Title: Rough Trade 4/10
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:
Warnings: Consensual Daddycest
Disclaimer: If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

Summary: When he met a guy named John in a bar, all Dean knew was the he reminded him of his Dad. Scarred, both mentally and physically, John obviously needed saving as much as he did. So when he gave the man his street name and suggested a 'mutually beneficial' relationship, he never dreamed that three weeks later he'd find out that John actually was his father.

A/N: This was writen for the spnslashbigbang. Thanks to the longsuffering and extra awesome wickedlilwitch for being an amazing beta and the very cool longerthanwedo who agreed to be my secondary beta, even though I often edit again/add things after they work their magic. All mistakes are mine. Chapter title taken from All I Want Is You by by Michael Franti.

Chapter Three: Fools Count Their Problems

"That kid's 17 my ass," Bobby groused with a shake of his head, nose still buried in a book that looked about an inch from turning to dust in his hands.

John leaned casually against the wall next to his friend's desk. Bobby's bark was a lot worse than his bite as long as you weren't a supernatural creature, and John was one of the few people that had never been afraid of the man. Still, he wasn't as relaxed as he seemed. He'd already known that Bobby wasn't going to like his relationship with Devon and as much as it pained him to admit, the older hunter's opinion of him actually mattered. It didn't help that Bobby's words were an echo of his own not too long ago. "I checked out his name, Singer. He disappeared a few years back from his foster home. Been on the streets tryin' to survive since."

"If that's his real name."

John sighed. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of that. "He's got no reason to lie now. I talked to him about it while I was out with the car. Poor kid got all rattled. I don't know everything that happened to him, but I believe him. Devon Waters was put in the system after his parents were killed in an accident that he survived. Kid just looks a little younger than he is. Probably a blessin' and a curse. Sit down and talk to him, and you'll swear you're talkin' to a thirty year old."

"That how you justify havin' sex with him, Winchester?" Bobby leveled him with a hard look over his glasses.

John gritted his teeth. Bobby was too damn perceptive. Not that he was planning on hiding his relationship with Devon from anyone, including Sammy, but he didn't like being made out to look like some sort of fucking child molester. "You think I held him down and forced myself on him?"

Bobby sighed. "No."

"You think I'm just gonna keep him around like a god damned sex toy?"

"Never said that."

"Then what he and I do is none of your damned business."

Bobby huffed out a breath. "Don't call me when you get your ass thrown in jail for statutory rape, Winchester."

John disregarded that… Devon would only be underage for another couple of months anyway. For someone used to spending years under the radar, a couple of months shouldn't be too big a deal. "About that... we kinda need papers for the kid. Need somethin' sayin' he's my son so he can take some classes."

"Jeezuz, Winchester... ain' you got no shame?"

John smirked at his old friend. "Well, no, not really."

John came out of Bobby's office expecting to find Devon waiting for him, but found no trace of him on the first floor. Sammy was sitting in front of Bobby's ancient television in the living room, pointedly ignoring John's presence. "Sammy? Where's Devon?"

Sammy looked up at him from underneath a mop of too long and unruly hair, brow furrowed in a scowl. "In the bathroom. Is he really coming with us?"

"Yes, he is," John said with the futile hope that his stubborn son would let it go at that. But really, he should know better by now.

"Why?" That was Sam's favorite question and he asked it as often as he possibly could. How was it that one word could annoy him so much?

John pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to be silent for a few seconds, enough time to answer calmly rather than with the sarcasm that he was so prone to when he was irritated. "He doesn't have anywhere to live. We're just gonna help him get on his feet."

"And then he's leaving?"

"If he wants," John said as he crossed his arms, not comfortable at all with the thought of Devon ever leaving.

Sam rolled his eyes, folded his arms and went back to glaring at the television. "It's not like we really have somewhere to live."

John sighed. He'd been working on the Impala all day out in the cold and all he wanted was a hot shower, a cold beer, and a bed. Was that really too much to ask for? He was much too tired right now for the mental stamina that arguments with Sammy usually required. "Well, even when we gotta sleep in the car that's still a damn site better then under a bridge or on a park bench, kiddo. Unless you wanna actually try sleepin' on a park bench so you can have all the necessary data to compare. I could drop you off… let you spend a few nights."

Sam briefly redirected his glare at him, but said nothing. He took that as a victory, however temporary, and went upstairs to check on Devon. There was no answer when he knocked on the closed door at first, and John started to get worried. He tried the handle but found it locked.

