white trash dick but i love him to death

quick disclaimer: i've only seen up to s2, so i'm not as familiar with cordell's later characterizations. this is based pretty solidly on his plot/characterization early on.

i think cordell is pretty shaken by it because he's never really slept with a guy before. the kid reminds him a little shamefully of hoyt at first with his wide grin and snappy one-liners.

that's part of the reason--the main reason cordell tells himself, even though dean's smile sticks weirdly in his stomach--he takes the kid out for a drink and doesn't kick him out of his car.

his intentions are pretty pure, which is why he even takes dean back to his own bar. it's loud on a friday afternoon, and geri is thankfully no where near austin this week, and the people behind the bar are all relatively new hires.

dean looks out of place in a bar like this--a little too well lit for his comfort, shifting on his feet and looking at the street signs and horns on the walls with a raised brow.

cordell asks him what he wants and dean says with a pithy little smirk: "something with alcohol in it, doc."

cordell grabs them two bottles of beer and meets dean back at the table. he takes his hat off and puts it on the table between them. cordell notes dean's eyes fall to it, and he takes a big sip of his beer.

"so are all marshalls allowed to steal from local establishments or did you cut a deal when they gave you your badge?"

cordell raises a brow before dean looks pointedly at the bar where cordell didn't drop any cash. cordell snorts,

"ah, well--i mean. ha. yeah. no, i own the place, actually."

and dean shifts in his seat, because this guy just got a bit more interesting.

"full-time marshall, part-time bar owner?"

cordell huffs a laugh, taking a swig of his beer. "probably flip the two actually. i spent more time here fixing the toilets here last month than i did at the station."

"probably for the best. i don't spend a lot of time with cops." dean says the word distastefully, and a little antenna shoots straight up on cordell's head. dean leans in. "but i respect the hell out of a man who knows his way around a wrench."

cordell's beer freezes half-way to his mouth. that was definitely innuendo, right?

cordell hasn't been hit on a whole lot since he's been back in austin, and he's out of the practice of it. he figures he radiates grief like a toxic cloud, and it prevents women from getting close enough to try. the kid doesn't strike him as gay, but cordell thinks a little bashfully that he wouldn't really know, would he?

before he and emily were a done deal in high school, cordell had slept around a little. austin's a big city, and youth is all for exploring, right? he'd tried hooking up with a guy, but it wasn't really for him.

so it's a little surprising that the kid is hitting on him, but it's even more surprising that cordell finds himself responding to it, warmth on the back of his neck underneath his flannel.

he remembers he's wearing his work clothes today, and looks out at the setting sun with a wince. his momma's gonna skin his hide. after they got the new horse, momma's been insisting on doing a spring cleaning on the stables, which included getting more hay stockpiled in their barn, which included cleaning out the old barn. his daddy'd been dragging his feet on it, and they'd finally got liam in town long enough to help.

they'd almost definitely noticed he'd gotten lost on his way back from the hardware store, and he takes out his phone to shoot liam a pleading text.

tell momma i ran into a...cordell looks up at the kid in front of him, who is casting a look around the bar with his bright green eyes like he's scanning for threats. cordell snorts. an old friend.

cordell tucks his phone back into his pants. god, he looks like a scrub. his jeans are so worn at the thighs and knees that he's one thread away from flashing his goods to the world. he's got his oldest, dirtiest pair of boots on, and an off-white beater poking out from a threadbare flannel.

if dean's hitting on him when he looks like this, he's got terrible taste.

they end up talking about dean's fake alibi--hunting with his baby brother--and dean gets talking about his annoying but brilliant baby brother. cordell pipes in about liam, about how cordell was always the dumber older brother who knew how to fix up an old car but couldn't pass a calc class for shit.

dean lights up. they talk about their fixed up vintages and debate the finer points of american cars. dean doesn't even linger awkwardly over emily like everyone always does, especially the very few people that've tried to hit on him.

dean tells him very, very little about himself, but talking with him, cordell feels weirdly, strangely seen. the kid is also goddamn hilarious, and cordell almost sprays miller out of his nose more than once.

the bar gets busier and busier and so they lean closer together as the sun sets so they can hear each other. cordell's stomach rumbles so he orders them some food and dean makes an absolutely pornographic noise when he eats the chili.

cordell can't take his eyes off of his mouth.

it's been hours and cordell has places to be and surely dean's brother is worried about him, but every time one of them remembers this, they get sucked into a conversation about 80s movies or daytime soap operas (abeline has been raising that boy on days of our lives since infancy okay?) or bbq.

drinks get poured. they switch from beer to whiskey when dean says it all whiskey tastes the same and cordell gets straight up offended. he's not that into it either, but he's a few drinks in and his daddy talked nonstop about his favorite bourbon that cordell's taking offense on his behalf.

"it's cause you're like, what? 23?"

dean flutters his lashes, cheeks a little pink with drink. "now you don't gotta flatter me to get into my drawers, tex."

"what usually work?" cordell asks, meaning the attitude or the lashes or the thick fake drawl he's adopted or all of it. but dean just leans in a little closer.

"i don't know." he says, licking his bottom lip and tucking it underneath his teeth. "you tell me."

needless to say, they tumble out of the bar giggling and shoving a few hours later, and dean hauls cordell in by the front of his beat up flannel and tucks him against the side of the building like he's tried hooking up with men in less-than-forgiving states before, and his breath is hot on cordell's mouth and he feels like he's drinking that whiskey again straight from his mouth, thick and warm and burning all the way down.

