Chapter Text
Dean Winchester, 17 years old, First Day of Senior Year:
“YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS UP BOY! IF I GET A CALL AT WORK THAT YOU’RE LATE TODAY YOU’LL BE RUNNING LAPS AROUND THE WHOLE DAMN APARTMENT COMPLEX YOU HEAR ME?”
“Yes sir,” Dean called back, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face, rolling his eyes as he heard his dad slam the door behind him. The first day of the year, and his dad was already on a kick - like he fucking cared if Dean went to school or not. His dad, John, was an ex-Marine, and never seemed to leave that life behind, drilling it into his son since he was old enough to understand what the words ‘run laps’ meant.
Not that Dean particularly cared - all the training left him in pretty good shape, making him one of the most popular guys in his grade, and of course, he was fucking hot. He knew this, and he knew how to use his looks to get what he wanted, usually when he wanted. Every one knew what a playboy he could be, and yet all the girls wanted to get with him, and hell, some of the guys did too.
Not that he could blame them. With his dark blonde hair, bright green eyes, freckles, and pink pouty lips, Dean was pretty much a walking wet dream to everyone who met him, including most of his teachers.
But his dad had told him if he skated by this year, he would be on the end of some serious training, so he had to get his ass in gear.
With a grumble, he pulled himself out of bed and got ready for his last year of school.
…
Sam Campbell, 15 years old, First Day of Sophomore Year:
Sam woke up before his mom could even knock on his door. He was anxious - he had just moved here in the last month, he didn’t know anyone, and he was about to start his sophomore year. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already a freak enough as it was - still slight for his age, he was all arms and legs.
Between that, his shaggy brown hair and wide hazel eyes, he looked much younger than his 15 years of age. But his mom, Mary, the sweetest woman he had ever met, always told him he was going to grow into a large, beautiful man, he just had to wait for his growth spurt to hit.
That couldn’t happen soon enough in his opinion, but whatever. He couldn’t dwell on it right now - no, right now he had to get up and get ready.
“Sam!” his mom called, poking her head into his room, giving him a soft smile. “I have to go on to work, so you okay to get yourself to school?”
“Sure mom,” he said, giving her a small smile.
“You be good today okay. And if anyone gives you trouble -”
“I can take care of myself. Go.”
“I’ll see you tonight. Dinner, 7. Can’t wait to hear all about it,” she said, blowing him a kiss before she disappeared. He heard the door close, and he took a deep breath.
Sophomore year. New school. He could do this.
…
Dean was locking up the door to the apartment, shrugging on his trademark leather jacket, when he heard the door across the hall click close. He heard his dad talk about new neighbors moving into the apartment across from them, but he hadn’t got to meet them yet.
Turning, he was met with wide hazel eyes, and Dean felt like the floor was crumbling beneath his feet.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, easily falling into cocky Dean Winchester, a smirk gracing his lips as he stared at the teen who was eyeing him with an unimpressed look in his eyes. “Hi. I’m Dean.”
“Sam,” he said casually, locking his door and shouldering his backpack. Sam looked at the guy - man, he was probably the hottest guy Sam had ever seen, and he came from California , but he could easily tell the type of guy Dean was - someone who thought he was hot shit, and could get whoever he wanted whenever he wanted.
Sam wasn’t impressed. He gave him a small smile and walked down the hallway, willing the blush to disappear from his cheeks. He didn’t want to give this guy the pleasure of seeing how he had flustered him with just a fucking look.
Dean watched him go, eyes on the new kid’s ass - man, those jeans were doing him all sorts of favors. Dean wasn’t stupid - he could tell the kid was younger than him, but come on, what was a couple years between lo-
Nope. Dean wasn’t going down that road. Shit like that didn’t exist .
“Hey!” he called, hurrying down the hallway. “You go to the high school?” he asked, making the kid turn to look at him, eyes narrowed. “What grade are you?”
“Tenth,” Sam said, not convinced by the smile Dean was giving him.
“Want a ride?” Dean cocked his head towards a sleek black car, and Sam had to admit, that was impressive. “Come on pretty boy, one ride won’t kill you.” Sam bristled at the pet name, hazel eyes turning steely gray as he met Dean’s green ones.
“Go fuck yourself.” With that, Sam turned on his heel and began the walk to school. Dean watched him go, not sure if he was more pissed or turned on.
…
As Dean drove to school, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the music blasting, he thought of his mom. He hadn’t thought about her in years, not since she had passed away when he was so young. He remembered her pulling him into her lap, whispering to him.
“ How did you know you loved daddy?” Dean had asked, small and spoiled, always amazed by the love he could see between his parents.
