FIC - "Starsky & Hutch Never Had to Deal With Water Retention" - CHAPTER FOUR
MASTERPOST
~*~ CHAPTER FOUR ~*~
A couple weeks after the ill-fated visit from Captain Asshole, or Doctor Morgan as Sam liked to correct him, found Dean standing in the kitchen munching on a bag of Doritos he’d been dipping in ranch dressing. (Regardless of Sam’s opinion, Dean was adamant that everything was better dipped in ranch dressing.)
Bobby and the ranch dressing hater were currently buried under mountains of books in the study. The two would sometimes go out on small, nearby hunts, but for the most part Sam had settled into doing research and background checks for hunters already in the field. It suited him pretty well, being as research was always his forte anyway. Dean had taken over the responsibility of answering Bobby’s phones. It was actually a lot of fun and kept him from getting too bored.
He was just about to jab another Dorito into his mouth when something new happened. The weirdest fucking sensation hit him right in the gut. It kind of felt like gas, but like, to the umpteenth degree. Dean froze with the chip halfway to his mouth. The strange sensation happened again, but this time it seemed to roll across his stomach from left to right, and just like that … he knew what it was.
He dropped everything instantly and stumbled out of the kitchen and into the study. The look on his face must have been something to see, because Sam and Bobby immediately jumped to their feet in panic and raced over to him.
“Dean!! What is it? What’s wrong?”
For a second he just stared at his brother with wide, shocked eyes before reaching out his hand and grabbing Sammy by the wrist. Without preamble or explanation, he pulled up his shirt and shoved Sam’s hand against his belly. There was only a moment’s wait before the rolling sensation happened again, this time right across where Sam’s palm was placed. Dean grinned when he felt it.
Sam gasped.
“OH MY GOD!”
Dean chuckled softly.
“She’s movin’, Sammy!”
Bobby damn near squealed in delight (though he would deny it adamantly later) and stepped closer. Dean snagged the older man’s wrist as well and placed his hand right next to Sam’s giant one. They had to wait a couple seconds, but sure enough the movement happened again.
“Well I’ll be goddamned … ain’t that something?”
There was a measure of awe in Bobby’s voice that had Dean choking up a little. The three of them stayed there for almost half an hour before the baby settled down. It was probably one of the most surreal afternoons Dean had spent in his entirely too fucked up life, but in a good way. Each time the baby would move, he would call out to Sam and his brother would rush over to share the experience with him.
For the next several days there was an excited, happy atmosphere permeating through the house. Sam had hung up a calendar on the fridge counting the months and days down to what they approximated would be nine months. Figuring on the date of his magical ‘conception’, Sam’s best guess had Dean at almost five months along and the baby with a possible August due date.
It was all going pretty well, until a random Tuesday during his fifth month. Sam had run into town to get them something to eat that wasn’t a sandwich or boxed dinner, and Bobby was mumbling and cursing into his phone to a hunter chasing a Wendigo in Oregon. Dean was descending the stairs after a nice long nap to grab something to drink in the kitchen.
At this point, he’d gotten used to the movement of the little person hitching a ride in his gut, but this time something different happened. Her little elbow or knee jabbed roughly into what felt like his kidney and an intense spike of pain lanced through his entire body. Dean gasped in shock … and missed the next step on the stairs. He had the momentary presence of mind to shift he weight backwards so that he wouldn’t tumble forward and land on his stomach.
His tailbone cracked hard on the wood step and he scrambled desperately to protect his belly as gravity and momentum tossed him downward until he rolled to a stop at the bottom of the staircase.
“DEAN!”
Bobby was on him as soon as he’d come to a stop.
“DEAN!”
The old man was damn near frantic above him, and Dean really wanted to reassure him that he was fine, but he currently couldn’t convince any oxygen to suck into his lungs. Of course, as luck would have it, that would be the exact moment that Sam walked in the front door not five feet away from them. Dean couldn’t see him, being his eyes were still clenched shut, but he heard the sound of their supper hitting the floor just about the same time his brother’s voice bellowed his name.
“DEAN!! WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT’S GOING ON?”
Bobby grunted, voice broken with worry.
“I don’t know! He just fell down the fucking stairs!”
A desperate keening sound broke from Sam’s lips and warm hands were suddenly smoothing across Dean’s face and skull, presumably searching for a head injury. The air that had been stolen from his lungs finally decided to return and Dean gasped as he sucked in a breath. He opened his eyes and looked up at the two men hovering above him.
“DEAN!”
His little brother looked like he was about two seconds from bursting into tears, or worse, calling an ambulance. So Dean reached out to grip the younger man’s shirt in his fingers.
“M’okay, Sammy … I … I think.”
His back was burning and aching from the fall, but he’d suffered enough broken bones in his lifetime to know that he’d been lucky and missed out on that particular pleasure. He was also pretty sure that he hadn’t cracked his head on anything, and had managed to protect his swollen belly from any of the impact. As if to reassure him, a little elbow or knee took the opportunity to spear right into his bladder and he sucked in a curse.
“What? Dean! What?”
Sam was clutching Dean’s arm like a lifeline. Dean took a deep sigh and tried to push his current calm demeanor into his brother through that connection.
“Little one just jabbed me in the bladder. Lettin’ us know she was okay.”
A brilliant smile broke the dimples free on his brother’s face, and finally Sammy sat back on his haunches and practically deflated into a sag.
“What happened, Dean?”
Dean shifted experimentally and Bobby helped him to slowly sit up. His tailbone flared in pain and he flinched. There was going to be one hell of a bruise on his ass come morning.
“Dunno … I was coming down the stairs, and she moved … but I think she jabbed my kidney or something and it shocked me enough that I missed a step.”
Between Bobby and Sam, they got him hefted up off the floor and over to the couch. Besides his tailbone nothing felt too damaged, and he sighed as he sank into the worn cushions of the couch. Sam immediately went to the bookshelf and snatched up the much abused ‘What To Expect When Your Expecting’ and began flipping through the pages.
“Is that normal?”
Dean sighed.
