FIC - "Starsky & Hutch Never Had to Deal With Water Retention" - CHAPTER TWO
MASTERPOST
~*~ CHAPTER TWO ~*~
A couple days later on a supply stocking trip into town, Dean managed to slip away from his two worry-wart nursemaids and ambled into the nearby used book store. Feeling extremely self-conscious, he perused the health section until he found a tattered copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’. He’d never paid so quickly for a book in his life.
Stamping down on his sense of overwhelming embarrassment, Dean shoved the book under his shirt and tucked it into the back of his jeans. Fuck knows, he did not need Sam catching a glimpse of the title. Then all the questions would start and Dean just didn’t have enough answers on hand to deal with being grilled by his little brother.
For the next week he stayed up late, hidden in his room, and read the book back to front. Three times.
A hunt popped up a couple states over and Sam was raring to go. Dean’s stomach problems (he refused to call it morning sickness) had calmed down somewhat, but he was still leery of travel. If this was … what he thought it was … if he was really … well … he just couldn’t jeopardize it with a hunt right now, could he? With a clear conscious? Dean had a strange tendency to get thrown into walls on hunts. He’s pretty sure that wouldn’t be good for the … the thing.
Which he was still refusing to name outright.
In the end he pretty much kicked Sam and Bobby out of the house to take care of the issue. It would give him a couple days of peace to come to terms with some things on his own. They’d only been gone for a matter of hours when Dean made his first trip into town. Stopping off at the local thrift store first, he found several pairs of soft, threadbare sweatpants. Jeans were starting to become annoyingly uncomfortable and irritating.
The next stop was the pharmacy. He managed to sweet talk the counter girl into helping him pick out a shit ton of prenatal vitamins and more herbal supplements than he’d ever seen in his life. Deflecting as many queries about the mother-to-be as he could by asking dozens of questions regarding side effects and proper dosage.
By the time Dean got back to the house his feet and lower back were aching and he’d already received two calls from Sam checking in on him. He had to answer a couple of Bobby’s phones a little while later. One call was on the FBI line, which meant that Sam and Bobby were already delving into the hunt investigation.
That night before bed, Dean stripped down to nothing and stood in front of the full length mirror in Bobby’s room. He’d double checked with the calendar downstairs in the kitchen, and this week would be two months since the Bruja shoved her nasty mitt into his body. Turning to view his profile in the reflection, he let out a heavy sigh. There was a teeny tiny little pooch of belly where there hadn’t been one previously.
It probably wouldn’t be noticeable yet to anyone but Dean himself, but he knew his body … and this hadn’t been there before. He carefully ran his palm over the curve. The bump was firmer than he’d figured it would be. The taste of blood on his lips was a sudden shock. Glancing up to his own face in the mirror, Dean realized he’d chewed his bottom lip into a mess … and there were tears gathering in his eyes.
This was real.
This was really happening.
And he had to figure out a way to tell Sam.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Sam and Bobby walked in the door four days later, Dean was curled up on the couch in sweats and a t-shirt, having just finished devouring a whole bag of Oreo cookies. His hair was dirty and sticking up at all angles, and he hadn’t shaved since they’d left. They gave him an odd look or two before dumping their gear and filling him in on the hunt. He listened with half an ear, and probably a blank gaze.
“Dean? Are you … okay?”
Sam’s voice made him jump a little. Dean had been concentrating hard on his little brother’s features and wondering if any of them would be passed on to the … the … fuck. He still couldn’t even say the word. Which was going to make the conversation he was about to initiate a little difficult.
“Sam … I need to … tell you something.”
The younger Winchester immediately plopped down on the couch by Dean’s feet. His ‘freak-out-worry’ expression turned on with full force. Bobby ambled into the room and pulled up a chair next to them. Dean shifted his gaze nervously back and forth between the two men several times trying to steel his nerves. After a couple more moments of silence, Sam tentatively reached his hand out to rest on his older brother’s knee.
“Dean-”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
The instant silence in the room was deafening. Sam had the most hysterically shocked look on his face, that any other time would have set Dean to fits, but nothing was really funny about the current situation. Bobby’s jaw had actually dropped open for the span of several seconds before he snapped it closed and cleared his throat.
“Dean … son … I’m pretty sure you’re past the age that we need to talk about where babies come from-”
Dean growled under his breath before speaking.
“Dammit, Bobby! I wish to fucking GOD that I was joking … but I’m not.”
Sam had finally managed to start firing on all cylinders again, and he gripped Dean’s knee tightly before speaking as calmly as he could manage.
“Why … why do you think you’re … you’re … you know?”
The elder Winchester sighed and sank backwards into the couch, bringing his hands up to rub tiredly at this scruffy face.
“You remember the Bruja in Indiana? That was eating the babies?”
Sam made a small gagging sound deep in his throat, but nodded slowly to his brother’s question.
“Well … while you were still hanging there unconscious like an overstuffed piñata … she … she was working a spell. I couldn’t understand much of what she was saying at the time … but I’m pretty sure, now, that she said something along the lines of devouring a child of heaven and hell.”
Bobby grunted and shot out of his chair towards his desk in the corner of the room. He was instantly rifling through the stack of research they’d conducted about the Bruja that was still piled precariously on his desk. Dean knew the older hunter would still be listening to him as he continued to explain cautiously to Sam.
