Fic: Catch You When You Fall (SPN, genfic)
Title: Catch You When You Fall
Author: Moosesal
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, Dean, and OCs -- genfic (but with mild references to Sam/Dean)
Prompt chosen: Dean with a baby
Word count: 1543
Note: This is a companion to my story Everything although it's not necessary to have read that. This is a future fic. Sarah, Jesse, and Johnny are Sam's children with his wife Lee Ann. The rest should be clear in the story.
You were there when Sarah was born, sitting in the waiting area with Johnny and Jesse until Sam came out smiling and said, "She's perfect." And she was perfect. Ten little fingers, ten little toes. Blue eyes so dark, they were nearly black. Calm and smiling all the time, crying only when she was sick. You were so excited and happy the nursery staff thought at first that you were the father smiling through the window, pointing her out to the twins.
Whenever you weren't working over the weekend, you'd call up Sam and Lee Ann and offer to watch the kids so they could have a night out. You'd spend most of the evening with Sarah in your arms, or tucked up against your shoulder. You'd invariably fall asleep on the couch with her on your chest, television turned low in the background.
When her six-month birthday approached, you had a job in the next state over. "Go," Sam had said. "It'll be fine. Lee Ann and I can handle it. Nothing happened to the boys, nothing's going to happen to Sarah."
"But Sammy --" you'd protested. What if ...?
"Relax, Dean. I called Ash, there've been no signs. No storms or anything else. It'll be fine."
"You're sure." It was half-question, half-statement and Sam had been. If he'd had the slightest concern, the vaguest notion, he would have told you to turn down the job. Instead he again told you to go.
The next three and half days were spent following a cheating husband, snapping pictures and taking notes. Divorce cases were the bread and butter of your investigative business. They paid the bills, put a roof over your head, and paid for rock salt and magical supplies for the nonpaying jobs you and Sam still took fairly regularly. They also reminded you why you were happy to be single and childless.
On the morning of the fourth day your cellphone rang. The screen showed that it was Sam, most likely calling to say the night had passed without incident. That your worries were unfounded.
"Mornin', Sammy."
"D-Dean." His voice shook; he was crying. "Dean, come home."
"Sam what happened?" You immediately went on alert, dropping the camera in the passenger seat of your rental and reaching for the key in the ignition. "Talk to me, Sammy."
"Lee Ann --" his voice broke off.
"Sammy!"
"Just ... please, Dean." One night, one phone call, one brother needing the other. Everything had changed.
When Sam pulled up in your driveway the next day, you weren't ready. Not for two seven-year-old boys who were mourning their mother. Not for Sarah to be passed to you once Sam came through the front door. Not for Sam to shut himself up in your room and stay there.
Three kids and a brother in shock left in your care for months to come. Overnight you became more than a brother and uncle. You became a father. There was no going back from that.
~~~~~~~~
Not that they didn't need you, but caring for the twins ended up being relatively easy. Mostly they took care of each other, especially during those first few months. And they understood what had happened and why they were living with you. So you sent them to school and made sure they did their homework. You packed lunches and cooked dinner and asked about their day. You were Uncle Dean, their dad was upstairs and would be down eventually.
With Sarah it was different.
Sam wouldn't touch her, wouldn't help with her. He was afraid and you were left on your own to remember how to take care of a baby. It wasn't like those evenings when you watched her while Sam and Lee Ann went out for dinner or a movie or just a quiet drive around town. This was twenty-four/seven. This was feeding her, changing her, rocking her to sleep. This was figuring out what was wrong when she started crying in the middle of the night for no obvious reason. Bits and pieces of the past came to the surface, waking you at night -- visions of your father putting Sam in your arms, of fire above his crib, of caring for him while your father looked lost and alone.
Just like then, you worked it out. Holding Sarah on your hip or on your chest with her head on your shoulder, you went about your days -- shuffling laundry from the washer to the dryer, checking e-mail and staying on top of work, slowly reshaping your life to fit around a family.
On difficult days, you'd sing Ozzy or Metallica to settle her down, or lay down with her on your chest and let the rhythm of your heartbeat soothe her. When those tricks failed you'd take her for a drive in the Impala and the rumble of the engine would lull her to sleep. Within a few months, she'd settled down and was responding to you as if she were your own. By then it was hard to remember that she wasn't.
She was just shy of one year old when she said her first word -- Dad. It broke your heart, but her smile mended it. When you realized that while Sam was in the room, she was definitely talking to you, it broke your heart again. You both tried to correct her, pointing to Sam and saying "Dad" then to yourself and saying "Dean." She just giggled. You were Dad. Sam was Sam.
