SpN fic: Public Enemies Book Two, (1/?)
8/7/11 07:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Public Enemies Book Two/ 1 0f?
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, John Winchester, original characters
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 1703
Summary: a 1920s AU *very* loosely based on the film, Public Enemy.
Notes/Warnings: abuse, dub-con, harsh images, morally challenged Sam, troubled Dean. There are hints of abuse, physical and sexual, but nothing terribly graphic. The rating is for the overall fic—it varies according to update. For a large part of the fic, the boys are underage.
follows from Public Enemies Book One
Public Enemies Book Two
Dean was leaning against the pool room wall, cigarette propped up on his lip, blowing spirals of smoke at the social club's grimy ceiling. He was killing time, watching the mugs lounging around, slap-punch play fighting, arguing with each other over lazy games of pool. Bill Boggs was nowhere to be seen, the fucking chump. The boy had almost given up on picking up a job--was racking his brain, trying to figure where he and Sam were going to cop a meal that night. There was a bit of commotion at the front of the club, he looked back to see Boggy come in, limping and wincing with every step, looking at nobody, and nobody looking at him. He had a black eye, thick and winced shut, and seemed to be favoring both his legs and his hip. He was cursing, loud and inventive, when he caught sight of Dean and jerked to a stop. Dean caught a glare that staggered him--the venom in that one-eyed stare. Why the hell Boggs was giving him the stink-eye made no sense—he'd done everything the two-legged weasel wanted. Nevertheless, Boggy seemed damn steamed. Enough that Dean was pretty darn nervous when he got the order to take his scrawny, ugly, trouble-making ass over to Assasi's—right away. Boggy just turned his back on him, left him empty handed and pretty fucking worried this was the rat's way of double-crossing him…"Uhm…Boggy…"
"What the devil are you still doin' here? G'wan before I…get outa here, before Mr. A comes looking for you personal."
It was the thin veneer of "gentleman" dropped from his speech and the way Boggs said it that made the hair on Dean's neck stand up, and he took off like a shot. Something was up and he could only hope that he wasn't being set up. Not like Boggy had a use for him, he had another daisy in his bed and Dean was just glad it wasn't him and up until today, Boggs hadn't seemed like he was looking to clear house like he had with Albert and Percy, poor fucks….
* ** * * *
Dean made it there in record time, sweat making his shirt and coat wet, and barely knocked on the door before Louie was pulling it open, and grinning at him, with both sides of his mouth and that startled Dean almost as much as the hate that'd replaced desire in Boggy's weasily eyes.
"Hey, Dean-o, ya made good time." He scrubbed a blood-stained handkerchief around his big hands—jerked his chin towards the alleyway. "Boss is waiting inna garage. He's got some news you might wanna hear."
Fuck! Dean looked at Louie askance, wondering if this was it, if he was walking his own last mile. After all, just because someone was nice to you on a Monday didn't mean they wouldn't shoot your eye out on a Tuesday. His eyes tightened and pricked with a sudden sharp flush of tears. His chest tightened until the breath died in his throat. He was terrified but not for himself. Maybe this had something to do with that crazy shit Sam was spouting—Assasi was going to kill him for Sam's stupidity, for his belief that anyone anywhere would do a fuckin' thing for them when Dean knew the best you could hope for was not be dropped in the river with a coupla cinderblocks tied around to your neck.
His horror notched up when he realized it was just him going to the mob boss's place. What if Assasi was just planning on ice'n him alone? What then? How was Sam going to make it without him? How would he live, who would make sure his baby brother wasn't hurt, left defenseless for fuckers like Boggs…Dean took in a deep shuddering breath. If he was dancing his last dance, then he could at least meet his fate like a Winchester. He drew back his shoulders and held up his head and followed an oblivious Louie.
* ** * * *
Mr. A looked up when Louie knocked on the door frame. The light coming through the high, narrow window in the garage threw weird shadows across his face as he moved past the open hood of one of his cars, that pretty green Duesy, Dean couldn't help but note. He looked at Assasi and shuddered, remembered being told a story about the Grey Man, who was made of fog and the wanting to hurt...and then Mr. Assasi was looking down on him and Dean fell into his whiskey colored eyes and his honey smooth voice and his beautiful ivory hands came down on Dean's shoulders. "Raggazo, I hear you don't like living in Bill's basement no more."
Dean wasn't sure what to say, what Mr. Assasi wanted to hear. If he said the wrong thing, would it be curtains for him?