“She put something in me, Sammy. I didn’t think about it until I started getting so sick in the morning for no reason … and then I was just so fucking tired all the time. Still am. I heard this pregnant woman complaining one day… and it all kind of fell in to place.
I mean… the trail of bodies she was leaving … she had to know hunters would come looking. I think she was hoping, or planning, for us specifically. She knew exactly how to get the drop on us.”
Sam was moving quickly away from freak out to research mode, and had brought his hands up to his face, chewing just slightly on one of his fingernails.
“Yeah, but Dean … why us? I mean-”
“Oh come on, Sammy! Think! Who else on this fucking planet right now would be the perfect representation of Heaven and Hell?”
Bobby clucked his tongue across the room.
“He’s got a point, you know. Not only have you each vacationed at both spots … you were Lucifer’s vessel and Dean was Michael’s. That’s pretty damn close to the bodies of up and down, if you ask me.”
Sam hopped up from the couch and started pacing the room. He ran his fingers through his hair a couple times in nerves, and Dean took the opportunity to stretch out fully on the couch. All the other men’s energy was making him tired just watching them. Sam stopped in the middle of the room and crossed his arms tightly.
“Okay… well … let’s think about what we know of her, right? She was devouring the souls of those infants to extend her life and power …”
Bobby suddenly smacked a hand down on his desk and the Winchesters both jumped. The older hunter walked back towards them, fingers skimming over the words in one of his decaying spell books.
“Got it. Devouring a child of Heaven and Hell would make the magic wielder immortal … and grant a modicum of dominion over demons and angels alike.”
Dean swallowed and closed his eyes.
“Well, damn. It’s a good thing Sammy torched the old bitch then, isn’t it?”
Bobby sighed and closed the book in his hands.
“Alright… so we know why she did it … but the how is the tricky part. Besides which … I’m pretty sure even magical pregnancies require two to tango.”
Dean couldn’t tell if he was suddenly fighting the need to scream, laugh or weep. He listened as Bobby and Sam settled back down into a couple of chairs pulled up to the couch. He fought the urge to smooth his palm over his slightly distended belly. This was the part he was the most uncertain about. Sam’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.
“So … we need to find out who she used to … I mean… who the other donor is? Right?”
Well … here goes nothing.
“Don’t be dense, Sammy.”
The silence in the room caused Dean to finally open his eyes. Both the other men were casting curious glances his way, and he was honestly a bit surprised with all the experience they’d had in the continually fucked up lives of Winchesters … it didn’t even occur to them. Dean licked his dry lips and turned to meet his brother’s gaze dead on.
“She said Heaven and Hell, Sammy. I’m only the representation of one of those things. The vessel of an angel, right? Which means the other half of the kid would have to be taken from the representation of Hell.”
Sam’s face was rapidly draining of color, and Bobby didn’t look much better, tell the truth. The younger Winchester’s voice cracked on his next words.
“Dean … w-what do you…?”
The smile that split Dean’s face was no doubt cold and without humor.
“I mean congrats, little brother … you my baby daddy.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
In retrospect … Dean considered that it may not have been the best idea to be so blunt about the revelation. Sam was pretty fucking heavy, after all, and it wasn’t easy to get him up off the floor and prone on the recently vacated couch. Bobby had a look to his face much like he’d been sucking lemons all day and Dean could totally relate to the sentiment.
By the time Sam came back to the living a couple hours later, Dean was half way through a bag of peanut M&M’s and Bobby was nose deep into ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’ and asking Dean a myriad of questions. At one point Dean had turned to the older man and grinned.
“You realize this means you’re going to be a Grandpa, right?”
For all the blustering and bitching the man had done at the words, Dean hadn’t missed the little sparkle of delight in the old hunter’s eyes. It was around that time that a grunt had sputtered forth from the laid out Winchester on the couch. Sam was slow to rise, but his gaze was firmly on Dean as he moved.
“I’m tempted to ask if it was all a dream… but considering Bobby’s current reading material … I’m not going to be that lucky, am I?”
Dean answered him with a shrug and jammed another mouthful of candy into his face. Now that he’d confessed everything to Bobby and Sam … a small bit of calm had settled over him. They could help him figure this out. They could help him get through this. The overwhelming fear from the last couple weeks was being slowly washed away. Unconsciously, Dean’s hand smoothed across his belly. Sam’s gaze instantly shot down to follow the motion.
“Are you … are you showing at all?”
Dean froze in place. Sam’s voice had been soft and a little awed. Slowly, Dean nodded his head and silently watched as Sam licked his lips in a nervous tell.
“Can … can I see?”
Beside him, Bobby had stilled from his reading, obviously curious as well. Deliberately cautious with his movements, Dean laid the bag of candy on Bobby’s desk and took his time standing up. He rucked his t-shirt up to the middle of his chest, and just barely pushed the waistband of his sweats below the tiny swell of his belly.
Sam sucked in a quick breath through his teeth. The next instant he was across the room and dropping to his knees in front of Dean. The elder Winchester had to fight hard to keep himself still. His instincts wanted him to jump back and get away from Sam, because this was a really fucking surreal situation already, and having his little brother on his knees before him wasn’t helping matters any. His brain, however, told him that this … this … baby … was Sammy’s too, and he had just as much right to be a part of this as Dean did.
