Fic-One Foot In Front of the Other-Chapter Six-pg-13
Title: One Foot In Front of the Other-Chapter Six.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I do own Dennis and Mikey, so that's something.
Pairing: implied Sam/Dean
Rating: Pg-13 (does it ever change? lol)
Summary: Sammy left, but he had his reasons.
Warning: implied mpreg
Author's note: I think those that already hate Dennis, are going to like him even less.
Thanks to the wonderfully talented,
thelonejuliet, for always finding the time for my many typos.
Dean took a deep breath as he stood in front of the solid brown door, and tried not to think of the last time he was there. It hadn’t gone well, to say the least. He’d used a horrible tactic: bursting in, guns blazing (so to speak), accusations flying, anger unchecked. He hadn’t been able to help it; all he could think of was the fact that Sam was there…and so was his son. Their son - he had to keep correcting himself. He had a son, now. That little boy with the round cheeks, green eyes and blond hair was his.
And, Sam had kept him away.
Pushing those thoughts away, Dean rechecked the silver B-9 in the center of the door, and pressed the doorbell. It was still early, not even eight yet, but Dean was fairly sure Sam would be awake. He hoped.
When the door opened, Dean was met by red eyes and a pale face that told him Sam hadn’t been sleeping well.
“Sam.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, and Dean watched his jaw clench. His grip on the door frame tightened. “What, Dean?”
“Sam, we need to talk, okay.” Dean tried on his best disarming expression and tone.
The taller man’s features darkened. “Oh, so now you want to talk? You don’t still want to slam me against a wall?”
Dean ignored all of the crude remarks he could come up with in response to that and put his hands up in surrender, palms out. “Just talking.”
Sam contemplated this, for what seemed like forever, as he studied Dean, gauging his sincerity. Finally, he gave a small nod and stepped aside.
Dean strode into the comfortably lived-in living room with its worn sofa and chairs and scuffed wooden coffee table. Sam offered him coffee before disappearing into a bright and airy eat-in kitchen separated from the living room by a large wooden bar and two stools. He reemerged with two mugs, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the sloppy red paint that spelled out Daddy on the one Sam was sipping from. Dean sat on the sofa and sipped at the strong black brew, glad Sam hadn’t forgotten how he liked it, while Sam sat himself as far away as possible on the other side of the sofa.
Sam shot a quick glance in the direction of a hallway Dean was sure led to the bedrooms. “We can talk, but you better keep it down.”
Dean knew what he was saying: he didn’t want their son to know he was there.
“What’s his name, Sam?”
Sam blinked a few times, seemingly caught off guard. “Michael.” He swallowed and looked anywhere but into Dean’s eyes. “Michael Dean Winchester. Mikey for short.”
Dean sucked in air slowly, hoping to ease the pressure in his chest. “Dean, huh?”
He could feel a small smile ghosting his lips. Satisfaction flowed freely through his veins. His son. Michael Dean Winchester. He liked it. Most of all, he liked the four letters that were all him. But, the name of his child wasn’t all he was there for.
“Sam, you know I’m going to ask why.” Dean worked hard on keeping his tone neutral.
Sam looked up into his eyes, and Dean saw the struggle. He sighed and seemed to gather his thoughts.
“Dean, you’ve hunted all your life and I know it’s something you need to do. I couldn’t ask you to give all that up to raise a family.”
“Don’t you think that’s a choice I should have been able to make on my own?”
“What would you have chosen?”
Forgetting that he was supposed to be controlling himself and keeping quiet, Dean could feel his anger rising along with his voice. “Oh come on! You honestly think I wouldn’t have chosen you…and our baby?”
Sam was silent for a moment. “We’ll never know, I guess.”
Much as it angered him, Sam was right. They would never know. Dean would like to think he would have stood beside Sam and taken care of their baby, but he really just didn’t know.
“You’re right. There’s no way of knowing.” Dean sat up a little straighter. “Sam, I want you to tell me about it, all of it.” He held his breath; he wasn’t really sure if he was ready to hear this, but he had to know.
“I don’t know…at first I just thought I had the flu or something when I first got sick. But, then it didn’t go away and I just started getting worse. Nauseous all the time, dizzy, headaches. Then, I bought a test and it was positive. I just…I freaked, Dean. I was so sure you were going to leave me. So, I got on a bus.”
“So, you left me first?” Dean couldn’t help the sarcasm that managed to soak through.
Sam shot him a withering glance, but continued, “Somehow, I ended up here and used some cash I had saved up to get an apartment. I took some easy jobs around the town because I got tired really easily. And then I met Dennis.”
Dean gritted his teeth so hard it hurt and tried to act as if he didn’t notice Sam’s small smile. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Dennis was that goofball from the other night, and he really wished Sam had let him punch the guy right in the nose. He could feel himself getting pissed again. He needed to change the subject. The last thing Dean wanted was for Sam to kick him out again.
“Tell me about when Mikey was born.” He must have sounded more eager and forceful than he meant to because Sam’s eyes flickered up to his. He smiled at the memory and, Dean cursed the way it got harder to breathe when Sam did that.
