New SPN fic - baaaaaaaaaaabyfic 6
Babyfic!
This is for trollprincess who wanted: Dean's reaction to a big first, like first word or first steps or something and this is, uhm, *kind of* like that. But slightly not. And she wanted wincest and this really isn't.
SIGH. *loses*
However! I already have the next two parts of the babyfic plotted out, and the next one is wincest for sure, with the one following that, uhm, well. Let's just say that the one following that was one a lot of people requested and should be LOTS of fun. MOO HA HA.
Also, I didnt really want to name these all, but I did go back and give them all Friends type titles: the one where they find her, the one where they name her, etc. So that makes this one the one where she talks.
Thanks to my Lindsay for the beta, as usual. I love you, baby!!
Title - the one where she talks
Pairing - none
Rating - babyfic, you pervs
Word Count - 1300
The rest of the babyfic universe can be found under the babyfic tag.
Dean’s lost it. That’s the only explanation Sam can come up with that makes any sense.
“Dean.” Sam tries to make his voice sound as calm and normal as possible. The way Dean is grinning like a maniac and holding Melissa in the air, waving her around like a trophy is making that kind of hard, though. “She didn’t say anything.”
“Bullshit, Sammy. You didn’t hear her, I did.” Dean winces at his own words before glancing down at the smiling baby in his arms. “Sorry, momma. Daddy’s got a potty mouth sometimes.”
Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to his laptop. Cows had been disappearing from various farms in a town in Iowa every sixty days on the full moon. Sam taps the screen to get Dean’s attention. “We should probably take a look at this.”
Dean nods his head distractedly and sits on the corner of the bed. They’d been in Memphis for a few weeks and Sam was getting twitchy. Where he'd never minded staying in one place before, now it bothered him, niggling in his brain every time he tried to sleep that they needed to go, keep moving, not stay in one place long enough for anyone to find them. To find Melissa. She was theirs, no matter how they got her, and Sam wasn’t going to make it easy for anything to latch onto any of them.
“We can do that, Sam,” Dean says. He bounces Melissa on his knee and she gurgles. Drool is running down her chin and onto the ruffled, black t-shirt and jeans Dean had bought her the last town they stopped in.
“Now come on, Liss,” Dean croons, tucking her in the curve of his arm. Her blonde hair fans out against the sleeve of Dean’s green flannel shirt, and Sam can’t help but smile at the picture they make. “Say it again for Uncle Sammy. Say da da like you did before.”
Melissa gurgles and shoves her entire fist in her mouth. Dean scowls and Sam just laughs, spinning his chair around to save the article he’d been reading and write down the town name on the back of a Chinese food menu lying on the desk. If they hit the road after dinner and drove through the night, they could be in Iowa by morning.
“Right, Dean.” Sam shakes his head. Melissa is smart, but no baby talks at eight months old. Dean’s either hearing things or going crazy, neither of which would surprise Sam in the slightest. “Next you’ll tell me you saw her walking across the room to put herself to bed.”
Sam isn’t surprised at the pillow that comes flying across the room to hit him in the back of the head. “You suck, Uncle Sammy,” he hears in what he thinks of as Dean’s Melissa voice.
When Sam turns to look over his shoulder, Dean’s holding the baby in front of his face, guiding her arm out in a punch. Dean’s entirely too fond of this move. Sam honestly thinks that the baby’s made his brother lose his mind. It’s the only explanation he can come up with. “Just because you were stupid and didn’t talk till you were eight, doesn’t mean that I’m a dumbass too!”
Sam huffs and spins back around, banging furiously on the keys. “Maybe if you shut up once in your life, I’d’ve talked sooner, Dean,” he mumbles. Dean being a dick is normal, but using the baby to mock him? That’s low. “You ever think of that?”
From behind him Sam can hear Dean laugh and the baby giggle.
So they’re both ganging up on him now. Terrific.
*
Dean agrees that they should leave right after dinner, so they put Melissa in her playpen with a few toys and zip around the room, packing bags and cleaning all the toiletries out of the bathroom.
Sam’s twitchy. Restless. It’s funny how him and Dean have almost switched personalities; Dean content to stay in one place longer and make a home base, and Sam always eager to get up, get moving, keep going until they find the evil out there and kill it, making everything safer for Melissa. For all of them.
He doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving until he feels Dean’s hand, strong and warm on the back of his neck. “Hey.” Dean’s voice is low. “You okay? You froze there for a minute.”
Sam curls his fingers around the t-shirt in his hand, before stuffing it into his duffel and yanking the zipper closed. “M’fine.” He nods, and Dean’s fingers slip, hand heavy and rough against the top of his shoulder. He turns and gives his brother a small smile. “Just ready to get going.”