You and Sam decided to let it go. It would work itself out. And in a few weeks it had. You were Dad, Sam was Papa. The two of you shook your heads, knowing what the other parents at the park would think. Not that it mattered to you and it wasn't like it would be the first time people had assumed you were something other than brothers. At one time you had been. You were slowly edging there again. But they didn't know that, not really.
~~~~~~~
On the anniversary of Lee Ann's death, you woke in the middle of the night to the sound of laughter coming from Sarah's room. You and Sam rose from bed and crossed the hall to see her favorite teddy bear hovering over her crib. She was smiling and giggling and talking gibberish to the bear.
"Sarah?" You slowly moved to the crib and leaned over the railing.
"Christo," Sam whispered behind you.
Nothing happened.
When she finally noticed you, the bear dropped into the crib. You leaned over and picked her up then turned to face Sam. There was a knowing look in his eyes before he broke your gaze and left the room, left you holding Sarah to your chest, rubbing circles on her back. You hummed to her while staring down at the teddy bear, until you were certain she was asleep again then lay her down in her crib. When you returned to your room Sam pretended to be asleep. You crawled in beside him and rested your hand on his back, grounding you both.
As the days went by you both watched her and didn't know what to do. She would make Cheerios float up to her mouth. She'd stack blocks into amazingly tall towers, only touching the blocks when she was ready to knock the tower down. You wondered about things like knives and guns. They were locked up -- had been since Sam and the kids first arrived -- but neither of you were really sure of the source or extent of her powers.
A few months after the teddy bear incident, Jesse yelled, "Dad! Dean!" from the living room. You ran from the kitchen, spaghetti sauce-dripping from the spoon still in your hand, as Sam ran in from his office. You both stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Sarah floating at the front window. This time, instead of going back to his office or up to the bedroom, Sam surprised you by smiling as he looked at you and said, "She's your child," with a grin and a shake of his head.
Huh? "Sam--"
"Look," Sam jerked his chin out the window. "And listen."
You moved up beside her, careful not to distract her. Her eyes were moving back and forth, following the cars driving by. She drew out the words "carrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" and "vrooooooooooom" as vehicles passed on the road outside. You cracked up laughing and distracted her, causing her to fall. But it was okay, you were there to catch her, to catch them all. You would be there to catch them for the rest of your life.
Author: Moosesal
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Sam, Dean, and OCs -- genfic (but with mild references to Sam/Dean)
Prompt chosen: Dean with a baby
Word count: 1543
Note: This is a companion to my story Everything although it's not necessary to have read that. This is a future fic. Sarah, Jesse, and Johnny are Sam's children with his wife Lee Ann. The rest should be clear in the story.
You were there when Sarah was born, sitting in the waiting area with Johnny and Jesse until Sam came out smiling and said, "She's perfect." And she was perfect. Ten little fingers, ten little toes. Blue eyes so dark, they were nearly black. Calm and smiling all the time, crying only when she was sick. You were so excited and happy the nursery staff thought at first that you were the father smiling through the window, pointing her out to the twins.
Whenever you weren't working over the weekend, you'd call up Sam and Lee Ann and offer to watch the kids so they could have a night out. You'd spend most of the evening with Sarah in your arms, or tucked up against your shoulder. You'd invariably fall asleep on the couch with her on your chest, television turned low in the background.
When her six-month birthday approached, you had a job in the next state over. "Go," Sam had said. "It'll be fine. Lee Ann and I can handle it. Nothing happened to the boys, nothing's going to happen to Sarah."
"But Sammy --" you'd protested. What if ...?
"Relax, Dean. I called Ash, there've been no signs. No storms or anything else. It'll be fine."
"You're sure." It was half-question, half-statement and Sam had been. If he'd had the slightest concern, the vaguest notion, he would have told you to turn down the job. Instead he again told you to go.
The next three and half days were spent following a cheating husband, snapping pictures and taking notes. Divorce cases were the bread and butter of your investigative business. They paid the bills, put a roof over your head, and paid for rock salt and magical supplies for the nonpaying jobs you and Sam still took fairly regularly. They also reminded you why you were happy to be single and childless.
On the morning of the fourth day your cellphone rang. The screen showed that it was Sam, most likely calling to say the night had passed without incident. That your worries were unfounded.
"Mornin', Sammy."
"D-Dean." His voice shook; he was crying. "Dean, come home."
"Sam what happened?" You immediately went on alert, dropping the camera in the passenger seat of your rental and reaching for the key in the ignition. "Talk to me, Sammy."
"Lee Ann --" his voice broke off.
