AN: Chapter 4 is up and ready. I'm sorry that this story is slow going but I promise, it will get better and I will try to update more frequently. Thanks for all your lovely reviews and for sticking with me. I should mention that lookaliveerin has been a great help by giving me the plot bunny and nagging me in school to continue writing it so this is dedicated to her :)
I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter because I am very pro-gay and hate using homophobic language for the sake of the plot. Sorry if this offends anyone but you have been warned!
Warning: bad language, homophobia, child abuse (don't like, don't read)
Disclaimer: I wish I owned all this but only the plot is mine
Lessons were awkward for the whole day. Sam and Sherlock sat next to each other and barely said two words, apart from when they had to. Sherlock had tried to speak to Sam but hadn't gotten very far. Sam knew he was being mean by ignoring Sherlock but he was worried he would break down and spill everything that had happened with his dad to him. He felt so ashamed at himself and was in so much pain.
Sam thought that Sherlock hadn't noticed the slightly winces of pain as he sat down, or the soft gasps when he pulled the skin on his back. He was wrong.
Sherlock spent the whole day watching his friend with worry in his eyes. He tried to catch Sam's eye or to just speak to him, but Sam was determined to ignore him.
It was only at break when Sherlock caught Sam at his locker.
"I have noticed, you know?" Sherlock spoke behind Sam.
Sam shut his locker and turned around with his eyes focused on the floor. "Noticed what?"
Sam spoke so quietly that it was almost a whisper.
"I know that your dad has hurt you," Sherlock hissed but his voice softened when he saw Sam flinch. "I'm sorry about last night, Sam. I shouldn't have done what I did but I really like you and I want to care for you."
"It wasn't what you did," Sam said and raised his eyes to look at his friend. "I just…freaked, I guess."
Sherlock chuckled and ducked his head. "I'm sorry,"
Sam rested his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.
"Was it my fault?" Sherlock asked softly.
"What?" Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
"That you're dad hurt you," Sherlock said and raised his head.
"No," Sam admitted. "I got home after curfew and dad wasn't happy."
"You need to tell someone," Sherlock told Sam quickly. "You can't keep letting him hurt you."
"No," Sam shook his head vigorously. "If I tell someone, then me and Dean will be taken away from dad and no doubt separated."
"I don't like seeing you getting hurt," Sherlock admitted.
Sam chuckled softly. "I will if I can stay with Dean. And, in a few years, I'll be going off to college."
"Well, do you think we could…I dunno." Sherlock said, biting his lip.
"We could go to the movies on Friday," Sam suggested.
"Sounds good," Sherlock smiled and blushed softly.
"Okay," Sam hesitated slightly before putting a small kiss on Sherlock's cheek.
Sherlock grinned as he watched Sam hurry down the corridor and lightly pressed his fingertips on the spot that Sam's lips had touched moments before.
Friday came around quickly and it was time for Sherlock and Sam to head to the movies. Sam walked outside with Sherlock and they climbed into the back of the Impala. Dean had agreed with a wide smile to take Sam and Sherlock to the movies.
"Don't stay out to late, lover-boy!" Dean had grinned.
"Dean," Sam whined and hit Dean's arm. "We're going to the movies. Try using your upstairs brain sometimes."
Dean had laughed at that. "I don't know what you're talking about. You brought it up."
Sam had groaned and sat on his bed.
"Okay bean pole," Dean sighed. "I'll take you."
Sam grinned and threw his arms around Dean's neck.
"Thanks Dean. You're the best."
"You better believe it," Dean laughed and hugged Sam back. "Now, get to bed before dad whips both our hides."
"Strap in kids," Dean said as he pulled away. "You guys are paying for the petrol by the way."
Sherlock pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "I only have enough for the movies."
"He's joking, Sherlock." Sam told him.
"You sure about that, Sammy?" Dean asked as he looked at his brother in the rear view mirror.
"You're an asshole," Sam snapped without any venom in his voice.