“I don’t know. Maybe? How the hell would I know, Sammy? Not like I have any experience in this fucking area, is it?”
Sam sighed and collapsed into one of the sitting chairs.
“Not like any of us do. Or even know anyone who does.”
Bobby suddenly stood up straight and smacked himself on the forehead with his palm.
“DAMMIT! I’m so stupid!”
With those words still ringing in the air, he snatched up his cell phone and stormed out of the house. Sam and Dean could only watch him go, and then turn back to meet each other’s gaze shrugging helplessly. Sam went back to the foyer to salvage what he could of their dinner.
Half an hour later Bobby walked back in the door followed closely by Sherriff Jodie Mills.
~*~*~*~*~*~
To say that Sheriff Mills’ reaction to the situation had been … unexpected … would likely be the understatement of the year. If not the decade. First was shock, which was to be expected. Then was denial, solved easily by Dean having to bare his belly and wait for the next movement of the baby. The hysterical laughter that followed kind of blew them all for a loop, though.
Once she’d, quite literally, picked herself up off the floor Mills apologized for her outburst and just mumbled something about divine retribution for all womankind. Which made Dean scoot a couple feet further away from her and snag a nearby bag of M&M’s.
After recovering from her reaction to Dean’s situation, Mills was actually a hell of an asset to have around. She and Bobby and Sam went through nearly every damn page of that fucking pregnancy book, asking Dean questions relentlessly and comparing female pregnancy to male pregnancy.
Sam was apparently going to write a fucking novel on the subject judging by all the notes he was taking. Which made Dean scoff and grouch.
“You think this is actually going to happen to some other poor asshole?”
The younger man just shrugged his shoulders, gave Dean a puppy look, and went back to writing. Dean sighed and stretched out on the couch. Sheriff Mills spent every moment she could at the Singer/Winchester abode from then on out. Dean often wondered if the woman actually worked at all anymore.
Time was kind of strange and fluid after that. Dean knew it was passing, because he watched Sam mark each day off the calendar right before bed every night. But all the moments in between just began to blend together like one long, boring repetitive roller coaster. There would be good days, when Dean felt awesome and excited and there was no pain.
Then there would be bad days. When the growing life inside him would press against his insides, and for several seconds he would be unable to breathe from the agony. They never spoke about it out loud, but Doctor Morgan’s parting words about a male body being unable to carry a pregnancy to term had begun to jab into Dean’s brain just like the little elbows and knees inside him.
He knew from the pictures in the damn book that a woman at seven months along should have a nicely rounded belly, making plenty of room for the tiny body developing inside. Dean’s stomach did have a decidedly noticeable swell. His abdominal definition had disappeared (much to his dismay) but at most, he just looked like a man who had let himself go with too much beer and couch potato time.
His baby bump was a fraction of the images he looked up of women at seven months. Which meant, obviously, that the majority of the kid was developing right smack in the middle of his internal organs, maybe even poking near his chest cavity. Which would explain the lovely shortness of breath he had been experiencing as of late.
Dean woke feeling miserable one morning, and apparently the little spitfire had been playing soccer with his bladder during the night, because he’d pissed himself. He’d pissed himself in bed. He opened his mouth to call out for Sam and was taken by surprise when it morphed into a sob. The next thing he knew, Dean was weeping uncontrollably into his pillow for absolutely no reason he could think of.
Well. Except for the fact that he was pregnant. And a man. And fat. And it fucking sucked. And he’d peed all over himself like a little kid. And he was completely miserable.
So he cried.
It only took a couple minutes until Sam was racing into the room from across the hall, nearly tripping on his pajama bottoms and hair all tussled with sleep. Dean took one look at his brother’s toned abs and started to sob harder. He punched at his pillow a couple times in frustration.
“Dean?”
His brother’s large, warm hands were on his back rubbing calming circles into his skin, and Dean jammed his face into the pillow beneath him and screamed out his rage and dismay. The trembling hands on his back stilled. Sam’s voice was broken when he called out Dean’s name again, but Dean just kept screaming and sobbing until there was just nothing left inside him.
When he finally calmed and came back to his senses, both of Sam’s hands were holding his face and his thumbs were gently smoothing over Dean’s cheeks, wiping away tears. Thick tracks of moisture had mottled Sam’s own skin, and his eyes were red and glassy. Dean shook his head just slightly within his brother’s grasp.
“I … I can’t do this … Sammy … I can’t… I can’t … ”
His voice was sandpaper rough and broken and the words burned his damaged throat. Sam didn’t speak, just shifted until he was gingerly helping Dean off the bed. He steered his older brother into the bathroom they shared and stripped him of his dirty sweats, tossing them into the hamper in the corner. Sam turned on the tap, warmed the water temperature, and then soaked a wash cloth. Wringing most of the water back out, he handed the rag to Dean and then slipped out the door. All without saying a word.
Refusing to look at himself in the mirror, Dean washed his face with the warm cloth, and quickly ran it over his body concentrating on the areas previously damp from his pants. Sam stepped back into the room with a clean pair of Dean’s sweats and a giant threadbare red t-shirt that was actually Sam’s. He held the pants out for Dean to step into and pulled them carefully up his legs to his bulging waist. Then he put the shirt over Dean’s head and helped him get his arms through the sleeves.
Part of Dean was rebelling at everything that was happening. He didn’t need to be coddled and babied. Especially not by his little brother. Another part of him, however … the louder part, was just craving some human fucking contact. It was the part that didn’t balk at all when Sam took his hand at led him back to his brother’s bedroom to lie down on the clean mattress. It was the part that didn’t even squirm in discomfort when Sam crawled in bed after him and tucked his body close around Dean’s. It was the part that really sort of liked when Sam snaked an arm around him to rest his hand on the swell of his belly, and then whispered softly in his ear.
“You can do this, Dean. I know you can.”
Dean slept like the contented dead for the rest of the night.
The sound of Bobby greeting Sheriff Mills downstairs finally woke Dean the next morning. He was disoriented for a few moments until he remembered the last night and that he was currently in Sam’s bed instead of his own. The very next thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in Sam’s bed alone.
