
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/477882.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-07-21 Words: 2076
****** Baby's On Fire ******
by spiders_stars
Summary
     It was pretty simple. Sam wanted his brother to fuck him and he’d
     take it however he could.
Sam was eight years old and he wanted his big brother to fuck him. It was more
than that though. Ever since he saw Dean jacking off in that motel back in
Toledo, with the walls that looked like the sky and the beds that felt like
rocks, it was all he could think about. Like everything else Dean’s dick was
bigger than Sam’s and it was so hard and swollen under his brother’s hand. Each
time he slid his fingers over the length of it Sam could just barely see it
twitch and it was that more than the girls making out on the TV that had him
transfixed.
Not too long after they’d been in Indiana and left alone in another motel room
while their dad went out to do whatever it was Sam and Dean couldn’t be
included in. Sam had curled on the bed, pretending to be asleep because he knew
what would happen next. Just like he’d expected less than ten minutes later the
TV was making moany noises and Sam could hear the rustle of clothing and the
squeak of bed springs.
Sam waited until he heard soft grunts before rolling over as slow as he could
to peek out from under his lashes and peer over at his brother. He could only
see his back though so he had to move and that sucked ‘cause Dean was totally
going to catch him and beat him up for being a perv.
It didn’t happen though.
Sure Dean caught him staring but he only patted the bed beside him with his
free hand and invited Sam over. Sam’s dick got pretty hard in his Batman
underwear before he’d even settled onto the bed by his brother.
Everything had grown from there. The first time they kissed and the first time
Dean let Sam stroke his swollen dick like it was a prize he won at a state
fair. Sam savored every single time he got to touch and when Dean touched back.
Or the times Dean would crawl under the blankets and suck his whole dick in,
even his balls too, licking over and over with his tongue until Sam was a
writhing mess on the bed.
All of that was really amazing, don’t get Sam wrong, but he wanted Dean to fuck
him. Ever since they saw that porn in Muncie with those two guys and Dean
explained exactly what it was. They’d gotten kind of close. One time Dean
slipped a finger into his hole after spending nearly twenty minutes licking at
the area and poking just inside with his tongue. Sam had shuddered and twisted
and tried to get more but his body had stuttered through its pre-puberty form
of release before Dean could add anything.
Dean kept saying he was too big and Sam was too small and there were just a few
boundaries left in their relationship and for some stupid reason Dean wouldn’t
cross them. It didn’t matter if Sam was sitting in his lap with his pants down
rolling his little body forward eagerly and begging for it. Dean wouldn’t budge
on his rule.
Which led them here; laying face to face under the blankets while their lips
slid together and they struggled to stay quiet. Dad was asleep in the other bed
in the room, low grumbling snores covering the soft whimper moans falling from
Sam’s mouth as Dean’s fingers pushed down under his balls and rubbed along his
entrance.
“Come on Dean,” Sam whispered, tiny fingers clutching to Dean’s arms. “Please.
Please.”
“Can’t Sammy. But- hold on.” The bed shifted as Dean rolled away and silently
tiptoed across the room. In the catch of moonlight spilling in from the blinds
Sam could see Dean’s briefs tenting out around his dick and it kind of made Sam
dizzy. He really liked that he could make his big brother feel like that
because usually only stolen porn on motel TV’s did that.
Sam closed his eyes for just a moment and shifted until he could get his hand
down his briefs, curling his fingers around his too sensitive dick. He really
wanted Dean to suck him all up again if he wasn’t going to fuck him. Hell
though at this point Sam just wanted his big brother back in bed.
As if he’d thought the request loud enough for Dean to hear, the bed dipped
behind Sam and there was the brief whoosh of cool air as the blanket was lifted
before it all closed in around them again. Dean slid up to Sam’s back and Sam
almost rolled over but fingers on his ass had him stopping.
“Stay right here little brother,” Dean whispered, the words little puffs of hot
air against Sam’s ear that made him shiver. “Gonna make you feel real good.”
When Sam opened his eyes he could see their dad through the moonlight, chest
rising and falling with each snore as he slept on unaware. It made Sam’s
stomach turn in this weird dipping way like the one he felt when they’d gone on
that one roller coaster last spring. Dean’s hand was picking at his underwear
now, pulling at the elastic and forcing him to move until Sam could feel the
starch scratch of motel sheets on his hip.
Fingers dipped along his crack and Sam’s leg lifted on instinct, foot planting
hard into the bed so his knee was bent and Dean could access every inch of him.
At the first touch of a cool slick finger Sam bit his lip so hard it almost
broke the skin, forcing the moan back down his throat, forcing himself not to
squirm back.
One finger in and he already wanted more. It didn’t even burn, not really, or
not in any way Sam couldn’t handle because he was a big boy and he wanted this.
“Dean,” he pleaded in a tight gasp, craning his head back as far as it could go
so he could catch the dark look he knew would be in his brother’s eyes.
“Shh Sammy. M’gonna take care of you.” Dean’s voice was so deep and soothing
and Sam relaxed a little because he trusted his big brother to do what he said.
In this case he was going to do something that was going to be really good. Sam
knew it.
This time Dean didn’t touch his dick and that was probably better because Sam
didn’t feel like he was about jerk off the bed completely. Instead he was
rocking back and biting his lip harder as another finger slid up inside him.
This time it did burn, kind of a lot, but he held back the whimper just like he
held back the moan. Just the tiniest little squeak left his lips and on the bed
across the room their dad grunted in his sleep and rolled over.
“Got somethin’ for you baby,” Dean sucked on his shoulder where he could leave
a bruise and it would stay covered. Sam liked when Dean left bruises on him.
“Gotta stay quiet though. Can’t let dad hear you.”
