majestic_duxk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
majestic_duxk) wrote2014-11-11 05:56 pm
majestic_duxk) wrote2014-11-11 05:56 pm
Entry tags:
- artist: miss_melissa17,
- attribute: humour,
- attribute: mild angst,
- attribute: schmoop,
- challenge: sam/dean minibang,
- character: benny lafitte,
- character: castiel,
- character: dean winchester,
- character: jess,
- character: john winchester,
- character: omc,
- character: sam winchester,
- kink: bottom!dean,
- kink: mpreg,
- kink: no sex,
- kink: schmoop,
- kink: size kink,
- kink: spooning,
- kink: top!sam,
- kink: toppy sam,
- pairing: sam winchester/dean winchester,
- part 1,
- rating: m,
- title: and baby makes three
Fic: And Baby Makes Three
This has been my submission for the Sam/Dean minibang. Many thanks to my artist (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
miss_melissa17 and my beta (tricksterangelgabriel)
Title: And Baby Makes Three
Author:majestic_duxk
Artist:miss_melissa17
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
minor pairings and other characters: fake Sam/Jess, mentioned Benny/OC, mentioned Castiel/Gabriel, John Winchester
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 13000
Warnings: non graphic/implied underage, mpreg, mild angst, bottom Dean, top Sam, mpreg Dean, hunting au set in stanford era, possessive Sam, angry Sam, domestic Dean, coffee shop, book shop, sad Dean, fluff, cuddles, happy end
Summary: Dean didn't know he was a male carrier until he finds himself pregnant the day Sam leaves for Stanford. Although Dean wanted to tell him the truth, and go with him, he loves Sam too much to ruin his life. Having a baby is going to change everything. So he smiles and says he'll be there soon. Instead he runs, settling down in a little town in the middle of nowhere, to build himself a new life. He’s happy enough, working two jobs which indulge his love of pie and new found love of reading, and if he can't quite leave Sam behind yet, that's ok.
Meanwhile Sam is waiting for Dean, waiting for them to start their new life together. Maybe Dean should have asked Sam what he thought?
<http://miss-melissa17.livejournal.com/2946.html">art master post
part 2
--
The double blue stripes signified the change of everything.
It’s no longer Sam and Dean, the two of them. There’s someone else. Dean was pretty sure he was hyperventilating.
Dean had had no idea he was a carrier. If he’d known, Sam wouldn’t have got his cock anywhere near Dean’s ass. At the very least he’d be a lot more careful about fucking Sam! Of course the kid had Super Sperm. If anything, Dean was lucky it was now, not years ago when Sam really was just a kid.
But fuck. What was he supposed to do now? Hands ran protectively over his belly. He’d only gone in for an upset stomach…
Doctor Barnes had asked a few questions and given him an exasperated look and a stick to pee on.
“You do know what to do with this, right?” Dean had huffed in annoyance. Incredibly unprofessional, that’s what she was. Teach him to look up former one night stands. But seriously, if anything really was wrong, he had to be sure it wasn’t supernatural, and that really limited who he could see.
--
Which was how he found himself in the bathroom at the clinic of a former conquest.
Looking at a stick that showed he was pregnant.
To his brother
He kept the hysterical giggle inside, but it was a close thing. Fuck his life!
There was a sharp rap at the door. “Dean?”
So maybe the giggle hadn’t been as internal as he’d thought.
“Dean, are you ok.”
“Yeah. Just… just give me a moment.”
Dean splashed his face with cold water, squared his shoulders, and picked up the offending item. He marched to the door, and opened it. Pamela was there, friendly worry on her face.
There was still one last chance. It wasn’t as if he’d memorised the correct results…
“So, what are the two blue stripes?”
Strong emotion warred on Pamela’s face, but her face eventually fell into soft, professional lines.
“Congrats, Dean! You’re gonna be a mommy!”
--
So here he was. Up the fucking duff to his brother. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t in shock. He fucking well was. He didn’t even know he was a carrier. Wasn’t that something he should know?
“It’s not so simple with carriers, Dean. Women get their period, so you know they’re fertile. Men… men you can’t tell without a test. Oh they are generally pretty,” and here she leered at Dean, “but even that doesn’t hold true. Not all pretty men are carriers, and not all carriers are pretty.”
She shrugged. “Basically you need to get a doctor to check you out. Generally before this point,” she told him with a pointed look. “Still, no use crying over spilt milk! Who’s the baby daddy?”
“Not here,” Dean responded tersely. Okay, so that wasn’t true. Yet. But Dean’d seen the acceptance letter from Stanford. It hurt that Sam hadn’t said anything, but at the same time Dean wasn’t surprised. This was Sammy’s big chance to leave behind the life he hated. And, like it or not, Dean was part of that life. So he’d avoided answering Pamela’s questions (and ignored the sympathetic look in her eye), taken all the information booklets and lied when he said he’d be back for a check-up.
--
He’d driven around after that. Found himself a car park with few lights, and just lay on Baby’s bonnet, staring at the stars. He didn’t think about anything. Certainly not about the future. The changes were too big. They didn’t feel real. And he wasn’t ready to go back the motel and deal with his dad and brother. Dean snorted. There was a relationship getting worse every day. Dean was so sick of being in the middle. Not for much longer though. Dean sighed at the sky. Sammy would be gone soon, although who knew how that would affect John.
He rubbed his tummy softly. (Shit! Gotta watch out for that. That could be a tell…) It was still flat. Probably would be for a while, if the doctor was right. When would he show? Six months? Is that what Pamela said? Casting his mind back, all Dean could remember was humiliation.
With a big sigh he heaved himself up. Couldn’t stay out here forever.
--
The motel room held even less appeal that usual. Dean wasn’t even at the door, and he could hear Sam and John going for it. He rubbed his temples tiredly. He really didn’t feel like playing mediator today, but it was better than the room getting smashed up.
The sound of something breaking hit him as he opened the front door.
Smashed up even more, Dean corrected.
Sam and John were squared off, wearing identical expressions of stubborn anger and frustration. Dean took in the beer on the table, and the Stanford letter in Sam’s hand.
Ah.
“Can we discuss this like adults?” Dean asked tiredly.
John turned on him. “You knew! You fucking knew that your brother was going to leave, and you…”
“Don’t talk to Dean like that!” Sam used his full height to stare down his father. “Dean hasn’t done anything. I didn’t even tell him, he –“
John laughed. “You really think Dean didn’t know.” He gestured towards Dean. “Does he look surprised to you?”
Dean blinked as his family turned and stared at him. His dad’s face was filled with bitter rancour, Sam looked hurt and angry. Dean rubbed his temple again. He really didn’t need this.
“Can we talk about this…”
“I’m leaving tonight, Dean.”
Dean blinked at his brother. Huh? Surely if Sam was just telling them then…
“You walk out that door, don’t bother coming back!”
Sam turned on him. “You think I want to? You think I ever wanted this life? I had no choice dad. You dragged two little kids all around the country, messed ‘em up real bad.” Sam laughed bitterly.
John looked ready to explode. “I did what I thought was best, Sam! When you have kids you’ll…”
Sam interrupted. “Well then, awesome job, dad. We’re fucked for life! Think Dean and I are capable of raising kids after what you did? Fuck, we’d mess ‘em up worse than you!”
Turning on his heel Sam stormed out of the room. Dean blinked. What? That… What…? Sam thought Dean would make a terrible parent? Hadn’t he proved…? Hadn’t he raised Sam…? Hadn’t he…
His inner turmoil was interrupted by his father. “You encouraged this, Dean? This is what you wanted? Your brother to leave?”
Dean didn’t even have time to defend himself before John slammed out of the house. Dean blinked back tears. How was this his fault? And why was he even crying? He never cried.
He gathered his reserves, just as Sam stormed back into the room.
“He’s gone out, Sam.”
Dean said it quietly, hoping to stop Sam’s rage, but it was already too late. “Going to tell me what a bad son I am, Dean. How dad needs me?”
Dean responded tiredly. “Sam, you know we have a job. I can’t…”
“Can’t what? Come with me? He doesn’t need you, Dean. Never needed you. You’re just cannon fodder.”
Well, that was enough.
“Sam. You want out? That’s fine, I knew. It’s no surprise. But don’t you dare talk to me or dad like that! We have a job to do! And not wanting to do it isn’t a good enough reason…”
“Good enough reason to what? To walk away.” Two steps and Sam had pulled Dean roughly into his arms. “You can leave, Dean. Come with me! I have a full ride. We can set up house in Stanford. Get to… get to live the life we’ve always dreamed of!”
Dean shut down at that point. Self-preservation. The life Sam dreamed of had no room for kids, which meant it now had no room for Dean. Dean loved Sam. He had dreamed of their future together. And if kids hadn’t featured… well, dreams were made to crash and burn, he thought bitterly to himself. Dean’s dreams all revolved around Sam, but he couldn’t ruin Sam’s life like that.
