Guess God Thinks I'm Abel

by WhosJeebus

Dean comes home unexpectedly, and finds Sam hosting a party. Innocent fun turns to revelation, and Dean has to confront something within himself that refuses to be ignored. Slightly Slashy, so previous Gen readers be cautioned!

Title: Guess God Thinks I'm Abel

Author: whosjeebus

Fandom: Supernatural

Disclaimer: Not mine. Pretty. Want.

Pairing: Sam/OMC, Sam/Dean (one-sided, pre-slash)

Rating: PG-13 for naughty words and a teensy bit of naughty behavior

Genre: Slash, Pre-Slash

Spoilers and/or Warnings: teen!Winchesters, speculation, underage drinking

Summary: Written for the LiveJournal community, '60minutefics'. Prompt #1, 'The Joke's On You.' Barely fits the guidelines, and the lame-o title is taken directly from the song I was listening to as I typed this header.

Dean comes home unexpectedly, and finds Sam hosting a party. Innocent fun turns to revelation, and Dean has to confront something within himself that refuses to be ignored.

A/N: All feedback and con crit welcomed. C'mon, gimme the con crit. Give it to me GOOD. Just the way I like it. Uh-huh.

Dean sped by on the back roads of Edmond, Oklahoma at blinding speed, speakers blasting AC/DC at full volume, as a stiff breeze blew in through the open window. The Impala handled the curves with a casual grace and power that caused his heart to race, and he made no effort to stifle his sigh of disappointment as he crested a small hill on the outskirts of town, his journey almost at an end.

He pulled into the driveway of the rented bungalow he shared with his father and fifteen year old brother, surprised to find the gravel drive already filled with cars, and light spilling from every window in the house. It was after midnight, and Sam still had his geek buddies over? They were probably busy playing Dungeons & Dragons, and had lost track of the time. He grinned to himself, thinking of all the ways he could embarrass Sammy in front of his lamer than lame 'friends'.

He closed the car quietly and made his way toward the front porch steps. He passed by a newer model convertible, and did a double take as he noticed a pink-haired troll doll hanging from the rear view mirror. A wide variety of make-up and compact cases lay strewn about on the seats. Girls? Sam had girls at the house and it was past midnight? Now this is a new and alarming development...

Sam wasn't expecting him back at all tonight, so that might explain some of it. It seemed his baby brother was growing up, but that didn't mean Dean was going to miss a chance to bust him with his pants around his ankles, maybe even literally. Their father was off on a hunting trip for the weekend, and Bobby had offered to take Dean's place as backup at the last minute. Dean wasn't exactly disappointed about it, either. Bobby knew his stuff better than anyone in the business, and Dad was in good hands. It was no secret John trusted his older son as much as, if not more than any other hunter he knew, but it had been a long time since Dean had any down time to himself. His Dad's 'suggestion' was as good as an order, and Dean had resigned himself to a quiet Friday night at home, with Sam and some leftover macaroni and cheese for company.

The prospect of catching Sam in flagrante delicto was just about the most exciting thing that had happened in this boring, podunk little town. This was gonna be good.

The front door was unlocked and he eased it open, trying to muffle the squeak that always seemed to wake Dad at the most inopportune moments. The sight that greeted his eyes, however, was more startling than finding a grumpy, half-asleep John Winchester waiting up for him.

Sam sat in the middle of a small group of teens, stripped down to his plaid boxers. Surrounding him were three other boys, all in various states of undress, and two girls. One girl went topless, while the other appeared fully clothed except for her shoes and socks, piled neatly on the floor next to her. The living room was strewn with empty paper cups, beer cans, and several bottles of Jack Daniels.

Dean closed the door behind him and leaned against it, giving Sam his best 'you're so screwed' glare. He idly drummed the fingertips of one hand against his thigh.

That's it. Let the suspense build just a little bit and --

"Oh, Sammy... you got some 'splainin' to do!" Dean sing-songed gleefully, just as his brother blurted, "Dean! I can explain!"

Dean snagged a can of Coors Light from the hand of one of the guys -- no one he recognized -- and plunked himself down on the floor next to Sam.

"This I gotta hear."

Sam gaped at him, open-mouthed, but no sound came out. Dean took a drink of his beer and decided to give his brother a little nudge in the right direction. "Why don't you start with the naked part?"