Sam already knew that dad hearing would be really bad. He wasn’t stupid. And he
was going to tell Dean exactly that but then the fingers in his ass pushed
harder up and Sam had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from making any
noise at all. Sam was pretty sure he could feel every little part of Dean’s
fingers, the tips of his bit off nails and the bumps of his knuckles. They were
pulling Sam apart and he felt a little like he might go insane with just how
good it felt.
Until the fingers were gone and Sam’s eyes were blinking open once more, body
twisting to find his brother’s gaze. He thought maybe Dean was going to fuck
him. Sam could feel his hard dick when he turned and he was right there.
“Dean?” He just barely breathed the name, tiny little shoulders shaking under
the too scratchy sheet.
“Relax baby brother, just relax.” Dean stroked fingers over Sam’s ass but they
weren’t sticky and slick, those fingers were doing something Sam couldn’t see.
A moment later he felt it though, something blunt and round at his puckered
hole. Sam’s eyes grew wide but he was on his side again, staring at his dad in
the other bed and trying not to make a peep. “Dean?” He whispered again this
time with just the slightest hint of nervousness. There was no heat from
whatever the thing was that Dean had, it was cold and round and a lot bigger
than Dean’s two fingers.
It was solid and unforgiving pushing into Sam, stretching him too wide and it
hurt but Sam’s hips pushed back against it anyway. His heart was pounding so
hard in his chest he laid a hand over it to try and make it quieter because
their dad was for sure going to hear that. And the thing Dean had just kept
getting deeper and deeper into him, every time Sam thought he couldn’t take any
more Dean would stroke his back and tell him to relax and it’d go in another
inch.
“Feel good Sammy?” Dean asked against his ear, his hips rocking forward until
Sam could feel his dick through his underwear along his ass. It was really
close to Dean fucking him so Sam could imagine it was him.
“Uh huh.” Sam kind of shook with his response and twitched his hips back
against the thing in his ass. It was warm now, still splitting him open and
when Dean pulled it back Sam felt too wide open and empty. “Wha- what is it?”
Sam gasped out the question, struggling to keep his eyes fixed on their dad so
he could see him move. Just in case.
“Dad’s hairbrush.” Dean muttered, the hint of amusement there in the words.
That was really, really dirty. It was so wrong. Their dad’s hairbrush sliding
in Sam’s ass and all he could do was roll his hips back for more. Deeper and
harder as his brother began to thrust the brush forward. “Dean,” Sam gasped and
hissed his big brother’s name. There were little grooves on the top of the
handle that caught on Sam’s entrance every time Dean shoved up. It never failed
to make him shudder.
Then Dean started twisting the brush and it drove further up and up and Sam’s
body was writhing and twisting until Dean’s arm came around his chest and
forced him to hold still. Sam’s world was reduced to the solid handle moving in
and out of him hard and the rush of air leaving his brother’s lips and soaking
into his neck. It made Sam’s skin tickle in a really good way. Sharp burst of
pleasure had him wiggling back against his brother’s dick and onto the brush
but it wasn’t enough, never enough.
Sam saw stars, pretty little flashes of lights that went away and turned into
darkness. Then Dean was making a strangle noise in his throat and Sam could
feel the wet of his big brother’s underwear against his skin. He was shaking,
twitching really, trying to breathe without making any noise at all.
When Dean pulled the hairbrush away and left the bed Sam felt all kinds of
empty. It was too much really, made him feel eight years old all again when
most of the time he felt so much older. It was enough Sam was squirming around
to get his underwear back up and curling into a ball under the sheets while his
body still shook. Like being empty was too much for him.
Then Dean was back again, curling around him in clean clothes and holding him
close. Sam closed his eyes when he felt lips on his shoulder and smiled softly.
“Next time you fuck me,” Sam whispered with his eyes still closed, Dean’s quiet
laugh shaking them both.
“Yeah Sammy, next time.”
Sam wasn’t sure it was true or not but he was holding his brother to it.
In the morning Sam woke up just in time to see his dad walk from the bathroom
out to the front room sliding the brush through his shower damp hair. His eyes
got wide and he blinked over to catch Dean’s red cheeks. They both had to look
away to keep from laughing.
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the other hand, Dean knew he would be
able to hear every sound. He wasn't a voyeur, not really. He'd rather get his
own kicks than get himself off listen to someone else get their kicks, but
there was something hot about Dean knowing that Castiel knew he could hear
everything.
Like he didn't care that Dean could hear, or better yet, that he was putting on
a show.
At first, Dean might have suspected the latter, but figuring Castiel hadn't
really tried to talk to him outside basic pleasantries since their official
meeting, Dean was sure it was really the former.
Either way, if Castiel didn't care if he was broadcasting, it's not exactly
like he could get mad at Dean for enjoying the program, right?
Anyway, just as the laughing was dying down – Dean could imagine it like a
movie in his head, the guy moving in to kiss Castiel for the first time – a
door slammed open. It was so loud that Dean was sure it was Sam bursting into
his room, but when he looked, his door was still shut.
Suddenly, three voices were yelling on the other side of the wall.
In the development, it wasn't weird to hear screaming – blood curdling, dying
screams – but Dean felt goosebumps rise on his skin at the sound of it.
Castiel's brother was shouting something, and the younger brother was screaming
right back. The other boy stopped yelling, and Dean ran to his window.
The dude was climbing down the wall as best he could.
The yelling got quieter, further into the apartment, and Dean found himself
running down the hall and down his own steps. Sam was already standing outside
on the stoop, watching as Castiel's brother waved a baseball bat in the air,
yelling at the boy running away. Castiel was standing behind his brother, far
enough away to avoid the bat if he swung, yelling at him.
