Title: Outside of Society

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Blood White Panther (aka whitepanther16)

Rating/Warnings: Rated M (R). Underage wincest (16 and 20 before anything happens), you know the drill. Again, not beta-ed.

Pairing(s): DeanSam

Notes: Don't forget to drop me a line… Reviews are like candy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that is recognizable from the Supernatural verse, and I'm not making any money off of this.

Chapter 3 – Laying Down the Law

As the impala sped down the highway with John behind the wheel, Dean was staring out the window, firmly telling himself he wasn't pouting. Nope, not at all. Last night, their father had barged in on him and Sam (he was right on time, but Dean still liked to think he was purposefully interrupting). It had been the worst possible timing on the face of the planet. That's right, Dad just had to catch them holding hands and staring love-struck into each other's eyes like a couple of girls. Somehow, for Dean, it would have been a Hell of a lot less embarrassing if Dad had walked in on them making out or something. He was pretty sure he'd never hear the end of this once their father got over the awkwardness of the memory.

Sitting in the back seat next to Dean, Sam watched his brother watching the scenery with an angry pout on his lips. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to smack Dean or start laughing at him. He sighed, ruefully, and shifted his gaze to the back of their father's head. He knew Dean was embarrassed by their little chick flick moment. Not to mention they'd both been sexually frustrated for the past three years or so. The whole thing was awkward, yeah, but privately Sam thought that it had been far better for the long run. He was absolutely positive Dad would much rather have a chance to make fun of them than to be scarred for life. That, and the idea of Dad catching him messing around with anybody made him nauseous. It would just be that much more mortifying if it was Dean. Sighing again, Sam switched back to watching his brother. Neither boy noticed their father's eyes glancing at them in the rear-view mirror.

As John guided the impala along an empty stretch of road, he snuck another look in the mirror at his sons. Twenty-year-old Dean was pouting, and the absurdity of that realization made it hard not to laugh. Sammy was pensively watching his brother. There was less of the uncomfortably angsty tension between his boys than there'd been in years, and that fact alone made it easier to swallow the decision he'd made. Unfortunately, in this unchartered territory, John had millions of new decisions left to make. There wasn't exactly a parental handbook for how to treat your sons when they become lovers. No, John had the distinct feeling that he'd be alone in this. Not even Pastor Jim could possibly understand.

Now that things were out in the open, John figured they'd have to set some boundaries… rules, of a sort. Though most of his mind would rather just deny the whole situation, just pretend he didn't see it, that would really only make things worse. John had to decide how to handle this, and he had to decide soon. Last night he'd forced the boys to take separate beds and he'd actually slept on the floor between them—not the most comfortable place to be. The first decision on his list was something along the lines of "To cock block or not to cock block?"

Was it better to give his boys plenty of space to get that kind of thing out of their systems where he didn't have to see it? As much as the idea of leaving them alone together disturbed him, if he specifically tried not to leave them alone, it was only prolonging the inevitable, wasn't it? Should he get them their own room? Was it safe to split up the family at night? They were still just kids, after all. Maybe it would be better if he could just take off for a few hours every now and then during the day? He wasn't sure he could stomach that either. Wouldn't he just tear himself up with nausea and worry like he had last night? The idea of not only condoning, but actually facilitating a sexual relationship between his sons made him rather nauseous. Sighing heavily, he wondered if there was a 'right' way to go about this, and if he'd ever find it.

Eventually, the day disappeared with the sun, eaten up by road and silence. John pulled into a motel parking lot in the nearest town. A glance to the backseat revealed his baby boys fast asleep. Dean was drooling against the window and Sam's head was nestled on his thigh. John swallowed, overcome by nostalgia. His boys were growing up too fast anyway. Maybe, for his own sake, he could hold this off just a little longer? Making up his mind, John left the car to get a single hotel room with two beds and a cot.

As John half carried and half dragged his boys into the room, settling each of them in a separate bed, his mind drifted back to the most nerve-wracking, nauseating coffee he'd ever had. He'd spent about fifteen minutes actually crying in the goddamn men's room and thinking about what Mary would say. Eventually, though, he'd dragged himself to a corner booth and flopped down to angst about it. If he truly let himself think about it, he could have predicted this years ago. He still loved his sons, obviously, and he would stand beside his decision because it was the only way they could be happy and he could still keep their family together. The issue he'd pondered, over a bitter mug of black coffee and a greasy muffin sitting like lead in his stomach, had been more along the lines of 'What now? God, what do I do now?' Was he going to swallow his pride and a good amount of nausea so they could keep this relatively in the open? Or was he going to practice denial and tell his boys to just be brothers around him? He didn't want to see it; he didn't want to know it. The whole thing was nearly more than he could stand. However, he also didn't want to wreck it. He'd wondered if secrecy would foster more guilt. If it could be dangerous, not knowing what they were up to.

