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mjlove1
Ive decided that i do not like posting to LJ! So, that being said. if anyone is interested in mys fics, or what im posting, im mjlove1 over on fanfiction.net and on the Sam and Dean Slash Archive.so please, follow the yellow brick road if you're interested.

Don't Stretch The Rainbow
mjlove1
A/N: Title from an episode of 21 Jumpstreet. WARNING: Dean/OMC (sorry guys!) I dreamed this fic, and its unbeta'd so if you see a problem, let me know. Also, not very good at LJ yet, so hopefully this looks okay. Hope y'all enjoy!

  Dean stared at the old re-runs of 21 Jumpstreet on the tiny tv, legs splayed in front of him. The couch jostled underneath him and he shot a glance at his father. John was on the far end of the sofa, Sam sandwiched between them. At only 11 years old, Sam was still small enough to fit between them, but Dean knew it wasn’t going to last. Sam’s feet and hands are huge, and it’s only a matter of time before the rest of his body catches up to them. Dean felt his heart warm his core thinking of his brother. He was growing into a man Dean could be proud of.
  The couch springs groan again, and he eyed his dad out of his periphery. John sighed, glancing at his watch periodically. Dean knew the signs. John had a new hunt, and was about to be gone. Probably for a while, if his guilty fidgeting was any indication. Fixing his eyes on the screen-and Jesus Johnny Depp is hot- he speaks up. “Find a new hunt, Dad?” Sam froze between them.
  “Got wind of something up north. Might be a lead.” Studying his dad’s movements out of the corner of his eye, he could tell how anxious he was to get going.
  “Mhm. How long you gonna be gone?”
  “’Bout a week or so. I want you boys to stay here. Keep an eye on your brother.” As if he needed to be told. John rose then, gathering bags that had already been packed at some point. Dean stood and walked with his father to the door. “Take care of things around here, Son. I’m counting on you. Bye, Sam!” John shouted over Dean’s shoulder at the boy who had evidently become fused with the couch. With that, he climbed into the truck, leaving Dean with the Impala, and drove away.
  “Well, that didn’t take long,” Sam piped up from the sofa.
  “Oh, he speaks.” Dean turned from the door and headed straight into the kitchen for a beer. Dad left, which meant fifteen was an appropriate age for drinking. Not like Dad would have stopped him anyway. Plopping back down on the couch, he focused on the show again. Seriously, that show never should have ended. Not only was Johnny Depp ridiculously hot, but then there was Peter DeLuis AND Richard Greico? Too much hotness for one show. That must be why it was canceled. Sam nudged him out of his musing and shameless eye fucking, squirming on the couch for a comfortable spot.
  “Jesus, Sammy, relax already.” And he did, lying sideways on the couch; feet hanging over the arm with his head nestled on Dean’s thigh. Running his fingers through his brother’s hair absently, he considered how much more relaxed Sam always seems to become the second their dad is out the door.
  “Uh, Dean? What the hell are we watching?”
  “Cop show. And watch your mouth.”
  “It’s kinda lame. Can I change it?” Sam tried in his pleading voice.
  “Not a chance.” His brother sighed but quieted down nonetheless. Dean took the moment of silence to retreat into his head once more. Staring at the screen, he took in the female officer. She was pretty, but his eyes instantly locked onto Officer Tom Hansen the second his face entered the frame. The girl was lean, bordering on too thin but Johnny’s character was perfect: all lean muscles, hard jawline and high cheekbones. Not to mention awesome hair. The more he realized his attraction to guys, the more confused he became. Sure, he played up the ladies’ man persona, but really only when his dad or other guys were in earshot. Never so much with Sammy though. He could be himself with his brother, although he’s never come right out and said “I’m gay”. Probably never will. No, Dean Winchester has an image to uphold, and if openly hitting on women while sneaking illicit kisses with guys in secret places is part of that image, then that is just how it is.
  Sammy’s breathing began to slow, and Dean ran his hands down his brother’s back, soothing him into sleep. Sometimes, he wonders how Sam would handle his being gay. He’s reasonably sure it wouldn’t be a big deal. Sammy only wants his happiness, and he’s just as confident that Dad would not take it the same way. However, if he came out to his father, he doesn’t think he’ll be disowned either. More than anything, his father would probably just ignore it. John would more than likely never embrace that “lifestyle”, but he would love his son just the same. Dean has zero interest in testing that theory. Glancing down at his brother’s sleeping form, he considers coming out to him. Gently, he runs his knuckles over Sammy’s cheekbones, sharpening up where he is dramatically losing his baby fat. Absently, he wishes his brother could be a kid forever.
  Sliding out from under his head, he clicks off the tv and sets about making the wards and laying down the salt lines. Every lock is checked, every weapon clean and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Silver bullets, blades, and salt rounds are all in their usual places. Dean’s gun is in the top drawer of the bed side table, his knife under his pillow. Everything is perfect, and with one last glance at the couch, he trudges upstairs to make a phone call. Naturally, he’ll come back for Sam before he falls asleep. He doubts he could sleep without that furnace of a body beside him-safe, his brain supplies-anyway.
  Upstairs, he closes the door only halfway-need to be able to hear downstairs after all-before throwing himself on the bed. Grabbing the phone on the bedside table, he dials the number quickly before he can chicken out. Heart pounding, he counts the rings. One. This is a terrible idea. Two.  What if someone finds out? Three. Worse, what if his dad catches him?
