Fic-One Foot In Front of the Other-Chapter 9
Title: One Foot In Front of the Other- Chapter Nine
Disclaimer: Not mine, be nice.
Rating: relatively soft R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Dean finally finds out what's been bugging Sam.
Warnings: implied mpreg, extremely mild m/m sexing.
A/N: Unbeta'd. Sorry. I just really wanted to get this out. It had been forever since the last time I updated. Sorry about that. RealLife tried to take control.
“Daddy, is De gonna live with us forever?” Mikey asked from his spot on the floor where he lay coloring in his favorite coloring book.
Sam looked up from his ironing in surprise. “I don’t know about forever, but he’s gonna be here until his arm is better, remember?”
Mikey frowned and colored in the blonde hair of a little boy. “Why did the bad man hurt De’s arm? Did De call him a mean name?”
“No, De didn’t do anything wrong. You know how when you’re mad or sad about something I tell you to talk to me about it? Well, the bad man was mad, but he didn’t talk to anyone. Instead he hurt De’s arm, which was wrong. Does that make sense?”
Mikey looked up and scrunched his nose. “I think so, Daddy.”
Mikey seemed to accept this and went on about coloring the little boy’s jeans. He silently considered the various shades of blue spread out around him before selecting one, scrutinizing it in the morning sunlight. He would then shake his head in disappointment, replacing the reject Crayola back on the floor to try another until he was satisfied.
Sam watched him for a few moments, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud at his overly critical son. He knew for sure Dean would claim Mikey had inherited that quality from Sam.
Finished ironing his shirt for Monday, he carefully hung it in his closet.
“How about I make some pancakes?”
Mikey beamed at him and nodded eagerly.
“Okay, you finish coloring and try to stay quiet because De’s still asleep in the other room.”
“Okay Daddy.” Mikey mumbled; already back to concentrating on his picture.
Sam tiptoed past the closed door to the spare bedroom where he could hear Dean’s muffled snores and fought the urge to sneak a peek. In the kitchen Sam gathered all of his ingredients and supplies.
He was mixing the gooey batter when strong arms came around his waist and a cold nose was nuzzled against his neck, causing him to start.
“Damnit, Dean,” he said with little heat.
Dean’s chuckle was muffled by Sam’s skin. “Whatcha making, woman?”
Sam shimmied his shoulders, trying to buck Dean off. “Get off me.”
But it was said with little conviction, causing Dean to press warm sloppy kisses on the spot where the back of Sam’s neck met his shoulder.
“Dean,” Sam whined, but his head dropped forward and he let out a shuddering breath when Dean began sucking. Spurred by Sam’s sound effects, Dean smirked and turned him around. He snatched the mixing bowl from his hands and placed it on the counter. His arms went back around Sam’s waist, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Capturing Sam’s mouth, Dean wasted no time in delving in, tongue sweeping through. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth, his hands clutching desperately to the sides of Dean’s shirt. Dean nudged him back against the counter, pressing his achingly hard arousal against Sam’s. Dean growled at the contact and reached down to cup the taller man.
Sam gasped, his eyes snapping open. “Dean…wait.”
Dean ignored him, one hand pushing up Sam’s shirt.
Sam whimpered as Dean’s cool hands skimmed over his torso, then growled in frustration. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and his good shoulder, holding him back a little.
“Stop.”
“What, damnit,” Dean snapped.
Sam huffed and slid from between Dean and the counter. He turned back to his batter, fingers trembling around the spoon. “We can’t do this in my kitchen.”
Dean snorted and leaned back against the refrigerator. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it a minute ago.”
“I know, but Mikey’s right in the other room and he’s waiting for his breakfast.”
“Seriously Sam, that’s the only reason you threw cold water on all that lovely stuff we were just getting into?” Dean questioned.
“Yeah.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Right, whatever.”
Spinning around, Sam fixed him with a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that ever since that day at the hospital- since I’ve been staying here- whenever I try to take things a step further than quick kisses, you shoot me down with some lame ass excuse instead of actually talking to me and telling me what the problem is.”
Sam gritted his teeth and flipped over his first batch. “There is no problem, Dean.”
Dean threw up his hands in frustration and spun on his heel, slipping on his boots at the front door.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Sam flinched when the door slammed shut.
