Dear Addiction

Chapter forty nine

Hot, rough, and emotionless, filled with shameless moans and barely audible please. Hands bruising skin, gasped breaths, lips sucking hickeys into skin as nails scarred backs, that's how it always was with Lee.

Meaningless.

Done when they were higher than life itself, or Dean needed to feel used. Lee knew him, he knew his limits, or lack of them, what he liked, what made him tick, it was easier than finding someone at a bar that would only be able to half satisfy.

Someone who'd be able to cause only half the pain Dean wanted- needed to feel.

Lee was reliable, and that's why after him and Cas's fight, he spent the next hour walking to his friends house. Where he drank, played a few rounds of pool, drank more, then had his chest shoved onto the pool table, then once again against a mattress.

As he laid in Lee's bed his whole body ached, head still throbbing from his hangover, every muscle laced with pain, scarred with what felt like a permanent burning. He could hear Lee shifting to his left, the other's heavy breathing matching his own, then the sound of the bed squeaking as Lee stood.

"You good?" Lee asked, tone light and teasing.

Dean gave a small nod, lips parted hesitating for a second before he spoke, "just hungover."

"You look it."

His eyes fluttered open, meeting the white ceiling above, the light falling from the windows burning against his vision. Slowly Dean sat up, each muscle, specifically everything below his waist, throbbing in pain, something that only worsened as he shifted, swinging his legs over the edge 

"You know," Dean said as he looked over his shoulder to Lee. The other was pulling his pants on, chest still bare, his tanned skin now scarred with nail marks along his chest and shoulders. Dean didn't need to see his back to know it would be much worse. "You aren't lookin' too hot either."

Lee raised his middle finger, a smile tugging across Dean's lips as he turned back.

"Do you have birthday plans yet?" Lee asked as Dean grabbed his phone from the bedside table, the screen immediately lighting with a text from Crowley, 'On my way.'

"No," Dean mumbled. His finger's hesitated over the screen for a second, the bright light pounding behind his eyes, before typing a quick response.

'At Lees.'

"Good," Lee continued. "I was thinking we'd invite some people here, have a few drinks, a few lines, music, strippers."

"Some people?"

"Yah. Me, you, and a hundred of your closest friends."

Dean lips tugged up in a small smile as he grabbed his half finished beer from the table, and tipped it back for a quick drink. He then pushed himself from the bed, legs shaking, throbbing under the sudden weight.

"You know I'm supposed to be clean," Dean said, watching as Lee walked to the other bedside table, and began shifting through the drawer.

Lee closed the cupboard, before looking back to Dean. "And that," he said pointing the joint he had grabbed at Dean, "is what we have alcohol for."

Dean only gave a small shake of his head. He was too exhausted to be awake, never mind think of a party, especially one that involved him not being high. Instead he began walking across Lee's bedroom, a dull pain coming with each step.

"I'm goin' to get dressed," he called over his shoulder, getting a small hum in response.

He made his way across the hallway and into his own room where he would stay the nights he was too high to make it home, closing the door behind him. He then placed his phone, and bottle on top of the low dresser, his gaze staying there for a moment. Then another, a shaken breath parting his lips as he stared at the bottle until he finally looked up, gaze meeting the mirror that had been hung on the wall.