“I can’t go Sammy.” Dean held up a hand to stop the flow of disagreement. “Not yet. I can’t leave dad yet. You… you go get set up. Send me your address, your details. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He paused. Lying hurt. And if this was the last time he was going to see Sam, he didn’t want it to be forever painted with anger. “How… how are you getting there? Bus?” Sam gave a slight nod. “Let me drive you. Do we have enough time to get dinner?”
There was no time. But Sam allowed himself to be herded into the car. Dean even allowed himself to be pushed up against the bus shelter while Sammy laid claim to his mouth, tongue demanding and gaining entrance, while big hands gripped his hips. Dean hoped the bruises would never fade.
Dean forced a roll of notes on Sam, who scowled at him. “Dean…”
“Take it, Sammy. College is expensive.” Dean gave an easy grin. “And I won’t be looking after you for a couple of months, so you’ll need it.”
Sam gave him a hard look, but eventually nodded. “If you’re not there by the end of October I’m coming for you.”
With an eye roll and one last kiss Dean put Sam on the bus. He stood there til it was out of sight. Stood there, watching the love of his life leave, never to be seen again.
Snorting, Dean threw himself in the car, angrily wiping away tears. Overdramatic much? Pregnancy hormones must be affecting him already.
--
Dean stayed with his dad for the next month. But it wasn’t working. There was an ache he couldn’t fill up. Sam was gone. Gone for good. Did Dean ever tell him he loved him? He couldn’t remember, but fuck, it didn’t sound like something he would say…
In the past, this would have sent him on an alcohol fuelled binge, with bonus ‘don’t give a fuck about anyone especially myself’ hunting forays, followed by lots of gratuitous sex. But that’s out of the question. Now he had someone else to look after. And while Dean didn’t look pregnant, he knew he was.
Someone was growing in him, totally dependent. And that’s really fucking scary.
Instead of drinking and fucking and killing, he thinks about this baby, and how he is going to raise them. He thinks about his childhood, growing up on the road, slung from motel room to motel room and never a home. Not enough food, no stability, and certainly nothing as extravagant as toys. No way was Dean doing that to his kid.
There was so much uncertainty. Everything was going to change. But the scariest realisation was that Dean already loved this kid with all his heart.
--
John noticed of course. Dean wasn’t as willing to throw himself into the job – into danger - in the same way. He had a little life to protect. That was more important than being some ghosts’ punching bag. (It also made him guiltily reassess his father. How could he have even contemplated raising two little boys on the road, let alone actually doing it?)
--
John really didn’t like the new Dean. He accused him of being lazy, distracted. Not having his head in the hunt, of fucking up, of not trying. What could Dean say? It was true. This wasn’t where he wanted to be, but it’s where he was. Dean wasn’t ready to desert his father. He could still help. Even if he took less risks, he was still a great hunter, and family was important enough to stay in a situation he loathed. At least for now.
That lasted until his dad blew up at him.
--
“What the fuck happened to you, son?”
Dean stared up at John from his current position, flat on his back from where a poltergeist threw him into the wall. Although he’d had enough time to wrap his arms around his body, protecting his stomach, it’d meant he’d dropped his gun.
Which meant John had to help Dean.
--
Not too much, though. John’s gun hadn’t shifted when he shot it. He hadn’t even checked if Dean was ok, although he’d yelled at Dean until he managed to get himself off the floor. He’d limped to the car, and driven himself back to the hotel. John was already there, well into a bottle of whisky.
“You’re a fucking liability.”
It wasn’t like the accusation was entirely unexpected. It still hurt to hear. But it was just the start of his dad’s list. Dean was slow. Uncertain. A laughing stock.
And yep, here it came again.
A liability.
“You’ve changed, Dean. Get your head back in the game. You either shape up, or ship out.”
Dean eyed his father. Maybe it was the hormones, but he felt a small fire of discontent burning in his belly. He doesn’t want to hunt the way dad wants. He doesn’t want to constantly fear for the small life growing inside him.
He doesn’t want to continue with this.
“Guess I’m shipping out then.”
Dean doesn’t know who is more shocked: him or his father. It’s the first time in his life that he’s defied his father. Well, the second. The first being his relationship with Sam, but that was a different sort of defiance… and hopefully one his father would never know about.
So, the first time in his life that he’s openly defied dad.
John wasn’t speechless for long.
“You walk out that door, Dean, you’d better not be coming back.”
What the fuck am I meant to do? Dean thought to himself. Not that there was really much question. He turned on his heel, decision made. He doesn’t want to walk out, but there’s no other choice!
Packing his duffle on automatic, Dean doesn’t even glance around the room: without Sammy it was cold and empty. He won’t miss it.
Less than a minute and he’s back downstairs.
Standing in the door way, he shifts uncomfortably. It doesn’t feel right, just leaving. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Dean’s already said goodbye to Sam, so John is pretty much all the family he’s got left. He knew he’d have to leave everyone behind… Except for you, peanut, he thinks at his kid, hand automatically rising to press against his belly. And that’s all he needs to be sure that this is the right thing to do.
Heaving a sigh he heads back to the kitchen. He can’t leave without a word. It’s the last thing he’ll say to his dad. John sat the table, cleaning the guns. Studiously ignoring Dean.
“Dad?”
Nothing. Taking a deep breath, Dean straightened his spine.
“I didn’t want it to happen like this, dad.”
John tensed at his son’s words. So Dean had planned this? When? For how long? Thinking back, Dean had been off since Sam had left. He hadn’t said anything – that wasn’t Dean’s way – but he’d been getting sloppier and sloppier. John felt angry. He was losing both his boys. Didn’t they understand this was important? That they needed to finish this once and for all?
Dean, however, wasn’t looking at John. His eyes were on his feet as he tried to explain. “Things change, dad. It’s not always what we expect, but, y’know, you gotta roll with the punches. And… and right now I can’t do this.”
He did look up then. John was still cleaning the guns. He felt his guts tighten. So it really was goodbye.
“Stay safe, dad.”
Dean paused. He doesn’t know what else to say. If John would just make some sort of indication…
Silence.
Sadly, Dean turned away, making his way to the front door. Picking up his duffle, he rests his head on the door a moment. He has to do this.
He whispers “Love you, dad,” before squaring his shoulders, and opening the door, marching towards the impala. He doesn’t have a plan. But he’s going to need to come up with one and soon.
He’s a family man now.
--
John paused, placing the gun on the table. He listened as Dean started the car, tracking the sound of tire on gravel until he can’t hear anything else.
“Fuck!”
Pushing back from the table, John jumped to his feet. What the fuck happened? Never, never would he have imagined Dean walking out! And why? Because things had changed? What did that even mean? It must be Sam though. That’s it… John felt himself calm. Dean was heading towards Sam. Sam had turned his back on the hunt, on him and Dean, but Dean had always needed his brother. He’d give it a few weeks, then go check on the boys, see if Dean was ready to come back.
Decision made, John sat and continued cleaning the guns.
--
It had been a long month, and Sam missed Dean like he was missing a limb. Or an organ. Something vital. College… wasn’t quite what he imagined. It’s not that there was anything wrong with it. On the surface it was everything he’d ever dreamed of: intellectual people and mental stimulation. Normality. He was the typical freshman: parties, school, and everything he’d ever dreamed of.
And he hated it.
He hated every fucking minute of it.
Even now, sitting on a couch at some party his roommate had dragged him to, he hated it.
“Come on, Sam!” Brady had begged. “You can’t stop partying in the first month! You’re a fresman. And Jess’ll be there.”
Brady dangled Jess like a carrot before him. Sam had eventually agreed. Not because of Jess (although Brady’s smirk indicated otherwise), but because he couldn’t deal with Brady’s complaints until the next party. He may as well go, because once he got Dean back, he wasn’t sure they’d ever leave his room.
So here he was. Sitting on a couch, surrounded by drunken students. And he didn’t care. He didn’t even -
“…want to be here, huh?”
Sam jumped, spilling his beer down his front, as a voice bellowed in his ear.
“Fuck, Jess!” Sam glared at her, wiping himself off as best he could.
She simply smiled a Cheshire cat grin at him. “You’re looking way too serious for a party, Sam. Now you fit in!”
He considered being angry, but laughed instead. Jess was like that. A genuinely friendly and funny person. If he didn’t have Dean, well… it didn’t really matter, because he did have Dean.
“I’d love to talk.” He yelled at her. “But can’t hear a…”
Her grin turned impish, and grabbing his hand she dragged him through the writhing masses, before stopping at a door he hadn’t even noticed. A quick glance around, and it was open and she was pushing him through.
Shit! Sam thought. Jess was nice but that didn’t mean he wanted to hang in a bedro… patio?
It was a nice little space. A few chairs, a small couch. Minibar and a table. If Jess had been angling for sex, this wasn’t ideal.
