Feedback: 'Cause I love my reviewers that much.

Tai--I wuv you. ^_~ Rob Thomas is such a sex toy. Glad you liked Scarlett AKA Brad, I liked writing that part. And Fulton 'n' Dean ARE horribly stubborn...I had to seek outside help on this chapter.

Sele--Yes, well, Dean is something of gentleman around the ladies (in my universe), so he's hesitant to beat Julie's brains in like she deserves. Not to worry, Phoebe will rain down proper vengeance in due time. ::chugs her Hard Lemonade:: Who cares about PC? But if you insist: Jono is sociopathic biracial (?) trash. If you miss my reviews so much, send me the chapters and I'll email you my feedback. ^_^

Soli--Oh, honey, /I'm/ your friend. ::hugs:: The whole marrying me thing? I dunno, suddenly lycanthrope is proposing or something. Just get hitched to Fulton-clone. ::sticks Ring Pop on Solis's left ring finger:: There, it's official. ^_^ And yes, please send your psychotic muse over to blow up AOL Time Warner, megaconglomerates are the devil incarnate.

Lycanthrope--::looks at her co-authoress oddly:: You're gonna give me the worst case of an overabundant-ego, darling Wolfie. That's okay, you're aware that I worship every word you write, aren't you? (The thing about Windsor was, I had the name stuck in my head and the association that they were bad guys...I truly did not remember that you used them in "The Bash Brothers in Love"!) We can be self-centered Ducks-Goddesses together! (The drawing is from a DXM trip, very fun, that. I will find a scanner and get the thing up /someday,/ I promise.)

****

A/N: Despite the song selection, the love scene here is probably gonna be somewhat tame--or at least not very well-written. I'm more romance-novel than porn-magazine in my love scene writing. ^^;;;; It's gonna take so much work to get this done tastefully. Plus, I'm only calling on my own limited sexual experience...but let's not go there. I just love this song like so much pie that I had to use it. (::gets Homer-esque look on her face:: Mmmm...pie...)

HUGE thank-yous to Britts/geometrygal, meme, and kellyerielf. Without you guys, I probably would have ended up taking the wrong road in this chapter and ended up awfully embarrassed, even if I did manage to pull it off. So! You do realize that you have a slave here, for a while now? ^_^

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"Might as Well, Part Twelve" AKA The EVIL Chapter

["help me/I broke apart my insides/help me/I've got no soul to sell/help me/the only thing that works for me/help me get away from myself/

I wanna fuck you like an animal/I wanna feel you from the inside/I wanna fuck you like an animal/my whole existence is flawed/you get me closer to god/

you can have my isolation/you can have the hate that it brings/you can have my absence of faith/you can have my everything/

help me/you tear down all my reason/help me/it's your sex I can smell/help me/you make me perfect/help me become somebody else."

--from "Closer to God" by Nine Inch Nails]

"As usual, marijuana saves an otherwise disastrous day..." Fulton murmured, leaning back against Dean and closing his eyes.

Dean asked, "How was today disastrous?"

"I thought about the past. Doing that always makes me wonder why I'm always the one to end up, fuck, like, knee-deep in life's crap."

They were in Fulton's room at the Greens' duplex, mellow from the hash they'd recently finished. There was a note in the kitchen saying that Fulton was home, he'd brought his roommate along ("It's not a lie, it's the witholding of information," Fulton said serenely when Dean complained), and 'please knock on the bedroom door and let us know when you're home'. After that, they raided the refrigerator in advance and grabbed a stereo from the other bedroom ("Some girl Chloe that Kyle and Lorraine took in after my foster sister Phoebe left.") before locking themselves in. One of Dean's Guns 'n Roses tapes was playing, and Chloe's New Kids on the Block CD had been thrown out into the hall in disgust.

"Does it help that I end up at least ankle-deep in crap most of the time?" Dean wondered. Fulton considered this and nodded slightly.

"It helps a lot." He leaned his head back on Dean's shoulder and opened his eyes, smiled, and stated matter-of-factly, "You're sideways."

Dean kissed his cheek and replied just as prosaiacally, "Come over here, then, and set me right."

Fulton lay down on his side and tugged Dean down to lie beside him. Dropping a soft, brief kiss on Dean's lips, he said with satisfaction, "That's better."

"You're not lying on your keys," Dean said, sitting back up. Fulton, being clad in only a tee shirt and his boxers, shrugged and said,

"So take off your pants."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You don't put much stock in subtlety, do you?" Fulton smiled happily and shook his head. Dean sighed, "Okay, fine," and stripped off his pants and leather jacket, only to be dragged back down again and kissed soundly once he was done.

"That's much better."

****

They did nothing for at least five minutes but lie there in that full-size bed, content to just hold each other. Dean was tracing lazy swirls along Fulton's upper arm when he felt a scar along the young man's left bicep. Running his fingers along the nearly invisible mark, he inquired, "What's this from?"

"Mm? Oh," Fulton shifted away from Dean and turned his arm so that inside of it was visible. "Flathead screwdriver. Got my arm up before he hit my eyes or anything like that. Bled like a bitch, though."

Although Fulton did not say explicitly who the man was, Dean knew. It was Fulton's father, the abusive bastard. Dean kissed the scar gently, running the tip of his tongue along the smooth flesh. Fulton shivered with pleasure, and Dean whispered, "I wish I could make it all go away, honey."