“It was love at first sight,” she had told him, whispering softly to him as she tried to get him to sleep. “Just like the fairytales. He was my prince, and I was his princess. As soon as I saw him, our eyes met, and I knew.” She had giggled and placed a kiss to his nose, making him smile so happily at her. “Just like as soon as I saw you, I knew I would love you too.”
Dean thought about that, his face twisting now in anger - he had long lost the sense of love, of any strong feeling like that. Lust he could do - hell, he was sure he got laid more than many guys his age; but fuck, there was something, in those hazel eyes, when he had looked into them…
Man, Dean needed to get laid.
…
Sam had made it to lunch without making a complete idiot of himself, and had even made a friend with a nice girl named Jessica, who shared quite a few of his advanced classes and his lunch, so he figured it was a good way to start the year.
“So, California, huh? Why’d you move to Kansas of all places?” she asked Sam, making him shrug as he took a bite of his sandwich. He knew why he and his mom left, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it.
“Mom needed a change of scenery,” is all he said, feeling like someone was staring at him. He looked away from Jessica to catch a pair of bright green eyes watching him, looking smugly at him, even with a long-legged blonde girl in his lap. “What the hell do you know about that Dean guy?” he asked, tilting his head towards them. "He lives in the apartment across from me and has been staring at me every time I see him today.”
Jessica sighed, but not in the airy way many girls sighed when they caught sight of Dean Winchester. Hers was more a sigh of annoyance.
"Dean Winchester. 17. Playboy. Doesn't care about anyone but himself. Everyone from like fifth grade up knows who he is. Kind of hard to miss someone so cocky,” she said, tilting her head at Sam, eyes bright. “He’s an asshole. Don’t worry about him.” Sam nodded his agreement - it was obvious that Dean wasn’t someone for him to worry about, but yet he found his eyes meeting piercing green ones across the cafeteria.
…
For the next month, every day Sam would leave for school, where Dean would either be leaving his apartment at the same time or waiting outside leaning against his car. Dean would wave, smirk, and ask the same question every day.
“Want a ride?”
“Go fuck off.”
Sam would flip him off and walk to school, his heart racing every time. He wouldn’t look back, so he wouldn’t notice the longing that slipped into Dean’s eyes every day.
August had blended into September, and September was slowly turning into October. The school was in a flurry of activity preparing for the week of homecoming. Jessica had begged Sam to help her plan the dance, which was how he found himself on a ladder in the gym, hanging up a string of lights, Jessica feeding them to him as he looped them around.
“So, you have a date for the dance?’ she asked, making Sam glance down to see her wiggle her eyebrows at him playfully.
“No, and I don’t want one,” he said as he began to climb down the ladder towards her.
“Good. Me neither. So meet here at 8?” Sam turned to her, seeing her grin which was much too sarcastic for him to not smile back at.
“Sure. 8 it is.”
As Sam and Jessica shared a small laugh, they didn’t notice Dean leaning against the gym door, tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he watched Sam.
Man, he didn’t even know the kid, but Dean had it bad .
…
It was Saturday afternoon- tonight was the dance, and Sam really didn’t have anything else to do until he met with Jessica that evening. He had set out to try to go for a walk around the neighborhood, but when he had gotten out of the apartment building, he stopped because Dean was outside, spread out under his car. And as much as Sam didn’t want to, he found himself moving closer.
“What are you doing?” Dean poked his head out, grinning at Sam.
“Hey Sammy. Just giving Baby a tune-up. How about you let me clean up, and then I’ll give you a ride?” Sam just stared at him in a look that Dean was beginning to dub as his ‘bitch-face’. “Come on. One ride. Please?”
“You get 5 minutes. If you’re not back out here, I’m not waiting.” Dean grinned and climbed out from under the car, lowering it back down.
“Wait right here pretty boy. Don’t move.” Dean caught the flash of Sam rolling his eyes as he turned away and hurried into the building.
"And it's Sam!!"
…
4 minutes later, Sam was curled into the front seat of the Impala, Dean driving him around town.
“So, we haven’t really gotten to talk much,” Dean started as he pulled into the lot next to the park. “And there’s no harm in talking, is there?” Sam shrugged, pointedly not looking at Dean who was unbuckling next to him.
Sam knew how guys like Dean acted - he had seen plenty of them in California, and really, he was over the whole too cool attitude. Why had he agreed to this? Just because the guy was hot? How shallow did that make Sam? He didn’t want someone just because they were attractive - he wanted someone that he connected with, not just on a physical level but on a romantic, real one too.
And he tried not to think how his heart had fluttered the first time he had met Dean Winchester.