.oOo
“Are you sure it’s no trouble?” Sam buckled a drowsy Mikey into his booster seat and quietly closed the door.
Dennis grinned down at him. “Are you kidding? The kid’ll be knocked out for at least another hour or two. And then we’re going to see a movie.”
Sam leaned back against the car door with sigh. “Thanks again.”
“It’s really no problem.” He studied his friend for a moment. “You look completely strung out.”
Sam averted his eyes, “I’m fine.”
Dennis raised a dark brow in his knowing fashion. “That why you’ve been crying?”
“Dennis I really don’t-”
“Really don’t want to talk about it, yes I know.” He interrupted, smiling. “This is me butting out.” Tilting down, he kissed Sam’s forehead.
Sam smiled up at him. “Thanks Den, for this.”
Dennis opened the driver’s side door. “Hope everything works out.” He waggled his eyes brows suggestively and drove off.
.oOo.
Dean drove for a few hours outside of town just enjoying the shaded woods and the breeze whipping his short hair before finally turning around and heading back to Hopewell. He stopped at a gas station/auto body shop just outside of town to refill.
Once again cursing New Jersey for having suck a stupid law on pumping gas, he glared at the young man while he stuck the nozzle in the tank.
The guy, about Sam’s age with white blonde hair and blue eyes, started up a conversation.
“Awesome car. Just passing through, are ya?”
“No,” Dean responded shortly.
“Oh?” This seemed to perk the kid’s interest. “Really? You new here?” He forged ahead, not waiting for Dean’s response. “Well, welcome. I gotta tell you, this town’s pretty great- hardly ever any problems. In fact, a few weeks ago was the first criminal problem we’ve had in a while,” he said as he replaced the nozzle to the pump. “Some guy got shot downtown.”
Dean swallowed. “That-that’s a shame.” He shoved some money in the guy’s hand and hopped in the car.
Dean drove to Sam’s apartment (their apartment?) trying to ignore the dull ache creeping into his shoulder. He used the key Sam copied for him to enter.
The only light in the living room was the bright blue blow of the television. Sam sat on the floor in front of it, a leg drawn up to his chest and one of his cheeks resting against his knee while he watched. He looked up when Dean entered.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” Dean grunted as he sat down next to him. Glancing back at the quiet hallway, Dean frowned. “Where’s Mikey?”
“With Dennis.”
“Oh okay.”
They were silent for a while, pretending to watch while the current Bachelor wined and dined a group of giggling women.
“Man, I can’t believe they actually put this crap on TV,” Dean whined.
Sam sighed and aimed the remote, switching the sound to mute then turned his body to face Dean.
“I guess we should talk about this.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “About what? We can’t really do anything about the show, even though I think that one girl may need an exorcism right quick,”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Not that, Dean. This morning.”
“Oh right, that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Really,” Dean replied flatly. “That’s nice, Sam, but it doesn’t tell me what’s wrong with you.”
Sighing, Sam pulled his other leg up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I’m scared, Dean.”
Dean immediately tensed. “Of what exactly?”
Seam took a deep breath, his eyes wandering around the room. “I don’t know…of getting involved with you, I guess.”
Dean’s browns lowered. “I don’t follow.”
Sam swallowed hard. “I love you, Dean. I love you so much. And I know that Mikey already loves you, too. But that’s what scares me. He’s already so attacked to you. If something happened to you, he’d be devastated.”
“You trying to get rid of me, Sammy?” Dean chucked nervously.
Sam shook his head. “No, but anything can happen on a hunt,” he muttered miserably.
“Oh,” Dean exhaled as everything fell into place. “So you’ve been holding back because of what might happen if I go on a hunt?”
Sam seemed to curl even tighter into himself. “It isn’t a matter of if, Dean- it’s when.”
Dean was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, he scooted over so that they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.
Grabbing Sam’s hand, he laced their fingers together. “Look, Sam. I don’t know what might happen, I just…I’m here now, Sammy.” Hand moving up to cup Sam’s cheek, he made sure the clouded hazel orbs were connecting with his green ones. “And I would never- ever do anything to hurt you or Mikey.”
Sam’s eyes dropped. “I know not intentionally.”
Dean let out a frustrated growl and leaned forward, capturing Sam’s moth. Sam responded almost immediately, tensing and trying to pull away. Dean tightened his hold around his waist.