  “Hey, baby,” the voice says just as he was about to hang up.
  “Hey.” Smooth Dean. Real smooth.
  “I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna call.”
  “Yeah, so was I. Actually, I was waiting for my dad to leave. He just went out of town.” What the fuck? Seriously? That’s like high school open season for sex.
  “Oh, really? So you’re all alone?”
  “Yeah. Well, except for my little brother, but he’s asleep.” Jesus, Dean shut your mouth. Why do you keep practically pimping yourself out?
  “Huh, well, you wanna come over? I’m sure we can find something to do,” the voice says, not leaving much to the imagination about the plans for the evening.
  “Uh, actually no. I can’t. I can’t leave my brother.” If he thought his heart was pounding before, it damn  near seizes at the thought of leaving Sammy here alone. At night. Practically defenseless. No way. He made that mistake once, and it will never happen again.
  “Hm. Well, I suppose I could come there if you want. I’ve been wanting to make this happen for some time. Is your brother a heavy sleeper? I don’t wanna be blamed for waking him when I make you scream.” Dean’s throat closes up as his dick goes from zero to sixty in two seconds flat. Yes, he most definitely wants this. Weighing pros and cons is not nearly as easy to do with a raging hard on.
  “Um…yeah,” his voice cracks. Awesome. Now he’s sweating fucking bullets. ”That should be fine.” Dean gives out the address and creeps downstairs to check on Sam. His brother is still sleeping peacefully, so he gently removes his shoes and covers him with a blanket before slipping out the back door to wait in the yard.
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  Sam jerked awake, feeling out of place. Something felt weird, and he looked around wildly. The room was dark, and as his eyes adjusted, he took in the living room and the couch he slept on. It felt late, and he wondered why Dean didn’t come back for him. Standing, his joints popped loudly as they re-aligned in his growing body. Walking upstairs, he fumbled a bit on the bottom stair. When he finally made it to their room, the light was on but there was no Dean. The bathroom was also empty.
  Fear spiked cold and raw in his spine. Where would he have gone? Wouldn’t he have left a note or something? “Dean?” Sam called loudly, his voice sounding young and scared. He searched the whole upstairs and saw no sign his brother had ever even been there. Adrenaline and panic took over, and he ran blindly down the stairs, flicking on every single light as he went. “DEAN!” His shouts seemed to echo in the empty house. Still dressed in jeans and a shirt, he ran out the front door-only to discover that he was barefoot- where the car still sat in the driveway. Sam circled the house until he came around to the back porch. Shadows moved there and the hunter in him snapped to the front. He flattened himself against the side of the house and slid around. Grunts and moans floated toward him in the night air and he wished he’d thought to grab a weapon.
  Sam craned his neck around the corner, peeking at the motion on the porch. What he saw there shocked him so badly that he absolutely froze. It was like a horrible train accident that he was completely unable to look away from. It wasn’t so surprising to find his brother having sex with someone. What surprised him was who Dean was having sex with. Sam recognized him-him!-from Dean’s class. A guy named Ryan. Dean had him spread out on the porch swing, Ryan’s legs wrapped around his hips tightly. They were thrusting hard against one another, Ryan sucking marks all over Dean’s neck. Sam managed to find his legs and attempted to back away. Naturally, every last one of his sneaky ninja skills flew out the window, and he stepped on the one goddamned stick in the yard. The other boy’s eyes popped open and locked on Sam’s.
  Dean didn’t notice, and oddly all Sam could think about was how dangerous that is. For his brother to be so caught up in something that he couldn’t hear giant feet sneaking up on him could be a death sentence. Ryan stilled, staring at Sam until Dean finally noticed something was wrong. “What is it, baby?” Sam never heard his brother sound like that before, raw like he’d had a sore throat. He followed Ryan’s gaze over his shoulder and a look of horror took over his handsome face. That was when Sam’s brain got with the program and convinced his legs to run.
  Sam’s thoughts were going a mile a minute. He didn’t feel ready to face Dean, ready to handle the situation the best way possible. While he was surprised to find out his older brother is gay, that isn’t even the biggest problem. Sam kept running down the street, barely feeling the gravel slicing the soles of his feet. He wanted to handle this the right way and he needed time. Dean would come looking for him soon and he would need to be ready.
  An old barn was right down the road and he ducked inside it quickly, scaling the hayloft ladder. Tucking himself into the corner, he thought over what he saw. First and foremost, his brother is gay. Or at the very least bisexual. Everything Sam even knows about sex came from what Dean taught him. His brother still thought he was too young, so he didn’t have vast knowledge to work with. There was a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, roiling around in there making him think he was going to vomit. Seeing Dean’s face like that, so blissful and entirely wrapped up in another person made him queasy. Jealous, his brain provided. Stupid brain. It’s mixing up shock with jealousy. Obviously, he has nothing to be jealous of. Dean is with him every single day of their lives. He deserves to have fun, and he deserves to have someone care about him in that way. Sam knows all of this logically. So why does his chest feel two sizes too small?
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To Be Continued...