Dean squeezes his shoulder and nods, before pulling his hand away. “Then let’s hit the road.”
They finish packing within a few minutes. Across the room Melissa’s watching them carefully, banging her purple elephant against the bottom of the playpen to get their attention. Dean goes over to pick her up and blows raspberries against the side of her neck, making her squeal in delight and kick her feet hard against his chest.
Dean laughs, then puts her back down before grabbing his jacket from the bed. “Man, she’s strong.” He’s rubbing just over his breastbone, and Sam looks from the baby, up to his brother, then back down again.
His family, and god, he’d do anything to keep them safe.
“I’m gonna head out and warm the car up.” Sam can hear Dean’s keys jingling, and he shakes his head again. He’s got to snap out of it. Zoning out every ten minutes when they’re trying to drive seven hundred miles won’t be a good thing.
The door closes behind Dean, and Sam can hear the familiar click-click-rumble of the Impala’s engine turning over. He grabs his bag from the bed and drops it on the floor by the doorway, taking a last scan of the room before they head out.
The sight of the purple elephant flying across the room catches Sam’s eye. He looks down at the crib, where Melissa is staring at the door of the room, doing something which can only be called pouting, and man, Sam cannot believe an eight month old is capable of managing as pissed off of a look as she is.
Sam bends down to pick her up, his forehead wrinkled in worry. “What, baby? What’s wrong?”
The baby curls against Sam’s chest, her head soft and small in the palm of his hand. She sniffles and stares at the door, and goddamn, if she doesn’t whimper something which sounds a hell of a lot like da da.
Sam stares. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Melissa whimpers and stretches in his arms, trying to get down onto the floor. “Da da,” she says, again, and Sam can’t help it. No matter how many times Dean’s bitched at him to watch his mouth around the baby, Sam feels his jaw fall open and whispers, “Holy shit.”
The door opens, and Dean walks in, blowing into his hands. “Cold out there, man. We better bundle her up before we head out.” It takes him a minute, but Dean finally notices the grin splitting Sam’s face in half. “What the hell are you grinning at?”
Sam looks down at Melissa, who’s smiling and happy again, and he can’t help it. He laughs so hard he has to hand the baby to his brother who’s all too happy to take her.
“Nothing, Dean,” Sam says, because honestly, is he going to let Dean off the hook that easy? Sam figures he’s got a few more days before she says anything in front of the both of them, and having new fodder to mock Dean about is always a good thing. “Nothing at all.”
-end-
This is for trollprincess who wanted: Dean's reaction to a big first, like first word or first steps or something and this is, uhm, *kind of* like that. But slightly not. And she wanted wincest and this really isn't.
SIGH. *loses*
However! I already have the next two parts of the babyfic plotted out, and the next one is wincest for sure, with the one following that, uhm, well. Let's just say that the one following that was one a lot of people requested and should be LOTS of fun. MOO HA HA.
Also, I didnt really want to name these all, but I did go back and give them all Friends type titles: the one where they find her, the one where they name her, etc. So that makes this one the one where she talks.
Thanks to my Lindsay for the beta, as usual. I love you, baby!!
Title - the one where she talks
Pairing - none
Rating - babyfic, you pervs
Word Count - 1300
The rest of the babyfic universe can be found under the babyfic tag.
Dean’s lost it. That’s the only explanation Sam can come up with that makes any sense.
“Dean.” Sam tries to make his voice sound as calm and normal as possible. The way Dean is grinning like a maniac and holding Melissa in the air, waving her around like a trophy is making that kind of hard, though. “She didn’t say anything.”
“Bullshit, Sammy. You didn’t hear her, I did.” Dean winces at his own words before glancing down at the smiling baby in his arms. “Sorry, momma. Daddy’s got a potty mouth sometimes.”
Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to his laptop. Cows had been disappearing from various farms in a town in Iowa every sixty days on the full moon. Sam taps the screen to get Dean’s attention. “We should probably take a look at this.”
Dean nods his head distractedly and sits on the corner of the bed. They’d been in Memphis for a few weeks and Sam was getting twitchy. Where he'd never minded staying in one place before, now it bothered him, niggling in his brain every time he tried to sleep that they needed to go, keep moving, not stay in one place long enough for anyone to find them. To find Melissa. She was theirs, no matter how they got her, and Sam wasn’t going to make it easy for anything to latch onto any of them.
“We can do that, Sam,” Dean says. He bounces Melissa on his knee and she gurgles. Drool is running down her chin and onto the ruffled, black t-shirt and jeans Dean had bought her the last town they stopped in.
“Now come on, Liss,” Dean croons, tucking her in the curve of his arm. Her blonde hair fans out against the sleeve of Dean’s green flannel shirt, and Sam can’t help but smile at the picture they make. “Say it again for Uncle Sammy. Say da da like you did before.”