Likely without even realizing he was doing so, Sam’s hands came up and drifted toward the little baby bump. He caught himself at the last second and glanced up to seek permission from Dean. Every heterosexual fiber of Dean’s being was screaming ‘NO!’ and freaking out at Sam’s nearness to his crotch … but he nodded his head anyway.
His younger brother’s giant paws gingerly tracked over the minute curve. It tickled like fucking crazy and Dean inadvertently sucked his stomach in a little at the touch. He was studying every flicker of emotion that crossed Sam’s face as his hands roamed over Dean’s belly.
If Dean had for even a single second in the last weeks considered getting rid of the life growing inside him, the thought was completely washed away at that look of awed wonder on Sam’s face. He could practically hear the gears turning inside Sammy’s brain, knew what his little brother was thinking.
This was something they’d both given up on. After everything. After Jess and Lisa and Ben and Heaven and Hell and the Apocalypse and the Leviathans. The minute hope that either of them might one day be able to settle down and have families of their own had evaporated into the breeze. It had become a far flung dream, never to be realized.
Of course, Dean figured the loss of that chance likely affected Sammy much more than himself. Sam was more the type. Picket fence and two point five kids and the whole lot. Dean always figured he would just be the cool Uncle that showed up now and again to spoil you rotten. Not that Dean hadn’t enjoyed every second of being Ben’s pseudo father. He’d actually loved it far more than he ever thought possible.
He never figured he’d have one of his own, though. And certainly … not like this.
Sam’s hands fell away and he slowly rose to his feet, his gaze eventually moving up to lock with Dean’s. There was something completely unreadable dancing in his eyes that made Dean slightly uncomfortable. Almost like Sam was asking a question, and offering up an answer all at the same time.
They both startled at the sound of Bobby’s voice.
“I hate to break up the love fest here … but we’ve got some serious discussion and planning to do.”
Sam shook his head as if to clear it of an unpleasant thought before responding to the older hunters words.
“What do you mean, Bobby?”
Bobby sighed and motioned for them to sit around his desk.
“Well first … I’ve got someone I can call. He was a doctor before he became a hunter, and I think he could at least get his hands on an ultrasound machine … and maybe give us some advice. But honestly… I’m more worried about Dean.”
A shiver of unease wound itself up Dean’s spine as he heard his brother audibly gulp.
“Worried about what?”
Bobby sighed and took a heavy swig of his whiskey-laced coffee.
“Right… let’s just be fucking blunt here. Dean don’t have the parts that’s needed to have a baby. If the old witch had to shove it straight into his gut to plant it there… chances are she was planning to rip it back out the exact same way. No birth canal … no way of getting it out without cutting him open.”
Nausea gurgled in Dean’s belly. He must have made some small sound of distress, because Sam was shooting worried glances in his direction. Bobby rubbed a weathered hand down his bearded face and took another swig of coffee.
“What I don’t get … is was she really planning on keeping y’all around for nine months until the bun in the oven was finished cookin’? Or was there something else? Plus, if this kid was created out of thin air by magic and a powerful Bruja … who’s to say if it’s even going to be human at all? Not to mention that fact that y’all are brothers … so the tykes basically gonna be a potentially messed up garble of DNA. Oh! And let’s not forget that technically Dean and Sam Winchester have been dead for years … so if this all goes balls up … how the hell are we going to get Dean into a hospital? What with him being a dead pregnant man, for shits sake.”
Dean shot off to the downstairs bathroom to enjoy the surreal experience of tossing up rainbow colored, candy coated puke. From the study he could hear Sam scolding Bobby.
“Maybe too much of a reality check too quickly there, Bobby.”
“Whoopsie?”
Dean rested his head against the cool side of the porcelain bowl and sniffled once. (Though he would never admit it.) This whole thing was so far beyond fucked up he didn’t even know what to think anymore.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The surreal nature of everything just intensified as time continued to pass. The next several weeks saw less morning sickness, for which Dean was very thankful indeed, but more aches and pains and swollen ankles than he was really prepared to deal with.
Bobby’s friend would be stopping by sometime in the next several days with some equipment, and hopefully a hell of a lot of advice, but until then all Dean really felt like doing was eating and sleeping. He would stretch out long and languid on the couch watching hours of daytime television and generally being bored out of his skull.
Bobby was mother-henning so hardcore that Dean was beginning to regret the Grandpa comment. The older man had already cleared out a room upstairs, refinished an antique crib he’d had in the attic, and was working on painting the walls a soft butter yellow. Neither Winchester could remember the last time anything in the Singer household had received a fresh coat of paint. It was disturbing.
Sam kept slipping health food into Dean’s meals and hiding all his stashes of junk food. Alcohol and caffeine had pretty much vanished from the house, and Dean had threatened that if chocolate did too … there would be some epic fucking hell to pay. Admittedly, he was enjoying sending his little brother off on random requests for cravings. One day he was dying for one of those giant pickles in a bag that you find at convenience stores. It had taken Sam three tries to find the damn things, and then he’d only bought one … so naturally Dean had to send him back to purchase several more.
Sometimes he was surprised by how easily Sam was taking all his demands and requests, but then he would get a quick glimpse of the look on his brother’s face whenever the baby bump was exposed. Sam was so fucking excited he obviously could barely contain himself.
