Chapter 9 - Thanks for the kind reviews, my gutter-neighbors. Thanks for coming to play in my gutter! (Anon reviews allowed always - don't be shy!)
Two Years Later...
Dean pushed the egg around on his plate, unable to force himself to eat it. He felt Frankie's eyes on him, but decided if he ignored it, it might go away.
"So you still haven't heard from your dad?" Frankie asked in his gentle voice. So much for 'it' going away. Dean shook his head.
"It isn't the first time he's been out of contact," Frankie pointed out.
"He's on a hunt," Dean replied, trailing a design through his egg. "Dad's never out of touch this long on a hunt. I don't like it."
"Well...you could use it to your advantage."
Dean's eyes snapped up. "What do you mean?"
Frankie leaned on the table, twirling his coffee mug between those huge hands. "Well, it just occurred to me, if you're worried about your dad disappearing, your brother might be worried too."
Dean snorted at Frankie. "He'd have to know about it first."
Frankie nodded slowly. "That's why you should go tell him. And ask Sam to help you look for your dad."
He shoved his plate away as his stomach lurched dangerously. "You've got to be kidding. Sam would probably slam the door in my face." Dean glared at Frankie. "Especially since I want to look for Dad."
Frankie took a long sip of coffee. "It's been what? Almost four years? Things change. Maybe Sam has, too." When Frankie leveled those blue eyes on Dean, he knew he was going to cave. "At least give him a chance, Dean. It's only a side-trip anyway."
"What's only a side-trip?" Dean asked carefully.
"Stanford." Frankie's head tilted to one side. "You are planning to look for your dad anyway, right?"
He sighed. "Am I that obvious?"
Frankie ran a hand over his shoulder and up his neck. "Yeah, you are." He got a warm kiss on the cheek. "And you're gorgeous too."
This sounded promising. "Gorgeous, huh?" Dean grinned. He ran a hand up Frankie's thigh as he pressed his lips against his lover's jaw. "So you're okay with this?"
"This?" Frankie asked, one hand gripping the back of Dean's head.
Dean suckled along Frankie's jaw and halfway down his neck before replying, "Leaving."
Frankie was breathing heavier and leaning towards him. "Gotta work," he said softly.
"Shit," Steve snapped from the kitchen doorway. "Can't you two keep it in the bedroom?"
Frankie sighed as he shifted away. "Dean's leaving soon." Those striking blue eyes met Dean's. "Tomorrow?"
Dean nodded, agreeing to stay the day.
"Your dad call with a new job?" Steve asked as he grabbed a clean coffee mug.
"No." Dean cleared his throat. "I haven't heard from him. That's why I'm going."
Steve spun around. He hesitated before sitting at the table. "You don't think he's..." his voice trailed off.
"He's fine," Dean snapped, eyes boring into Steve. "I just haven't heard from him."
"He could be stuck outside of cell coverage on a job," Frankie cut in. "Dean's planning to head for the wilderness park where John was working and track him, to be sure he doesn't need help."
Steve nodded quickly. "Sounds good. I'd do the same thing."
Dean had a few replies for that too, but Frankie's hand found his knee and squeezed. "You're working today, right?" he asked instead.
Steve rolled his eyes. "Like I'd be anywhere within a ten mile radius of this house today. Don't worry about me. I'm out of here right after breakfast."
Steve took another sip of coffee. Dean waited, but he didn't make a move from the table. "I don't see you eating."
Steve's eyes widened as his mug lowered. His eyes darted over to Frankie briefly. "You know," he said as he stood up, "I'm not all that hungry. I think I'll just take my coffee and go. Someplace." He rushed out of the kitchen.
"It's a good thing I like him," Dean said as he turned back to face Frankie.
"Could have fooled me," Frankie said with a chuckle.
"He's still breathing, isn't he?" Dean leaned over to resume his interrupted task, laying a wet trail on warm skin.
"Good point," Frankie breathed out. "Is he gone yet?"
Dean paused to listen. He heard Steve's car door slam followed by the Civic starting. "Yeah, he's gone." He returned to his duties.
"All day?" Frankie asked plaintively.
Dean glanced up with his best smirk. "Better believe it. Don't know how long this is going to take."
He worked Frankie's buttons open as he kissed and suckled his way down, taking his time, enjoying this while he could. He pushed his worries over Dad, and anxiety over how Sam would react to seeing him again, to the back of his mind. The shirt open, Dean ran his hands over the broad chest, admiring the definition and enjoying the skin under his hands. He pushed the shirt off Frankie's shoulders as he straddled his lover's lap.