"Devon? Can you hear me?" Still nothing. After the way the kid had been on the edge of falling completely apart before in the yard, John was more than a little worried. What if the boy had done something to himself? "Answer me, or I'm breakin' down the door."

"I just… I need a few minutes, okay?"

John let out a sigh of relief. The kid sounded shaky, but at least he was responding now. "Yeah. I was just… You been in there a while and when you didn't answer… you sure you're okay?"

Devon finally opened the door, looking pale, his eyes red rimmed. John put his hand on his forehead and the boy leaned into his touch. "You feel a little clammy. Upset stomach?"

The boy shrugged. "Just… not feelin' well."

"Somethin' you ate?"

Devon shook his head. "Don't think so."

"Are you… are you upset about the things we talked about earlier? About your past?" Something about the way Devon wouldn't look at him and didn't answer let John know that he was right. The kid wasn't sick because of anything physical. He'd tied himself up into knots stressing out over shit. John pulled the boy into a hug and rubbed his back. "You're safe with me now. None of that shit matters anymore."

"You sure you wanna do this? Wanna take me with you? I probably shouldn't be around your kid."

"You're not plannin' on bringin' strange men home, are ya?"

Devon snorted softly. "No."

"Then it'll be fine. You're not some dirty little secret that needs to be hidden away from polite society. 'Sides, in case you haven't noticed, we ain't exactly polite society anyway." John pulled away enough to look at Devon's face. The boy was frowning like something was still worrying him. John sighed. One talk wasn't going to erase years of abuse. He smoothed out the creases in the boy's forehead with his thumb.

"I still want you," the boy said, sounding surprised and frightened as he looked up at John with big, liquid eyes.

Desire pooled in John's gut and he groaned softly as his mouth went dry. "That's really good to hear, since I still want you too."

"Yeah?" The boy still sounded a little shell-shocked, but now a note of hopefulness was in his voice too.

"Yeah."

Devon bit his lip and looked out into the hall before pulling John into the bathroom. John closed the door and locked it before taking the boy in his arms again and kissing him. This was probably the stupidest, most reckless thing he'd ever done in his life. Well… outside of a hunt. It would serve him right if he found Bobby on the other side of the door with his shotgun after this.

"Please," Devon whispered into his mouth, and thoughts of anything outside the room faded into nothing. "Need you… please…"

"Shhh…" John kissed him again, gently. He hoped allowing this relationship to be sexual wasn't the wrong thing to do. This kid was so damaged, and his self-esteem was so bound up with his sexuality, that he wasn't sure which would do it more harm - giving sex or denying it. On the one hand, giving him sex could reinforce the idea that his body was the only thing anyone cared about. On the other, all he'd feel was rejection if John refused him. He wouldn't understand John's reasoning, wouldn't care about the nuances. Through it all, John wasn't entirely convinced that he wasn't making excuses for his apparent inability to resist. The boy was so desperate though, pressing against him and moaning into the kiss. And John wanted this so badly he could barely think, so badly that he was just as desperate as Devon and he couldn't even begin to sort out the right and wrong of it objectively.

He unzipped the boy's pants so he could reach inside to pull out his hard cock with a firm grasp and slowly stroked it, using the boy's own precum as lubrication. Devon whimpered and melted against him in a way that only made John harder, more desperate. He felt Devon's hand cupping him, quickly finding and pressing against the head of his cock through his jeans. He groaned against the boy's mouth, deepening the kiss and swallowing as much of the noise the kid was making as possible. Bobby was so going to shoot him. That was the last coherent thought he had as Devon's nails raked over the head of his cock through his jeans.

He felt nimble fingers open his fly and grasp his cock. It was hard to think of this as wrong with how right it felt to stand here tasting and smelling and feeling this boy, listening to him whimper and beg so pretty, wanting him so badly it felt a lot like need. Something he hadn't felt in so many years that it felt brand new and overwhelming and irresistible. John felt the boy go stiff an instant before he was coming. Devon went lax, head lolling against John's shoulder, as he continued to jack John off. John wrapped his hand around Devon's, the boy's cum lubricating the hand job as their fingers intertwined.

"Come on, John. Cum for me," Devon whispered against his neck as he began to lick and kiss at John's sweaty skin, his hot breath sending shivers down John's spine. John pulled Devon's head back with his free hand and bit the boy's neck at the spot where it curved into his shoulder as he came.

John held the boy close and kissed him again. "We need to clean up."

