Warnings: Eh, pretty tame
Pairings: John/Caleb if you squint or believe John's side of things.
10
Dean Winchester hadn't understood at the time. Dad had just said that maybe he shouldn't get too comfortable around Caleb Bailey. The situation called for a place to crash while he healed. Dean was laid up with a busted leg. The hunter was willing to let Dean crash for a while. Caleb was funny. Dean liked to laugh. Caleb had tons of guns. Dean liked guns. Dean was sure it would be awesome despite the pain and pain killers and the having to stay off his leg.
Caleb had Dean cleaning his guns while Caleb melted down a load of silver. Dean hated silences. Caleb was okay with them. Dean scrubbed and oiled and huffed. "Hey man, how long we known you?"
"A while." Caleb adjusted his flame.
"What are you? 45?"
"I'm 39, asshole." The older hunter cut his eyes at the younger man.
"Sorry." Dean winced. He wasn't too good at gauging the age of anyone over 30. "Just thought you were closer to Dad's age."
"Closer than you are." Caleb straightened and looked at Dean. "John's 12 years older than me. I think I met him at a Roadhouse some years ago. '92 or so. Maybe a little earlier. An old buddy hooked us up cause your dad burns through guns like no one's business. Guns are my business. I used to eat spam but since I got your old man on the hook, I eat steak."
"You're kind of a dick."
"It's what I'm told." He turned back to his flame with a sideways smile. "Two ex-wives, an ex-fiance and too many one-night stands to count."
"Somebody married you?" Dean scoffed. "Two somebodies? And another one was gonna?"
"Did your father want you back alive?" He cut his eyes at the young man again.
"Sorry."
"23 can be a dangerous age to be, Dean." Caleb warned as he dropped a silver chain in his pot. "Especially when you're a good-looking kid. People underestimate you and you stop rising to the occasion to prove them wrong. You get lazy and stop trying hard to be a person. Then when you need those skills, you're old and rusty and not as good looking and no one wants to put the time in letting you slide one more time."
The silence was long while Dean cleaned the guns and Caleb poured silver into molds. Dean hummed after a bit. Caleb turned on the radio. Dean sang along, Caleb turned up the volume. Dean stopped singing, the radio returned to a tolerable level.
At dinner, Chinese takeout, Dean bounced in his seat. He fidgeted. He made an alarming amount of noise for someone who was technically not moving. Caleb shoved three painkillers down his throat. Solved that. Dean was draped over the couch, his broken leg propped on the arm, the other leg sliding off the couch. Caleb rubbed his head and sighed. "You're useless."
"I know. That's why I'm here." Dean smiled and his head dropped onto the couch cushion.
Two days later, Caleb was grinding his teeth and Dean was chattering up a storm. Caleb just wanted a beer and to listen to the radio. It'd been a long ass day. "Dude… I got mad love for your dad but I'm going to kill you."
"What?" Dean grinned. "I thought you liked Metallica."
"I like to listen to Metallica. I do not like to listen to you give an oral history on Metallica." Caleb groaned. "I'm gonna go shave my head. And no I don't need your help."
A week later, Dean was playing a drum solo on Caleb's last nerve. Caleb climbed onto the kid's chest and told him to shut the fuck up or else he'd break his other leg. Then he shoved the rest of his meds down his throat.
Two weeks later, Dean got an air cast. Then he got drunk. Drunk Dean was more tolerable. But still chatty. But it was at a level that wasn't so grating… or else Caleb had just finally gotten used to the chatter. That thought was terrifying. Though, the chatter had taken on a kid of white noise effect that Caleb could tune out if he really tried.
"My dad, man. He gets so drunk." Dean breathed out heavily. "Starts talking to my mom like she's there. Like she's really there. No ghost shit. I made a… thing and it works but doesn't turn on when Dad's going on and on about how much he loves the chick who ain't there. And then he picks fights with Sam."
"Your dad picks fights with everyone when he's drunk." Caleb pointed out. "And I do mean everyone. Six foot seven dudes with muscles on the muscles on their muscles."
