Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: ships_harry
From: kabal42

Title: Brothers in Arms
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Kingsley
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: Mentoring. Cross-generation relation.
Other Warnings/Content: Oral sex. Anal sex.
Word Count: ~3400
Summary/Description: When Dean fought next to Kingsley during the Battle of Hogwarts it was one of those moments that changes history. Not just because the Wizarding World was, well, saved, but for another reason too. Something to do with two men who fight together for a common cause.
Author's Notes: Dear Kinky Wisher! I saw your wish and this little bunny bit me. I hope you like it. Sadly, it didn't want to be about war, but the scene you described from the film where Dean and Kingsley fight side by side is very pivotal for the entire story.
Thank you so much to A. and M. for the beta <3 You were amazing! Any remaining errors are mine alone.


Dean had never thought he'd end up here. That night had made a lasting impression. Sure, he'd seen Mr. Shacklebolt before, but not at all like that. As he was that night they fought together.

'Look out, sir!' Dean's cry had rung over the crash of rubble as it dropped on him, and Kingsley did duck, just in time to avoid the next curse. It flew off out the window and fizzled ineffectually. With a quick series of curses, the Auror took care of the Death Eater who'd somehow got up behind them. He stood, brushed his robe, only managing to spread out some patches of dust, then extended a hand to Dean. 'It's Kingsley.' The dust was in his eyes, in his mouth, tasting of dry plaster and rock, yet he still saw it clear as day. That smile. When Dean had to be entirely honest, that smile had made as much of an impact as the rest of the night.

Part of him had probably wanted to see that smile again. Not just to be worthy of it, but be able to meet it as an equal, see himself reflected in Kingsley's smile as much as he tried to mirror Kingsley. It had been present in several dreams and private moments since then. Had he been imagining something behind that smile? To him, it had felt like recognition, and... something he didn't even dare name in his most private moments.

He'd seen Kingsley's smile again the day the new Auror trainees first met their boss. There, the recognition had been present as well, but a different kind – less intense, less focused on Dean himself. It was nothing more than the mundane realization of having seen someone before. But as Kingsley moved down the line, shaking the hands of each recruit, Dean still felt a growing tension in the pit of his stomach, found it hard to stand still and knew a faint flush was in his cheeks. He doubted anyone else would notice, but he was sure Kingsley would. That thought didn't help. But when Kingsley's hand met his, all nerves calmed. 'Mr. Thomas.' The genuine warmth in his eyes and voice warmed Dean's right back and their handshake held on for a fraction too long. 'Dean, sir. If you don't mind.' That was when he saw it again.

~~~&~~~

'Are you still here, Dean?' Kingsley passed him on the way out, having waved off the lights as he passed them along the hall. 'I thought I was the only one here at this ungodly hour.'

Dean could hardly say that he'd kind of developed this habit of not leaving till after Kingsley had, simply because he wanted to work as hard as him – and have the pleasure of seeing him walk down the hall in that casually confident stride of his. 'Oh, I just wanted to go over this case, sir,' he said, waving to Kingsley with a file he picked up at random. 'Be sure I haven't missed something. I'm still a trainee, after all.' He smiled, trying to stave off any further comment.

Kingsley looked at him, as if through him, and nodded. 'Your dedication is commendable, of course,' he said. 'But really. Get your arse home.' He smiled and Dean felt a jolt of electricity in his body when he recognized the look now in Kingsley's eyes. He swallowed. 'Yes, sir,' he said, sounding terribly croaky to himself, but Kingsley didn't seem to notice.

He leaned over and flicked off Dean's lamp. 'That's an order, young man,' he said, his voice generically kind. Dean was glad the dusk now hid the flush in his cheeks. He stood, grabbed his bag and silently followed Kingsley to the lift.

'Do you still live with your mother?' he asked.

Dean nodded. 'It didn't feel right, leaving. I mean, she does have my step-father and my siblings, but...' He shrugged.

'The war made all of us appreciate our families more,' Kingsley said, his voice quiet and his manner unassuming. It was soothing to be in the presence of. 'Muggle and wizarding alike.' Dean could only nod.

'Ah. Well.' They stepped out of the lift and Dean could hear Kingsley lead in to a goodbye, though there was something reluctant in his voice that made him jump in with the first thing that came to mind. 'Do you live with family too?'

Kingsley blinked, clearly surprised, but Dean stood his ground. Inside he was beating himself up over asking such an inane and transparent question, but he feigned neutrality and mild interest, and took the opportunity to look at Kingsley's handsome features now he had an excuse to.

'Sadly, no,' Kingsley replied, visibly relaxing once the words were out. 'I've never really felt the need to start a family. I regretted it during the war, but...' He waved a hand, dismissively.

'It wasn't exactly a good time to start one either,' Dean said softly. Kingsley's smile warmed again as he nodded and their eyes met. Like that handshake a few years back, it lingered for too long. Dean wasn't quite sure how, but they were standing a lot closer now.

'You are a very bright young man,' Kingsley said. 'Sometimes, you remind me of myself some years ago. Too many years, I guess.'

'Not too many.' Dean jumped in way too fast. 'I mean, you've inspired me. You could never seem old to me.' He was fumbling with the words, felt like sentences were obstacle courses, obscured by the light from Kingsley's brown eyes.

The soft laugh was soothing. 'Well, thank you.' It was a genuine thanks, not a sarcastic or mocking one, to Dean's relief. Kingsley clapped a large hand to Dean's shoulder and squeezed. 'You are a good man.' He stressed the last word. 'And you will go far.' Without another word, he stepped back and Disapparated. Dean stood in the lobby and looked around, cheeks burning and still feeling the heat of Kingsley's hand and breath on his skin.