At first, Sam looked concerned, but when the elder Novak turned back to Castiel
and the pair started screaming at each other, the rest of the neighbors in the
complex started rolling their eyes and walking away. Dean turned to Sam and was
surprised to see his younger brother was a bit red, but smiling nonetheless.
"What?" Dean asked, and Sam's smile turned into a grin.
"Michał said, 'I don't want that scumbag motherfucker hanging out my little
brother,'" Sam translated. The brothers started storming back toward their own
apartment, and Dean knew Castiel was objecting. Sam continued translating. "He
said, 'I don't want any scaly motherfuckers from this hood getting fresh with
my little brother. They just got one thing on their minds, you hear me? One
thing!'"
The younger Novak broke free, slamming the door in his brother's face. Dean
didn't need a translation for the boy's angry, "Whatever!"
Despite himself, Dean found himself grinning as he watched Castiel's brother
try the door handle and realize it was locked. The brothers continued yelling
until eventually, the elder Novak ended up climbing in through the open front
window.
"Wait," Dean said. "What's Cas' brother's name? Me-haw?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Michał. It's like Michael."
"How do you even know that?" Dean asked. "What, you suddenly speak whatever
that is?"
"You're so ignorant and embarrassing," Sam hissed. "We've been living here for
months. How haven't you picked it up? Or at least more of it than just the
swear words?"
"I…" Dean started, but Sam stormed off in an annoyed huff, and for a moment,
Dean was sure Sam was going to lock him out of their apartment too. Luckily,
when he reached the door, he was pleased to find it turned. When he walked into
the empty hallway – the Winchesters only had beds and the kitchen table and
chairs that came with the place – he made sure all the doors and windows were
locked.
He wasn't too worried about ghosts or rugarus or anything like that getting in,
but people were another thing.
When Dean got upstairs to his room, he found his window open. He could smell
the smoke from the next door window, and without thinking about it, he leaned
forward, turning his head to look at Castiel. The other boy looked at him
blankly for a second, before looking away again.
Somehow, Dean felt like he was somehow to blame.
"Hey," Dean said, feeling the window dig into his stomacah as he leaned out.
"Mee-haw's a bitch."
Castiel snorted, choking on the smoke for a couple of breaths. "Michał?" The
boy laughed. "You can call him Mike, you know. Everyone does."
"Like they call you Cas?" Dean asked.
"Guess mine doesn't translate all nice and American like that. I tried telling
everyone my name was Jimmy but Maja down the street told everyone the truth,"
Castiel took a deep breath in, then held it out, passing it to Dean. For a
brief moment, he thought about accepting things from guys named Don, but
Castiel's name wasn't Don, and it wasn't like he didn't know where it came
from. Michał grew it in his room. "The closest translation to Jimmy would be
Jakub. I blew a Jakub, once. He was a wrestler."
"Oh," Dean asked, his face red. "You wrestled?"
"Nie," Castiel shook his head. "I would have liked to roll around with him for
a bit, but Mike put a stop to that pretty damn fast."
Dean took a puff and passed it back. Their windows were ridiculously close
together. With both of their arms stretched out, their fingers could brush
together. Dean had been with guys before, sure, but none of them had ever
really been as candid as Castiel. They'd always been mostly embarrassed
teenagers, rutting around quickly and desperately. The boys he'd been with were
nothing like the girls he usually went for, and nobody he had ever been with
was like Castiel.
"It's not like you can get pregnant, right?" Dean asked. "Why does he care who
you have sex with?"
Castiel looked at Dean like he had grown another head, like Dean didn't know
the risks involved with any sexual encounter, like he hadn't met an older guy
in an alley before and known exactly what he wanted. But Dean did – he knew –
and he frowned and looked away.
"So he's worried about you. Better than having him leave for months at a time,
not caring what you do."
"I suppose," Castiel said, flicking the butt into the street. Normally, in any
other city, Dean would have worried about leaving stuff like that outside his
apartment, but if he looked far enough down the street, he could see the house
that a meth lab in it. The cops wouldn't care about them. "It's still annoying.
Sometimes, you just want something filling you up, you know?"
Dean turned to look at Castiel. The boy was grinning at him again; the look was
easy on his face. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
"Oh," Castiel said. "Or you filling something else up. Trust me, I'm not
picky."
"I… uh… Are you…?"
Castiel laughed, throwing an obvious wink at Dean between their separate
windows. "You're right. No need to have Mike threaten anyone else tonight. It
requires a brave sort of man to try and sneak into my room with my brother
home."
"I… uh…"
"Hopefully, he will actually leave the house sometime," Castiel continued. Dean
wasn't sure if the other boy could tell how completely speechless this turn in
the conversation made him, or if he could tell and didn't care. Dean kept
opening and shutting his mouth like a fish, but Castiel kept smiling at him.
"Well, then. I guess it will be a rain check? I hope you sleep well tonight,
Dean. Sweet dreams."
Castiel had disappeared back into his room, shutting the window behind him,
before Dean had even fully processed the last bit of their conversation. A rain
check? Oh, God. That had to mean what Dean thought it meant, right?
Eventually, Dean pulled his body back into his room and shut the window. He lay
in bed for an hour, completely sure that he was not going to get any sleep. Ten
minutes later, he realized he definitely wasn't going to get any sleep when he
heard Castiel's breathy moans. It was even worse this time – the boy was way
more vocal – going so far as to murmur what he was doing to himself through the
thin walls.
Dean could barely understand half the words, but he understood the ones that
mattered. Castiel's accent was thicker as he whispered, "Going to use a
finger," and "Pushing it in now," and of course, "Ah, Dean."
The elder Winchester came way before Castiel did, and he still didn't get any
sleep.
