(A/N: Chapter 2... Okay, there was not supposed to be a Chapter 2, but I noticed that I had accidentally left this listed as In-Progress, and like Kevin in the last chapter, just couldn't leave it alone. ;) So, here you go.

And this is only happening because I looked for some Dean/Kevin on FFN, didn't find any, and decided that was a challenge. I am aware of AO3, but mostly I'm here.

Also, I expect at least one more chapter.)

Kevin moved slowly as he made his way into the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, he had an interest in food.

Sam and Dean sat at the table, about half finished with their dinners, but a third place was set, clearly meant for him, and he sank into the chair, gingerly.

He'd taken off the collar, and tried to ignore the red mark it had left on his skin.

"Hey, it lives!" Dean said sarcastically. "C'mon, Sam made lasagna. It's not too bad, either."

Kevin moved the fork that must have been hastily tossed onto the plate when it had been placed on the table, just dodging a large serving of layered noodles, sauce, and cheese.

"Thanks." He said, his voice raspy. He wasn't exactly sure what he expected to hear after his activities earlier in the day.

Sam passed him a bottle of water he hadn't yet opened. "Are you feeling okay? You're not looking too good."

Kevin took a bite of lasagna and reached for the bottle of water.

"Nah, he's fine. Right Kev?... Here..." Dean said, reaching for something at the other end of the table, and offering the serving plate to Kevin. "Breadstick?"

Kevin avoided Dean's eyes and took one, setting it down on his plate, and trying to control his face.

Dean took a bite, "Mmmmnn!... That's good stuff, Sammy, you really made up for that last round of rabbit food."

Kevin squirmed slightly at the deep sound of Dean's vocalization, wondering if Dean was making excess sounds and making a point of offering phallic food items was intentional, or if he was merely overreacting.

He made the mistake of allowing Dean to catch his eyes for a brief moment, and immediately needed to look away. He tried to focus on his meal.

"Dean's right, this is really good, Sam." Kevin said, his voice smoothed out a bit with the water.

Thankfully, Dean finished his food in record time as usual, and was soon out of the room. Not that Sam's concerned and probing looks made it any easier.

"Listen, you've been a real mess lately, and we've been worried about you." Sam said, putting his hand on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin tried not to shy away. "I'll try to remind you, but you need to make an effort, eat, sleep at normal times, maybe get a little sun. You're getting burned out fast, it's not healthy."

Kevin just nodded and crammed some more food into his mouth, hoping he wouldn't have to answer. Sam just gave his shoulder a strong squeeze, and stood up, taking his own plate and Dean's abandoned one to the sink.

The feel of Sam's hand on his shoulder only took his mind back to the feeling of Dean's hands on his hips earlier in the day.

He shook his head, now was not the time, and his own rough treatment had him sore enough that the last thing he wanted to do was get hard.

Kevin jolted as Sam spoke his name again, loudly.

"Sorry, what?"

"Are you done? I was going to put up the leftovers." Sam said, concern written on his features.

"Yeah, no, I'm good, just going to try to finish this."

"Okay, well, feel free to get the rest out of the fridge if you need it," Sam said, putting it away.

Kevin made his way down the hall, headed back to his room. Sam had disappeared a short time ago, and he hoped to make some headway on the angel tablet before bed. He wasn't expecting to run bodily into Dean as he rounded a corner.

Kevin looked up at the muscular man, thoughts of how he was moaning the other man's name earlier running through his head. Suddenly he felt as though he were part of a conversation he would rather not have.

He tried to duck around Dean, but Dean's arm, just one, wrapped around his shoulder.

"Hey, listen, I left some ointment in your nightstand where Sam wouldn't see it. A couple days of that, you should be fine. Leave it alone, though, okay?" Dean then continued to walk down the hallway, probably to the weapon storeroom.

Kevin felt confused and conflicted. This same man who had been able to be so rough with him had also taken care of him afterward, and was continuing to do so.

He went into his room and sat down at his desk, trying to block it from his mind. Try as he might, memories kept coming back. Things he had said, sounds he had made, and Dean's reaction to it all.

"Oh, my God, I called him master..." Kevin whispered to himself. This somehow felt like more of a betrayal against his rational self than the actual sex.

Kevin was still exhausted, but this time he managed a shower and pajamas before falling asleep.