"What's first?" he asked, grinding down on Frankie's hard crotch. "Here? Bedroom? Shower?"
Frankie grinned his huge smile and his sparkling blue eyes smiled with him. "You know, it's been a long time since you stripped for me."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Always trying to embarrass me, aren't you?"
"C'mon, Dean." Frankie nibbled under his jaw, working along toward his ear. "You might be gone for a while. I'll need some fresh phone material."
Dean groaned under the sweet assault. "Fine, but we're doing it my way this time," he said as he stood up.
Frankie followed him into the den. "But you always use your music."
"Don't sit down!" Dean barked without turning around as he focused on the cassette player. Thanks to Frankie's outdated stereo system, he had doubled his car tape collection. Now Bad Company's Feel Like Making Love poured into the room. Dean's idea of stripping was to strip Frankie first. He peeled off the open shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch. Frankie's pants followed. He took his time with the underwear, sliding them over wide firm hips, then down toned muscular legs. Without warning, Dean sprang to his feet and shoved Frankie into the couch. Frankie landed with legs sprawled and a shocked look.
Dean grinned as he slipped his shirt off over his head. By the time he could see Frankie again, the big guy had a pleased grin and eyes only for Dean, which was how it was supposed to be. He shimmied out of his pants and shorts at the same time, singing along with the chorus. Frankie's cock stood at attention, curving slightly toward his firm stomach. The song ended with Dean still moving to the music, putting himself on display for Frankie.
He rushed over to run the tape back, starting the song over again.
"Now for the fun part," Dean announced. "Ready?"
"Always," Frankie said, running those huge hands up Dean's hips. Dean straddled him, lowered himself slowly until Frankie was halfway in. Then he sank down all the way, capturing Frankie's mouth with his. Frankie shifted down on the sofa until Dean could ride him effectively. Hands on Frankie's shoulders Dean still moved in sync with the song, singing the lyrics until Frankie shut him up with one of his world-stopping kisses.
Next thing he knew, one of Frankie's big hands was on his cock while the other was on his ass encouraging him to keep moving. Dean thrust up into Frankie's hand then back down on Frankie. Damn, life just didn't get better than this. When Dean was panting pretty well, Frankie wrapped his arms behind his back, holding him down by the shoulders. Frankie rocked them back and forth. Dean joined the rocking and relished the pleasure coming over him. He felt the orgasm building and Dean pressed his forehead against Frankie's shoulder, rocking them faster and faster. Frankie's hands gripped his ass, holding him tight as it built higher and higher, they rocked harder and faster.
He couldn't see or think, just cling tighter as they rocked. Next thing he knew, he was on his back while Frankie pumped into him. Both legs wrapped around Frankie's back, slick with sweat. Dean met Frankie's thrusts as his hands tried to find some place to hang onto on the slick skin.
"You're there, babe," Frankie panted next to his ear. "Let go."
The feeling washed over him, filling his senses with just Frankie. His insides pulsed and Frankie was making those funny faces. He grabbed Frankie's head, pulled him down to attack his mouth while digging his heels into Frankie's hard ass, forcing him to reach climax. Frankie moaned into his mouth as he drained the penis inside him. Their mouths broke apart with a sigh of contentment. Frankie spread out over him, burying his face in Dean's neck.
"I miss you when you're gone," he mumbled into Dean's skin.
"Yeah," Dean said, running his fingers through Frankie's curly hair, pushing it back from his sweaty forehead. "Me too."
Frankie looked up at him. "Dean, I have a bad feeling about this."
That one twisted in Dean's gut. He forced a smile on his face. "You're always coming up with a reason for me to stay."
Frankie glared. "No I'm not. I just don't feel good about this." He reached up to stroke Dean's cheek. "Promise me one thing?"
The last time Frankie asked for a promise Dean wound up explaining what he and Dad did. Dean swallowed hard before nodding. "Anything."
"If Sam won't go with you, you come home." He lifted up to stare Dean in the eye. "Promise me."
"Why?" This one didn't make any sense to him at all.
Frankie wet his lips before answering. "John raised both of you, so I know Sam can watch your back." Those thick, almost clumsy fingers gently rubbed his cheek. "Promise."
Dean sighed, looking up into Frankie's earnest eyes. "That's why you want me to make the side-trip. You had this all worked out, huh?"