"Don't worry, it's just you and me talkin'," Assasi smiled at him, and shook his head. For a breathless moment Dean wondered if Assasi could read him that easily. "Listen, you worried about Boggs? Well, screw that mick—" Dean jerked, but wisely kept his mouth shut, and Assasi went on, "you don't owe him nothing, see. I gotta place for you and yer little Sammy…it ain't much but it's time someone was living in it, yeah. The last tenant got in over his head an' I had to…" Assasi shrugged. "Eh--evict him." Mr. A winked and Dean figured that last tenant got evicted like Boggs' worn out daisys got evicted.
"Now, this ain't just a deal for you, raggazo, I ain't that nice a guy." Assasi eased lean hips back against the car's fender and hooked thumbs through his suspenders. "The way I see it, I don't have to hire no one else to watch my cars if you're livin' here, right? You keep on doin' what you been, with the keeping 'em in good shape, right? So. Place is up there." He jerked his chin upwards towards the coach house's loft. "Go get your things, collect that little brother of yours—you guys are moving up in the world."
* ** * * *
They stood quietly in the alley between the townhouses, their bags stuffed with what pitiful little they had to carry—mostly books in Sam's bag, mostly Sam's clothes in Dean's.
Louie met them in the alley, his heavy shoulders almost blocking the light in the gap. He brushed his lapels, winked, and grinned at them in a burlesque show uncle kind of way and Sam gave him a wide smile right back, his hazel eyes snapping with excitement. Louie shook his head and laughed. "Kid. C'mon, then—youse guys follow me," he said and led them through the alley into the courtyard and then up a narrow stairway at the back of the garage. The two boys hung back on the narrow landing, giving Louie space as he so he could unlock the door. He did it with a flourish, using old-fashioned iron key—the tumblers in the lock clicked loudly in the near silence, with a hammy little half-bow, he pushed it open.
Sam stopped short and Dean piled into him, they both stood open-mouthed, their bags dropping unnoticed to the boards.
The apartment was…clean. Bright, so bright. It smelled a bit of dust and disuse but that was a wonderful change from wet and mildew. The bright light fell on a small kitchen and sitting room. Louie pointed out the two bedrooms, tiny, smaller than the bedroom they'd shared in John Winchester's squat but warm, clean, and the beds were bigger and softer looking than what they'd been used to. Sam excitedly pointed out the narrow dressers for their clothes, hooks for coats and hats…each bedroom had a window, and shutters to close over them.
Louie waited until they'd finished exclaiming over the miracle of beds with thick mattresses and then, when their eyes are on him again, he opened a final door and behind it, a bathroom. They nearly knocked each other down trying to get in the door.
Sunlight poured in through a small frosted glass window. The room had it all--a toilet, a sink. A tub. Sam pointed out the shower head, the unspotted mirror over the sink. White and green tile, trimmed with black, gleamed on the wall, the floor. And clean, all of it so clean. Dean swallowed hard.
"Gosh," Sam said, his voice faint with thrilled shock. "Gosh…"
Dean reached out and took Sam's hand, and when their fingers touched, he almost cried. He asked Louie, "All this for us?" and the fat man nodded, a soft look in his eyes.
Dean felt his stomach sink; a chill crawled up his spine. If this was all for them, then what was the price…and how could he convince Assasi to take it only from him?
Louie's face was crinkled with smiles, nothing hard or cruel there. He seemed to genuinely be enjoying their awe. "Yep. All yours, buddy. 'Course, you gonna have to work for it."
There it was, Dean thought. No surprise there---hell, first lesson, nothing came for free. He licked his lips…Boggs hadn't been…bad. It hadn't hurt, not much. And for Sam, this was…this was worth it. Hell, it was worth more. He opened his mouth to ask Louie if they could go somewhere that was not this wonderful, magic, place but Louie had already turned to go down the stairs.
"Mr. A says alla cars're in your charge now. That's your new job. Take care of 'em, keep 'em clean like Mr. A likes, keep 'em tuned and ready to peel out on a dime…you gotta lot to learn Dean-o. And your brother. School, that's your job, Puddy boy. All right, youse get settled, get some shut-eye--tomorrow, you start payback."
They watched the fat man negotiate the narrow stair and then Sam turned to Dean, his eyes dancing. "Dean--this is a--a miracle. It's a sign, hunh? Things are gonna start looking up for us, now, right?"
Dean swallowed. "Sure they are, Sam. Signs and miracles, that's what this here is."