Sam's eyes narrowed, but it was one of the other boys who piped up first. "We were playing strip poker, but, uh... we decided to stop. You know, to be fair to the girls."

Dean eyed the speaker for a long moment, taking another swig of beer. He had sandy blond hair, and looked a good deal older than Sam; maybe even old enough to have been the one who supplied the alcohol for the impromptu party. Sam had plenty of fake ID's to his name, but was cursed with a smooth, wide-eyed baby face that inevitably caused any package store employee take a second look.

"And you are...?"

"Um, Jake. Jake Green. I'm on the varsity soccer team with Sam."

So not twenty-one then, but probably legal. Eighteen was such an easy age to rattle. "Well, Jake, judging by the fact that you and your buddies are down to t-shirts and tighty-whities, I'd say these ladies were feeling pretty generous toward you." He smirked and turned his gaze to Sam, who had a slow flush beginning to creep us his neck to his cheeks. "Looks like they were ganging up on you, Sammy." He raised his beer can in a salute to the two giggling girls. "Nice job, ladies."

"Look, Dean... You can't tell Dad about this. He'll -- "

"Don't get your panties in a twist. Dad won't hear anything from me."

The relief on everyone's faces was evident -- John Winchester was one huge, scary motherfucker -- but Sam merely looked suspicious.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, bro. Just as long as you follow a few rules I'm about to set down."

Sam's suspicion turned to outright disbelief, but Dean knew he had him squeezed between a rock and a hard place. "Dean, if you think this is your big chance to humiliate me in front of my friends, then I'd rather take my chances with Dad."

Dean ignored him and held out one hand, palm upward. "Alright teeny-boppers, hand over your car keys and start phoning Mommy or Daddy. No one's going anywhere until morning."

Collective groans met this announcement, but five sets of keys were eventually produced, and several cell phones made an appearance. While he waited for everyone to settle back down, Dean went to the refrigerator for another beer, followed closely by Sam.

"What the fuck are you up to, Dean?"

"You need to stop being so paranoid, dude. I'm trying to protect your ass here."

Sam crossed his arms and glared at Dean, the effect spoiled only slightly by the fact that he was clad nothing but his underwear. "Well I don't need your protection. You're not even supposed to be here tonight, so why don't you go find your own fun and leave us alone?"

Dean stared back at Sam, struggling to hold his temper in check. He partially succeeded. "Lemme guess what's going on here. You're the new kid in this shitsplat town, and everyone's already formed their little groups and cliques without you. You don't have anywhere to fit in, so you let it be known that your Dad and annoying older brother were gonna be gone for the weekend, am I right? Party at the Winchester place, BYOB? Trust me, Sammy. I've been there."

Sam stared down at his bare feet, unresponsive.

"You just let me know if I'm coming out of left field with this, okay?" He shut the refrigerator door with more force than necessary, and popped the top on his beer can one-handed. God, he should have gone for something a little stronger. Good thing the night is still young. "You've probably got your eye on one of those chicks out there too, and I bet you didn't want her getting a good look at the handsome devil that is Dean Winchester. Am I warm yet?"

Sam turned to go, but Dean reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Let me go, Dean. I don't want to hear any more of your bullshit. God, you're so full of yourself!"

Dean clamped his fingers down on warm flesh, hard enough to bruise. "A word of advice when it comes to girls, Sammy. If she's shallow enough to throw you over for a pretty face, then she didn't deserve you in the first place."

Sam shrugged out from under Dean's grasp, looking unsure of himself. Dean gave him a sad smile and walked past, toward the kitchen door. "Yeah, that was sort of a compliment. Go figure."

He stepped back out into the living room, aware of Sam's glowering presence at his back. At fifteen, Sam already had two inches height on him, and it made Dean grind his teeth in frustration on a daily basis. He heard Sam mutter something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "As usual, you have no idea what you're talking about."

Straightening, he put a wide smile on his face and clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention. "Alright people, let's have us an old-fashioned slumber party! Who wants to give me a make-over? Heh. Not that I really need it."

He seated himself on the floor once again, letting his gaze sweep over the assembled teenagers. When they began to visibly relax, Dean cleared his throat and announced in his best drill sergeant's voice, "First things first. My name's Dean, Sam's much cooler older brother, and I'll be your host for tonight's festivities. Let's go ahead and get a few things out of the way, why don't we?" Sam slouched down on the floor to Dean's left, tugging nervously at his boxers to make sure no one got an eyeful of the family jewels. Dean covered his mouth with one hand to hide a smile.