Frankie didn't shrug or make any movement to distract from Dean's answer, he just kept staring.
"Okay," Dean said. Frankie's face relaxed. "I promise, but only because you're such a nag." He grinned through his guilt, because this was one promise he knew he couldn't keep. The chances of Sam coming along to look for Dad were slim, at best, and Dean wasn't going to blow off the search because of Frankie's 'feeling.' He needed to make sure they had a real good time in the shower later, to make up for his little white lie.
Dean tossed his duffel in the backseat then leaned against the side of his car. He noticed a couple of the neighbors standing outside. The Impala parked on the street instead of in the garage could only mean one thing: he had a job.
Frankie came out of the house with a grocery bag of snacks for the road. Dean grinned at their odd routine, how Frankie always sent him off with provisions. When Frankie pinned him against the car with a bruising kiss, Dean tried not to act as surprised as he felt. Normally Frankie just used one of his famous world-stopping kisses to try to convince him to stay. This felt more like a desperate plea to come back.
When they broke apart, Frankie wrapped one hand around his shoulder and the other palm pressed against his cheek. "Don't you dare forget that promise."
Not a desperate plea, more like a demand, then. Dean caught his breath before offering one of their usual good-bye kisses.
He pulled away, cradling Frankie's face in his hands. "I'm coming back," he promised. "Don't think I won't." Dean held up his silver ring. "Yours. Remember?"
"You better." Frankie swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing rapidly, before standing out of the way on the lawn. "And you better call every damn Sunday!" he shouted over the engine noise of the Impala.
Dean smiled broadly as he waved. When he drove out of the neighborhood, he had the eerie feeling he wouldn't be back here for a while.
Dean watched Sam go back into his Stanford apartment building with a sinking feeling. Up to now, he hadn't lied to Frankie. When he told Sam he could look for Dad on his own but he didn't want to, Frankie had been the real reason. But now, now he didn't have a choice. Dean pulled away from the curb, idly checking his watch. As he maneuvered through the sleepy university town, he wondered if Frankie might still be up. He checked the time again. It hadn't changed. Dean shifted his eyes from the road to his watch several times, but the time was frozen. Yeah, not good.
The Impala swung around in the street, roaring back to Sam's. Dean slammed to a stop, barely taking the time to throw her in park before racing for Sam's apartment building. He smelled smoke when he kicked in the front door. Heat was already building in the hall leading to the bedroom, where Sam's screams of terror came from. He glanced up to see Sam's girlfriend pinned to the ceiling, her horror a deathmask as flames devoured her body. She could have been dead for hours. There was no choice but to physically force Sam outside. Dean had to sit on his little brother to keep him from going back inside, until the fire department arrived.
The paramedics insisted on giving them both oxygen before allowing them to go, but Dean managed to slip Sam past the authorities. He didn't like the look on Sam's face when little brother declared they had work to do. It sounded so...cold.
Not daring to leave Sam alone, not even long enough for a trip to buy a few clothes, Dean headed for a motel. He checked them in using his latest scammed card. Sweat, smoke and ash clung to them. Dean figured Sam could use one of his shirts and at least his sweatpants until they could hit a store tomorrow. They didn't shower right away, though. Inside the room each of them just sat on a bed, lost in his own thoughts.
Sam's girlfriend died exactly the same way Dad had always described Mom's death. What was going on? Was this thing, whatever it was, stalking their family? First Mom, then Jessica. Who next? There weren't any more women, unless that wasn't the connection. It could be...
A cold hand gripped his heart with icy fingers. Dean couldn't swallow, his throat had gone bone dry. One hand reached into his pocket, clutching his cell phone tightly.
"Shower." He stood up, towering over the figure of his shell-shocked brother. "Sam, you first. Get your ass in there."
"It's okay, Dean," Sam murmured. "You go ahead."
With his free hand, Dean picked up his duffel and threw it in Sam's lap. "Find something in there that'll fit you. I'll buy you some clothes in the morning." He jerked his head at the small bathroom. "Move!"
Sam stood, no recognition in his face, moving on automatic. That was fine with Dean, for now. He needed Sam in that bathroom with the water running. The instant the water started, Dean slipped outside. With trembling fingers, he hit number one on his speed-dial. It rang until the answering machine picked up. Panicked, Dean had to call twice more before a man's voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Frankie?" Dean slumped against the wall of the motel in his relief. "Are you okay?"
