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Full House Winchester

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The aroma of the pancakes Daddy's cooking downstairs fills the whole house. There's bacon too, and coffee. With my eyes still closed, I take another sip of the delicious aromas, inhaling the smells, allowing them to comfort me. I luxuriate in the coziness of Saturday morning, breathing deeply, making ready to sleep for just a few moments longer.

And then a hand hits me in the face. "Ow!" I open my eyes, and see I've got a twin on either side of me. Even my loud cry doesn't wake them from their peaceful slumber, so I do it. I shake them both awake. "What are you doing in my bed? Again."

Both are bleary-eyed, but still have the wherewithal to look to the other and have a wordless twin conversation, as to what exactly they want to tell me. God that's annoying. "Tell me the truth, or I'm going straight to Daddy."

"Fine," Jared says.

"Jared," Jen complains.

Jared ignores him. Sometimes one twin decides what's best for them both, like they're one person, and the other goes along with it, even if they'd rather their twin did not. "We had another nightmare."

Allow me to clarify. When he says 'we', he means they both had nightmares separately, but at the same time. They're not even necessarily the same nightmare, though sometimes they are. But the twins often talk in 'wes' and 'ours', like they are one person, even though they're not identical, which has gotten worse this second time around, according to Daddy.

"Why can't you sleep in each other's beds?"

"Not good enough, we need you Dean," Jensen says, and yeah that's surprising. He's not prone to vulnerability.


"Yeah, there's something 'bout you, helps us sleep," Jared explains, yawning.

"Can't you go bother Papa, and Daddy?"

"Nooooo way," Jensen says. "Think about it for a second. They hear we're having nightmares, they're going to freak out and think we need help of some kind."

"Maybe you do."

"It's only the second time, and we're sure it's just a side effect from bein' hunters mixed with whatever the fuck that Modlenol crap does."

They're both looking at me with big eyes, making them look a whole lot younger than they are. "Fine. But could you at least let me know when you're climbing into bed with me?"

"We were trying not to wake you. We were being considerate," Jensen says.

"And I appreciate it, nevertheless, tell me next time."

"Yeah, yeah."

I rub a hand over my face. Living with these two has sure been interesting. "So other than I don't have the power to make you seek some kind of help, what makes you two need me over just yourselves?"

"You just have that something about you. It's not the same as the kind of solidness Cas, or Dal has. We've talked, and we think it's the hunter in you," Jared says.

I roll my eyes. "Not a hunter."

"Yeah, we know you're not anymore, but it's part of your DNA. You'll always have that something about you because of it, and that's why it would still be you over Cas and Sammy, or even Chris and Dal no matter what, uh for this."

Sometimes, they're the worst, most obnoxious brothers ever, but moments like this make up for all the rest. I've also noticed Jensen inching just a little bit closer to me, and Jared too, like the dreams they were having are still washing through them. I've been a Winchester and a Colt a long time, they need comfort, we can sense these things miles away. "Come here you two."

That's all it takes, and they're clinging to me, one on each side. I squeeze them tight. "I'll keep you two safe," I promise.

"Thanks, Dean. You're a pretty decent older brother most of the time," Jared says.

"I agree with Jared," in news that surprises no one, "and I appreciate the sentiment, but no way you could actually protect us from the thing in my dream."

"Bet I could too. I have my very own archangel."

"Did you have to mention that guy?"

"That guy is my boyfriend." I'll never get tired of saying that. "Be nice to him, or I'll let him turn you into dust."

Jensen rolls his eyes, but doesn't stop squeezing me.

Eventually we decide to get up. I send them to do things like brush their hair and teeth, while I do the same, so we can head down at slightly separate times. When I get down there, Daddy's got Jake set at his highchair, and he's cooking up a storm. "Hey Daddy," I say stealing a slice of bacon from the tray. "Where is everyone?"

"Coming. Papa and Uncle Chris are having showers, and Dal is still asleep – Chris brought him down here. You mind helping me out a bit?"

"Sure, Daddy."

I help him set the table, and entertain Jake. Eventually, the others trickle in. The table is a lot fuller now with four adults, three teens, and a baby. There's still one missing though. As if on cue, Michael's sliding the glass door to the kitchen open, and taking his place beside me. I love the feeling when we're all together like this, especially with the feeling of Michael right next to me.

Father clears his throat. "I have an announcement, the teens of this house are released from their confinement. Dean, you're still on probation."

"Yes, sir," I say while Jensen and Jared high-five each other, which means an earlier curfew for me than usual.

"Sweet, does that mean we can go out tonight with some of our friends from school?"

"A bunch of teens hanging out together all in one place?" Papa says. "That sounds like it's a party to me."

"It's not a party. It's merely a gathering of kids, children if you will. It's at the Soda Shoppe, and anyone who's anyone is going," Jared says. "Please, Cas?"

"All right, you may go," he says after thinking about it momentarily. I bet that has something to do with giving Daddy a break from them more than anything. "If your brother agrees to go with you."

"Dean? Why does Dean need to go? We don't need a babysitter," Jensen says.

"Nevertheless, that's the deal. No Dean, no deal," Papa says.

"Sorry guys. If we're free, I'm doing something with Michael."

Before that might have created an outburst, and sometimes it still does, but the twins have learned other ways of getting what they want, without a sore bum to go along with it. Sometimes. "Huh, that's too bad Dean," Jared says.

"Yeah," Jensen says. "Seeing as you're, you know, on probation and all, would have been a great way to step up in the responsibly category, and show Father Winchester here how much you can be trusted by doing a good job. You'd think he'd be jumping at opportunities to do so, but," he shrugs. "Oh well."

I look to Papa to see if that's true. I know they're just trying to manipulate me into what they want, Papa knows they are too, but manipulation or not, they may have a point. Papa nods. "Yeah I know what they're up to, but I can't deny they're right. I would like to see you step up like that, Kiddo."

And that folks, is the Winchester Way in action. It's not always to do with spanking, even if it's a lot to do with spanking. I resign myself, because yeah I do want to show Papa how responsible I can be. I look to Michael. "Will you come?"

Michael brushes a hand through my hair, feeling sorry for me. "Hanging out with a group of teenagers is the last thing on Earth I want to do, but of course I will. I'd do anything for you."

"Oh my god they're so sappy," Jensen says.

And yeah, we kinda are. We get to be now; he can go fuck himself.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Michael?" Papa says, unable to conceal his glee.

Michael sighs. "I will come, providing Uncle Gabriel gives his permission."

"But you're coming regardless of him though, right Dean?" Jared says.

"Yeah, I'll come either way." There goes my night.

"Awesome. We'll need you to make a stop to pick up Hank on the way."

Hank. I don't like Hank. "I'm not a taxi service. Hank can meet us there. I'll drive him home, and that's the best deal you're getting."

"Cas?" Jensen says.

"Dean isn't a taxi service for your friends," he clarifies, because I kind of am for Jared and Jensen.

I smile because Papa took my side. "Dean, I do expect you to be the adult tonight. You're meant to keep them out of trouble."

In other words, I'm doomed. Daddy can barely keep them out of trouble. "Yes, sir."

Papa nods. "You'll be fine, I trust you Dean."

Oh god, that kills me. I can't keep the other thing to myself now, and besides, they can't stay mad at me for too long, their social life often depends on me. For the very short time they were ungrounded, while I was still grounded, before they got re-grounded, I was allowed out to tag along to keep an eye on them. Daddy and Papa do not trust them with good reason. They get up to a lot of trouble. "Jared and Jensen are having nightmares."

"Dude!" they say together.

Papa looks to me. "Only two, they come to my bedroom."

"We did, but never again," Jen says. Except they one hundred percent will whether I want them to or not.

"Why is this a big secret?" Papa asks.

"You'll make us do something about it, and it's just a couple of hunting nightmares leftover from all the hunting years," Jensen says.

"I agree with you," Papa says to all of our surprise. "I think nightmares are normal, and you've appropriately sought comfort. I don't feel it's affected your waking hours, but if I do see it is then yes, we will have to decide what to do about it." We means Team Adult, not Team Teens. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," we all say.

"That mean we can still crawl in with Dean when we need to?" Jared asks. See, knew they'd be back.

"So long as it's okay with, Dean," Papa says.