* ** * * *
When morning came, Dean rose quietly so as not to wake Sammy, and tiptoed down the flight of stairs to the garage. Mr. Assasi was already waiting for Dean at the garage door, standing half in the shadow. Dean walked towards him and Assasi watched him come, his head tilted to the side, his eyes giving nothing away. Dean stopped in front of him, licked his lips. His throat clicked when he swallowed and he cursed himself for being nervous…this was nothing new to him. He let his knees unlock, began to drift down and Mr. Assasi's hand wrapped around his shoulder and squeezed—hard. Dean froze. He had no hint what was coming, but he'd be damned if he'd punk out in front of the man. Dean worked up a cocky sneer and stared up into Assasi's eyes.
"Ah, ragazzo, I don’t need nothing like that. I don't take payment like that, ever. And you ain't ever doin' nothing out of your free will again, you hear? Anything you give to me, you give it freely. Right?"
Dean nodded.
"Not good enough," Assasi said. "Say it so's I know you heard me…"
Dean stared into Mr. Assasi's eyes, whiskey colored eyes that seemed to suck all the air out of Dean's lungs. He felt the whisper of something inside, maybe the beginning of devotion, something he'd only held for Sam before this…"Anything I give you, I give freely…" his heart burned, his eyes burned. He'd never been treated with anything like respect before. Assasi stared down at him solemnly, as if he valued what Dean said, what he offered. It felt…good.
"I know you got one thing on your mind alla time, your brother. That's good." He slipped cool, elegant fingers into the soft part under Dean's chin, and lifted his head. "You take care of Sam. You keep him safe. You keep him close."
Dean swallowed and tried to nod, and Mr. Assasi dropped his chin with a chuckle. He jerked his own towards the little apartment. "Go tell the angel you're okay before he explodes." He walked away, still chuckling and Dean turned to catch Sam staring at him with a thunderously dark expression. He held his hands out to Sam and said, "He told me to take care of you."
Sam's face lightened at that. "Told you, told you this was a good idea. Come on back upstairs—there's good milk in the icebox!"
part 2
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, John Winchester, original characters
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 1703
Summary: a 1920s AU *very* loosely based on the film, Public Enemy.
Notes/Warnings: abuse, dub-con, harsh images, morally challenged Sam, troubled Dean. There are hints of abuse, physical and sexual, but nothing terribly graphic. The rating is for the overall fic—it varies according to update. For a large part of the fic, the boys are underage.
follows from Public Enemies Book One
Public Enemies Book Two
Dean was leaning against the pool room wall, cigarette propped up on his lip, blowing spirals of smoke at the social club's grimy ceiling. He was killing time, watching the mugs lounging around, slap-punch play fighting, arguing with each other over lazy games of pool. Bill Boggs was nowhere to be seen, the fucking chump. The boy had almost given up on picking up a job--was racking his brain, trying to figure where he and Sam were going to cop a meal that night. There was a bit of commotion at the front of the club, he looked back to see Boggy come in, limping and wincing with every step, looking at nobody, and nobody looking at him. He had a black eye, thick and winced shut, and seemed to be favoring both his legs and his hip. He was cursing, loud and inventive, when he caught sight of Dean and jerked to a stop. Dean caught a glare that staggered him--the venom in that one-eyed stare. Why the hell Boggs was giving him the stink-eye made no sense—he'd done everything the two-legged weasel wanted. Nevertheless, Boggy seemed damn steamed. Enough that Dean was pretty darn nervous when he got the order to take his scrawny, ugly, trouble-making ass over to Assasi's—right away. Boggy just turned his back on him, left him empty handed and pretty fucking worried this was the rat's way of double-crossing him…"Uhm…Boggy…"
"What the devil are you still doin' here? G'wan before I…get outa here, before Mr. A comes looking for you personal."
It was the thin veneer of "gentleman" dropped from his speech and the way Boggs said it that made the hair on Dean's neck stand up, and he took off like a shot. Something was up and he could only hope that he wasn't being set up. Not like Boggy had a use for him, he had another daisy in his bed and Dean was just glad it wasn't him and up until today, Boggs hadn't seemed like he was looking to clear house like he had with Albert and Percy, poor fucks….
Dean made it there in record time, sweat making his shirt and coat wet, and barely knocked on the door before Louie was pulling it open, and grinning at him, with both sides of his mouth and that startled Dean almost as much as the hate that'd replaced desire in Boggy's weasily eyes.
"Hey, Dean-o, ya made good time." He scrubbed a blood-stained handkerchief around his big hands—jerked his chin towards the alleyway. "Boss is waiting inna garage. He's got some news you might wanna hear."