Devon snorted. "Yeah. I don't think we can go downstairs like this."

When John left the bathroom, Devon in tow, he was pretty sure that Sam had some idea of what they had been up to from the look the boy gave them. John had never seen an eleven year old look so scandalized in his life. Bobby waiting on the other side of the bathroom door with a loaded sawed-off suddenly seemed preferable.

"Devon, why don't you go get somethin' to eat?"

Devon raised his eyebrows hopefully. "I can do that?" He seemed shocked at the idea that he could just go get food when he wanted to.

"Sure. As long as you don't make a mess and you clean up after yourself." The kid was gone before he finished his sentence. When he could see through the vapor trail the boy laid down on his way to the food again - and why did he think he'd come to regret giving the boy carte blanche with the fridge? - he turned to face his son, arms held out. "Okay… hit me."

Sam frowned at him like John was an idiot. "What?"

"You got something to say. Just say it so we can get this over with."

"Is he even legal?"

John cocked his head at the boy. He hadn't expected him to take that route. "Depends on what you call legal. He's above the age of consent, although that's usually only for someone within five years of his age, depending on the state. But he'll be eighteen in about a month."

"So… you're having sex with some underage street kid?"

John sighed. Nobody could make the truth sound as ugly as Sammy could. "Yeah. But that's not why we're givin' him a place to stay and helpin' him get his life together. I was gonna do that anyway. The… the sex came after my decision to help him." John stumbled on the word 'sex.' This was even harder than having the whole sex, condoms and respect talk with the boy, and that was saying one hell of a lot. The entire time, Sammy had just sat there and stared at him like he couldn't believe that John was saying those things to him. Like the whole ordeal was injuring the boy's delicate sensibilities. "And yeah, it's unconventional and a lot of people would say it's wrong. I already explained to you about attraction, and how the only thing that matters in a relationship is that the two people in it want the relationship and that they're both mature enough to handle it."

"But he's a teenager! How could he possibly be mature enough? You're old enough to be his father."

John grit his teeth. He was sure that once Devon got on his feet and realized that he was gorgeous and smart enough to have several options, he'd dump John's ancient carcass. He really didn't need Sammy pointing that out for him. "While it's true that I'm old enough to be his father, I thought this through and I talked it out with Devon. He's been on his own for a few years and he can make his own decisions. You're objections have been duly noted, but what Devon and I choose to do is between the two of us. You don't get a vote in the matter of my sex life, Sammy."

"That's not fair!"

He huffed out a slightly amused breath "Life's not fair. Get over it."

"But since when are you gay?" Sammy was clearly not ready to drop the argument, and John had to admit it was a valid point. He'd always been open with his son about sex and sexuality and he was sure that from all that they'd discussed, the kid knew for certain that he'd never been attracted to men before. "Was Mom a beard?"

John frowned at the boy. He wasn't sure what was more disturbing… that the kid actually knew what a beard was in that sense, or that he really thought John would do something like that. "I don't even know what to say to that, Sam. I loved your mother. She wasn't… she was never anything less than the one person on earth I wanted to spend my life with. And no… I'm not… I'm not gay."

"In case you haven't noticed, Devon's a boy. Despite the slightly girly sounding name."

"Yes, Sammy. I noticed." John sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. He'd known this wouldn't be easy, but he'd clearly underestimated how hard it would be. This whole situation was going to be a hard sell with Sammy. But he couldn't just abandon Devon, not now when the kid finally seemed to think things were looking up for him. And after how intense things were in the bathroom not ten minutes ago, John was sure that he wouldn't really be able to keep his hands to himself. Trying to hide it wouldn't work with a kid as perceptive as Sammy and thinking that John was ashamed of him would probably be bad for Devon. How the hell did John get himself into these situations? "Sometimes… sometimes things don't fit into neat categories. Life is messy and you end up in situations or relationships you never thought you would. That doesn't make it wrong, or invalidate everything else that came before. What's goin' on between me and Devon doesn't reflect at all on what I had with your mother. I can't explain to you why I'm attracted to him, it took me by surprise too. It just… is what it is." And God, was it just him, or was he fucking drowning here?

Sammy rolled his eyes, clearly thinking John had finally gone around that bend that he'd been threatening to for the past eleven years. "You don't even know where he's been!"

