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Lie Back and Think of Heaven 1/?

Princess Mononoke etherealxlolita
Lie Back and Think of Heaven, Dean/Castiel, 1/? 
Title: Lie Back and Think of Heaven, 1/?
Rating: R
Warnings: language, sex
Spoilers: none, slightly AU
Disclaimer: I have no control over Eric Kripke, else SPN would resemble a very gay soap opera. Oh wait. 
Summary: John dies in Dean's senior year, and Dean's left to raise Sammy on his own. Or is he?

Author's Notes: This was originally a callboy!fic inspired by tracy_loo_who (and can I reference her here? I feel too insignificant to), but it morphed into something almost entirely different. Dean still whores his ass out, though, just kind of... accidentally.


Chapter 1

John’s dead the winter of Dean’s senior year, slumped motionless against the Impala. Dean finds him two weeks later, stopping dead still in the forest clearing as he sees in the plaid red shirt, black with blood, and the eyes that gaze blindly towards him with regret, though the flesh has rotted in places and Dean can’t tell for sure. What he does know is that he can’t raise Sammy to live this life, hunting monsters, not when each shovel of dirt he pours over the ashes that night he thinks, “This could’ve been Sammy I’m burying. I could be burying Sam next.”

For several moments he chokes on the raging urge to find and destroy the son of a bitch who did this, then the overpowering need for a drink. He shoves them deep down, and instead he returns to the motel, where Sam takes one good look at him and starts crying. He stumbles into Dean’s embrace, brokenly whispering “no, no,” and Dean wraps his arms around him tightly as they collapse onto the motel’s ratty couch, murmuring comforting words into Sam’s hair, rocking gently and furiously blinking back tears. They fall asleep there, on the couch, and in the morning Dean makes breakfast like every other Dad-less day before they head silently out for school.

They don’t talk about it, but half a week later Dean’s heading towards his car when a guy in his class says “Nice ride,” and next thing Dean knows his knuckles throb gloriously and the guy’s on the ground, holding his swollen cheek in shock. When the school tells Dean to bring his parents over, he tells Sammy to pack up – neither Dean nor Sam has made many good memories here anyway. The wind rushes through the open windows of the Impala, threading through their hair like cool hands.

“I want to see dad,” Sam announces suddenly.

Dean swivels his head towards him, but says nothing as he takes a detour. Half an hour later he watches Sam stare stonily at the makeshift cross, silently assessing, before turning on his heel and stalking back to the Impala. Dean hears the car door slam behind him and sighs, stepping a little closer to the grave.

“Don’t mind Sammy, Dad, he’s just a little pissy ‘cause you won’t see him grow facial hair,” he chuckles, ignoring the slight hitch in his voice. “He’ll get over it.”

He pauses. The rough hewn wood remains silent. “I’ll take care of him,” Dean continues. “I’ll make sure he’s happy. Raised good. I’ll make you proud.”

Another pause and he turns away. Thousands of words unspoken fill the chasm between the freshly turned soil and Dean’s slow steps, awakening the fallen leaves that take flight and swirl around Dean’s legs before settling on the ground once more. He doesn't notice.

When they get back on the road, Dean clears his throat. “We’re on our own Sammy,” he says, putting as much bravado in his voice as he can. “Just you, me, and this fine lady here,” patting the dashboard fondly. Sammy doesn’t turn to face him.

Dean sighs, his voice a little softer. “Sammy… I… I know I’m not the best big brother in the world –” and here Sam does look at him, so that’s something, “– but I’ll do my best. We won’t be going after ghosts anymore, Sam.”

Sam starts in surprise, the first emotion other than grief or anger he’s shown since Dean came back bloody and dusty and terrible. Dean feels as if a weight had been lifted from him.

“Really?” Sam asks with soft incredulity.