Fuck! Dean looked at Louie askance, wondering if this was it, if he was walking his own last mile. After all, just because someone was nice to you on a Monday didn't mean they wouldn't shoot your eye out on a Tuesday. His eyes tightened and pricked with a sudden sharp flush of tears. His chest tightened until the breath died in his throat. He was terrified but not for himself. Maybe this had something to do with that crazy shit Sam was spouting—Assasi was going to kill him for Sam's stupidity, for his belief that anyone anywhere would do a fuckin' thing for them when Dean knew the best you could hope for was not be dropped in the river with a coupla cinderblocks tied around to your neck.
His horror notched up when he realized it was just him going to the mob boss's place. What if Assasi was just planning on ice'n him alone? What then? How was Sam going to make it without him? How would he live, who would make sure his baby brother wasn't hurt, left defenseless for fuckers like Boggs…Dean took in a deep shuddering breath. If he was dancing his last dance, then he could at least meet his fate like a Winchester. He drew back his shoulders and held up his head and followed an oblivious Louie.
Mr. A looked up when Louie knocked on the door frame. The light coming through the high, narrow window in the garage threw weird shadows across his face as he moved past the open hood of one of his cars, that pretty green Duesy, Dean couldn't help but note. He looked at Assasi and shuddered, remembered being told a story about the Grey Man, who was made of fog and the wanting to hurt...and then Mr. Assasi was looking down on him and Dean fell into his whiskey colored eyes and his honey smooth voice and his beautiful ivory hands came down on Dean's shoulders. "Raggazo, I hear you don't like living in Bill's basement no more."
Dean wasn't sure what to say, what Mr. Assasi wanted to hear. If he said the wrong thing, would it be curtains for him?
"Don't worry, it's just you and me talkin'," Assasi smiled at him, and shook his head. For a breathless moment Dean wondered if Assasi could read him that easily. "Listen, you worried about Boggs? Well, screw that mick—" Dean jerked, but wisely kept his mouth shut, and Assasi went on, "you don't owe him nothing, see. I gotta place for you and yer little Sammy…it ain't much but it's time someone was living in it, yeah. The last tenant got in over his head an' I had to…" Assasi shrugged. "Eh--evict him." Mr. A winked and Dean figured that last tenant got evicted like Boggs' worn out daisys got evicted.
"Now, this ain't just a deal for you, raggazo, I ain't that nice a guy." Assasi eased lean hips back against the car's fender and hooked thumbs through his suspenders. "The way I see it, I don't have to hire no one else to watch my cars if you're livin' here, right? You keep on doin' what you been, with the keeping 'em in good shape, right? So. Place is up there." He jerked his chin upwards towards the coach house's loft. "Go get your things, collect that little brother of yours—you guys are moving up in the world."
They stood quietly in the alley between the townhouses, their bags stuffed with what pitiful little they had to carry—mostly books in Sam's bag, mostly Sam's clothes in Dean's.
Louie met them in the alley, his heavy shoulders almost blocking the light in the gap. He brushed his lapels, winked, and grinned at them in a burlesque show uncle kind of way and Sam gave him a wide smile right back, his hazel eyes snapping with excitement. Louie shook his head and laughed. "Kid. C'mon, then—youse guys follow me," he said and led them through the alley into the courtyard and then up a narrow stairway at the back of the garage. The two boys hung back on the narrow landing, giving Louie space as he so he could unlock the door. He did it with a flourish, using old-fashioned iron key—the tumblers in the lock clicked loudly in the near silence, with a hammy little half-bow, he pushed it open.
Sam stopped short and Dean piled into him, they both stood open-mouthed, their bags dropping unnoticed to the boards.
The apartment was…clean. Bright, so bright. It smelled a bit of dust and disuse but that was a wonderful change from wet and mildew. The bright light fell on a small kitchen and sitting room. Louie pointed out the two bedrooms, tiny, smaller than the bedroom they'd shared in John Winchester's squat but warm, clean, and the beds were bigger and softer looking than what they'd been used to. Sam excitedly pointed out the narrow dressers for their clothes, hooks for coats and hats…each bedroom had a window, and shutters to close over them.
Louie waited until they'd finished exclaiming over the miracle of beds with thick mattresses and then, when their eyes are on him again, he opened a final door and behind it, a bathroom. They nearly knocked each other down trying to get in the door.
Sunlight poured in through a small frosted glass window. The room had it all--a toilet, a sink. A tub. Sam pointed out the shower head, the unspotted mirror over the sink. White and green tile, trimmed with black, gleamed on the wall, the floor. And clean, all of it so clean. Dean swallowed hard.
"Gosh," Sam said, his voice faint with thrilled shock. "Gosh…"
Dean reached out and took Sam's hand, and when their fingers touched, he almost cried. He asked Louie, "All this for us?" and the fat man nodded, a soft look in his eyes.
