SPN fic: "Until It Sleeps." PG, gen, baby!fic.
I still kind of want to write "Dean wears a candy necklace and drives Sam crazy with it," or even "Sam contemplates buying Jess an engagement ring," but this is not either of those stories. Sorry.
Title: Until It Sleeps
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Jo, baby. No pairing (could be interpreted as slight Dean/Jo, if you read it through your 'shipper-tinted glasses).
Rating: PG
Summary: The first week she spends arguing with him as he urges her to go home; he loses every fight.
Word Count: ~800
Spoilers: None, other than Jo's existence.
Prompt/Challenge: "Jewelry" at spn_dailylife.
Notes/Warnings: Um. I almost feel like I should apologize for this fic. I don't know. It barely fits the prompt, and it sort of feels rough and unfinished to me, but... I still kind of like it. I hope somebody else will, too. Cross-posted at spn_dailylife. Betaed by the amazingly helpful emmademarais, but I didn't show it to her after the second draft, so it's not her fault if it's still no good. ;-) Title from Metallica.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm playing with them for fun, not profit.
Dean's not there when Jo shows up. He comes back to the motel room to find her sitting across from Sam, the two of them looking uncomfortable like they've been trying unsuccessfully to make polite conversation. He stops in the doorway, staring at her, and thinks he sees a flash of fear appear on her face before she tips her chin up, defiant.
He's surprised to see her, if only because he would have expected her to go to Ellen instead of them for help. She doesn't ask for it, but appearing on their doorstep eight months pregnant is all the request he needs. He nods a greeting and doesn't mention her naked ring finger.
The first week she spends arguing with him as he urges her to go home; he loses every fight. She's as stubborn as he is and he can't find it in himself to manhandle a pregnant woman. He can't force her into the car, he can't shut her outside. She's got him wrapped around her little finger, because kids get to him and mothers get to him, and she knows it.
Dean plumps her pillows and makes her tea and she thanks him and tells him he'd make a good husband if he wasn't such an asshole most of the time. Sam calls him whipped the first time Dean goes out to buy her ice cream in the middle of the night. Dean rests it on the back of his neck when he gets back and Sam's quiet after that.
When it's time, he tosses Sam the keys and rides with Jo in the backseat, letting her clutch his hand and trying not to be shaken by her screams of pain every time a contraction hits. He's not sure he could handle it if she actually gave birth in his car, but he tries to steel himself for it just in case. Her grip on his hand never lessens, and he wraps his free arm around her, trying to soothe her with soft words. Her face remains twisted with fear and pain.
The people at the hospital see him hovering and assume the baby's his; they give him forms to fill out before he can protest, but they don't seem to care much when he insists he doesn't know half the information they're looking for. After a few hours he starts to worry--how long can a baby take to come out, anyway? The nurses assure him it won't be much longer, Jo's a lucky girl. Some women, they tell him, are in labor all day and night. Dean flinches sympathetically at the prospect and wonders at the women who do this more than once.
Another hour passes and someone comes to tell them it's a healthy boy and that Jo is fine. Dean goes to see her; she looks tired and maybe a little drugged, her eyes glassy and wide, but she gives him a small smile when he comes in and nods when he asks if she's okay. The baby is lying on her chest, impossibly small and reddish against her pale skin, eyes shut tight and a tuft of dark hair poking out from under his cap. He doesn't look like Jo. He doesn't look like anything. Just a baby.
When they take her home to the double-room they've booked she goes right to sleep, looking too young with the baby boy next to her on the bed, her arm curled protectively around him, matching hospital bracelets lined up. Dean watches them, and Sam joins him for a while, a silent promise in the air between them that nothing will happen on our watch. When the baby wakes up crying and Jo lifts her shirt to feed him, Sam stammers a quick goodnight and flees to the other room. Dean just turns his back, suddenly interested in the wallpaper pattern. Jo tells him she doesn't care, but he doesn't turn around to pick up his watch until he hears them settle into sleep again.
The next day Jo lets him hold the kid, and he takes him from her carefully, eyes meeting the baby's deep blue ones curiously. The baby hits out and his arm catches on Dean's necklace, and he frowns and untangles the tiny fist. Jo constantly reminds him to support the neck until finally he says, with a pointed look at Sam, that he has held a baby before, thanks, and he knows what to do. She laughs at him for it and he doesn't care; he couldn't tell if she was happy before, but now she's staring at him, at the baby in his arms, with a look of wonder and a smile on her face. He smiles back.