When he'd returned to the motel room, he'd been a little worried about what he might find. The whole point of giving Dean a set time was to avoid that kind of thing, but his stomach kept roiling and turning just the same. As it turned out, he shouldn't have spent time worrying about that. The situation in which he found them had dictated his response. He'd chuckled at the identical goofy-gooey-giddy expressions on his sons' faces, ushered them into their separate beds, ignored their questions in favour of telling them to go to sleep, and determinedly overlooked the fact that the whole thing made him a little misty-eyed too (He hadn't seen either of his boys this happy in years).

Returning to the present at a knock on the door, John stood to receive the cot. After nodding grimly, setting up the cot between the two beds, thanking the woman, and locking the door behind her, he set to laying the salt lines. When his head finally hit the pillow and he drifted closer to oblivion, John allowed himself to smirk. Privately, he could admit that he was something of a sadist. There was just no way he could let this go without ragging on them a bit. They'd been holding hands for crying out loud! No, Dean would be hearing about this for years…


Yawning, Sam woke up to Dean leaning over him.

"What is it?" he mumbled, only to nearly jump out of his skin when his brother leaned in to kiss him on the mouth. "Are you insane?" he hissed, shooting a glance at their snoring father less than three feet away on the cot.

"Nope, just horny. Come with me to the shower, Sam," he murmured through a wide grin. Sam stared incredulously at the crazy man in front of him, but for some reason he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Probably hormones.

Once Dean got the bathroom door closed behind them, he playfully shoved a stumbling Sam towards the sink.

"Brush your teeth, would ya? You've got rank morning breath, dude." Sam flushed red and glared at his brother.

"Shut up, jerk. You're the one who kissed me," he retorted. He did, however, sheepishly move to comply. There was no mirror above the dingy sink, but after a moment he could hear Dean's clothing hitting the floor. He nearly gulped down a mouthful of toothpaste. He drew out brushing his teeth until he heard the shower curtain close and the water start.

"You gonna be joining me anytime soon?" Dean teased from behind the foggy plastic curtain. Sam blushed again.

"Actually, er, I have to pee."

"Fine, but you'd better not flush the toilet while I'm in here." Nervous, Sam didn't budge.

"Er, do you think you could leave for a minute?" Dean barked out a laugh.

"Is little Sammy shy? Get over yourself, I'm not going to watch you take a piss." Sam glared mutinously at the curtain and moved to stand in front of the toilet. It took longer than it usually did, with Dean in the shower, but after a few minutes he was standing shirtless at the curtain, trying to work himself up to taking off his boxers.

"Look, if you've changed your mind, just say. I won't pressure you or anything…" Dean murmured softly, still closed-off from sight. Something about the sadness, the level of vulnerability in his brother's voice tugged on Sam's heartstrings and he drew back the curtain. Forgetting about his underwear, he climbed into the shower and wrapped his arms around his brother.

"I haven't changed my mind, Dean," he murmured into Dean's hair, nuzzling at the warm, wet skin behind his ear. "I told you I love you, remember?" Dean hummed contentedly, and Sam could feel him relaxing in his arms.

"I remember, Sammy," Dean mumbled as he brought their mouths together, licking wetly into Sam's mouth. It crossed his mind, briefly, that it was ridiculous for a twenty-year-old to have to lean up to kiss a sixteen-year-old. Dean felt he should always be the taller one. It was his prerogative as the older brother. He took great pleasure in winding his hands into Sammy's long hair and yanking him back down to his level. At least the boy's still scrawny through the shoulders, long and lean like the teenager he is.

Sam groaned as Dean manhandled him down for another bruising kiss. He moaned when he realized he could feel his older brother's erection against his leg. Altogether, he was probably making far too much noise. Sliding his hands back down to Sam's waist, Dean frowned.

"Be quiet and take these off," he ordered, enjoying Sam's shiver as he helped his brother slide off the wet shorts. They both sucked in sharp breaths as Sam's cock rose up to slap against Dean's belly.

"I can't help it. Kiss me if you want me to shut up," Sam panted hotly against Dean's mouth as he reached for his brother's prick.


Outside the bathroom, John woke up to the disturbing sound of his son's making out in the shower. He gagged a little and yanked a pillow over his head. Great. Fucking excellent. What exactly had made him think he could keep a couple of horny boys from messing around? He wrinkled his nose and plugged his ears under the pillow. This had to be the worst possible thing to wake up to.


Dean moaned loudly into his little brother's mouth. He could so get used to this. In fact, this had to be the best possible thing to wake up to in the morning.

"Dean! Sam! Could you fucking keep it down in there?" their father bellowed from the next room. Sam nearly shrieked and shoved frantically at Dean. They both ended up on flat on their asses on cold porcelain. Dean groaned. Gee, thanks, Dad. I'm totally going to be able to come now. Angrily, he shut off the tap, grabbed a towel, and stormed into the main room. He didn't say a word, but his glare was enough to melt the flesh from the bones of anyone normal. Their Dad just scowled.