“So I heard you came from California.” Sam just nodded again. “What was it like?” Sam met his eyes now, feeling a blush begin to spread over his cheeks as he took in Dean’s expression - gone was the cocky smirk, the expectant look of everyone giving him everything he wanted. He looked almost vulnerable . Sam felt his breath hitch in his chest - no one had ever looked at him like that before.
“It was nice. It was… it was home. I spent pretty much my whole life there. And then, it was gone. My school, my friends, my… life.” Sam stopped then and looked at Dean, who was watching him still, a weird look in his eyes.
Dean was pretty sure he was burning alive - just listening to Sam’s voice, that still slight teenage crack and lilt to it that he himself had gone through a few years ago ever present, watching as Sam’s lips moved with his words, his eyes growing distant as he talked about California.
“Enough about me,” Sam said, face heating up as he focused on his hands, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. “Have you always been here?”
“Since I came screaming and kicking into the world,” Dean said, trying to fight the tension that seemed to be building in the car. He had no problem talking to people - he had gotten plenty of girls and guys with his wordplay alone. So why was it so hard for him to talk to Sam like this? Why did it make him feel like he was going to throw up and scream at the same time? Dean didn’t like this feeling, but he never wanted it to go away either. “I thought about leaving so many times, to find out if there was something out there for me, but I always stay. My mom always said it was because I was waiting for…” Dean trailed off now,chuckling a bit. Maybe his mom had been right all along.
“For what?”
“For that something to come to me.” Dean met Sam’s eyes, watching the way the colors seem to shift as he looked at him, his bottom lip now pulled between his teeth. And Dean was fucking terrified . He didn’t do feelings like this - hell, he didn’t do feelings period. But Sam was stirring something in him.
Sam felt the same way - he barely knew this guy, but he felt like he had him painted all wrong.
They spent the rest of the day sitting in Dean’s car, just talking about everything and nothing and all of the things in between. Dean was impressed to learn that Sam was so smart, even already thinking of which colleges he wanted to go and what he wanted to do with his life. Sam was interested to learn how much Dean knew about cars, how he had restored the very car they were sitting in, and how he had a part time job at the local garage working for his uncle. They learned their likes and dislikes, and to them both, it felt like a piece of themselves had fallen into place.
Sam was laughing at a story Dean was telling him about this uncle and dad involving a misplaced magnet and a toolbox, when he happened to glance at the clock.
“Oh crap,” Sam said, not realizing how long they had spent just sitting there, talking, and, when he looked back at Dean, he realized how close they had scooted towards each other. “I have to go get ready for the dance tonight. I told my friend Jessica I’d meet her there.”
Dean’s face immediately closed off, all emotion dropping off from it. Sam didn’t want to see that happen, so he hesitantly placed a hand on Dean’s leg, causing the older teen to glance up at him.
“I could use a ride…?” Dean gave him a small smile as he started the car and began the drive back.
…
Dean met Sam outside at a quarter to eight, his head jerking up as Sam walked towards him in a pair of nice jeans - very nice in the way they clung to his hips and oh, Dean had to blink to look away - and look up at the dark blue polo that he was wearing. Sam had to take a second look at Dean as well - his jeans had holes in the knees, of course they did, but he had traded in his leather jacket and t-shirt combo for a dark gray button down.
“Ready?” he asked, already going to get in, but stopping midstep, turning back around to open the passenger door for Sam, who blushed as he slipped inside.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Dean smiled at him - no smirk, but an honest-to-god smile, and got into the car. The drive to the school was silent between them, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable - it was more like a soft, just being together silence. As they pulled into the parking lot, Dean turned to Sam.
“You wanna go out with me? Tomorrow night? Dinner?” he asked, the light dusting of freckles on his cheeks standing out against the blush he wanted to hide. Sam smiled and gave him a small nod.
“Yeah, yes.”
…
They played this song-and-dance for the next two months - Sam began letting Dean drive him to school, Sam and Jessica would eat lunch with Dean and his friends, and they would often go out after school to eat and would go home, then Dean would go to work and Sam would do homework, and sometimes when it got dark, they’d sit outside on the hood of the Impala and just watch the stars, Dean’s arm around Sam so he could lean into him.
And for Sam, it was … nice. But it really didn’t go anywhere. Dean still flirted with other people half the time, and Sam just pretended he didn’t notice, because it’s not like they were actually dating, where they?
Really, it was more like they were hanging out. And Sam was fine with that, really he was. But he actually really liked Dean, and thought Dean had felt the same way…
Until he wasn’t sure any more.