~~~&~~~

The attack was as unsettling as it were surprising. The rumours of Neo Death Eaters hadn't seemed more than rumours, not really. The few the Aurors had managed to find were rather laughable, using balaclavas and ordinary tattoos rather than masks and functioning Dark Marks. These people, however, were in a different league.

Seven of them ambushed Dean and Kingsley just as they thought they'd mopped up what was a rather simple case of dismantling a booby-trap left from the war. They were in dark robes that shimmered like a desert mirage, dark masks and had been completely silent till the attack.

Spells flew between the sparse trees and heavy shrubbery, flashes of light of every colour whizzed past them them, red stunners, blue, yellow, purple, even a few deadly green. Dean and Kingsley, back to back, fought to fend them off as best they could. They had to duck several, though their counter-curses came in handy as well. One figure dropped, immobilized by Kingsley's petrification spell, then a couple more as Dean caught two with one curse. 'Good one,' Kingsley said, short of breath. He threw a shield up around them, taking advantage of the confusion they'd caused by taking their foes' numbers from seven to four in such a short time.

'This won't hold long,' Kingsley said, reaching back to touch Dean's arm. His touch was warm, Dean noted, even now. 'When it comes down, go for the two by the oak and I'll try for the two by the boulder.' 'Got it,' Dean replied. The shield shimmered. Kingsley counted down. 'Three. Two. One.'

Dean glimpsed the flash of movement that was Kingsley out of the corner of his eye as he jumped forward himself. Cursed one, was close enough to the other to kick his leg. Petrified the first one the second he moved (or she, it really was impossible to tell) and was about to do the same to the second when he felt a stab of pain in his right shoulder. He dropped to his knees. No time to clutch it or faint. Not able to raise his wand. There. A rock. Dean used his left hand to knock the damn thing against the other figure's temple. Then he slumped over in the grass and realized it was dark and quiet around him. No one moved.

Clutching his hurt shoulder, Dean rolled over, careful. Vigilant, even. Mad-Eye Moody's voice rung in his memories. No one was moving. He could see figures on the ground, couldn't make out if one of them was Kingsley or what. He sat up and then, gingerly, stood. His shoulder was starting to work again, even if it hurt when he moved it. Some kind of stunning spell, though he also felt what he suspected was blood. Something new? They had a spell crafter?

Whatever they had, Dean hoped they weren't still here, because he was virtually defenceless right now. Slowly he made his way the thirty or so yards to where he'd last seen anyone else, where he saw dark shapes on the ground, and discovered three people. One of them his mentor. Dean dropped to his knees, felt for a pulse, so relieved when he felt it that he nearly sobbed. Kingsley had become so much more than his boss lately, had allowed Dean to learn directly from him, sought Dean out at times for a chat, had coffee some late evenings when they were the only ones left and it was safe to talk about the fact that people still yelled after Dean in the streets or how Kingsley didn't like visiting his Muggle father (widower after Kingsley's witch mother had died) because a black man in a robe always made people think they were seeing some kind of religious extremist. Kingsley mattered!