His brother was completely plastered against him. Spooned up behind him, with his arms wrapped tightly around Dean’s chest and one long leg shoved between his. Warm puffs of breath were tickling Dean’s neck where Sam was apparently snugged up behind him on the pillow.
Huh. Awkward.
He closed his eyes again and debated the easiest way to extract himself from the situation. It’s not like he wasn’t used to Sam turning Dean into his personal teddy bear … but that had been years ago, when Sam was still little and had nightmares at night. They’d actually shared a bed up until Sam split for college. Unless Dad wasn’t around to snag the other. Which yeah… had led to a couple embarrassing situations … but this was a bit different than that.
For one thing, the last time they’d had to split a hotel bed, Sam had been seventeen, still thin and gangly. Not the flippin’ man-mountain he’d become in adulthood. For another thing … Dean was sort of currently knocked up with the other man’s baby. And yeah, that was never going to sound anything but fucking crazy. So the idea of spooning with Sam twisted him in two directions.
About 45% of his brain said this was wrong wrong wrong and he needed to nip this in the fucking bud right now. Tell Sam he couldn’t just take Dean to his own bed and cuddle up to him like a lover. Because no matter what other crazy shit was going on in their lives, they were brothers … and they needed that boundary between them.
The other 55%, however, was kind of shrugging its shoulders and saying ‘what the hell.’ Their lives were already so fucked up to begin with … what’s a little incestuous snuggling? The previous nights breakdown signaled that Dean obviously needed something to help him get through this, and it wasn’t like he could get it from some other source, really.
Not to even mention the fact that they were both too fixated on the existence of the other, and always had been. Their lives were woven too tightly around each other, more so than any other set of brothers Dean had ever run across. And let’s face it, the Winchester Moral Compass has been fucked to shit and pointing due South for years. What’s one more little sin really gonna do at this point?
Dean sighed and allowed himself to relax back in Sam’s embrace. Not that he would admit out loud, but it felt sort of nice to have someone bigger and stronger holding him safe. Sam made a snuffling noise behind him and clenched his arms tighter for a second. Without thinking about it, Dean brought his arms up to cover his brother’s.
There was a soft giggle from the doorway that he instantly recognized as Sheriff Mills. Bobby shushed her quietly.
“Let them sleep. I think Dean had a rough night.”
Mills sighed and there was a suspicious clicking noise that sounded an awful lot like a camera. Son of a bitch. She whispered through a couple more clicks.
“They’re so cute, though, Bobby! Maybe we should have a shotgun wedding. Sam can make an honest woman out of Dean.”
Bobby downright giggled, the fucking traitor.
“Don’t let Dean hear you say that. Now come on.”
There was a soft swish of noise, and the door to Sam’s bedroom gently closed. Dean let out a frustrated breath, and then realized that Sam was shaking behind him. His face was plastered to the back of Dean’s neck, and the telltale sounds of his brother stifling laughter were sending shivers through Dean’s skin.
“Are you laughing back there, you asshole?”
Sam’s chuckles finally broke free, his warm breath ghosting over Dean’s neck. Dean shook his head and attempted to slip from his brother’s grip, but Sam just tightened his giant fucking arms and pulled him back. One of his large hands smoothed down Dean’s torso and came to rest on the swell of his belly.
“Did you sleep okay? No more breakdowns?”
Dean couldn’t find any words. This was a way too fucking intimate moment to be having after the recent train of thoughts that had steamrolled through his brain. He could feel his face flush with embarrassment. Sam raised himself to one elbow and leaned over so he could see Dean’s face. Dean slammed his eyes closed before he could meet his brothers’ concerned gaze.
“Dean? What’s wrong?”
Dean chuckled mirthlessly and sighed.
“What isn’t wrong with all this, Sam?”
Sam answered his sigh, and the hand on Dean’s belly disappeared. A second later warm fingertips were skimming down the side of Dean’s face. Almost against his better judgment, Dean allowed himself to fall backwards into the space that had opened up between them. It left him on his back below Sam’s raised torso, but as long as he didn’t open his eyes he could get away without acknowledging the fact that his brother was hovering so closely over him.
“You’re thinking too much, Dean.”
Damn. Sam was so close that Dean could feel the breath from his words on his cheeks. The warm fingers on his face started to trace his features. Over his eyebrows, down his nose, across his mouth and to his chin. They ran back up his jaw before coming to stop over his lips. Just a gentle pressure resting there even as Dean spoke against them.
“I’m thinking too much, Sam? About what? The fact I’m having my brother’s baby? Or maybe the fact that I’m currently in his bed, apparently teetering on the edge of falling into an incestuous relationship? Which one am I thinking too much about, Sammy?”
The fingers on his mouth began tracing the outline of his lips, but he received no other response. Finally braving the view above him, Dean opened his eyes. Sam had been intently staring at Dean’s mouth, utter concentration on his face, but when Dean’s eyes had fluttered open his gaze had immediately shifted to meet his brother‘s.
Dean wasn’t really sure how many minutes they stayed frozen in place, just looking at each other, but then Sam suddenly grinned big and bright. He dropped down to smack a loud, exaggerated kiss onto the side of Dean’s neck, and then pushed himself up to a seated position. After a moments pause he dropped down again, this time to Dean’s belly, and smacked another loud kiss to the swell.
“Come on, you two … time for breakfast.”
Dean just watched him, eyes wide with shock, as Sam crawled from the mattress and slipped on a t-shirt. Then he came over to the bed and pulled the covers off Dean and manhandled him up to his feet. He ushered him into their shared bathroom and proceeded to go about his morning routine. Piss, brush, floss, shave, deodorant. Shower could wait for later. He had to push Dean towards the toilet in order to snap him out of his shocked state and into his own routine.
The rest of the day was just as odd. Sam stood closer to Dean. Sat closer to Dean. Touched him more. Hovered just out of reach most of the time that he was around. Dean was pretty sure his eyeballs were going to permanently dry out as many times as they’d been opened wide in shock throughout the day. It was as if Dean saying the words out loud in bed that morning had flipped a switch in Sam’s brain, and suddenly permission had been given for him to treat Dean as a lover, not a brother.
