Oh, The Places You'll Go

Family Benefits

Notes: Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle. Prompt: shock. Which was pretty much my reaction at writing Flashpoint slash. *blinks*


"She's gone. She took Dean and she's gone and I'm a piece of shit and could you come over, please?"

That had been several hours ago and now the two of them were sprawled out on the floor, Ed propped up against the couch, long legs going every which way, Greg's head using one thigh as a pillow. Greg's beer bottle swung wildly in the air as he catalogued all the ways in which he was a douche and a stain on humanity. Ed knew this for the crock of shit it was, but the guy was in shock so he wasn't about to correct him.

"I fucked her over, man," keened Greg. "I shoulda ... I don't know what ... been there. And now I don't have a son. This morning I had a son and a wife and now look!" He waved his beer-holding arm in an arc and Ed ducked to avoid being clubbed in the head with it. Policeman's instincts. Still had 'em, even when half-cut. "No wife. No son. I'm two thirds of my family down."

"See," said Ed, absently patting Greg's head, the fuzz soft under his fingertips. "You still got you."

Greg frowned up at him quizzically, lips moving. It made him look younger than usual and Ed had a sudden urge to noogie him.

"No," said Greg, finally finishing whatever calculations he'd been making. (Sharp this one, this was why he was headed for high places.) "You. The other thirty three and one third percent. That's you."

Ed blinked. Family. Wow, that was ... that was some heavy shit. Team, yeah, team always, but family? Greg scrambled to his knees and laid a hand on Ed's forearm, staring with the intense gaze that always cut Ed open. Jeez, how could the guy even focus after all that beer? He shifted uncomfortably, trying to look away but found he could not. The things Greg's face was saying, he'd been places similar enough to know how it felt, to know where it could lead and he did not want Greg going there. Wouldn't let it happen. Reaching out, Ed reeled Greg in and wrapped his arms around him.

Greg clung on, tight as a drowning man and Ed felt his body begin to shake. This was good. This was feelings. Repression was bad; he'd learnt that from Oprah or some other crap. Ed rubbed circles into Greg's back the way he'd done when Clark had those months with non-stop croup and walking, rubbing and crooning show-tunes had been the only way to soothe him. He leaned his cheek against Greg's head and murmured vaguely calming words.

"You don't need to talk me down, you know, I'm not holding you hostage." Greg's voice was muffled but Ed could hear the beginning of a smile. He pushed Greg upright and grinned.

"Then what do you need?"

Greg shrugged. "I don't know. I'm kinda numb here. You tell me. I'm gonna get some more beer." He made to get up but Ed caught his wrist, holding him in place.

"No. No more beer. You don't wanna ..." Yeah, dulling the pain with alcohol, not the way to go. Greg needed to feel something, to remember that there was something good. He needed- Okay, so Ed must be totally hammered to be thinking like this but he was and there was just the two of them and Greg's eyes were looking shiny again and, fuck it. He was family.

Sliding his hand up Greg's forearm, Ed pulled him in and kissed him. Giving him no time to react, Ed used his weight to bear Greg backwards to the ground and braced himself over Greg's body, thumbs stroking down his temples. For a second there it seemed like the shock had gotten to Greg who lay as still as the dead and Ed was hoping that Greg's idea of family didn't come with a capital F. Then his arms came up, hands fisting in Ed's shirt and his mouth opened and Ed pulled back, grinning. "That's my boy," he said.

And later, "I want to do this for you," as he got rid of Greg's pants, licking the tip of his dick, the salt strange on his tongue. "This is real. This is life. Okay?" Greg nodded his agreement but one arm covered his eyes and Ed got that because he wasn't dumb.

Slowly his lips sank down around Greg's dick, tightening around the shaft. He stroked his tongue up the underside, tracing the ridges, showing Greg who he was. Scissoring two fingers around the base, Ed used them to add to the friction, thumb rolling over Greg's balls, pressing harder until Greg shuddered and gasped. Ed sped up the motion of his mouth, pulling off and plunging back down, making a tight hole with his lips so Greg had to almost fight to get through it. Fighting was good. So was sucking Greg's dick, but Ed didn't want to think about that, pushed the heel of his hand hard into his own erection to try to force his dick to shut up and stop enjoying itself so much. This was for Greg. Right?

"Fuck, Ed," warned Greg but Ed didn't pull off. You saw each incident through to its conclusion; rules were rules. A pulse ran along Greg's cock but the bitter taste of the thick fluid still startled Ed and he just managed to force the swallow. There. Job done.

Sitting up on his haunches, Ed wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cocked his head to one side, watching. "Do you get it?" he asked, finally, when Greg didn't move.

Greg pulled the arm from his face with apparent effort. "Yeah, I do. I really ... that was ... Thanks."

"Hey," shrugged Ed, "we're family. We look out for each other."

"Family," echoed Greg, replacing the arm, but a faint smile played around his lips.

Okay, thought Ed later. So not his smartest decision ever. Trying to help Greg get over the loss of his family by jeopardizing his own. He could try and justify it a million ways from Sunday but he had serious penance to pay. But it was going to be okay, they were brothers now. Kinky brothers who once had sex and then decided never again, but it was all good. Yeah. Job done.


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