“Really,” Dean confirms, grinning gamely. “It’s about time we got a normal life, right? We’ll rent out an apartment, have pie every night, we’ll go to one high school our whole lives…” He cringes a little at that, but Sam’s brightening a little more with every word.

“I’d like that,” Sam says, and Dean knows his smile is worth every girl’s father he’ll have to outrun.

The next day is when Dean begins to realize that a normal life might be harder than he thought; that is, when they get a motel in South Dakota, and Dean opens his wallet to find no more than eighty-seven dollars, twenty-three cents and a ball of lint in its threadbare compartments. For a while the live off of money Dean makes hustling pool, but he knows it won’t be long before all the bars in town bodily throw him out their door, so he starts looking for a source of steady local income.

Ignoring Sam’s protests, he quits school (that's no hardship) and looks for a job, but the ones he finds that take him are minimum-wage busboy crap jobs – great for bored high-schoolers looking for extra cash, absolutely terrible for a teenager raising a younger brother alone. Dean would use a false ID, but his stupid baby face and his damn school transcript rat him out. Dean would work extra hours, but he has to pick Sam up after school, and Dean loses three jobs constantly running back to the motel in the middle of night-shifts, visions of Shtriga crazing his head.

Three months after John’s death and Dean’s already failing. He has to beg the motel manager to keep their tab a little longer each week, and he’s worried sick that she or the school will start asking questions about two young brothers with parents that are never there. Sammy never complains and smiles every time he throws his backpack into the passenger’s seat, but Dean can tell he’s been faking it since week two. Every day Dean finds it harder to skip the obituaries when looking for jobs that never accept him in the newspaper.

He’s frustrated and on edge, and when Sammy asks what’s for dinner one night, he just snaps. “It’s not a goddamn nine-course meal, that’s for sure,” he says, and it should’ve been a joke except it doesn’t come out that way. The hurt look Sammy gives him fills him with guilt, followed quickly by indignant anger. Dean squashes it and tries to make up for his outburst by asking Sam about his day, but after Sam’s short, “’t’s alright,” they eat in silence.

Dean feels the inexplicable rage build inside of him. Sammy’s not the one to blame, you’ve been doing this your whole damn life, Dean snarls to himself. Get a grip.

Making up his mind, he slips out after dinner for a drink while Sammy works on homework. One hour, one drink to shake off the tension that’s been building in his shoulders, the pressure in his head. Halfway there, he realizes he’s forgotten his wallet. The pressure increases. By the time he stalks through the bar entrance, Dean’s stupid with stress and anger, and comes to a conclusion: the only way he’ll feel better tonight, he reasons, is if someone ends up bloody, and only if it’s because that somebody has his fist through their fucking face.

He sweeps his eyes through the room, looking for a reason, any reason, to start some shit; one man is unfortunate enough to catch Dean’s gaze. Dean stalks towards him with every intent to rile him into the biggest bar fight this town will ever see, clenching his fists in sweet anticipation.

Before he can get a word out, though, the man says, “You’re beautiful.”

It’s so out of the blue it even derails Dean, for a moment. He recovers quickly, shooting back with “And you’re an ass. What the hell do you want?”

The other man doesn’t seem fazed; he simply keeps gazing at him with electric-blue eyes, dragging them across Dean’s body before steadily meeting his glare again. The man licks his lips.

“I have a job for you,” he begins.

Suddenly it makes a terrible amount of sense, and Dean asks, “How much do you have on you?” before he can stop himself. The tiny, eager hope that sparks in the depths of his heart makes bile rise in his throat.

The man frowns momentarily before digging through his pockets and handing him his wallet. Dean frowns, a little thrown off, but he takes it anyway and rifles through it. His mouth dries. Eight hundred dollars. He shakes the bills in his hands, raising one eyebrow in disbelief towards the other man, who nods. Dean stares. That’s just over what he owes the motel manager. Dean could pay off that bitchy motel manager, buy good food, like the pie he’s promised, for once… and Sammy’s birthday’s in two weeks.