Okay, yeah… So maybe John wasn't exactly proud of what he'd just done, but how much can a father really be expected to endure? He sighed. By the looks of things, Dean was still highly frustrated. Maybe John was going to be paying for his actions in the form of a pissy, uncooperative son all morning, but he was secretly more than happy to have derailed his eldest son's rather disturbing plans. Sam, on the other hand, seemed like a creature crossbred from the incarnations of terror and humiliation. John figured he needed to speak to the boy in person and not just trust that the message had gotten through via Dean. He also needed to lay down some ground rules so that he never had to overhear something like that again.

"Let's go to breakfast," he suggested carefully. Wide-eyed and blushing bright red, Sammy dressed quickly and hurried to wait in the back seat of the impala. Dean, however, took his not-the-least-bit-sweet time getting ready.

When John finally dragged Dean out to the car, the boy jerked away from his grip and nearly threw himself into the back seat. Glaring furiously at John, he threw an arm around Sam and dragged him far too close. Sammy squeaked, but stayed in his arms as his mutinous eyes dared him to pull away. John just sighed in exasperation and climbed into the front seat.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of a tacky old restaurant across town, Dean was acting a little less irrationally. John even caught the occasional sheepish glance in his direction. They piled into the nearest empty booth, with John sitting across from his boys, levelling a stern, hard expression at them. He waited to speak until after they'd all ordered breakfast from a perky blonde waitress named Sally. Out of habit, Dean was making eyes at her, and John actually sniggered when Sammy smacked him upside the head.

"Cut it out! You're taken," he hissed, before slapping a hand over his mouth and shooting a fearful glance at John. Dean blushed, appearing fully chastened, and that's when John completely lost it. He was leaning his face into his arms, full-out guffawing into the vinyl table top. Looks like John would finally get some help controlling Dean's wandering eye…

Sam and Dean eyed their father in mild confusion. One minute, he'd been the strict drill sergeant about to lay down the law, and the next, he was laughing like a crazy person.

"Um, Dad?" Sam cautiously inquired. "Are you feeling alright?" Dean glared at his father, but his lip twitched. Something told him this was all at his expense, but it was nice to see their father laughing like this. After a few false stops, John eventually stopped up his laughter and assumed a more appropriately serious expression. Then the food arrived. He watched closely as Dean determinedly stared out the window, not even glancing in Sally's direction. Sam nodded approvingly and politely thanked the woman, while John forced down an unmanly giggle. He told himself it would be inappropriate to inform Dean that Sam already had him whipped. To stave off more laughter, he shoved a strip of bacon in his mouth. After a couple of minutes of quiet chewing, John swallowed and opened his mouth to speak.

"To answer the question you're afraid to ask, yes, Sam, I did tell Dean that you can, er, date each other. I don't want you to be miserable… and I don't want to lose my family over this." Dean continued to wolf down his eggs and sausage, but his baby was giving him his full attention. "I think I need to set some ground rules, though, so listen up… That means you, Dean." Sam smirked and Dean reluctantly set down his fork.


"Good… Look, I realize that men have needs, but I don't want to be around to hear that kind of thing." At these words, even Dean reddened—it was a throwback to the most horrifying conversation he'd ever had with Dad: the sex talk. Glancing sideways, he noticed that Sam was sinking low in his seat, splotched red and white with humiliation.

"Sorry about that… I wasn't thinking." John nodded.

"First rule, keep it PG-13 when I'm within range of seeing or hearing you."

"Yessir," Dean replied. Sam just nodded. His skin was fast approaching the shade of a plum.

"Second, like I already told Dean… I don't want this to cause more problems than it solves. I expect you two to treat each other with respect. Hurt each other too often or too severely and I'll be forced to separate you."

"You know I'd never hurt Sammy," Dean protested. John sighed.

"Last I checked, you beat each other up all the time. I do trust you not to take that too far, but I meant emotionally, too. You're going to have more power over Sam now that you're in a relationship, and let's face it: you can be an insensitive jerk sometimes." Sam let out a surprised laugh. Dean scowled in response, but nodded.

"Good," John replied, before glancing around, assuring himself that no one was within hearing distance for the next point on his list. He spoke quickly and quietly. "Thirdly, this has to stay between us. You can't tell anyone. Not even Caleb or Pastor Jim. Sam's underage, and at any age it will still be illegal. We don't need Child Services or some religious do-gooder finding out and pressing charges or taking him away." John was pleased with the level of serious, rapt attention his boys were now paying him.

"I understand that," Sam replied gravely. Dean nodded soberly.

"I know. I wouldn't say anything. I don't want to lose this family either." John sighed, relieved to have this conversation over with, to have discussed the most important issues.

"Good. I'm glad that's out of the way. That's all I have for now, but I imagine I'll think of more later. You can go back to your breakfasts now."

Halfway through the meal, Sam yelped and elbowed his brother in the stomach. John heard a hissed, "Don't pinch me!" before Dean leaned in to whisper something in Sam's ear. He watched as his youngest son turned tomato red again and shot him a panicked look. John sighed in exasperation. His boys were going to be the death of him.

"Dean. Stop harassing Sam."