Dean's frantic hands opened the top button in Kingsley's robe, rolled him to ease his breathing. Once he was sure nothing was interfering with that, he stood, ignoring the stab in his shoulder, and cast the strongest binding spells known to wizardkind on all the damned Neo Death Eaters.

'Dean.' The voice was strained, but clear and firm. Dean could've yelled in relief, but only turned and knelt by Kingsley again.

'Yes?' One of those large hands was on his knee. Despite himself, he felt something stir in his groin. The shock. He'd read that adrenaline and fear made arousal after easy. Logical even.

'Good man. Are you hurt?'

Dean nodded. 'A little. Something hit my shoulder. I think it's bleeding, but it's not too bad. You?'

'Help me up. I was knocked out, but...' He looked around, satisfied to see a figure near him. 'Yes. I got him in return.' He looked up at Dean who was hesitating. 'It's all right. Trust me. I wouldn't risk sitting up if I wasn't sure it would be safe. I'm no fool. We're no longer in danger, we don't have to hurry. Thanks to you.'

Dean smiled, feeling a rush of relief at those words and finally relaxing his guard a little. He helped Kingsley sit and, after a few minutes, the man stood of his own accord and took a quick survey of the area. Dean took the chance to lean against a tree; the pain in his shoulder was starting to grow again and he felt a bit queasy all of a sudden. Adrenaline wearing off, his mind supplied, and he could almost hear his instructor in healing saying those words.

'Right.' Kingsley waved Dean over as he sent off a Patronus with the information about where to find the bound and incapacitated Neo Death Eaters. 'We are leaving. The others are on their way. And I am not doing the paper work on this one.' His wink made Dean laugh despite the pain. 'Hold on, Dean. I'm taking us.' The squeeze and sickening pull of Apparition and yet Dean felt like the scent of musk and citrus that was Kingsley still hung around them. It made the renewed stab in his shoulder so very worth it.

The flat was cozy. Smaller than Dean had imagined Kingsley's would be, but it also suited him. It was homey. Warm.

'Let me see that shoulder, then.' The words interrupted Dean's survey of the surroundings. He nodded and was led into a smallish bathroom, brightly lit, where Kingsley opened a cupboard and found disinfectant and cotton balls. 'You'll have to take that robe off,' he remarked and Dean did, feeling suddenly stupid he hadn't thought to remove it already and terribly vulnerable at being seen like this.

To his relief and secret disappointment, Kingsley was utterly professional. He cleaned the wound and inspected it. 'My father taught me to always clean a wound before healing it,' he said, voice low and warm, soothing even if the words weren't particularly designed to be. 'My mother agreed that it was in fact prudent, once he'd managed to explain exactly why.'

Dean smiled, imagining a scene where that was relevant. 'I appreciate it,' he said.

'I imagine.' Dean could hear the smile, even though he couldn't see it, and allowed himself to enjoy the care with which Kingsley treated him. 'Hold on. I'm casting the spell now.'

Dean grabbed his discarded robe tight and clenched his teeth against the inevitable sting that followed. It was over fast, but he knew he'd moaned despite his best efforts, though as much from the almost shocking and sudden absence of pain. A pat on his back (a little low? did he imagine that?) signalled the end of the proceedings.

'Don't put that back on.' Kingsley's hand was on his arm. 'It's ruined. Let me find something. And don't move that shoulder around too much.'

- - -

The scent of tea brewing filled the kitchen. Kingsley chatted gently about things of no consequence, seemingly utterly at ease, and Dean didn't hear a word. He stood there wearing nothing but his own boxers and a too-wide shirt that smelled so strongly of Kingsley he could not focus at all.

Kingsley had just put a few pieces of shortbread on a plate and turned towards Dean to ask something Dean wouldn't hear anyway, when Dean kissed him. He wasn't even aware of moving towards Kingsley, but he did and there they were. Kissing. Lips close, pressing against each other and Dean wasn't at all sure he'd done this on his own.

Nor did he know how they made it through to the living room after that or how the struggle to get Kingsley out of his grass-stained robes meant that he was on his knees and faced with the most perfect cock ever in the history of the world. It didn't matter either. It mattered that he was there. That Kingsley was hard, his skin soft, the taste with a tang that somehow matched his scent. He wanted more of it, all of it.

He got it, too. It felt like way too soon when Kingsley came and Dean swallowed, moaning loud enough to nearly miss the sound of Kingsley doing the same. This was the stuff Dean's daydreams had been made of for the past few years, with increasing frequency the last months. And it was even better in reality.

