam cocked his head. “You want me to?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No.”

“You sure? I will.

Dean chuffed. “I bet you would.”

“Shut up.” Sam came behind Dean, supporting him from behind, tugged his sweatpants and underwear down, and pulled out his cock. He cradled it in his right hand and aimed. “Go ahead.”

Dean closed his eyes, Sam’s hand warm on his soft cock, and let go. As the stream arced into the bowl, he laid his head back on Sam’s shoulder, suffused with an unexpected rush of love for Sam. Sam shook Dean’s cock, spattering the last few droplets into the toilet, dabbed the slit of his cock with a bit of toilet paper, and flushed, tucking Dean back into his clothes.

He walked Dean slowly into the living room and settled him on the couch, removing a shard of broken bowl from the seat cushion. He flipped the bacon over, and brought Dean a cup of coffee. “Lucky you didn’t break all the cups.” He proceeded to sweep the broken glass and pottery from the various surfaces on which they’d landed.

“I should be doing that.”

“No you shouldn’t.”

“I’m the one who did it. It’s—“

“Don’t say my fault. I shouldn’t have gone off without you.”

Dean held his coffee cup in both hands, a ghost of the pain of Sam’s absence still lingering on his face.

“Dean.”

Dean looked at Sam.

“I’ll never do that again.”

Dean blinked a few times.

“I’ll even wake you up at night when I have to get up to take a leak. Bring you with me, if you want.”

“You getting a pee kink, Sammy?” Dean tried to tease.

Sam smiled. “No. I’m not. I’m just saying.”

Dean took a sip of coffee. “That’s a damn fine cup of coffee.”

“No cherry pie, though. Sorry.”

“Damn.” Dean’s face got wistful and dreamy. “Pie.”

“You think they have Twin Peaks in the library?”

“Dude, totally. I saw it.”

“Tell you what. I’ll go out and get us some pie, and we can sit on the couch and marathon Twin Peaks—“

Dean’s expression stopped Sam cold.

“Shit. Dad.”

“Yeah. Dad.”

Sam set the bacon onto paper towels to drain. He quickly gathered up most of the broken shards from the living room, and brought Dean six slices of bacon wrapped in a clean paper towel. “Gotta buy more dishes, though. No plates survived.”

Dean’s mouth twitched. “Sorry.”

Sam joined Dean with a handful of bacon and a cup of coffee.

They ate slowly, in silence.

Sam gave Dean a mournful look.

“I know, Sammy. Me too.”

Sam stared into his coffee cup.

“Good news is we killed a knight of Hell.”

Sam nearly choked.

“Pretty awesome, huh?” Dean pushed weakly at Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Sam shook his head.

“Sam. It’s really over.” Dean put his hand on Sam’s thigh. “You’re pure. Blood is clean. Boss Demon’s dead. Like, dead dead. We did that.”

Sam swallowed hard, staring at Dean. “You did that.”

“We both—“

“You did that. You made me pure. You.” Sam’s eyes fluttered, his gaze dropping. “You…loving me.” He raised his eyes to Dean’s face. Dean was caught, mesmerized, by the wealth of love shining back at him.

“I was tainted, and you made me pure. You’re so—“

“Shh. Come here.” Dean tugged Sam into his arms, and kissed him, murmuring with pleasure at the taste of bacon on Sam’s lips. “Remember what that angel said. ‘Pure love.’ That goes both ways. It was us, Sam. Us. You and me.” He pushed Sam’s hair out of his face. “And no matter what Dad says or does, we know that. He tried all our lives to find that demon and kill it. And we did it. What we have. It was so right, Sam. So good. It killed a fucking demon. He can’t say a damn thing about us. Right?”

Sam blew out a long sigh. “Right.”

“And don’t forget. He’s got a shitload to answer for.”

Sam flinched, a small movement but one that was not lost on Dean.

“So, what do you say? Want to pull the band-aid off quick?”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

He took a deep swig of coffee, and went to the phone.

~

Sam persuaded Juliane to let John come into the common room of the Sanctuary, so they could meet with him there.

“You want us to stay?” She paced nervously. “We should stay.”

Dean shook his head no.

“This is… it’s a family thing.”

She frowned. “Ok. But you call me on my cell if things get the slightest bit ugly. And um…don’t break anything.”

Dean’s face fell, guilt dragging down his features.

She and Danny left them alone in the common room to wait for John, and went to tend to the survivors.

Sam fidgeted with his thumbs. Dean sat unmoving on the couch where Sam had settled him, still too sore to move much on his own.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door made them both jump.

Reggie and Bobby entered the room.