"It will be," Jensen says, but his eyes look to me a little concerned it won't be.

"It's fine with me, so long as you remember the rule I told you this morning."

They're both relieved. "We'll tell you."

"In the meantime, Papa, this mean I can leave to hang out with Michael today?"

"It does," Papa says smiling his proud smile at me. Okay, giving up my first night free sucks, but it's worth it for that look.

"But, not until the four of you clean up the breakfast dishes," Daddy says. "No one's going anywhere until this place is spic and span."

No one argues with that, too happy we've all been set free. Besides, it's kind of fun doing stuff simple as dishes together. We do that the Colt way and have some laughs. It's good bonding, like Daddy says.

"And before you say it Michael, no. No grace."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," he says, but I know he was.

It's when we're in the middle of washing and drying dishes, Michael tells me. "Um, you're going to have to drive today." Holy shit is Michael blushing? "Uncle Gabriel has the keys to my Jeep."

"How'd you get here?"


"And he didn't come in to sit at breakfast with us?"

"I begged him to drop me in the front yard, so I could explain the whole Jeep situation at a time more convenient. I think he took pity on me, even if I don't deserve it."

I laugh. "What is the Jeep situation, Michael?"

He sighs. "Uncle Gabriel and I got into a… disagreement last night. He has the keys for a week."


"I know, I'm sorry. I don't even know how it happens, and then there I am saying something I shouldn't. I blame Modlenol."

I have to give him that some. Even the Angel-brand messes with you. "Well I don't mind driving, Baby," I say and kiss his lips.

A wet dishtowel is thrown at my head. "Knock it off you two! Quit having sex in the kitchen," Jen says.

I peel the towel from my face. "It was a kiss, a small one at that."

"Whatever. Are we done, Dean? Jared and I want to go make some phone calls about tonight."

Maybe I see why Papa hates, 'whatever' so much. "Yeah, we'll finish up. Go'on." Their excitement about tonight is kinda cute.

When they're gone, Michael's mad at me. "I didn't agree to that. I'm stuck on dish duty too."

I wince. "Right, sorry. I should have."

"I'm starting to think I need to chat with Papa Winchester about this."

"About what?"

"You and them. You're a bit Daddy Winchester when he goes Captain of the Ship Sam Colt when it comes to them, but without enough Winchester."


"One hundred percent."

He's right. "Okay, message received. I'll work on that."

Michael nods. "To be clear, I'm not going to step in with most of the stuff surrounding the twins – that's clearly between you and your parents, but if I notice you're taking on too much for them, things that are clearly jobs that have been given to them, I will." He kisses me again. "Especially when it involves me doing extra kitchen duty," he teases.

"Got it, sir. I don't get it though, I thought you loved cleaning."

"Clean is what I love. Cleaning? that's simply a means to get to the end I desire, not something I relish in." He kisses down my neck, and my cock, which has been hard since Michael got here, gets harder. "Especially when I do want to fuck you into oblivion, now we're stuck here."

"We've got thirty minutes of work left."

"Ugh, then we should head over to see if Uncle will give me permission for tonight. He barely allowed me to come here. I need your help."

Which means we need to go in person, so he can see my adorable Dean smile. "Okay, kitchen, Gabriel and then sex at your apartment, sound good?" He smacks my ass. "Hey!"

"Sounds good."


Gabriel made the executive decision to move Angel Central to a new place, which Michael was responsible for finding, with a little help from Tom. It's every bit as big, but as he told Michael, it's some-place they can make new memories, since the old place had such horrific ones. It's also a place I'm now welcome.

First thing on our list of things to do before sex, is stop by to secure Michael's permission to hang out at the Soda Shoppe with me, so I can babysit the twins. It's my first time here, seeing as I've been grounded forever (though I was allowed out once to help with a particular packing project at the old place), but Michael's been here a lot more than he'd like to be. Not only was he grounded for some time, but Gabriel wanted him to move back in. Michael's still got his apartment, but he's not there much.

"Hello Dean," Tom says when we enter. "You get sprung from jail?"

Tom's been a lot friendlier since the whole 'End of Lucifer' thing. Daddy's even had him over for dinner a few times – which Michael and I both thought was weird since he doesn't need to eat – and he comes by for game nights, and Netflix marathons. He's found he enjoys popcorn.

"I did." He holds his hand up for a high-five. I got him onto doing that.

"Is Uncle around?" Michael asks.

"In his office, but Michael a little advice? You might want to go for a little more deferential than you were last night. You're getting on his last nerve."

I don't think I'll ever not be amused by just how rebellious Michael is with Gabriel. It's like he missed his teen years having Lucifer for a Father, and now he's living them. I can't quite call Michael a brat though. It's more like how Daddy is when he gets in a mood; willful. But willful, or brat, makes no difference. Still gets you in the same amount of trouble.

Michael nods, but because I know him so well, he's not answering in words to prevent himself saying what's he's thinking, which will get him into trouble with Tom. Michael grabs my hand, and leads me to Gabriel's office. He knocks on the door.

"Dean," Gabriel greets me when we head inside, his perfect curls bouncing like happy springs. "I see you brought my churlish son, home." Michael bristles. "Your father set you free?"

"He did sir," I say, doing the charm-thing I came here to do, lathering on the respect. It's already not looking all that good permission-wise at the moment. Call it a hunch, one honed from years of dealing with parental units, but I can tell Gabriel isn't feeling super generous with his wayward son.

"That's good, and I take it that means you two are not here on a social call? Plans are calling you?"

"Not our plans, sir. My brothers want to go somewhere, I'm the chaperone, and Michael's hopefully my company?" There we go. Maybe if I ask, and lay on as much Dean-charm as possible, he'll say yes. Parents love me.

"Where is this outing taking place, Michael?"

It's a normal Dad-type question, but Michael hates having to answer to someone, which is odd, and I still can't quite figure it out, because it's not like he didn't have to answer to Lucifer. Like, all the fucking time.

"It's at the Soda Shoppe, sir," Michael answers through grit teeth.

"Who will be there?"

"Is there a reason why that's important?"

I give Michael a searing look. That's not how you talk to a parent who has complete control over your social life.

"It's important, because I don’t want my kid hanging out with hooligans." He learned about hooligans from Papa, which I'm sure makes Michael over the moon with happiness.

"I am told it will be kids from school. Presumably Jensen and Jared's ages," Michael says, but his tone could improve. Not that I can talk, since I've been known to take that tone with my parents, but from experience, I know it's not a tone parents like so much.

"Dean, do you know these children?"

I can feel Michael's impatience growing, but thankfully he says nothing. "Some of them. If it helps, Papa seems to think it's a safe outing." I've learned parents like to hear when other parents think something is safe, when it's a parent they admire and trust, and this seems to ease any apprehensions said parent might have had.

"All right then. If Castiel thinks it's okay, I don’t see any reason to say no, except Michael, if you want to continue to acquire my permission for these kinds of things, I want to see an improvement in your attitude. Going out is a privilege, not a right. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." Is Michael blushing?

"You'll have him home by midnight, won't you Dean?" Gabriel says playfully.

"Before. I'm still on probation. Have to be home by ten-thirty."

I'm feeling pretty good by this point, permission is granted, we've reached playful stage, all we have to do is make a quick exit, but then Michael has to go and say something stupid. "Couldn't I get an extension this one time? I would just be at the Winchester's, Tom could come pick me up."

Oh Michael. There's a way to ask parents that question, and there's also a way to not, he's just done the not. It's also a timing thing. Tom tipped us off that Gabriel wasn't super happy with Michael already, as my father would put it, he came into this office on thin ice. That's a time when you say yes sir as much as possible, and take what you can get, not ask for things that are likely to upset said parent. Seriously, I should write a book on this stuff, and give a copy to Michael.

Gabriel's eyes change from playful glint, to just like Papa's when he's about to lay down the law. "We have been over this. Your curfew is non-negotiable. You're lucky to be let out at all after the way you behaved yesterday. In fact, you can expect some nos upcoming until you can learn to be more respectful. If someone can bring you home for midnight, that would be fine, no sleepovers tonight. Otherwise, home when Dean can drop you off." In addition to making a point of making Michael respect his curfew, I suspect that Gabriel's of the opinion that if you're going to be belligerent enough to get your vehicle privileges suspended, he's not going to generously cater to your travel needs. I note he does not give him the option of taking an Uber either.