“We can… talk… outside,” he mutters finally, pocketing the cash and throwing the wallet back to the man's hands.

They take the establishment’s side exit into a deserted alleyway, and before Dean can lose his nerve he fists the guy’s shirt and crushes his back onto the wall and his mouth onto his. The man’s moan vibrates on Dean’s lips with something like surprise or pleasure; Dean takes it as a good sign.

This is just sex, Dean thinks, and Dean’s had sex before, of course. He’s had his experiences with a boy or three through the years too, so this isn’t new, and he relaxes a little and adds some tongue, licking the smooth, sharp points of the man’s teeth. After a moment he gets adequately into the act to grind his hips against the other set, whose owner whimpers quietly, once, before resting his hands lightly on Dean’s chest.

For a few minutes Dean continues to kiss and gyrate as enticingly as he knows how, and when he’s horny enough that the thought of a stranger’s dick in his mouth doesn’t completely repulse him, he rips himself away and drops to his knees. The questioning noise above him is cut off with a gasp as Dean unzips his navy slacks, flicking a glance at the half-hard appendage before placing a wet kiss on the head, closing his eyes, and taking the length smoothly. Dean ignores the suffocating sensation as it nudges his throat, stopping only when his nose nuzzles the soft hair at the base.

Hands lace gently through Dean’s hair as he begins to suck with a low pressure that he increases, swirling his tongue around the length and sliding his lips up and down in a rhythm that the stranger eventually follows, thrusting his hips into Dean’s face with an almost tender carefulness Dean doesn’t expect. In a scant few minutes a bitter taste fills his mouth, and Dean chokes as he struggles to control his gag reflexes.

When it’s all over, Dean stands and shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground while the man slowly zips up, hoping he’s done enough – Friggin’ hell, Dean thinks, I’ll sound like Louis Armstrong tomorrow – but knows that guys who hand out eight hundred bucks usually want more than a quick blowjob in an alley. He’s been gone from the motel long enough, though, and Dean’s thinking about bolting with the cash when a crisp white card slides into in his line of vision. Anna’s Angels, it says in sultry black lettering, over a number and an address.

“A job waits for you there,” the man says in a low, even voice which doesn’t hint at all that he’s just had someone go down on him. Dean feels a moment’s irritation. “No questions will be asked, and you won’t have to do what you’ve just done tonight.”

He looks up, but the guy must walk quickly because the only thing keeping Dean’s company is his painfully tight pair of jeans. He quietly takes care of his hard-on in the men’s room (Sammy can’t see me this way, he thinks) before walking back to the motel, ignoring the ugly, empty feeling in his chest. The tyke’s asleep when he gets back, so he strips off his jacket and jeans as quietly as he can before sliding into bed.

“Dinner was great,” he hears from a small, hesitant voice across the nightstand. Dean feels his eyes sting inexplicably before gruffly replying. “No problem.”

---
Part 2
---

AN2: Yeah, it's a bit hasty, but I hope it was a good beginning. Also, though I loathe to mention it, this is my first SPN fic, so constructive criticism would be welcome. Just don't kill me, please.


EDIT: Edited the title because I am a moron.

Comments

( 46 comments — Leave a comment )
tracy
Jan. 18th, 2010 11:33 pm (UTC)
Dude. I am hooked. This has just the right amount of bleakness, just the right amount of hardass!Dean angst, just the right amount of brotherly bickering and love between Dean and Sam, and just the right amount of careful tenderness from Cas that doesn't cross the line into schmoop. In other words, I WANT MORE.

(And I am so flattered I inspired this, even if indirectly! I remember you commenting to say you wanted to write callboy!fic a while ago, but I wasn't sure if it would happen. I AM GLAD IT IS. ♥!)

