Unrelated

by john n dean

John is a simple man with a gorgeous wife and great kids. He has a solid business and a lucrative side occupation that appeals to his love of the military. He has one big problem, though. He's falling in love with someone else. Dean isn't a Winchester.

3. Chapter 3

Title: Unrelated, 3/9
Art by: beelikej
Pairing: John/Mary, John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 5027
Warnings: Explicit slash
Disclaimer: If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

A/N: See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story.

Chapter 3

"I'm shippin' out tomorrow," Dean said, slightly breathless.

They were barely a hair's width apart in the middle of John's office at the shop. For half an insane second, John thought the boy was propositioning him, but then he regained his sanity. Dean was just afraid. And who wouldn't be? It was his opinion that fearlessness was just another word for stupidity. Anyone who didn't have the good sense to be afraid when they were walking into danger didn't deserve to survive it. It was impossible to be brave without fear. What was bravery if not the ability to look squarely at the consequences, understand them fully and do the right thing anyway?

John wasn't sure what was stronger, the relief or the disappointment when the insanity of the moment before was over. Dean was flushed and still a little breathless. The idea of spreading him out underneath him on his desk or the couch and making love to him, to finally learn what he tasted and felt and sounded like, was so damn tempting. But that wouldn't happen. That couldn't happen, even if Dean wanted it as much as he did. He had no intention of leaving his wife, and even if he did he wasn't going to cheat on her before he ended things. He'd promised her fidelity and she deserved nothing less. If a Marine understood anything it was fidelity. He had nothing to offer Dean but his friendship and his loyalty and the boy already had that.

"Yeah, I know. It'll be okay. I know it's scary as hell… I was scared when I shipped out too. Just remember your trainin'. You… come back in one piece. You hear me, boy?"

Dean nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes sir."

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

In his own defense, Dean was sure that the fear of never seeing John again had led to temporary insanity. He'd been an inch away from declaring his undying love and offering his ass up on a silver platter. No one would know. You don't have to love me, just pretend you do just this once. Just give me somethin' to remember, something to hold on to while I'm bein' shot at out in a desert half a world away. We'll never have to talk about it again, it won't have to mean anything. The words had been on the tip of his tongue. He could practically taste them, bitter and desperate and dishonorable. In that short space of time, he would have done or said anything to get John to touch him and damned every one of the consequences. But the look on John's face had brought him back to his senses.

He knew he would shame himself in John's eyes if he ever offered something like that. That's if John hadn't taken him up on it, if he had been appalled by the very suggestion and kicked his stupid ass out of his office. It would have actually been worse if John had given him what he wanted. One of the things he loved most about the man was his loyalty and honor, the strength of his character. John was the type of man who needed to do the right thing as much as he needed to draw breath. If he threw all that away to be with Dean for a few hours then all his loyalty and honor would be worthless, his character damaged. He wouldn't actually be the man who Dean had loved all these years. Almost as bad, how would Dean ever look Mary or any of the kids in the eye again after betraying them like that?

So, while he ached for John's hands on his body, he realized that if he was ever able to beg or cajole or seduce John into doing it, even once, he'd destroy them both. Destroy the man John was and the man he himself had worked so hard to become. There was no honor in that. No loyalty to the people they both loved. He snorted softly at the irony. The things that made him love and want John the most were the same things that would always keep him from having him, even if John wanted him too.

He nodded when John told him to come back in one piece, tears stinging his eyes. "Yes sir," he'd said, as if a piece of him weren't already dying. As if he wouldn't be leaving part of himself with John. He couldn't come back in one piece, because he wouldn't be leaving in one piece. He couldn't even tell John he loved him, couldn't say goodbye the way he wanted to most, with his lips and hands and body. Suddenly it all seemed too much to deal with. "I gotta go."

John reached out and pulled him into a hug, strong arms holding him close and tight. He refused to allow himself to melt, to mold his body against John's. As abruptly as he'd pulled him close, the older man pushed him away. His eyes were suspiciously moist. "Go on, get outta here kiddo. I know you got a lot to do before you leave."

Dean nodded. "My folks are comin' to see me off. Would… could you and Mary and the kids come too?"

John nodded solemnly. "We'd be honored to be there."

Dean gave him a weak smile. All he could think was that John would never know the truth. He might die and John would never know how much he loved him. There was something unbelievably sad about that.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

John could definitely see what Sam saw in Jessica Moore. She was smart, gorgeous and sweet. But something seem off about the relationship to John. It had bothered him all through dinner, and it was still bothering him as he pulled his tie off.