Also, I know it, I can feel it like a sixth sense. Gabriel is one breath away from withdrawing his permission for tonight. I elbow Michael as subtly as possible and whisper "apologize." Thankfully, he listens.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Gabriel. I won't ask again."

"Thank you," he says. "Dean, you'd better take him away on that note, before he says something else to be kept in for the night."

See? "Thank you, sir," I say on Michael's behalf.

When we're out from under his watchful eyes, I feel like we've only just escaped with our lives, which is dramatic even for me. "Michael," I say and whack him. "That was too close."

"I'm sorry."

That's all he's got for me. We've already been through this, we'll be through it again. "Where should we go now?" I say, as we walk away from his uncle's office.

"Let's go to my apartment. At least we've got one place left where we can be alone. And besides, it was next on our list."

But when we get there, and slide the elevator door open, it's crawling with angels. "What in the name of Father is going on here?" Michael is incensed, and probably for a few reasons. Aside from the commandeering of his apartment, all of the angels are wearing their shoes, mucking up his floors.

The entire place, save his bedroom, has been turned into an office. Cubicles have been set up, in every square space they can be.

"Didn't Gabriel tell you?" one of the angels says. "He needed a place for our sector. It's just for a few weeks."

"This is my apartment. He didn't ask me, nor did he bother to tell me." Michael's grace starts to burn behind his eyes, and the angels in the room are scared. He could take them all out, this whole room. My boyfriend is so powerful; I fucking love it. It's hot. It's also no secret that he's the one who took out Lucifer, which let me tell you, leaves an impression. All noise stops, every angel frozen.

"Dean, a little help," an angel, whose name I don't know, asks me. They all know my name for the obvious reasons.

And I do, because I think he will regret obliterating his apartment later. Michael loves me, pretzel buns, and this apartment. "Michael, c'mon Baby. Let's go sort this out, eh?"

I approach him carefully, flinching when he moves too fast, to grab my arm. He stares at me, as I do nothing but breathe, not wanting to elicit a primal response. Finally he let's the blue light fade away, until just his Michael-blue eyes are left. Feeling it's safe now, I tug him to his room, and shut the door, as the angels go back to their… whatever it is they were doing.

Michael's still pissed, but at least it's not destroy-everything-in-sight, pissed. "He did this on purpose, Dean."

"Maybe. But look, we're alone. We got what we wanted."

"Those are angels out there Dean; they can hear everything we say in here should they choose to. I don't want them hearing what I intended on doing to you."

Yeah, he's right. "Please don't argue with Gabriel about this." It will for sure end in Michael being grounded tonight.

Michael flings himself onto the bed, frustrated. "I can promise you tonight, but not beyond that."

I sit down beside him. "Could you also promise me that when you do talk to him," because he won't be able to help himself, "you'll be respectful enough not to get into trouble? I just got out of trouble, and with the twins around, that's only bound to last for so long." I never thought in a million years I would be having this conversation with Michael.

My boyfriend.

My boyfriend Michael. That makes me feel so warm and fuzzy.

He reaches for my arm, and yanks me to him, I fall to his chest, right where I like to be. "Not fair, you know I can't deny you anything."

"Open-toed sandals, playing in dirt, the croissant that fell on the floor at breakfast."

"Anything aside from that which is dangerous and, or life-threatening."

I laugh. "A Floor Croissant is dangerous and, or life-threatening?"

"Yes. Who knows what's living on the floor?"

I roll my eyes. "Does that mean you promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."


We end up having to head back over to the manor, to get Michael some different clothes. Apparently, all of Michael's clothing was mysteriously relocated there. It was another ledge I had to talk Michael off of, and I know he promised me, but I still think coming here is a mistake. "Can't you just wear what you're wearing, or get something from Daddy?"

"No. I won't be long. Wait here," he says being all secretive. He's up to something; I know it. I leave him to it, and sit on the bench in the front entryway.

He said he wouldn't be long, but it feels like I've been waiting forever. I'm about to pull out my phone and text him to get his ass down here – yes he'll spank me, yes it will have been worth it – but my boredom is broken by quiet laughter. "Shhhh, I heard the kids come in," a familiar voice says. Oh my god that's Tom! What is he up to?

"I heard them head upstairs. You know they're glued at the hip." Fuck that's Gabriel!

I listen closely, and you'd think someday I'd learn, but no I don't. I hear distinct kissing sounds. What the…? Is Gabriel making out with Tom?

"Sorry, I can't keep my hands off you," Gabriel says between kisses, "and I've been so busy with Michael, haven't had time to do this."

Thankfully, I can't see what this is. Hearing it's bad enough.

"I'm not complaining about your hands."

Ugh, my ears! Can a person bleach their ears?

Their liaison comes to an abrupt end. "Sorry, Baby. I need to have a word with Michael before he leaves. Not only did he swing by his apartment today, he and Dean are going to some teen thing, I need to remind him about curfew."

Is that what parents really talk about while they make out?

I stand, just as Gabriel comes around the corner Tom-less, and sees me. "Dean, you were quiet out here." Fuck, he's shocked. Pretty sure he suspects I heard them.

Thankfully, we don’t get further than that, Michael's coming down the stairs, and we're both too shocked at what he's wearing to be concerned about Gabriel and Tom's make out session.

Most kids who rebel get a mohawk, dye their hair, get a tattoo. Michael has decided to wear a t-shirt, and jeans. They're not even a faded pair of jeans, but a nice, crisp blue pair. The t-shirt looks like it's been ironed (who the hell irons a t-shirt?), and it's a nice, grey V-neck.

I'm dressed almost the exact same way, but my t-shirt is forest green, and my jeans are in fact semi-faded, which is to say, his outfit is no more shocking than mine, but on Michael, it looks obscene, and like he's practically naked with his arms showing like that. He looks like we did when we were staying at Nan's over the summer, but more dressed up, with fancier jeans.

Oh no, has Michael gone his own Michael version of Colt?

"Michael, what are you wearing?" Gabriel says.

"I'm a kid. A teen, even. Now I'm dressed like one," Michael says, looking to me as if to say to Gabriel, 'example A; teen.'

Gabriel does look me over, and then back to Michael. It's easy to tell what he's thinking. Michael's not technically doing anything wrong, even though we both know he's doing something. "I suppose there's no rule against being dressed like that," Gabriel says, disapproval clear on his face. He doesn't like it, and I wouldn't be surprised if he dreams up some kind of rule about it eventually. "But we will discuss dress code later." After he talks to my father about the topic he means. "For now, Michael, I want to apologize about your apartment—"

"—no need sir, I'm not mad," Michael says.

Not mad? Not mad? He almost blew up his building.

"Regardless, I want to apologize anyway," Gabriel explains. "It's only for a few weeks, was a last minute thing; I had planned on telling you about it when you got back – didn't think you'd go there. And as we already agreed, you're living here for a little while now anyway." 'We agreed', is Gabriel's way of saying he finally got Michael calmed down about his decision. Gabriel's made it clear he's the parent, and Michael is the child who will obey him.

"I understand, sir. Was there anything you wished to speak with me about before we leave?"

Gabriel looks confused by Michael's response, or lack there of. I am too, but at least I'm gonna get to find out. He shakes his head. "No, just to be home by curfew."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you do this Dean?" Gabriel says. "I'm still unsure about the clothes, but I'll take this positive change in behavior."

I shrug. It's good to be the good-influence-friend, so I'm vague letting him come to his own conclusion. "Maybe, sir."

"Very well. See you boys later. Have fun."

"What was that all about Michael?" I say when we reach the Impala.

"He hates these clothes," Michael says with glee.

"I knew it! What are you trying to achieve though? You hate those clothes too."

"Actually, I find them quite comfortable." Sure he does. "I'm going to turn over a new leaf."

"Hooookay, Michael. This doesn't have anything to do with your apartment being hijacked, does it?"

"It has everything to do with it. It's all I've got left of my waning adulthood, Dean. However, disobeying him does nothing, but prevent me seeing you, which is not on." Michael's been adamant about spending every spare second he has with me after all the The Happenings. Some of his behavior with his uncle has resulted in him being grounded to Angel Central. "So I am looking for other rebellious options."