"Okay, rule number one: No puking. If you start looking green, your ass will be exiled to the bathroom for the rest of the night. I refuse to clean up any vomit you panty-wastes leave behind. Rule number two: You losers keep out of mine and Sammy's room. No exceptions. Rule number three: No one's getting lucky tonight, so put that idea out of your horny little heads right now. It ought to be enough that you're not getting the smack down from your parents for this shindig, so go ahead and count your blessings while you're still sober."

At this last, Jake's eyes darted toward Sam, who broke out in a fresh blush all over. What the hell? "Okay, let's hear some introductions."

Dean smiled at the girl seated across from him, and she met his grin with a flirtatious one of her own. She was the topless one he had noticed earlier, very obviously curvy in all the right places. Her bra was frilly and pink, and her attractive face was framed by a fall of wavy red hair. Trouble with a capital T, that one.

"I'm Dena. It's nice to meet you... Dean. Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

"Hilarious." Oh yeah, he was definitely gonna have to keep an eye on her.

"I'm Amy," the blonde girl interjected, just as the freckly guy next to Jake opened his mouth to speak.

Seth -- he of the overabundance of freckles -- Jake, and a scrawny fellow with the unlikely name of Constantine -- Connie, to his friends -- rounded out the group.

"And you all know my brother Sam, crappy party organizer, and all-around buzz kill. He enjoys romantic dinners, long walks in the moonlight, and holding hands. Pet peeves include -- "

"Cut the crap, Dean. We were doing just fine on our own, before you barged in."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? What on earth were you kiddies doing before I arrived to liven up the place?"

Dena leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile, giving Dean a long, slow look at some nicely formed cleavage. Damn. What is she? All of sixteen? Better slow down on the booze for a while. Guess playing quarters is out of the question. "After the boys chickened out of strip poker," She stuck her tongue out at Jake, "we tried playing spin the bottle for a while, but I had to kiss Amy twice in a row."

Dean's eyes widened.

"Not that she's a bad kisser, but Connie was starting to get jealous." Dena laughed at the murderous look Connie threw her, and Amy dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"Okay, too much information for me." Dean was starting to sweat. This group might be a bit more than he was prepared to handle. What was today's youth coming to?

Seth, in addition to being afflicted with more spots than the average cheetah, talked like he had a mouth full of marbles. "We were about to start the 'I Never' game, before you, uh, before..." he trailed off into mumbles as Dean stared at him.

"Hey, now that's a game I know pretty well. Let's kick this pig." Dean handed out cans of lite beer to everyone, and shifted around to get comfortable. Sam's leg pressed against the length of his own after he finally stilled, and Dean suppressed a little shiver of pleasure when Sam didn't pull away. How many beers have I had tonight, anyway? "Who wants to start?"

Things began innocently enough, with Amy declaring she had never been skinny-dipping. Nearly everyone drank at that one, and by Dean's reckoning, Dena drained half her beer in one swallow. They progressed to each player's left, with Sam countering that he had never been to Disney World. Dean was the only one besides Sam not drinking that turn. Trust his broody ass brother to play the poor, neglected white boy card for sympathy. He wondered what Sam's reaction would be if Dean opted for, "I've never strangled a succubus to death with my bare hands."

Sam nudged him with an elbow. "Your turn, Dean. Show us young whipper snappers how worldly you are, at the ripe old age of nineteen."

Dean grimaced and shoved back at Sam. He wanted to play rough, did he? "I've never gone to school with a pair of socks stuffed down the front of my jockeys."

Sam's jaw dropped, and the rest of the group fell over backwards laughing. Dena had better be careful, or she was gonna fall right out of that C-cup. When everyone had sufficiently recovered, Sam drank alone. His eyes shone certain death at Dean over the rim of the can.

The game continued on in much the same manner, with Sam and Dean attempting to embarrass the hell out of each other worse than the previous turn. It was a two-man game until Dena -- and Dean really should have seen this coming -- upped the ante with, "I've never given anyone a hand-job."

The room fell silent, and Amy ducked her head as she took a shy sip of her beer. Dena, well on her way to sauced, was seconds away from giving her girlfriend the ribbing of a lifetime, when Dean lifted his beer and drank.