===============================================================================
Dean was well aware that he had a problem, but now he could at least name it:
Michał.
Mike did nothing to leave the house. He was out of school – in his early
twenties, Dean thought – but he didn't seem to have a job outside the small
farm growing in his bedroom. There were many things the man enjoyed doing for
fun, like walking around without a shirt on with three girls surrounding him,
or blaring music from his bedroom while girls danced around topless, or having
girls wrestle each other in a blow-up pool of KY Jelly in their complex's sad
excuse for a shared backyard.
Dean was sure he had a lot of sex with these girls, too, but he hadn't actually
witnessed that.
Actually, he hadn't witnessed the girls topless dancing himself either, but
when he and Castiel leaned out of their windows to pass a spliff back and
forth, the other boy swore that he had walked in on topless dancing.
Unfortunately, there wasn't any activity that Mike really enjoyed that involved
leaving the house. Dean was well aware that he wasn't the only one getting
impatient.
There was no pleasing Castiel, and even with the idea of a rain check hanging
over their heads, Dean caught his neighbor talking to a handful of different
guys at school. The guys weren't terrible picks, but none of them were in
Castiel's league. They all tried to impress him by talking about their bikes
(both bicycles and dirt bikes, nobody in their development could afford an
actual motorcycle), and Dean always managed to catch Castiel and some guy
pressed nearly chest to chest, murmuring together in the language Dean didn't
understand.
And Dean totally understood. Sex was awesome. It wasn't like he and Castiel
were in a committed relationship or anything, and people have needs. All Dean
could do was try his best not to look like a kicked puppy while Castiel chatted
up the scaly douchebag from down the street.
He didn't realize that Castiel was doing it on purpose until about a week
later.
There was no way Dean could actually see into Castiel's room from his room –
unless he drilled a hole into the wall, which he absolutely did not and would
not do – but he was pretty damn sure he knew what was going on in there most of
the time.
On one hand, most of his activities were pretty obvious. Dean constantly heard
Castiel repeating the lines to TV shows, and he hadn't realized it at first,
but he was trying to mimic the American accents. Dean could also tell when
Castiel was fingering himself or just jacking off based on the sounds the other
boy made.
On the other hand, if an activity was not obvious, Castiel had a tendency to
announce it. Once or twice, Castiel had knocked on the wall separating their
rooms and said, "I'm about to do a cardio DVD so if I pass out and die, you'll
have to come resuscitate me with mouth-to-mouth." Dean, of course, knew he was
being teased. Castiel enjoyed running and the last time he came back from a run
– sweaty and shirtless – Dean needed to lock himself in the bathroom, showering
until the water ran cold.
This time, Dean heard Castiel and another male voice in his room. As always,
jealously flared; however, that was somewhat quickly abated when Dean heard
Castiel say, "I'm taking off my shirt."
Dean was sitting on his bed, reading a book, but he stilled at the sound of his
neighbor's voice. The other man answered in his native language – he might not
even speak much English, so he might have been curious as to what Castiel said
– but Dean heard the dark-haired teen shush him.
"He's lying back on the bed. I'm straddling his hips, and I'm shirtless."
The guy Castiel was with made another confused sound, but with a murmur – some
words Dean couldn't understand or hear anyway – he fell quiet. For a few
seconds, Dean was left with nothing but the pounding of his chest. Castiel was
over in his room right now on top of a guy. But he was saying everything aloud,
in English, and there was only one reason why he would do that.
"He isn't nearly as cute as you," Castiel said, and Dean could hear the lust in
his voice. "I'm grinding against him, and I can feel his dick getting hard, but
it isn't yours. I wish it were yours."
Dean looked at his own door. It was unlocked, but Sam was at school. Even if he
wasn't, his little brother didn't usually come barging in on him. Thank God Sam
was a good student and actually went to school, Dean thought as he unbuttoned
and unzipped his jeans.
He barely pushed his jeans down his hips and put a hand on himself when there
was a loud crash from next door, again. As if Dean were the boy in the room, he
quickly jumped up, trying to stuff himself back in his pants and look
respectable, look as if he hadn't been doing anything. But Mike didn't see him;
all Mike saw was the guy under his little brother.
There wasn't any yelling this time, apart from one terrified shout from
Castiel: "Michał, the sword?"
Dean was still buttoning his pants as he ran down the stairs. When he finally
got out of the apartment, everything was back in order, and he moved to stand
next to Castiel as Mike ran after the boy on his bicycle, chasing him down the
street with a sword.
"That sucks," Castiel frowned, crossing his arms in front of him. "It's one
thing to chase a suitor off with a bat, but using a sword? That's a little
uncalled for."
"A suitor?" Dean asked, bumping his shoulder against his neighbor's.
Castiel grinned, "Suitor is a nicer word than the boy I was going to ride while
pretending it was you, isn't it? Is there a better word for that in English?"
"Suitor is… yes, Cas. It's a nicer word for that," Dean said, watching as Mike
gave up chasing after the kid halfway down the street. He was stomping back
toward them, looking bizarre wearing nothing but a Speedo and carrying a sword
down the street. "You know… Sam's still at school. He will be for hours. We
could just go over to my house."
"Where's the fun in that?" Castiel asked.
"Well, my dick wouldn't get chopped off by your crazy, sword-wielding brother,
for one."
"Yeah, but don't you want to see where he'll go next? I think it'll be a gun,"
Castiel said. Dean opened his mouth to respond – oh, God, he was going to die
trying to have sex with his neighbor – but Mike had caught back up to them. He
started yelling at Castiel, but the younger Novak just rolled his eyes and
followed his brother inside without a fight.
===============================================================================
After Mike threatened Castiel's latest fling with a sword, a strange thing
started happening. Namely, Mike started talking to Dean. It was mostly Sam's
fault.
Being an eighth grader, Sam had to take home economics. Dean had always done
the bulk of the cooking for the two of them – to be completely honest, he loved
cooking – but Sam was desperate to learn. After setting a very minor fire in
the school, he was told he needed to practice at home, and Dean would have been
more than happy to help teach him if they weren't living on cereal, canned
goods, and whatever he could occasionally swipe from the store.
They'd been living in the same place for months without hearing from their dad.
Money had long since run out.
It had been Sam – or maybe Castiel – who suggested Dean teach Sam over in the
Novak lot. Neither Mike nor Castiel could cook, so the younger Novak figured
that whatever Sam managed to burn would be a step up from Ramen. They had the
money, a stove, and pots and pans, so Dean couldn't exactly say no.
To be honest, when Mike first walked into the kitchen from his bedroom, Dean
expected to be threatened instantly. Any guy even remotely Castiel's age was
chased on sight, even if he was only looking at the younger Novak, but Mike
walked up, standing uncomfortably close to Dean while he looked into the pot
Sam was stirring.
"Was this?" Mike asked. "Was he making?"
It took Dean a second to beat through the accent to understand the question.
"Uh… Spaghetti. It's, you know, easy. And I didn't want him to burn your house
down."
Mike looked from Sam to Castiel – who was sitting at the kitchen table doing
his homework – then looked back to Dean. "You live beside us?"
"Uh, yeah. Next door."
"American?"
"Uh-huh," Dean said. Mike glared at him a second, and Dean's eyes moved past
the older boy to look at the sword hanging on the wall. He swallowed and looked
back at Mike. "I mean, yes, sir."
Castiel started laughing, dropping his head to the kitchen table to hide his
snickers, but even Mike's handsome face twisted into a grin. "'Yes, sir,' says
the American," he repeated, wrapping his arm around Dean and turning him to
face Castiel. "Look at the respect, look at the manners, you learn a lot from
him, yes?"
"You want me to hang out with the American more?" Castiel asked, still
laughing. "Listen to me. I am American. You hear this? I'll be a movie star
with this accent."
"Yes, you will be a – how they say – Bond villain."
"James Bond is British, idiot," Castiel said, rolling his eyes. Mike dismissed
the complaint, and Dean tried to relax with the arm around him. It was kind of
hard; after all, he'd seen this guy chase a man down with a sword for grinding
against his brother. "And you are scaring the American."
Mike made some dismissive comment in the other language, but he removed his arm
from Dean. "American is not scared of me. Why he be scared of me?"
"Because you're crazy," Castiel said. "And his name is Dean."
"Dean is a good name. American name. Like James Dean, yes?" Mike said, turning
his attention away from the elder boys. He moved toward Sam, talking in the
other language to the youngest boy. Sam was sloppy and slow with the language,
but Mike seemed to enjoy teaching him. Probably because he never had to worry
about Sam bringing scaly motherfuckers home.
"Like James Dean," Castiel repeated, looking up at the elder Winchester. He
winked, and then settled back down to do his homework. Even with Mike in the
room – and the threat he presented – Dean wasn't too afraid to sit next to him
and work on their math together.
===============================================================================
It wasn't exactly uncommon for the two Novaks and the two Winchesters to hang
out, even after Sam passed the cooking portion of home economics and moved on
to sewing. Everyone had missed actual meals from their childhood, and with
funds, Dean was able to make quite a few decent meals. Occasionally, Mike would
request something from the motherland, but they enjoyed Dean's burgers and
fries all the same.
At night, when Mike's girls came over to giggle in his bedroom and Sam went
back over to their apartment to go to sleep, Castiel and Dean would sit out
front and have a smoke. Despite the good nature between Mike and Dean, the
elder Winchester didn't want to press his luck, especially once he caught sight
of the gun sticking in the front of the man's waistband.
("You're going to blow your dick off," Castiel had yelled. "You don't even need
a fucking gun. Just get rid of it."
"Oy, mind your fucking business, Castiel," Mike had yelled back.)
Castiel had never invited Dean back up to his room, anyway. As the weeks
dragged on and turned into a month, Dean was starting to think that Castiel was
losing interest in him. They were spending a lot of time together, sure – and
okay, Castiel wasn't hitting on any guy that moved anymore either – but their
relationship had seemed to take a platonic turn.
Before, they would be separated by a wall, but it was fairly obvious that both
of them were masturbating, thinking about the other. Now, Castiel was silent in
his room and when he wasn't, it was always innocent stuff: the TV, his music,
not the sounds that Dean wanted to hear.
It stayed that way until one day when Dean was reading a book on his bed, and
he heard Castiel tap softly on the wall between them. The elder Winchester
wished he could hide the small smile that formed on his face – he didn't know
when this lustful attraction had turned into the butterflies he felt in his
stomach – but he didn't hate the development. Usually, when Castiel tapped,
they shared a joint from their separate rooms, but when Dean opened his window,
Castiel's was still closed.
Frowning, Dean went back into the room and tapped back. Somehow, over the past
couple of weeks, they managed to get a system down. He could usually tell what
Castiel wanted just with the ferocity of his knocks, but this time he was at a
loss.
Was he just making sure Dean was there or did he want something?
"Cas?" Dean called. The walls were thin; he didn't need to say it loud, and he
heard the low chuckle as a response. For some reason, Dean felt heat rising in
his body. "You need something?"
"Shh," Castiel called. The bed squeaked, and Dean could imagine the boy was
sitting down, maybe lying down. Dean's heart seemed to beat faster with
anticipation. "Just listen."
The younger Novak had been shameless, pleasing himself whenever he wanted,
being loud and unabashed, but he had never made sure Dean was listening before.
He always assumed Dean was in his room, always listening. This time, he made
sure.
Dean put his hand on the wall, wishing it were gone. He wanted to see the
beautiful boy laid out on the bed, wanted to feel every inch of his skin. Dean
wanted to kiss it, mark it, and be kissed and marked in return.
Lost for a moment in his own mind, Dean barely heard the sound of Castiel's
nightstand drawer opening. He couldn't hear the small click of the lube top
opening, but somehow he could see it if he closed his eyes. He knew that was
what Castiel was doing.
The other boy went slowly; Dean could tell by his sounds. He ignored his
erection in favor of spreading his knees apart, head lying back against the
pillows. There was no sound at all until the small hiss: the lube was too cold
on his hole. Still, the boy pushed on, giving a low moan as he spread it
around, making sure he had enough on his fingers before pressing in.
Castiel always made the same noise as he first pushed in when he fingered
himself. It was a gasp – almost like he was always surprised by the feeling –
followed by a short, soft sound. It was almost like a whine or a whimper. Of
all the sounds he made, that sound seemed to be the most private, the most
real. Dean pressed his forehead against their shared wall, wishing he was there
to see the faces the boy made along with the sound.
Dean could hear Castiel's breathing through the wall. Already it sounded
strained, and the boy hadn't even started moving yet.
But when he did start, the sounds were delicious.
When he first started listening to his neighbor masturbate, Dean was sure he
was putting on a show, trying to rile Dean up. The boy would moan too loudly –
nobody Dean had ever been with had ever been that loud – but the more time that
went on, the more the elder Winchester realized that it wasn't so.
Castiel was just extremely vocal in bed.
And when the boy started moving his finger inside his own hole, his soft sounds
gained force. Whimpers turned to groans, and the deep sound sent a spark down
Dean's spine. Normally, the boy would fumble with his belt, take out his cock,
and pleasure himself right along with his neighbor; however, this time, it felt
different.
This time, he wanted to hear every sound without distraction.
Dean could tell Castiel added another finger by the catch in his voice. The low
moans died suddenly, only to come back stronger and with a slightly higher
pitch to them, something that sounded a little more desperate.
The boy could find his own prostate easily – Dean could remember hearing him
wailing with pleasure before – but he seemed to be ignoring it now. Although
obviously enjoying the feeling, Castiel wasn't rushing to get himself off, and
for some reason, that only added to the excitement for Dean.
Long minutes went by, and then two fingers turned to three, marked with a
squeak in the bed as Castiel dug his heels into the mattress to lift his hips.
The sound he made was strangled – needy and careless – and Dean could imagine
how his neighbor's body was tinted pink with his arousal.
At this point, Castiel was usually lost to the outside. Dean could start
banging on the wall, Mike could knock the door down, and Castiel wouldn't stop.
The entire development could be up in flames, but the boy was gone, too focused
on his own pleasure. He wouldn't stop for anything.
That's why when Castiel whimpered, followed by heavy panting, Dean lifted his
head from off the wall. The elder Winchester frowned at the white space that
separated him from his neighbor, clearing his throat and asking, "Cas?" His
voice was rough, spent, as if he had been the one moaning for the past several
minutes.
For a long moment, Dean heard Castiel trying to regain his breathing. If Dean
didn't know Castiel better, he would have figured his neighbor had come, but
there was no way. Castiel wasn't quiet at any point in the process; his climax
was always a loud production. He was murmuring swear words that were tinted
with frustrated tears, and Dean smoothed his hand over the wall, as if patting
the barrier between them could comfort his friend.
"You okay, Cas?" Dean called again.
"Yeah…" the boy said. There was a creak in the mattress. Castiel was standing
up. His footsteps were heavy, and Dean heard the rustling of clothes, the click
of the belt. "I was just… I didn't want to get off."
"Why not?"
"Saving it for later. Just… Just trying to prepare myself."
"You're," Dean's throat seemed to close. He was prepping himself for later. He
would need to be open and relaxed for later. For someone. For someone else.
Dean's heart was already racing, but his tongue suddenly felt thick in his
mouth. "Are you going somewhere with someone?"
Dean heard Castiel snort. His footsteps got louder; he was approaching the
wall. When he placed his hand over the barrier between them, he hit it hard
enough for Dean to hear where he was. "You're an idiot."
"You mean –"
"Michał is going to drop off some product later," Castiel said, his voice
dropping to a deep rumble. "I figured we'll have at least fifteen minutes, if
you're interested."
"Trust me," Dean said. "I'm very interested."
"Good," Castiel said – Dean could hear the smile on his face – and he walked
away from their shared wall. Dean heard Castiel's bedroom door shut behind him.
===============================================================================
It was difficult for Dean to focus on anything when he knew what Castiel was
planning for them. He couldn't settle down. For ten minutes after Castiel left
his room, Dean paced around his bed, trying to calm himself down. It felt like
an electric current was running through his body, making it impossible to do
anything but pace, but eventually he opened his window (not to check and make
sure Mike's car was still there. It was, by the way, but he didn't open the
window just to check. No, of course not.) and made his way back to his bed.
He sat down and pulled his book closer to him.
Five minutes after that, Dean heard a car door open and close, then Castiel's
footsteps rushing in the room, followed by frantic pounding on the wall between
them.
"Dean," Castiel called. "The car's gone."
The promise of Mike being gone set Dean's heart rate skyrocketing. He threw the
blanket back and ran to the window, looking down over the front driveway. He
saw the car driving off down the street.
Mike was one of the few people in the complex who had his own car, even though
he never really drove. He never really even left the house. Dean knew that Mike
wouldn't be gone long, and they didn't have time to waste.
Castiel leaned out of his window just as Dean was lifting himself up to the
frame. It seemed so stupid, once his feet hit the little ledge between their
windows, and in hind sight, it might have been faster to go around, but Castiel
was grinning, hanging out the window to grab on to Dean, trying to drag him
into the window.
It took some time, but soon enough, Dean was crashing onto the floor in
Castiel's bedroom.
He'd never actually been in the space before, and even though he didn't want to
waste any time, he couldn't help but look around. The bed was at least a full,
the TV was big, and the posters around the room were mostly of American movies.
"This is… um… a nice room that…"
"Clothes off," Castiel demanded, grabbing Dean's arm and pulling. Together,
they managed to get him on his feet again, and together they stripped him down.
The second Dean's shirt was up and over his head, he felt Castiel's lips on his
skin. Castiel kissed like he had been dying to taste every inch of Dean's skin,
and Dean couldn't help it when he placed his hands on Castiel's face,
redirecting his head so Dean could press their lips together.
Everything was rushed.
Clothes were stripped off quickly, and there wasn't time for the boys to
appreciate each other's bodies. Somehow, in Dean's mind, he knew if they could
just do this once – one time without Mike catching them and killing him – he
would be able to convince Castiel to come to his house. They would be mostly
alone there; they could take their time and really explore one another, but
this was not that time.
Once they were both naked, Castiel guided them toward the bed. He pushed Dean
down, and the elder Winchester moved toward the center. Castiel followed him,
wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders and sitting himself in the elder
boy's lap. For a brief moment, Dean stopped moving, looking over the other boy.
His pupils were blown wide with lust, his hair was a mess, and his bottom lip
was caught between his teeth.
Dean wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist, looking down to take in the
sight of him. He was muscular, strong; his skin was tanner, his cock just a bit
thicker. Dean wrapped his hand around his neighbor's erection, looking back up
at his face when Castiel hissed.
"I'm…" Castiel started to say, but favored actions instead of words. He pushed
at Dean's shoulders, laying him back on the bed. He grabbed a condom from the
nightstand, turning to put it on Dean. After situating himself again, he
reached his hand back, gripping at Dean's cock and holding it steady.
"Wait," Dean said. "You're still, you know, right? I don't want it to hurt."
Castiel turned back around to face Dean, a smile on his face. He leaned over,
pressing a short, reassuring kiss to his friend's lips. The elder Winchester
moved his free hand around Castiel's shoulders, trying to keep him there. They
kissed – lazy and slow – for a moment, before Castiel sat back up.
"I promise that I'm ready for you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Dean," Castiel smiled. "I wouldn't hurt myself. You wouldn't willingly
hurt me, either. Trust me. I was very thorough."
"If you're sure…"
"Trust me," Castiel repeated. He leaned forward, grabbing the lubricant from
the nightstand, pouring some onto his hand. When he reached back this time, he
moved his hand over Dean's cock, spreading the lube over the condom. Dean's
breath hitched in his throat, and he made a quiet, pleased sound. Castiel
smiled. "I will make this feel very good for you, Dean. Trust me."
Dean tried to laugh, but it came out as a groan instead. "Isn't that my line? I
want it to be good for you, too, Cas."
"Then we will be good to each other, yes?" the boy said, smile still on his
face. This time, when he held Dean still and lowered himself, Dean didn't
object. Castiel had prepared himself less than half an hour ago; Dean hoped he
would still be loose enough. He didn't want to hurt him.
With Castiel on top, he was at least able to control his decent. Dean swore he
felt every inch as he sank down. He paused a few times, leaning over to kiss
Dean, as he relaxed and stretched to accommodate him. Before long, Castiel was
seated all the way down, his fingers digging into Dean's chest, his cock left
abandoned against Dean's stomach.
The elder Winchester ran his palms over Castiel's thighs. He seemed calm,
soothed, but Dean's eyes never left his neighbor's face, looking for any sign
of discomfort. "You okay?"
"Mmhmm," Castiel groaned, his half-lidded eyes finding Dean's. "You?"
"You feel amazing, Cas," Dean admitted, flushing at his own honesty.
"Then let's start moving."
Castiel was the only one who moved initially, raising himself up to lower
himself down again. His went slowly, letting both of them get use to the feel
of his movements, before he started moving faster. Dean kept his hands on
Castiel's thighs, rubbing his thumbs against the skin, feeling the flex of the
muscles as he worked. Images of the boy running through the development flashed
through Dean's mind briefly, and he knew the boy's stamina would be amazing
when they had the time to put it to the test.
But they had to hurry; Mike could be home at any time.
Dean bent his knees, digging his heels into the mattress so he could thrust up
into his neighbor. Up until this point, Castiel had been trying to stay quiet;
however, as soon as Dean started moving, Castiel got louder.
Sometimes his head would tip back, exposing his throat, as he let out a long,
deep sound. Other times, his head would fall forward, resting his chin against
his chest as he pressed down on his palms, making his rise and fall more
shallow, causing him to give off little grunts and gasps of breath.
The elder Winchester was addicted to the sounds, and he mimicked them without
realizing. Spurred on by how vocal his partner was, Dean didn't want to hold
his own pleasure back. He gripped Castiel's hips, pulling him down toward him
as he thrust up into his heat, and groaned.
It didn't take long. They were both on edge from before – Castiel from
fingering himself and Dean from listening to it – and after Dean stopped
holding himself back, he saw that Castiel was watching him, listening to their
shared pleasure. Castiel took his cock into his hand, jerking himself in time
with their movements. He sank himself down on Dean's cock and stilled. Although
for the most part, Castiel's sounds had been incoherent, Dean could make out
one syllable as Castiel was coming all over the elder Winchester's chest:
 "Dean!"