"You could always, I dunno, just do what your uncle says." And yes, I do realize this is me saying this, pot, kettle and all that.

"I don't think you understand. If I do that, what other kinds of restrictions will he impose? I can't allow him to have complete authority over me."

"Doesn't he though?"

"Technically, yes. But he doesn't need to know that."

"Pretty sure he knows. Didn't you say God literally told him that? I get it though, you're doing the things you can get away with, as a last ditch effort, to hold onto some of the type of autonomy you had before." Lucifer was strict about some things, sure. Michael had to drop everything and go to him when called, he wasn't allowed to leave Collins Country without permission, and he had a few rules when he was younger, but in between that, Michael had a lot of freedom.

Gabriel is way more a parent-y kind of parent, like my parents, and even though this development in their relationship is new, Michael has always been more Gabriel's son than anyone else's. Over the past few weeks, I've realized just how much Gabriel's been there for Michael. He did the best he could under the circumstances. Tom too come to think of it. Tom brought Michael everywhere when he was 'little', and was there for him in other ways I'm beginning to learn about.

They are quite the sight at family dinner, which oh yeah that. Gabriel has also been present for more than one family dinner, and he's been known to drop by to chat with my father to acquire parenting tips. Cue eye rolling.

"I only mean to make a point."

"Yeah, Michael? Parents seldom take kindly to that kind of thing." Oh. Oh. Oh I get it now. Amidst all the 'parent' advice I'm trying to give him, I realize that's just the thing. This is about Michael being a kid. The relationship between Michael and Lucifer was so dysfunctional, for all Lucifer would tout about raising Michael, he never truly got to be a kid.

Combine that with the fact Michael's sour about not winning the level of freedom he expected in being free of Lucifer, and you get this Michael. It's an oddly comforting thing to brush up against the boundaries set, and push at them, especially when you know inside those boundaries were made with love. You feel loved experiencing what it feels like to have loving boundaries enforced.

Personally, I think the whole thing is good for him. It's clear all of Gabriel's actions are derived from love and good intentions, even if he's sometimes very angel about it.

I'm not going to dare say any of this to him though, and look forward to see what Papa says about Michael's new clothes.

Papa doesn't disappoint. "Michael, what the devil are you wearing?"

"A t-shirt and a pair of jeans, sir. Have I broken a rule, sir?" Michael plays the innocent card, knowing full well he's not doing anything wrong, save freak everyone out a little.

Once again, Papa looks to the very next teenager in the room, which so happens to be me, and I'm dressed too similarly for Papa to say anything. Michael's right, it's the perfect crime. Maybe I should be taking tips from him. "No, but I don't like it. Can't put my finger on why," he admits. "It weirds me out." Papa learned that from me.

Michael is doing his best not to smile and give the game away, but he has to fight the corners of his lips curling up pretty hard.

"I think it's a good thing," Daddy says. "You've been dressing that other way since you were little, and don't get me wrong, you looked sharp sweetheart, but that's too stuffy for everyday."

Michael grimaces at 'since you were little'. Daddy refuses to call Michael anything else from those years.

"Well, now that I can be in charge of my own wardrobe, I'm finding my tastes have changed." Lucifer did prefer him to be formally dressed, but I call bullshit on his tastes changing, Michael loves being fancy.

"So long as you continue to dress nicely for church and Sunday dinner, I don't see the problem," Papa says like he's being asked permission.

Michael remains quiet, only a simple nod of acceptance, but I feel his hand tightening around mine in irritation. "Uh, where are the twins? Don't we have to go?" I say, hoping to get Michael the hell out of here before he's in trouble with my father, which will put him in trouble with his uncle.

Daddy rolls his eyes. "Dear lord, they've been primping themselves for the past two hours."

"I hope they don't think they're bringing girls or boys home," Papa says.

They probably do. "No one's coming home in my car, 'cept the four of us," I tell him.

"I knew I could count on you, Kiddo. Keep them in line."

"That, might be asking a bit much, but I will keep them out of serious trouble," I promise.

Daddy pours us tea while we wait, and busies himself in the kitchen, while I spend some quality time taking Michael in, because you know, it's not like I see him all the time, or anything. Sue me. Things feel different now, like, for instance, we get to stare dreamily into each other's eyes. We don't realize we're doing it half the time, and can spend long silences this way.

I smile at him, and he smiles back. We even get a little shy, and start giggling at our ridiculousness.

"Oh, my God. Cas, you're really making them our babysitters for tonight? If I gotta watch them do that all night, I'm gonna hurl," Jensen says coming into the kitchen.

Michael's beaming smile for me, frowns into his usual scowl. "You know maybe we'll feel like coming home early, won't we Dean?"

As much as Jensen and Jared talk about themselves as one, Michael and I have started doing that a bit too. Is this what it feels like to be a real couple, one like Papa and Daddy?

"Can they do that? Cas, can they do that?" Jared asks.

"When Dean wants to come home, so do you. I suggest you behave yourselves," Papa says thus gifting me some kind of leverage over them.

"Awww man."

"Does everyone remember what time curfew is?" Papa asks without missing a beat.

It's midnight for me, but the twins are 'younger', and thus have to be home earlier. "Ten-thirty, sir," I answer for them remembering when my curfew was that early. Huh, feels kinda good to be, so old and mature as to be trusted with a midnight curfew, even though I complain about it. But for now, it's ten-thirty for me too, since I'm still on Winchester probation.

"We're like, the only ones in our grade with a curfew," Jensen complains, but wisely doesn't ask for an extension for. Papa does not like that, and while Jensen hasn't tried to find out yet, he's smart enough to figure out we've just been un-grounded, and he probably shouldn't push it.

"That can hardly be true," Papa says. Pretty sure they amuse him sometimes.

"Nope, ask around Uncle Cas. I mean Cas," Jared says.

It's not the first time he's slipped up like that, and it's hard not to have a moniker for Papa since he's so authoritarian. Jared gets kind of embarrassed, but he really doesn't need to. Jensen's already taken to calling Papa, Father Winchester, and Papa Cas, which began in jest and in combination to Michael's name for Papa, but he says it more and more.

"It's okay, son," Papa says – he's got no quams calling them 'son'. Papa's an all in kind of guy. He adopts you to be his son; you're his son. "I've already told you I'm okay with such a moniker, or something else of your choice."

Normally it's suggested to get the moddlified to address their new parents appropriately. With Jared and Jensen, things weren't so clear-cut. They're still old enough, they feel the brotherly relationship they had going with both Daddy and Papa, but they're noticeably young enough the relationship has changed, and it keeps changing. And I suspect that me, and the twins forming brotherly bonds, so quickly has hastened a more parental rapport.

Example, me telling them 'Daddy says it's time for dinner,' or 'Papa says it's time for bed.' It's bound to create that kinda feel for them too, at least in some way. That language will make its way into their brain.

Hence, no one's made them do anything as of yet, but Papa did invite them to use what they felt comfortable.

Jared nods in response, not wanting to offend Papa, but also unsure if he's going to go there. "Back to curfews, the boys of this house have one, and that's final. It doesn't matter much to me who else does and who doesn't."

Jensen gets the drift he's walking a fine line, and holds his hands up in supplication. "Not complainin', just noticin'. An observation, really."

I would love to let them walk themselves right back into trouble, my night would certainly be a helluva lot better, but I'm in the mood to be a good big brother tonight. "C'mon you two. Let's get out of here before all that hair gel crusts over."


"We'll be in, in a bit. Make sure you—"

"—yeah, bye dude," Jensen says.

"…behave," I say anyway, even though they're long gone. I close my eyes, and open them again. "Ugh, those two sometimes," I say.

"Impertinent," Michael says.

I fume in their direction for a few moments behind the wheel, as Michael reaches for my hand. "Forget about them, Duck. Look, we're finally alone now."

Delight spreads on my face. Finding alone time has been difficult, lately. I'm sure my eyes are glittering along with Michael's, and we're thinking the same thoughts. We scramble for the back seat, knowing time is not a luxury we have.

In short order, I'm on my back, in the backseat of the Impala, with Michael prowling on top of me. There's a moment where he stops to look at me, even the air seems to stop moving around us, like he's impacted it somehow. He's been doing this a lot since, well, I died. Cataloging me, looking at me in awe, at first that I was here at all, which morphed into awe of me generally. It makes me kinda shy. I can't look at his eyes for too long when he looks at me like that, the intensity threatening to consume me.