“No Sam. Just relax. Just let it happen; let me do this.” He continued his attack on Sam’s rosy lips, tongues clashing. His hands slid up Sam’s back, eliciting tiny shivers.
Dean let their mouths slip apart, moving down to suck and lick at the exposed collarbone. Sam bit his lip, his fingernails digging into Sean’s shoulders. Groaning, he pulled Dean back up so their lips were pressed together again.
Dean pulled back, panting. He laughed when Sam blinked at him owlishly, pupils blown.
“Okay Sammy,” Dean panted. “To the bedroom.”
Sam bounced back on the bed, Dean falling on top of him.
“Too many clothes,” Dean mumbled.
Somehow he managed to rid them both of their clothes without his lips ever leaving Sam’s body.
Sam spent the next few hours becoming reacquainted with the magic of Dean’s mouth and hands. By the time Dean slowly eased into him, he was completely worn out.
His back arched up off the bed when Dean go the angle right.
“Easy, baby,” Dean soothed. “Just relax.”
Sam’s hips bucked up to meet each of Dean’s thrusts. Neither was capable of words, reduced to communication through grunts, groans, and moans until Dean’s entire body tensed and he cried Sam’s name, completely draining himself in the other man. Dean’s release pushed Sam over the edge into his own and he twined his legs around Dean’s waist and whimpered desperately.
Dean collapsed on top of him, both breathing hard, chests heaving in unison. Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck.
“Wow,” Dean marveled.
Sam began to struggle beneath him. “Dean,” he whispered breathily.
“Sam,” Dean said sternly. “Stop fighting me. We both wanted it.”
“I can’t…breathe.” He shoved weakly at Dean’s chest.
Dean chuckled and rolled off. “Oh sorry.” He pulled Sam against his chest.
Sam frowned up at him.
“What?”
“Are we cuddling now?” Sam asked, grinning.
Snuggling closer into Dean’s side, his eyes began to drift shut. The room was silent save for Sam’s slow breathing.
Dean drew feather light squiggly lines on Sam’s arms.
“You gonna stop worrying now?” He whispered, dropping a kiss to the still sweat damp curls.
Sam sighed in his slumber.
Let me know what you think, peoples. Feedback appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not mine, be nice.
Rating: relatively soft R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Dean finally finds out what's been bugging Sam.
Warnings: implied mpreg, extremely mild m/m sexing.
A/N: Unbeta'd. Sorry. I just really wanted to get this out. It had been forever since the last time I updated. Sorry about that. RealLife tried to take control.
“Daddy, is De gonna live with us forever?” Mikey asked from his spot on the floor where he lay coloring in his favorite coloring book.
Sam looked up from his ironing in surprise. “I don’t know about forever, but he’s gonna be here until his arm is better, remember?”
Mikey frowned and colored in the blonde hair of a little boy. “Why did the bad man hurt De’s arm? Did De call him a mean name?”
“No, De didn’t do anything wrong. You know how when you’re mad or sad about something I tell you to talk to me about it? Well, the bad man was mad, but he didn’t talk to anyone. Instead he hurt De’s arm, which was wrong. Does that make sense?”
Mikey looked up and scrunched his nose. “I think so, Daddy.”
Mikey seemed to accept this and went on about coloring the little boy’s jeans. He silently considered the various shades of blue spread out around him before selecting one, scrutinizing it in the morning sunlight. He would then shake his head in disappointment, replacing the reject Crayola back on the floor to try another until he was satisfied.
Sam watched him for a few moments, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud at his overly critical son. He knew for sure Dean would claim Mikey had inherited that quality from Sam.
Finished ironing his shirt for Monday, he carefully hung it in his closet.
“How about I make some pancakes?”
Mikey beamed at him and nodded eagerly.
“Okay, you finish coloring and try to stay quiet because De’s still asleep in the other room.”
“Okay Daddy.” Mikey mumbled; already back to concentrating on his picture.
Sam tiptoed past the closed door to the spare bedroom where he could hear Dean’s muffled snores and fought the urge to sneak a peek. In the kitchen Sam gathered all of his ingredients and supplies.
He was mixing the gooey batter when strong arms came around his waist and a cold nose was nuzzled against his neck, causing him to start.
“Damnit, Dean,” he said with little heat.
