Paint it Black Chapter 5, a supernatural fanfic

Title: Paint it Black 5/9
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3640
Disclaimer: If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*
Warning: Drug abuse, Sexual abuse, Violence

Summary: Dean's been keeping secrets. His family's not sure how to deal with that.

A/N: Yay! It's finally being beta'ed! Thanks to wickedlilwitch, who finally recuperated from Unrelated. If there are mistakes, blame her. J/k. Any mistakes are my fault as always. I just realized that I labeled this as unrequited John/Dean... I have no idea why I did that, unless I was thinking of the early chapters. I'm sorry. *walks away in shame*

Chapter Five

Six Years Ago…

John pulled up to the motel to find Dean pacing outside muttering to himself. The boy had been acting strangely for a couple of days, and John didn't like it. He got out of the truck and grabbed the two bags of groceries he'd picked up with one hand.

"Dean… you okay?"

"Yeah… no… I…"

"You're not using again, are you?"

"No… I'm not." When John didn't respond, Dean held up his hands. "I swear, I'm clean Dad. You ever gonna trust me again?"

"I want to Dean. You needed my help and I didn't see it 'cause I was so damn busy trustin' you that I ignored all the warning signs. I know I'm goin' overboard in the other direction now… but it's gonna take some time. It's better, though, right? Then it was at first?" John opened the door and waved him inside. Dean waited just inside the door and followed him into the kitchen.

"Yeah. It is," the boy said from behind him. He took one of the bags John was holding and started putting things away.

"You've worked hard," John pointed out. "Got your GED, stayed clean, stayed honest."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I almost used again. I bought some Oxy yesterday. But I didn't take it. I threw it away and called my sponsor. I just got back from an NA meeting."

John's heart gave a painful squeeze in his chest, but he forced himself to smile. "That's good, son. I'm proud of you."

"I haven't had a craving in months and then, outta the blue… There's somethin' I need to be honest with you about, Dad."

Damn it… he'd just come to some sort of calm acceptance of the lies he knew about. Nothing else had come up since the whole Sugar thing and he'd hoped that was the last of it. "Which would be?"

Dean looked away and took a deep breath. "The reason… the reason I started usin'."

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it?"

"I don't. God, I really, really don't. But I have to. 'Cause if I don't… If 'm not honest, I'll start usin' again. I tried to avoid it, but then yesterday… So I have to tell you. Promise you won't make me leave."

"Make you leave? I wouldn't let you leave when you tried to… what makes you think I'd kick you out?"

"Just… promise."

John regarded his son silently for a few seconds. The boy looked scared shitless. "Okay," he finally said. "I promise."

Dean took another deep breath. "I'm in love with you."

John was stunned. That was the last thing he expected to hear. "What?"

"I'm in love with you. I dream about… being with you. About the way you sound, the way you smell. About the feel of your hands."

"Dean… I'm… I'm your father." John knew from firsthand experience that fact didn't mean anything. Not between the two of them anyway. All those rules about father and son, and how they behaved and felt… they were all scrambled up and inside out when it came to him and his oldest. Had been for a long, long time.

"I know… I know I'm a freak, Dad." Dean looked tormented, rubbing at his arm and shuffling from one foot to the other. All John wanted to do was hold him, promise everything was going to be okay. Whatever it took. "You never hear about kids who think of their fathers that way. That's why I started drinkin' and takin' drugs… I just wanted to forget. And school was… I never fit in. No matter how hard I tried and then I stopped tryin' and that just made it even worse and they started makin' up stories about shit I'd done in my last school or town. So when I started thinkin' about… bein' with you, I just figured it was more proof that I was wrong somehow. The drugs and shit never made me stop thinkin' about you, but it helped me forget that it was wrong. Or made me not care so much that I was a pervert at least. When I was high, it was okay. I was okay. Normal, even."

"Jesus, Dean." John rubbed his mouth, and backed up a step. Like that would make him forget how sweet Dean's mouth had tasted that night months ago. Had he somehow done this to his son? Had his own twisted wishes somehow infected the boy? What the hell had he done to his son?