It was a Friday afternoon, one week until winter break hit, when things began to change. Sam was at his locker, talking to Jessica about hanging out over the break, when he could hear the people three lockers away talking.
“I heard that someone saw Dean Winchester going out behind the Ag building with that guy Wes from fourth period. Three guesses what they were probably doing,” a voice snickered, and Sam felt his shoulders stiffen. Jessica frowned, but neither moved as they conversation continued. “I thought he was dating that sophomore, the Campbell kid.”
“Oh please, like some scrawny kid can give Dean what he really needs. Besides, Dean doesn’t date. He never has. He’s a love-em-and-leave-em kind of guy. Poor kid just has a crush on him I think.” More snickering, and Sam slammed his locker closed.
“Sam come on, we can eat lunch in the library,” Jessica said, linking her hand with his and pulling him away from the crowded hallway. They curled up together in a small table at the back of the library, pulling out their lunches and beginning to eat. Well, Sam tried to eat, but those words played in his head and turned his stomach. “Hey,” Jessica said, laying a hand on Sam’s arm, eyes soft. “It’s okay. Don’t… don’t feel bad. I’ve heard he does stuff like this.”
“But for months? We spend every day together Jess. He doesn’t act like… he doesn’t act like asshole Dean around me like he does here. He’s different. The way he looks at me… I thought it meant something. But he hasn’t even… tried to touch me. Like he doesn’t hold my hand or any of that shit. Not that I need it.. But it would be nice you know?” Jess frowned and slid her hand into Sam’s.
“Use the office phone. Call you mom and tell her you’re gonna hang out with me this afternoon. We’ll go watch bad movies and pretend that the great heartbreaker Dean Winchester doesn’t exist. Sound good?”
Sam nodded, and Jessica was glad to see her friend smiling, but knew she planned on having a few words with Dean the next time she saw him.
…
“Sam’s coming home with me today.” Dean stared at the small blonde girl, Sam’s best friend Jessica. She had pulled him from the lunchroom right before the bell rang, and dragged him into the hallway to gripe at him.
“Why? Is he okay?” That protective feeling Dean got whenever he was with Sam spiked up, but the blonde girl just glared at him, green eyes hard.
“Oh stop pretending like you care.” Okay, that kind of stung. Dean cared about Sam. He cared a lot . “I love Sam. I’m not going to watch you drag him around anymore like your own little puppet.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked - he thought he and Sam were good, so what the hell was going on? Jessica just shook her head and shouldered past him, leaving the 17-year old confused and standing alone in the hallway.
..
Dean was sitting on the steps that led up to their apartments when Sam got dropped off by Jessica and her mom that night.
Sam stopped, shouldering his bag, eyes hard as he met Dean’s as he stood up. Dean could feel the anger rolling off of Sam, and he didn’t understand. These last couple of months had been great, Dean had thought he and Sam were doing good. What had happened?
“I missed you this afternoon. I didn’t work, so-”
“Okay,” Sam said, cutting him off and going to move past him. Dean placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, but the younger stepped out from his touch.
“Sammy-”
“Don’t. Don’t call me that.” Dean felt like he had been slapped. He had called Sam ' Sammy' since they had met, and yeah, Sam joked about it, but he never sounded so cold when he told Dean to stop.
“Okay what’s going on? Did I do something? I’m sorry for whatever it was I did. But you gotta talk to me.” Sam’s back was to Dean, but he threw down his backpack and whirled around on Dean, eyes now wet as he fought back the angry tears that wanted to fall.
“You didn’t do anything. And that’s the thing. I thought we were doing good, I thought maybe you felt something for me, maybe what everyone said about you weren’t true. But nothing happened. Nothing changed. You still flirted with anyone who looked your way, and I pretend to not notice. And I figured you were still screwing anyone who wanted you, and then today I knew for sure you were when the whole school was talking about you and some guy. So what were these last couple months, huh? Just waiting to see if I flung myself at you like everyone else does? Maybe wanted me to be your slut-on-demand? Well fuck you Dean Winchester. I’m through.” Sam went to stomp up the stairs - rather dramatically, he may add - when Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him back, his back meeting Dean’s chest.
“Baby I’m sorry,” Dean said, the nickname slipping out and making Sam’s shoulders tense. “I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t want you. I want you so badly it kills me to not be around you. Ever since I first met you, I wanted to see you, and talk to you, and fuck, I don’t know how to do this.” Sam was silent, but he didn’t move, so Dean kept going. “It has taken every ounce of my self control to not just grab you and ravish you every time I fucking see you,” he said, one hand braced against Sam’s hip, the other finding his hand and linking their fingers together. “I didn’t want you to just be another person, I wanted to do it right with you. I haven’t even so much as looked at another person since you and I started… whatever we have.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked, turning to lean into the older teen now that they were face to face. Dean just shrugged and brought the hand up that had been on Sam’s hip, to his face, cupping it around his cheek. Their eyes flickered between each other’s and their lips before Sam tilted his face up, just a bit. Dean took that as permission to move closer, letting his lips barely brush against the younger’s lips. Sam shuddered and stepped as close as he could get, and just barely parted his lips.