Finally, when I think I'll combust, he slides my shirt up enough to access my belt buckle. He's smiling. And it's not that lame-ass smile from before, it's a real smile, one that speaks of happiness, and on occasion will reach his eyes. Don't get me wrong, Michael's still exacting, sometimes cold, easily irritable archangel, he's just developed some tenderness, with me specifically.

He unbuckles my belt and slides it out of my belt loops. And then his eyes go dark. "Open," he says folding it in half. Michael and I have long since developed trust, I open and let him put the belt in my mouth. He's going to be rough. "That doesn't mean I don't want to hear you, I want to hear what you get past the gag."

My cock jumps, and I nod, since I can't say a standard, 'yes sir' with a belt in my mouth. With a last dark grin, he undoes my jeans, and I lift my hips so he can slide them off, and I feel the cool air for long enough to get gooseflesh, but Michael's quickly using his new-found angel mojo to warm up the car. He's proud whenever he can do these things for me, no matter how small, and I'm only just beginning to understand what living without the use of his powers meant to him; what it took from him. He's borderline adorable about it, but like hell I'll tell him that.

Michael starts kissing my hips close to where my rock hard cock is weeping, hoping to fuck it'll get to go in his mouth. It's the only way he can tease me right now, however, and so it will likely get forgotten, which will just make it harder. We don't have a lot of time, the hallmark of rushed, trying-not-to-get-caught, teenager-sex.

Suddenly, Michael's tongue is wet, and hot in between the cheeks of my ass, setting my cock alight with a tingling sensation. "Mmmmmm. Mmmmmhhh-uuuuuh!" I moan, frustrated. I want him to touch me so bad, but instead, he licks up my crack, and under my nuts, anywhere but my poor cock, who's getting oh so lonely.

"Oh, poor boy. So needy. Just for me, isn't that right?"

"Mmmmm-huhmph," I say around my own belt. Fucking Michael. Fuck me, before someone comes by. Sure we're hidden, but we're not invisible.

But no. He drives me crazy, sucking along the spine of my hipbone, pulling all kinds of sound from me, as I keen and buck and writhe. I can't even curse him properly. All the while, Michael smirks with his eyes, but his lips are soft, telling me that while he plans on being sadistic, there's love there. Deep love.

Knowing I'm not getting anything I want until he decides it's so, I surrender. Michael takes his time sucking and licking at my hole, getting it wet, and then sliding a finger in. Finally, he gives my cock some attention, licking up the shaft, and breathing on it, continuing to pump fingers into me.

As his fingers move in and out, in and out, my cock's hardness ratchets up until I’m trying to beg him with the fucking belt in my mouth. "What's that? I can't understand you I'm afraid. You want me to stop?"

"Nooooo! Fuck no. Please," I shout, but it comes out muffled. I know he can understand me anyway, especially my head shaking frantically.

"All right, I suppose I could play a little more," he says, ghosting a hand over my cock, which is starting to throb. "If you're a good boy, and you follow my instructions exactly."

I want to whine and complain, but I know what that will get me. And as much as I say whine and complain, the idea of following Michael's instructions, and being a good boy is super hot. Also the fact that I know he will extract vengeance should I disobey.

"I want you to spread your legs, don't look at me like that, best as you can."

I want to roll my eyes, oh how I want to roll my eyes, but I want whatever he's about to do to me more, and if I misbehave I'm not going to get what I want. Like a good boy I can sometimes be, I spread my legs, slinging one over the seat, and the other off the seat and to the ground. "No, I think not. Up there," he says tapping my left thigh.

He means for me to put my other leg up, and have my foot resting on the top of the driver's side seat.

"We've done enough yoga lately, you can manage."

Have we ever. A good story for later. For now, I do as he says, propping my heel on the seat, effectively spreading myself over for him, as wide as I can be. "Yes. Fuck Dean, you look so hot like this. Someday I'm going to tie you up like this, and torture you for hours," he says, tracing a finger over my balls, and then dipping it inside of me.

My cheeks heat at being so wide open, and on display like this. It's worse in the best way with his eyes on me, enjoying the view, taking his time opening me some more with his fingers. I can feel how wet it's getting down there, which is a fun new thing he can do with his angel mojo. We may never have use for lube again, and I am okay with that.

Satisfied that I'm desperate enough, he unzips his jeans (I still can't get over he's wearing jeans out of the house like this) and pulls them and his boxers down, taking a whole leg out. I get a nice viewing of his ridged cock, which I notice is leaking just as much as mine is. He gives it a few tugs, and then leans over top of me, planting one hand on the leather seat beside my left ear. With the other, he reaches for the belt. "Open." He removes the belt contemplating. "I've love to mark you up with this, but not enough room. Next time."

Dropping the belt to the side, he uses his hand to help guide his cock into me, which slides in with ease. From there it's like he can't hold back any longer, and he slams his cock home, pulling it out again just as quickly, so he can ram it back in. Michael's using force tonight, as my spidey senses indicated he might, but tonight, it's not just fucking – as we do at times, because let's face it, sometimes it's just horny teenager sex – he's trying to get deeper, deeply connected to me, to own me and make me his all over again.

He hits my prostate over and over until I'm begging anew. "Please, oh god please Michael, I need to come so bad."

"As you wish."

I take that as a yes, and when his cock brushes into me again, and over the sweetest spot, my cock releases everything built up inside of it. So does Michael's, and he's beautiful as he comes inside me.

When we're re-dressed, and have come out of our sex-drunk haze, we know what we have to do. "Ugh, we actually have to go in there don't we?"

"Yes. And it's been enough time they could have ended the world by now."

"Yeah, well we should go then," I say really fucking regretting that we have to leave the car and therefore our cozy little love nest. Michael and I spend a lot of time together, but our alone moments have been sparse the last few weeks. "Before we do though, there's something I should tell you."

"Oh?" he says, concern etching into his features.

"I think your uncle and Tom have a thing going."

Michael's face scrunches up in consternation. "I know."

"You do?"

"Yes. They think they've been clever in hiding in from me, but they are not that clever."

"Why haven't you said something to them?"

He smiles a smirk-y smile. "Aside from that it's customary to not delve into the love life of one's… parent, their terrible subterfuge amuses me greatly."

Of course. I laugh. "So it doesn't bother you?"

"No. I've noticed something between the two for a while. In helping, and looking after me they've grown close. Neither of them said it in so many words, but I got the impression they were afraid to start something with Lucifer around. Now that he's gone they are finally free."

"Meanwhile, they're concerned they're going to traumatize you. You could put them out of their misery, you know."

"I could, but it's so much more fun this way."

We exit the car, and hold hands in public, loving it's something we're free to do now, as we enter the Soda Shoppe. There are a lot of fucking teens here, and this is totally a party, but I doubt Papa believed them anyway when they said it's not. Michael and I find a booth where I can spy on my delinquent brothers, and I convince Michael to let me order junk food.

They don't appear to be doing anything suspicious, just talking to a group of their friends, hamming it up for them, but you never know what they've got going on in the underground. Once I've ordered, I get their attention and wave them over, to which they give me a look that says they'd really rather not. To which I put on my best Daddy, and a look that says they'd better get their Coltish, Winchester butts over here in about three seconds, or we can go home.

They slink over, and slug themselves down into the opposite side of the booth. Michael and I are being gross and sappy, and sitting on the same side of the booth, so we can snuggle. "What do you want Dean?" Jared says, put out.

"Yeah. This is so not cool man," Jensen says.

"Not trying to be cool, Jen. I'm your older brother, and I'm making my presence known." I learned that one from Papa. "Don't do anything ridiculous, and I won't have to embarrass you by getting Michael to lift you each by the scruff of your shirt collars and drag you out of here. Other than that, I won't embarrass you by associating with you in any way, shape, or form. Meet us out at the Impala by ten after ten sharp, so we can get home for curfew."

"Yeah, yeah," they say.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Better. Now go have fun."

They're as annoyed as I would be if one of my parents just gave me that lecture, but my ass is on the line here too. Once they're gone, Michael and I resume our Love Fest. He puts his arm around me, and I snuggle in. "You know, this is like our first date since…" I don't say it. Michael still can't talk about it in a for real way.