"I can…" Dean looked up at him with big, green eyes. He looked so damn young and so damn old all at once. It reminded him of when he'd gone back to work right after the fire and how Dean would cling to him when he got back to their little apartment. I'll be good, just don't leave. "I can control myself. I… I know I can't have everything I want. I can't have what I want from you. I shouldn't even want it in the first place. I get that, Dad. I already lost your trust. I can't lose you completely. Please, Dad. It doesn't have to be… it doesn't have to be weird." Only Dean could say something like that didn't have to be weird with a straight face.

"Dean…" John closed his eyes and huffed out a soft laugh. It was easy to deny his feelings when he thought they weren't reciprocated. Easy to leave the memory of the way Dean felt and smelled and sounded in his dreams when he could hide behind the guilt he felt over it while he was awake. He should just tell Dean everything was okay and walk away. He knew that. If ever there was a no brainer, this was it. There was no circumstance when it would be alright to want to have sex with your own son. He opened his eyes and looked at Dean, really looked at him. Standing there worrying his bottom lip, a frown creasing his brow as he waited for John to flip out on him, he was a beautiful boy… a beautiful man. And the only thing that felt right was the absolute last thing he knew he should do. "Fuck it."

He pulled Dean towards him and pressed their lips together. Surprise made Dean slow to react, but when he did it was without the slightest reservation. His boy was never one to look gift horses in the mouth. He barely realized that they were moving until he felt the wall against the back of his hand. He put his hands on Dean's hips and kept the boy immobile while he desperately rubbed their erections together. It was good… it was so fucking good. But it wasn't enough.

"Fuck me… please… need you…"

John was just beginning to understand that Dean had known it was him that night he was delirious. The kid probably thought it was a dream, but he hadn't been thinking about anyone else. He'd been thinking about John. He groaned and pressed harder against his son. The boy was clutching at him and he was trying to get them as close as possible, trying to pull his son inside his skin. He was so lost in what they were doing that he barely heard the door unlocking. Sammy. The thought sent a thrill of fear through him that turned him instantly from hot to ice cold. He threw himself away from Dean almost violently.

Fuck… what had he just almost done? He looked at Dean from the other side of the kitchen. The boy was staring back at him, eyes wide, lips slick and slightly swollen, clothes and hair askew, and it was all he could do to ignore the impulse to kiss him again. Even if Sam was home. But he couldn't let Sam see that. It seemed like an eternity before his youngest son finally had the door open and entered the living room, totally oblivious to what had happened only seconds before.

"Hey," Sam said with barely a glance at them through the doorway between the kitchen and where he stood, lugging his book bag in. If John didn't think it was good endurance training, he would have complained about how many fucking books they expected these kids to haul around like pack animals.

"Hey Sammy," he and Dean said in near unison. Sam just began dragging the bag across the room toward the coffee table.

"It's the weekend Sammy," John heard himself say.

"Yeah," the boy said without much enthusiasm.

"You still wanna spend it at Pastor Jim's?"

Sam had claimed that he wanted to look through the new books the pastor had told him would be coming during his last visit, but John knew that he just wanted to get away. Since he hadn't allowed Sam to stay while Dean was detoxing and Dean was often off at meetings he wouldn't tell his brother about, not to mention more hunting with John, the younger boy had become more withdrawn. John tried not to think of why that fit his needs right now. He never liked the idea of trying to get his boys out of the way. It always made him feel guilty, like he didn't deserve to have them at all. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, burning his skin.

"You changed your mind," Sam asked, a little too hopefully. Even though he was doing this to get the boy out of the suite for a few days, that hopefulness felt like a dagger in John's chest.

"Yeah. If you still wanna go."

"I can drive you," Dean blurted out. "Dad can't, but I just told him that I could. So…"

"Alright. Are you two okay?" Sam was paying attention to them now, squinting suspiciously at them through his bangs.

"We're fine, geek. Go pack your bag. I wanna get back before it gets too late."

"You got a date or somethin'?"

Dean smirked and waggled his eyebrows luridly. "Or somethin'."

They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen waiting for Sam to pack, John gripping the edge of the counter like that was the only thing keeping him that far away from his son. Maybe it was.

"You're not supposed to start new relationships while you're in recovery," he pointed out

"You think this is new? This has been goin' on since I was sixteen, maybe before. I just thought it was all in my head."