Dean's Promise
mjlove1
                Dean looked around himself, more nervous than he liked to admit. Dad had a few weeks off between hunts, so he finally agreed to teach Dean to ride a bike. He was excited and anxious, but he would not let his dad see his fear. They didn't have time for training wheels, and Dean already felt behind the other boys in school, so he'd begged Dad to jump straight to a big kid bike. Both Winchester men glanced back at the yard to check on Sam. He was two years old and sat happily on his baby blanket in the shade of a large tree-a tree he didn't realize he was tethered safely to- and played with his toys. Dean felt weird about the baby leash keeping Sammy safely in the yard, but he also remembered just how fast he could get around on those chubby legs these days.
 
"Okay Son," John began, hands on either side of Dean's small body, "when I push, you need to pedal your feet hard okay? You can do it." Dean nodded, his heart hammering through his chest. John began pushing the bike steadily and Dean pumped his feet, reveling in the feel of wind in his hair and just general freedom. He laughed hard and felt John's hands subtly leaving the seat and suddenly- Dean was doing it! He was riding a bike! He heard John cheering him on, encouraging him the whole way. A bubble of laughter escaped his chest and he pedaled his feet harder.
 
Dean's joy was cut short, however at a sound that had his heart settling somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes. Sammy screamed out in pain, and Dean jerked his head around, his big brother spidey-senses tingling. His eyes settled on the baby crying in the yard, and he lost his focus for just a second. He wobbled on the bike and crashed to the ground, knees slamming painfully on the pavement. John ran toward Dean and froze in the street, head turning between both of his sons, unsure who to run to first. "Dean! You okay, Son?" John shouted from the street, midway between both boys. Dean wrapped his hands around his leg, blood staining his jeans.
 
"Dad, I'm fine! Go check on Sammy!" John nodded sharply and dashed to the yard to check on the crying baby. Even though it seemed like everything happened in slow motion, it was only seconds from the time Sammy screamed to the time John had him in his lap. Dean hauled himself to his feet and collected his bike. Brushing himself off, he half walked half jogged as fast as could to the yard, refusing to limp on his injured leg. Finally he reached the yard and Sammy had stopped screaming, but tears steadily leaked from his eyes down his pudgy cheeks. John had the baby cradled in his lap, shushing and comforting him. "Is Sammy okay, Dad?"
 
"Aw, yeah. He's fine. It looks like an ant crawled up and bit him," John said, showing his eldest son the mark on the baby's hand. An angry red welt had formed on the tender ivory skin.
 
"Sammy. I'm sorry, buddy." Dean kissed the small hand and Sammy reached his arms out, asking Dean to hold him without a word. John smiled and handed him over, Sam snuggling easily in his brother's lap. Dean smiled into the baby fine curls, and wrapped his arms around him. John glanced down at Dean's leg and rolled up his jeans.
 
"Jesus, Dean. Are you okay?" John pressed gently on the wounds, assessing the bones and Dean hissed softly at the pain. "Sorry. Let me go grab the first aid kit. Watch Sammy okay? Be right back." John stood and crossed the yard into the house. Dean glanced down at Sammy, now sucking his thumb and contentedly snoozing in his lap. Snuggling closer to the small body, Dean's eyes landed on the baby blanket where the offending ant was still crawling around. Gently, so as not to jostle the baby sleeping in his arms, Dean extended his bleeding leg and crushed the ant under his shoe.
 
Feeling somewhat vindicated, Dean smiled and whispered in Sammy's ear. "Don't worry, buddy. As long as I'm around, nothing will ever hurt you again. I promise." He wiped the last of Sammy's tears off of his small, round face and remembered that promise for the rest of his life.

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