Bobby and Sheriff Mills were eyeing them strangely as well, but Dean was generally just too stunned to ask them about it. He had to admit, though, there had been a certain level of comfort … being doted on a little. Maybe it was just the hormones talking, but it was the first time since this began that Dean didn’t feel like he was in this all alone. It was as if he was suddenly just one half of a happy expectant couple, instead of a scared single parent. And wow, that was one fucked up thought.
After dinner Sam had followed him upstairs and started the shower while Dean grabbed some clean pajamas from his room. He glanced over to his bed and was surprised to see it stripped of its bedding and his pillow missing. Pursing his lips in thought, he drifted back over to the bathroom, but Sam was nowhere in sight. Shrugging his shoulders Dean closed the door and shucked off his clothes.
The shower felt fucking amazing. He stood for several moments and just let the heat sluice down his aching back. A soft click and a large shadow on the other side of the curtain alerted him to Sam’s presence in the bathroom. He could hear the gentle rustle of clothes as his brother shed them before the curtain pulled back enough to admit him into the shower stall.
Dean swallowed past the huge lump in his throat. This was stepping over another boundary yet again. The heat of a large body crowded up behind him and Dean closed his eyes. He could feel arms reach around him to snag the bar soap from the cradle. Then his brother’s large hands were washing the days sweat off Dean’s body. He kept his eyes closed and let Sam push and pull him around the stall, letting his brother adjust him however he needed in order to clean.
His eyes remained closed as Sam quickly cleaned his own body and then replaced the soap back in the cradle. Then he gently titled Dean’s head back beneath the spray to wet down his hair. In his own mind Dean kept trying to justify his brother’s actions as well as his own easy acceptance of them. Nothing seemed to answer all the questions raging around inside his brain adequately enough.
Fingers were scrubbing shampoo into his hair, and fuck that felt better than he ever thought it could. There really was no denying that something had shifted between him and Sam. Somehow his lapse in control the previous evening had changed everything. Dean had been as strong as he could for as long as he could, but last night he’d clearly broken. And Sam was having to put him back together.
It was just … that Sam was putting him back together as a different creature. Not just a big brother. Something else.
Dean’s head was tilted back again to rinse the lather from his hair. Some of the water tracked in rivulets down his face and he squeezed his eyes closed tightly to keep any shampoo from burning them. His mouth opened with a tiny gasp when a trickle of water tickled down the side of his nose. He was just about to wonder what he must look like in Sam’s eyes, when his brother groaned and pulled Dean out of the spray.
“Fuck.”
Sam’s voice was breathy and broken. He gently maneuvered Dean to the back of the stall and then his hands fell away. Mentally kicking himself for giving in to temptation, Dean wiped the water from him eyes, then opened them. Sam’s back was to him and he was lathering up his own hair in quick, stilted motions.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Dean had known, peripherally, that his brother had gotten massive. But he obviously had never been this close to Sam naked in the last couple years. The younger man’s back and shoulders were broad as a fucking bus. Arched wide and defined with muscles. Dean had a momentary flashback to skinny little Sammy getting picked on by bullies at school because he was so small for his age. That kid was definitely gone.
Before he could stop himself, Dean chuckled deep in his throat.
Sam had been in the middle of rinsing his hair out, but he turned to meet Dean’s eyes at his soft laugh, and they both froze in place. Dean wasn’t sure what Sam was seeing in his face, but his own thoughts were hedging somewhere near ‘holy fuck Sam is hot’ which naturally morphed into ‘holy fuck I should not be thinking that Sam is hot’. Sam’s lips quirked a little into a grin, then he quickly finished rinsing his hair and turned off the spray of water.
Now that his eyes were open, Dean was resolutely demanding his gaze to stay above the waistline, because he really didn’t need to go there. (The almost natural ‘yet’ that followed that thought had him swallowing convulsively.) They both stepped out of the tub at the same time and Sam handed Dean his towel. Drying as quickly as he could manage, Dean slipped into his sleeping clothes and proceeded to brush his teeth and wash his face in the sink.
A couple times he glanced up into the mirror to find Sam watching him with an odd expression on his face, but he would quickly look away. Finally, when they were both finished and stepped out of the bathroom Dean had a moment of indecision. His bed had been bare and his pillow missing … he had a pretty good idea where it had migrated to … but that would be a pretty final step over the line. Probably no turning back from there.
He stood still and silent in the dark hall. Sam was a stoic sentinel in the background. It had to be Dean’s decision. He took a deep, calming breath and turned to walk into Sam’s bedroom. Others opinions didn’t really matter to him, Dean just knew he couldn’t continue the way he’d been before. Not after today. Not after feeling he was part of a pair, and not just on his own to deal with all the insanity.
Sure enough, his pillow was waiting for him on the left side of Sam’s bed. Dean’s preferred side. Not letting himself think any further than sleep sleep sleep, Dean crawled under the covers and lay on his side, back presented to Sam’s side of the bed. The little spitfire shifted around a bit after he settled, but she seemed to be content where she was for the moment.
Sam moved around the room, closing the door and curtains, shutting of the lamp and shucking his shirt off before finally crawling in behind Dean. He tugged the blankets high up to their shoulders before he scooted right up to Dean’s back, bare skin warming Dean instantly. Sam’s arm slipped over Dean’s side so that his hand could come to rest on the baby bump.
“How is she tonight?”
It was the first words Dean could remember either of them speaking for hours. Not since the heavy atmosphere had begun to gather around them after dinner. He licked his dry lips before speaking.
“Content for now, I think.”
Sam ‘hmmed’ appreciatively next to his ear before burrowing his face into the back of Dean’s neck. His hand started to rub little circles on Dean’s belly as his lips moved against skin while he spoke.
“Sleep, Dean.”