Dean took the invitation, pressing his lips against Sam’s in a hungry kiss, trying to push all of his feelings into this one moment. Sam kissed back just as urgently, his hands coming to fist into the soft material of Dean’s shirt.
The urgency died down and the two of them just stood there, in their own little world as their lips moved together in languid, soft movements.
Until Dean's dad pulled up into the parking lot. He slammed his truck door shut and stormed up to them. Dean pulled the younger teen behind him, as if to shield him from his father.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" John Winchester was mad, staring down the teenager. Dean just stood tall, his hands locked onto holding Sam behind him.
"Kissing my boyfriend, what the hell does it look like I'm doing!" Dean yelled back, making his father's face begin to turn red. Dean turned his head to glance at Sam. "Go home baby. I'll talk to you later."
"But Dean-"
" Go. Please." Sam gave a jerky nod and moved away from Dean, grabbing his bag and running up the stairs and into the building. Dean watched him go before he looked at his father.
"Have you lost your fucking mind boy?" Dean stared at him, jaw tense and hands fisted by his sides. "You know you don't have time for this nonsense. It's one thing to fuck the female population of your high school in a parade through my living room, but a boyfriend?! You ain't meant for anything serious like that, and you're an idiot for thinking that you can live that way."
"Mom."
John Winchester stared at his son, face paling now as he met the now angry eyes of the teenager.
"Mom said she fell in love with you as soon as she saw you. Well that's what I had with Sam! I know it's not what you planned-"
"How do you plan on enlisting with some… twink hanging off your arm?"
"DON'T FUCKING CALL HIM THAT. And who said I wanted to enlist?!? That's your life dad, not mine. You raised me to be the best I could be, and if I wanna join something, I will. But right now, I just want to get through senior year, and I want to do that with Sam Campbell as my boyfriend!"
“Shit like this will get you killed. And I didn’t raise no fucking pansy.”
…
Sam sat in his living room, his mom next to him.
"So you're… dating , the Winchester boy?"
"His name is Dean. And yes?"
"Why does that sound like a question?"
"Well, we haven't really talked about it…" Mary nodded and reached for his hand.
"Okay. Okay. Well you have to talk to him. I know he's older than you-"
" Mom."
"And I know his father so I just want to make sure you know what you're doing. You said they were hashing it out in the parking lot?" Sam nodded as his mom squeezed his hand again. “And he’s not… forcing anything on you is he?”
“No! No of course not! He just kissed me like an hour ago. And I’m not stupid mom.”
“I never said you were honey,” she said, tugging her son into her side. “But you just turned 15. We’re talking about a 3 year gap between the two of you.”
“More like two and half.” She laughed at him and he was glad to see she wasn’t looking at him like he was crazy. They didn’t get much farther into their conversation though when a loud harsh knock sounded on their door. Sam stood up to get it, but his mom - his small spitfire of a mom - got in his way and yanked open the door.
17-year old Dean Winchester stood there, a fresh bruise blossoming on his jaw and a duffel in his hand.
“Dean!” Sam cried, gently moving his mom out of the way so he could push into Dean’s arms, hearing the thud of the duffel as he wrapped the younger teen into his arms and pressing him against his chest. He heard a small hiss of pain though, which immediately made him step away. “What the fuck happened?”
“Nothing Sammy. I’m fine,” Dean said, not missing the stare that was locked on them. “Hey listen, you know the shop I work at right?” Sam nodded, not missing the strain in Dean’s smile. “Well my uncle Bobby has a little loft above it, and he needs someone to watch it, so I”m gonna stay there for a few days.” Sam frowned, but Dean just kept that strained smile on his face. “I probably won’t see you till Monday. But I’ll be here, 7:30, to pick you up. Promise.” The two of them leaned into each other again, until they heard a small cough.
“Sam,” his mom said, making the two teenagers turn to look at her. She just raised an eyebrow, and Sam seemed to come back to himself.
“Right. Mom. This is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my mom.”
“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” Dean said, trying to give his most charming smile. Mary didn’t look convinced though, eyes growing harder.
‘You too Dean. Why don’t you come in and have dinner. You look hungry.”
Dean had a feeling this wasn't a request.
…