Title : "How It All Began"
Fandom:Supernatural and Leverage
Rating: T (some language and kissing)
Summary: Dean and Eliot remember how they first got together and make decisions about where they want their relationship to go in future. Also this is sort of a prequel/sequel to my story "I Keep Your Picture".
Warnings: h/c Dean, end of Season 1 Leverage, Season 4 Supernatural. No spoilers if you've seen to the end of each of those.
Disclaimer : All characters belong to the owners and creators of the two TV shows, Leverage and Supernatural and no gain is being made out of this endeavor and no offense is intended.
Huge thanks to charlies_dragon for the awesome art that inspired this story.
How It All Began
They'd not been on the road long, Bobby still tailing them easily in his truck, Zeppelin playing, Castiel at the wheel in deference to Dean's lingering injuries. Dean had tried to object, but couldn't deny that even with the help Castiel had given him, he still wasn't completely healed and that Castiel was definitely recuperating quicker. At least Castiel had agreed to let him drive later in the day for a while. Dean wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but he missed driving the Impala. It was one of very few constants in his life, something he could rely on. If he took care of the car, the car wouldn't let him down, not like . . . Dean closed his eyes without completing the thought. When he reopened them, he turned his head to look out of the side window and changed the thought. He had people who didn't let him down, Bobby for one . . . Castiel was another, kind of, most of the time . . . He let out his breath slowly and thought of Eliot. Eliot didn't let him down. God he wished things could be different, wished that their lives could be more consistent, allow them the time to be together more often.
Dean was jerked from his reverie as Castiel cleared his throat. His eyes dropped to his lap, trying to mask the feeling of guilt at his thoughts. It was a moment or two longer before Castiel actually broke the silence and asked Dean about Eliot. Well, actually all he got as far as saying was 'Eliot' before Dean's mind was screaming 'Deflect!' Before anything else had time to occur to him, Dean recognized his first reaction and took a sharp breath, clamping his mouth shut to not let anything slip past his lips before he'd really had time to consider it. He was so used to not talking about Eliot that he wasn't sure he could even now. Even with Bobby, the one person who'd known the truth, he never really talked about Eliot, beyond asking if the older man had heard from him or knew where he was. Castiel could be like Sam, he could be single-minded and persistent . . . unless Dean hit the right tone for Castiel to back off and leave him be. Somehow he didn't think that it was going to work this time.
"You mind leaving that conversation 'til later, dude. I was thinking I might get some more sleep, you know, with you driving an' all," Dean offered by way of diversion, hoping that he'd be able to come up with another excuse later, maybe something even more convincing.
Castiel had that head tilt thing going on, Dean noticed. It just screamed disbelief at him and he felt the guilt surge up in a burst of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He turned away again, hoping that Castiel wouldn't push it. When Castiel spoke again, Dean knew he wasn't going to get away with subject avoidance this time. "I do not understand why you are not willing to talk about Eliot. You quite clearly care for him and he cares for you so. . ."
"Cas!" Dean growled, hoping the warning tone would discourage the angel.
"Fine, so tell me about how the two of you met." Dean figured that if he had to talk about Eliot at all, this was probably going to be easier than the current situation or why he was keeping things secret from Sam or . . . yeah there were plenty of things he really didn't want to talk about so if he had to talk, how they met was probably going to be one of the easier subjects to handle. He stopped fighting the inevitable and began to tell the tale of how they first met.
I was at Bobby's, you know, just me and him hanging out. I was working for him round the yard on the cars, shit like that. Dad was off on a hunt in . . . in . . .fuck! It was in Windom, just a few hours away. He hadn't wanted me with him, didn't need me there or whatever. In all these years, I always thought . . . I thought it was me, I mean it was . . . but it wasn't, it was about Adam. Dad was pissed at Sam, at me too . . . Sam was gone . . . for good, permanent-like. Dad couldn't decide whether to blame Sam or me or both of us, so I guess he went off to see Adam, the son who was gonna grow up the way he wanted him too. Fuck!
Anyway, Eliot . . . First time I saw him was at Bobby's like I said. He pulled into the yard in this clapped out motor, a disaster on wheels and it was barely on four of them. Never been so thankful for a customer as I was right then 'cos Bobby was giving me grief about some shit or other. I don't remember what but it felt like he'd going on for hours. Anyway turned out that Eliot was on the run. Some deal had gone south, had guys on his tail, but he'd thrown them off, given 'em the slip somewhere between Jacksonville and Sioux Falls. He knew no one would track him to Bobby's, he could be safe there for a while. Problem was the car he was in was barely working. The noise it made pulling in I don't know how he made it that far. Still, did the trick as far as I was concerned, Bobby turned his attention to Eliot.