A few tense days later, Kevin was in the library, up to his elbows in godly prophet business, when he heard footsteps and the jingle of keys.

"Hey," Sam said, heading for the stairs. "I'm running into town, do you need anything?"

Kevin's breath quickened, and he shook his head a little too quickly. "I'm good."

Sam nodded. "Okay, well, if you think of anything, send me a text. I'm going to stop at that barbecue joint on the way home."

The moment the door closed, Kevin shuddered.

He was alone with Dean again, for at least the next couple of hours.

He looked down the hallway, not certain how he felt about that.

They hadn't spoken about that day at all. Everything had seemed to go back to normal. It was as though it had never happened. Part of Kevin's mind entertained the possibility that it had been some kind of desperate, warped dream, but waking up with that collar still on, the ointment in the nightstand, and how well he'd eaten and slept afterward... it had to have been real.

Footsteps again. Kevin's anxiety ramped up.

Dean walked in, setting his phone, beer, and his father's journal on the same table, taking a seat across, and slightly further down the table from Kevin.

Kevin's nerves got the best of him as he reached for a book, bumping into the table, hard, knocking over what was left of Dean's beer.

Dean jumped up, grabbing his phone and the journal quickly, saving them from the liquid.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, Dean, I didn't..." Kevin started.

"It's okay, man, it's just beer. Not like I haven't been soaked in it before." Dean said, moving the items to another table before setting the bottle upright and shifting a few of the older books Kevin was using further away from the mess, and fetching a dish towel from the kitchen.

Kevin stood back, feeling sheepish and helpless. "Sorry about your shirt."

"What, this shirt?" Dean asked, gesturing to his well built torso, overplaying his actions. He took it off, and looked at the tag. "Nah, it's cotton, it won't stain."

"Dean, what are you doing?" Kevin said quietly in a quick tempoed, monotonous voice. He was having trouble taking his eyes of Dean's tattoo... among other things.

"Oh, I'm going to go throw this in the wash." Dean picked up the kitchen towel. "This too... And my jeans. Why, did you want to watch?"

"What?" Kevin squeaked.

Dean cracked up a bit. "Oh, man, it is too easy to mess with you. Relax! You'll live longer."

Dean started to leave the room.

Kevin's words left his mouth before he had time to think. "So the other day, you were just messing with me?"

Dean stopped immediately, turning to look at him. "Woah, hold on. That was not some kind of a practical joke. You needed... y'know, some help, and I was just, uh... I was trying to make you more comfortable. And you really seemed to be into it, you never once even acted like you wanted me to stop, or I would have."

Kevin stayed silent.

"Did that go too far?" Dean asked. His voice had softened considerably.

Kevin rubbed at his face. "I don't know..."

Dean walked back over to lean on the table. "That sounds an awful lot like 'yes.'"

Kevin swallowed hard. "You called me a slut."

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry... Honestly, I don't think that about you at all. It seemed like something you'd want to hear just then. The whole domination thing isn't really my cup of tea, so I'm probably not very good at it."

"I really wouldn't know, but, I guess most of it felt good." Kevin said, his voice barely a whisper.

Dean was quiet for a moment. "You, uh... healing up okay?"

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, almost back to normal. You know, this whole tablet, prophet thing, it's changing me. I don't know what to expect from my own body, even food tastes different when I can taste it at all. Stuff like, I used to hate the smell of toothpaste, now it doesn't bother me, but the bubbles in soda are just awful. It's really disorienting, and I don't know why I went along with it."

Dean put his arms around Kevin in a protective hug. "You know, it's easier to know what you don't like in the future if you give something a try, that's just how life is. I mean, this one time, I ran into this guy called The Chief, and... no, you know what, I don't want to scare you... Anyway, I've done some stuff I'm never gonna do again. And I've had some things done to me that I'm never going to allow again. And that's okay. As long as everyone is okay with it when it's actually happening."

Kevin nodded. "I think I'm okay, now."

"Good, 'cause I have to go get cleaned up, that was a lot of beer. But, if you're interested, maybe I can apologize properly. Later. If you want. Something a lot less intense." Dean started to let go.

"Um..." Sam's voice came from the doorway. They hadn't heard the bunker door. "I forgot my wallet, and... Dean, did you piss yourself? And where's your shirt?"

Dean squeezed Kevin a little tighter. "Just giving him a little strip tease, Sammy. Keep walking."