“Here.” She threw a dishcloth at him. “Since I got you all wet, the least I can do is help to clean up.”
“Uh. Thanks?”
She grabbed a couple of beers from the minibar, handing one to him before throwing herself down on the couch. He continued to dab at his shirt, a little unsure of what to say. Luckily, Jess had no problems.
“My friends are trying to set me up with you too.”
“Ah.”
“And you’re a nice guy and all Sam… but not my type.”
Even though he wasn’t at all interested, it hurt his pride a little.
“Oh? And what is your type?”
She snorted inelegantly. “I want someone who likes doing things! A shark, not an oyster.” Grinning at Sam’s look she tried again. “How about a tiger, not a pussy cat?”
Sam never really considered how he came across. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. He took a long pull at his beer. A pussy cat, huh? Well, it wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone. And it was better than an oyster.
Sam didn’t want anyone to notice him. He was attempting to blend in with a life he hated. It was unfair, really. Instead of living what was meant to be the dream, he was pining, willing to trade it all in for Dean. He scowled slightly, thinking of his brother. Time was going way too slowly. Why wasn’t it October yet?
Jess’s voice pulled him out of his dark musings.
“So why don’t you want a hot piece of ass like me?”
Sam choked on his beer.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve, he couldn’t believe her cheek. “Excuse me?”
Jess grinned. “So you are listening. I’m not offended. It makes things easier. Just wondering…”
Sam shrugged and answered. “I have someone.”
Jess whistled. “Really? Who’s the lucky girl? Do I know her?”
“Dean. And no. You don’t know him.”
Jess eyed him for a moment. “Really? I’ve never heard of this Dean of yours.” The implication clear: If Jess didn’t know, then no one knew. “If everyone knew you had a partner, you wouldn’t be hit on all the time.” Jess suddenly sat upright. “You don’t talk about him because you’re ashamed to date a guy? Because that’s just dis…”
“Of course that’s not why,” Sam overrode her angrily. “I don’t talk about him because I miss him so fucking much. I miss him enough every fucking day without making it worse by talking about how much I miss him.” That was more than Sam meant to say. He took a deep breath. “I can hold out until he gets here. I knew I’d be here a few months. But I don’t need to talk about it. With anyone,” he added pointedly.
He avoided Jess’s eye. Jess was looking at him thoughtfully. “Huh. Maybe not such a pussy cat.”
Growing weary of the conversation, Sam skulled his beer. “Thanks for the chat, Jess. See you round, yeah?”
Turning on his heel, he stalked towards the door. He didn’t need this shit. Fuck Brady. Fuck the whole…
“Sam! Wait.”
What the hell did she want now? But… Dean had raised him right. He was a gentleman. He stopped, although he didn’t turn around.
“We could help each other.”
Unable to control his snort of laughter, Sam turned to face her. “How?”
Licking her lips nervously, Jess eyed the man in front of her. His body was tensed with rejection.
“I have someone too,” she offered. “They can’t be here right now, and I am getting really sick of helpful friends trying to fill my lonely life. I figure, let’s just pretend. Then people will leave us both alone.”
“That still means I have to spend time with you,” Sam observed wryly.
Ouch. Jess winced. Sam definitely pulled no punches.
“Sure, but I can guarantee it will be more fun than your roommates harassing you. Sam. C’mon,” she wheedled. “We’ll do coffee a couple of times a week. We’ll hang out, but no one else needs to know it’s a study date. It’ll work!”
Sam considered. Then shrugged. Why not if it would get Brady off his back…
“But as soon as Dean gets here, you get dumped.”
A petulant expression crossed Jess’s face. “Why can’t I dump you?”
Sam just laughed. She had a tenacity he could respect.
“I don’t care who dumps who, but fair warning. The minute I see Dean, our romantic association ends.”
He didn’t leave her a chance to come back to that.
“Wow…” Jess breathed at his retreating back. “What a hardass.”
--
Much to Sam’s surprise the next few months passed quickly.
Jess was actually a lot of fun. He found out he was right – under different circumstances they could have got together. As it was he got a fun friend, who kept the rest of his house off his back. And he did the same.
They’d done the required coffee dates, and study group, and Sam had voluntarily gone to the movies, and been her plus one at a friend’s engagement.
It had been good. Until September. When the comments started up.
“I broke up with Ruby. The long distance wasn’t working for us.”
“She said she’d be here. Just like Dean, really. So when’s he s’posed to be here?”
“Ruby didn’t care, but she at least called. Has Dean ever called?”
“You know, we actually work pretty well together. And we’ve both been dumped. You know we could…”
Thank fuck it was October.
Dean should be arriving any time now.
--
Sam knew he was bad company. He’d been getting surlier and surlier as the month progressed.
Jess had tried to tease him out of it, but he could barely tolerate her. She’d finally given up on the heavy handed comments, but he had no time for her games. Where the fuck was Dean? They’d agreed on October. And here it was: the 31st.
And no Dean.
--
Sam’d been staring at his phone all day.
It was now 11.59 and there was no Dean.
The clock ticked over.
--
Dean had been on the road for weeks. Just driving around, trying to figure out what to do. He had wanted to settle somewhere sooner, but he had itchy feet. Vaguely he recognised that he was upset. He’d never had healthy ways of dealing with his emotions. The only one safe for the baby was the one he took: he ignored it. But it wasn’t working so well. Chasing a blank mind had lead him nowhere, and now he had actual real life things to deal with. Like finding somewhere to live. At five months he needed to stop. It was more than half way through his pregnancy, and he and peanut needed a home.
Which is how he found himself in a small town. And it really was, the sign coming into the main street proclaimed “Lindstone. A Small Town.”
He wasn’t intending to stay. He wasn’t even intending to stop. It was just another place on his way to nowhere. But he was starving. Or the peanut was been starving. Which meant Dean needed food, and he’d never been anywhere that didn’t have a diner. Lindstone was no exception. There it was, right on main street. Even if it called itself a café.
Dean walked in on rush hour. There was a cook in the kitchen, and another man behind the counter. Dean had snickered as counter boy’s face had paled, scanning the busy room for an empty table. Dean just waved a hand, ready to wait until a table was clear.
Which took 45 minutes. Fidgeting impatiently, Dean wondered who took that long for lunch? It wasn’t even like he could blame the staff. They’d both worked as hard as they could, bussing tables, taking orders, cooking up a steam. Just, no one had left until there was some invisible sign, and then all the tables cleared at once. The timing was perfect – perfectly terrible – to hear the fearsome growl of Dean’s stomach. The only saving grace was there was only staff present.
Counter boy hid a snicker behind his hand, while the cook came out the kitchen.
“Sound a bit hungry there, brother.”
Dean’s heart lurched: brother. He’d never have a brother again. But with the ease of years of experience, he shook off the heartache.
“Just a bit.” He offered a smirk. “Don’t s’pose there’s anything left after the hoards.”
The chef gave him the once over, and seemed to nod to himself. “Sit down. You look like you could take a load off. I’ll get you some pie – it’s ready – and cook you up a burger.”
Dean couldn’t help the real smile that lit up his face. “My favourites! And I’ll have a coff… I’ll have a…”
He trailed off. He wasn’t sure what to drink. He figured he had so many bad habits, giving up coffee and alcohol was the least he could do. He hadn’t found anything else he liked though.
“I’ll bring you pie, and how about some of the sweet tea? It’s pretty popular round here?”
Dean nodded his thanks. Tea. Fucking tea. He’d turned into a tea drinker! Wouldn’t Sam laugh if he knew.
Sam.
For three months he’d kept thoughts of Sam at bay. It wasn’t worth lying to himself though: that’s what the running had been about. Trying to stay ahead of his thoughts of Sam. But they’d been knocking on his neural pathways for a while, and now they’d caught up with him, well, it didn’t matter where he settled down.
Heaving a sigh, Dean noticed there was pie in front of him. A quick glance showed the cook to still be standing there. It smelt so fucking good. But he was so hungry… there was no way he could eat elegantly…
“Dig in, brother.”
Dean didn’t need another invitation. He was starving, it smelt fine, and tasted…
“Fuck! This is the best pie I’ve had in years!”
The cook had a satisfied look.
“On the house, brother.”
No. Dean couldn’t deal with that anymore.
“Dean.”
He got a quizzical look in response, so he just repeated. “I’m Dean.”
He got a hand in return. “Benny. Now you just eat that pie, Dean,” and yeah, Dean noticed the slight emphasis, “And I’ll be back with your burger and fries. Remember to try the tea,” Benny casually tossed over his shoulder as he worked away.
Counter boy was there with the tea.
“Benny must really like you!”
“Huh?”
Counter boy made a face at him, and yeah, maybe Dean could have swallowed before speaking, but he was fucking starving!
“Benny’s nice to everyone, but not always friendly.”
Dean paused. Fuck. He hoped Benny wasn’t being swayed by his awesome good looks. The delicate scent of beef patties filled the air. Surreptitiously, Dean wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth.
“What’s your name anyway?”
Counter boy blinked at him.
“I can’t keep calling you counter boy!” A sound suspiciously like a chuckle sounded from the kitchen.
“Samandrial.”
Samandrial? That was a freaking mouthful. Samandrial seemed to understand, as he offered, “But I like people to call me Alfie. Ah – Benny!” Samm- Alfie – turned his head towards the kitchen. “I have to go now. Remember I’m away for the weekend too.”
“I know, sugar. I’ll see you next week.”
Dean slowed down, making the pie last until Benny came walking out, a full plate of burger and thick cut fries.
“Oh. My. God.”
A quick glance at Benny’s open smile, and Dean grabbed the burger. The first bite and juices dribbled down his chin. He quickly gathered them on his thumb, and licked. And moaned.
“So fucking good!”
Benny grinned at him.
“So what you doing traveling through Lindstone, bro – cher?”
Dean chewed a moment. He could deal with cher. It didn’t feel like Benny was hitting on him, but Dean was too tired to play games.
“You’re not hitting on me, right?”
The man blinked at him, before throwing back his head and laughing.
“No, no, not at all.”
“It’s just Sam – Alfie,” thank god Samandrial didn’t want to be called Sam! Dean didn’t think he could deal with that, “said you weren’t, uh, friendly to everyone.”
Benny gave him a shrug. “You remind me of someone. So, you just passin’ through?”
Dean looked around. Maybe it was fate that brought him to the best pie and burgers he’d had since he couldn’t remember when.
“Maybe…”
Benny pulled up a chair. “Maybe I can help you out, bro – che - Dean.”
Dean’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “What’s Lindstone like?”
Benny had a lot to say on the matter. And at the end of the conversation, Dean had an apartment to view and an offer to work a morning and lunch rush shift at the diner - café. As Dean was blinking at his good luck, there was the chime of bells and another man entered the shop. Benny looked up, and at his big grin, Dean turned around to look as well.
“Castiel! How are you, brother?”
The man – Castiel, who the hell was naming people in this town? – just nodded.
“I’d like the pastries please.”
“Sure thing, Cas.”
With a smile at Dean, Benny heaved himself up, walking to the counter before he picked up a box. Pausing he glanced at Castiel.
“I thought Gabe picked up the pastries?”
Castiel frowned. “Gabriel has agreed to stop working, for the present. He hasn’t been well, and the doctor told him not to push himself.”
Benny’s fingers drummed the box.
“Benny, could you release my pastries? I don’t want them getting damaged.”
With a slight flush, Benny handed the pastries over.
“So you’d have a job going then?”
Castiel blinked. He hadn’t actually thought that far. His brain had processed a lack of pastries, and his body moved automatically to acquire them.
“Yes.”
Benny’s face split in a grin. “Then it just happens, brother, that Dean here needs a job.”
Dean jumped at his name. What? No… he couldn’t take any more help from the man.
“Benny… no, man. I can’t ask you to do that.”
Castiel turned serious blue eyes on him. “I don’t understand. You didn’t ask him to do anything? However he is correct. I do require assistance.”
“But I work through the lunch shift at Benny’s.” Dean could hear the weakness in his voice. A house and two jobs? He could save up for when Peanut came. It would be hard… but he’d lived life much harder.
Shrugging, Castiel replied, “Then eat lunch after your shift, and when you finish bring the pastries. I own the book shop - Dog Eared Pages a few doors down.” Castiel seemed to think for a minute before adding, “You would get an employee’s discount as well.”
Despite his uncertainty, Dean felt his face brighten. He’d never had a chance to really read. They’d moved around so much, and he’d had so many responsibilities. Books had never been on the list of priorities. No one knew, but in his duffle there was an old, dog eared copy of Slaughterhouse Five. Maybe he could do this.
“Why… why don’t we have a trial? Give it a week, and if it works, I’ll keep on.”
Castiel acquiesced. After establishing that Dean would need a few days to settle into the new house, Castiel retrieved the pastries and left.
Dean eyed Benny. “Pastries?”
With a grin, Benny explained that Castiel’s partner had a sweet tooth, so they’d come to an agreement when Benny first started the café.
Dean licked his lips. “Do you already send over pie?”
--
12.01am. November one.
It was November.
It was fucking November and there was no Dean.
I knew I should have made him come, Sam thought furiously to himself.
Loyalty. It was both Dean’s strength and his weakness. No, his loyalty wasn’t a weakness – his torn loyalty was a weakness. John used Dean. John didn’t appreciate Dean. He sure as hell didn’t love Dean, not the way Sam did. Which was a lucky thing really. Father or not, Sam was sure he would kill anyone who had designs on his brother.
The radio silence should have been a giveaway. Dean never did that. Sam had just been too busy getting through to really put it all together. Dean had left him to his white bread, normal life. And that was all well and good, except that Sam didn’t want this life. This life had a huge Dean shaped hole in it.
The question was what to do. Sam sat on it for a few weeks, hoping that either Dean would come or he’d think of something. But his mind was blank. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – ring John.
And he’d had to deal with life – with studies, and work, and Jess.
They’d even had a… well, not an argument. Sam didn’t care enough for it to be an argument, but a mild disagreement about a Halloween Party. Jess had wanted him to go. And Sam wasn’t going. Either Dean was going to turn up, or he wasn’t. And either way, Sam had no intention of spending his time around drunk wastes of space. Jess had turned up in her nurses’ outfit, shocked when Sam sent her packing. Shocked and pissed off. Sam didn’t know why. Despite Jess’s increasingly obvious advances, Sam had never changed his stance on Dean.
Dean.
Sam had sat in the dark, thinking about Dean. How if he turned up, they would have a very happy reunion in Sam’s bed (followed by some stern words about acceptable behaviour). And if he didn’t? Sam would have to hunt him down for that conversation, have a stern conversation about acceptable behaviour and then have their happy reunion.
That night the hours ticked by, the longer the list of Dean’s infractions got, the longer the list of requirements got, ranging from ‘indicating that you are going to return to your lover when you have no intention’, to ‘required to stay in touch’, to ‘do not make my decisions for me’.
--
By the time morning arrived, Dean hadn’t shown. Jess did. Unhappy, angry and hungover making little comments about fucking everything. He’d let it go, she was upset. Even without Dean, Sam mused, it was time to ‘break up’ with Jess.
She started up on the dating for real, getting progressively bitchier as he refused to entertain the thought.
“So it’s now, what? Middle of November? Where’s your precious Dean?”
She didn’t get the hint. Sam was done.
“I don’t get it, Sam. We are good together. Great even, and all you can do is moon about your…”
“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Jess.” Sam threw his pen down. All their study sessions were now taken up with arguing. “You knew from the start I wasn’t boyfriend material. I already have one!” Sam’s face creased into frown as a new thought crossed his mind. Maybe something had happened to Dean? Maybe it wasn’t Dean just being self-sacrificing?
“That’s right. The mythical Dean, destined to turn up with the pumpkins.” Jess snorted. “Look how that’s worked for you.”
The doorbell rang. Luckily for Jess, as it saved her from the worst of Sam’s tongue.
Wondering, hoping for Dean, Sam marched himself to the front door.
Only to be met with the only person he wanted to see less than Jess.
“What do you want?”
The words were out before he could help himself. They weren’t strong and assertive, the way they were meant to be. Instead they were petulant and childish. And going by his father’s raised eyebrows he thought the same.
“Where’s Dean.”
What?
Sam couldn’t even respond. He saw his shock mirrored on his father’s face, as John realised Sam had no idea.
“Sam?”
“I… Dad, I haven’t seen him or heard from him since the day I left.” Since the day you told me never to come back, he added silently. While part of him wanted to rant and rage at his father, a bigger part knew it might need his help to find Dean.
--
Not that he didn’t get the opportunity to yell. After ushering Jess out of the house with a ‘this is my dad, it’s important, bye’, despite his best intentions Sam turned all his impotent rage on his father.
“What do you mean you haven’t seen him for months? Fuck, dad! Did you kick him out too?”
John snarled back. “His head wasn’t in the game, son. He’d gone soft and it was dangerous for the both of us. I assumed he was missing you, and he came here when he left.” John shrugged. “Thought I’d give him a few months to get sick of you then come and pick him up, ready for the hunt again.”
Sam couldn’t stop the bitch face. “What makes you think he’d get sick of this? Not everyone wants to stay in a different motel every other night, never having a home, or stability, or friends. Fuck! It’s no life for anyone!”
Sam’s rage was old. He was still angry at John. John was still angry at Sam. Nothing had been resolved in their time apart. But still, for his brother’s sake Sam was prepared to put aside their differences and search with his father.
They both wanted to find him. Sam needed to find him.
But his dad stopped him dead. “Stay here. You’re out of condition and a liability. I’ll make sure Dean calls you when I find him.”