No one moved. Dean lowered the can and stared frankly back, his eyebrows raised in challenge. Without warning, Sam slammed his beer down on the floor and stormed out of the room. To everyone's surprise but Dean's, Jake ran after him. Oh, Sammy. You could have just told me.

"And I'd say that was the climax of our evening, ladies and gentlemen. Why don't we call it a night?"

No one seemed inclined to argue, and Dean busied himself handing out blankets and pillows. For modesty's sake, he sequestered the girls in John's bedroom, directly across from the room he shared with Sam. No one would be able to stage a late night rendezvous without him hearing the door open. He made a place for the guys out on the living room floor, and with nothing left to distract him from facing the inevitable, he went in search of Sam.

Dean found him on the back porch, standing with his back against the far wall, his posture stiff and radiating fury. Jake had a hand on Sam's bare hip, alternately shuffling in and out of the other teen's personal space, as if he couldn't decide whether to stay or go. Dean hung back in the shadows until Jake made a move that earned him a forceful shove from Sam.

"It's none of your business, Jake! Can we talk about this later? I -- I just want to be alone right now, okay?"

Jake murmured something in reply, and angled his face toward Sam's neck.

He never made contact. Dean darted out of hiding and grabbed a fistful of Jake's t-shirt from behind. "I don't think you heard my brother clearly, Chuckles. He'd like to be alone." He planted a hand firmly in the middle of Jake's back and guided him toward the door leading back inside. Rather insistently.

Jake, demonstrating considerably more smarts than he had all evening long, scurried back into the house without protest.

"Alone means I don't want you around either, Dean. Just go away."

"Why are you so pissed, Sam? Is it the stupid game?"

Sam turned his back to Dean and leaned over the porch rail, supporting his weight with both hands. "This is all a big fat joke to you, isn't it? I knew you were going to pull something like this, just to humiliate me." He lowered his head, hair falling forward over his eyes. "What I can't figure out is, how did you know?"

"You think I was lying back there? C'mon, Sam, you know me better than that. If I was joking, I would have said, 'A priest, a rabbi, and a minister walk into a bar, and the bartender says --'"

"God, can you not shut up for five fucking seconds?"

"No, Sam, I can't. Not about this. I don't know what to say to convince you that I did nothing but tell the truth. It's a stupid fucking game, but I was honest for all of it. I would never use something like this for... for points against you. You have to know that. I really didn't know, about... you and Dim-bulb in there."

Sam turned and stared back at Dean through the darkness, his face half illuminated by the newly risen moon. He seemed to be mulling over Dean's words, gauging the truth from them. Something in Dean's expression must have gotten through to him, because his shoulders suddenly slumped, and he smiled, just the tiniest bit.

Sam, if you only knew what that smile did to me...

"There is no me and, " the smile widened, "Dim-bulb. Probably never will be, now." Sam shrugged. "Not that I'm all that torn up about it. We'll be moving on in a week or so anyway."

Dean stepped forward, unable to stop his hand from reaching up to cup the side of Sam's face. "I just want you to know... I don't care. I don't think of you any differently. I only hope you feel the same about me." If you only knew how much I wanted you to feel the same. Fuck, this is too over the top, even for me.Sam's eyebrows rose, but Dean continued on before he could interrupt. "Now, don't expect my blessing if you keep bringing home losers like that, but I'm not gonna give you too much crap over your personal life. Peace?"

Sam grasped Dean's hand in his own and brushed their joined fingers across his lips briefly. Dean shuddered.

"Sure thing. I think we're good." A huge yawn split Sam's face, and he released Dean's hand to give his own arms a brisk rub down. "Jesus, it's cold out here. I'm breaking out in goose bumps all over."

"Yeah, your little playmates are all bedded down for the night. I think it's safe to go in."

"You coming?"

"Nah, I think I'll stay out here for a while longer. Got some things on my mind."

Sam nodded, looking down. "Oh, okay. G'night, Dean."

"Night, Sammy."

Dean sat down on the steps and stretched his legs out, watching the moon's slow journey across the night sky. He didn't do much in the way of thinking, short of asking himself a number of questions for which he had no answers. When he finally got up to go inside, he had added one more to his mental list.

Sam's done hiding who he is; will I ever be able to do the same?

fin