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This is a post for any and all Fictional People prompts that have not been filled. (this includes pairings such as Sam/Dean, Dean/Cas, Clay/Tom, Priestly/Alec etc)
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This is a post for any and all Fictional People prompts that have not been filled. (this includes pairings such as Sam/Dean, Dean/Cas, Clay/Tom, Priestly/Alec etc)
You may browse through posts or take a look at our Unfilled Delicious account as a quick and easy resource ( Read more... )
He had a fucking doll up his ass. It hurt like Hell. And Dean should know. It hurt, in fact, worse than Hell. He was never going to disrespect a woman again. Ever. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Sam was still cooing over him and petting him like the insane motherfucker--did that count as disrespecting women?--he was. Dean wanted to curl up and scream until his throat was raw, but every time he shifted even the slightest bit, it moved in him, plastic little hands and feet floating around in the nutrient-fortified water Sam had pumped into him and bumping him from the inside. And Sam, touching his stomach and reporting, "she kicked!" then, worse, taking Dean's hand, making him touch and chirping, "See? See?"
Castiel's hand was loose on his wrist. Angel was drugged to the gills dressed in a woman's white nightgown and chained to the bed with a gold collar.
Yeah. If Dean got anything out of this experience, aside from the Respect Women thing, it would be this: When Sam went batshit crazy, he didn't do it by halves.
"You're going to be a mommy, Jess," Sam said. Cas blinked obediently. His lips stretched into a smile that did not meet his eyes. Dean squeezed his hand, bearing down on it. Castiel absorbed his pain without flinching.
"Sammy, please," Dean said. "It hurts so fucking bad, man."
"I know, honey, I know," Sam said, all fake concern and barely veiled excitement. Dean vomited. Unfortunately, he missed Sam. Sam looked startled, but then his expression returned to its imperturable state and he scurried off towards the bathroom.
"Cas, you alright?" Dean whispered.
"I am fine, Dean." His words were slurred.
Crazy thing was, he seemed to mean it.
"Dean," Castiel said. "If I may suggest--get angry with him."
"Yeah, because he loves that." That was how he'd wound up in this situation--getting fed up with Sam, calling him on his shit and then Sam reacting. Not with violence, oh no, he could have handled that, but with tears until Dean was begging him to stop, to trust his big brother to make everything better. From there it was just a hop, skip, jump to having a doll shoved up his ass. The thing's hair was tickling his insides, brushing the internal walls like that lightly nagging feeling he got after eating something that wanted to make a quick exit.
He wasn't clear on what Cas had done to get mistaken for Jess, other than turn up at the worst moment ever and look pretty.
"I have had the opportunity to watch a number of daytime programs, Dean, and it seems to me that women in labor are always quite vocal. And furious. Wrath of my Father furious. It could be that your brother is not taking your pain seriously because you have not cursed the day he was born."
"Huh," Dean said thoughtfully.
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When Dean loudly told Sam to go back to the rock he came from, Sam had never been so happy in his life. "The baby's coming!" he announced joyfully, and went to get some towels and hot water, humming as Dean's insults followed him into the bathroom and then into the kitchen.
He helped Dean up and put his arm around his shoulders so he could take a few, staggering steps. "Walking is supposed to help," he said. Dean looked at him like he wanted to kill him. Sam smiled more and kissed Dean on the cheek. He wasn't stupid enough to try getting close to Dean's mouth.
Jess was watching from the bed, so Sam smiled at her, too.
When Dean suddenly bent forward with a gasp that sounded like he meant it to be a scream, Sam scooped him up and carried him to the bed, where he set him down on top of the towels. Dean found his voice and shouted and squirmed.
"It's time, honey," Sam said, and broke Dean's water. He didn't watch it pouring out of Dean as he held the plug in his hand. Instead, he watched Dean's face and his beautiful eyes running tears. Jess had curled onto her side, trying to wrap herself around Dean's upper body. Sam reached over and petted her, pushing a loose hair behind her ear.
"Sammy, I can't. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Dean was babbling. He had one hand tight around Jess's arm and the other reaching for Sam.
Sam clasped it. "You can," he said. "You're almost there." He looked at Dean's hole, had to let go of him to push Dean's legs up and apart. It was an angry purple, still wide enough for his fist, and when he angled Dean so that the light him in the right spot, he could see their baby's head.