“I was at work when I first started having pains, but they really weren’t all that painful so I ignored them. But as soon as I got home, my water broke and suddenly it was just like I couldn’t stand, it hurt so badly. I called Dennis and he took me to the hospital. By that time it was pretty much time to push. It seemed like forever but the doctor said it was only a couple of hours. Dennis said Mikey came out screaming. I don’t really remember, I was pretty out of it at that point.”
Dean saw red and took several deep breathes to calm himself. But no matter how calm he was, he couldn’t get rid the image of Dennis with Sam while he gave birth. Dennis was one of the first people to see his son, and that pissed Dean off to no end. Not only was he there for Mikey’s birth, but Dennis had been there for all the other milestones - potty training, first word, first step. Dean had missed it all, but he wasn’t going to miss anything else.
“Sam,” he waited until he Sam’s full attention, “I want to get to know Mikey. I’ve already missed too much.”
Sam looked as though he had been dreading this moment. “Dean, I really don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Dean had been sucker-punched in the stomach, he was sure. “What are you talking about? I’m his father.”
“This was one of the reasons I left in the first place. You can’t be in his life for one minute and off getting torn apart by werewolves the next. Mikey needs stability.”
Sam stood and headed for the kitchen. Dean followed. He grabbed Sam’s arm when he kept bustling around the kitchen, refusing to face his brother. “I’m here now, Sam.”
“But for how long?” was the quiet reply.
Dean sighed and released his grip. He glanced out of the window and down at the small busy street below. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Sam. The fact that you left and kept all this from me - kept Mikey from me - it hurts. But, I still love you, and I want to get to know my son.”
Sam shook his head sadly. “That’s why I wrote you that I didn’t want to be found. I knew how complicated this could get.”
“Since when is anything in our lives not complicated?” He stepped a bit closer. “But Sam, that stuff in your letter about us being wrong, that was a lie, right?”
Sam suddenly seemed very interested in the linoleum floor, and Dean was strangely encouraged by Sam’s silence. He gently tilted the other man’s face so that their eyes met. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t still love me, Sammy.”
The use of the nickname was not lost on either of them, and Sam visibly flinched.
“Dean, I think you should go.”
Dean wanted to protest. It was right on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want to push Sam too hard - not yet at least.
“Alright, okay.” At the door, he turned. “But I’ll be back, Sam.” He made sure it was clear he wasn’t giving up.
Dean was surprised by Sam’s small crooked grin. “Yeah, figured you might.”
( Please review, it makes me warm inside! )
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I do own Dennis and Mikey, so that's something.
Pairing: implied Sam/Dean
Rating: Pg-13 (does it ever change? lol)
Summary: Sammy left, but he had his reasons.
Warning: implied mpreg
Author's note: I think those that already hate Dennis, are going to like him even less.
Thanks to the wonderfully talented,
thelonejuliet, for always finding the time for my many typos.
Dean took a deep breath as he stood in front of the solid brown door, and tried not to think of the last time he was there. It hadn’t gone well, to say the least. He’d used a horrible tactic: bursting in, guns blazing (so to speak), accusations flying, anger unchecked. He hadn’t been able to help it; all he could think of was the fact that Sam was there…and so was his son. Their son - he had to keep correcting himself. He had a son, now. That little boy with the round cheeks, green eyes and blond hair was his.
And, Sam had kept him away.
Pushing those thoughts away, Dean rechecked the silver B-9 in the center of the door, and pressed the doorbell. It was still early, not even eight yet, but Dean was fairly sure Sam would be awake. He hoped.
When the door opened, Dean was met by red eyes and a pale face that told him Sam hadn’t been sleeping well.
“Sam.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, and Dean watched his jaw clench. His grip on the door frame tightened. “What, Dean?”
“Sam, we need to talk, okay.” Dean tried on his best disarming expression and tone.
The taller man’s features darkened. “Oh, so now you want to talk? You don’t still want to slam me against a wall?”
Dean ignored all of the crude remarks he could come up with in response to that and put his hands up in surrender, palms out. “Just talking.”
Sam contemplated this, for what seemed like forever, as he studied Dean, gauging his sincerity. Finally, he gave a small nod and stepped aside.
Dean strode into the comfortably lived-in living room with its worn sofa and chairs and scuffed wooden coffee table. Sam offered him coffee before disappearing into a bright and airy eat-in kitchen separated from the living room by a large wooden bar and two stools. He reemerged with two mugs, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the sloppy red paint that spelled out Daddy on the one Sam was sipping from. Dean sat on the sofa and sipped at the strong black brew, glad Sam hadn’t forgotten how he liked it, while Sam sat himself as far away as possible on the other side of the sofa.
Sam shot a quick glance in the direction of a hallway Dean was sure led to the bedrooms. “We can talk, but you better keep it down.”
Dean knew what he was saying: he didn’t want their son to know he was there.
“What’s his name, Sam?”
