Homo.
My trigger word. The thing that riled me up, and sent me reeling. It was a scar on my fifteen year old self that I couldn't grow out of. It would always be there, following me.
Homo.
It was 1992. The Fresh Prince hadn't made his appearance yet. Sammy was just a little kid. Dad was flakey but still present. I just had Bobby to talk to.
Bobby was calmer back then, and didn't drink so hard. He just looked tired. No one would mistake him for a soldier of fortune. No one would think he sat in a chair and solved the world's darkest problems. He was just Bobby, The Deadest Shot and a Fine Drunk.
I loved Bobby more than anyone. With Sammy so young, there wasn't much of a bond. It wouldn't happen until Dad's death, really, that I could trust him completely. I cared about him deeply, and I would have killed anyone or anything for him... But that was it.
Bobby alone knew every gory detail of my struggles. Bobby alone held my secrets and took them to the grave.
Bobby was the only one who knew about James.
At fifteen, I just wanted to lose my virginity. It was the '90's, man. Everyone was trying to do everyone else. I didn't care about STD's or knocking up some girl. I just wanted to feel something besides my hand. It seemed like the thing to do. Have sex, drink beer, and you'd win at life. I wanted to be popular. I craved it. We had been at the school for almost two months. With dad gone, I didn't have anyone setting rules or keeping me in line. I should have thought about Sammy. I should have cared more. Eventually I did; when it was too late.
It was Amanda Becker's party. She was so hot, with her tiny waist and miniskirts. The miniskirts. I used to dream about sliding my hand up her tan, smooth legs, and pounding her in the locker room. Trust me, it was very hot in my head.
The party was intense. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was there. Nerds, cool kids, hippies and Emos. Everyone congregated together. It was like the earth had stopped and we could all sing koombaya. I didn't think about Monsters, or demons, or any creepy-crawlies that night. It was just me and my libido. The smell of sex radiated up and down Amanda's stairwell. In fact, it had begun to look like a very uncoordinated orgy in her living room. I kind of wanted to join in.
Right as I was about to yell "fuck it" and take a body shot off of the nearest slut, I saw him.
James.
Everyone knew James. Smart kid. Attractive, too. He played football, he did water polo, and he looked absolutely disgusted by everything around him. It was weird because he was popular, and popular people usually didn't give a crap about anything and anyone. He wasn't even drinking. No red solo cup for him: just a water bottle. For a second I thought maybe he had vodka in it, but he was too coordinated.
I found myself walking towards him, drawn into the whole "above-it" attitude. He oozed cool, and I wanted it. Something in the dark eyes and attractive stubble made him seem all the more enticing. I needed to become his friend and learn his secrets.
Remembering I knew how to kill anything a hundred different ways, I managed to approach him. "Hey."
He looked a little startled. "Hey. You're... Dean, right?"
I nodded profusely. Half the struggle was already gone! He knew my name! I reached out to give him a handshake like '90's kids did. He took it, a little unsure, but smiled anyways. In my most flattering voice, I said, "I'm amazed you actually remembered my name."
"It wasn't your name, per say. It was your eyes."
My... What?
He blinked at me, and I blinked back. What could I say to that? There was no getting up from that.
"They're... Uh... They're green."
I tried to ignore the flush of his cheeks. He was just embarrassed. Just embarrassed. "They... Um... Are."
"I mean, it's like a really weird green. Most people probably recognize you from it."
Under my breath I whispered, "I doubt it."
"But, uh, what do I know."
He fidgeted so hard with his water bottle that I half expected it to explode. What the hell was up with him?
I should have walked away. It would have made total sense to walk away. Nothing would have changed, if I had just walked away.
Nothing.
Instead, his eyes slid towards mine, and in that instant I realized what was happening.
James was hitting on me.
I expected to feel a little disgusted, but I didn't. Nothing James did would make me feel disgusted because he was so god-damn successful and good-looking. He reached up to my face and placed his hand on my cheek. I didn't step away. I didn't even blink.
"Have you ever kissed a guy?"
I shook my head as innocently as possible. "No."
He stepped closer, and pressed himself into me. "Would you like to?"