Sam couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice. “And what if I find him first? And what if he wants to stay with me? What if he wants to give up hunting. He’s a human being! Not your good little soldier!” By the end Sam was shouting.
John gave him a steady look.
“I’ll get him to call you.”
And he left.
With a cry of rage Sam kicked the kitchen table, ignoring the books that went crashing to the floor. Dean, he thought. Where are you?
part 2
miss_melissa17 and my beta (tricksterangelgabriel)Title: And Baby Makes Three
Author:
majestic_duxkArtist:
miss_melissa17Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
minor pairings and other characters: fake Sam/Jess, mentioned Benny/OC, mentioned Castiel/Gabriel, John Winchester
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 13000
Warnings: non graphic/implied underage, mpreg, mild angst, bottom Dean, top Sam, mpreg Dean, hunting au set in stanford era, possessive Sam, angry Sam, domestic Dean, coffee shop, book shop, sad Dean, fluff, cuddles, happy end
Summary: Dean didn't know he was a male carrier until he finds himself pregnant the day Sam leaves for Stanford. Although Dean wanted to tell him the truth, and go with him, he loves Sam too much to ruin his life. Having a baby is going to change everything. So he smiles and says he'll be there soon. Instead he runs, settling down in a little town in the middle of nowhere, to build himself a new life. He’s happy enough, working two jobs which indulge his love of pie and new found love of reading, and if he can't quite leave Sam behind yet, that's ok.
Meanwhile Sam is waiting for Dean, waiting for them to start their new life together. Maybe Dean should have asked Sam what he thought?
<http://miss-melissa17.livejournal.com/2946.html">art master post
part 2
--
The double blue stripes signified the change of everything.
It’s no longer Sam and Dean, the two of them. There’s someone else. Dean was pretty sure he was hyperventilating.
Dean had had no idea he was a carrier. If he’d known, Sam wouldn’t have got his cock anywhere near Dean’s ass. At the very least he’d be a lot more careful about fucking Sam! Of course the kid had Super Sperm. If anything, Dean was lucky it was now, not years ago when Sam really was just a kid.
But fuck. What was he supposed to do now? Hands ran protectively over his belly. He’d only gone in for an upset stomach…
Doctor Barnes had asked a few questions and given him an exasperated look and a stick to pee on.
“You do know what to do with this, right?” Dean had huffed in annoyance. Incredibly unprofessional, that’s what she was. Teach him to look up former one night stands. But seriously, if anything really was wrong, he had to be sure it wasn’t supernatural, and that really limited who he could see.
--
Which was how he found himself in the bathroom at the clinic of a former conquest.
Looking at a stick that showed he was pregnant.
To his brother
He kept the hysterical giggle inside, but it was a close thing. Fuck his life!
There was a sharp rap at the door. “Dean?”
So maybe the giggle hadn’t been as internal as he’d thought.
“Dean, are you ok.”
“Yeah. Just… just give me a moment.”
Dean splashed his face with cold water, squared his shoulders, and picked up the offending item. He marched to the door, and opened it. Pamela was there, friendly worry on her face.
There was still one last chance. It wasn’t as if he’d memorised the correct results…
“So, what are the two blue stripes?”
Strong emotion warred on Pamela’s face, but her face eventually fell into soft, professional lines.
“Congrats, Dean! You’re gonna be a mommy!”
--
So here he was. Up the fucking duff to his brother. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t in shock. He fucking well was. He didn’t even know he was a carrier. Wasn’t that something he should know?
“It’s not so simple with carriers, Dean. Women get their period, so you know they’re fertile. Men… men you can’t tell without a test. Oh they are generally pretty,” and here she leered at Dean, “but even that doesn’t hold true. Not all pretty men are carriers, and not all carriers are pretty.”
She shrugged. “Basically you need to get a doctor to check you out. Generally before this point,” she told him with a pointed look. “Still, no use crying over spilt milk! Who’s the baby daddy?”
“Not here,” Dean responded tersely. Okay, so that wasn’t true. Yet. But Dean’d seen the acceptance letter from Stanford. It hurt that Sam hadn’t said anything, but at the same time Dean wasn’t surprised. This was Sammy’s big chance to leave behind the life he hated. And, like it or not, Dean was part of that life. So he’d avoided answering Pamela’s questions (and ignored the sympathetic look in her eye), taken all the information booklets and lied when he said he’d be back for a check-up.
--
He’d driven around after that. Found himself a car park with few lights, and just lay on Baby’s bonnet, staring at the stars. He didn’t think about anything. Certainly not about the future. The changes were too big. They didn’t feel real. And he wasn’t ready to go back the motel and deal with his dad and brother. Dean snorted. There was a relationship getting worse every day. Dean was so sick of being in the middle. Not for much longer though. Dean sighed at the sky. Sammy would be gone soon, although who knew how that would affect John.
He rubbed his tummy softly. (Shit! Gotta watch out for that. That could be a tell…) It was still flat. Probably would be for a while, if the doctor was right. When would he show? Six months? Is that what Pamela said? Casting his mind back, all Dean could remember was humiliation.
With a big sigh he heaved himself up. Couldn’t stay out here forever.
--
The motel room held even less appeal that usual. Dean wasn’t even at the door, and he could hear Sam and John going for it. He rubbed his temples tiredly. He really didn’t feel like playing mediator today, but it was better than the room getting smashed up.
The sound of something breaking hit him as he opened the front door.
Smashed up even more, Dean corrected.
Sam and John were squared off, wearing identical expressions of stubborn anger and frustration. Dean took in the beer on the table, and the Stanford letter in Sam’s hand.
Ah.
“Can we discuss this like adults?” Dean asked tiredly.
John turned on him. “You knew! You fucking knew that your brother was going to leave, and you…”
“Don’t talk to Dean like that!” Sam used his full height to stare down his father. “Dean hasn’t done anything. I didn’t even tell him, he –“
John laughed. “You really think Dean didn’t know.” He gestured towards Dean. “Does he look surprised to you?”
Dean blinked as his family turned and stared at him. His dad’s face was filled with bitter rancour, Sam looked hurt and angry. Dean rubbed his temple again. He really didn’t need this.
“Can we talk about this…”
“I’m leaving tonight, Dean.”
Dean blinked at his brother. Huh? Surely if Sam was just telling them then…
“You walk out that door, don’t bother coming back!”
Sam turned on him. “You think I want to? You think I ever wanted this life? I had no choice dad. You dragged two little kids all around the country, messed ‘em up real bad.” Sam laughed bitterly.
John looked ready to explode. “I did what I thought was best, Sam! When you have kids you’ll…”
Sam interrupted. “Well then, awesome job, dad. We’re fucked for life! Think Dean and I are capable of raising kids after what you did? Fuck, we’d mess ‘em up worse than you!”
Turning on his heel Sam stormed out of the room. Dean blinked. What? That… What…? Sam thought Dean would make a terrible parent? Hadn’t he proved…? Hadn’t he raised Sam…? Hadn’t he…
His inner turmoil was interrupted by his father. “You encouraged this, Dean? This is what you wanted? Your brother to leave?”
Dean didn’t even have time to defend himself before John slammed out of the house. Dean blinked back tears. How was this his fault? And why was he even crying? He never cried.
He gathered his reserves, just as Sam stormed back into the room.
“He’s gone out, Sam.”
Dean said it quietly, hoping to stop Sam’s rage, but it was already too late. “Going to tell me what a bad son I am, Dean. How dad needs me?”
Dean responded tiredly. “Sam, you know we have a job. I can’t…”
“Can’t what? Come with me? He doesn’t need you, Dean. Never needed you. You’re just cannon fodder.”
Well, that was enough.
“Sam. You want out? That’s fine, I knew. It’s no surprise. But don’t you dare talk to me or dad like that! We have a job to do! And not wanting to do it isn’t a good enough reason…”
“Good enough reason to what? To walk away.” Two steps and Sam had pulled Dean roughly into his arms. “You can leave, Dean. Come with me! I have a full ride. We can set up house in Stanford. Get to… get to live the life we’ve always dreamed of!”
Dean shut down at that point. Self-preservation. The life Sam dreamed of had no room for kids, which meant it now had no room for Dean. Dean loved Sam. He had dreamed of their future together. And if kids hadn’t featured… well, dreams were made to crash and burn, he thought bitterly to himself. Dean’s dreams all revolved around Sam, but he couldn’t ruin Sam’s life like that.
“I can’t go Sammy.” Dean held up a hand to stop the flow of disagreement. “Not yet. I can’t leave dad yet. You… you go get set up. Send me your address, your details. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He paused. Lying hurt. And if this was the last time he was going to see Sam, he didn’t want it to be forever painted with anger. “How… how are you getting there? Bus?” Sam gave a slight nod. “Let me drive you. Do we have enough time to get dinner?”