Bobby raised his hand, silencing their protests before they made them. “You think I’m gonna let you do this by yourselves, you don’t know me too well.” He settled into a chair.

“Me too,” Reggie chimed in. He eyed Dean. “How’re you feeling?”

“Pretty much one solid bruise, but I’ll be ok.”

“Sam taking good care of you?”

“You know it.” Dean’s face lightened as he gazed at Sam.

John walked into the room, boots heavy on the floor. His mouth tensed when he saw Reggie and Bobby.

“Have a seat.” Bobby indicated to the empty couch across from the one on which Sam and Dean sat.

John slumped down, rubbing his hand over his beard. He had huge dark circles under his eyes.

Bobby sighed. “You sleep at all?”

John shook his head no.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody spoke some more.

The silence stretched out, agonizingly uncomfortable.

“Hell of a thing, you two killing Azazel.” Reggie’s voice was a smooth drawl. “Why don’t we start with that?”

Sam gave Reggie a grateful look.

“Nobody but you two could have done that. With your bond. The love you have for each other.” Reggie enunciated clearly. “Those knives were made for soul mates, and you made them even more than that. Because you’re even more than that. And there’s not a damn soul in this room that can say that this thing between you isn’t real and true and pure love.” Reggie fixed John with his piercing blue eyes. “Right?”

John’s eyes traveled to Sam and Dean like it was agony to do so. “Right.”

Sam made a soft sob. Dean stared in disbelief.

“You’re not going to try to take me away from Dean?” Sam asked quietly.

“I was going to. I was damn well going to. But then…everything happened. And I saw. You two have... this thing… I don’t understand how it’s possible, but somehow, it’s right.”

“John. You mean that?” Bobby leaned forward.

John picked at a loose thread on the bottom of his jacket. “I saw what happened. Same as you.” His face was ashen. “Sam’s blood, purified. Because of this thing with Dean...” He stopped, unable to continue. Unable to say the words. “Saw how this…thing between them killed Azazel.” His eyes darted to Sam and Dean, skittered off again like he was afraid of them. “Killed him. The second most powerful demon—” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was up all night. Going over everything. I know this thing between you…”—he waved his hand—“is love. Somehow, it’s actual love. Not molestation.” Dean closed his eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotion those words released. “But I don’t understand. Jesus, you’re brothers. I don’t—“

“Don’t understand? Like how we don’t understand how you could have another son?” Dean’s voice came low and steady, with a steely undercurrent. “A secret family?” His mouth contorted. “How about you explain that to us?”

“You leave them out of this.” John’s cheeks flushed with anger.

“Isn’t that the point? Dad?” Dean emphasized the word. “Leaving them out of it? Hunting? Monsters? Demons? You getting to pretend you’re, what, normal? A great father?”

“Dean,” Sam began, putting his hand on Dean’s arm.

“No. It’s killing you too. I can see it in you, Sam. I know it. Him leaving us, all those times. ‘Here’s twenty bucks. I’ll be back in two days.’ And three weeks later, we’re eating crackers and ketchup, and he’s still not back.” Dean’s eyes blazed. “Leaving us with nothing. Leaving us to… just get by. Do whatever we had to.” John flinched. “Right? Dad? And half the time, he was off with his other family, trimming the fucking Christmas tree.”

John’s hands shook. “It wasn’t like that, I didn’t mean, I never meant to hurt you…”

“But you did, John!” Dean’s anger was incandescent. “You did!” His mouth trembled. “Why? Why weren’t we good enough? Why’d you have to go make some new kid?” He wiped his hand over his mouth. “Didn’t we do everything you told us to? Learn how to field strip a weapon in seconds. How to take out a Wendigo. Saving people. Hunting things. Didn’t we do everything you wanted?” He fought to maintain composure, his voice cracking. “Didn’t I do everything you wanted me to do?”

A fat tear ran slowly down John’s face. “You did. You both did. It’s not that.”

“Then explain it to me!” Dean rose to his feet, his face bright red. “How could you give this new kid the best you had, and we got the drill sergeant that was gone half the time?”

John looked up at Dean. “How could you fall in love with your own brother?”

All the air left Dean’s lungs. Sam looked like John had just struck him across the face.

“Because you did.” John’s voice was gentle. “It’s not what was supposed to happen, and just about no one would understand, but it’s what happened. And you can’t change it. Right?”

In unison, Sam and Dean nodded.

“You can’t make it un-happen. So you do the best you can to get by.”

“Why didn’t you tell him about us?” Sam asked.

“This life?” John gestured between himself and the boys. “This hunting life? It’s horrible. It’s ugly and hard and full of things most people should never have to know about. I saw what it did to you. That innocence, gone. I wasn’t going to let that happen to Adam.”