It was weird. James was oddly... Attractive. Like, to me. And I kind of wanted a taste of whatever he was selling. His eyes had become so dark and hungry. They were focused on me. They wanted me, the way no one had ever seemed to want me in my life.
And it sounded pretty good.
I nodded yes, very very subtly, and let him guide me up the stairs.
Couples were hooking up everywhere. Amanda had already taken her whole top layer off and was giving lap dances in the game room. We just needed to find somewhere that locked.
At last, we came upon an unoccupied closet and we stuffed ourselves inside. There was no time to think about air or if my breath smelled okay because he was already kissing me. It was hard and soft at the same time. He wasn't sloppy. Quite the opposite. His mouth had superpowers. I was elated. Amazed. It was happening! The forbidden nature made it even better.
We kept kissing for hours. Days. Weeks. It just went on and on. It wasn't until quite a bit later that I realized both of us had boners. He noticed at the same time, and reached for mine without any warning. His hand was warm through my jeans and it felt good. In fact, I felt better than I had in days. He rubbed and rubbed absentmindedly until I came in my pants.
"Shit." I murmured. I hadn't expected it to hold out for long, since the only person who has ever jacked me off had been me. He smiled like a princess and motioned his own groin. But I didn't wasn't to bother with a hand job, all of a sudden. I wanted something more.
To taste him.
Dean Winchester, the little kid who fought demons and monsters wanted to suck off a popular guy in a closet.
I unbuckled his belt and took his erection into my hand. It was bigger than mine by a lot. I looked around frantically for a moment, trying to find anything that would work as lube. Some body lotion on the third shelf caught my eye. I'd keep that in mind.
I stroked the shaft a couple of times before opening my mouth. It was so warm. Even with the length hitting the back of my throat, it didn't feel awkward or weird. It felt nice, and comfortable. He had helped me, so I should help him.
"Shit shit shit, Dean. Shit." He whispered delightedly. "Oh god. Keep going. Ah... Ah."
The blow job probably lasted two minutes before he blew his seed into my open mouth, whispering, "FUCK, DEAN, fuckkkkk." And I swallowed because that's the sort of guy I am.
He gasped for a few solid minutes, the color in his cheeks bright. I liked it. I had made him feel so good that he couldn't breathe. It was all me.
He brushed my hair out of my face before kissing me chastely. "That was the best."
Of course it was the best. It had been the first.
A few weeks after that, dad picked us up to take us somewhere uptown. I hadn't said more than five words to James after that, because he was still in the closet (metaphorically...) but we always locked eyes in the hallway, sharing a secret. Our secret. But I was moving away, and the secret could just die. No one would ever have to know. Women were still attractive to me, so I wasn't gay. I could just... Be.
It took me three years to finally hear the news about James.
After I left, he was caught kissing another boy in the woods. He was stripped of his letter, he was kicked off of both teams, and his grades slipped.
A few weeks after that, the bullying started.
I learned this from Amanda herself, who had tried to stick up for James while everything happened. They had started to call him homo.
Homo.
Homo.
Homo.
Every day, from everyone in town, he was labeled as the gay boy. The homosexual. He couldn't leave his house without someone flinging shit at him. There was nowhere James could just be.
Eventually, the taunting became full on death threats. He was accused of sodomy and interfering with God's Great Order. His own dad was fired. James turned to drinking.
On August 23rd, 1993, James commuted suicide. He picked up a bottle of painkillers and took them all with a glass of orange juice. He died.
He died because people couldn't understand.
He died because he kissed a boy and liked it.
I lived with that secret for years. It haunted me. I had nightmares where it wasn't James, but me that people were destroying. The demons were laughing at me. The ghosts followed me, taunted me. I felt responsible. I felt horrible.
And yet... I remembered.
He knew he liked men. He knew he was gay. He knew it would land him in hot water someday.
But he trusted me.
That night, he trusted me to keep him safe. That I would keep my mouth shut. He knew the sort of person I was because if he hadn't, he'd have walked away.
James saw something inside of me.
James knew.
It would take me years before I could admit it to anyone, save Bobby.
I just didn't expect it to be happy-go-lucky Castiel.