"I think they're too young," Mary was saying as she rubbed cold cream on her face.

He shrugged his shoulders. That wasn't it… that was close, but not quite it. "We've known people who were younger and stayed together. No. They've got a worse problem. They're naive. They've got no clue how much work they're signin' up for. Or that things are what they are… not what you want 'em to be."

Mary slowly wiped the cream from her face. "I'm afraid, John. I'm afraid for Sammy. And for her. She seems like such a sweet girl."

John nodded. "She does. But what do we do? We can't tell Sam not to do it. In my experience that's the surest way to make sure he does. Boy's so damn obstinate."

"Wonder where he got that from," Mary turned towards him and smiled. John always liked her best with no makeup.

He snorted out a laugh. "I have no idea."

"Sure you don't."

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

The Colonel was dead. The thought raced through John's mind over and over like a dog chasing its own tail. He sat tall and straight in his dress uniform, awash in a sea of other men and women doing the same. Mostly family, but men and women who'd served under and with his father and some Campbells who'd come to pay their respects too. Their buttons, medals, swords and insignia gleamed brightly in the late afternoon sun against the deep blue of their immaculate uniforms. If it weren't for the civilian spouses and children in attendance, it would have looked like some sort of official Marine function.

John struggled to hold on to his composure. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be in his father's garden, sipping ice tea and listening to the Colonel talk about storming the beach at Iwo Jima, and how the Japanese had tricked them into thinking they were all dead until the first wave had advanced right in front of their entrenchments. How the volcanic ash that made up the Island prevented them from digging trenches and felt like quicksand underfoot and the whole thing was so horrific that they'd named the island "Hell's Acre". How he'd always been friends with their Navaho Code Talker John Eagle Feather, but that battle made them brothers.

The old man had taken up gardening in his dotage, as he called it. There had been nothing sickly about his father though. The man had passed away in his sleep, still fit and hardy. Just slipped away with no warning. And John somehow didn't feel like he was ready to be without him.

John had been named after that Code Talker his father served with, and the man had named his first born son Michael after the Colonel. The entire Eagle Feather family was there. John had grown up with Michael's children; his children had grown up with theirs. They were family to the Winchesters and always would be.

He stood on autopilot, having long since lost track of what was going on around him, clutching the flag that had draped his father's coffin as he listened to the 21 gun salute. One day this salute would be for him. Mary would be holding his flag. Or if he outlived her as his father had outlived his mother, Sammy would. Would his boy feel this way when he died? His relationship with Sammy had been stormy during Sam's teens, but time and distance had seemed to make it better. Maybe they'd be close again once the boy had a family of his own. Maybe he'd sit listening to John telling him war stories one day, the way he had when he was small and thought John had hung the moon. He'd like that. He'd like to share those things with Sam, and for Sam to treasure them the way he treasured the things that the Colonel had told him. What happened to a man in battle was sacred. He should be able to share it with his sons, especially his first.

Sam, Shauna and Andrew, in his NROTC uniform, were the only children who could make it. The rest were in warzones. He wanted them here, with him. It was a selfish wish. They had their own duties to fulfill. They didn't need to be home to mollycoddle their damn father. Mary stood next to him in her simple black dress, strong and silent, her hand on his arm. She was always there when he needed someone to lean on and he was grateful. And guilty, because his mind kept wondering to Dean. He wanted Dean here too. Wanted Dean to sit and drink with him and listen patiently while he went on and on about all the battles that his father had survived, how he'd earned his Purple Heart and Congressional Medal of Honor. How he'd been one of the few men who'd managed to survive earning it. The type of valor that it took to earn that medal would typically get the man who performed it killed. But like most Winchesters, the Colonel had been a tough old bastard who wasn't easy to kill.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

Mary found her husband in his den, a bottle of Jack on the desk next to the flag that had draped his father's coffin. He was nursing a tumbler that was about one fifth full. Her heart broke for him. He was a man used to fighting, but you couldn't fight grief. Losing people always hit him hard, and losing the Colonel… John had always spoken of his father with a kind of awed reverence. He had idolized the man long after most men realize that their fathers were only human.