Title: Until It Sleeps
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Jo, baby. No pairing (could be interpreted as slight Dean/Jo, if you read it through your 'shipper-tinted glasses).
Rating: PG
Summary: The first week she spends arguing with him as he urges her to go home; he loses every fight.
Word Count: ~800
Spoilers: None, other than Jo's existence.
Prompt/Challenge: "Jewelry" at spn_dailylife.
Notes/Warnings: Um. I almost feel like I should apologize for this fic. I don't know. It barely fits the prompt, and it sort of feels rough and unfinished to me, but... I still kind of like it. I hope somebody else will, too. Cross-posted at spn_dailylife. Betaed by the amazingly helpful emmademarais, but I didn't show it to her after the second draft, so it's not her fault if it's still no good. ;-) Title from Metallica.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm playing with them for fun, not profit.
Dean's not there when Jo shows up. He comes back to the motel room to find her sitting across from Sam, the two of them looking uncomfortable like they've been trying unsuccessfully to make polite conversation. He stops in the doorway, staring at her, and thinks he sees a flash of fear appear on her face before she tips her chin up, defiant.
He's surprised to see her, if only because he would have expected her to go to Ellen instead of them for help. She doesn't ask for it, but appearing on their doorstep eight months pregnant is all the request he needs. He nods a greeting and doesn't mention her naked ring finger.
The first week she spends arguing with him as he urges her to go home; he loses every fight. She's as stubborn as he is and he can't find it in himself to manhandle a pregnant woman. He can't force her into the car, he can't shut her outside. She's got him wrapped around her little finger, because kids get to him and mothers get to him, and she knows it.
Dean plumps her pillows and makes her tea and she thanks him and tells him he'd make a good husband if he wasn't such an asshole most of the time. Sam calls him whipped the first time Dean goes out to buy her ice cream in the middle of the night. Dean rests it on the back of his neck when he gets back and Sam's quiet after that.
When it's time, he tosses Sam the keys and rides with Jo in the backseat, letting her clutch his hand and trying not to be shaken by her screams of pain every time a contraction hits. He's not sure he could handle it if she actually gave birth in his car, but he tries to steel himself for it just in case. Her grip on his hand never lessens, and he wraps his free arm around her, trying to soothe her with soft words. Her face remains twisted with fear and pain.
The people at the hospital see him hovering and assume the baby's his; they give him forms to fill out before he can protest, but they don't seem to care much when he insists he doesn't know half the information they're looking for. After a few hours he starts to worry--how long can a baby take to come out, anyway? The nurses assure him it won't be much longer, Jo's a lucky girl. Some women, they tell him, are in labor all day and night. Dean flinches sympathetically at the prospect and wonders at the women who do this more than once.
Another hour passes and someone comes to tell them it's a healthy boy and that Jo is fine. Dean goes to see her; she looks tired and maybe a little drugged, her eyes glassy and wide, but she gives him a small smile when he comes in and nods when he asks if she's okay. The baby is lying on her chest, impossibly small and reddish against her pale skin, eyes shut tight and a tuft of dark hair poking out from under his cap. He doesn't look like Jo. He doesn't look like anything. Just a baby.
When they take her home to the double-room they've booked she goes right to sleep, looking too young with the baby boy next to her on the bed, her arm curled protectively around him, matching hospital bracelets lined up. Dean watches them, and Sam joins him for a while, a silent promise in the air between them that nothing will happen on our watch. When the baby wakes up crying and Jo lifts her shirt to feed him, Sam stammers a quick goodnight and flees to the other room. Dean just turns his back, suddenly interested in the wallpaper pattern. Jo tells him she doesn't care, but he doesn't turn around to pick up his watch until he hears them settle into sleep again.
The next day Jo lets him hold the kid, and he takes him from her carefully, eyes meeting the baby's deep blue ones curiously. The baby hits out and his arm catches on Dean's necklace, and he frowns and untangles the tiny fist. Jo constantly reminds him to support the neck until finally he says, with a pointed look at Sam, that he has held a baby before, thanks, and he knows what to do. She laughs at him for it and he doesn't care; he couldn't tell if she was happy before, but now she's staring at him, at the baby in his arms, with a look of wonder and a smile on her face. He smiles back.