"Is that why… is that why you started walkin' around half dressed?" John frowned at the boy, horrified. That had been the summer after he turned sixteen, before he'd stopped going to school.

Dean blushed. "Yeah. And you were lookin'." The boy smirked. "You did a good job of actin' like you weren't, but you were."

It was John's turn to blush. He told himself that the boy was just being himself, that he was just comfortable with his own body. It never occurred to him that Dean might be trying to seduce him. "I shouldn't've."

"But you did. I'm done feelin' ashamed of what I want, of who I am. I'm finally figuring out how to be sober after damn near a year of bein' dry. Am I supposed to be a monk? Am I supposed to pretend that I'm not who I am?"

"And what are you, Dean?"

"More to you than your son. Just like you're more to me than my father."

John couldn't argue. He knew it was true. Had known if for a long time. It had been years since he'd thought of Dean solely as his son. "I could've taken him," he finally said

"'S fine. Besides, I think I'd go crazy waitin' on you to go back."

"Oh, so it's okay for me to go crazy?"

Dean looked a little startled. "Oh. Well, you can come with us."

"No. It's fine. Besides I…" I don't wanna get caught a block away from Jim's place makin' out with my kid by the side of the road. John swallowed thickly. "There are things I need to take care of here."

"Yeah. Okay. I won't be long."

Sam came back out with his duffle before John could think of anything to say.

"I'm ready."

"Okay, geek. Go on to the car. I've got your book bag."

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He was out the door almost before Dean finished.

"Drive careful," was all John could think to say.

Dean frowned, shifted his weight. "You don't have to do this… I mean… I kinda guilted you into it."

John fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them to his son. "If you're gonna be back before midnight, you'd better leave now."

Dean gripped the keys tightly. "Yes, sir." He glanced around to make sure Sam hadn't come back inside before pulling John's head down for a quick kiss.

He watched his son walk away. After that, he vacillated between what he should do when Dean got back. Twice, he almost left. He couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't do that. Whatever happened or didn't happen when Dean came home, he had to be here. They had to discuss it. And if they did have sex… he had to be in it for the long haul, until Dean decided it wasn't what he wanted anymore.

He should say no. He should tell Dean that there was nothing wrong with him, but he couldn't have a sexual relationship with his own father. He needed to find someone he could have a family with, a future with. If he was with John… they'd have to hide. Hide what they were to each other from everyone who already knew they were father and son. Hide that they were father and son from anyone who figured out they were lovers. After all, Dean deserved someone he could be with in public at least once in a while.

He paced for at least an hour and then decided to try to do something productive with his nervous energy. He went to his bedroom. It wasn't messy, he was never really messy, but it had been neater. He pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them in the wash and straightened up the room. Put the sheets in the dryer and started dusting random shit. He finally made himself stop after he remade his bed.

He sat on the couch and flipped through the channels. What was he doing? Dean was his son. He'd held him in his arms the day he was born, changed his diapers, fed him, burped him. Raised him. What the fuck was he doing? He sat up and bent forward, trying to control his breathing before he hyperventilated. Mary would be ashamed of him. Would probably have killed him if she'd known what he'd end up doing.

He closed his eyes as he remembered his son's words and took a deep breath. If he was crazy, Dean was obviously too. How they got here, exactly how John had managed to screw them both up this badly, wasn't the point anymore. They were here. John was a realist. He wanted Dean, Dean wanted him. They both knew it was wrong, had both struggled with it for years and weren't any closer to getting over it then they started. John could say no and they could keep struggling to make their lives work… or they could try this. It was crazy, definitely. But sometimes crazy worked.

"That's it," he sighed out. "I'm goin' to Hell."

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

Last Week…

"You're not gonna tell me what happened, are you?" Sam finally said after studying his brother from across the living room. They'd been watching a football game and it was halftime.

"No," Dean said flatly.

"It's just like when I was kid all over again." Dean frowned at him. "When you were sick and Dad kept sendin' me away. He even made me stay with Caleb for a couple days."

Dean huffed out a breath. "Dad was just keepin' a promise to me, Sammy. He said he wouldn't tell you unless you had to know. You never did, so…"

Sam frowned. "How… how bad was it?"