It would spike something ugly in Dean’s gut every time he thought about it too hard. Sam was his flesh and blood, one hundred percent parentage sharing, honest to goodness brother for fucks sake. Completely skipping over the whole pregnant man issue, Sam was his brother … and Dean was having his baby. It was like… incest without the actual incest bit … but still felt like incest just the same.
He didn’t talk to Sam or Bobby about it. He was pretty sure they were finding their own methods of coping with (or completely ignoring) the issue. However, they didn’t currently have the emotional where-with-all of a fucking gnat. Apparently he was now capable of crying at a second’s notice. Commercials could do him in. If he had to sit through one more ad about abused animals with Sarah McLaughlin crooning in the background he was going to slit his fucking wrists.
The day before the former doctor was due to arrive, Dean was snoozing on the couch with the white noise of the television murmuring in the background. In his half asleep haze, he heard Sammy walk into the room and pause next to the couch. Then, ever so gently, his head was being raised just enough for his brother to slide under and replace Dean’s pillow with his own lap. For a moment Dean’s brain short circuited on the fact that his head was currently resting in his brother’s crotch, but then Sam’s long fingers slowly started to comb across his scalp. The motion was so soothing that Dean allowed himself to fall back into his almost asleep blissful state.
The pads of Sam’s fingers left tracks of tingling skin in their wake, but there was just the right amount of pressure for the sensation to be pleasurable and not painful. There was a soft whisper of paper, and apparently Sam was reading a book above Dean’s head. Most likely the damn pregnancy book, as the entire household seemed to be of the opinion every word should be memorized. Dean was pretty sure that he dozed off for a few moments, because it seemed like Sam’s fingers just vanished mid stroke.
There was a second of complete stillness before Dean felt the warm pressure of his brother’s hand at his waist. Gingerly and slowly, Sam’s fingers pulled Dean’s shirt further up his chest, exposing the swell of his belly. It was much more prominent now, though not at all round and soft like a woman’s would be. Steeling himself not to react to the inevitable, Dean didn’t even flinch when Sam’s large hand was placed on the curve of his stomach.
The callused fingers and palm smoothed cautiously over the distended surface like it was fragile. Sam’s hand slowly moved lower to cup the curve in his massive mitt. Dean sucked in a quick breath when his brother’s voice rang out soft above him.
“Boy or girl, do you think?”
Dean gave up the pretense of sleep, but refused to open his eyes. The emotions that he just knew were shining in Sam’s gaze at the moment scared him enough without having to actually acknowledge them. He licked his lips once.
“Girl.”
Sam chuckled deep in his throat.
“Why do you think that?”
Carefully Dean shifted his hands above his head and stretched out the entire length of his body, from his fingers straight down to his toes. He held it for a moment, enjoying the pleasant burn, before relaxing and sinking even further into the couch. His arms landed against the large thigh currently employed as Dean’s pillow.
“Because if I’ve learned anything in my lifetime, it’s that God has one fucked up sense of humor … and if there’s one thing a crotchety old man and two beaten and broken hunters will never be able to handle … it’s a frilly, pink, girly princess.”
Sam’s laughter boomed out in the room. Every organ in Dean’s body warmed instantly at the sound. Fucking traitors. His brother’s laugh was not supposed to make him feel all fuzzy and giddy. Ri-goddam-diculous. He knew it was just whatever strange hormones he likely had running through his body, but he admitted (if only to himself) that part of it was just the mere fact that it was Sam. His Sammy.
Since he was four years old Dean had willingly given anything and everything he could to Sam in order to make his little brother happy. Make him smile. Make him stop fighting with Dad. It was probably only natural progression that morphed that devotion into giving away his soul. Giving away his life. He’d do it all over again, of course … in a heartbeat. Didn’t have a choice.
So maybe this was just one more thing that Dean could give Sam. A really fucked up, hopefully not inbred freaky thing, but something really important none the less. Something that Sammy had always really, really wanted. So if Sam wanted to be a dad … if he really wanted to have a family … and Dean just happened to get knocked up by a crusty old she-bitch and her magical, mystical glowy Sammy spunk … so be it.
Maybe it was fate, or some shit.
Dean yawned big and wide, jaw cracking at the movement. Sam chuckled warmly above him and it took Dean a moment to realize that he’d shifted partially sideways on the couch, and was currently snuggling his face right into his brother’s stomach. Sam’s giant, warm hand had stretched across Dean’s side and was rubbing soothing circles into his aching lower back. Dean snorted into Sam’s shirt.
“This is some epically gay domestic shit right here, Sammy.”
Again, Sam’s laughter exploded into the quiet stillness of the room. Dean grinned at the sound and shoved an arm between the couch and his brother’s strong back, effectively hugging Sam’s flat, washboard stomach to Dean’s face. Bastard. On impulse, he nosed the soft white tee Sam was wearing to reveal a small strip of skin, and blew the loudest most obnoxious raspberry he could manage onto his brother’s belly. Sam howled with ticklish glee before softly smacking Dean on the back of the head.
“You are so WEIRD!”
Dean cackled.
“Pot - kettle, Sammy.”
They settled down after that, and Dean quickly fell asleep, warm and content in his brother’s presence.