Dean followed as Castiel tightened around him and started to move again.
Castiel stilled for a second time, panting and holding himself up by his arms.
There wasn't much of a break before Castiel moved off of Dean – both of them
making a small sound when Dean slipped free of Castiel – and Dean stood up,
taking the condom off, trying to hide it in a tissue before throwing it away.
The dark haired teen met Dean as he turned around, kissing him as he cleaned
his own come off Dean's chest with another tissue.
Everything would have worked perfectly, if only Dean had gotten dressed and
left. He enjoyed cuddling as much as the next guy, but he never planned on
kissing Castiel for long minutes, eventually letting the boy lead him back into
the bed. They settled in under the covers, Dean in Castiel's strong arms, and
continued kissing.
It might have been that they were both distracted, so they didn't hear the car
pull up out front or the doors slam. Dean swore he never heard Mike come home,
but one minute, he and Castiel were kissing, and the next, Mike was bursting
into the door.
Castiel was right. This time he was waving around his gun.
Dean tried jumping out of bed, but he was tangled around Castiel and still
naked. Mostly, he just fell out of bed, trying his best to cover himself as he
stood back up. Castiel's window was still open, and Dean wondered if he could
jump from a second story window and still run away before Mike killed him.
Before he even made a step to the window, though, Castiel was throwing the
blankets off of him, standing up to face his brother. Even with a gun in his
hand, Mike was not the angrier of the two brothers; Castiel was fuming.
He threw the punch before Dean realized what was going to happen. The gun was
dropped on the floor as Mike moved one hand to his cheek, the other one
outstretched to block a second punch. Castiel didn't throw another one;
instead, he picked up the gun.
The Novaks had been silent up until this point, but suddenly, the pair of them
started shouting at each other. Dean couldn't understand it – they were so loud
and so angry that he doubted he could understand even if it was in English –
and just as soon as they started yelling, they stopped.
Castiel was frowning at Mike, confused and angry, but Mike was grinning back.
The elder Novak turned to Dean and said, "You two get dressed. I'm not talking
to you until you put your fucking dicks away."
Dean's heart was still beating wildly, but Castiel had the gun. Mike wouldn't
be able to shoot him as he was getting dressed, and Dean decided he'd have more
dignity if he died with his clothes on, anyway. The elder Winchester started
getting dressed before Castiel made a move to do the same, but after a couple
of tense moments, the younger Novak put the gun on the stand – far enough away
from Mike so that he couldn't grab it – and started pulling his pants back on.
Even though Dean was completely dressed, he wished he had more clothes on, like
a hoodie or a parka or something, just so he had more layers between him and
the elder Novak. The look on Mike's face wasn't the same murderous rage he had
seen before, but his cheeks were red and he was frowning at Castiel.
Once Castiel had pants on, he stood shirtless and picked the gun back up, but
kept his arm limp at his side. He didn't point it at his brother.
Neither of them said anything for a long moment.
It was awkward, and even though Dean was sure he was involved in the fight, for
the most part, he had been ignored. That is, until Mike turned toward him,
crossed his arms over his chest, and said, "I told him not to fuck with any
scaly motherfuckers from this hood."
Dean figured it would be better if he didn't say anything. He wanted to look
down, but submitting would somehow be worse. Dean forced himself to look at
Mike.
"Just now when we were yelling, I told him that you weren't one of them. You're
not one of us. You don't count."
The elder Winchester frowned, not quite sure what Mike was saying. He looked at
Castiel – who still looked pissed off – and he said, "He means you're
different."
"How am I any different from any of them?" Dean asked.
Mike laughed. "Are you kidding, those fuckers have one thing on their mind.
You… okay, you're a teenaged guy, so you have that on your mind too – obviously
– but you think about other things. You make sure the bastards don't get to
your brother, and you make sure he's doing good in school and that he's fed.
You take care of him. You take care of Cas, and me, too. You are good, not like
them."
"I'm…" Dean started. "I'm not, you know. I'm just like them."
"Nah," Mike grinned. "You're just too stupid to see it. But I'm not. And Cas
isn't. He knows a good thing when he sees it."
"I'm just going to leave, you know," Dean said. "My dad's going to come back
and drag us off again. It's not like I've got a ring or anything."
For the first time since Mike burst in, Castiel smiled. He smiled at Mike, who
grinned back at his brother and said, "You Americans are so stupid."
"But they are cute," Castiel added, handing the gun back to his brother.
Mike held the gun up, taking the clip from the weapon and showing it to Dean.
"It's not loaded. You think I will point a loaded gun at an American in this
neighborhood? No way. I am just trying to scare you. You fuck up my brother,
and I will fuck you up. Yes? We are in an understanding?"
"Michał," Castiel said, turning pink.
"I understand."
"Good. Great, even," Mike said, putting the clip back in the gun and walking
over to Dean. He threw his arms around his shoulders easily, bringing him into
a side-armed hug as if he were family. "Your little Sammy will be home from
school soon, and I think we should have snacks ready for him. You'll teach me
to make brownies, yes?"
"Uh… yeah, sure," Dean said, looking back at Castiel. His neighbor grinned at
him and started looking for his shirt.
It was later, in the kitchen after the brownies were already made and half
eaten by Sam and Mike, that Dean realized what the Novaks had meant about
Americans being stupid. John would be back – he always came back – but it had
been months. It could be even more months before he returned. And watching Mike
help Sam with his math while Castiel stood beside him, helping him make
Kiełbasa, he knew that he had been stupid.
Mike had been right. He wasn't one of the scaly motherfuckers from this hood.
And neither were the Novaks. They were all more than that. They were all
family.
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