"This is not counting as our first real date. I intend to take you somewhere nice."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Have you forgotten about Sunday dinner?" he says.

Oh right, forgot tomorrow was Sunday, and Michael made a promise to my father not so long ago (even if it feels like soooo long ago), he would commit to attending each one.

"It will regrettably have to be next Saturday, so block that off, your plans are with me."

I love it when he's commanding like that. "Yes, sir. Ugh, that means tomorrow is church day. Church days have become such a pain with everyone." Not to mention, Papa has to get all strict because Jensen and Jared can't stop complaining for five seconds. It's like they've never been church before. Jeez. Jake still doesn't like his church clothes, and he's such a heartbreaker about it.

We get our food, and man does it taste delicious after eating weeks and weeks of only healthy stuff. Daddy's on a tear in the health food department these days for some reason. Sure, he's always into health food, but lately, that's taken a whole new meaning. I am gonna enjoy the fuck outta these fries.


The night goes well, but I'm distracted doing a lot of admiring of Michael in his new clothing choices. I can see his biceps; I can't help it. Not to mention, I can still feel him from in the car earlier. Michael eats with me, even though it's not necessary for him. I thought he'd tell me things tasted different, or like dirt, but he says nothing's changed from before.

After I stuff my face, I luxuriate in the feeling of Michael, sinking into him, allowing myself to get comfortable. I miss laying with him naked in his bed. We've had a very PG-13 relationship of late. Papa, and Daddy have allowed us a little more leeway on that front, we're allowed to cuddle on the couch during movies, more than just the standard hand holding. They really are trying to give me some adult privileges, but I want to rip Michael's clothes off and make out with him.

Papa sat Michael down in his office after the Happenings, for what Michael described as the longest conversation about sex in his entire life, which is saying something. It ended in a spanking for Michael, which succeeded in making him swear off even trying to have sex with me for a week, even though Papa didn't ever tell him we couldn't.

Surprisingly the spanking wasn't for the having of the sex. My parents know Michael and I have sex, they're not stupid, but they expect us to be appropriate about it. Having sex outside of Doctor Miller's house? Inappropriate.

My parents may have resigned themselves to the fact we have sex, but they're also not going to give us the all clear to fornicate in my room whenever I want. They're not going to make it easy, which I suppose is fair, they are my parents, but we thought we'd have Michael's apartment. I wonder if Papa's already got to Gabriel on the whole sex thing in teenaged bedrooms?

Yeah probably. Guess it's going to have to be car sex for a good long while. Even the tree house isn't safe these days. Michael kisses my crown. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Sex is going to be hard," I tell him.

"Is that what's on your mind? Is that all that's ever on your mind?"

"I am a teenager Michael. Sex is always on my mind. You're a teenaged archangel, shouldn't it be on your mind double?"

He's quiet for a few moments, and then he admits it. "Fine, you're right. But thinking about it's non-helpful. My cock is hard right now," he whispers in my ear, which in turn makes my cock hard.

I look to where the twins are, and the time. "They were told to meet us out at the car at ten after ten. How about we wait out there?"

"You trust them to do that?"

"Not exactly. Fine. One more round and then we come back into wrangle them to the car?"

"Fuck Dean, I don't think I have a choice. I need to be in you," he says quietly.

It's a good round of sloppy, frantic, teenaged-sex. I throw my head back when we're done, even Michael having to collapse for a moment on top of me. Things are good, things are so, so, so good. We have to scramble a bit with our clothes when we, to our huge surprise, hear the twins approaching – we really thought we'd have to wrangle them. We get ourselves together, just in time.

"Oh my god, are you two…? Ew! Forget it, I'm not sitting back there. I'm calling an Uber," Jensen says.

Jeez. I open the door and Michael and I pile out. Jensen and Jared are there with their friend, Hank. I don't like Hank. I don't trust him. Don't know what it is, but my sixth sense just goes on alert with that guy. "You're fine," I tell him. "Get in the car."

"When did you become, so bossy, Dean?" Jared says trying to be cool in front of their delinquent friend. I just know he's delinquent. Maybe he's one of those hooligans Papa always talks about?

"Since I've been charged with the responsibility of the likes of you two, now quit messing around. We have to get going, if we're going to be on time."

I notice right away, Michael's looking at them funny, and then he crosses his arms. It only takes a second of standing with them for me to catch on. "Oh my god, you idiots smoked weed!"

"Shhhhh, not so loud. Besides, it's totally legal in the state of California," Jensen says.

"Not for fourteen-year-olds," I counter. "Why? Why did you do this?"

Jared shrugs. "We like it? Guess you should have been keeping an eye on us instead of having sex where we have to sit. Ew!"

I suppose he does have a point, I should have been watching them and not having sex with my hot boyfriend, but that doesn't erase the fact that they should not have been smoking up. "Yeah, I did fuck up, but that doesn't make this okay. Get in the car." I'm surprised when they actually look chagrined. I quickly check my phone, as I go round to the driver's seat, huh, it's only nine-thirty. That means they must have known we'd need time to deal with this. They fucking planned all of this, hoping I'd dig them out of trouble. Jerks.

When we're all in the car, including Hank who I can tell is silently judging us, I slam my head against the seat. We just got out of being grounded. But it's not just that, this means I will have let my parents down yet again. I already did the worst thing they could imagine, by racing off to fight demons and dark angels, getting myself turned into fertilizer, such that only God himself could put me back together again. I've spent weeks, weeks earning their trust and good graces back, and in just a few hours, I've wiped it away again.

Dean Winchester, thy name is fool.

"You know Dean," Jensen says. "I bet your boyfriend could help us out."

Hank (hopefully) doesn't know Michael is an archangel, so Jensen talks in code, but we all know what he means. Michael gives Jensen his best glare, but then takes my hand and relaxes his features into something softer just for me. "These two deserve to be skewered, but I know that means you skewered with them, well, and me too. I'm willing to help them for us."

That is very tempting. I also appreciate Michael giving this to me as my call. Tonight was about me being responsible, and I was decidedly not. It's also a something between my parents and I, not a Michael and I thing. My father is going to expect Michael-involvement, he'd likely expect Michael to make me come clean about this, but Michael really meant it when he said we'd get up to some kid mischief together, and this classifies, so he's keeping his Top-hat out for this one. Weed is a big deal to my parents, but surprisingly not Michael. He's against smoking it for all the stuff it does to your lungs, and also vaping because of what it did to that seventeen-year-old kid, but the oils, and edibles? He's for medicinally.

But my parents, have never allowed recreational use even minimally like they have for alcohol, and far as any of us know, the twins aren't using it medicinally. Even if they were, that would be something Papa and Daddy would want to consent to on their behalf, as their parents, a privilege they would have to earn, just like a beer at a Colt party would be, or have been recommended by a physician. Basically, this is not going to go over well. Ugh. Fuck my life. "I need to think about this, let's just get Hank home."

"Wait, you guys said they'd help me too," Hank says. "No way I'm getting thrown under the bus by myself. My parents still think weed is a gateway drug."

Little shits. They did bank on me helping them out. They're wise enough to keep their smart mouths quiet. "Then why did you smoke it, Hank?"

"Because I like it?"

"Try that one on your parents, Hank," I say not caring at all. He wants to break his parents rules; he can deal with them. I've got my own parents' rules to deal with.

"Forget it. You guys send me off on my own, I'm telling all, and my parents will call your parents."

I hope the twins are seeing what a not-awesome friend Hank is. I look at Michael, and he shakes his head apologetically. He can't use his mojo on Hank. One of Gabriel's rules, not just for Michael, but all the angels he's in charge of, expressly forbids the use of grace in front of muggles, er humans, unless absolutely necessary, or in the case of someone like me, who already knows about them. Michael might be argumentative about other things, but he won't disobey that order, not for something like this anyway.

"I read about some drops that can be used for the eyes to make them less red? Visine," Michael says. "How about some of those to start?"

I nod and start the car, totally mad at myself.

No one talks all the way to the gas station, and when we get there, Michael offers to run into grab the Visine. "Hank, you're coming with me," Michael says in no uncertain terms. The little dweeb goes with him, having the sense to look afraid of Michael.

Which leaves me alone with my two delinquent brothers. "What the hell were you two thinking? We are in so much trouble."