CHAPTER THREE
~*~ CHAPTER TWO ~*~
A couple days later on a supply stocking trip into town, Dean managed to slip away from his two worry-wart nursemaids and ambled into the nearby used book store. Feeling extremely self-conscious, he perused the health section until he found a tattered copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’. He’d never paid so quickly for a book in his life.
Stamping down on his sense of overwhelming embarrassment, Dean shoved the book under his shirt and tucked it into the back of his jeans. Fuck knows, he did not need Sam catching a glimpse of the title. Then all the questions would start and Dean just didn’t have enough answers on hand to deal with being grilled by his little brother.
For the next week he stayed up late, hidden in his room, and read the book back to front. Three times.
A hunt popped up a couple states over and Sam was raring to go. Dean’s stomach problems (he refused to call it morning sickness) had calmed down somewhat, but he was still leery of travel. If this was … what he thought it was … if he was really … well … he just couldn’t jeopardize it with a hunt right now, could he? With a clear conscious? Dean had a strange tendency to get thrown into walls on hunts. He’s pretty sure that wouldn’t be good for the … the thing.
Which he was still refusing to name outright.
In the end he pretty much kicked Sam and Bobby out of the house to take care of the issue. It would give him a couple days of peace to come to terms with some things on his own. They’d only been gone for a matter of hours when Dean made his first trip into town. Stopping off at the local thrift store first, he found several pairs of soft, threadbare sweatpants. Jeans were starting to become annoyingly uncomfortable and irritating.
The next stop was the pharmacy. He managed to sweet talk the counter girl into helping him pick out a shit ton of prenatal vitamins and more herbal supplements than he’d ever seen in his life. Deflecting as many queries about the mother-to-be as he could by asking dozens of questions regarding side effects and proper dosage.
By the time Dean got back to the house his feet and lower back were aching and he’d already received two calls from Sam checking in on him. He had to answer a couple of Bobby’s phones a little while later. One call was on the FBI line, which meant that Sam and Bobby were already delving into the hunt investigation.
That night before bed, Dean stripped down to nothing and stood in front of the full length mirror in Bobby’s room. He’d double checked with the calendar downstairs in the kitchen, and this week would be two months since the Bruja shoved her nasty mitt into his body. Turning to view his profile in the reflection, he let out a heavy sigh. There was a teeny tiny little pooch of belly where there hadn’t been one previously.
It probably wouldn’t be noticeable yet to anyone but Dean himself, but he knew his body … and this hadn’t been there before. He carefully ran his palm over the curve. The bump was firmer than he’d figured it would be. The taste of blood on his lips was a sudden shock. Glancing up to his own face in the mirror, Dean realized he’d chewed his bottom lip into a mess … and there were tears gathering in his eyes.
This was real.
This was really happening.
And he had to figure out a way to tell Sam.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Sam and Bobby walked in the door four days later, Dean was curled up on the couch in sweats and a t-shirt, having just finished devouring a whole bag of Oreo cookies. His hair was dirty and sticking up at all angles, and he hadn’t shaved since they’d left. They gave him an odd look or two before dumping their gear and filling him in on the hunt. He listened with half an ear, and probably a blank gaze.
“Dean? Are you … okay?”
Sam’s voice made him jump a little. Dean had been concentrating hard on his little brother’s features and wondering if any of them would be passed on to the … the … fuck. He still couldn’t even say the word. Which was going to make the conversation he was about to initiate a little difficult.
“Sam … I need to … tell you something.”
The younger Winchester immediately plopped down on the couch by Dean’s feet. His ‘freak-out-worry’ expression turned on with full force. Bobby ambled into the room and pulled up a chair next to them. Dean shifted his gaze nervously back and forth between the two men several times trying to steel his nerves. After a couple more moments of silence, Sam tentatively reached his hand out to rest on his older brother’s knee.
“Dean-”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
The instant silence in the room was deafening. Sam had the most hysterically shocked look on his face, that any other time would have set Dean to fits, but nothing was really funny about the current situation. Bobby’s jaw had actually dropped open for the span of several seconds before he snapped it closed and cleared his throat.
“Dean … son … I’m pretty sure you’re past the age that we need to talk about where babies come from-”
Dean growled under his breath before speaking.
“Dammit, Bobby! I wish to fucking GOD that I was joking … but I’m not.”
Sam had finally managed to start firing on all cylinders again, and he gripped Dean’s knee tightly before speaking as calmly as he could manage.
“Why … why do you think you’re … you’re … you know?”
The elder Winchester sighed and sank backwards into the couch, bringing his hands up to rub tiredly at this scruffy face.
“You remember the Bruja in Indiana? That was eating the babies?”
Sam made a small gagging sound deep in his throat, but nodded slowly to his brother’s question.
“Well … while you were still hanging there unconscious like an overstuffed piñata … she … she was working a spell. I couldn’t understand much of what she was saying at the time … but I’m pretty sure, now, that she said something along the lines of devouring a child of heaven and hell.”
Bobby grunted and shot out of his chair towards his desk in the corner of the room. He was instantly rifling through the stack of research they’d conducted about the Bruja that was still piled precariously on his desk. Dean knew the older hunter would still be listening to him as he continued to explain cautiously to Sam.