"Okay?" There was a pause. "Yeah, I'm okay." He sounded a little more awake now. "You were supposed to call about six hours ago, babe. What the hell happened?"
He slid down to the cold concrete sidewalk surrounding the building, phone pressed tightly against his ear. "Go double the salt lines."
"What?" Now Frankie sounded worried. "Dean, what are you talking about?"
"Just do it, Frankie," Dean said in a weary voice. "And after you double them, I want you to pour a line of salt around all the walls in our room."
"Only if you talk to me while I do it," Frankie replied. Dean could hear him moving around, hopefully doing as he asked. "Talk, Dean. Did Sam go with you?"
"Yeah." Dean sighed as the events of the evening replayed in his mind's eye. "I was planning to call you after I dropped Sam off. It was kind of late, but I didn't think you'd mind."
"You know I wouldn't," Frankie confirmed. "So you just dropped him off? Does that mean you're headed home?"
"No." Dean stared out at the night, trying not to imagine Frankie on the ceiling of their bedroom. "How're you coming with the salt?"
"I'm doing the walls now," Frankie replied. "I figured I'd start there, since you sound kind of worked up. Keep talking."
"His girlfriend's dead." Dean swallowed with his dry mouth again.
Even though it was dead silent on the other end, he knew Frankie heard him. "What was it?"
"The same thing that killed our mom," Dean replied weakly.
"You mean on the ceiling, fire, the whole bit?" he asked slowly.
Sam and Jess had been together for about the same amount of time he and Frankie had. That was when it hit Dean, how he would feel in Sam's place, the force of that kind of devastation. All the air drained from his lungs, forcing him to gasp for breath.
"Yeah," he managed to breathe out, tears rolling unbidden down his face.
"Babe," Frankie said gently, "I'm still here. I'm doubling all the salt lines and I've lined our room."
Dean rubbed a weary hand over his wet face. "Double it."
"Dean, if you need to bring Sam back here..." Frankie's voice trailed off.
"He wants to find Dad," Dean admitted. "Find Dad, figure out what killed his girlfriend, and go kill it."
"He said that?" Frankie demanded.
"Yeah, he said that." Dean rubbed his face again, but it was still wet. When he looked at his hand in the outdoor lighting, it was dark with ash and soot which clung stubbornly to his skin in murky wet streaks. Great, he could just imagine the mess his face must look. Sam might figure out what he'd been doing out here, well, at least part of it. "I need to go back inside soon. Sam's taking a shower."
He knew what the sigh meant, Frankie was disappointed in him for not telling Sam about them. Well, hell, how could he possibly have done that? When was he supposed to do that? When the woman in white had been trying to rip Sam's heart out, or after his girlfriend was toasted on the ceiling? He couldn't do it now, not after Sam had lost so much. It would be like rubbing salt in his wounds.
"Babe, promise me just one thing. And I mean this Dean, I really want you to do this," Frankie stated and Dean had never heard him more serious.
"What?" Dean didn't know how much more he could take tonight. Too much had happened, too much too fast.
"Don't take my ring off."
Dean closed his eyes as a fresh wave of emotions surged through him. Even now, or maybe especially now, Frankie wanted him. "Yes, dear," he promised, and he meant it.
"Call me next week, babe. I've been working on some new material," he said gently. "Now go take care of your little brother."
"Frankie?" He put his free arm on his knees, pressed his forehead against it so his face would be hidden from view. Now the tears flowed freely, his fears betraying him in private. "I.. I..."
He'd never said it, those three words. Most couples could say them. What if Frankie never heard them, what if he...
"I know, babe. I love you, too. Now you better go before Sam comes looking for you."
"Next week," Dean promised before closing his cell phone. He allowed himself just five more seconds before angrily rubbing his face with both hands and his denim-clad knees. They smelled of smoke and death, too. He really needed a shower.
Dean paused before reentering their motel room. He couldn't hear the shower, so he hoped that meant Sam was done. He pushed open the door quickly, making a bee-line for the bathroom.
"Where'd you go?" Sam asked in a cold, emotionless voice.
"Had to check on something in the car," Dean called out without turning around, a cold shiver running up his spine. "There damn well better be some soap left." He shut himself inside, not daring to look at himself in the mirror.
He was really glad he and Frankie had that day together before he left this time, because he didn't know when he'd be able to find an excuse to slip off for a few days. Not with Sam around. Sam was a freaking bloodhound when it came to secrets, and Dean didn't want his little brother discovering this one on his own.