Sam’s face contorted. “No. You’re right.” He nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks. “That’s what we do all this for, right, Dean? So innocent people can sleep in their beds at night, and not know the monster in the closet is real.”

John closed his eyes, the unexpected grace of his son’s understanding washing over him.

“Maybe now that it’s all over… we can meet him. He can get to know us.” Sam’s face was hopeful.

John walked toward the fireplace, put his hand on the mantle, leaning forward like he’d been punched in the gut. When he turned to face Sam, his eyes were wet. “It’s not over, Sam. It’ll never be over.”

“What are you talking about?” Reggie asked.

“Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.” John snapped at Reggie. “You think it’s over just because Azazel is gone? Sooner or later, a new demon’s going to take over. They’re going to groom another one of their Boy Kings. Whatever they had planned for you, Sam, sooner or later, they’re going to try with someone else.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean spat.

“I know how things work, Dean. How evil works. It never sleeps. And you two? You’re hunters. You can’t ever let that go. Not now. What, you’re gonna finish school and get real jobs?” He shook his head. “Once a hunter, always a hunter. And I won’t have Adam in this life. I won’t let it touch him.”

“What about us?”

“I did my best with you. And… I failed. In so many ways. I’m not going to fail him too.”

“You already have. He barely sees you. What, you made it there a few times a year? He’s grown up without you, more or less. Sure, you show up and teach him how to play baseball—” Dean’s mouth shook, on the verge of ugly tears. “But he’s going to have even less of you growing up than we did.”

“You’re right. He did grow up without me. But he won’t have to anymore.”

Dean’s mouth fell open. Sam stared, dumbfounded.

“John.” Bobby’s voice was a warning.

“They have each other now. I can’t understand why. I can’t condone it.”

“But you saw.” Reggie stepped forward, animated by anger and disbelief. “You saw with your own eyes. John, their love saved the fucking world.”

“I know that! But you can’t ask me to live with it. You can’t ask me to live with them and accept it and just… accept it!” John’s voice was rough with anguish. He turned to Sam and Dean. “I love you boys more than anything.”

“More than Adam?” Dean could not help himself.

“Yes!” John bellowed. “More than Adam. More than Adam and his mother and that normal, apple pie life.” John reached out to touch Dean, and then yanked his hand back. “But I can’t. Dean. Sam.” His eyes searched the faces of each one in turn. “You can’t possibly ask that of me. No one could ask that of any father. ” His chest hitched as a sob escaped him. “I changed your diapers. I gave you baths together. I can’t even look at you now without picturing you…” He squeezed his eyes shut, his gorge rising, and slammed his fist down on the mantle. “Jesus. It’s inhumane to ask that of me.”

Sam stood up, took Dean’s hand, and said in a small voice, “You’re going to abandon us?”

John flinched, but did not turn around. “Are you two going to stop?”

As one, Sam and Dean said, “Never.”

John bowed his head, tears pattering onto the carpet. “Bobby. I need you to take care of them.”

“I don’t need your permission.” Bobby glared at John. “You do this? It’s forever.”

“You’re leaving us? To go live with them?” Tears streaked down Sam’s face. “But Dad… I’m not even seventeen yet.”

“You may not be seventeen, but you’re damn well a man.” John took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, beaming at him through his own tears. “You’re more of a man than I’ll ever be. More of a hunter, too. I’m so—” His voice cracked. “So proud of you.” He looked at Dean, drinking in the sight like it was the last image he’d ever have of his eldest son. “Both of you.” He reached for Dean, but Dean recoiled, helpless anger pulling down the corners of his mouth. “You deserve a better father than me. You always have.” He glanced over at Bobby. “I should have let you have them years ago.”

“Dad,” Sam cried out. “Don’t.” Dean resolutely refused to cry.

“John. You do this, you can’t undo it.” Bobby struggled to his feet.

John clapped his hand on Bobby’s arm. “You know this is the best thing for them. You know it.” Bobby blinked, and nodded in resignation. Reggie turned away from John and spat on the floor.

John turned to face his sons. “You won’t believe me. But I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” He smiled again through his tears. “You take care of each other.”

And with that, John Winchester walked out the door.

~

Bobby limped toward Sam and wrapped him in a fierce hug. “It’s alright, boy. I got you.” He reached out for Dean. “Got both of you.” Dean let Bobby bring him close, and Dean stroked Sam’s back as he sobbed against Bobby’s chest. Over Bobby’s shoulder, he exchanged glances with Reggie. In that moment, fierce protectiveness in their gaze with the very real promise of violence, Dean looked more like Reggie Beaumont than he ever resembled John.