“She put something in me, Sammy. I didn’t think about it until I started getting so sick in the morning for no reason … and then I was just so fucking tired all the time. Still am. I heard this pregnant woman complaining one day… and it all kind of fell in to place.
I mean… the trail of bodies she was leaving … she had to know hunters would come looking. I think she was hoping, or planning, for us specifically. She knew exactly how to get the drop on us.”
Sam was moving quickly away from freak out to research mode, and had brought his hands up to his face, chewing just slightly on one of his fingernails.
“Yeah, but Dean … why us? I mean-”
“Oh come on, Sammy! Think! Who else on this fucking planet right now would be the perfect representation of Heaven and Hell?”
Bobby clucked his tongue across the room.
“He’s got a point, you know. Not only have you each vacationed at both spots … you were Lucifer’s vessel and Dean was Michael’s. That’s pretty damn close to the bodies of up and down, if you ask me.”
Sam hopped up from the couch and started pacing the room. He ran his fingers through his hair a couple times in nerves, and Dean took the opportunity to stretch out fully on the couch. All the other men’s energy was making him tired just watching them. Sam stopped in the middle of the room and crossed his arms tightly.
“Okay… well … let’s think about what we know of her, right? She was devouring the souls of those infants to extend her life and power …”
Bobby suddenly smacked a hand down on his desk and the Winchesters both jumped. The older hunter walked back towards them, fingers skimming over the words in one of his decaying spell books.
“Got it. Devouring a child of Heaven and Hell would make the magic wielder immortal … and grant a modicum of dominion over demons and angels alike.”
Dean swallowed and closed his eyes.
“Well, damn. It’s a good thing Sammy torched the old bitch then, isn’t it?”
Bobby sighed and closed the book in his hands.
“Alright… so we know why she did it … but the how is the tricky part. Besides which … I’m pretty sure even magical pregnancies require two to tango.”
Dean couldn’t tell if he was suddenly fighting the need to scream, laugh or weep. He listened as Bobby and Sam settled back down into a couple of chairs pulled up to the couch. He fought the urge to smooth his palm over his slightly distended belly. This was the part he was the most uncertain about. Sam’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.
“So … we need to find out who she used to … I mean… who the other donor is? Right?”
Well … here goes nothing.
“Don’t be dense, Sammy.”
The silence in the room caused Dean to finally open his eyes. Both the other men were casting curious glances his way, and he was honestly a bit surprised with all the experience they’d had in the continually fucked up lives of Winchesters … it didn’t even occur to them. Dean licked his dry lips and turned to meet his brother’s gaze dead on.
“She said Heaven and Hell, Sammy. I’m only the representation of one of those things. The vessel of an angel, right? Which means the other half of the kid would have to be taken from the representation of Hell.”
Sam’s face was rapidly draining of color, and Bobby didn’t look much better, tell the truth. The younger Winchester’s voice cracked on his next words.
“Dean … w-what do you…?”
The smile that split Dean’s face was no doubt cold and without humor.
“I mean congrats, little brother … you my baby daddy.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
In retrospect … Dean considered that it may not have been the best idea to be so blunt about the revelation. Sam was pretty fucking heavy, after all, and it wasn’t easy to get him up off the floor and prone on the recently vacated couch. Bobby had a look to his face much like he’d been sucking lemons all day and Dean could totally relate to the sentiment.
By the time Sam came back to the living a couple hours later, Dean was half way through a bag of peanut M&M’s and Bobby was nose deep into ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’ and asking Dean a myriad of questions. At one point Dean had turned to the older man and grinned.
“You realize this means you’re going to be a Grandpa, right?”
For all the blustering and bitching the man had done at the words, Dean hadn’t missed the little sparkle of delight in the old hunter’s eyes. It was around that time that a grunt had sputtered forth from the laid out Winchester on the couch. Sam was slow to rise, but his gaze was firmly on Dean as he moved.
“I’m tempted to ask if it was all a dream… but considering Bobby’s current reading material … I’m not going to be that lucky, am I?”
Dean answered him with a shrug and jammed another mouthful of candy into his face. Now that he’d confessed everything to Bobby and Sam … a small bit of calm had settled over him. They could help him figure this out. They could help him get through this. The overwhelming fear from the last couple weeks was being slowly washed away. Unconsciously, Dean’s hand smoothed across his belly. Sam’s gaze instantly shot down to follow the motion.
“Are you … are you showing at all?”
Dean froze in place. Sam’s voice had been soft and a little awed. Slowly, Dean nodded his head and silently watched as Sam licked his lips in a nervous tell.
“Can … can I see?”
Beside him, Bobby had stilled from his reading, obviously curious as well. Deliberately cautious with his movements, Dean laid the bag of candy on Bobby’s desk and took his time standing up. He rucked his t-shirt up to the middle of his chest, and just barely pushed the waistband of his sweats below the tiny swell of his belly.
Sam sucked in a quick breath through his teeth. The next instant he was across the room and dropping to his knees in front of Dean. The elder Winchester had to fight hard to keep himself still. His instincts wanted him to jump back and get away from Sam, because this was a really fucking surreal situation already, and having his little brother on his knees before him wasn’t helping matters any. His brain, however, told him that this … this … baby … was Sammy’s too, and he had just as much right to be a part of this as Dean did.