Even now, Bobby insists he bring his truck in regular to be serviced by him. He's tried to teach him how to look after it himself. To be fair, he's not the disaster under the hood, Sammy is, but he's better at other stuff. Anyway, back then . . . he wanted Bobby to fix the car up, let him keep going, keep running but Bobby wasn't having it. Turned out the car wasn't his, he'd jacked it not far outside Witchita. Tried to detour his way up to Bobby's but the car wasn't up to as much as he wanted, not that it really mattered, he'd lost the tail way before then, somewhere through Alabama, changed cars a few more times since, done the whole round the houses, a little on the highway, a trek on the backroads. Should have taken him a couple of days, add in a little for the detours, the change of cars, all that maybe three days. He was on his eighth day when he got there and two and a half of them had been dragging that sad ass excuse for a car from Witchita. Bobby was furious; told him if he was jacking cars he ought to at least get one that was gonna run!
Bobby only spent ten minutes under the hood, adjusting it so at least Eliot could drive it without everyone looking his way, then told him to clean the car down, make sure there were no prints then came looking for me. He kinda insisted I go help Eliot. We spent a couple hours giving it a valet – car was cleaner than when he took it. Then Bobby sent him out to dump it, told me to follow him in the Impala and bring him back, so I did.
We took it out towards Jackson. Ironic isn't it, that if we'd driven it for another half hour, I'd have found out what my dad was really playing at. Anyway, on the way back, things were easier, you know, we started chatting in the car and Eliot suggested we stop for beers before heading back to Bobby's. It was good you know, a real opportunity to just unwind, hang out and chill, nothing more than that, just two guys in a bar hanging out. When we finally made it back to Bobby's yard, the man was raging, seriously thought he was gonna give himself a coronary. Yeah, poor guy, I can get it now, but back then, guess I was just a bit of an asshole like that, reminded me too much of my dad. Never realized he was worried we'd been picked up by the police.
Eliot grabbed a beer from the fridge before heading out to the swing seat on Bobby's porch. Bobby had been good about letting him stay, said if he wanted to hang out it wasn't a problem and he hoped that he, at least, would be back in a few days, a week tops and he was hoping to get Dean to come back too. Eliot felt better knowing that Bobby had gone with Dean and Castiel after the fiasco of the last confrontation, wished he had gone with them in a way . . . but he knew his limitations. The last thing he needed to be was a liability in a fight when he didn't know what he was doing or to be the one who split Dean's loyalties or distracted his focus. Sitting here worrying was going to give him an ulcer though if he wasn't careful. He let his mind wander back over the years he'd known Dean, remembering the first time they met.
He'd driven into the yard, something under the hood making an ungodly squeal for the last fifty or more miles, that wasn't even counting how often he'd had to stop and refill the radiator and how many prayers he'd said en route that the car would just make it a little further, just to within sight of the next town, next gas station. He hadn't been expecting to actually make it as far as Bobby's but what was one more prayer this time to say thank you rather than beg for something he didn't believe he'd get. He was surprised to see Bobby standing in the yard shouting at a young man, arms flailing in exasperation before he'd grabbed the figure by the back of the neck and pulled him forward seemingly finishing his diatribe close in, clearly hoping that the young man would take notice. Eliot wasn't sure it was having any effect, when the stranger pulled away, shaking loose of Bobby and turning toward the house. It was a bit of a surprise to see him head rapidly inside and it occurred to Eliot for the first time that perhaps Bobby had a son. Just because he'd never met one or heard Bobby say anything about one, didn't necessarily rule it out. He winced as he caught sight of the young man's face just before he turned completely and saw a black eye and bruising on his jaw. He turned his attention back to Bobby who had thrown up his arms up in despair before turning and focussing in on Eliot himself.
Bobby crossed immediately to the car and peering in, greeted Eliot gruffly. He turned his attention immediately to finding out what the problem with the car was and Eliot figured that he was out of luck in his hope that Bobby might let him stay for a few days. By the time he'd popped the hood and joined Bobby to look inside, purely because it was the right thing to do and not because he knew what he was looking for, Bobby was already prepared with a barrage of questions. Eliot didn't bother pretending and just came straight out with his explanation of the job he was running from and why, where he'd got the car and why.
Bobby gave a sad shake of his head before saying he would do enough to get him back on the road, but he wasn't going to waste time fixing up a pile of junk. Instead he sent Eliot inside to get cleaning supplies with the instruction to get Dean and for the two of them to go over the car and get rid of 'every goddamn last trace of anything that might point to Eliot'. Only sparing time for a quick 'yessir', Eliot was moving immediately for the porch to follow out his orders. He called Dean's name as soon as he was inside the door, surprised when the young man appeared almost immediately. He gave a quick explanation of the instructions. Dean just nodded and headed to the cupboard below the kitchen sink, coming back out a moment or two later with the supplies they'd need. Despite Eliot's expectation that there would be some sort of reluctance on the younger man's part to helping out, there was nothing. Dean barely said a word beyond asking Eliot to pass things he needed as he cleaned the front seating area while Eliot worked his way through the back, but he applied himself and the two of them were soon finished.
As they both climbed back out of the car, it was Dean that called across to Bobby saying they were done. Bobby crossed the yard and gave the car a quick once over as if he'd be able to tell just by looking whether there were any leftover fingerprints. He then looked appraisingly at both young men before turning to Dean and giving directions to a lake out near Jackson, checking that Dean knew the one he meant, saying it should take about two and a half hours to get there, maybe a little longer given the state of Eliot's stolen car. When he turned back, Bobby just gave Eliot the instruction to follow Dean, dump the car where and how Dean said and then to come back with him in his car. Dean was already heading back into the house in search of his own keys.
Eliot was impressed when Dean strode across to a sleek black Impala, opening the door and starting up the engine with a roar. He watched as the younger man turned the car round and then wound down the window to speak before Eliot climbed back into his car. "You alright with following me? Any problems, flash your lights and we'll pull off." He paused long enough for Eliot to agree and get himself settled in his car with the engine running before pulling across to the driveway ready to exit out onto the road.
Eliot stood by the lake, watching as the car sank slowly below the surface, Dean a silent figure at his side. The sun had set an hour before, the nearby road was silent, there hadn't been another car past in the time they'd been here. Given the circumstances, that was a good thing, even less chance of anyone seeing anything suspicious. With the car out of sight and a few stray trails of bubbles reaching up to the surface, Eliot figured it was down to him to break the silence, so he started with an apology. "Listen, dude. You know I'm sorry about dragging you out here, getting you involved in this shit, you having to help me with the cleaning an' all."
Somehow it was no surprise when Dean just shrugged and turned back to churn the mud more, hiding the tracks where the car had run down into the lake. Eliot let the matter drop, instead turning to help Dean hide their tracks. He didn't speak again until they were back in the Impala and on the road back toward Sioux Falls. "I'm sorry that your Dad . . ." he didn't get any further before Dean cast him an intimidating glare.
"What do you know about my Dad?" he spat the words out like Eliot had been about to physically attack him rather than something as mundane as apologize for Bobby getting him involved in this little excursion.
"Dean, I – I'm sorry is all, I never expected that your Dad would rope you into helping me clean up the car and then send you out to help me get rid of it! I just wanted to apologize is all."
"My Dad?" Dean's expression had changed from the intimidation to one of confusion.
"Bobby . . ." Eliot wasn't prepared for the sudden outburst of laughter that had the car swerving across the deserted road. Seriously that was about as unexpected as he could imagine and now he was the one confused.
Dean was laughing so hard, he ended up pulling the car to the side of the road to get his breath back while he regained his composure. It took a few minutes before he finally managed to get out the words, "Bobby isn't my dad, dude! What on earth made ya think he was?"
Eliot hadn't really got an answer for that, he'd just assumed, because Dean was there and young enough to be Bobby's son, although to someone who didn't know better, he figured they could use that reasoning for him being Bobby's son too. Maybe it was the argument this morning or the way Bobby pulled him close with a hand round the back of his neck. Yeah, there wasn't really a good reason beyond any of that for his assumption, but he really wasn't convinced that using any of those events and observations as an excuse now, was only going to lead to more laughter from Dean.
He was taken though, this Dean . . . this Dean was different, less insolent and arrogant, more someone he'd like to have as a friend. He looked again and realized that while he'd be happy with Dean as a friend, he'd also be interested in more, not that it was looking like anymore would ever be on offer. He shrugged off the thought and figured friends would be good, if he could get Dean not to hold a grudge about his suppositions.
Dean was calmer when he finally said, "Seriously dude, I don't know how you got there, but it's a good one. My Dad . . . yeah, he's a hunter, off on a solo job right now, didn't want me with him, so I figured hanging out at Bobby's was okay – maybe earn a few dollars for doing the odd job or at least get Bobby to teach me some more stuff. Believe me, the stuff he's taught me over the last few years – well, if nothing else, it helps keep the Impala running." Dean fell silent for a moment or two, long enough to turn the engine back on and rev it up before pulling back out on to the road. He spoke again a few moments later, "I wish my Dad was as easy to get on with as Bobby."
It was the first hint that Eliot had that there might be something wrong with Dean, something deeper lurking behind Dean's words. The moment passed though and Dean started laughing again. "I'll have to tell Bobby that one, he's gonna love it. So dude, how long you sticking around? Seriously it wouldn't do you any harm to get Bobby to teach you a few tricks for taking care of a car, man – or at least how to jack one that's gonna get you away with having everyone looking at ya as ya pass!"
He turned his head long enough to smile at Eliot and Eliot couldn't help but shrug and join in the laughter. A few minutes passed before he said, "What do you say to pulling off at a bar, grabbing a beer? Let me say thank you for your help."
"I know just the place," Dean smirked and now, Eliot noticed, the tension had eased. Dean looked more relaxed than he'd seemed since Eliot's first sight of him mid argument that morning.
They made better time heading back, Eliot tried not to look too closely at the speedometer on the Impala. Dean seemed to know the area well, and always seemed to slow down plenty before they caught sight of any patrol cars, so he took that as enough of a balm to keep his nerves quiet. The bar they stopped at wasn't that close to Bobby's, still a good hour away, but Dean seemed determined and Eliot figured it wasn't worth the fight to push for somewhere closer. If they were both too drunk to drive, he'd already seen a motel across the road and it was showing vacancies.
Eliot strode into the bar a pace or two ahead of Dean and scanned the place, taking in the other customers. It seemed an okay place, not too rough, not too 'family' to not be up to a good time. Looked like Dean had made a good choice, the guy obviously did know the area well. Dean tapped his shoulder indicating an empty booth over near the pool tables. Eliot took it in, looked like a good spot, clear view of the door, the bar, the tables and the exit to the restrooms, so with a curt nod he headed that way. They'd barely sat down when the waitress appeared, before Eliot could say a word, Dean was ordering shots and beers. When Eliot tried to object, saying he was okay with just beer, Dean's eyes flared angrily. Eliot took a calming breath, said to the waitress that the order was fine before turning back to Dean, who snapped at him, "'s alright dude, I'm not expecting you to pay! I can pay my own way!"
"Dean," Eliot started to apologize, the glare of the young man's eyes over the table was intense, almost mesmerizing. Eliot deliberately looked away across the bar to break the eye contact, before he turned back and said, "'s okay, I was just thinking of the Impala, dude. Didn't think you'd want to drive it if you'd had too many, ya know. But hey, it's okay, I can drive it back from here."
Dean's reaction was almost comical, the way he almost stumbled to his feet and headed for the door saying, "Never! You're never driving my baby!" Eliot made a brief gesture of surrender and Dean calmed again, settling himself back in his seat, just as the waitress returned with their drinks. Dean made a deliberate show of getting out his wallet and paying for the round, eyes challenging Eliot in between the flirty banter he was giving the girl.
Once the waitress had left, Dean shoved one beer and a shot glass in Eliot's direction before lifting his own shot and downing it swiftly. Eliot watched him for a moment, taking in his face in more detail. The bruising round Dean's eye was healing, looked like it was well on the mend rather than in the early stages, whereas the bruise on his jaw looked like it was still developing. Different fights or different accidents, although judging by his attitude, Eliot wouldn't be surprised by the first suggestion at all. He raised his own shot to Dean, before knocking it back, feeling the burn and relishing it for a moment.
Dean was already swigging from his beer, when Eliot looked again, took in the line of his neck, the slightly stubbled jawline and cheek, realizing it was a mask. The man opposite him was trying not to look young. His features were attractive, enough to warrant more attention than he'd necessarily want. Eliot leaned across the table and whispered harshly, "Dude, tell me you're old enough to be in here." God the last thing he needed was to have brought a kid into a bar and let him drink shots as well as beer, if the barkeep didn't find them out and beat their asses and they managed to avoid the cops on the way back then Bobby was gonna kill him and it wasn't going to be pretty.
Dean relaxed again, laughing and leant back saying in a tone that dripped with false sincerity, "Dude, I'm old enough to be in here and drinking whatever I like." Eliot shook his head and started to stand up ready to head for the door before any more trouble came his way. Seriously if the kid didn't come with him, he'd walk or maybe head for the motel over the road and then hitch back to Bobby's in the morning, grab his stuff and be on his way. He didn't need this.
Dean grabbed at his arm, pulling him back down into his seat, saying, "Quit worrying. I'm legal, twenty-two, twenty-three in a couple o' months. Stop actin' like your someone's momma, 'cause you sure ain't pretty enough to be mine and I ain't lookin' for another." There was something in his eyes that had Eliot doing what he was told and reaching for his own beer.
The kid was messing with his head that was for sure. Eliot picked up his beer and took another swig trying to settle his nerves. He was surprised when a minute or two later the waitress appeared with another round, but reached into his pocket to pay this time, knowing that from here on out, whatever happened he was just as much to blame as Dean.
He'd barely finished the second beer, when Dean was standing and heading for an empty pool table. Eliot followed, signalling to the waitress for two more beers first. She frowned and headed his way, turned out he'd yet again missed Dean's ordering of the next round. The girl was good enough to cancel the shots and stick with just beers and when Eliot gave her a sob story about Dean's girl dumping him and him trying to drown his sorrows, she gave him a sympathetic look and agreed that no matter what Dean tried to order, she'd check in with Eliot first. Feeling slightly smug, Eliot was smirking when he reached the pool table.
Dean clearly took the smirk as a challenge and promptly laid a twenty on the table as a bet. Eliot cocked an eyebrow before telling him to put it away. The kid was insistent though and so Eliot played along. It was a close game, not a complete whitewash thankfully and so Eliot felt like he'd earned the money at the end of the game, but as far as Dean was concerned that wasn't it and they were gonna play again, this time laying down thirty dollars. Eliot tried to refuse but was soon defeated and found himself playing and winning yet another game.
At the end of the second game, he signalled the waitress and turned to head back to the booth they'd been sitting in earlier, only to find Dean had hold of his arm, demanding a chance to win some of the money back. Eliot figured it was only fair, telling himself he could deliberately lose this round to even the score.
Four games later and Eliot realized he'd been well and truly hustled, as he stood back from the pool table watching the younger man wipe the table clean with a final flourish. Somehow the anger that should be there wasn't, somehow it just didn't matter. He watched Dean move gracefully round the table to line up the final shot. He took a moment to appreciate the view before looking back as the last ball dropped into its pocket and the white came to a gentle stop against the cushion. Dean stood up with an undisguised smirk on his face and Eliot just pulled a wry face in return, giving a shake of his head before laughing. As soon as the first of the laughs broke free, Dean picked up the cash they'd been playing for and split it, giving Eliot's original money back, so they were both back to square.
Eliot tilted his head in surprise, confused by the action, about to ask what exactly he thought he was doing, when Dean said, "Listen dude, you laughed, saw the funny side . . . we can be friends. I don't hustle my friends. If you'd taken it badly, I'd've kept the money. Consider yourself warned." He slapped the money into Eliot's hand and headed towards the bar where there were a couple of girls lingering waiting to get served. The bar was far busier than it had been earlier in the evening.
Eliot stood back and watched Dean start to flirt with the two girls, one a leggy blonde and the other almost as tall but with fiery red hair. He wondered for a moment what Dean was planning, when he noticed he was being waved over. He picked up his beer and wandered across to join the group, listening as Dean introduced the two girls before asking them what they wanted to drink. It didn't take long for the two girls to be cooing over how wonderful Dean was, not only for buying them drinks but for getting served so quickly because they'd apparently been trying for ages.
Eliot watched as Dean chatted to the girls, his smile wide and charming, enticing even. He shook himself free of his thoughts, figuring it was better to not follow that line for no matter what his own inclination, Dean was quite clearly interested in the girls. He looked at the girls again, more appraising this time. On an average night, with no one more appealing around, Eliot probably wouldn't have hesitated but tonight either would merely be a make-do. He glanced again at Dean, realizing just how much he'd seen of the man he'd only known a few hours; angry, sad, relaxed and seemingly happy, confused, frustrated and focussed. The girls by comparison wore plastic red lipsticked smiles and almost vacant eyes. Even now there was a welter of emotion and thought in Dean's eyes, none of which was shown in his words and actions, not even hinted at in his facial expression. Eliot half wanted to just ditch the girls and get to know Dean as a friend, even if his libido suggested friend wasn't ever going to be enough.
He edged round the girls to the bar and ordered another round for them all. God, the evening was beginning to feel interminable. . .