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“Shh Sammy, quiet down a bit. Dad is right on the other side of the door, and I really don’t think he wants to hear us.”
“Come on, he’s heard us before. Hell, he’s seen us before. He won't care. And Dean, I want to be able to scream when you fuck me.”
“Sam..."
“So what if he hears us? It wouldn’t be the first time, it's not gonna be the last. Besides...”
Sam’s voice has lowered to a whisper, but John can still hear it, he can still hear everything. He downs the rest of his bottle.
“You know you like it, Dean. You get so fucking turned on by knowing that he could walk in any second, don’t you?”
There is a wet sound, lips against skin.
“You get so fucking turned in by it, Dean, I know you do. You want your Daddy to know how good you fuck your baby brother?”
John can hear Dean whimper, and then there is a rustling of clothes. The sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor reaches him, but it doesn't startle him. Not anymore.
More wet sounds. One of them, maybe both of them, is panting.
“Newsflash Dean - he already does.”
Dean makes a sound from deep in his throat, and then somebody is being slammed up against the wall. John barely flinches, so used to it, to them, by now.
“God Sammy, you kinky little fuck. I’m gonna fuck you so damn hard. Screw Dad, the whole fucking city is gonna hear what a fucking slut you are. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck yes, Dean,” and John know that he should just get up, leave. God knows he wants to. He could go down to the bar down the road, repress this, repress everything, drown it in cheap alcohol. But he doesn’t. He can’t leave his sons in there, with only each other, not again, he needs to...
He doesn’t know what he needs to do, but it isn’t to run away. He has done that plenty. His running away, his letting the kids alone with each other so much is presumably what lead to this whole thing in the first place, this twisted, perverted affair, and if he just. If he just stays close, then maybe it will undo it. Maybe it can be okay again. Maybe they will be okay again, all of them.
He doesn’t move from his seat when Sam opens the door to the living room and sticks his head out. Even if he can’t help but feel like Sam is mocking him somehow when he says: “Goodnight, Daddy.”