"i gotta motel room five minutes away." he pants. "m'brother's out."

and he probably woulda said something else, but suddenly they're kissing.

driving back to the motel is an exercise in restraint, cordell white knuckling the truck he shouldn't be driving on four beers and a whiskey and dean in the passenger seat, obviously hard and fingers gripping the heft of it over his jeans.

cordell has him up against the door as soon as they're inside. he hauls dean up like he's nothing, and when he goes to take his hat off, dean pries his mouth away and shakes his head and pants keep it on, keep it on, so he does.

twenty minutes later, dean winchester is face-down, ass-up on his bed, cordell's huge fucking hands leaving bruises on his waist. dean spent five minutes trying to suck his monster cock, but cordell had gotten all blushy and flustered seeing dean's lips stretched wide and begged him off.

his bicep is bigger than dean's head and dean almost whimpers when he finally gets cordell completely naked. their sex gets a little acrobatic.

cordell's calling him baby boy and praise drips like honey from his tongue and he's probably more duke than cordell right now, single-minded and so turned on he can't think. dean's like a dream under him, all red face and little unh, unh, unhs and right there, fuck, please.

the hat fell off somewhere, and one of cordell's boots is somehow on the kitchen table when he goes to leave a few hours later. after they fucked, dean kissed around his chest lazily, and it had been so long since cordell has been touched like this that he let it happen, a weird lump in his throat and a hand in dean's hair.

dean had eventually jacked them off together when cordell (not twenty six anymore, thanks) finally got hard again, whispering shit in cordell's ear like "you gonna let me fuck you, hm? bend you over and split you open? you'd like that, i'd take such good care'a you." and cordell embarrassingly comes to that.

cordell doesn't "hook up" with people. he hasn't in two decades, outside of a job. he doesn't think dean wants his number, so he doesn't offer it. dean stops him on his way out after cordell puts his hat back on and kisses him one last time with as much filth as he can.

"see ya around, doc." he says.

cordell leaves with his head spinning. he slinks back into his house and dreams of green eyes and greedy hands and a plush mouth.

he wakes up the next morning to his momma hitting him with a magazine.

~~~

"you hooked up with a cop?" sam asks incredulously, and dean winces.

"shaddup." his head is pounding and sam is not helping. he inhales his coffee greedily as sam continues to stare. "it wasn't like he was a cop-cop."

"my bad, a marshall--" sam starts to roll his eyes, but stops. "wait, he??"

dean raises a brow. "you gonna get weird on me, sammy?"

sam sputters out something in the negative, but now he's stuck on the image of dean hooking up with a man. a dude. a guy.

a guy that's not sam, that could never be sam, but the fact sam has a penis isn't the factor here. a man. a guy.

dear running in jeans in texas walker anon, he is bursting with jealousy. he asks dean questions about it all day, randomly blurting "so did you keep the cuffs on or was it a one time thing?" or "when you said fuck cops when we were kids i didn't think you meant it literally" or "did you ask him to keep the hat on? oh my god you totally fucking did"

dean DREAMS about cordell. daydreams, night dreams, wet dreams. all of the above. his ass is so sore he sits weird all the next day. his thighs are bruised and his waist is bruised and his mouth just waters thinking about the veritable weapon cordell is carrying around in his pants.

he daydreams about cordell coming in hot and sweaty from hauling hay and shoving dean down in the barn, making him smell how hot and sweaty and fucking manly he is through his worn-though jeans. getting his mouth around his dick and cordell's eyes being shaded by his cowboy hat as he hauls dean in, dean scrabbling against the leather of his boots. he daydreams about cordell in one of those old-timey can-can dancer dresses and dean in the hat, cordell's powerful thighs against the soft satiny frilly skirt, dean taking him up to a hayloft and fucking little mewls out of him.

which is why not even forty-eight hours later when they run into each other again, three chupacabras dead and a group of hikers saved, dean lights up like a kid in a candy store.

cordell has been working pretty much nonstop since his momma woke him up, because she was so pissed he ditched the family. he gets to clear the cobwebs in the hayloft and lay the rat traps and fix the ladder and sort through scrap vs junk all by himself.

by the time mickey gives him a call that night, he's covered in dirt and grime and is pretty sure he needs another tetanus shot.

he doesn't get to shower before he sees dean again, much to dean's absolute delight.

sam is absolutely seething with jealousy because oh my god this guy is fucking jacked. he's huge. he looks...weirdly familiar. dean's hooking with someone that looks like someone they both know, sam just can't quite put his finger on it.

do they hook up again? absolutely they do. dean makes good on his promise and finds out that cordell will actually cry a little if you press on his prostate just right. he stays the night and wakes dean up with a blowjob that's so good (it's really not, he's never done this before, but dean is smitten) he almost kicks cordell in the head.

they trade numbers as sam and dean head out of town and sam mercifully doesn't comment on the sad mournful sighs dean lets out every few minutes but mercilessly does comment on the johnny cash tape dean puts on.

(after the fact, after cordell awkwardly admits he skipped out on helping because he got caught up in someone he almost detained, liam laughs so hard he almost falls over. mr. goody-two-shoes, hooking up with a criminal? cordell cuffs him upside the head and they end up scuffing in the kitchen until they almost knock over august's science project on the kitchen table and abbeline threatens them with mucking duty for a month.)

i had SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS OMG!!!! please pop back in to talk about dean/cordell with me anytime. holy shit this was delightful.

thanks for the ask, anon! <3 have a great week!

-lizzy