(You) Ain't Seen Nothing Yet
Part One
Pairing: Sam Winchester (Supernatural) and Boaz Priestly (Ten Inch Hero)
Characters: Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Jessica Moore, Bobby Singer, Tish, Jen, Trucker
Raiting: PG - NC-17 (in later chapters)
Summary: When Sam Winchester left for Stanford, he swore he'd left that life behind. Now he has it all: a nice apartment, awesome friends and the hottest boyfriend ever. So when the last people he expected to see appears on the doorstep pulling him back into the hunting he tried so hard to run from, will he accept who he is before his friends end up dead?
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The shrill ringing of a cell phone was the first thing that seemed to break through his sleepy haze, the second thing being the arm slung over his waist - his very naked waist - and the fact that at the end of that arm was a very naked body. One hand raising to wipe the goo from his half lidded eyes, he blinked owlishly, still unaware of what was going on.
That's a point - where the hell was he? And would somebody please shut that fuckin' phone up.
He was, at this point, becoming more awake and alert; enough so to realise that the sound was in fact a really loud version of an old Journey song which meant one of two things. Either he was finally cracking up and hearing crappy music in his head...or some bastard had changed his ringtone. He was going to go with option b meaning only one person could have done it. Heaving a slightly overexaggerated sigh, he slapped at the arm round his middle.
"Dude...why is my cell playing Journey?"
A bleary green eye looked up at him from under ungelled pink hair, an eyebrow raised - which he had to admit, for a half asleep male was a major feat - before he shrugged and rolled over, head disappearing under his pillow. Rolling his eyes, he flailed in the darkness for his cell, managing to catch it before it vibrated clean off the table and flipping it open.
"Winchester"
There was a slight pause on the other end which gave him enough time to sit up, sheets pooling in his lap as he waited patiently for the person to speak, even going so far as to pull the phone from his ear to check caller ID - Unknown, typical - before repeating his previous word.
"Why so formal Sammy-baby?"
Groaning, Sam flopped backwards before letting out a long winded sigh. It was just like Jess to call at - he spared a quick glance at the clock beside him - seven thirty in the morning, no doubt to find out exactly what (and who) he'd done last night. Jess took her role as fag hag very seriously, even to the point she'd gone and had a t-shirt made that said 'I'm with my queer BFF'. Dropping a kiss on his bedmates bare, tattooed shoulder before slipping out the bed. A million and one sarcastic and rather rude remarks popped into his head as he tugged on the boxers he found discarded behing the chair before leaving the room.
"Jesus Jess. Do you ever sleep?"
His friends loud cackle rang in his ears, causing his head to throb even more than it had earlier. Jesus, he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose, how much did he drink last night? Usually he'd only have a couple before calling it a night but his friends had just kept handing him shots until he couldn't remember his own name. It was a wonder he'd actually managed to leave with the right person and not some complete stranger. The cackle became a soft laugh before finally there was a sigh.
"Sometimes. Sam...who did you go home with last night? Oh my god, did you cheat!?"
A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he manouvered himself through the apartment towards the kitchen. It was a nice little thing, three bedrooms with only one bathroom sadly which made it hell getting in in the morning seeing as there was often a fight between roomies. Not that he stayed over here that often and even when he did, he was usually up before everyone else. Always alert and waking at the smallest noise, thus is the Winchester curse. Switching on the coffee machine, knowing the other dwellers would be wanting it, he balanced the phone between his shoulder and chin.
"I went home with the same person I always go home with and no, I didn't cheat"
His voice was slow, almost condesending as he reached into the cupboard above his head - managing to smack himself with it in the process - to pick out the familiar 'Beach City Grill' mug, almost dropping it and his phone as he put it down.
"Just checkin', now open the freakin' door boy!"
Stumbling through the darkness, pulling open the hallway curtains to let at least a little bit of light through the gap, he all but ran straight into the door, phone clattering to the floor, "Sonnovabitch!" he growled, unlatching the lock and letting it swing open to reveal Jess in all her glory. She was like a whirlwind of joy, sweeping past him, the potent waft of her perfume hitting his senses, knocking him back a step before closing the door and following her to the kitchen. She wore practically the same thing every day; hipster jeans, a top in various colors and a hooded sweater, usually in grey or black. Taking a second look at the sweater she wore, he almost tripped over the trainers on the floor, "Is that my sweater?" he queried, perching himself on one of the stools at the island, chin cupped in his palm as she nodded, pouring the coffee into the two other mugs she'd pulled down and the one already there.
"Sure is, now get this into lover boy or we won't see him 'til noon and he has to work"
Taking the mug, he wandered back into the bedroom, pulling open the blinds and turning to the bed. It still shocked him that the hunky sandwich maker would go for him, geek extraordinaire. The light bathed his freckled back in gold, the black tattoos standing out against his skin, muscles shifting as he shifted. The bedcover barely covered his ass, Sam's eyes being drawn to the small dip and the starting of his crease. Finger-shaped bruises adorned his hips and he was sure if he touched them, his fingers would match them exactly. The sleeping man rolled over, his hand resting on his lower stomach, pinky brushign the soft downy hair trail leading under the sheet. A vicious looking lovebite stood out against his collarbone, Sam's handywork of course. There was never a sex session that didn't end with bruises and hickeys. Smiling more to himself than anyone else, he crept across the room and slipped back into the bed, surprising himself by not spilling the coffee, before reaching out to shake his boyfriend awake.
"Priestly? Hey babe, wake up"
He held the mug infront of the glassy eyed male who just looked at him blankly, before making grabby hands in the vague direction of the caffienated drink. Laughing softly, Sam handed it over, kissing his boyfriends forehead before getting back out the bed and leaving Priestly to his coffee. It was like a love affair and honestly, he'd only ever met one other person that in love with coffee and he was five hundred odd miles away. Scratching his belly, he meandered back to the kitchen, sitting across from Jess with his own mug. He'd promised her he'd take her shopping today while Priestly was at work. Yawning, he leant back in the seat, staring at the ceiling at the symbols only he could see.
When he'd started getting serious with Priestly and staying over more and more, he'd used UV paint to draw protective symbols above every door and window in the house; he'd pulled up the carpets at the doors to spread salt and ducktape it down before covering it and at the windows he'd mixed salt in with the paint and repainted the frames. It was the same precautions he'd taken with the apartment he shared with Jess and he wasn't risking any of his friends lives. Every now and again he'd switch off all the lights and check over the symbols, fixing them if they were fading. In his bedroom, he had a wooden trunk at the bottom of his bed that was padlocked and had protective sigils carved in to it to look like part of its design; Tish always joked it was his porn stash but truthfully, it was his arsenal. His knives, a gun or two, holy water and some books on exorcisms. He may have given that life up but he wasn't suicidal. He knew he had to take care of himself, he wouldn't end up being the kid whos family (namely brother) had to be called to tell that you were dead.
A knock at the door drew his attention back to the present; he was tempted to ignore it. It's not like he actually lived here and he didn't think Tish or Priestly would appreciate all these people coming in and out before breakfast but seriously, the knocking just wouldn't stop, "SAM FOR FUCKS SAKE! ANSWER THE DOOR, DON'T JUST STARE AT IT!" It was scary how spot on Tish could be, even through three walls and a door. He'd long decided she was Superman in disguise, her ability to see through things. With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and went to answer the door. He didn't particularily care that he was still only in his boxers, most of his gang's friends had seen him in less after that one incident with Priestly, the sofa and and not locking the door. Yet when he swung open the door, the last thing he ever expected was to see his dad and brother stood there, bloody and battered for the first time in nearly a year and a half.