fic: for i am but small
title: for i am but small
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: pg
warnings: vague mentions of mpreg
characters/pairings: Sam, Dean
word count: 607
notes: a companion to made my bed, lay me down. no worries, made my bed is getting finished, i just needed to get this out before i moved on to more Dean. a little awkward & entirely self indulgent (some of you even know why), but I don't care.
this is for izzy.
Sam slumps back into the armchair. He's wrung out, tired as hell after hours of worry and the helpless feeling of knowing there’s not a damn thing he can do. Can't imagine how much worse it must be for Dean.
He glances at the bed. His brother is heavy lidded, propped up on too many pillows, and even as Sam watches Dean fights a huge yawn.
"Get some sleep," Sam murmurs. He levers himself out of his chair and goes to his brother. Dean's two seconds away from dropping, but Sam's never seen him look so happy. And all because of the bundle of blankets resting in his arms. Sam reaches down, eases Dean's arms up just enough to cradle the baby - Dean's baby - in his hands.
"I've got him, man."
Dean tries to sit up, "But what if he..."
"I've got him." Sam settles the baby in the crook of his arm. Uses the other to gently press Dean back against the pillows. "Nothing's going to happen to him Dean, I swear. Just rest man, you need it."
He knows that if he'd tried that line at any other time, even mere hours before, Dean would've done his damnedest to kick Sam's ass. Right now though, Sam has the upper hand.
"You'll get me - " Dean starts, but Sam shakes his head.
"Bobby's got another bottle all ready in the kitchen. Me and this little dude are going to get something else to eat, right Jack?" Sam smiles down at the baby blinking at him from the cocoon of warm flannel. "I can handle this, Dean. We're gonna be fine."
Dean sighs and after one last look at his son, he closes his eyes.
Sam squeezes his brother's shoulder. He closes the door to the bedroom softly and carries the baby into the kitchen. Jack's next bottle is sitting in a pan of warm water on the table. Sam leans against Bobby's counter, tests the temperature of the milk on his wrist before coaxing Jack into taking it. Soon enough the only sound is the soft popping sounds of Jack nursing.
Sam's still tired, but he's used to it. He's spent months trying to take care of Dean. The baby. Though if he's brutally honest with himself, deep down Sam knows that in all that time he never really thought of ‘the baby’ as a separate person. As someone he could love, separately from his brother. None of it was Jack's fault. Jesus. But after everything he and Dean have been through, Jack was almost an afterthought - the result of what his brother had to sacrifice to bring Sam back.
It's always been Dean that Sam's worried about. The exhausted slump of his shoulders, the bruised look in his eyes, the lines of pain that seemed permanently etched into his face the last few weeks. It's always been Dean.
Until Jack cries.
It's not right after he's born, when Jack takes his first real breath. No, for Sam that meant the kid had a killer set of lungs. Was alive and telling the world about it. No, this was barely fifteen minutes afterwards when the baby gives another kind of cry that sends Bobby off to the kitchen for the first bottle of many. It was. Sam doesn't know how to describe it. Jack sounded miserable and unhappy and a switch in Sam's head, in his heart, just flips. And suddenly Sam knows that he will do anything for this baby. To keep him happy and safe. Anything and everything.
He never knew he could love another single person quite this much.
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: pg
warnings: vague mentions of mpreg
characters/pairings: Sam, Dean
word count: 607
notes: a companion to made my bed, lay me down. no worries, made my bed is getting finished, i just needed to get this out before i moved on to more Dean. a little awkward & entirely self indulgent (some of you even know why), but I don't care.
this is for izzy.
Sam slumps back into the armchair. He's wrung out, tired as hell after hours of worry and the helpless feeling of knowing there’s not a damn thing he can do. Can't imagine how much worse it must be for Dean.
He glances at the bed. His brother is heavy lidded, propped up on too many pillows, and even as Sam watches Dean fights a huge yawn.
"Get some sleep," Sam murmurs. He levers himself out of his chair and goes to his brother. Dean's two seconds away from dropping, but Sam's never seen him look so happy. And all because of the bundle of blankets resting in his arms. Sam reaches down, eases Dean's arms up just enough to cradle the baby - Dean's baby - in his hands.
"I've got him, man."
Dean tries to sit up, "But what if he..."
"I've got him." Sam settles the baby in the crook of his arm. Uses the other to gently press Dean back against the pillows. "Nothing's going to happen to him Dean, I swear. Just rest man, you need it."
He knows that if he'd tried that line at any other time, even mere hours before, Dean would've done his damnedest to kick Sam's ass. Right now though, Sam has the upper hand.
"You'll get me - " Dean starts, but Sam shakes his head.
"Bobby's got another bottle all ready in the kitchen. Me and this little dude are going to get something else to eat, right Jack?" Sam smiles down at the baby blinking at him from the cocoon of warm flannel. "I can handle this, Dean. We're gonna be fine."
Dean sighs and after one last look at his son, he closes his eyes.
Sam squeezes his brother's shoulder. He closes the door to the bedroom softly and carries the baby into the kitchen. Jack's next bottle is sitting in a pan of warm water on the table. Sam leans against Bobby's counter, tests the temperature of the milk on his wrist before coaxing Jack into taking it. Soon enough the only sound is the soft popping sounds of Jack nursing.
Sam's still tired, but he's used to it. He's spent months trying to take care of Dean. The baby. Though if he's brutally honest with himself, deep down Sam knows that in all that time he never really thought of ‘the baby’ as a separate person. As someone he could love, separately from his brother. None of it was Jack's fault. Jesus. But after everything he and Dean have been through, Jack was almost an afterthought - the result of what his brother had to sacrifice to bring Sam back.
It's always been Dean that Sam's worried about. The exhausted slump of his shoulders, the bruised look in his eyes, the lines of pain that seemed permanently etched into his face the last few weeks. It's always been Dean.
Until Jack cries.
It's not right after he's born, when Jack takes his first real breath. No, for Sam that meant the kid had a killer set of lungs. Was alive and telling the world about it. No, this was barely fifteen minutes afterwards when the baby gives another kind of cry that sends Bobby off to the kitchen for the first bottle of many. It was. Sam doesn't know how to describe it. Jack sounded miserable and unhappy and a switch in Sam's head, in his heart, just flips. And suddenly Sam knows that he will do anything for this baby. To keep him happy and safe. Anything and everything.
He never knew he could love another single person quite this much.