Sam blinked a few times, seemingly caught off guard. “Michael.” He swallowed and looked anywhere but into Dean’s eyes. “Michael Dean Winchester. Mikey for short.”
Dean sucked in air slowly, hoping to ease the pressure in his chest. “Dean, huh?”
He could feel a small smile ghosting his lips. Satisfaction flowed freely through his veins. His son. Michael Dean Winchester. He liked it. Most of all, he liked the four letters that were all him. But, the name of his child wasn’t all he was there for.
“Sam, you know I’m going to ask why.” Dean worked hard on keeping his tone neutral.
Sam looked up into his eyes, and Dean saw the struggle. He sighed and seemed to gather his thoughts.
“Dean, you’ve hunted all your life and I know it’s something you need to do. I couldn’t ask you to give all that up to raise a family.”
“Don’t you think that’s a choice I should have been able to make on my own?”
“What would you have chosen?”
Forgetting that he was supposed to be controlling himself and keeping quiet, Dean could feel his anger rising along with his voice. “Oh come on! You honestly think I wouldn’t have chosen you…and our baby?”
Sam was silent for a moment. “We’ll never know, I guess.”
Much as it angered him, Sam was right. They would never know. Dean would like to think he would have stood beside Sam and taken care of their baby, but he really just didn’t know.
“You’re right. There’s no way of knowing.” Dean sat up a little straighter. “Sam, I want you to tell me about it, all of it.” He held his breath; he wasn’t really sure if he was ready to hear this, but he had to know.
“I don’t know…at first I just thought I had the flu or something when I first got sick. But, then it didn’t go away and I just started getting worse. Nauseous all the time, dizzy, headaches. Then, I bought a test and it was positive. I just…I freaked, Dean. I was so sure you were going to leave me. So, I got on a bus.”
“So, you left me first?” Dean couldn’t help the sarcasm that managed to soak through.
Sam shot him a withering glance, but continued, “Somehow, I ended up here and used some cash I had saved up to get an apartment. I took some easy jobs around the town because I got tired really easily. And then I met Dennis.”
Dean gritted his teeth so hard it hurt and tried to act as if he didn’t notice Sam’s small smile. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Dennis was that goofball from the other night, and he really wished Sam had let him punch the guy right in the nose. He could feel himself getting pissed again. He needed to change the subject. The last thing Dean wanted was for Sam to kick him out again.
“Tell me about when Mikey was born.” He must have sounded more eager and forceful than he meant to because Sam’s eyes flickered up to his. He smiled at the memory and, Dean cursed the way it got harder to breathe when Sam did that.
“I was at work when I first started having pains, but they really weren’t all that painful so I ignored them. But as soon as I got home, my water broke and suddenly it was just like I couldn’t stand, it hurt so badly. I called Dennis and he took me to the hospital. By that time it was pretty much time to push. It seemed like forever but the doctor said it was only a couple of hours. Dennis said Mikey came out screaming. I don’t really remember, I was pretty out of it at that point.”
Dean saw red and took several deep breathes to calm himself. But no matter how calm he was, he couldn’t get rid the image of Dennis with Sam while he gave birth. Dennis was one of the first people to see his son, and that pissed Dean off to no end. Not only was he there for Mikey’s birth, but Dennis had been there for all the other milestones - potty training, first word, first step. Dean had missed it all, but he wasn’t going to miss anything else.
“Sam,” he waited until he Sam’s full attention, “I want to get to know Mikey. I’ve already missed too much.”
Sam looked as though he had been dreading this moment. “Dean, I really don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Dean had been sucker-punched in the stomach, he was sure. “What are you talking about? I’m his father.”
“This was one of the reasons I left in the first place. You can’t be in his life for one minute and off getting torn apart by werewolves the next. Mikey needs stability.”
Sam stood and headed for the kitchen. Dean followed. He grabbed Sam’s arm when he kept bustling around the kitchen, refusing to face his brother. “I’m here now, Sam.”
“But for how long?” was the quiet reply.
Dean sighed and released his grip. He glanced out of the window and down at the small busy street below. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Sam. The fact that you left and kept all this from me - kept Mikey from me - it hurts. But, I still love you, and I want to get to know my son.”
Sam shook his head sadly. “That’s why I wrote you that I didn’t want to be found. I knew how complicated this could get.”
“Since when is anything in our lives not complicated?” He stepped a bit closer. “But Sam, that stuff in your letter about us being wrong, that was a lie, right?”
Sam suddenly seemed very interested in the linoleum floor, and Dean was strangely encouraged by Sam’s silence. He gently tilted the other man’s face so that their eyes met. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t still love me, Sammy.”
The use of the nickname was not lost on either of them, and Sam visibly flinched.
“Dean, I think you should go.”
Dean wanted to protest. It was right on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want to push Sam too hard - not yet at least.
“Alright, okay.” At the door, he turned. “But I’ll be back, Sam.” He made sure it was clear he wasn’t giving up.
Dean was surprised by Sam’s small crooked grin. “Yeah, figured you might.”
( Please review, it makes me warm inside! )