Likely without even realizing he was doing so, Sam’s hands came up and drifted toward the little baby bump. He caught himself at the last second and glanced up to seek permission from Dean. Every heterosexual fiber of Dean’s being was screaming ‘NO!’ and freaking out at Sam’s nearness to his crotch … but he nodded his head anyway.
His younger brother’s giant paws gingerly tracked over the minute curve. It tickled like fucking crazy and Dean inadvertently sucked his stomach in a little at the touch. He was studying every flicker of emotion that crossed Sam’s face as his hands roamed over Dean’s belly.
If Dean had for even a single second in the last weeks considered getting rid of the life growing inside him, the thought was completely washed away at that look of awed wonder on Sam’s face. He could practically hear the gears turning inside Sammy’s brain, knew what his little brother was thinking.
This was something they’d both given up on. After everything. After Jess and Lisa and Ben and Heaven and Hell and the Apocalypse and the Leviathans. The minute hope that either of them might one day be able to settle down and have families of their own had evaporated into the breeze. It had become a far flung dream, never to be realized.
Of course, Dean figured the loss of that chance likely affected Sammy much more than himself. Sam was more the type. Picket fence and two point five kids and the whole lot. Dean always figured he would just be the cool Uncle that showed up now and again to spoil you rotten. Not that Dean hadn’t enjoyed every second of being Ben’s pseudo father. He’d actually loved it far more than he ever thought possible.
He never figured he’d have one of his own, though. And certainly … not like this.
Sam’s hands fell away and he slowly rose to his feet, his gaze eventually moving up to lock with Dean’s. There was something completely unreadable dancing in his eyes that made Dean slightly uncomfortable. Almost like Sam was asking a question, and offering up an answer all at the same time.
They both startled at the sound of Bobby’s voice.
“I hate to break up the love fest here … but we’ve got some serious discussion and planning to do.”
Sam shook his head as if to clear it of an unpleasant thought before responding to the older hunters words.
“What do you mean, Bobby?”
Bobby sighed and motioned for them to sit around his desk.
“Well first … I’ve got someone I can call. He was a doctor before he became a hunter, and I think he could at least get his hands on an ultrasound machine … and maybe give us some advice. But honestly… I’m more worried about Dean.”
A shiver of unease wound itself up Dean’s spine as he heard his brother audibly gulp.
“Worried about what?”
Bobby sighed and took a heavy swig of his whiskey-laced coffee.
“Right… let’s just be fucking blunt here. Dean don’t have the parts that’s needed to have a baby. If the old witch had to shove it straight into his gut to plant it there… chances are she was planning to rip it back out the exact same way. No birth canal … no way of getting it out without cutting him open.”
Nausea gurgled in Dean’s belly. He must have made some small sound of distress, because Sam was shooting worried glances in his direction. Bobby rubbed a weathered hand down his bearded face and took another swig of coffee.
“What I don’t get … is was she really planning on keeping y’all around for nine months until the bun in the oven was finished cookin’? Or was there something else? Plus, if this kid was created out of thin air by magic and a powerful Bruja … who’s to say if it’s even going to be human at all? Not to mention that fact that y’all are brothers … so the tykes basically gonna be a potentially messed up garble of DNA. Oh! And let’s not forget that technically Dean and Sam Winchester have been dead for years … so if this all goes balls up … how the hell are we going to get Dean into a hospital? What with him being a dead pregnant man, for shits sake.”
Dean shot off to the downstairs bathroom to enjoy the surreal experience of tossing up rainbow colored, candy coated puke. From the study he could hear Sam scolding Bobby.
“Maybe too much of a reality check too quickly there, Bobby.”
“Whoopsie?”
Dean rested his head against the cool side of the porcelain bowl and sniffled once. (Though he would never admit it.) This whole thing was so far beyond fucked up he didn’t even know what to think anymore.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The surreal nature of everything just intensified as time continued to pass. The next several weeks saw less morning sickness, for which Dean was very thankful indeed, but more aches and pains and swollen ankles than he was really prepared to deal with.
Bobby’s friend would be stopping by sometime in the next several days with some equipment, and hopefully a hell of a lot of advice, but until then all Dean really felt like doing was eating and sleeping. He would stretch out long and languid on the couch watching hours of daytime television and generally being bored out of his skull.
Bobby was mother-henning so hardcore that Dean was beginning to regret the Grandpa comment. The older man had already cleared out a room upstairs, refinished an antique crib he’d had in the attic, and was working on painting the walls a soft butter yellow. Neither Winchester could remember the last time anything in the Singer household had received a fresh coat of paint. It was disturbing.
Sam kept slipping health food into Dean’s meals and hiding all his stashes of junk food. Alcohol and caffeine had pretty much vanished from the house, and Dean had threatened that if chocolate did too … there would be some epic fucking hell to pay. Admittedly, he was enjoying sending his little brother off on random requests for cravings. One day he was dying for one of those giant pickles in a bag that you find at convenience stores. It had taken Sam three tries to find the damn things, and then he’d only bought one … so naturally Dean had to send him back to purchase several more.
Sometimes he was surprised by how easily Sam was taking all his demands and requests, but then he would get a quick glimpse of the look on his brother’s face whenever the baby bump was exposed. Sam was so fucking excited he obviously could barely contain himself.
