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Love and Duty	By : rae_roberts Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and make no profit from this story. Just borrowing Papa Winchester and his boys for fun.

Chapter List
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“May I have this dance?” a throaty voice purred in his ear.
Sam’s lips pressed together in a thin, disapproving line but he nodded his assent, offering his hand to steer his partner onto the dance floor. The courtly gesture was spoiled by a startled yelp as a strong arm wrapped around his waist and swung him out into the rowdy crowd of dancers.
“I figured you wouldn’t mind too much if I stole you away from Pam Barnes.”
Sam’s father-in-law’s eyes were a darker shade than his son’s, but they still sparkled with amusement. “No, sir. Thank you, sir,” Sam said, hating the blush he could feel heating his cheekbones.   The dance music was lively and upbeat and it didn’t seem to matter if the partners were young or old, male or female. Still, John Winchester was intimidating even when the man was smiling and relaxed and Sam was uncertain as to why he’d rescued him until he’d steered him over to where Dean was dancing with Ellen.
“May we cut in?”
“Sure, Dad.” Dean traded places with John and whirled Sam away, leaving the older couple behind. “You’re cute when you blush,” he teased.
“So are you.” Boldly, Sam palmed a hand over Dean’s crotch, giving the bulge he found there a squeeze, and grinned when his fiance’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Why, Sam! And right out in public, too!” Dean wasn’t blushing. If anything, he looked even more pleased with himself than usual. “What happened to virgin slaves not being brazen?” he smirked as he steered Sam right off the wooden dance floor and into the shadows of the trees.
“It’s my birthday,” Sam said nonchalantly, and smirked right back.
“Is not,” Dean argued automatically.
“Tell that to all the people eating cake… Jerk,” Sam drawled. Dean’s fortifying peach brandy had only been Sam’s first drink of the evening. It seemed as if half the population of the estate had pressed a glass or a bottle into his hand, drinking to his health, to his sixteenth birthday, to Ellen’s health...Any excuse, Sam thought giddily. He grinned as Dean pressed him up against the trunk of a tree. They were no more than a few feet away from the other revelers, but the darkness beyond the lamp light felt like their own private world.
“As long as we’re celebrating, I get a birthday kiss.” Sam was only an inch or so taller than Dean—it still annoyed Dean that his teenage fiance would probably grow even taller than him in the next year or two—but for now it was no trouble at all to thread his fingers through the long, silky strands of Sam’s hair and angle his head for a kiss. Sam’s lips were soft and yielding and Dean could taste the sweetness of peaches on his tongue as he claimed his fiance’s mouth. Sam’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as the younger boy’s hips rolled up to grind the growing bulge of his erection against Dean’s crotch. “Happy birthday,” he murmured, shifting his hands to Sam’s slim hips, pressing him back against the tree trunk and stilling their restless motion.   Sam growled a protest, but Dean held him tight, drawing his lower lip into his mouth and nibbling it teasingly before kissing him again deeply, taking his sweet time plundering his mouth.
Sam’s hands had wandered down to Dean’s hips and now he tugged urgently at his belt loops. “I want—”
“Shh… You don’t even know what you want.” Still, he couldn’t resist grinding up on Sam, loving the sound of the sharp, startled intake of Sam’s breath at the intimate contact.
“Then show me.”
Dean pulled away. “On our wedding night,” he insisted with a sigh. Out on the dance floor, he could hear Sam’s name being called for another toast.   Dean pushed him back toward the bright light and noise. “Better go on, before somebody comes looking and finds you being all brazen,” he teased.