Who knows… maybe the kid was right. This whole thing with Devon did feel an awful lot like insanity. But it was also the first time that he didn't feel like a goddamn block of ice since the fire. It had been a long time, and he'd forgotten how good it felt to actually want someone this badly, to feel this much for another person. And even if it did make him a stupid selfish bastard, he didn't want to go back to being dead inside. John sighed and sank onto the arm of the couch. "I have a pretty fair idea. And just like I expect you to when you decide to have a sexual relationship with someone, we visited a clinic and got tested. That is the last time I expect you to bring that up. Am I clear Sammy?" The boy huffed out an angry breath. "Samuel, am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

John sighed at Sammy's sarcastic tone. It had always been his goal to make sure that his only remaining son grew up fast so he could fend for himself sooner rather than later, but he wasn't sure this side effect was worth it. "Good. Devon's been through a lot, and I'm not gonna have you torturing him because things happened to him that he couldn't control."

"Yeah. I know all about things happening that you can't control," Sammy said sullenly as he returned his attention to the television, effectively dismissing him.

"Then you should be able to relate, shouldn't you?"

Silence. And John left the room feeling like the universe was somehow out of balance. He'd gotten two victories with his son in one day. No doubt, Sam would find a way to make him pay dearly for each one.

Dean was stressed out. He'd been studying for five hours straight. Sammy was a worse slave driver then John on a bad day, and that was saying a lot. The kid didn't hide the fact that he had no use for him, and Dean couldn't say he blamed him. He was a retired prostitute and John's current live-in piece of ass. That would probably be enough to make any kid like Sammy resentful. But while Dean didn't fault the kid for his attitude towards 'Devon,' he hated the way he treated John. The man was obviously killing himself trying to keep food on the table and keep Sammy safe in a world that Dean knew from firsthand experience was dangerous and unforgiving. And now he was taking on that burden for Dean as well. He refused to let Dean help with his scams, insisting that Dean spend his time preparing to get his GED and learning how to use the weapons. Then he was going to make sure that Dean found a real job. John was a good man, and a real life hero to boot. He didn't deserve the way Sammy treated him.

Dean sighed in relief when Sammy finally let him go for the day. He left the kitchen to find John sprawled out on the couch in front of the television. A thrill of fear curled its way up his spine as he recalled the moment he realized that John was his father.

They'd pulled up behind the Impala and Sammy had come running out of the house, the long absence making him momentarily happy to see his father again. Sammy and the car jogged something loose in Dean's memory and he stared at John for a long moment. He didn't know how he'd missed it. The beard was new, and he wasn't quite as imposing and bearlike as he'd seemed when Dean was four, but there was no denying it now that he was looking for it. The fact was clinched when Bobby Singer walked out bellowing 'Winchester.' That had been Dean's last name, the name the man that stole him told him never to tell anyone. A little subtle probing revealed that the name of John's firstborn son was Dean, and he'd died on All Hollow's Eve at the age of four when Sam was six months old. All the pieces fit.

After introductions were made, Dean sat out in the yard with John, watching him work on the Impala, feeling like he was stuck in some nightmare version of déjà vu. His most vivid memories of his father were when he was watching him work on the car and singing along with the music. John asked him questions about his past, about his real name. Dean fed him Devon's history on autopilot as he slowly fell apart. He was fucking his own father. If there was ever any doubt that he was a slut, that pretty much killed it. He was fucking his own father and if he ever told the truth, John would toss him out like yesterday's trash. Who wouldn't be disgusted by that?

And what if the yellow-eyed man found out that he was with his family again? Would he come kill Sammy, like he promised? Sure, Sammy seemed like a bit of a jerk, but he was still Sammy and it was still his job to watch out for him.

The worst part, though, was the moment he realized that the wife John'd been talking about, the one he'd lost in a fire, was his mother. Dean had survived the fire that John thought he'd died in, but Mary hadn't because John had seen her burning. Dean would never see his mother again. Never sit in the kitchen and watch her bake. Never listen to Dad tease her that it was a good thing she made such good pie since she was a disaster at cooking anything else, never hear her tease him that she wasn't going to feed him if that's what he thought of her cooking. Never hug her again; never smell that mix of perfume and shampoo that surrounded her. As long as he hadn't known where she was, there had been hope. But now… Something just broke in him as the reality that she was lost to him forever hit home and his meltdown suddenly picked up steam until he was an inch away from a full on panic attack.