There was no time. But Sam allowed himself to be herded into the car. Dean even allowed himself to be pushed up against the bus shelter while Sammy laid claim to his mouth, tongue demanding and gaining entrance, while big hands gripped his hips. Dean hoped the bruises would never fade.
Dean forced a roll of notes on Sam, who scowled at him. “Dean…”
“Take it, Sammy. College is expensive.” Dean gave an easy grin. “And I won’t be looking after you for a couple of months, so you’ll need it.”
Sam gave him a hard look, but eventually nodded. “If you’re not there by the end of October I’m coming for you.”
With an eye roll and one last kiss Dean put Sam on the bus. He stood there til it was out of sight. Stood there, watching the love of his life leave, never to be seen again.
Snorting, Dean threw himself in the car, angrily wiping away tears. Overdramatic much? Pregnancy hormones must be affecting him already.
--
Dean stayed with his dad for the next month. But it wasn’t working. There was an ache he couldn’t fill up. Sam was gone. Gone for good. Did Dean ever tell him he loved him? He couldn’t remember, but fuck, it didn’t sound like something he would say…
In the past, this would have sent him on an alcohol fuelled binge, with bonus ‘don’t give a fuck about anyone especially myself’ hunting forays, followed by lots of gratuitous sex. But that’s out of the question. Now he had someone else to look after. And while Dean didn’t look pregnant, he knew he was.
Someone was growing in him, totally dependent. And that’s really fucking scary.
Instead of drinking and fucking and killing, he thinks about this baby, and how he is going to raise them. He thinks about his childhood, growing up on the road, slung from motel room to motel room and never a home. Not enough food, no stability, and certainly nothing as extravagant as toys. No way was Dean doing that to his kid.
There was so much uncertainty. Everything was going to change. But the scariest realisation was that Dean already loved this kid with all his heart.
--
John noticed of course. Dean wasn’t as willing to throw himself into the job – into danger - in the same way. He had a little life to protect. That was more important than being some ghosts’ punching bag. (It also made him guiltily reassess his father. How could he have even contemplated raising two little boys on the road, let alone actually doing it?)
--
John really didn’t like the new Dean. He accused him of being lazy, distracted. Not having his head in the hunt, of fucking up, of not trying. What could Dean say? It was true. This wasn’t where he wanted to be, but it’s where he was. Dean wasn’t ready to desert his father. He could still help. Even if he took less risks, he was still a great hunter, and family was important enough to stay in a situation he loathed. At least for now.
That lasted until his dad blew up at him.
--
“What the fuck happened to you, son?”
Dean stared up at John from his current position, flat on his back from where a poltergeist threw him into the wall. Although he’d had enough time to wrap his arms around his body, protecting his stomach, it’d meant he’d dropped his gun.
Which meant John had to help Dean.
--
Not too much, though. John’s gun hadn’t shifted when he shot it. He hadn’t even checked if Dean was ok, although he’d yelled at Dean until he managed to get himself off the floor. He’d limped to the car, and driven himself back to the hotel. John was already there, well into a bottle of whisky.
“You’re a fucking liability.”
It wasn’t like the accusation was entirely unexpected. It still hurt to hear. But it was just the start of his dad’s list. Dean was slow. Uncertain. A laughing stock.
And yep, here it came again.
A liability.
“You’ve changed, Dean. Get your head back in the game. You either shape up, or ship out.”
Dean eyed his father. Maybe it was the hormones, but he felt a small fire of discontent burning in his belly. He doesn’t want to hunt the way dad wants. He doesn’t want to constantly fear for the small life growing inside him.
He doesn’t want to continue with this.
“Guess I’m shipping out then.”
Dean doesn’t know who is more shocked: him or his father. It’s the first time in his life that he’s defied his father. Well, the second. The first being his relationship with Sam, but that was a different sort of defiance… and hopefully one his father would never know about.
So, the first time in his life that he’s openly defied dad.
John wasn’t speechless for long.
“You walk out that door, Dean, you’d better not be coming back.”
What the fuck am I meant to do? Dean thought to himself. Not that there was really much question. He turned on his heel, decision made. He doesn’t want to walk out, but there’s no other choice!
Packing his duffle on automatic, Dean doesn’t even glance around the room: without Sammy it was cold and empty. He won’t miss it.
Less than a minute and he’s back downstairs.
Standing in the door way, he shifts uncomfortably. It doesn’t feel right, just leaving. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Dean’s already said goodbye to Sam, so John is pretty much all the family he’s got left. He knew he’d have to leave everyone behind… Except for you, peanut, he thinks at his kid, hand automatically rising to press against his belly. And that’s all he needs to be sure that this is the right thing to do.
Heaving a sigh he heads back to the kitchen. He can’t leave without a word. It’s the last thing he’ll say to his dad. John sat the table, cleaning the guns. Studiously ignoring Dean.
“Dad?”
Nothing. Taking a deep breath, Dean straightened his spine.
“I didn’t want it to happen like this, dad.”
John tensed at his son’s words. So Dean had planned this? When? For how long? Thinking back, Dean had been off since Sam had left. He hadn’t said anything – that wasn’t Dean’s way – but he’d been getting sloppier and sloppier. John felt angry. He was losing both his boys. Didn’t they understand this was important? That they needed to finish this once and for all?
Dean, however, wasn’t looking at John. His eyes were on his feet as he tried to explain. “Things change, dad. It’s not always what we expect, but, y’know, you gotta roll with the punches. And… and right now I can’t do this.”
He did look up then. John was still cleaning the guns. He felt his guts tighten. So it really was goodbye.
“Stay safe, dad.”
Dean paused. He doesn’t know what else to say. If John would just make some sort of indication…
Silence.
Sadly, Dean turned away, making his way to the front door. Picking up his duffle, he rests his head on the door a moment. He has to do this.
He whispers “Love you, dad,” before squaring his shoulders, and opening the door, marching towards the impala. He doesn’t have a plan. But he’s going to need to come up with one and soon.
He’s a family man now.
--
John paused, placing the gun on the table. He listened as Dean started the car, tracking the sound of tire on gravel until he can’t hear anything else.
“Fuck!”
Pushing back from the table, John jumped to his feet. What the fuck happened? Never, never would he have imagined Dean walking out! And why? Because things had changed? What did that even mean? It must be Sam though. That’s it… John felt himself calm. Dean was heading towards Sam. Sam had turned his back on the hunt, on him and Dean, but Dean had always needed his brother. He’d give it a few weeks, then go check on the boys, see if Dean was ready to come back.
Decision made, John sat and continued cleaning the guns.
--
It had been a long month, and Sam missed Dean like he was missing a limb. Or an organ. Something vital. College… wasn’t quite what he imagined. It’s not that there was anything wrong with it. On the surface it was everything he’d ever dreamed of: intellectual people and mental stimulation. Normality. He was the typical freshman: parties, school, and everything he’d ever dreamed of.
And he hated it.
He hated every fucking minute of it.
Even now, sitting on a couch at some party his roommate had dragged him to, he hated it.
“Come on, Sam!” Brady had begged. “You can’t stop partying in the first month! You’re a fresman. And Jess’ll be there.”
Brady dangled Jess like a carrot before him. Sam had eventually agreed. Not because of Jess (although Brady’s smirk indicated otherwise), but because he couldn’t deal with Brady’s complaints until the next party. He may as well go, because once he got Dean back, he wasn’t sure they’d ever leave his room.
So here he was. Sitting on a couch, surrounded by drunken students. And he didn’t care. He didn’t even -
“…want to be here, huh?”
Sam jumped, spilling his beer down his front, as a voice bellowed in his ear.
“Fuck, Jess!” Sam glared at her, wiping himself off as best he could.
She simply smiled a Cheshire cat grin at him. “You’re looking way too serious for a party, Sam. Now you fit in!”
He considered being angry, but laughed instead. Jess was like that. A genuinely friendly and funny person. If he didn’t have Dean, well… it didn’t really matter, because he did have Dean.
“I’d love to talk.” He yelled at her. “But can’t hear a…”
Her grin turned impish, and grabbing his hand she dragged him through the writhing masses, before stopping at a door he hadn’t even noticed. A quick glance around, and it was open and she was pushing him through.
Shit! Sam thought. Jess was nice but that didn’t mean he wanted to hang in a bedro… patio?
It was a nice little space. A few chairs, a small couch. Minibar and a table. If Jess had been angling for sex, this wasn’t ideal.
“Here.” She threw a dishcloth at him. “Since I got you all wet, the least I can do is help to clean up.”
“Uh. Thanks?”
She grabbed a couple of beers from the minibar, handing one to him before throwing herself down on the couch. He continued to dab at his shirt, a little unsure of what to say. Luckily, Jess had no problems.
“My friends are trying to set me up with you too.”
“Ah.”
“And you’re a nice guy and all Sam… but not my type.”