One thing, though, because you did say concrit was welcome -- the correct term is "lie back"; "lay" is used with an object, as in laying something down. Uh. I really hope it's not too out of place for me to point that out. -.-

Edited at 2010-01-18 11:37 pm (UTC)
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:03 am (UTC)
DANG IT. I checked it a bazillion times over, thinking, "I just know I'm going to make a stupid grammatical error somewhere," and it turns out to be in the title. GO ME.

But thanks so much! I'm really relieved that someone likes it, and I'm really glad you like it! Like, squealing like a little girl glad. Like, giddy. Okay, I'm shutting up now. xD
shiba08
Jan. 18th, 2010 11:37 pm (UTC)
Wow this is very interesting start=)

Hope to read more. I can already see there is more to this than meets the eye..i like=)..you definitely have written something that has a lot of potential and i would love to read more^_^
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:07 am (UTC)
Thank you so much! I really hope I won't disappoint. :]
mulder200
Jan. 18th, 2010 11:49 pm (UTC)
What an interesting beginning. Pretty bleak but with a touch of hope. I can so see Dean doing this. But who's the mysterious stranger?

I can't wait to find out more.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:08 am (UTC)
SANTA.

But thank you very much! I will try my hardest not to disappoint. :D
crimson_antics
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:14 am (UTC)
I love those kind of callboy fics, and this seems like a promising start, so I'm eager to read the next part :).
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:18 am (UTC)
Thank you! Yeah, callboy fics are a guilty pleasure of mine. >.>
1deanlover1
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:44 am (UTC)
:( my poor dean!!!! i love it! u'll continue quickly and regularly right? RIGHT?
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:48 am (UTC)
I have the next chapter already written out! I don't want to post it yet, though, because... I have nothing after that. D: BUT I WILL CONTINUE WRITING!

Ehee, I like your avatar. 8D
quovadimus83
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:46 am (UTC)
I really like this beginning. this so easily could have been their lives. I'm eagerly waiting another post! keep 'em comin'.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 12:58 am (UTC)
Thanks much! I'm happy you liked it. :D
fannishliss
Jan. 19th, 2010 01:08 am (UTC)
I SAW WHAT U DID THAR!

COOL!
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 02:17 am (UTC)
I DO NOT KNOW OF THAT WHICH YOU SPEAK OF. 8D

Thanks! :D
(Deleted comment)
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:18 am (UTC)
I'm getting sucked into working on it, with all these wonderful reviews... I'm such an attention whore.

Thank you! <3
siriusly_odd
Jan. 19th, 2010 01:45 am (UTC)
Yup, I'm hooked :) This was a really interesting beginning... I hope to see more soon!
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:19 am (UTC)
Thank you! I hope I can keep you hooked.
juanitatequila
Jan. 19th, 2010 01:48 am (UTC)
I AM HOOKED~~~
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:17 am (UTC)
I AM GLAD~~~

Thank you. <3
baad51
Jan. 19th, 2010 02:08 am (UTC)
This look promising. We want more, we want more!! Please update soon :)

He pauses. The rough hewn wood remains silent. “I’ll take care of him,” Dean continues. “I’ll make sure he’s happy. Raised good. I’ll make you proud.”

If anyone can do that, it's Dean.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:16 am (UTC)
I know, right? He's a real trooper. :']

Thanks!
laurapetri
Jan. 19th, 2010 02:18 am (UTC)
very good start looking forward to more
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:20 am (UTC)
Thank you!
birddi
Jan. 19th, 2010 04:17 am (UTC)
Wow. I really wanna know where you go with this.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:21 am (UTC)
Lol, I wanna know where I go with this... xD
streamengenius
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:18 am (UTC)
Part 2 please.

I'm super hooked already!

dammmn 800 dollar blow job wow.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:20 am (UTC)
I know, right? But, you know, it's from Dean Winchester... ;D
streamengenius
Jan. 19th, 2010 05:22 am (UTC)
Shit I would 800 dollars for him to do anything.
It would be freakin worth it.