"Bad, but probably not the way you think. I'm an addict, Sam."

He huffed out a breath, feeling like he'd just been punched in the gut. "You… you use drugs?" Dean was an addict?

"Used to. I fucked up so bad, I can't even tell you. I stole 4K worth of drugs from a dealer."

"You're shittin' me?"

"Wish I were. Remember when I got jumped in that bathroom? That was the dealer I stole from. So, that's what was goin' on. I just never wanted to have to see that look on your face. It was bad enough to see it on Dad's. I didn't mean to make you feel left out."

"So, you got clean? Back then?"

"Yeah. Kept expectin' Dad to kick my stupid ass out."

"Dad would never do that."

"I know that now. But then… God, when I think about all the stupid shit I pulled. It's amazing I survived at all. And Dad… he just trusted me so much. I coulda told him the sky was orange and he woulda thought a tornado was comin'. After he found out about the drugs seemed like he was findin' out about somethin' else every five minutes."

"Like what?"

"Like… I hadn't been to school since tenth grade."

"But… you graduated, didn't you? You were in the twelfth grade when you got… sick."

"No, Sammy. I wasn't. I never went back for my junior year. Dad flipped when he found out."

"How… how could he not know?"

"Same way thousands of parents don't know what the hell their kids are really up to. They just assume they're doin' the right thing. It hurt him, to realize that he couldn't trust me. God, it took me so long to get that back. I worked so hard at it."

"Those meetings you were goin' to…"

"NA. I need to find one nearby."

"Shouldn't be too hard. This is a college town in California."

Dean snorted softly. "Yeah."

"Were you… when you got here… the shaking…"

"Someone spiked my coffee, Sam. I…" he looked away. "I should've been more careful."

"Someone… Did you call the cops?"

Dean laughed. "Dude. Since when do we call the cops for anything?"

"Then, what did you do?"

"I got away. I detoxed. Now I'm gonna go to NA. Probably do a freaking cleanse and hope the cravings don't kick my ass for too long this time."

Something about his brother's story didn't feel right once the shock of hearing it wore off. "Why would someone spike your coffee?"

Dean snorted. "Second guessin' me, Sammy?" Sam felt his face heat. "That's good. Addicts lie, dude. Trust but verify."

"That's not an answer."

"You're gonna try to get the whole story outta me anyway you can, aren't you?"

"You're the one who said 'trust but verify'."

Dean sighed. "I've been waitin' all your life for you to stop bein' such a pest. I'm just startin' to realize it ain't ever gonna happen. Fine. The drug dealer I stole from? We ran into each other again. All I know is I was at a diner finishing up breakfast, sober as a freakin' judge and the next thing I know, I'm high as a kite and he's there. Draw your own conclusions."

"So… he was tryin' to settle the score with you."

His brother winced. "Somethin' like that."

"That's why you were all banged up."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Dude… college wasn't wasted on you, was it?"

"Dean… did… that time at the gas station, when you got all beat to hell by those three guys…" He shuddered at the memory. He had been sure they would kill Dean by the time their father made it to the bathroom. Dean had been so bruised and cut up afterwards, and there had been so much blood. Their father had spent over an hour patching him up, stitching up the larger cuts and using butterfly bandages on the smaller ones while Sam packed Dean's clothes. His big brother had to ride in the back seat when they left, bags of ice nearly burying him. Sam couldn't remember being so afraid before. It had taken weeks for the bruises and swelling to go away completely. "He wants you dead, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. Dad stopped him then. I managed it on my own this time around."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. "So how'd you get away?"

"Luck. And a father who used to tie us up and leave us to see if we could figure out how to get outta the ropes."

"What else did the drug dealer do to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You take a lot of showers Dean," Sam said, looking down at his beer.

"Sweat a lot while you're detoxing, Sammy. Feels freakin' disgusting. Get a lotta muscle cramps too. The hot water helps."

Sam wasn't sure if he believed that or not. He wasn't sure of much of anything. He couldn't imagine anyone raping Dean. But then, he couldn't imagine Dean taking drugs. Or being stupid enough to steal from a dealer. Or not going to school for two years and hiding it from their father. What was that Dean had said again? Trust but verify.