John told him they didn't have to talk about it anymore and asked if he was alright. Dean had shot to his feet and asked if he could take a leak. He needed to be alone, needed to be away from John and the car and Sammy and all his memories of the past and all the reminders of what a fuck up he was. John led him inside the house and directed him to the bathroom. Dean took the stairs two at a time and locked the door behind him. He cried with his hand clamped over his mouth until he made himself sick, then he threw up until he had nothing left in his stomach. He flushed the toilet and rinsed out his mouth, but he still couldn't go out there. He sat on the floor in the corner, trying to figure out what he was going to do. That's when John had arrived and Dean realized that he still wanted him. And wasn't that just the most fucked up thing ever? John held him like he was important and spoke to him so… kindly. He didn't even want to imagine what that kindness would turn into if John learned the truth. So he'd decided that the truth could do nothing but mess all this up. Since messing this up was the last thing he ever wanted to do, that meant the truth could never come out.

Dean pulled himself out of his memories and crossed the room to sit on the couch next to John, molding himself against the older, larger man's side. John shifted to accommodate him and wrapped one arm around him, fingers absently carding through his hair. Dean sighed contentedly as he slid a hand underneath John's t-shirt and slowly ran his fingers through the hair on John's chest and stomach.

"Your kid's a freaking sadist," Dean finally said after several minutes of comfortable silence.

John snorted. "Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"Hmm… I find your body hair incredibly sexy?" Dean tugged playfully at several strands underneath John's belly button as he tilted his head back to look up at John.

John bent his head down for a kiss as he cupped Dean's ass. Dean smiled into the kiss, fingers of his free hand slipping into John's silky hair and fisting around a handful of it, careful not to actually pull. He teased the older man's belly button and he felt muscles flutter under his fingers.

"Dad, could you not do that in the living room?" Dean felt John go still at the grating sound of Sam's voice.

"What's a matter Sammy," he asked his little brother. "Me 'n' Daddy're just… gettin' to know one another."

John buried his face against Dean's shoulder, snickering.

"Dad!"

"What, Sammy? I'm not gonna hide in my own house."

"So I have to watch this?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, relax. It's just a little makin' out. We both still got our clothes on and everything."

Sam huffed out a breath and stomped back to his room, slamming the door shut.

"Shit…"

"What? We're not gonna kiss at all in front of him? He knows what we do in your room. Or at least he has a general idea."

"Our room. It's our room. And it's just a little hard on him. He's never seen me with anybody."

"Really? Never?"

John shook his head. "He was a baby when Mary died. Since then, there hasn't been anybody else. I'm not the… fleeting relationship type, and the few times I've been with someone else, it wasn't something I'd bring into my regular life."

Dean swallowed hard. He wanted to ask why him… what was different about him, but he couldn't. He didn't know if he could handle hearing the wrong answer. Wasn't even sure he knew what the right answer was. "Yeah, well, this is officially the longest running relationship I've ever had. If by relationship you mean something I want too." He straddled John's lap. "He'll get used to it. I mean… if you want him to."

John leaned against the back of the couch and rubbed Dean's thigh. "Yeah… I want him to."

Dean smiled and kissed him, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. Now that was a right answer.

If he wasn't hitting the books with Sammy and the tutors John hired, he was learning to hunt. Dean's body was changing from scrawny, half starved street kid to heavily muscled teenager who looked like he could take care of himself. He even grew three inches. He had no idea that he could get this much bulk and muscle definition at fifteen, though it was a good thing that he could. It made the lie about him being seventeen a lot more believable. And people were a lot less likely to question his age now. He still had the baby face, but his body no longer matched. He also learned that he had a natural aptitude for guns and hand-to-hand combat. He thrived on praise from John, who didn't exactly give it freely but that just made it all the more special. The sparing and other training often led to really hot sex too. So as far as Dean was concerned it was all win/win.

Today, John was teaching him to shoot with a sniper rifle. John had his arms wrapped around him, manhandling him into the proper stance and grip. There was something about being manhandled by his father that turned him on faster than anything else. Dean leaned back against John's chest and felt John's hard on pressing against his ass.

John adjusted his stance behind him, putting more distance between their bodies. "Devon…"

Dean pressed against him again. "Daddy."

He heard Sam huff from somewhere behind them. "Just get a freaking room already!"

The thing was, Sam was right. They wouldn't be able to concentrate unless they let off some steam. They were both already hard. Dean looked at Sam hopefully over John's shoulder – and how cool was it that he could actually see over John's shoulder now?

Sam huffed out another breath. "Fine! I'm gonna go take a whiz. A nice twenty minute long whiz," he intoned as he stomped off into the underbrush and out of sight.

Dean smirked. "I got lube in my pocket, Daddy."