Even though he wasn’t at all interested, it hurt his pride a little.
“Oh? And what is your type?”
She snorted inelegantly. “I want someone who likes doing things! A shark, not an oyster.” Grinning at Sam’s look she tried again. “How about a tiger, not a pussy cat?”
Sam never really considered how he came across. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. He took a long pull at his beer. A pussy cat, huh? Well, it wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone. And it was better than an oyster.
Sam didn’t want anyone to notice him. He was attempting to blend in with a life he hated. It was unfair, really. Instead of living what was meant to be the dream, he was pining, willing to trade it all in for Dean. He scowled slightly, thinking of his brother. Time was going way too slowly. Why wasn’t it October yet?
Jess’s voice pulled him out of his dark musings.
“So why don’t you want a hot piece of ass like me?”
Sam choked on his beer.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve, he couldn’t believe her cheek. “Excuse me?”
Jess grinned. “So you are listening. I’m not offended. It makes things easier. Just wondering…”
Sam shrugged and answered. “I have someone.”
Jess whistled. “Really? Who’s the lucky girl? Do I know her?”
“Dean. And no. You don’t know him.”
Jess eyed him for a moment. “Really? I’ve never heard of this Dean of yours.” The implication clear: If Jess didn’t know, then no one knew. “If everyone knew you had a partner, you wouldn’t be hit on all the time.” Jess suddenly sat upright. “You don’t talk about him because you’re ashamed to date a guy? Because that’s just dis…”
“Of course that’s not why,” Sam overrode her angrily. “I don’t talk about him because I miss him so fucking much. I miss him enough every fucking day without making it worse by talking about how much I miss him.” That was more than Sam meant to say. He took a deep breath. “I can hold out until he gets here. I knew I’d be here a few months. But I don’t need to talk about it. With anyone,” he added pointedly.
He avoided Jess’s eye. Jess was looking at him thoughtfully. “Huh. Maybe not such a pussy cat.”
Growing weary of the conversation, Sam skulled his beer. “Thanks for the chat, Jess. See you round, yeah?”
Turning on his heel, he stalked towards the door. He didn’t need this shit. Fuck Brady. Fuck the whole…
“Sam! Wait.”
What the hell did she want now? But… Dean had raised him right. He was a gentleman. He stopped, although he didn’t turn around.
“We could help each other.”
Unable to control his snort of laughter, Sam turned to face her. “How?”
Licking her lips nervously, Jess eyed the man in front of her. His body was tensed with rejection.
“I have someone too,” she offered. “They can’t be here right now, and I am getting really sick of helpful friends trying to fill my lonely life. I figure, let’s just pretend. Then people will leave us both alone.”
“That still means I have to spend time with you,” Sam observed wryly.
Ouch. Jess winced. Sam definitely pulled no punches.
“Sure, but I can guarantee it will be more fun than your roommates harassing you. Sam. C’mon,” she wheedled. “We’ll do coffee a couple of times a week. We’ll hang out, but no one else needs to know it’s a study date. It’ll work!”
Sam considered. Then shrugged. Why not if it would get Brady off his back…
“But as soon as Dean gets here, you get dumped.”
A petulant expression crossed Jess’s face. “Why can’t I dump you?”
Sam just laughed. She had a tenacity he could respect.
“I don’t care who dumps who, but fair warning. The minute I see Dean, our romantic association ends.”
He didn’t leave her a chance to come back to that.
“Wow…” Jess breathed at his retreating back. “What a hardass.”
--
Much to Sam’s surprise the next few months passed quickly.
Jess was actually a lot of fun. He found out he was right – under different circumstances they could have got together. As it was he got a fun friend, who kept the rest of his house off his back. And he did the same.
They’d done the required coffee dates, and study group, and Sam had voluntarily gone to the movies, and been her plus one at a friend’s engagement.
It had been good. Until September. When the comments started up.
“I broke up with Ruby. The long distance wasn’t working for us.”
“She said she’d be here. Just like Dean, really. So when’s he s’posed to be here?”
“Ruby didn’t care, but she at least called. Has Dean ever called?”
“You know, we actually work pretty well together. And we’ve both been dumped. You know we could…”
Thank fuck it was October.
Dean should be arriving any time now.
--
Sam knew he was bad company. He’d been getting surlier and surlier as the month progressed.
Jess had tried to tease him out of it, but he could barely tolerate her. She’d finally given up on the heavy handed comments, but he had no time for her games. Where the fuck was Dean? They’d agreed on October. And here it was: the 31st.
And no Dean.
--
Sam’d been staring at his phone all day.
It was now 11.59 and there was no Dean.
The clock ticked over.
--
Dean had been on the road for weeks. Just driving around, trying to figure out what to do. He had wanted to settle somewhere sooner, but he had itchy feet. Vaguely he recognised that he was upset. He’d never had healthy ways of dealing with his emotions. The only one safe for the baby was the one he took: he ignored it. But it wasn’t working so well. Chasing a blank mind had lead him nowhere, and now he had actual real life things to deal with. Like finding somewhere to live. At five months he needed to stop. It was more than half way through his pregnancy, and he and peanut needed a home.
Which is how he found himself in a small town. And it really was, the sign coming into the main street proclaimed “Lindstone. A Small Town.”
He wasn’t intending to stay. He wasn’t even intending to stop. It was just another place on his way to nowhere. But he was starving. Or the peanut was been starving. Which meant Dean needed food, and he’d never been anywhere that didn’t have a diner. Lindstone was no exception. There it was, right on main street. Even if it called itself a café.
Dean walked in on rush hour. There was a cook in the kitchen, and another man behind the counter. Dean had snickered as counter boy’s face had paled, scanning the busy room for an empty table. Dean just waved a hand, ready to wait until a table was clear.
Which took 45 minutes. Fidgeting impatiently, Dean wondered who took that long for lunch? It wasn’t even like he could blame the staff. They’d both worked as hard as they could, bussing tables, taking orders, cooking up a steam. Just, no one had left until there was some invisible sign, and then all the tables cleared at once. The timing was perfect – perfectly terrible – to hear the fearsome growl of Dean’s stomach. The only saving grace was there was only staff present.
Counter boy hid a snicker behind his hand, while the cook came out the kitchen.
“Sound a bit hungry there, brother.”
Dean’s heart lurched: brother. He’d never have a brother again. But with the ease of years of experience, he shook off the heartache.
“Just a bit.” He offered a smirk. “Don’t s’pose there’s anything left after the hoards.”
The chef gave him the once over, and seemed to nod to himself. “Sit down. You look like you could take a load off. I’ll get you some pie – it’s ready – and cook you up a burger.”
Dean couldn’t help the real smile that lit up his face. “My favourites! And I’ll have a coff… I’ll have a…”
He trailed off. He wasn’t sure what to drink. He figured he had so many bad habits, giving up coffee and alcohol was the least he could do. He hadn’t found anything else he liked though.
“I’ll bring you pie, and how about some of the sweet tea? It’s pretty popular round here?”
Dean nodded his thanks. Tea. Fucking tea. He’d turned into a tea drinker! Wouldn’t Sam laugh if he knew.
Sam.
For three months he’d kept thoughts of Sam at bay. It wasn’t worth lying to himself though: that’s what the running had been about. Trying to stay ahead of his thoughts of Sam. But they’d been knocking on his neural pathways for a while, and now they’d caught up with him, well, it didn’t matter where he settled down.
Heaving a sigh, Dean noticed there was pie in front of him. A quick glance showed the cook to still be standing there. It smelt so fucking good. But he was so hungry… there was no way he could eat elegantly…
“Dig in, brother.”
Dean didn’t need another invitation. He was starving, it smelt fine, and tasted…
“Fuck! This is the best pie I’ve had in years!”
The cook had a satisfied look.
“On the house, brother.”
No. Dean couldn’t deal with that anymore.
“Dean.”
He got a quizzical look in response, so he just repeated. “I’m Dean.”
He got a hand in return. “Benny. Now you just eat that pie, Dean,” and yeah, Dean noticed the slight emphasis, “And I’ll be back with your burger and fries. Remember to try the tea,” Benny casually tossed over his shoulder as he worked away.
Counter boy was there with the tea.
“Benny must really like you!”
“Huh?”
Counter boy made a face at him, and yeah, maybe Dean could have swallowed before speaking, but he was fucking starving!
“Benny’s nice to everyone, but not always friendly.”
Dean paused. Fuck. He hoped Benny wasn’t being swayed by his awesome good looks. The delicate scent of beef patties filled the air. Surreptitiously, Dean wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth.
“What’s your name anyway?”
Counter boy blinked at him.
“I can’t keep calling you counter boy!” A sound suspiciously like a chuckle sounded from the kitchen.
“Samandrial.”
Samandrial? That was a freaking mouthful. Samandrial seemed to understand, as he offered, “But I like people to call me Alfie. Ah – Benny!” Samm- Alfie – turned his head towards the kitchen. “I have to go now. Remember I’m away for the weekend too.”