It would spike something ugly in Dean’s gut every time he thought about it too hard. Sam was his flesh and blood, one hundred percent parentage sharing, honest to goodness brother for fucks sake. Completely skipping over the whole pregnant man issue, Sam was his brother … and Dean was having his baby. It was like… incest without the actual incest bit … but still felt like incest just the same.
He didn’t talk to Sam or Bobby about it. He was pretty sure they were finding their own methods of coping with (or completely ignoring) the issue. However, they didn’t currently have the emotional where-with-all of a fucking gnat. Apparently he was now capable of crying at a second’s notice. Commercials could do him in. If he had to sit through one more ad about abused animals with Sarah McLaughlin crooning in the background he was going to slit his fucking wrists.
The day before the former doctor was due to arrive, Dean was snoozing on the couch with the white noise of the television murmuring in the background. In his half asleep haze, he heard Sammy walk into the room and pause next to the couch. Then, ever so gently, his head was being raised just enough for his brother to slide under and replace Dean’s pillow with his own lap. For a moment Dean’s brain short circuited on the fact that his head was currently resting in his brother’s crotch, but then Sam’s long fingers slowly started to comb across his scalp. The motion was so soothing that Dean allowed himself to fall back into his almost asleep blissful state.
The pads of Sam’s fingers left tracks of tingling skin in their wake, but there was just the right amount of pressure for the sensation to be pleasurable and not painful. There was a soft whisper of paper, and apparently Sam was reading a book above Dean’s head. Most likely the damn pregnancy book, as the entire household seemed to be of the opinion every word should be memorized. Dean was pretty sure that he dozed off for a few moments, because it seemed like Sam’s fingers just vanished mid stroke.
There was a second of complete stillness before Dean felt the warm pressure of his brother’s hand at his waist. Gingerly and slowly, Sam’s fingers pulled Dean’s shirt further up his chest, exposing the swell of his belly. It was much more prominent now, though not at all round and soft like a woman’s would be. Steeling himself not to react to the inevitable, Dean didn’t even flinch when Sam’s large hand was placed on the curve of his stomach.
The callused fingers and palm smoothed cautiously over the distended surface like it was fragile. Sam’s hand slowly moved lower to cup the curve in his massive mitt. Dean sucked in a quick breath when his brother’s voice rang out soft above him.
“Boy or girl, do you think?”
Dean gave up the pretense of sleep, but refused to open his eyes. The emotions that he just knew were shining in Sam’s gaze at the moment scared him enough without having to actually acknowledge them. He licked his lips once.
“Girl.”
Sam chuckled deep in his throat.
“Why do you think that?”
Carefully Dean shifted his hands above his head and stretched out the entire length of his body, from his fingers straight down to his toes. He held it for a moment, enjoying the pleasant burn, before relaxing and sinking even further into the couch. His arms landed against the large thigh currently employed as Dean’s pillow.
“Because if I’ve learned anything in my lifetime, it’s that God has one fucked up sense of humor … and if there’s one thing a crotchety old man and two beaten and broken hunters will never be able to handle … it’s a frilly, pink, girly princess.”
Sam’s laughter boomed out in the room. Every organ in Dean’s body warmed instantly at the sound. Fucking traitors. His brother’s laugh was not supposed to make him feel all fuzzy and giddy. Ri-goddam-diculous. He knew it was just whatever strange hormones he likely had running through his body, but he admitted (if only to himself) that part of it was just the mere fact that it was Sam. His Sammy.
Since he was four years old Dean had willingly given anything and everything he could to Sam in order to make his little brother happy. Make him smile. Make him stop fighting with Dad. It was probably only natural progression that morphed that devotion into giving away his soul. Giving away his life. He’d do it all over again, of course … in a heartbeat. Didn’t have a choice.
So maybe this was just one more thing that Dean could give Sam. A really fucked up, hopefully not inbred freaky thing, but something really important none the less. Something that Sammy had always really, really wanted. So if Sam wanted to be a dad … if he really wanted to have a family … and Dean just happened to get knocked up by a crusty old she-bitch and her magical, mystical glowy Sammy spunk … so be it.
Maybe it was fate, or some shit.
Dean yawned big and wide, jaw cracking at the movement. Sam chuckled warmly above him and it took Dean a moment to realize that he’d shifted partially sideways on the couch, and was currently snuggling his face right into his brother’s stomach. Sam’s giant, warm hand had stretched across Dean’s side and was rubbing soothing circles into his aching lower back. Dean snorted into Sam’s shirt.
“This is some epically gay domestic shit right here, Sammy.”
Again, Sam’s laughter exploded into the quiet stillness of the room. Dean grinned at the sound and shoved an arm between the couch and his brother’s strong back, effectively hugging Sam’s flat, washboard stomach to Dean’s face. Bastard. On impulse, he nosed the soft white tee Sam was wearing to reveal a small strip of skin, and blew the loudest most obnoxious raspberry he could manage onto his brother’s belly. Sam howled with ticklish glee before softly smacking Dean on the back of the head.
“You are so WEIRD!”
Dean cackled.
“Pot - kettle, Sammy.”
They settled down after that, and Dean quickly fell asleep, warm and content in his brother’s presence.
CHAPTER THREE