FIC - "Starsky & Hutch Never Had to Deal With Water Retention" - CHAPTER SIX
MASTERPOST
~*~ CHAPTER SIX ~*~
There was a soft, gentle cadence of a rumble somewhere in the darkness. A deep, cooing whisper of words coming from a very familiar voice. It was followed by a bubbling, gurgle of a giggle that he didn’t recognize at all. It sounded so small.
The world was nothing but darkness and pain, and he really didn’t want to thrust himself back into it, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there was something very important waiting for him if he tried. He forced himself closer to the surface of awareness, focusing on the voice so close by.
“You’re such a little thing, aren’t you? Are you going to be short like your Daddy? Huh?”
Sam.
A squealing peal of noise responded to his brother’s soft words and Sam chuckled.
Oh God. A baby. His baby. Their baby. He’d actually had a baby.
“That’s it, MaryJo … you tell Daddy he’s slept enough … we want him to wake up.”
The words should have been light-hearted and happy, but there was an oppressive sadness to them instead. Sam sounded defeated and barely hanging on. Fighting harder towards consciousness, Dean worried what had made his brother sound that way. He tried to open his eyes, but his body was still unresponsive to his demands.
Sensation started to prickle back into his extremities. He could tell he was on a bed, but it was too firm to be one of the mattresses at the house. There was the dull pinprick of an IV in his arm, and that annoying press of a cannula feeding him oxygen under his nose, but no ever-present beeping or antiseptic smell of a hospital.
Slow footsteps came into the room. Dean recognized Sheriff Mills voice as she conversed with Sam.
“Do you want me to take her for a while, Sam?”
His brother sniffed, and Dean could almost hear his ridiculously long hair move as he shook his head.
“No, it’s okay. We’re just going to stay and talk to Daddy a little bit more, right MaryJo?”
There was a pause of inactivity in the room for a moment.
“Sam … the hospice nurse is going to come by this afternoon. She’s going to ask again about-”
“Just tell her no! Like always!”
Dean had never heard Sam snap at the Sheriff before. He wanted to admonish him for being rude, but it still wouldn’t come. Jodie sighed heavily, and there was a deep sorrow in the sound.
“Sam … how long are you going to-”
“Until he wakes up!”
“Sam-”
“He’s going to wake up, Jodie! Dean always comes back to me … you’ll see. He’s going to wake up.”
The last few words were broken with anguish, and Dean decided hell no … that was it. No more stupid unresponsive body, he had to break the surface and let Sam know he was here. That he wasn’t holding out for nothing. He fought his eyelids as viciously as he used to battle werewolves and vampires. His eyelashes began a ticklish flutter against his cheek, and he wanted to rage into the air. Take that, you bastards! Now fucking OPEN!
Sheriff Mills gasped from a few feet away.
“SAM!”
A flurry of noise erupted in the room, and the next thing Dean knew large hands were grasping his face gently between them.
“That’s it, Dean! Come on! Come on! Wake up!”
For fuck’s sake, Sam … I’m trying, already.
A small sliver of light broke through the darkness, but everything was blurry and distorted, just large shapes. He could hear Jodie hollering frantically for Bobby somewhere in the background behind Sam’s voice.
“Please, Dean! You’re so close! Come on, baby, please!”
Baby? Who the fuck you callin’ ‘baby’, Sammy?
Finally, Dean beat back the vicious eyelids and a million things swam into view. The dark shape hovering over him focused and cleared into Sam’s face. Behind him, Dean could see the butter yellow walls of the nursery, and Bobby and Jodie standing in the doorway clinging to each other. Tears were tracking down Sam’s face as he broke into relieved laughter.
“There you are… there you are.”
Pushing his heavy tongue outwards, Dean tried to lick his dry lips, but winced at his scratchy throat. Sam disappeared for a second, and when he came back something cool and wet touched Dean’s mouth. It felt like an ice cube from the freezer downstairs and tasted vaguely like sweet tea. Sam must have fished it out of his own drink. The melting water dribbled past Dean’s lips and down into his parched throat.
God, it was fucking Heaven.
He pursed his lips to suck on the ice cube and flexed his fingers in experimentation. They tingled a bit, but seemed to work just fine. Sam’s gaze never wavered from him. There were deep bags under his little brother’s eyes, but the excitement shining in his hazel peepers drowned out the visible exhaustion. Dean focused his gaze into Sam’s eyes and just returned the stare. Sam smiled just a little and Dean felt his mouth quirk up in response.