"You want me to drop your ass on the side of the road and you can walk there?" Dean grinned.
"Jerk," Sam mumbled and slouched in his seat.
"Bitch," Dean shot back smiling.
The rest of the ride was spent in companionable silence.
Dean left the boys at the cinema and they bought their tickets, popcorn and drinks. They chose seats at the back of the movie screen and sat side by side.
Halfway through the film, Sherlock entwined his fingers with Sam and kissed his knuckles lightly. Sam smiled lovingly at his and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder.
For a moment, all of their problems had gone.
Six months had passed since the first time Sherlock had kissed Sam. It was one of the longest times Sam and Dean had ever spent in any one place and they had grown very fond of it and especially of the people around them. Sherlock and Sam spent as much time with each other as they could whilst keeping their relationship a secret. The only person who knew about them was Dean.
Sam couldn't imagine what would happen to him if his dad ever found out about their secret relationship and they both couldn't imagine how John Watson and his friends would react.
Dean had kept the secret and said nothing to the two boys about their relationship other than warning Sherlock the if he dared hurt his kid brother; there would be hell to pay.
Sherlock had given Dean his word that he would protect and love Sam more than anything in the world.
Sherlock and Sam spent a lot of time together and, when Sam's father was on a hunt, they even stayed at each other's houses.
During one of the weeks that Sam's father was away, Dean went to the bar with his friends allowing Sam and Sherlock full run of the house.
Together, they sat on Sam's bed kissing each other and cupping their faces within each other's hands.
Sherlock's fingers curled into Sam's chestnut locks.
"I love you, Sam." Sherlock declared softly against Sam's lips.
Sam grinned and bit Sherlock's bottom lip. "I love you too."
Suddenly, the door banged open and John Winchester stood in the door with a murderous look on his face.
"Dad," Sam squeaked and shuffled away from Sherlock. "I thought you weren't coming home for a few days."
"Well, I was in the bar in town," Sam's dad explained. "And I see Dean talking to some lads from school. Actually, more like arguing. I was about to step in when I hear this one boy accuse my youngest son of being a faggot." John stepped forward and gestured with his hands. "And here's the final proof."
Sherlock got quickly to his feet. "Please, Mr Winchester. Sam had nothing to do with this. I forced myself on him. It had nothing to do with him."
"Nice try, queer but I heard you both confessing your undying love for each other before I opened the door." John snarled viciously and prodded Sherlock in the chest. "I think you'd better leave and don't ever think you are welcome in my house again."
Sherlock glanced at Sam before straightening his posture and glaring at Sam's father. "No, I'm not leaving Sam alone."
John's top lip curled upwards and he smiled wickedly. "I thought you'd say that."
He gripped Sherlock's arm hard enough to bruise and yanked him out of the bedroom. Sam hurried after them begging his dad to leave him alone. John flung open the front door and pushed Sherlock outside before slamming and locking the door behind him.
"Dad, I'm sorry," Sam apologised with tears streaming down his face.
John's forehead was rested against the front door and he was breathing deeply though his nose in anger. He then turned slowly to face his son.
"I can't believe this," He spoke calmly which unnerved Sam. "My own son, a fucking faggot. This is why Dean was always the better fighter. You're a goddamn queer."
Sam swallowed but held his ground. "Me and Sherlock love each other and anything else is not your concern."
"How long has this been going on?" John spoke and walked slowly towards Sam.
"About six months," Sam mumbled knowing how his dad would react.
"Six fucking months," John roared and swiped everything off the coffee table before flipping it up in rage. "My son has had dick up his ass for six months? No doubt you've had it down your throat as well you filthy little shit!"
Tears fell freely down Sam's face as his father destroyed their house before rounding on him. The first blow to the face knocked Sam to the floor where John kicked his body again and again. It wasn't long before Sam stopped feeling the blows and felt completely numb.
Hands gripped the front of Sam's shirt and hauled him to his feet where he swayed.