She took the glass from his hand, took a sip, and placed it on the desk before climbing into his lap. She felt his strong arms encircled her. She never felt safer than she did when his arms were around her. She kissed his temple and smoothed down his unruly curls. He was still wearing his dress uniform, like he was reluctant to remove it. She had to admit that as much as she disliked the military, not even she was immune to a man in uniform. Especially a man as handsome as John and who wore it the way he did. Like a priest wore his vestments, filling it out in ways that few men she knew could. The Corps was like a calling for him and while she had seen it warp lesser men, it just seemed to make him stronger. She may not believe in militaries, but she believed in her husband, in uniform and out.

He tilted his head back and she kissed him, caressing his cheek softly. "Come to bed, love."

He smiled at her, like she was the whole world. "Okay."

John let her lead him up the stairs, let her help him undress and hang his uniform back up in its garment bag. Then they made love with a slow urgency that left Mary feeling full of him, surrounded by him. He kissed her, nipped at her neck, whispered her name in a way that made her shiver. His calloused hands were gentle, like they always were with her.

"I love you, Mary." John's voice was soft in the darkness as he held her close. That was the one thing that she'd never had cause to question. From what she could tell, Winchesters loved for life. Like elephants or eagles.

She drew lazy patterns on his stomach with her fingertips as she listened to his heart slowly settling into its natural rhythm. She turned her head to press a kiss against his sweat damp skin. "I know. I love you too."

They drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

"Damn, I'm gonna miss the Colonel," Andrew said. The sweet odor of the cigars they were smoking encircled them as they sat at the picnic table in back of the house. The smell comforted Sam. His father rarely smoked, but the Colonel almost always had a cigar in his mouth. Even if they weren't lit, he chewed on them. John had given them a few of the cigars from the Colonels personal stash, and told them that as long as they kept them outside he'd keep their mom off their backs. "I swear, we shoulda taped some of the shit he'd come up with."

"Yeah, we really should have," Sam agreed, chewing on the end of his the way their grandfather used to. The whole day had felt surreal to him. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea that he'd never see the Colonel again, never hear that raspy, booming voice. It also made him consider his own father's mortality. One day, that could be him standing at John's graveside, the way John had stood at the Colonel's. The idea made him sad. Maybe even a little frightened. Being John Winchester's son, especially his first son, was a heavy burden. The man cast a huge shadow. But the idea of not having him around anymore was not a welcome one.

"'If you've ever been in the water,'" Shauna rasped out in an imitation of her grandfather's voice, "'when a hand grenade goes off, it's like stickin' an egg beater up your butt and puttin' a wild man on the crank.'"

Everyone burst into laughter.

"'You kids these days are spoiled rotten,'" Sam piped up. "'Closest thing we had to a grenade launcher in my day was this kid from Iowa with one hellova throwin' arm.'"

"'You knew when one of them Navy boy was gettin' lucky.'" Andrew could barely keep a straight face, drawing on his cigar in an attempt to catch his breath. "'All you could hear was 'fire in the ho! Fire in the ho!'"

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

John didn't have much use for computers. That is until he learned how to use Skype. As far as he was concerned, Skype was the most awesome invention known to man. It let him talk to his three kids that were overseas. And Dean too… Dean Skyped them once a week, just like his kids did. Sometimes, John wanted to just talk to him alone, his old obsession flaring to life again. Mostly, though, he was happy to share the boy with the rest of the family. They all loved Dean too. And Dean loved them. Since he was the first to ship out, everyone was anxious to stay in touch. That had actually been the whole reason he'd learned to Skype in the first place. Sam showed up at the shop one day while he was home for winter break with a computer and a bunch of other things from best buy. John made a mental note to take the kid's name off the shop's credit card while he skeptically watched the boy set everything up.

"I have important shit on there!" He complained loudly when Sam unceremoniously dumped his old computer in the trash.

"I transferred everything." The boy sat him in front of the new one and John blinked at the colorful alien landscape on the huge flat screen.

"At least I knew how to use the old one."

Sam snorted softly. "You'll figure out this one too. Trust me. Besides, that old dinosaur couldn't Skype."

"It couldn't what?" John looked at his son over his shoulder, frowning.

"It's this new thing that allows you to talk to soldiers oversees on your computer. For free."

"You mean… we can talk to Dean?"

"Yep. And see him. He should be online in five minutes."

John looked at the new computer in awe. "Really?"

"Yes sir. You're internet connection is fast enough so all you needed was a good computer. Merry Christmas."

"What do you mean, Merry Christmas? You used my money."

"But I put it together," Sam protested, sounding injured. "And now you can talk to Dean and all the others when they go marchin' off God knows where."

John snorted softly. "Thank you, son. It's a good present."