He released the ice cube and worked his tongue into forming some raspy, dry words.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Which might have actually sounded more like ‘hu schmee’ … but the grin on the other man’s face proved he understood just the same.
“Hey, Dean.”
His eyelids began to droop again, and a hefty yawn caught him off guard. Amazing how you could be sleepy after waking up from an apparent coma, but them’s the breaks, right? He kept his focus on Sam’s grinning mouth until his eyes slipped shut and sleep claimed him.
The next time he woke up, the IV and oxygen were gone and the room was dim with night. There was a soft snore next to him, and when he turned his head he found Sam sleeping in a recliner beside his … hospital bed? Where the hell had they found a hospital bed?
On the other side of the recliner, he could make out the crib with a small bundled shape inside. His daughter. His daughter … and he’d never even seen her. He wiggled his toes once, to make sure they still worked, before he gingerly swung his legs over to the side of the bed. Slower than molasses, Dean slid to a standing position, still gripping tight to the railing. He teetered for a moment, regaining his balance, and resolutely tried to ignore the stabbing pain low in his belly.
Taking a tentative step, he grimaced. His legs were damn weak. It kind of pissed him off. Small, shuffling footsteps got him across the room. When he reached the crib he took a deep breath before leaning forward to peer inside. A star-shaped night light on the wall illuminated a perfect, chubby little baby wrapped in blankets. She was wearing footie pajamas, and her tiny covered feet peeked out from the pink blanket.
Gah… pink. That had to be Jodie’s doing.
Her cheeks were plump and full like a babies should be, and she had Dean’s pert little ski-slope nose, and his mouth with perfect little heart-shaped lips. Her hair was dark, though, and curly like Sammy’s. Her hands were big, too, with long delicate fingers.
Bet she’ll be tall like Sam. Amazon woman … have to beat the boys off her with a stick. Or better yet, just keep her locked up in Bobby’s safe room until she’s thirty.
“They’re green, you know? Her eyes.”
He jumped a little at Sam’s soft voice and turned to meet his gaze, still reclined in the chair.
“Yeah?”
Voice was still rough, but getting there. Sam smiled and stretched out a long arm, palm up, beckoning Dean to him.
“Yeah … shaped like mine, though. Come here.”
Reaching out to grasp Sam’s offered hand, he allowed himself to be carefully pulled into his brother’s lap. He tucked his face snug into Sam’s neck and wound his legs around his brother’s fleece covered ones. Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Dean’s torso and leaned forward to kiss his shoulder.
“Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Dean sighed into Sam’s warm skin.
“What happened?”
The younger man’s throat bobbed once before he began to speak.
“You’d lost a lot of blood and your body went into shock. Jodie called in some favors with a couple paramedics that she knows. They got you stabilized and out of danger … but then you just … wouldn’t wake up. Bobby and I figured that had more to do with the curse than anything else. This wasn’t exactly something you were supposed to survive, so … we tried everything we could think of. You just wouldn’t wake up.”
Dean hummed softly under his breath as Sam continued.
“Bobby figured it was something that you had to decide you would come out of. So we all just … took turns coming in and talking to you.”
“How long?”
Sam swallowed harshly, and his voice thickened with emotion.
“Almost three weeks.”
Damn, Sammy … that would have driven me crazy. I’m so sorry.
“You kept the name?”
Sam chuckled warmly and squeezed his arms a fraction.
“Yeah. I figured they would all three get a big kick out of it. I like it. Bobby’s lip damn near wibbled when I told him. It’s a good name. MaryJo Ellen Winchester. I can practically hear you screaming it the first time she scratches the Impala.”
Dean laughed and tucked his cold toes under Sam’s calf.
“Yeah well … good thing I was right about the girl thing. Jonathan Robert Castiel Winchester is just too much of a fucking mouthful.”
A deep boom of laughter echoed in the room when Sam voiced his amusement. Giving in to an urge, Dean brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his brother’s hair.
“I’m sorry for scaring you. For almost leaving again.”
Sam shook his head and grinned.
“It’s fine. You’re here now. We all are. We’re good.”
Dean answered his grin with one of his own before wrapping his arm around Sam’s chest and hugging him close.
“Yeah. We are.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
THE END
~*~*~*~*~*~
MASTERPOST
~*~ CHAPTER SIX ~*~
There was a soft, gentle cadence of a rumble somewhere in the darkness. A deep, cooing whisper of words coming from a very familiar voice. It was followed by a bubbling, gurgle of a giggle that he didn’t recognize at all. It sounded so small.
The world was nothing but darkness and pain, and he really didn’t want to thrust himself back into it, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there was something very important waiting for him if he tried. He forced himself closer to the surface of awareness, focusing on the voice so close by.
“You’re such a little thing, aren’t you? Are you going to be short like your Daddy? Huh?”
Sam.
A squealing peal of noise responded to his brother’s soft words and Sam chuckled.
Oh God. A baby. His baby. Their baby. He’d actually had a baby.
“That’s it, MaryJo … you tell Daddy he’s slept enough … we want him to wake up.”
The words should have been light-hearted and happy, but there was an oppressive sadness to them instead. Sam sounded defeated and barely hanging on. Fighting harder towards consciousness, Dean worried what had made his brother sound that way. He tried to open his eyes, but his body was still unresponsive to his demands.
Sensation started to prickle back into his extremities. He could tell he was on a bed, but it was too firm to be one of the mattresses at the house. There was the dull pinprick of an IV in his arm, and that annoying press of a cannula feeding him oxygen under his nose, but no ever-present beeping or antiseptic smell of a hospital.
Slow footsteps came into the room. Dean recognized Sheriff Mills voice as she conversed with Sam.
“Do you want me to take her for a while, Sam?”
His brother sniffed, and Dean could almost hear his ridiculously long hair move as he shook his head.
“No, it’s okay. We’re just going to stay and talk to Daddy a little bit more, right MaryJo?”
There was a pause of inactivity in the room for a moment.
“Sam … the hospice nurse is going to come by this afternoon. She’s going to ask again about-”
“Just tell her no! Like always!”
Dean had never heard Sam snap at the Sheriff before. He wanted to admonish him for being rude, but it still wouldn’t come. Jodie sighed heavily, and there was a deep sorrow in the sound.
“Sam … how long are you going to-”
“Until he wakes up!”
“Sam-”
“He’s going to wake up, Jodie! Dean always comes back to me … you’ll see. He’s going to wake up.”
The last few words were broken with anguish, and Dean decided hell no … that was it. No more stupid unresponsive body, he had to break the surface and let Sam know he was here. That he wasn’t holding out for nothing. He fought his eyelids as viciously as he used to battle werewolves and vampires. His eyelashes began a ticklish flutter against his cheek, and he wanted to rage into the air. Take that, you bastards! Now fucking OPEN!
Sheriff Mills gasped from a few feet away.
“SAM!”
A flurry of noise erupted in the room, and the next thing Dean knew large hands were grasping his face gently between them.
“That’s it, Dean! Come on! Come on! Wake up!”
For fuck’s sake, Sam … I’m trying, already.
A small sliver of light broke through the darkness, but everything was blurry and distorted, just large shapes. He could hear Jodie hollering frantically for Bobby somewhere in the background behind Sam’s voice.
“Please, Dean! You’re so close! Come on, baby, please!”
Baby? Who the fuck you callin’ ‘baby’, Sammy?
Finally, Dean beat back the vicious eyelids and a million things swam into view. The dark shape hovering over him focused and cleared into Sam’s face. Behind him, Dean could see the butter yellow walls of the nursery, and Bobby and Jodie standing in the doorway clinging to each other. Tears were tracking down Sam’s face as he broke into relieved laughter.
“There you are… there you are.”
Pushing his heavy tongue outwards, Dean tried to lick his dry lips, but winced at his scratchy throat. Sam disappeared for a second, and when he came back something cool and wet touched Dean’s mouth. It felt like an ice cube from the freezer downstairs and tasted vaguely like sweet tea. Sam must have fished it out of his own drink. The melting water dribbled past Dean’s lips and down into his parched throat.
God, it was fucking Heaven.
He pursed his lips to suck on the ice cube and flexed his fingers in experimentation. They tingled a bit, but seemed to work just fine. Sam’s gaze never wavered from him. There were deep bags under his little brother’s eyes, but the excitement shining in his hazel peepers drowned out the visible exhaustion. Dean focused his gaze into Sam’s eyes and just returned the stare. Sam smiled just a little and Dean felt his mouth quirk up in response.
He released the ice cube and worked his tongue into forming some raspy, dry words.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Which might have actually sounded more like ‘hu schmee’ … but the grin on the other man’s face proved he understood just the same.
“Hey, Dean.”
His eyelids began to droop again, and a hefty yawn caught him off guard. Amazing how you could be sleepy after waking up from an apparent coma, but them’s the breaks, right? He kept his focus on Sam’s grinning mouth until his eyes slipped shut and sleep claimed him.
The next time he woke up, the IV and oxygen were gone and the room was dim with night. There was a soft snore next to him, and when he turned his head he found Sam sleeping in a recliner beside his … hospital bed? Where the hell had they found a hospital bed?
On the other side of the recliner, he could make out the crib with a small bundled shape inside. His daughter. His daughter … and he’d never even seen her. He wiggled his toes once, to make sure they still worked, before he gingerly swung his legs over to the side of the bed. Slower than molasses, Dean slid to a standing position, still gripping tight to the railing. He teetered for a moment, regaining his balance, and resolutely tried to ignore the stabbing pain low in his belly.
Taking a tentative step, he grimaced. His legs were damn weak. It kind of pissed him off. Small, shuffling footsteps got him across the room. When he reached the crib he took a deep breath before leaning forward to peer inside. A star-shaped night light on the wall illuminated a perfect, chubby little baby wrapped in blankets. She was wearing footie pajamas, and her tiny covered feet peeked out from the pink blanket.
Gah… pink. That had to be Jodie’s doing.
Her cheeks were plump and full like a babies should be, and she had Dean’s pert little ski-slope nose, and his mouth with perfect little heart-shaped lips. Her hair was dark, though, and curly like Sammy’s. Her hands were big, too, with long delicate fingers.
Bet she’ll be tall like Sam. Amazon woman … have to beat the boys off her with a stick. Or better yet, just keep her locked up in Bobby’s safe room until she’s thirty.
“They’re green, you know? Her eyes.”
He jumped a little at Sam’s soft voice and turned to meet his gaze, still reclined in the chair.
“Yeah?”
Voice was still rough, but getting there. Sam smiled and stretched out a long arm, palm up, beckoning Dean to him.
“Yeah … shaped like mine, though. Come here.”
Reaching out to grasp Sam’s offered hand, he allowed himself to be carefully pulled into his brother’s lap. He tucked his face snug into Sam’s neck and wound his legs around his brother’s fleece covered ones. Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Dean’s torso and leaned forward to kiss his shoulder.
“Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Dean sighed into Sam’s warm skin.
“What happened?”
The younger man’s throat bobbed once before he began to speak.
“You’d lost a lot of blood and your body went into shock. Jodie called in some favors with a couple paramedics that she knows. They got you stabilized and out of danger … but then you just … wouldn’t wake up. Bobby and I figured that had more to do with the curse than anything else. This wasn’t exactly something you were supposed to survive, so … we tried everything we could think of. You just wouldn’t wake up.”
Dean hummed softly under his breath as Sam continued.
“Bobby figured it was something that you had to decide you would come out of. So we all just … took turns coming in and talking to you.”
“How long?”
Sam swallowed harshly, and his voice thickened with emotion.
“Almost three weeks.”
Damn, Sammy … that would have driven me crazy. I’m so sorry.
“You kept the name?”
Sam chuckled warmly and squeezed his arms a fraction.
“Yeah. I figured they would all three get a big kick out of it. I like it. Bobby’s lip damn near wibbled when I told him. It’s a good name. MaryJo Ellen Winchester. I can practically hear you screaming it the first time she scratches the Impala.”
Dean laughed and tucked his cold toes under Sam’s calf.
“Yeah well … good thing I was right about the girl thing. Jonathan Robert Castiel Winchester is just too much of a fucking mouthful.”
A deep boom of laughter echoed in the room when Sam voiced his amusement. Giving in to an urge, Dean brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his brother’s hair.
“I’m sorry for scaring you. For almost leaving again.”
Sam shook his head and grinned.
“It’s fine. You’re here now. We all are. We’re good.”
Dean answered his grin with one of his own before wrapping his arm around Sam’s chest and hugging him close.
“Yeah. We are.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
THE END
~*~*~*~*~*~
MASTERPOST