Dean nearly burst into hysterical laughter and screeched ‘seriously!?’, but surprisingly, his brother’s touch made him drift right off in an astonishingly short period of time. And once again, he had a fantastic night’s sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
~*~ CHAPTER FOUR ~*~
A couple weeks after the ill-fated visit from Captain Asshole, or Doctor Morgan as Sam liked to correct him, found Dean standing in the kitchen munching on a bag of Doritos he’d been dipping in ranch dressing. (Regardless of Sam’s opinion, Dean was adamant that everything was better dipped in ranch dressing.)
Bobby and the ranch dressing hater were currently buried under mountains of books in the study. The two would sometimes go out on small, nearby hunts, but for the most part Sam had settled into doing research and background checks for hunters already in the field. It suited him pretty well, being as research was always his forte anyway. Dean had taken over the responsibility of answering Bobby’s phones. It was actually a lot of fun and kept him from getting too bored.
He was just about to jab another Dorito into his mouth when something new happened. The weirdest fucking sensation hit him right in the gut. It kind of felt like gas, but like, to the umpteenth degree. Dean froze with the chip halfway to his mouth. The strange sensation happened again, but this time it seemed to roll across his stomach from left to right, and just like that … he knew what it was.
He dropped everything instantly and stumbled out of the kitchen and into the study. The look on his face must have been something to see, because Sam and Bobby immediately jumped to their feet in panic and raced over to him.
“Dean!! What is it? What’s wrong?”
For a second he just stared at his brother with wide, shocked eyes before reaching out his hand and grabbing Sammy by the wrist. Without preamble or explanation, he pulled up his shirt and shoved Sam’s hand against his belly. There was only a moment’s wait before the rolling sensation happened again, this time right across where Sam’s palm was placed. Dean grinned when he felt it.
Sam gasped.
“OH MY GOD!”
Dean chuckled softly.
“She’s movin’, Sammy!”
Bobby damn near squealed in delight (though he would deny it adamantly later) and stepped closer. Dean snagged the older man’s wrist as well and placed his hand right next to Sam’s giant one. They had to wait a couple seconds, but sure enough the movement happened again.
“Well I’ll be goddamned … ain’t that something?”
There was a measure of awe in Bobby’s voice that had Dean choking up a little. The three of them stayed there for almost half an hour before the baby settled down. It was probably one of the most surreal afternoons Dean had spent in his entirely too fucked up life, but in a good way. Each time the baby would move, he would call out to Sam and his brother would rush over to share the experience with him.
For the next several days there was an excited, happy atmosphere permeating through the house. Sam had hung up a calendar on the fridge counting the months and days down to what they approximated would be nine months. Figuring on the date of his magical ‘conception’, Sam’s best guess had Dean at almost five months along and the baby with a possible August due date.
It was all going pretty well, until a random Tuesday during his fifth month. Sam had run into town to get them something to eat that wasn’t a sandwich or boxed dinner, and Bobby was mumbling and cursing into his phone to a hunter chasing a Wendigo in Oregon. Dean was descending the stairs after a nice long nap to grab something to drink in the kitchen.
At this point, he’d gotten used to the movement of the little person hitching a ride in his gut, but this time something different happened. Her little elbow or knee jabbed roughly into what felt like his kidney and an intense spike of pain lanced through his entire body. Dean gasped in shock … and missed the next step on the stairs. He had the momentary presence of mind to shift he weight backwards so that he wouldn’t tumble forward and land on his stomach.
His tailbone cracked hard on the wood step and he scrambled desperately to protect his belly as gravity and momentum tossed him downward until he rolled to a stop at the bottom of the staircase.
“DEAN!”
Bobby was on him as soon as he’d come to a stop.
“DEAN!”
The old man was damn near frantic above him, and Dean really wanted to reassure him that he was fine, but he currently couldn’t convince any oxygen to suck into his lungs. Of course, as luck would have it, that would be the exact moment that Sam walked in the front door not five feet away from them. Dean couldn’t see him, being his eyes were still clenched shut, but he heard the sound of their supper hitting the floor just about the same time his brother’s voice bellowed his name.
“DEAN!! WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT’S GOING ON?”
Bobby grunted, voice broken with worry.
“I don’t know! He just fell down the fucking stairs!”
A desperate keening sound broke from Sam’s lips and warm hands were suddenly smoothing across Dean’s face and skull, presumably searching for a head injury. The air that had been stolen from his lungs finally decided to return and Dean gasped as he sucked in a breath. He opened his eyes and looked up at the two men hovering above him.
“DEAN!”
His little brother looked like he was about two seconds from bursting into tears, or worse, calling an ambulance. So Dean reached out to grip the younger man’s shirt in his fingers.
“M’okay, Sammy … I … I think.”
His back was burning and aching from the fall, but he’d suffered enough broken bones in his lifetime to know that he’d been lucky and missed out on that particular pleasure. He was also pretty sure that he hadn’t cracked his head on anything, and had managed to protect his swollen belly from any of the impact. As if to reassure him, a little elbow or knee took the opportunity to spear right into his bladder and he sucked in a curse.
“What? Dean! What?”
Sam was clutching Dean’s arm like a lifeline. Dean took a deep sigh and tried to push his current calm demeanor into his brother through that connection.
“Little one just jabbed me in the bladder. Lettin’ us know she was okay.”
A brilliant smile broke the dimples free on his brother’s face, and finally Sammy sat back on his haunches and practically deflated into a sag.
“What happened, Dean?”
Dean shifted experimentally and Bobby helped him to slowly sit up. His tailbone flared in pain and he flinched. There was going to be one hell of a bruise on his ass come morning.
“Dunno … I was coming down the stairs, and she moved … but I think she jabbed my kidney or something and it shocked me enough that I missed a step.”
Between Bobby and Sam, they got him hefted up off the floor and over to the couch. Besides his tailbone nothing felt too damaged, and he sighed as he sank into the worn cushions of the couch. Sam immediately went to the bookshelf and snatched up the much abused ‘What To Expect When Your Expecting’ and began flipping through the pages.
“Is that normal?”
Dean sighed.
“I don’t know. Maybe? How the hell would I know, Sammy? Not like I have any experience in this fucking area, is it?”