A+
janekrahe
Jan. 19th, 2010 06:45 am (UTC)
yes, Yes, YES!!!!

moar soon plz?
chipped_diamond
Jan. 20th, 2010 04:32 am (UTC)
Thank you! Hopefully soon, I want to flesh the plot a little more first. I'm terrified that this will become one of those eternally-WIPs I loathe with a passion I usual save for child molesters...
ravensilverwing
Jan. 19th, 2010 06:51 am (UTC)
I'm on board for wherever this fic is going. Nicely done.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 20th, 2010 04:33 am (UTC)
Thank you! :D
mindwar
Jan. 19th, 2010 08:24 am (UTC)
So good. I was reluctant to read it at first, for some now-unknown reason. This is really really good. I like the little nuances, the little details that you put in-- like Dean finding John's body, how Sammy knows without Dean having to say anything, etc.

I can't wait to read more.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 20th, 2010 04:35 am (UTC)
Thank you so much! I think it was the title. Stupid lay/lie grammatical nuances blah, I nearly slapped myself in embarrassment. But I'm glad you read regardless. :]
draconic_girl
Jan. 19th, 2010 10:57 am (UTC)
This looks very interesting! :D Can't wait for more!

And owww, that beginning, poor boys...

'B
chipped_diamond
Jan. 20th, 2010 04:37 am (UTC)
I know, I feel a little bad that I'm taking so much painful pleasure from their misfortune. A little.
citizencandy
Jan. 19th, 2010 06:19 pm (UTC)
EEP ! Need moar, stat !

I've had a craptastic week of mid-terms. And tomorrow is British History (*gagging noises*). I wanted to procrastinate a little - okay, a lot - and i NEED to know more to this story !!

And who was the stranger ? I NEED TO KNOW DAMMIT
chipped_diamond
Jan. 20th, 2010 04:51 am (UTC)
PROCRASTINATORS UNITE!... tomorrow. xD

Ugh, finals, I'm not looking forward to mine... but I'm glad you're hooked! :D

As for the stranger, it's no secret as to who he is.

HE'S SANTA.
arlennil
Jan. 19th, 2010 07:33 pm (UTC)
Your writing style is really good... are you sure this is your first fanfic? :)

Plus, the story is very intrigueing... you've got me hooked on, that's for sure. Now I'm going to wander 'who is this mysterious man and why did he went to the alley with Dean when he offered him a real job after?' until you post the next part...
chipped_diamond
Jan. 20th, 2010 04:56 am (UTC)
Well, it's my first SPN fanfic. Most of the stuff I think up remains in my head, let alone posted online. This is a very good thing. xD

As for the mysterious man, he's no mystery; he's SANTA, why does nobody believe me? D:
cherryshadowz
Jan. 20th, 2010 02:15 am (UTC)
Oh I like this :)

Dean, oh dear, I'm thinking he misunderstood what Cas was implying. It's an interesting scenario and I can't wait to see more.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 20th, 2010 05:19 am (UTC)
Thank you!

Ah, misunderstandings. I've had a few, and despite them can still appreciate the ensuing humor. Dean probably doesn't, though. xD
laura_trekkie
Jan. 27th, 2010 07:09 pm (UTC)
Great start. Poor Dean is doing all he can for Sam, but there's really only so far a legitimate job can take him :(. What will he be required to do at Anna's Angels, I wonder?

Laura.
chipped_diamond
Jan. 29th, 2010 01:40 am (UTC)
He will be made to strip. FOR ME.

...In my sad, pathetic dreams. But thank you! xD
uwalumni2
Jan. 29th, 2010 06:34 am (UTC)
You did great! I loved it and now I am hooked! Teary eyed at the thought of our boys so young and the responsibility on Dean's shoulder...Cas...grin...want more! :D
chipped_diamond
Jan. 29th, 2010 04:03 pm (UTC)
I glad you like it! Thank you! :D
( 46 comments — Leave a comment )