Dean laughed a bit and then his smile faded enough that Caleb wondered if he was sobering up. "Hey, Caleb?"
"Yeah, man?"
"A few years back… Dad said something to me and it don't make sense."
"Just something?" Caleb laughed. "Your old man talks a lot of nonsense a lot of the time."
"It's just… he told me not to get too comfortable around you. What the hell?" Dean turned his head to look at Caleb. "What did he mean?"
"John." Caleb cursed under his breath. "It's nothing."
"No come on. Tell me. I mean… he really didn't want me to crash here. I just… want to know why?"
"You really don't want to hear that story."
"Why not?"
"It involves your dad naked."
Dean snorted and fell off the couch, broken leg still on the couch. "Now you gotta tell me."
"I keep trying to tell him and he won't let me explain." Caleb sighed and got comfortable. "We were on a hunt. Your dad fell into a pit. It was full of salivating nymphs. It was hell pulling him out. I got them taken care of but he was still under the influence of the nymph spit."
"What did it do to him?" Dean struggled to get back on the couch.
"It was Spanish Fly, man. He was hot and horny. It was gross. I tried to get him hosed off. He stripped on his own. Okay. I want that known. I was hosing away and not looking and he was grabbing himself. Just… choking the chicken while inside a freezing cold stream of hose water." Caleb shuddered. "Makes my balls hurt just to think about it. Then he started chasing cars."
Dean laughed so hard he snorted. "Why?"
"There were women in them. They might have been underage girls. I don't know. Seemed like a place his dick wanted to be. I had to knock him to the ground and sit on him. Several times. Sat on him this way and that way. He was sucking on my knee and I was just trying to keep him down and out of trouble. Luckily the place we were squatting in didn't have too many upstanding citizens around. No one cared what we were doing wrestling in the mud. He came to with his cock saluting and his hand on my crotch. He'd been at it a while so… I'm not gonna lie. Things were lively in my pants. He hasn't made eye contact since."
Dean was laughing so hard he wasn't making any noise. Then he sucked in a huge breath. "That was awesome."
"Don't tell him I told you. He'll just get pissed all over again. He honestly thinks I drugged him."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Caleb laughed to himself.
"But Dad knows you're not gay. I mean… that's a lot of exes you got."
"Your dad grew up in the sixties, man. His folks grew up in the forties. I grew up in the seventies. It was a little different. He's still full of this… undying love for the only woman he'll ever marry." Caleb pulled on his beer and looked to a window. "John and I have talked. You shoot the shit when you're on a hunt together, when you're holed up waiting out a beast, when you're waiting on a shipment and killing time is done easier with some chatter." He looked at the kid. "It's one of the reasons I learned not to chatter so much. Especially with older guys like your dad. One of my marriages was open and she was a swinging gate, my last engagement was… a… more than open but exclusive. It's not stuff your dad is okay with."
"Really?"
"I've been in the world a while and my chosen career path has its pitfalls. I don't waste a lot of time on morals…. And societal conventions." Caleb shrugged. "Maybe once or twice when I was your age, I woke up in a bed with about four or five people and the ratio of girls to boys was weak." He pulled on his beer. "It wasn't a big deal to anyone at the time. Not to me. I know that story made your dad's teeth sing."
"Yeah, I guess." Dean sobered a bit. "Sorry Dad is a dick."
"He is what he is. He's a good man. I'm lucky to count him as a friend. Had the tables been turned, I think your dad would have done the same for me."
"Yeah, he would." Dean nodded. "I would, too. I might even jerk you off. I can't stand to see a man in pain."
"You're a good one, Dean." Caleb toasted him with his whiskey.
A week later, John pulled up to collect Dean. Dean packed up his shit while keeping a steady conversation with Caleb about bass fishing. Bass fishing. John shook Caleb's hand but didn't make eye contact. Dean snorted but got into the car. He gave Caleb a wave as they pulled off the drive. A few miles later, Dean cleared his throat. "So, you think Caleb is gay?"
"I know he is."
"Really, cause you were the one with your hands on his dick, not the other way around."
"Dammit, Dean."