Dean felt his stomach sink; a chill crawled up his spine. If this was all for them, then what was the price…and how could he convince Assasi to take it only from him?
Louie's face was crinkled with smiles, nothing hard or cruel there. He seemed to genuinely be enjoying their awe. "Yep. All yours, buddy. 'Course, you gonna have to work for it."
There it was, Dean thought. No surprise there---hell, first lesson, nothing came for free. He licked his lips…Boggs hadn't been…bad. It hadn't hurt, not much. And for Sam, this was…this was worth it. Hell, it was worth more. He opened his mouth to ask Louie if they could go somewhere that was not this wonderful, magic, place but Louie had already turned to go down the stairs.
"Mr. A says alla cars're in your charge now. That's your new job. Take care of 'em, keep 'em clean like Mr. A likes, keep 'em tuned and ready to peel out on a dime…you gotta lot to learn Dean-o. And your brother. School, that's your job, Puddy boy. All right, youse get settled, get some shut-eye--tomorrow, you start payback."
They watched the fat man negotiate the narrow stair and then Sam turned to Dean, his eyes dancing. "Dean--this is a--a miracle. It's a sign, hunh? Things are gonna start looking up for us, now, right?"
Dean swallowed. "Sure they are, Sam. Signs and miracles, that's what this here is."
When morning came, Dean rose quietly so as not to wake Sammy, and tiptoed down the flight of stairs to the garage. Mr. Assasi was already waiting for Dean at the garage door, standing half in the shadow. Dean walked towards him and Assasi watched him come, his head tilted to the side, his eyes giving nothing away. Dean stopped in front of him, licked his lips. His throat clicked when he swallowed and he cursed himself for being nervous…this was nothing new to him. He let his knees unlock, began to drift down and Mr. Assasi's hand wrapped around his shoulder and squeezed—hard. Dean froze. He had no hint what was coming, but he'd be damned if he'd punk out in front of the man. Dean worked up a cocky sneer and stared up into Assasi's eyes.
"Ah, ragazzo, I don’t need nothing like that. I don't take payment like that, ever. And you ain't ever doin' nothing out of your free will again, you hear? Anything you give to me, you give it freely. Right?"
Dean nodded.
"Not good enough," Assasi said. "Say it so's I know you heard me…"
Dean stared into Mr. Assasi's eyes, whiskey colored eyes that seemed to suck all the air out of Dean's lungs. He felt the whisper of something inside, maybe the beginning of devotion, something he'd only held for Sam before this…"Anything I give you, I give freely…" his heart burned, his eyes burned. He'd never been treated with anything like respect before. Assasi stared down at him solemnly, as if he valued what Dean said, what he offered. It felt…good.
"I know you got one thing on your mind alla time, your brother. That's good." He slipped cool, elegant fingers into the soft part under Dean's chin, and lifted his head. "You take care of Sam. You keep him safe. You keep him close."
Dean swallowed and tried to nod, and Mr. Assasi dropped his chin with a chuckle. He jerked his own towards the little apartment. "Go tell the angel you're okay before he explodes." He walked away, still chuckling and Dean turned to catch Sam staring at him with a thunderously dark expression. He held his hands out to Sam and said, "He told me to take care of you."
Sam's face lightened at that. "Told you, told you this was a good idea. Come on back upstairs—there's good milk in the icebox!"
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Public Enemy
8/8/11 05:07 am (UTC)Re: Public Enemy
8/9/11 09:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
8/8/11 07:26 am (UTC)Aw, poor boys! It's heartbreaking how excited and happy they are about the little apartment, and how Dean assumes he'll have to pay for it.
Can't wait for more!
(no subject)
8/9/11 09:47 pm (UTC)As soon as I've got my SVBB rough draft squared away, I'll come back to this. :)
(no subject)
8/8/11 09:25 am (UTC)*hugs and cookies *
(no subject)
8/9/11 09:48 pm (UTC)I will continue soon! :)
(no subject)
8/8/11 12:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
8/9/11 09:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
8/8/11 09:44 pm (UTC)Okay, I'm good now. Course, once you put a tommy gun in that boy's hands, you might actually put me out with hotness.
(no subject)
8/9/11 09:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
8/8/11 10:09 pm (UTC)But for serious, I am really enjoying the show. Glad you're on to Part II.
(no subject)
8/9/11 09:51 pm (UTC)I am a jerk--but a cute one! ;)
Two more chapters in this section and then--they grow up! (cue the ominous music)
*GGG*
(no subject)
8/8/11 10:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
8/9/11 09:53 pm (UTC)Morally ambiguous Sam is the best flavor of Sam. Love your icon. :)
(no subject)
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