Sam sighed and collapsed into one of the sitting chairs.
“Not like any of us do. Or even know anyone who does.”
Bobby suddenly stood up straight and smacked himself on the forehead with his palm.
“DAMMIT! I’m so stupid!”
With those words still ringing in the air, he snatched up his cell phone and stormed out of the house. Sam and Dean could only watch him go, and then turn back to meet each other’s gaze shrugging helplessly. Sam went back to the foyer to salvage what he could of their dinner.
Half an hour later Bobby walked back in the door followed closely by Sherriff Jodie Mills.
~*~*~*~*~*~
To say that Sheriff Mills’ reaction to the situation had been … unexpected … would likely be the understatement of the year. If not the decade. First was shock, which was to be expected. Then was denial, solved easily by Dean having to bare his belly and wait for the next movement of the baby. The hysterical laughter that followed kind of blew them all for a loop, though.
Once she’d, quite literally, picked herself up off the floor Mills apologized for her outburst and just mumbled something about divine retribution for all womankind. Which made Dean scoot a couple feet further away from her and snag a nearby bag of M&M’s.
After recovering from her reaction to Dean’s situation, Mills was actually a hell of an asset to have around. She and Bobby and Sam went through nearly every damn page of that fucking pregnancy book, asking Dean questions relentlessly and comparing female pregnancy to male pregnancy.
Sam was apparently going to write a fucking novel on the subject judging by all the notes he was taking. Which made Dean scoff and grouch.
“You think this is actually going to happen to some other poor asshole?”
The younger man just shrugged his shoulders, gave Dean a puppy look, and went back to writing. Dean sighed and stretched out on the couch. Sheriff Mills spent every moment she could at the Singer/Winchester abode from then on out. Dean often wondered if the woman actually worked at all anymore.
Time was kind of strange and fluid after that. Dean knew it was passing, because he watched Sam mark each day off the calendar right before bed every night. But all the moments in between just began to blend together like one long, boring repetitive roller coaster. There would be good days, when Dean felt awesome and excited and there was no pain.
Then there would be bad days. When the growing life inside him would press against his insides, and for several seconds he would be unable to breathe from the agony. They never spoke about it out loud, but Doctor Morgan’s parting words about a male body being unable to carry a pregnancy to term had begun to jab into Dean’s brain just like the little elbows and knees inside him.
He knew from the pictures in the damn book that a woman at seven months along should have a nicely rounded belly, making plenty of room for the tiny body developing inside. Dean’s stomach did have a decidedly noticeable swell. His abdominal definition had disappeared (much to his dismay) but at most, he just looked like a man who had let himself go with too much beer and couch potato time.
His baby bump was a fraction of the images he looked up of women at seven months. Which meant, obviously, that the majority of the kid was developing right smack in the middle of his internal organs, maybe even poking near his chest cavity. Which would explain the lovely shortness of breath he had been experiencing as of late.
Dean woke feeling miserable one morning, and apparently the little spitfire had been playing soccer with his bladder during the night, because he’d pissed himself. He’d pissed himself in bed. He opened his mouth to call out for Sam and was taken by surprise when it morphed into a sob. The next thing he knew, Dean was weeping uncontrollably into his pillow for absolutely no reason he could think of.
Well. Except for the fact that he was pregnant. And a man. And fat. And it fucking sucked. And he’d peed all over himself like a little kid. And he was completely miserable.
So he cried.
It only took a couple minutes until Sam was racing into the room from across the hall, nearly tripping on his pajama bottoms and hair all tussled with sleep. Dean took one look at his brother’s toned abs and started to sob harder. He punched at his pillow a couple times in frustration.
“Dean?”
His brother’s large, warm hands were on his back rubbing calming circles into his skin, and Dean jammed his face into the pillow beneath him and screamed out his rage and dismay. The trembling hands on his back stilled. Sam’s voice was broken when he called out Dean’s name again, but Dean just kept screaming and sobbing until there was just nothing left inside him.
When he finally calmed and came back to his senses, both of Sam’s hands were holding his face and his thumbs were gently smoothing over Dean’s cheeks, wiping away tears. Thick tracks of moisture had mottled Sam’s own skin, and his eyes were red and glassy. Dean shook his head just slightly within his brother’s grasp.
“I … I can’t do this … Sammy … I can’t… I can’t … ”
His voice was sandpaper rough and broken and the words burned his damaged throat. Sam didn’t speak, just shifted until he was gingerly helping Dean off the bed. He steered his older brother into the bathroom they shared and stripped him of his dirty sweats, tossing them into the hamper in the corner. Sam turned on the tap, warmed the water temperature, and then soaked a wash cloth. Wringing most of the water back out, he handed the rag to Dean and then slipped out the door. All without saying a word.
Refusing to look at himself in the mirror, Dean washed his face with the warm cloth, and quickly ran it over his body concentrating on the areas previously damp from his pants. Sam stepped back into the room with a clean pair of Dean’s sweats and a giant threadbare red t-shirt that was actually Sam’s. He held the pants out for Dean to step into and pulled them carefully up his legs to his bulging waist. Then he put the shirt over Dean’s head and helped him get his arms through the sleeves.
Part of Dean was rebelling at everything that was happening. He didn’t need to be coddled and babied. Especially not by his little brother. Another part of him, however … the louder part, was just craving some human fucking contact. It was the part that didn’t balk at all when Sam took his hand at led him back to his brother’s bedroom to lie down on the clean mattress. It was the part that didn’t even squirm in discomfort when Sam crawled in bed after him and tucked his body close around Dean’s. It was the part that really sort of liked when Sam snaked an arm around him to rest his hand on the swell of his belly, and then whispered softly in his ear.
“You can do this, Dean. I know you can.”
Dean slept like the contented dead for the rest of the night.
The sound of Bobby greeting Sheriff Mills downstairs finally woke Dean the next morning. He was disoriented for a few moments until he remembered the last night and that he was currently in Sam’s bed instead of his own. The very next thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in Sam’s bed alone.
