A/N: Dean is 17 in this story, and Sam is 13. This story doesn't have a happy ending.
WARNINGS: Homophobia, homophobic language, child abuse, implied sexual harassment, implied underage prostitution
Dean had somehow gotten himself invited to a high school party. The guy who was throwing it was on the football team, and was all dark hair, dark eyes, and big shoulders. Dean liked him, but the guy in question, Logan, was always surrounded by girls - hot girls, definitely - but girls, nonetheless, so he figured he didn't stand a chance with him. Besides, Dean told himself he didn't like the popular kind of kids. They were all snobby and stuck up with pathetic, rich parents who trusted them with the house all weekend.
Dean ended up drinking. Of course he did, it was a high school party, and the house was packed, loud music playing.
Sammy was probably in bed by now, and if he wasn't he was probably doing his homework. And Dad? After his first can of beer Dean didn't care much about what his dad was up to. He just hoped he wasn't getting drunk too, when Dean wasn't there for him to take his anger out on. Guilt struck him at the thought, mostly for Sam, but no. Sam would be fine. Sam had told him to go have fun.
His little brother was so sweet.
So now, Dean was deciding to have fun. He found himself dancing with people whose names he didn't even know, mostly girls, but every once in awhile a few guys would brush up against him enticingly, and Dean would shoot them a smile, raising his beer can at them in recognition.
After a few more beers the girls didn't interest him as much. He'd been with girls before, had made out with them, had been allowed to feel some of them up. They weren't what he was interested in right now.
Boys. It was all about boys.
There were a bunch of boys in the house, most of them from sports teams, so they were all nice and muscular, just like Dean liked. Well, there were a few skinny boys that Dean liked as well, but they didn't seem like they could be what he wanted.
Dean wanted someone rough, someone who could take control and let him relinquish all he was feeling. He figured that'd be difficult to find, since Dean knew he looked exactly like that kind of guy.
Eventually he found himself in the basement. There were less people down there, and the ones who were were drunk and passed out, or on their way there. Dean had yet to get fully drunk, even though he'd had a bit. He'd been drinking for a few years now, stealing from Bobby's liquor cabinet, sharing beers with his dad, so he supposed his tolerance was higher. He was tipsy. He knew that. There was a tingling in his body and his head, and he felt slightly drowsy. But he also felt his inhibitions lowering.
So when Dean ran into this one blond guy he recognized from his algebra class, Jeremy, he found himself winking at him. Jeremy looked a little startled, but then he started blushing. It was a good look for him, especially since his cheekbones were prominent, no longer filled out with baby fat. He was a year older than Dean, but had stayed back a year, not because he was stupid, or anything. Dean heard that he had family trouble, so while his family was a different kind of screwed up, he could still relate.
"Hey," Dean said with a friendly nod.
"Hey, yourself."
Dean sidled closer and leaned one hand against the wall, trying to jut out his hip and present his body to him as much as he could. He knew he was hot. How could he not be? All the comments he got from various hunters when he was alone let him know he was, all the people he'd managed to get money from over the past couple months made that obvious. So why not use it?
"You come to this party with anyone?" he asked.
Dean didn't worry about having to play it cool, didn't worry that he might get rejected. He wasn't even sure what he was searching for. Just wanted to have a bit of fun.
"Nope. Just me," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the floor.
"So that means I won't be taking you from anyone?" he questioned, lowering his voice.
"Dean, look - it is Dean, right?" Once he nodded Jeremy went on, "I think you're cute. I really do, but…"
"But what?" he asked, his hopes falling. Already he was now looking past Jeremy at another boy, a senior he'd seen feeling up another guy in the hallway when he thought no one was looking. He had dark curls that were cut short, blue eyes…
Jeremy's voice drew him back to the conversation:
"But my parents'll kill me."
"My dad would totally kill me," Dean joked, giving Jeremy a smile to try and ease his nerves. "But they don't have to know."
"You sure?"
Dean grabbed Jeremy's shoulder and pulled him closer, whispering in his ear. "You see any parents around here?"
As an answer Jeremy kissed him. His pink lips were soft against his, and he really knew how to kiss. But instead of being the one taking charge, Dean found that he had to. He didn't like it much, was getting bored, found that it was too much work.
He didn't have to say anything because Jeremy pulled away, glanced nervously at the other kids in the room, though they were too drunk to notice two boys had just kissed right in front of them, and then ran up the stairs.
Dean lowered his head with a groan.
So that had been a miss.
Whatever, he could try his luck with someone else.
Next he tried the senior, and that went well for Dean. They ended up in a bathroom, the older boy lifting Dean up onto the counter, getting in between his legs, fingers warm and bruising against his skin. He couldn't even remember the boy's name. Was it Zach? Yeah, he though it might've been Zach.
Zach pulled back, giving Dean time to breathe, and his body felt so hot and hard against his. Dean found himself pushing his hips into him. Zach did the same, letting out a low groan.
"We can't," he told Dean.
"I know, but we can still have some fun."
Zach brushed his cheek with a finger, making his skin tingle, and Dean found himself mesmerized with his big, blue eyes.
"Funny, I never took you for the type."
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't know you liked boys. I always see you with some girl."
"I like girls, too," Dean answered, blushing as he admitted it. These were things he never told anyone, not even Sam, not even really himself. But he was tipsy. He didn't much care at the moment.
"What if I told you that I was free tomorrow night?"
"I'd tell you that my dad would kill me for going out again, but that I'm sure I could sneak out. What did you have in mind?"
"Video games at my place? My parents are going out on date night, dinner and a movie, so they won't be back for awhile."
Dean didn't know why he did it, maybe it was the beer buzzing through his system, lowering his inhibitions, his care about hiding himself, but he accepted.
Dean found himself winking occasionally at some other boys he saw, even knew their names: Ryan, Chris, Justin. They all blushed, and then Zach would laugh, and pull Dean away, telling him that he needed to sober up.
Neither of them did, instead had more to drink since they'd managed to find a bottle of wine.
Dean was out in the front lawn, sitting on the stone path, Zach's arm around him, lips against his ear, whispering random things to him, when a very familiar car pulled up. It was the Impala.
Dean's heart leapt into his throat as his dad climbed out. Some kids laughed at seeing an adult there, too inebriated to realize they might be in trouble, others jumped back, some held each other and pointed.
Dean tried to pull himself away from Zach, who had yet to notice the commotion, but his movements were too sluggish, and Zach just pulled him closer, asking him where he was going, even calling him baby.
"Dad, I can explain!" Dean cried out as his father stomped over to him, boots flattening the manicured lawn.
His dad ignored him, grabbed him by the jacket, and dragged him over to the Impala so he could slam him against it. His breath had the sour stench of alcohol, and his eyes were dark, the pupils dilated.
Zach was up off the ground now, trying to go over to Dean. Dean looked away from his dad for a quick moment to shoot him a warning look.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled at him.
"P-partying?" Dean said, a question in his voice, hoping his dad wasn't drunk enough to hit him.
"No. What are you doing with a boy?"
"N-n-nothing," Dean stuttered out, shame filling his stomach, making him sick. It worked its way through his body till he was weak and trembly, and he began to regret everything he'd done that night.
"I had to leave Sam all alone to pick up your sorry ass, and I find you huddled up with some faggot like you're his girlfriend."
"Dad, i-it's not what it looks like!"
John slammed him against the Impala again, bruising Dean's shoulders, his head whacking against the window with a sharp crack. Dean cried out, Zach came over, trying to pry his arm off of him.
John turned and shoved him to the ground, yelling, "You stay away from my boy!" Then his anger was back on Dean. "No son of mine is gonna take it up the ass. Get in the car!"
Dean gave Zach a look, and John's hand clenched into a fist. Dean flinched back, and turned away from the boy he had really wanted to go on a date with tomorrow night. Tears in his eyes, he got in the Impala.
Dean was silent the whole way back to the motel, the air crackling with tension, with heat and fury. He hoped his dad didn't know how hurt he was from all this. It felt like part of his heart had broken, felt like he wasn't loved, wasn't accepted.
At the moment, Dean just wanted to crawl in bed with Sam, hold his brother close like they used to when they were younger, and pretend everything was fine, pretend that he was normal, that he only liked girls. Dean supposed this meant he was going to have to chase them even harder so his dad would think his messing around with boys was over with.
John slammed the door when they entered the motel, and he glared at Dean until he went and sat on the bed he shared with Sam. Sam was sitting up, a lamp on, staring at Dean curiously.
"You watch your brother now," he told him, pointing a finger. "I have to go work."
With that he left, and that was when Dean let a tear fall, his throat aching.
He wiped it away before Sam could see.
"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell him where you were. He just… He started yelling, and he was so angry, and-and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"
His brother was hugging him from behind, head pressed against his back, and Dean turned, pulling him into his arms.
"It's okay, Sammy. It's okay. I ain't mad at you."
Dean couldn't be mad at him. Sam had done what he'd had to to stay safe, and he'd had to do it because Dean wasn't there to protect him. In going to a party, in drinking, in spending his time with boys, he'd let his family down.
Dean wouldn't let it happen again.