Dean’s chuckle was muffled by Sam’s skin. “Whatcha making, woman?”
Sam shimmied his shoulders, trying to buck Dean off. “Get off me.”
But it was said with little conviction, causing Dean to press warm sloppy kisses on the spot where the back of Sam’s neck met his shoulder.
“Dean,” Sam whined, but his head dropped forward and he let out a shuddering breath when Dean began sucking. Spurred by Sam’s sound effects, Dean smirked and turned him around. He snatched the mixing bowl from his hands and placed it on the counter. His arms went back around Sam’s waist, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Capturing Sam’s mouth, Dean wasted no time in delving in, tongue sweeping through. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth, his hands clutching desperately to the sides of Dean’s shirt. Dean nudged him back against the counter, pressing his achingly hard arousal against Sam’s. Dean growled at the contact and reached down to cup the taller man.
Sam gasped, his eyes snapping open. “Dean…wait.”
Dean ignored him, one hand pushing up Sam’s shirt.
Sam whimpered as Dean’s cool hands skimmed over his torso, then growled in frustration. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and his good shoulder, holding him back a little.
“Stop.”
“What, damnit,” Dean snapped.
Sam huffed and slid from between Dean and the counter. He turned back to his batter, fingers trembling around the spoon. “We can’t do this in my kitchen.”
Dean snorted and leaned back against the refrigerator. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it a minute ago.”
“I know, but Mikey’s right in the other room and he’s waiting for his breakfast.”
“Seriously Sam, that’s the only reason you threw cold water on all that lovely stuff we were just getting into?” Dean questioned.
“Yeah.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Right, whatever.”
Spinning around, Sam fixed him with a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that ever since that day at the hospital- since I’ve been staying here- whenever I try to take things a step further than quick kisses, you shoot me down with some lame ass excuse instead of actually talking to me and telling me what the problem is.”
Sam gritted his teeth and flipped over his first batch. “There is no problem, Dean.”
Dean threw up his hands in frustration and spun on his heel, slipping on his boots at the front door.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Sam flinched when the door slammed shut.
.oOo
“Are you sure it’s no trouble?” Sam buckled a drowsy Mikey into his booster seat and quietly closed the door.
Dennis grinned down at him. “Are you kidding? The kid’ll be knocked out for at least another hour or two. And then we’re going to see a movie.”
Sam leaned back against the car door with sigh. “Thanks again.”
“It’s really no problem.” He studied his friend for a moment. “You look completely strung out.”
Sam averted his eyes, “I’m fine.”
Dennis raised a dark brow in his knowing fashion. “That why you’ve been crying?”
“Dennis I really don’t-”
“Really don’t want to talk about it, yes I know.” He interrupted, smiling. “This is me butting out.” Tilting down, he kissed Sam’s forehead.
Sam smiled up at him. “Thanks Den, for this.”
Dennis opened the driver’s side door. “Hope everything works out.” He waggled his eyes brows suggestively and drove off.
.oOo.
Dean drove for a few hours outside of town just enjoying the shaded woods and the breeze whipping his short hair before finally turning around and heading back to Hopewell. He stopped at a gas station/auto body shop just outside of town to refill.
Once again cursing New Jersey for having suck a stupid law on pumping gas, he glared at the young man while he stuck the nozzle in the tank.
The guy, about Sam’s age with white blonde hair and blue eyes, started up a conversation.
“Awesome car. Just passing through, are ya?”
“No,” Dean responded shortly.
“Oh?” This seemed to perk the kid’s interest. “Really? You new here?” He forged ahead, not waiting for Dean’s response. “Well, welcome. I gotta tell you, this town’s pretty great- hardly ever any problems. In fact, a few weeks ago was the first criminal problem we’ve had in a while,” he said as he replaced the nozzle to the pump. “Some guy got shot downtown.”
Dean swallowed. “That-that’s a shame.” He shoved some money in the guy’s hand and hopped in the car.
Dean drove to Sam’s apartment (their apartment?) trying to ignore the dull ache creeping into his shoulder. He used the key Sam copied for him to enter.
The only light in the living room was the bright blue blow of the television. Sam sat on the floor in front of it, a leg drawn up to his chest and one of his cheeks resting against his knee while he watched. He looked up when Dean entered.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” Dean grunted as he sat down next to him. Glancing back at the quiet hallway, Dean frowned. “Where’s Mikey?”