"You are to pack a bag and get the hell out of my house," John growled and stormed out of the house.
'Most likely going to a bar to get off his face,' Sam thought before collapsing to his knees.
Sam heard the door open and two sets of panicked voices flooded the room. Sam tried to listen but it sounded underwater. Delicate hands caressed him and held his body against there's. He tried to speak but it only came out as a small moan.
The image above him came into focus and he saw Dean looking down at him and running his hands through Sam's hair.
"You're okay buddy," Dean told him and Sam noticed the tears rolling down Dean's face.
"Y'kay De?" Sam asked and raised a shaking hand to Dean's cheek, wiping the tears away.
Dean sniffled and rubbed his eyes. "I'm fine kiddo. It's you I'm worried about."
Tears rolled freely down Sam's cheeks.
"Dad, he found out." Sam explained. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."
"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Sammy." Dean told him. "But, right now, we need to see about getting you to a hospital."
"No," Sam moaned and tried to push away from his brother. "No hospitals. They'll wanna know what happened, Dean."
To prove to Dean that he was fine, Sam pushed himself to his feet before falling back to his knees.
"Sorry," He mumbled to Dean as his older brother held him close. "No hospital. I've had worse and you can take care of me."
"Oh Sam," Dean whispered and ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "Of course I'll take care of you. He won't hurt you again."
Dean guided Sam to the bed where he sat down and went to the bathroom to grab a damp cloth and some bandages. He crouched in front of Sam and wiped the blood from his nose and mouth before lifting Sam's shirt over his head. A gasp escaped Dean's lips when he saw the vivid bruises across Sam's chest and back.
Sam hissed in pain as Dean gently prodded Sam's ribs to check for breaks. He took some bandages and wrapped them around Sam's torso to protect them.
"I think they're just bruised but I've put a bandage on just in case." Dean informed. "I wanna check them first thing in the morning and we might take it off so you don't get pneumonia."
Sam nodded and stared blankly at his knees.
"Hey," Dean said and cupped Sam's cheek in his hand. "This was not your fault. Dad's a homophobic douchebag but he'll calm down; don't worry."
"He told me to pack a bag and leave," Sam spoke almost robotically.
"You're not leaving," Dean said gently. "I'm not letting you and dad can kiss my ass for all I care. You are the most important thing to me and who you love doesn't change that. Frankly, I'm relieved you're into di – I mean – guys. That means I don't have to teach you how to talk to chicks."
Sam laughed softly. "I still like girls, Dean. Just…Sherlock's different."
"I know, Sammy." Dean smiled at his brother. "I think Sherlock is good for you."
Sam grinned. "Thanks Dean."
"No problem, squirt." Dean teased and ruffled Sam's hair.
Sam laughed and batted his brother's hands away.
A short while later, Sam fell asleep with his head resting in the crook of Dean's arm. Dean smiled lovingly at his brother and planted a small kiss on the top of his head.
"Sleep tight, little man."
Suddenly, the door slammed open and a drunken John stumbled across the threshold of their room. His eyes landed on the two boys, snuggled together. A snarl erupted from the back of his throat when he saw his youngest son asleep in Dean's arms.
"What is that little fucker still doing here?" He growled.
Dean glared at his father.
"Maybe because he lives here," he hissed in an attempt to keep his brother asleep.
"No he doesn't!" John bellowed and startled Sam awake. "He is a fag and is no son of mine!"
Dean felt Sam's hand curl into the front of his shirt and held him tighter.
"Dad, if you can't handle the fact that Sam has found someone who loves him, then I suggest you leave or I'll leave with him." Dean stated and watched as his father's face contorted into a look of sheer horror.
"Fine," John snapped. "I'll stay at a motel during until it's time to pack up and move. Then you'll both be coming with me."
John then span on his heel and stormed to his room to pack. The brothers then heard the front door open and slam shut. They were finally able to breathe.
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