His brother was completely plastered against him. Spooned up behind him, with his arms wrapped tightly around Dean’s chest and one long leg shoved between his. Warm puffs of breath were tickling Dean’s neck where Sam was apparently snugged up behind him on the pillow.
Huh. Awkward.
He closed his eyes again and debated the easiest way to extract himself from the situation. It’s not like he wasn’t used to Sam turning Dean into his personal teddy bear … but that had been years ago, when Sam was still little and had nightmares at night. They’d actually shared a bed up until Sam split for college. Unless Dad wasn’t around to snag the other. Which yeah… had led to a couple embarrassing situations … but this was a bit different than that.
For one thing, the last time they’d had to split a hotel bed, Sam had been seventeen, still thin and gangly. Not the flippin’ man-mountain he’d become in adulthood. For another thing … Dean was sort of currently knocked up with the other man’s baby. And yeah, that was never going to sound anything but fucking crazy. So the idea of spooning with Sam twisted him in two directions.
About 45% of his brain said this was wrong wrong wrong and he needed to nip this in the fucking bud right now. Tell Sam he couldn’t just take Dean to his own bed and cuddle up to him like a lover. Because no matter what other crazy shit was going on in their lives, they were brothers … and they needed that boundary between them.
The other 55%, however, was kind of shrugging its shoulders and saying ‘what the hell.’ Their lives were already so fucked up to begin with … what’s a little incestuous snuggling? The previous nights breakdown signaled that Dean obviously needed something to help him get through this, and it wasn’t like he could get it from some other source, really.
Not to even mention the fact that they were both too fixated on the existence of the other, and always had been. Their lives were woven too tightly around each other, more so than any other set of brothers Dean had ever run across. And let’s face it, the Winchester Moral Compass has been fucked to shit and pointing due South for years. What’s one more little sin really gonna do at this point?
Dean sighed and allowed himself to relax back in Sam’s embrace. Not that he would admit out loud, but it felt sort of nice to have someone bigger and stronger holding him safe. Sam made a snuffling noise behind him and clenched his arms tighter for a second. Without thinking about it, Dean brought his arms up to cover his brother’s.
There was a soft giggle from the doorway that he instantly recognized as Sheriff Mills. Bobby shushed her quietly.
“Let them sleep. I think Dean had a rough night.”
Mills sighed and there was a suspicious clicking noise that sounded an awful lot like a camera. Son of a bitch. She whispered through a couple more clicks.
“They’re so cute, though, Bobby! Maybe we should have a shotgun wedding. Sam can make an honest woman out of Dean.”
Bobby downright giggled, the fucking traitor.
“Don’t let Dean hear you say that. Now come on.”
There was a soft swish of noise, and the door to Sam’s bedroom gently closed. Dean let out a frustrated breath, and then realized that Sam was shaking behind him. His face was plastered to the back of Dean’s neck, and the telltale sounds of his brother stifling laughter were sending shivers through Dean’s skin.
“Are you laughing back there, you asshole?”
Sam’s chuckles finally broke free, his warm breath ghosting over Dean’s neck. Dean shook his head and attempted to slip from his brother’s grip, but Sam just tightened his giant fucking arms and pulled him back. One of his large hands smoothed down Dean’s torso and came to rest on the swell of his belly.
“Did you sleep okay? No more breakdowns?”
Dean couldn’t find any words. This was a way too fucking intimate moment to be having after the recent train of thoughts that had steamrolled through his brain. He could feel his face flush with embarrassment. Sam raised himself to one elbow and leaned over so he could see Dean’s face. Dean slammed his eyes closed before he could meet his brothers’ concerned gaze.
“Dean? What’s wrong?”
Dean chuckled mirthlessly and sighed.
“What isn’t wrong with all this, Sam?”
Sam answered his sigh, and the hand on Dean’s belly disappeared. A second later warm fingertips were skimming down the side of Dean’s face. Almost against his better judgment, Dean allowed himself to fall backwards into the space that had opened up between them. It left him on his back below Sam’s raised torso, but as long as he didn’t open his eyes he could get away without acknowledging the fact that his brother was hovering so closely over him.
“You’re thinking too much, Dean.”
Damn. Sam was so close that Dean could feel the breath from his words on his cheeks. The warm fingers on his face started to trace his features. Over his eyebrows, down his nose, across his mouth and to his chin. They ran back up his jaw before coming to stop over his lips. Just a gentle pressure resting there even as Dean spoke against them.
“I’m thinking too much, Sam? About what? The fact I’m having my brother’s baby? Or maybe the fact that I’m currently in his bed, apparently teetering on the edge of falling into an incestuous relationship? Which one am I thinking too much about, Sammy?”
The fingers on his mouth began tracing the outline of his lips, but he received no other response. Finally braving the view above him, Dean opened his eyes. Sam had been intently staring at Dean’s mouth, utter concentration on his face, but when Dean’s eyes had fluttered open his gaze had immediately shifted to meet his brother‘s.
Dean wasn’t really sure how many minutes they stayed frozen in place, just looking at each other, but then Sam suddenly grinned big and bright. He dropped down to smack a loud, exaggerated kiss onto the side of Dean’s neck, and then pushed himself up to a seated position. After a moments pause he dropped down again, this time to Dean’s belly, and smacked another loud kiss to the swell.
“Come on, you two … time for breakfast.”
Dean just watched him, eyes wide with shock, as Sam crawled from the mattress and slipped on a t-shirt. Then he came over to the bed and pulled the covers off Dean and manhandled him up to his feet. He ushered him into their shared bathroom and proceeded to go about his morning routine. Piss, brush, floss, shave, deodorant. Shower could wait for later. He had to push Dean towards the toilet in order to snap him out of his shocked state and into his own routine.
The rest of the day was just as odd. Sam stood closer to Dean. Sat closer to Dean. Touched him more. Hovered just out of reach most of the time that he was around. Dean was pretty sure his eyeballs were going to permanently dry out as many times as they’d been opened wide in shock throughout the day. It was as if Dean saying the words out loud in bed that morning had flipped a switch in Sam’s brain, and suddenly permission had been given for him to treat Dean as a lover, not a brother.