Melissa gurgles and shoves her entire fist in her mouth. Dean scowls and Sam just laughs, spinning his chair around to save the article he’d been reading and write down the town name on the back of a Chinese food menu lying on the desk. If they hit the road after dinner and drove through the night, they could be in Iowa by morning.
“Right, Dean.” Sam shakes his head. Melissa is smart, but no baby talks at eight months old. Dean’s either hearing things or going crazy, neither of which would surprise Sam in the slightest. “Next you’ll tell me you saw her walking across the room to put herself to bed.”
Sam isn’t surprised at the pillow that comes flying across the room to hit him in the back of the head. “You suck, Uncle Sammy,” he hears in what he thinks of as Dean’s Melissa voice.
When Sam turns to look over his shoulder, Dean’s holding the baby in front of his face, guiding her arm out in a punch. Dean’s entirely too fond of this move. Sam honestly thinks that the baby’s made his brother lose his mind. It’s the only explanation he can come up with. “Just because you were stupid and didn’t talk till you were eight, doesn’t mean that I’m a dumbass too!”
Sam huffs and spins back around, banging furiously on the keys. “Maybe if you shut up once in your life, I’d’ve talked sooner, Dean,” he mumbles. Dean being a dick is normal, but using the baby to mock him? That’s low. “You ever think of that?”
From behind him Sam can hear Dean laugh and the baby giggle.
So they’re both ganging up on him now. Terrific.
*
Dean agrees that they should leave right after dinner, so they put Melissa in her playpen with a few toys and zip around the room, packing bags and cleaning all the toiletries out of the bathroom.
Sam’s twitchy. Restless. It’s funny how him and Dean have almost switched personalities; Dean content to stay in one place longer and make a home base, and Sam always eager to get up, get moving, keep going until they find the evil out there and kill it, making everything safer for Melissa. For all of them.
He doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving until he feels Dean’s hand, strong and warm on the back of his neck. “Hey.” Dean’s voice is low. “You okay? You froze there for a minute.”
Sam curls his fingers around the t-shirt in his hand, before stuffing it into his duffel and yanking the zipper closed. “M’fine.” He nods, and Dean’s fingers slip, hand heavy and rough against the top of his shoulder. He turns and gives his brother a small smile. “Just ready to get going.”
Dean squeezes his shoulder and nods, before pulling his hand away. “Then let’s hit the road.”
They finish packing within a few minutes. Across the room Melissa’s watching them carefully, banging her purple elephant against the bottom of the playpen to get their attention. Dean goes over to pick her up and blows raspberries against the side of her neck, making her squeal in delight and kick her feet hard against his chest.
Dean laughs, then puts her back down before grabbing his jacket from the bed. “Man, she’s strong.” He’s rubbing just over his breastbone, and Sam looks from the baby, up to his brother, then back down again.
His family, and god, he’d do anything to keep them safe.
“I’m gonna head out and warm the car up.” Sam can hear Dean’s keys jingling, and he shakes his head again. He’s got to snap out of it. Zoning out every ten minutes when they’re trying to drive seven hundred miles won’t be a good thing.
The door closes behind Dean, and Sam can hear the familiar click-click-rumble of the Impala’s engine turning over. He grabs his bag from the bed and drops it on the floor by the doorway, taking a last scan of the room before they head out.
The sight of the purple elephant flying across the room catches Sam’s eye. He looks down at the crib, where Melissa is staring at the door of the room, doing something which can only be called pouting, and man, Sam cannot believe an eight month old is capable of managing as pissed off of a look as she is.
Sam bends down to pick her up, his forehead wrinkled in worry. “What, baby? What’s wrong?”
The baby curls against Sam’s chest, her head soft and small in the palm of his hand. She sniffles and stares at the door, and goddamn, if she doesn’t whimper something which sounds a hell of a lot like da da.
Sam stares. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Melissa whimpers and stretches in his arms, trying to get down onto the floor. “Da da,” she says, again, and Sam can’t help it. No matter how many times Dean’s bitched at him to watch his mouth around the baby, Sam feels his jaw fall open and whispers, “Holy shit.”
The door opens, and Dean walks in, blowing into his hands. “Cold out there, man. We better bundle her up before we head out.” It takes him a minute, but Dean finally notices the grin splitting Sam’s face in half. “What the hell are you grinning at?”
Sam looks down at Melissa, who’s smiling and happy again, and he can’t help it. He laughs so hard he has to hand the baby to his brother who’s all too happy to take her.
“Nothing, Dean,” Sam says, because honestly, is he going to let Dean off the hook that easy? Sam figures he’s got a few more days before she says anything in front of the both of them, and having new fodder to mock Dean about is always a good thing. “Nothing at all.”
-end-