Operation Desert Storm started not a month before Dean took the Officer's Oath and received his sword. John felt an uncomfortable rush of arrival as he remembered the day Dean shipped out, how he'd shown up in that very room, looking all flushed and breathless and beautiful. He'd been twenty three then, but he still looked like a teenager, like a baby. Too young to go off to war. But it had been almost the same path John had followed and he was damn proud of the boy. Just as proud as he'd been later when his own children had gotten their own commissions. There had been letters, every week like clockwork, but he hadn't seen Dean in months.

He could barely contain his joy at seeing that smile and those sparkling green eyes again. They spent an hour talking, and it didn't feel like enough time. He missed Dean every bit as much as he missed his kids. Dean had actually been the first to go, since he was a little older than John's kids. He hadn't realized how attached he'd gotten to the boy until he wasn't there. They skyped once a week after that, usually with at least some of the rest of the family crowded around John's desk.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

Two years into Dean's NROTC training at the University of Kansas, Sam left for Stanford. After that it was a blur as each child left the nest and now Andrew was two years from being gone too. Eight years. In just eight short years, half his children and Dean were rotating in and out of Afghanistan and Iraq. He worried about all of them, every bit as much as Mary did. He wasn't quite sure how he'd deal with it if one or more of them died and really the odds were not in his favor in terms of getting them all back in one piece. John was too much of a realist not to understand that. It didn't stop him from nearly bursting with pride whenever he saw their pictures, lined up on his desk in their dress uniforms with the Stars and Strips in the background. Shauna's picture was there too with her sister and brothers. It had been taken the day of her graduation from Quantico. And because he believed in being fair and he was no less proud of what Sam had accomplished, he'd added a copy of Sam's graduation picture to the collection. It was actually first in line since it was in order of their age.

It would be another three years before Sam would be done with law school and John was relieved that he'd decided to practice in Kansas. He knew that they were all adults, and Sam could mostly likely get a higher profile job somewhere like California or New York, but John didn't like having his children any further away than a few hours' drive. Not that he'd ever tell any of them that. They needed to make their own decisions.

And it wasn't just their locations that had changed. Sam and Jessica were planning their wedding. They were just a little too saccharine together for John's taste, but if that's what Sam wanted then he was happy for him. Riley had finally figured out the whole boy thing and was serial dating. Unfortunately she was overseas in the Corps and John lived in perpetual fear that she'd get mixed up with the wrong people and end up dishonorably discharged for fraternization. Nobody in his family had ever been dishonorably discharged before. Shauna was dating one of the Eagle Feathers, which felt right to John. They were family, but not blood. It would be nice to have the families officially tied together one day.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

It was odd, being back stateside after two tours in country. It was rare for an officer to have two fourteen month tours in a row in the same place so early in his career, but the Corps was stretched a little thin and he'd distinguished himself, so Dean ended up pulling two tours in Iraq on his first deployment. It didn't hurt either that everyone kept assuming that he was somehow a Winchester. He had to tell people that he wasn't a Winchester so often that he eventually got the nickname Unrelated. He finally stopped trying to set things straight when people started asking him why he was called Unrelated. He'd just grunt and say it was 'cause he was unrelated. People gave up trying to figure it all out when they realized they weren't going to get a real answer and combat earned him a new nickname. That was a rare thing, to get a new nickname after one had already been assigned to you, and Dean was incredibly grateful. What kind of nickname was Unrelated for a Marine?

The desert had been hot and sandy, which of course was the very definition of a desert. But even so, it was really the only way to describe it. Sand got everywhere, in everything, and a person never felt like they could ever get completely clean. Being in an Abrams didn't help, the space was tight and cramped and usually overly warm despite the air con. The only time that was a plus was on the nights when the temperature dropped precipitously and it was suddenly cold and sandy. Or during a sand storm. The best damn place on earth to be during a sand storm as an A1H1 tank. He did get to know his men and, even though it was surreal to be in responsible for so many people, he earned their respect.

The weirdest thing about being back stateside was that someone thought it was a good idea to assign him to teach a class on the basics of armored warfare at Annapolis. He was nervous as hell when he started, but soon found he actually enjoyed it. The brass seemed happy with what he was doing in the classroom and nobody ever showed up to tell him that they'd made a mistake. John had been enthusiastic from the start. The man had always been his biggest cheerleader, always believing that Dean could do shit that it had never even occurred to him to try. Sam had teased him mercilessly before telling him he knew he was up for it.