"We were thinking your angel boyfriend would do his thing, snap his mystical fingers, and bippty-boppity-boo!" They both burst out in giggles at themselves. They are totally stoned.

"You know Michael can't do his thing on Hank. Wait, what did you tell Hank?"

"Don't worry, he doesn't know about Feathers. We just said our awesome big brother and his boyfriend would help us out, but you are being totally not awesome right now," Jensen says.

"Yeah, more like bogus," Jared adds.

"Okay, Bill and Ted. Calm down. You're lucky I'm not back there spanking you right now for this. Wouldn't that be a sight for Hank to see?" They think he's so cool, I'll never understand it.

I see both sets of eyes, in the rearview mirror, widen in shock. "You wouldn't?" Jared says.

Would I? I just… said it like nothing; peeled off my tongue. Felt so natural after hearing someone say that to me all my life, be it Papa, Daddy, Uncle Dal, Uncle Chris… the list goes on. But I haven't actually spanked the twins yet. So, would I? You know what? I one hundred percent would. And what's more, I get it now. I get what they're doing; they're testing me. They're seeing where I fit in the Winchester hierarchy, hell, I get to see where I fit.

And see it's a bit convoluted. There's Colt Law, and Winchester Law, which run side by side in my family as if two roads parallel to each other, existing at the same time, taking you different places, the twain shall never meet kind of thing. But us boys, we've been trying to build some bridges between the two, because fact is, we're Colts and Winchesters.

Winchester law is clear on this one. You come clean, and accept the consequences. End of story.

But Colt law? I know if I were with my Colt cousins, they'd say we keep it between the teens, since nothing truly harmful was happening. I think of the many times some of the older cousins let the littler cousins do things we weren't supposed to.

Nothing harmful is going to result from this. They're stoned, but it will wear off, they'll probably sleep more soundly than ever, and I won't have to see that terrible wince of disappointment on Papa's face. Or Daddy's. And oh my god Uncle Dal and Uncle Chris. What's the use in having access to grace, something almost as good as the power of God, if you can't even use it?

But none of these thoughts overrules the one that's most important to me, the one I learned from the man himself, my father. I have responsibility to them. All weed smoking aside, because I don't care about that so much, they're literally testing me to see just how seriously I take my responsibility to them. Sure they'll be pissed at me, but they're gonna feel so safe knowing that I'm willing to put my own ass on the line doing what's best for them. I know what I have to do.

There's also the me to consider, which Papa has underlined is important. What they did wasn't cool on that level too. Sure an older Colt Cousin might let you have an extra beer when they shouldn't, but that's trouble they're consenting to. There's a mutual trust in that exchange, the trust in that you can handle another beer, so he's not going to get in trouble for your drunk ass doing something stupid.

I did not say I was on board with this, and now my ass is on the line for something really stupid, something I've never even done myself. I am not okay with this, and they're going to know. This totally breaks brother code!

Michael and Hank are heading back toward the car. Michael's smiling too brightly, and Hank looks like he just saw the boogey-man. I guess giving me a moment alone with my brothers wasn't the only reason he pulled Hank away. He's a lot quieter when he gets into the backseat, sitting on the outside this time, squishing the twins together. "Here's the Visine," Michael says.

"Thanks, I'll take that," I say. The twins and Hank watch on horrified as I drive by the trash and toss the Visine away.

"Hey! Whadja do that for?" Hank says. The twins have already caught on.

"Sorry, not sorry, Hank. You're just gonna have to tell your parents what you did. We're telling ours."


I couldn't be happier getting Hank out of my car, and then I head to Casa de Winchester.

"You're really gonna rat us out?" Jensen says.

"I really am."

"But then you'll both be in trouble too," Jared says.

"We will, and we're going to talk about that tomorrow, but first things first."

I take Jensen by the scruff of his neck, and Michael takes Jared, and we frog-march them into the house, stopping to take our shoes off, and then heading through to the living room where Daddy and Papa are cuddled up together Netflix and chilling. Sadly for them, they're not going to get to the chilling part of that.

"All right, lemme go," Jensen says. "Stop being dramatic."

"Dean?" Papa says sitting up. "Everything okay?"

"No it's not."

"Everything's fine," Jared says. "You're makin' him think we're dying, dude – which we are not." For some reason, that sets him off giggling, which sets Jensen off giggling. Oh yeah, that's right they're stoned.

That gets Papa standing, and Daddy too. "Somebody better tell me what's going on soon."

"These two imbeciles got stoned," Michael says. He crosses his arms, doing his best to pretend like he's one of the adults reaming them out, but that's about to end real quick.

"How did that happen? You two were supposed to be watching them," Papa says.

Michael's posture changes to more subdued, I suddenly wish I'd have let Michael do whatever he was going to do to hide their stonedness from our parents. I put my bravest face on. "We were watching them, but then we went out to have sex in my car." My whole body winces.

"Dean Daniel, Jonathan Winchester," Daddy says. Wow. Four names is Colt for not-good. That's all he needs to say to me for me to know everything about how much he's going to tell me off later. He turns to Michael. "Michael, if Dean is going to be irresponsible, I expect you to have some sense."

Michael bites his lip. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Explain yourselves," Papa says to the twins.

"It was stupid," Jensen says. "We don't even like smoking weed really. Just, all our friends were doing it, so we toked up. It was such a small amount, we didn't think it'd be a big deal." Huh, they both told me they liked it, so either they're lying to Papa, or they lied to me.

"It is a big deal. The children of this house have not yet been permitted so smoke weed. Jared and Jensen, head to bed. I'll deal with you before church tomorrow. Dean, Michael stay. Sit."

Awww, man.

"You mind if I help them get to bed, Cassy? I want to get the smell off them, they smell like skunk."

"Go ahead, Baby." He kisses Daddy, and then rounds on the two of us when everyone's gone, and there are no witnesses to hear us scream. "The disappointment I feel is monumental, Dean. I made it clear you were on probation, this does not bode well for you."

Ouch. Like, fucking ouch.

"Yes, sir. Am I grounded again?" I have to know. It feels like it's been forever, and it really sucks I will be again for probably forever.


"What? Really?"

"Yes. You know I always appreciate you coming clean, and owning up. When you are honest, and I don't have to catch you the consequences will be much less severe."

"Sooooo that's it?" I say hopefully, knowing there's no way in hell it could be that easy.

"Oh no, you're both getting a good spanking, but that's the only consequence owed here."

"What about Daddy? He looked mad."

"I'm not going to stop him lecturing you, but I am dealing with this. Stand up please."

Michael's quiet with dread, knowing he's next, I fill with dread when I watch Papa start to unbuckle the belt he's wearing. I stand, but all I can focus on is Papa pulling at the buckle of his belt, and unlatching it, and then sliding it through the loops in his pants. He does it seamlessly, the mark of a man who's done it hundreds of times.

"Why aren't your pants down, young man?"

Because of that I want to say. Thing with leather is, you can make it nice, so fucking nice, and it can leave the most beautiful fucking bruises to look at for later, but you can also make it sting like hell, and bite, and I have no doubt that's what Papa intends to do with it. Quickly, so as not to earn any more than I already have coming, I remove my jacket, undo my jeans, and pull them down to the top of my thighs, leaving my boxers up.

"Bend over, hands on the arm of the couch, please."

I do as instructed, leaving my ass out and vulnerable.

"Dean, when I tell you to watch your brothers, I expect you to keep both eyes on them, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," I say wincing for what I know is coming. Papa lays down ten solid stripes on my clothed bum, each one elicits a wince, and sharp breath. I want to run when he reaches under the waistband of my boxers, and pulls them down, letting the night air drift across my already sore cheeks, but leaving them up enough to cover my important bits from target range.

"I expect," whap! "a lot more," whap! "from you, Dean." whap!

Every single one of those is a trial. A sting that radiates outward and stays in the same spot all at once. He's not in a generous mood tonight, and some of his stripes end up in the same spot, deepening the level of fucking, ow! It's not by accident. "If I ever have to chastise you for this again," whap! whap! whap! "sitting will be a distant memory."

"Y-Ye-ow! Yes, sir."