"I see her," he said, tears shining in his eyes over the miracle. "I need you to relax, Dean." He patted Dean's belly soothingly, finding the outline of the doll and rubbing his hand over it.
"Sam," Dean said, his voice tight.
"I know it's hard. But you're going to do this. I believe in you."
Finally, Dean let out a long breath and Sam felt the tension beneath his fingers dissapear. The baby shifted, moving down. Soon it would be time to push. He petted Dean's stomach more. "Breathe, Dean."
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Oddly, it didn't hurt as much as having Sam's fists inside him had. He'd been so scared then, that Sam would make a sudden movement or try to lift him up and sink him down on his forearms like a puppet. When he'd flexed, Dean had thought Sam would rip him apart.
Sam was cooing and petting him now, his eyes bright and hopeful. He pushed Dean's legs up to bare his hole to the air, but he didn't touch it. After all they'd been through, apparently this was what it took for Sam to keep his hands to himself. Dean had stopped crying. He stared up at the ceiling, swirls of white paint and stucco, not really seeing it. Sam's hands were big on his thighs, keeping him open. He tried to hide his face in Castiel's neck, but he couldn't tune out Sam's encouragements or his prattle about how pretty Dean looked, how they'd all be a family.
Dean started pushing. He'd always wanted a family. And, yeah, how fucked up was that? The plastic head slid out easy, but he had trouble at the shoulders. "Little help, Sammy?" he gasped. Sam looked confused and Dean was holding onto Cas too tightly to gesture, so Castiel, who rarely spoke when Sam was present, gently said, "Take the baby's shoulder's Sam."
The pressure eased as soon as Sam did this. It allowed Dean to breathe again. He pushed the doll out the rest of the way, shaking with the need to get up, to get out. The rest of the water rushed out of him. He felt his hole, gaping and empty...naked...and clenched his legs together, trying not to be so exposed. Now that the baby doll was out, Sam might want to put something else in there and he couldn't. Not now. He wanted to roll onto his side and be sick again.
Sam had wrapped the doll in a towel and turned his soft cooing towards it. Dean blinked the tears from his eyes and settled the mask back down over his features. Nothing to see here. Keep moving on, people.
"Sam?" Sam and Dean both started when Cas spoke. It really was that rare. "I would like to give our baby a gift," Cas said, his voice low and soothing as if he were calming a rabid dog.
Sam smiled. "That's a good idea, Jess."
"I would like to give her this collar." He touched the one around his neck. "But I can't get it off. I'm not strong enough."
Still smiling, Sam leaned forward to touch Castiel's neck. The collar snapped off. Cas removed it, unhooked it from the chain on the bedpost, and gently put it around the doll's neck. It shrank as he let go until it was the perfect size.
And then the doll began to cry. She was still made of plastic, but her limbs wiggled and her mouth opened, seeking sustenance. Sam pressed her to his chest. "Daddy's here. Going to give you everything you need."
"What the hell?" Dean started to ask when Cas turned back to him. Cas stood on the bed, though, and lifted Dean, too. Dean barely had time to wrap his arms around Castiel's shoulders before Castiel once again pressed Dean to his bosom and lifted him from hell (lowercase 'H' this time).
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"You can't keep me here," Dean said after two weeks of this.
"You'll go back to him." Castiel sounded wearier now than Dean had ever heard him.
"He's my brother." It was close enough to saying 'yes'.
"Not anymore. You should leave him to his demon baby." Castiel had explained about the power of the collar, how it did whatever Sam wished, whether that was to restrain an angel or make a hunk of plastic do a Pinocchio.
"I can't do that."
Castiel looked down and squeezed the bridge of his nose as if Dean had given a migraine. "I know. But I lifted you, Dean. And you should know this: my compassion and my need to save you has no limit. But if you go back to him, we will be done."
"He's my brother," Dean said again. He expected Castiel to disappear, fed up with him. Instead, Cas sits down next to him and takes his hand.
"You don't have to decide right now."
Dean was still thinking when the sun behind the curtains went down and Castiel rolled him onto his side and folded the blanket over him.
He thought he heard Castiel say, "Perhaps you should see him. Maybe that will snap you out of this."
But when he opened his eyes, Cas was gone, so he couldn't be sure. He knew one thing, though, he would find Sam again.
The End
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