Moments after he was sprawled on Kingsley's sofa, his boxers around his knees, and getting his cock sucked with a passion that dispelled any doubt this might have been a case of him pushing too hard or seducing forcefully. A man who sucked cock like that really wanted it.

- - -

They drank tea on the sofa, huddled under a blanket. Mostly quiet, the wireless provided a soundtrack that gave them both an excuse not to talk. When there was no more tea, Kingsley lead Dean into his bedroom.

Seeing Kingsley undress fully, standing there and looking as comfortable as he did in his office, fully dressed, was a wonder. Dean, who always felt too tall and too lanky, was enveloped in this aura of confidence and was bolstered further by the unabashedly appreciative look he got from Kingsley. Dean couldn't keep his eyes off Kingsley either and kept seeing the differences between them; as visible to his eye as their likeness was to his mind.

'So...' Kingsley's eyes had a glint that was almost dirty. 'What does a strapping, virile young man like you prefer to do in bed?' He lay down, giving Dean an expectant, cheeky look.

Dean laughed, the tension of the moment mostly dissipated by that. He got into bed next to Kingsley, stroked a hand along his side, felt as their bodies seemed to slot against one another. 'Fuck me,' he whispered. Kingsley's groan was deep, throaty, and the kiss was hot and hard as if Kingsley felt he finally had licence to be demanding – or just couldn't hold back any longer.

Dean's fingers tangled in the hair at the back of Kingsley's neck and he moaned into the kiss. He could feel the heavy presence of Kingsley's cock against his thigh and instinctively pressed against it. 'Mm.' He could hear the need in his own voice and wasn't surprised or displeased when Kingsley rolled them over, pinning Dean to the bed.

Kisses along his neck became harder and Dean groaned when Kingsley reached that spot, the one that always made him see stars. There was a hand on his cock, stroking him, and it found its way further back while Kingsley's mouth found a nipple and sucked hard.

Dean felt rather than heard it when Kingsley used a spell for lubrication and he sure as hell felt it when a finger entered him. He clung to Kingsley, nipping at his shoulder, trying to touch as much of him as he could reach. Two fingers. So good, he was on the edge of begging Kingsley to just fuck him already, when they were pulled out and firm hands pushed his legs up.

'Yes. Fuck, yes,' he muttered. His eyes met Kingsley's and then he felt that perfect cock push in, deep. He arched his back, groaning. 'Yessss.'

Kingsley's mouth was on his and the kiss was almost too sweet for this. 'More,' he whispered, 'please.' The response was prompt. Thrusts. Slow. Sliding. Dean could feel every inch, ever fraction of an inch, inside him. So impossibly good.

His groans matched Kingsley's huffs and thrusts, his hands, clutching at Kingsley's shoulders were sliding on slick skin, glowing darkly in the well-lit room. He began to move as much as he could, trying to meet each thrust, once again greedy for Kingsley and not satisfied till he'd had all of him. All he had to give.

'God...' Kingsley's voice was husky, deeper than usual, making Dean's cock jump. 'Ah.' The look he got was full of meaning, too great to be grasped right now. Kingsley brought one of Dean's hands down, and Dean got the idea and closed his fist around his own erection, stroked it, fast. 'Yes. Like that,' Kingsley said, glancing down, taking him in again, feasting his eyes.

The thrusts grew harder, faster, Dean gave up trying to do anything but hang on and follow as Kingsley fucked him like he'd only dreamed of being fucked. It felt like mere seconds before he came, feeling his muscles spasm and clench around Kingsley's cock, making his orgasm even better.

But Kingsley wasn't done. He changed his position and if Dean thought he'd been fucked hard before, he was mistaken. This was hard. And by all that was holy, it was so good! Good enough that when Kingsley came a million years and two seconds later, Dean cried out with him.

When Dean opened his eyes again, the lights were dimmer. They were both sticky, sliding against each other on the soft bed. It didn't matter at all.

'Ah. You haven't passed out.' The jest was present in Kingsley's voice again.

Dean shook his head. 'Takes more than that.' He winked. 'Even if that was quite a lot.'

'But not too much?'

'Not at all. Perfect. Better than I'd imagined.'

'Imagined, eh?'

Dean didn't even flush this time. 'Yes. Imagined.'

'Glad I'm not the only one with an imagination, then.'