“I know, sugar. I’ll see you next week.”
Dean slowed down, making the pie last until Benny came walking out, a full plate of burger and thick cut fries.
“Oh. My. God.”
A quick glance at Benny’s open smile, and Dean grabbed the burger. The first bite and juices dribbled down his chin. He quickly gathered them on his thumb, and licked. And moaned.
“So fucking good!”
Benny grinned at him.
“So what you doing traveling through Lindstone, bro – cher?”
Dean chewed a moment. He could deal with cher. It didn’t feel like Benny was hitting on him, but Dean was too tired to play games.
“You’re not hitting on me, right?”
The man blinked at him, before throwing back his head and laughing.
“No, no, not at all.”
“It’s just Sam – Alfie,” thank god Samandrial didn’t want to be called Sam! Dean didn’t think he could deal with that, “said you weren’t, uh, friendly to everyone.”
Benny gave him a shrug. “You remind me of someone. So, you just passin’ through?”
Dean looked around. Maybe it was fate that brought him to the best pie and burgers he’d had since he couldn’t remember when.
“Maybe…”
Benny pulled up a chair. “Maybe I can help you out, bro – che - Dean.”
Dean’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “What’s Lindstone like?”
Benny had a lot to say on the matter. And at the end of the conversation, Dean had an apartment to view and an offer to work a morning and lunch rush shift at the diner - café. As Dean was blinking at his good luck, there was the chime of bells and another man entered the shop. Benny looked up, and at his big grin, Dean turned around to look as well.
“Castiel! How are you, brother?”
The man – Castiel, who the hell was naming people in this town? – just nodded.
“I’d like the pastries please.”
“Sure thing, Cas.”
With a smile at Dean, Benny heaved himself up, walking to the counter before he picked up a box. Pausing he glanced at Castiel.
“I thought Gabe picked up the pastries?”
Castiel frowned. “Gabriel has agreed to stop working, for the present. He hasn’t been well, and the doctor told him not to push himself.”
Benny’s fingers drummed the box.
“Benny, could you release my pastries? I don’t want them getting damaged.”
With a slight flush, Benny handed the pastries over.
“So you’d have a job going then?”
Castiel blinked. He hadn’t actually thought that far. His brain had processed a lack of pastries, and his body moved automatically to acquire them.
“Yes.”
Benny’s face split in a grin. “Then it just happens, brother, that Dean here needs a job.”
Dean jumped at his name. What? No… he couldn’t take any more help from the man.
“Benny… no, man. I can’t ask you to do that.”
Castiel turned serious blue eyes on him. “I don’t understand. You didn’t ask him to do anything? However he is correct. I do require assistance.”
“But I work through the lunch shift at Benny’s.” Dean could hear the weakness in his voice. A house and two jobs? He could save up for when Peanut came. It would be hard… but he’d lived life much harder.
Shrugging, Castiel replied, “Then eat lunch after your shift, and when you finish bring the pastries. I own the book shop - Dog Eared Pages a few doors down.” Castiel seemed to think for a minute before adding, “You would get an employee’s discount as well.”
Despite his uncertainty, Dean felt his face brighten. He’d never had a chance to really read. They’d moved around so much, and he’d had so many responsibilities. Books had never been on the list of priorities. No one knew, but in his duffle there was an old, dog eared copy of Slaughterhouse Five. Maybe he could do this.
“Why… why don’t we have a trial? Give it a week, and if it works, I’ll keep on.”
Castiel acquiesced. After establishing that Dean would need a few days to settle into the new house, Castiel retrieved the pastries and left.
Dean eyed Benny. “Pastries?”
With a grin, Benny explained that Castiel’s partner had a sweet tooth, so they’d come to an agreement when Benny first started the café.
Dean licked his lips. “Do you already send over pie?”
--
12.01am. November one.
It was November.
It was fucking November and there was no Dean.
I knew I should have made him come, Sam thought furiously to himself.
Loyalty. It was both Dean’s strength and his weakness. No, his loyalty wasn’t a weakness – his torn loyalty was a weakness. John used Dean. John didn’t appreciate Dean. He sure as hell didn’t love Dean, not the way Sam did. Which was a lucky thing really. Father or not, Sam was sure he would kill anyone who had designs on his brother.
The radio silence should have been a giveaway. Dean never did that. Sam had just been too busy getting through to really put it all together. Dean had left him to his white bread, normal life. And that was all well and good, except that Sam didn’t want this life. This life had a huge Dean shaped hole in it.
The question was what to do. Sam sat on it for a few weeks, hoping that either Dean would come or he’d think of something. But his mind was blank. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – ring John.
And he’d had to deal with life – with studies, and work, and Jess.
They’d even had a… well, not an argument. Sam didn’t care enough for it to be an argument, but a mild disagreement about a Halloween Party. Jess had wanted him to go. And Sam wasn’t going. Either Dean was going to turn up, or he wasn’t. And either way, Sam had no intention of spending his time around drunk wastes of space. Jess had turned up in her nurses’ outfit, shocked when Sam sent her packing. Shocked and pissed off. Sam didn’t know why. Despite Jess’s increasingly obvious advances, Sam had never changed his stance on Dean.
Dean.
Sam had sat in the dark, thinking about Dean. How if he turned up, they would have a very happy reunion in Sam’s bed (followed by some stern words about acceptable behaviour). And if he didn’t? Sam would have to hunt him down for that conversation, have a stern conversation about acceptable behaviour and then have their happy reunion.
That night the hours ticked by, the longer the list of Dean’s infractions got, the longer the list of requirements got, ranging from ‘indicating that you are going to return to your lover when you have no intention’, to ‘required to stay in touch’, to ‘do not make my decisions for me’.
--
By the time morning arrived, Dean hadn’t shown. Jess did. Unhappy, angry and hungover making little comments about fucking everything. He’d let it go, she was upset. Even without Dean, Sam mused, it was time to ‘break up’ with Jess.
She started up on the dating for real, getting progressively bitchier as he refused to entertain the thought.
“So it’s now, what? Middle of November? Where’s your precious Dean?”
She didn’t get the hint. Sam was done.
“I don’t get it, Sam. We are good together. Great even, and all you can do is moon about your…”
“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Jess.” Sam threw his pen down. All their study sessions were now taken up with arguing. “You knew from the start I wasn’t boyfriend material. I already have one!” Sam’s face creased into frown as a new thought crossed his mind. Maybe something had happened to Dean? Maybe it wasn’t Dean just being self-sacrificing?
“That’s right. The mythical Dean, destined to turn up with the pumpkins.” Jess snorted. “Look how that’s worked for you.”
The doorbell rang. Luckily for Jess, as it saved her from the worst of Sam’s tongue.
Wondering, hoping for Dean, Sam marched himself to the front door.
Only to be met with the only person he wanted to see less than Jess.
“What do you want?”
The words were out before he could help himself. They weren’t strong and assertive, the way they were meant to be. Instead they were petulant and childish. And going by his father’s raised eyebrows he thought the same.
“Where’s Dean.”
What?
Sam couldn’t even respond. He saw his shock mirrored on his father’s face, as John realised Sam had no idea.
“Sam?”
“I… Dad, I haven’t seen him or heard from him since the day I left.” Since the day you told me never to come back, he added silently. While part of him wanted to rant and rage at his father, a bigger part knew it might need his help to find Dean.
--
Not that he didn’t get the opportunity to yell. After ushering Jess out of the house with a ‘this is my dad, it’s important, bye’, despite his best intentions Sam turned all his impotent rage on his father.
“What do you mean you haven’t seen him for months? Fuck, dad! Did you kick him out too?”
John snarled back. “His head wasn’t in the game, son. He’d gone soft and it was dangerous for the both of us. I assumed he was missing you, and he came here when he left.” John shrugged. “Thought I’d give him a few months to get sick of you then come and pick him up, ready for the hunt again.”
Sam couldn’t stop the bitch face. “What makes you think he’d get sick of this? Not everyone wants to stay in a different motel every other night, never having a home, or stability, or friends. Fuck! It’s no life for anyone!”
Sam’s rage was old. He was still angry at John. John was still angry at Sam. Nothing had been resolved in their time apart. But still, for his brother’s sake Sam was prepared to put aside their differences and search with his father.
They both wanted to find him. Sam needed to find him.
But his dad stopped him dead. “Stay here. You’re out of condition and a liability. I’ll make sure Dean calls you when I find him.”
Sam couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice. “And what if I find him first? And what if he wants to stay with me? What if he wants to give up hunting. He’s a human being! Not your good little soldier!” By the end Sam was shouting.
John gave him a steady look.
“I’ll get him to call you.”
And he left.
With a cry of rage Sam kicked the kitchen table, ignoring the books that went crashing to the floor. Dean, he thought. Where are you?
part 2
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