“With Dennis.”
“Oh okay.”
They were silent for a while, pretending to watch while the current Bachelor wined and dined a group of giggling women.
“Man, I can’t believe they actually put this crap on TV,” Dean whined.
Sam sighed and aimed the remote, switching the sound to mute then turned his body to face Dean.
“I guess we should talk about this.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “About what? We can’t really do anything about the show, even though I think that one girl may need an exorcism right quick,”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Not that, Dean. This morning.”
“Oh right, that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Really,” Dean replied flatly. “That’s nice, Sam, but it doesn’t tell me what’s wrong with you.”
Sighing, Sam pulled his other leg up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I’m scared, Dean.”
Dean immediately tensed. “Of what exactly?”
Seam took a deep breath, his eyes wandering around the room. “I don’t know…of getting involved with you, I guess.”
Dean’s browns lowered. “I don’t follow.”
Sam swallowed hard. “I love you, Dean. I love you so much. And I know that Mikey already loves you, too. But that’s what scares me. He’s already so attacked to you. If something happened to you, he’d be devastated.”
“You trying to get rid of me, Sammy?” Dean chucked nervously.
Sam shook his head. “No, but anything can happen on a hunt,” he muttered miserably.
“Oh,” Dean exhaled as everything fell into place. “So you’ve been holding back because of what might happen if I go on a hunt?”
Sam seemed to curl even tighter into himself. “It isn’t a matter of if, Dean- it’s when.”
Dean was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, he scooted over so that they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.
Grabbing Sam’s hand, he laced their fingers together. “Look, Sam. I don’t know what might happen, I just…I’m here now, Sammy.” Hand moving up to cup Sam’s cheek, he made sure the clouded hazel orbs were connecting with his green ones. “And I would never- ever do anything to hurt you or Mikey.”
Sam’s eyes dropped. “I know not intentionally.”
Dean let out a frustrated growl and leaned forward, capturing Sam’s moth. Sam responded almost immediately, tensing and trying to pull away. Dean tightened his hold around his waist.
“No Sam. Just relax. Just let it happen; let me do this.” He continued his attack on Sam’s rosy lips, tongues clashing. His hands slid up Sam’s back, eliciting tiny shivers.
Dean let their mouths slip apart, moving down to suck and lick at the exposed collarbone. Sam bit his lip, his fingernails digging into Sean’s shoulders. Groaning, he pulled Dean back up so their lips were pressed together again.
Dean pulled back, panting. He laughed when Sam blinked at him owlishly, pupils blown.
“Okay Sammy,” Dean panted. “To the bedroom.”
Sam bounced back on the bed, Dean falling on top of him.
“Too many clothes,” Dean mumbled.
Somehow he managed to rid them both of their clothes without his lips ever leaving Sam’s body.
Sam spent the next few hours becoming reacquainted with the magic of Dean’s mouth and hands. By the time Dean slowly eased into him, he was completely worn out.
His back arched up off the bed when Dean go the angle right.
“Easy, baby,” Dean soothed. “Just relax.”
Sam’s hips bucked up to meet each of Dean’s thrusts. Neither was capable of words, reduced to communication through grunts, groans, and moans until Dean’s entire body tensed and he cried Sam’s name, completely draining himself in the other man. Dean’s release pushed Sam over the edge into his own and he twined his legs around Dean’s waist and whimpered desperately.
Dean collapsed on top of him, both breathing hard, chests heaving in unison. Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck.
“Wow,” Dean marveled.
Sam began to struggle beneath him. “Dean,” he whispered breathily.
“Sam,” Dean said sternly. “Stop fighting me. We both wanted it.”
“I can’t…breathe.” He shoved weakly at Dean’s chest.
Dean chuckled and rolled off. “Oh sorry.” He pulled Sam against his chest.
Sam frowned up at him.
“What?”
“Are we cuddling now?” Sam asked, grinning.
Snuggling closer into Dean’s side, his eyes began to drift shut. The room was silent save for Sam’s slow breathing.
Dean drew feather light squiggly lines on Sam’s arms.
“You gonna stop worrying now?” He whispered, dropping a kiss to the still sweat damp curls.
Sam sighed in his slumber.
Let me know what you think, peoples. Feedback appreciated.