“Sam isn’t used to drinking,” Ellen remarked as Bobby Singer filled his glass. The crowd of ranch hands cheered as the teenager tipped his head back and gulped down the liquor. “He’s going to be in a world of hurt come morning if one of us doesn’t put a stop to it.”
“No need for that. Look.” John tipped his chin toward Dean, who had thrown an arm around Sam and was steering him away from the boisterous crowd.
“Do you really think they’ll be happy together?” she asked wistfully.
“I hope so, but that’s not up to us, Ellen.”
“It could be, John. You don’t have to force them to marry.”
His expression darkened at her words. “There are worse fates than marriage. Sam will get to see his own children grow up here on the estate. That’s more than most breeders can expect.”
“I know. You’ve been very generous, and I don’t fault you for wanting to carry on the family line. I just want my son to be happy.”
“I want the same thing, for both our boys… And for you. I’d give you the moon if I could, Ellen. I would. But I can’t make people fall in love.” If only he had that power, John thought ruefully.
“Why, John Winchester.” Ellen grinned up at him, her mood visibly lightening. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting. Offering to give me the moon,” she chuckled.
“It’s just a figure of speech,” John said gruffly.
“Mm-hm. You know, John, you’re cute when you blush.”

“I lost count of how many slices of birthday cake I had,” Sam groaned as they left the party.
“You lost count of how many drinks you had, too,” Dean chuckled. It really hadn’t been that many—Dean had kept track—but Sam wasn’t used to alcohol. Dean wasn’t entirely sober himself, but Sam had long since passed the tipsy mark.
“Lots of drinks.” Sam nodded happily, a move that made him stumble. Dean slipped an arm around his waist and steered him back on course. “Everyone was so kind. Seemed rude to decline.” Another stumble, and this time Sam simply plopped down on the grass, dragging Dean down with him. He giggled. “Look. You’re lighting up again.”
Dean followed Sam’s gaze to his forearm, where a swirling pattern glowed faintly just beneath the skin. “You are, too,” he pointed out. The phenomenon happened every time they touched, but in the darkness it was far more pronounced.
“I want another birthday kiss.”    Sam leaned in, his forehead furrowed in concentration as he aimed for Dean’s mouth.
Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the younger boy’s comically serious expression. “Who am I to say no to the birthday boy?” He closed the rest of the distance between them, pressing his lips to Sam’s in a chaste kiss that quickly turned wanton as he traced the plush curve of Sam’s lower lip with his tongue and Sam eagerly opened his mouth to meet it with his own. Dean eased his fiance the rest of the way down onto the grass, never once breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between Sam’s legs. The younger boy had definitely left his inhibitions behind, he thought with another breathless chuckle as Sam angled his hips to meet him.   For several long moments he let himself revel in the sweet friction as they ground up against one another before pulling away.   “Come on, Sam. Party’s over.”    Dean hauled Sam to his feet and they resumed their stumbling progress toward the main house.
It took a good deal of urging to get the birthday boy into the house and up the stairs, but once they reached Dean’s old bedroom, now set aside for Sam’s use, Sam flopped down unresisting on the bed. Dean sat down at the foot of the bed and unlaced his fiance’s boots and tugged them off.
“Good night, Sammy.” He patted the younger boy on the shoulder, but Sam reached for him, clumsy but insistent, pulling him down beside him on the bed.
“Stay w’ me,” he pleaded, plucking at the sleeve of his shirt, running his long fingers over the glowing, swirling pattern etched beneath the skin.
Dean groaned. Even the innocent contact was enough to set his heart racing. “Can’t. Not until our wedding night,” he told Sam reluctantly.
“Nobody’s gon’ mind if we get started early,” Sam teased, reaching for him, but Dean shook his head and moved out of his reach.
“I’ll mind.” He shook his head again, this time in annoyance. Not at Sam, but at his own defiance.    His insistence on Sam being a virgin on their wedding night was sheer, cussed stubbornness, the only way Dean could think of to defy his father's decree. If John Winchester was going to force him to marry a virgin slave, then Dean damned well would make sure he followed the very letter of the patriarch’s wishes.

Besides, Sam was too drunk to consent anyway. Dean chuckled again and tousled his fiance’s hair affectionately as he let out a loud snore. Sam was already sound asleep. Dean adjusted the pillows behind his head and patted him on the shoulder again. “Good night, birthday boy.”
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Love and Duty