It had been a long time since he'd been with a man when Robert, one of the other instructors, propositioned him. The guy turned out to be a lot subbier than he appeared and he was on his knees begging for a taste of Dean's dick almost before he got his door locked behind them.

It wasn't the world's most satisfying sex, but did the job. Robert was good with his mouth, had a nice tight ass, and clearly enjoyed cock. Afterwards, Dean lay on his bunk next to him feeling crowded and wondering what was the most tactful way to get the man to leave.

"I've wanted you to fuck me since orientation."

Dean frowned at him, he hoped that wasn't a sign that Robert wanted more than to let off a little steam. "That so?"

"Everyone said that you were straight, that they'd seen you with women… but I had a feeling about you."

"I'm bisexual. So they did see me with women." In fact he had a date later one tonight. He needed to get ready, so Robert needed to go sooner rather than later.

"Oh. Which do you like better?" he asked, sounding curious. Everyone was always curious, like he was a circus freak.

"Like 'em both about the same. Neither one's better… just different. Look, I need to get some shut eye."

"Yeah. Me too," Robert said, getting up and beginning to dress. "Let me know if you want to do that again."

After his tour at Annapolis, he took a mountain survival course. It was two weeks of hell. But he managed to survive it. After that he spent a year taking advanced classes at the Expeditionary Warfare School back at Quantico. He'd been nervous about it at first, but he seemed to have a head for tactics, operations and strategy. It wasn't like math and literature and his brain soaked it up like a sponge soaking up water.

Shauna lived nearby and he often went out with her and her boyfriend, sometimes taking a date of his own. Sean Eagle Feather – despite the girly sounding name – was a Marine too. He liked him despite himself. Shauna and Riley were like little sisters to him and his first instinct was always to put the fear of God into anyone the girls were seeing. He and John had even greeted Shauna's prom date wearing t-shirts and brandishing guns. Dean sat at the table cleaning his the entire time, never taking his eyes off the poor boy. John just stood near the fireplace and stared at the kid. Shauna was home by ten that night and didn't speak to either of them for a week. But Sean impressed him so much that he even started hoping that Shauna would marry the guy. She seemed to be pleased that he approved.

He took the desert survival course once he finished his classes. The thing kicked his ass worse than the mountain survival course and he was barely recovered by the time he was promoted and assigned to a Marine Expeditionary Unit, or MEU, and stationed in Camp Lejune.

MEUs were basically a large mixed company of units with a total of about 2,200 Marines that spent months at sea and kept ready to deploy at a moment's notice. The size and composition of the deployed force would depend on the mission. Dean was a Captain now and he was in charge of the armored units, which meant he was responsible for over 200 Marines consisting of ten tank units and nineteen amphibious assault vehicle units. His area of responsibility included billions of dollars' worth of equipment, including four Abrams tanks, six light tanks and 19 amphibious armored vehicles. In addition, he was responsible for advising the Colonel who commanded the MEU regarding armored tactics. No pressure there.

He'd spent two hours on the phone with John freaking out the night before his MEU was deployed for three months of training exercises. Once he was out in the field, though, it was like he was in the zone. He saw the scenario and he knew what needed to be done. He put the plan and contingencies together with the other unit leaders, half expecting them to suddenly realize that he didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground and get someone who did. But that never happened. He was looked at as an authority.

When his ideas worked the way he conceived of them – more or less, because nothing ever went exactly to plan or you wouldn't need contingencies – despite every hiccup imaginable being programmed into the exorcise, he had so many emotions running through him he wasn't sure how he felt. Pride, fear, relief, exhilaration. He'd emailed John that night the minute he got to his billet, telling him everything that wouldn't get him court marshaled. He went on to take part in several successful missions during his tour in MEU. Eventually, his input was even sought out when his units weren't required.

After MEU, he was deployed to Afghanistan and then back to Quantico to teach an advanced class in tank warfare. Then he was promoted to Major and deployed back to Iraq one last time. He decided he wanted to go home after that. He loved the Corps and had grown into a man there, had gained confidence through it. His promotions were coming a year or two faster than normal, and he had a feeling he could go as far as he wanted. He didn't dare hope that he could make General, but he did know he could make it to Colonel. Like John's father. But he missed home. Not Texas where he'd spent the first five years of his life and his parents had returned to. Kansas was his home. Kansas and the Winchesters. He signed up for the Individual Mobilization Augmentee (IMA) reserves and headed back to Kansas.