"Sammy!"
"Just ... please, Dean." One night, one phone call, one brother needing the other. Everything had changed.
When Sam pulled up in your driveway the next day, you weren't ready. Not for two seven-year-old boys who were mourning their mother. Not for Sarah to be passed to you once Sam came through the front door. Not for Sam to shut himself up in your room and stay there.
Three kids and a brother in shock left in your care for months to come. Overnight you became more than a brother and uncle. You became a father. There was no going back from that.
~~~~~~~~
Not that they didn't need you, but caring for the twins ended up being relatively easy. Mostly they took care of each other, especially during those first few months. And they understood what had happened and why they were living with you. So you sent them to school and made sure they did their homework. You packed lunches and cooked dinner and asked about their day. You were Uncle Dean, their dad was upstairs and would be down eventually.
With Sarah it was different.
Sam wouldn't touch her, wouldn't help with her. He was afraid and you were left on your own to remember how to take care of a baby. It wasn't like those evenings when you watched her while Sam and Lee Ann went out for dinner or a movie or just a quiet drive around town. This was twenty-four/seven. This was feeding her, changing her, rocking her to sleep. This was figuring out what was wrong when she started crying in the middle of the night for no obvious reason. Bits and pieces of the past came to the surface, waking you at night -- visions of your father putting Sam in your arms, of fire above his crib, of caring for him while your father looked lost and alone.
Just like then, you worked it out. Holding Sarah on your hip or on your chest with her head on your shoulder, you went about your days -- shuffling laundry from the washer to the dryer, checking e-mail and staying on top of work, slowly reshaping your life to fit around a family.
On difficult days, you'd sing Ozzy or Metallica to settle her down, or lay down with her on your chest and let the rhythm of your heartbeat soothe her. When those tricks failed you'd take her for a drive in the Impala and the rumble of the engine would lull her to sleep. Within a few months, she'd settled down and was responding to you as if she were your own. By then it was hard to remember that she wasn't.
She was just shy of one year old when she said her first word -- Dad. It broke your heart, but her smile mended it. When you realized that while Sam was in the room, she was definitely talking to you, it broke your heart again. You both tried to correct her, pointing to Sam and saying "Dad" then to yourself and saying "Dean." She just giggled. You were Dad. Sam was Sam.
You and Sam decided to let it go. It would work itself out. And in a few weeks it had. You were Dad, Sam was Papa. The two of you shook your heads, knowing what the other parents at the park would think. Not that it mattered to you and it wasn't like it would be the first time people had assumed you were something other than brothers. At one time you had been. You were slowly edging there again. But they didn't know that, not really.
~~~~~~~
On the anniversary of Lee Ann's death, you woke in the middle of the night to the sound of laughter coming from Sarah's room. You and Sam rose from bed and crossed the hall to see her favorite teddy bear hovering over her crib. She was smiling and giggling and talking gibberish to the bear.
"Sarah?" You slowly moved to the crib and leaned over the railing.
"Christo," Sam whispered behind you.
Nothing happened.
When she finally noticed you, the bear dropped into the crib. You leaned over and picked her up then turned to face Sam. There was a knowing look in his eyes before he broke your gaze and left the room, left you holding Sarah to your chest, rubbing circles on her back. You hummed to her while staring down at the teddy bear, until you were certain she was asleep again then lay her down in her crib. When you returned to your room Sam pretended to be asleep. You crawled in beside him and rested your hand on his back, grounding you both.
As the days went by you both watched her and didn't know what to do. She would make Cheerios float up to her mouth. She'd stack blocks into amazingly tall towers, only touching the blocks when she was ready to knock the tower down. You wondered about things like knives and guns. They were locked up -- had been since Sam and the kids first arrived -- but neither of you were really sure of the source or extent of her powers.
A few months after the teddy bear incident, Jesse yelled, "Dad! Dean!" from the living room. You ran from the kitchen, spaghetti sauce-dripping from the spoon still in your hand, as Sam ran in from his office. You both stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Sarah floating at the front window. This time, instead of going back to his office or up to the bedroom, Sam surprised you by smiling as he looked at you and said, "She's your child," with a grin and a shake of his head.
Huh? "Sam--"
"Look," Sam jerked his chin out the window. "And listen."
You moved up beside her, careful not to distract her. Her eyes were moving back and forth, following the cars driving by. She drew out the words "carrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" and "vrooooooooooom" as vehicles passed on the road outside. You cracked up laughing and distracted her, causing her to fall. But it was okay, you were there to catch her, to catch them all. You would be there to catch them for the rest of your life.