"I haven't even seen them for years," Fulton told him softly. "They're probably dead, anyway." He felt Dean's hands sliding under his shirt, seeking out more evidence of his father's physical abuse. Panic rose in him, and he pushed Dean's hands away, saying, "Don't. Please."

"I want to know you," Dean retorted, his eyes intense and hungry. "Everything about you. Bad and good, Fulton, it makes you who you are."

Fulton sat up and stared at him, his own eyes half-wild with fear, half-pleading. "Dean, I..." he stopped, dropped his gaze, and said with difficulty, "I am...so sorry. It's just...this scares me, a little bit. To let you...to let you in. I've had to close out so much..."

"I understand." Dean replied. He pressed his lips to Fulton's hair, promising, "I tell you anything, show you anything, that you want to know about me, okay? It's only right."

"Stop being so sweet," Fulton laughed, a slightly hollow sound, "You're gonna make me do something stupid like...cry. I'll bawl like a fucking baby, swear I will."

"We wouldn't want that..." Dean teased, kissing Fulton's nose. "Would we?"

Fulton pulled back, looking rather miffed. "I'm serious."

"So you're serious. Here, let me help you take off this shirt..."

"Obviously, sub--" Fulton was cut off as Dean pulled the black Nirvana shirt over his head. He grabbed it himself and threw it at Dean's head, a blow which he avoided. "Subtlety isn't a big thing with you, either."

"Nope," Dean said, a suspiciously charming grin on his face. He simply looked at Fulton for a few moments, during which time Fulton felt a little uncomfortable.

"What?" He demanded at last, unable to stand the silence. He self-consciously folded his arms and glared at Dean.

"You're gorgeous."

"And you're blind," Fulton snapped, entirely unamused when Dean laughed at him. "You are," he insisted. Dean hugged him tightly.

"Stop being so negative about yourself." Dean nuzzled Fulton's neck, planting warm kisses along his neck. Fulton was already pleasantly confused by all the flattery being directed at him, so by the time that Dean's mouth had wandered down his chest toward his belly, he was completely dizzy with desire. Dean paused to pull off Fulton's boxers, and a whimper of need sounded in Fulton's throat. "Are you okay with this, honey?"

"Yes," Fulton breathed.

Dean persisted, "I just wanna warn you that I've never done this before."

"Oh, God," Fulton said softly, rolling his eyes, "If you're talking about what I think you're talking about, then I wouldn't expect you to. Just.../touch me/ or something, Christ." Dean took this advice quite literally.

Fulton stifled a cry when Dean fisted his hand over Fulton's rigid sex and gently squeezed. Green eyes met black ones as they settled into a rhythm of movement, and Dean smiled slightly.

"Good?"

"Unbelievably," Fulton panted in reply, hot, searching hands clutching at Dean's back. "I love you, Dean."

"That's nice to hear," Dean murmured dryly. He had meant what he said, about wanting to take away everything that had ever hurt Fulton, and even more he wanted to protect Fulton from ever being hurt again. That, of course, could only ever happen in a perfect world. And it had been proved to both of them many times that this was a very imperfect world.

But it didn't matter right then, not in the slightest. It didn't matter that Fulton avoided his questioning eyes when Dean's fingers brushed against the cigarette burns or the ridged marks from his father's belt buckles, because he whispered roughly that those things were in the past and didn't count. It didn't matter that neither of them quite knew what to do, because each was patient with the other and next time would be better for the trouble. It didn't even matter that Fulton smothered a scream and that his fingernails drew blood when Dean entered him, because pain fades quickly when it visits those well-acquainted with it.

What mattered was that they loved each other.

****

Fulton's fingers hovered near Dean's face, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to touch, to risk waking his lightly sleeping lover. Instead, he traced the curve of Dean's jaw, his touch sporadic and feather-soft. Dean murmured something incomprehensible and shook his head, coming to rest on Fulton's shoulder. Fulton shifted closer, wincing as a certain soreness began to set in and make itself known. He could never have dreamed that sex could be so intense and wonderful, but he knew that it wouldn't be the same with anyone else. It was Dean or no one else. He could and did imagine the pain later, dull and achy, annoying because it wouldn't get worse or better for a while.

A gentle knock on the door was followed by Kyle saying, "Fulton, we're home. Lorraine's making meatloaf for dinner."

He heard Chloe's high, childish voice, "Hey, what's my New Kids CD doing out here?" and he grinned.

"Okay, thank you," he called to Kyle. He looked back toward Dean to see that the boy was awake, looking at him with worry.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Fulton gazed at him with an air of wounded seriousness. "Terribly. I'll never let you do that again." He watched with a straight face as remorse flew over Dean's features and allowed himself to be embraced before he whispered in Dean's ear, "You are incredibly gullible, Mr. Portman."

Dean pulled back and stared at him. Comprehension dawned, and he shoved Fulton onto his back. "And you are evil, Mr. Reed."

"Now that we have that established, we should get dressed so you can meet Kyle and Lorraine."

Dean shook his head. "I knew that there had to be strings attatched."

~~To be continued...~~

A/N: Hah, two references to two Elden Henson movies in the same section! I rule at incorporating inside lines. I was surprised though, that no one saw fit to comment on the rather bad joke in Chapter Eleven about Guy's older brother...even if it was terrible, I figured that /someone/ had to notice.