He lays down another ten and they are not nice. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

He doesn't give me much reprieve, as I tell him what I have to say from myself. "I'm," wince, "sorry, sir, and" whimper, "I, ah! I'll, next time, you can count on me," I get out before the next one. "Two eyes, four! I messed up, and, ah-ow! it was the wrong example to set. They look up to me!" I realize as I say it they do. Weeks ago, I looked up to them, but Modlenol changes a lot.

He pauses, and I get to rest. The sting in my ass is prominent though. I try not to squirm, I want to show him how well I can accept the consequences, but man does it ever hurt. "They do, son. We've all noticed they do."

I nod, as Papa rubs lightly over his work on my ass, which I appreciate. It doesn't alleviate the sting as much as I'd like, but it's something. "You can't properly guide someone who doesn't respect you. They might be upset with you at times, but they'll appreciate that you won't allow them to do foolish things."

"Yes, sir."

"All right, we'll finish up with ten more, and then I want you in that corner while I deal with Michael, we're not done talking."

The last ten are very reminiscent of the way Grampa Clyde gives a proper hiding with his belt, at least the version I've recently had after the whole happenings saga, which I'm told was easy compared to what he gives others. If that's easy, I don't know how anyone can manage hard. Point is, it was not fun, but his opinion was if I wanted to race off and do big boy things, I could have a big boy spanking. Papa's definitely taking a page out of his book, and I've got to use my best breathing techniques to make it through.

I am never so glad to be done, and I almost wish I'd just been grounded instead, almost.

Gingerly, I pull up my jeans, and head to the corner, while Papa reads Michael the same riot act he gave me, only his includes a hefty lecture on what he should and shouldn't be allowing me to get up to. I don't envy Michael what I can hear Papa laying down on him with this leather belt.

When it's over, I get called back, and we're both made to sit again, which neither one of us is able to enjoy. Michael will heal faster than I will, but that, what I heard Papa doing to him, he'll feel till he gets home, at least. I grab his hand, both because I'm still relishing every second I can, and when you go through a spanking together, it's natural to seek comfort, and give comfort. I feel a contented, buzz, actually, even though Papa's not done with us.

"Now that we've dealt with your irresponsibility, I want to talk about sex in public, before Daddy gets back."

He one hundred percent threw them both in a bath, probably together to teach them a lesson. I almost smile thinking about it. They'll be busy awhile yet.

"I've been over this with you both separately. Daddy and I have relaxed the rules about that." My parents talked about a lot in the days following the events after Lucifer. In deciding what constituted 'more responsibility', sex was included. Daddy admitted it was something that was going to be hard for him to adjust to, Papa reluctantly admitted I've been a teenager a long time, and so long as I was responsible, it wasn't something I was going to be in trouble for. They weren't stupid, they knew we were having sex before, but it was sort of an underground, we'll turn our heads so long as you're not too obvious and it'd better not be in your room Dean Winchester. But now, well I've not been given the go ahead for the house yet, but I think that's where they intend on going with it. "Why the car? Weren't you at Michael's apartment today?"

In case anyone is wondering, yes, this is as awkward as it seems, and yes I'd rather have another go with Papa's belt than this. "Michael's apartment is the new site of some kind of angel headquarters for a few weeks," I explain.

"Ah. What about Michael's, um, bedroom?" Guess it's just as hard for Papa too.

"Too many angels there, sir," Michael answers for us.

Papa gets it, angels can hear things real well. He nods, and then takes a deep breath, like he's not sure about what he wants to say, but it's got to be said. That's the kind of thing he's got to do as Head of House. I expect something bad, but it's really… good. "I've already run it by Grampa Winchester, and he's on board considering your circumstances Dean, and well, you're still his favorite person, of course."

"Oh board for what, Papa?"

"It's a little out of the usual, but it still falls within the jurisdiction of the Winchester Way." Okay, now he's just building the anticipation on purpose. "I was going to redo the rec room downstairs, make it a better, more grown up games room for you, your friends, and the twins and their friends – Lord knows they need someplace to have friends over where I can keep a better eye on them."

Unless Papa's suggesting we have sex on the pool table, I don't know how this connects. "That sounds awesome, Papa."

"It will be really nice, but where I was going with this, I'm going to redo the bedrooms down there, make it one larger bedroom, for you and Michael."

Michael and I have to look at each other to make sure we both heard the same thing. "Um, sorry sir, but what?" I ask.

"Michael's not moving in, you still have to ask to have him over, but you can move to a new bedroom, a more private one, and it would be permissible for you two to… have sexual relations when he stays over."

Ew! Did my father just say 'sexual relations' in reference to Michael and It? I don't care how old I get, this will never be comfortable.

"Your uncle Dallas brought forth the idea, actually. He made a good point that when he moved in here, he was seventeen. We allowed him to have, visitors, when he was eighteen. Regardless of your age, we want to trust you with this in a more grown up way. How does that sound?"

"It sounds awesome, Papa. Like, the best thing ever."

"We expect you to be a grown up about it, Dean. It's still a privilege." And we all know privileges can be taken away just as quickly as they are given in Winchesterland.

"Yes, sir. I can be trusted with this, I'll make you proud—"

"—you always make me proud, son."

"Not to bring it up again, buuuuuut…"

"What you did tonight was not something I'm proud of you doing, no, but overall you make me a proud Papa."

I didn't even cry during that spanking, this kinda stuff's what's making me tear up. "But Papa, I messed up royally tonight. Why would you do this for us? I'm not sure we deserve it."

Michael's not saying much, I can tell he feels the same, and pretty sure he's been shocked into silence. "This is most certainly not a reward for what you two did, but at the same time, tonight's made me realize it's time. You really impressed me by coming to me with this, I know the courage it must have took, and I think if you had been given the same level of adult respect, it would have given you the space to make more adult choices."

Wow. Just wow.

"But, uh, warning. Daddy is not ready for this. He wasn't against it, but he wasn't thrilled either."

"I don't want him to be upset, Papa."

"He'll be fine. He just needs some time to adjust is all. I think he mentioned something about picking all new furniture."

Papa does know Daddy the best, so I trust him. "Okay then, I'd love that, Papa." Somehow this makes me feel like Wendy leaving the nursery.

"It's settled then. I'll have the contractor come by the house on Monday."

Wow so soon. "What's settled?" Daddy says returning to the living room.

"I told the boys what I was planning in the basement."

Daddy's face falls a little, but only a little. "My baby boy's growing up," Daddy says.

"I'm not moving away, Daddy."

"I know, sweetheart. I'll be okay, but don't think I've forgotten about what you did tonight."

"We were spanked within an inch of our lives," I say hoping for sympathy. I, of course, get none.

"I'm sure Papa gave you a decent lecture too, but I want to underline, you are growing up, when you are in charge you need to act like it. It's not a responsibility you are given lightly. What would it have been like if I cut out while looking after all my Colt siblings?"

Yikes. Yeah, the whole house would have burnt down. Not to mention, Daddy had a whole lot more responsibility than they're expecting me to have, but I get it, having some is important for developing life skills and what I've been given pales in comparison to what Daddy had at my age. It's time to step up.

"I really am sorry, Daddy. That's part of why I cam clean. I wanted to be held accountable for this. What I did was irresponsible, anything could have happened, especially with those two."

Daddy sits himself between me and Michael putting an arm around each of us, and we both lean into him, so he can cradle each of our heads in his large hands, and kiss each of our crowns in turn. I know what he's thinking as he does it, same thing he's said out loud for weeks: I'm glad God gave me more time with you two.

"Sending you two to look after them for an event like tonight wasn't just for show. Frankly, we don't trust them with the kinds of stuff we'd trust you two with." Man, I'm so fucking touched. "You need to do better."

"We'll do better," Michael promises.

"We will. In fact, tomorrow after church, I'm having my own brotherly chat with them," I say.

"And I'm helping," Michael adds.

Daddy nods. "Good, I was going to suggest it."

"If everything is settled, I think it's time we all retire for the night," Papa says. "Michael, are you staying over?"

Whoa. Papa really is trying.

"I won't be allowed, sir," he admits. Yeah. He's gotten on Gabriel's last nerve. "Would someone mind taking me home?"

"Here, Baby." I pull the keys to the Impala out of my pocket, and toss them to him.

"Really?" he says.

"Not like you'll crash her."

"Yeah but," he takes a breath he doesn't need. "I'll bring her back in time to pick you up for church."