Bobby and Sheriff Mills were eyeing them strangely as well, but Dean was generally just too stunned to ask them about it. He had to admit, though, there had been a certain level of comfort … being doted on a little. Maybe it was just the hormones talking, but it was the first time since this began that Dean didn’t feel like he was in this all alone. It was as if he was suddenly just one half of a happy expectant couple, instead of a scared single parent. And wow, that was one fucked up thought.
After dinner Sam had followed him upstairs and started the shower while Dean grabbed some clean pajamas from his room. He glanced over to his bed and was surprised to see it stripped of its bedding and his pillow missing. Pursing his lips in thought, he drifted back over to the bathroom, but Sam was nowhere in sight. Shrugging his shoulders Dean closed the door and shucked off his clothes.
The shower felt fucking amazing. He stood for several moments and just let the heat sluice down his aching back. A soft click and a large shadow on the other side of the curtain alerted him to Sam’s presence in the bathroom. He could hear the gentle rustle of clothes as his brother shed them before the curtain pulled back enough to admit him into the shower stall.
Dean swallowed past the huge lump in his throat. This was stepping over another boundary yet again. The heat of a large body crowded up behind him and Dean closed his eyes. He could feel arms reach around him to snag the bar soap from the cradle. Then his brother’s large hands were washing the days sweat off Dean’s body. He kept his eyes closed and let Sam push and pull him around the stall, letting his brother adjust him however he needed in order to clean.
His eyes remained closed as Sam quickly cleaned his own body and then replaced the soap back in the cradle. Then he gently titled Dean’s head back beneath the spray to wet down his hair. In his own mind Dean kept trying to justify his brother’s actions as well as his own easy acceptance of them. Nothing seemed to answer all the questions raging around inside his brain adequately enough.
Fingers were scrubbing shampoo into his hair, and fuck that felt better than he ever thought it could. There really was no denying that something had shifted between him and Sam. Somehow his lapse in control the previous evening had changed everything. Dean had been as strong as he could for as long as he could, but last night he’d clearly broken. And Sam was having to put him back together.
It was just … that Sam was putting him back together as a different creature. Not just a big brother. Something else.
Dean’s head was tilted back again to rinse the lather from his hair. Some of the water tracked in rivulets down his face and he squeezed his eyes closed tightly to keep any shampoo from burning them. His mouth opened with a tiny gasp when a trickle of water tickled down the side of his nose. He was just about to wonder what he must look like in Sam’s eyes, when his brother groaned and pulled Dean out of the spray.
“Fuck.”
Sam’s voice was breathy and broken. He gently maneuvered Dean to the back of the stall and then his hands fell away. Mentally kicking himself for giving in to temptation, Dean wiped the water from him eyes, then opened them. Sam’s back was to him and he was lathering up his own hair in quick, stilted motions.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Dean had known, peripherally, that his brother had gotten massive. But he obviously had never been this close to Sam naked in the last couple years. The younger man’s back and shoulders were broad as a fucking bus. Arched wide and defined with muscles. Dean had a momentary flashback to skinny little Sammy getting picked on by bullies at school because he was so small for his age. That kid was definitely gone.
Before he could stop himself, Dean chuckled deep in his throat.
Sam had been in the middle of rinsing his hair out, but he turned to meet Dean’s eyes at his soft laugh, and they both froze in place. Dean wasn’t sure what Sam was seeing in his face, but his own thoughts were hedging somewhere near ‘holy fuck Sam is hot’ which naturally morphed into ‘holy fuck I should not be thinking that Sam is hot’. Sam’s lips quirked a little into a grin, then he quickly finished rinsing his hair and turned off the spray of water.
Now that his eyes were open, Dean was resolutely demanding his gaze to stay above the waistline, because he really didn’t need to go there. (The almost natural ‘yet’ that followed that thought had him swallowing convulsively.) They both stepped out of the tub at the same time and Sam handed Dean his towel. Drying as quickly as he could manage, Dean slipped into his sleeping clothes and proceeded to brush his teeth and wash his face in the sink.
A couple times he glanced up into the mirror to find Sam watching him with an odd expression on his face, but he would quickly look away. Finally, when they were both finished and stepped out of the bathroom Dean had a moment of indecision. His bed had been bare and his pillow missing … he had a pretty good idea where it had migrated to … but that would be a pretty final step over the line. Probably no turning back from there.
He stood still and silent in the dark hall. Sam was a stoic sentinel in the background. It had to be Dean’s decision. He took a deep, calming breath and turned to walk into Sam’s bedroom. Others opinions didn’t really matter to him, Dean just knew he couldn’t continue the way he’d been before. Not after today. Not after feeling he was part of a pair, and not just on his own to deal with all the insanity.
Sure enough, his pillow was waiting for him on the left side of Sam’s bed. Dean’s preferred side. Not letting himself think any further than sleep sleep sleep, Dean crawled under the covers and lay on his side, back presented to Sam’s side of the bed. The little spitfire shifted around a bit after he settled, but she seemed to be content where she was for the moment.
Sam moved around the room, closing the door and curtains, shutting of the lamp and shucking his shirt off before finally crawling in behind Dean. He tugged the blankets high up to their shoulders before he scooted right up to Dean’s back, bare skin warming Dean instantly. Sam’s arm slipped over Dean’s side so that his hand could come to rest on the baby bump.
“How is she tonight?”
It was the first words Dean could remember either of them speaking for hours. Not since the heavy atmosphere had begun to gather around them after dinner. He licked his dry lips before speaking.
“Content for now, I think.”
Sam ‘hmmed’ appreciatively next to his ear before burrowing his face into the back of Dean’s neck. His hand started to rub little circles on Dean’s belly as his lips moved against skin while he spoke.
“Sleep, Dean.”
Dean nearly burst into hysterical laughter and screeched ‘seriously!?’, but surprisingly, his brother’s touch made him drift right off in an astonishingly short period of time. And once again, he had a fantastic night’s sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE