Chapter Text
Dean really didn’t know why he hadn’t expected it. Okay, that was a lie. He had expected quite a few things, but this was one thing he just didn’t get. Perhaps contrary to popular belief, Dean had done quite a bit of thinking during his year in purgatory—mostly about how not to die, how to survive, how to find his angel, but he was a hunter so give him a break, those thoughts were normal. What he was referring to thinking about now however, was getting out of purgatory and reuniting with Sam. The word reuniting was used in its loosest terms here, as the dictionary definition didn’t end in one party telling the other that they were honestly happy to see them, but they just really didn’t want to go back to hunting. But Dean could totally visit, ‘cause that’d be great.
So in less cryptic terms, Dean had gotten out of purgatory, went to see his brother Sam and was promptly told that Sam was no longer into the whole family business of saving people, hunting things. Because—and this was the best part—Sam had spent the past year frolicking around with his lovely lady friend who was his perfect unicorn and even had a pet dog. Meanwhile Dean had been up to his elbows in monster guts, running around and using certain knowledge gained in hell in order to force monsters to help him find his angelic best friend Castiel. Who at the last minute had been left behind in purgatory. Oh yes, life was just fucking peachy.
The impala’s radio switched to Ride the Lightning by Metallica and Dean breathed slightly easier. Music like this always made life better. Plus there was a sign for a bar up ahead from where Dean was driving, many towns and even more hours from where Sam had decided to leave him. Getting drunk right now was going to be seriously awesome. Pulling into the parking lot Dean shut off baby rather harshly and paused, resting his head against the steering wheel for a second to collect his thoughts and calm down so he didn’t hurt his car—Sam had been nice enough to give her back, which was one bonus. First things first, he needed to check into a motel. Secondly, he needed to get completely shitfaced. Tomorrow he would start looking for ways to get Cas back, because Sam sure as hell didn’t need Dean and the hunter wasn’t intending on settling down. There, everything planned out.
On autopilot Dean grabbed his bags and got a room, only just remembering to get one bed. He threw down his bag and salted all the entrances against demons, making sure to hide it in case he picked someone up, which, with the way he was feeling, seemed quite likely. With that done, Dean grabbed a flask of holy water, shoved it and his wallet into his pocket and left for the bar.
~*~
Derek sighed, pushing the bar door open and scowling at the crowd. He had only just arrived in this place and was now wondering if he shouldn’t have moved on. Everyone else had moved on, his whole pack leaving for colleges, universities and extended vacations. Because Beacon Hill’s had felt so empty without his pack Derek had also left. He set up his house—only slightly refinished over the years with the pack—so he could leave it for an extended amount of time and then proceeded to move from place to place without staying anywhere more than a day. Or staying sober without non fatal wolfsbane laced alcohol helping him to get through with the lack of pack he had gotten so used to. It was far easier to deal with things through an alcohol induced haze than actually thinking them over and dealing.
He finally spotted an empty stool at the bar which had a dark haired man nursing shots from a bottle on one side and a couple deep in actual conversation on the other, relatively quiet. He slid onto the seat and was quite surprised at the little amount of time it took for the bartender to come over. Taking cue from the man at his side, Derek also ordered an entire bottle of terrible whisky; inconspicuously shaking a small pinch of wolfsbane into it and then draining a third in one go. It took a ton of alcohol to get a werewolf drunk and he really needed not to be sober, the wolfsbane just helped the process.
After the first couple hours Derek’s plan of staying away from anyone was rudely interrupted. The couple beside him had left only minutes ago which made room for a group of squealing girls who were drunk enough to be throwing themselves at Derek, not taking a hint that they were completely unwanted.
Desperate for some way to discourage them, Derek turned to the man on his other side, who was still sitting and enjoying his shots. Nodding to the alcohol, Derek asked “Rough day?”
The man laughed, shaking his head and twirling an empty glass. “Rough year. I can’t even remember when it wasn’t. You too? You’re brooding as much as I am”
“Ya, rough year.” Derek replied, pointedly turning further towards the man when one of the girls moved closer and trying to ignore how much the mention of brooding reminded him of Stiles. “Anything particular today?”
The man chuckled at the girls still trying to flirt with Derek, but then paused at his question, tilting his head to the side in a movement that probably wasn’t so exaggerated when he was sober. This was definitely a weird time as Derek was actively trying to avoid being flirted with, but he was struck by how good looking the guy was. Green eyes, a chiseled but almost feminine face, full lips, the dude was gorgeous.
“It’s a really long story that just cumulated today” The man finally said with an amused lit to his voice, and Derek yanked his gaze back to the guys eyes, aware he had been caught staring. Luckily the guy didn’t seem to mind, a grin tugging at his mouth.
And for some reason Derek didn’t want to stop talking, but even still he must’ve been drunker than he thought at the next words that came out of his mouth. “Hey, mine’s years old. We could trade and then brood together?”
The guy laughed, this time seeming more real than the previous almost desperate amusement. “You got yourself a deal but I’m not sure you want to hear about all my huge fucking abandonment issues”
“You too? It might be good. I’d love to know that I’m not the only person that everyone leaves” Derek scowled after saying that, definitely maudlin drunk today. Maybe he had put a little bit too much wolfsbane in his drink, he wondered, frowning at the alcohol. “And you’re starting, ‘cause this is making me way too free with my words. My name’s Derek by the way”
The man shook his head, the movement natural and not a denial. He rested forward on the table and took a moment to just survey Derek. The werewolf could smell suspicion and desire warring in him, but then loneliness won out and he introduced himself.
Condensing the whole thing, the man’s name was Dean and he explained that there was a whole shit ton of back story, but the basic foundation was that he traveled a lot, living his entire life on the road with his brother and his best and only friend. His mother had died in a fire when he was a kid and his father had dragged him and his brother onto the road, obsessively searching for the person who had killed her. His brother had left them for a while, and eventually Dean had pulled him into their nomadic life back when his father went missing. Long story short, his dad died, his brother had almost died and Dean had gotten into the debt of some really bad people in order to save him. After four months in hell—practically hell, Dean specified, and oddly enough his heartbeat skipped—he met the friend he ended up traveling with, Cas, when the guy had gotten Dean out of hell. And there was all the back story.
More recently and a little more than a year ago the three of them had been separated, him with Cas out of country and in a very unfriendly place while his brother was still back on home soil. Dean and Cas had been separated while gone and Dean had spent the better part of the year in that miserable place looking for the other guy.
One thing Derek found interesting was that Dean said that it wasn’t hell, hell had been worse. This other place had been terrifying because trying to survive amidst so many enemies cut everything down to only the basest needs and requirements. But anyways, when Dean finally found Cas, the two of them had then needed to travel some more, trying to get back. It had been a little shit storm of madness and Dean ended up getting out but Cas had been left behind. According to Dean, that had been his fault because he couldn’t hold on long enough. After Dean had gotten back he had gone to meet up with his brother, only to find out that his last remaining kin had met a girl and decided to stay with her, giving Dean his car back and then removing himself from their kind of life. Dean had tons of praise for his car that Derek shared,—Deans’ car was a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, that’s pretty awesome—but it was dampened by the loss of his brother
Dean trailed off after this, frowning and looking up at Derek from where his head had come to a complete rest on his arm on the bar table. “I’ve never told anyone that much before. Not just that, like anything. Why the hell did I tell you all that?”
“I’ve no idea, but if it makes you feel better I’ll tell you more than I’ve told anyone else too.” Derek snorted lightly, shaking his head. From what Dean had told him, it sounded like the man had had a seriously messed up life. Spending a year in what sounded like a warzone, loosing both people closest to you directly after that? At least Derek had only had to deal with stuff in Beacon Hills and considering how much they got up to there, he couldn’t imagine how bad it’d be out of country. Least Dean didn’t have to deal with werewolves and hunters, though humans could often be just as bad
~*~
Dean narrowed his eyes as he suspiciously watched Derek. He hadn’t been kidding, that was the most he had ever told anyone, in probably, ever. He was entertaining the thought that Derek was some kind of monster that had randomly stumbled upon a Winchester, but had mostly thrown out that contemplation. He hadn’t heard Derek’s story yet, so that might change if he was stupid enough to mention the supernatural. Dean really hoped Derek wasn’t a monster, the guy hadn’t said much but Dean liked him. And if he had been reading things right, he was also really looking forward to spending the night with Derek.
Flicking back to conversation as Derek started to talk, Dean realized he really didn’t mind listening. It was quite nice and definitely sadistic—though he chose not to think of that—that he found it so nice to listen to someone else’s problems for once. That thought was a bit odd though, and Dean went back to listening as a distraction.
Surprisingly enough, the two of them were quite alike. Derek’s whole family had been killed by some psycho bitch that burned their house down when he was younger. Him and his sister had been the only survivors and had left their hometown for quite a while after. She had gone back and then been killed, leading him to go back to try and figure out who killed her. Once there he had met the psycho bitch again, been kidnapped, shot and tortured by her before she was ultimately killed. To add to that little fun fest Aa wild animal that had been attacking people in the town and around it had also attacked him during the in-between time of the bitch shooting him and being killed. Bunch of other shit had happened and eventually Derek built up a really close circle of non-blood family. Once everything had cleared up—the wild animals and psychopaths—they had all left Derek, going off to colleges or just moving away. Derek hadn’t been able to handle living in the burnt out ghost of his old house and the town, so he had left too.
The two of them talked and flirted for a little bit more after both their tales had been told, about random anythings from cars to traveling to music. Derek had a Camero that Dean wanted to see and he actually had okay taste in music, though had never seen the Grand Canyon either. A little bit after may have been an under-exaggeration, as they ended up talking for all the hours left in the bar and were eventually interrupted by the bartender announcing last call.
“Well aren’t we just a pair.” Dean chuckled, shaking his head as they both startled. Derek grinned beside him and looked slightly surprised as the amusement. Dean echoed the grin, examining the bottle he had been drinking from and vaguely admitted that the shot glasses had probably been redundant seeing how little there was left.
When Derek answered with a laugh and a toast of his own drink to ‘fucked up families’, Dean could only agree, both of them finishing off the bottles and leaving with the mingle of people still there. Somehow they managed to stay together and, feeling drunk and realizing that there was no Sam around to hide from, Dean moved closer to Derek, tilting his head to the side and belatedly realizing how much he was acting like Cas. That is, if Cas had ever done what Dean was planning on doing.
Dean grinned, shifting his stance slightly as he asked, “Since we’re both just passing through and from the sounds of it you haven’t gotten a motel yet, want to come back to mine?”
Which was basically how Dean found himself on his hands and knees and being thoroughly fucked into the mattress about twenty minutes later. Derek gasped over him, thrusting in and out and drawing widely uncontrolled moans from the hunter. Dean prided himself on topping and never really let himself go, but underneath Derek he couldn’t help but make noise, pressing back to meet Derek’s thrusts and panting out for the man to fuck him harder. In order to not be completely flattened Dean was resting almost fully on his hands, too out of it to try and figure out how to reach down and wrap a hand around himself.
It was like Derek was reading his mind and a second after the thought processed, the man was reaching down and fisting Dean’s cock, pulling happy moans from the hunter. It only took a few more thrusts and Derek was coming, pressing down over Dean’s back and losing his rhythm on the hunters cock. Derek pulled out, flipping Dean over and crawling down his body. Dean’s mind recovered long enough to leap for joy before Derek mouth enclosed over Dean’s cock and his mind was once again gone, lost in a haze of pleasure. He barely managed to tug on Derek’s hair in warning, but the man didn’t move back, swallowing down every last drop of Dean’s come.
Dean’s eyes half lidded and lazy he watched Derek as the man pulled the condom off, throwing it at the garbage and then flopping down next to the hunter. Dean grinned, rolling over and pressing against Derek. Sam wasn’t here and it wasn’t like he was going to spend a lot of time with Derek,--unfortunately, his mind helpfully supplied and he subsequently ignored—so why the fuck shouldn’t he keep a man over and curl up to him. Because really, it wasn’t snuggling.