CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS // SPN & OTHER CHARACTERS Prompts Post // June 1-15
This post is for ANY AND ALL SPN & OTHER CHARACTER PROMPTS. Characters from other fandoms are allowed as long as the main pairing includes one Supernatural character. Reminder: all prompts with characters under the age of 18 should be posted to the underage post.
[READ BEFORE COMMENTING]FORMATTINGPrompts
All prompts subject lines must adhere to the following format:
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[READ BEFORE COMMENTING]FORMATTINGPrompts
All prompts subject lines must adhere to the following format:
( Read more... )
Even though, by all accounts, he should've lost weight over his last two weeks or so of random attacks of nausea, his jeans won't button without digging into his sore stomach, and the last few teeth of his zipper won't slide all the way up, straining to hold the soft swell of pudge where he'd had rock-solid abs three weeks ago.
A thought occurs to him, and he digs the small, wrinkled business card out of his back pocket. 'Anniston Clinic,' the card reads, and there's a handwritten note on the flip side thanking them for the help with the fertility idol. After a moment of internal cringing, Sam leaves the tiny bathroom, and grabs a tiny pink box under the counter. The clerk gives him a raised eyebrow, but says nothing, and Sam flees back into the bathroom.
He opens the cardboard box, proudly proclaiming 'Results in One Minute!', with shaking hands. After a nervous glance at the door, Sam sighs, aims, and pees on the tiny stick.
Sure enough, less than a minute later, two pink lines are unmistakeably showing up. He's either got some other hormonal issue going on, or that damn idol went and got him pregnant.
The door bursts open, and Sam jumps as Dean yells, "Okay, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? Do I need to carry you out to the ca--"
Dean stops dead as Sam shamefacedly hands over the stick. "You were right," he says miserably. "I shouldn't have touched the idol."
He instinctively cringes around his stomach, waiting for Dean's explosive response--but it doesn't come. Instead, Dean takes the test and box out of his hands, throwing everything away, and wraps him up in a hug. "C'mere, you big lug," he murmurs, Sam bending down so he can rest his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean pets through his hair, rubs his back, shushes him. "We'll figure it out. Okay?"
He sounds calm, confident, and Sam just--melts against him, the stress and worry of the last few weeks slowly fading out of him. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Should've been more careful."
"Hey," Dean says, standing him back up and looking directly at him. "Takes two to tango, Sammy. Once you touched it, I shoulda gone out and bought us some condoms or something. It's alright."
"You're sure?" Sam asks doubtfully.
"I'm sure," Dean says. "So, hey--let's grab you some Pepto, and get back on the road. We can talk while we drive back to the clinic."
"Okay," Sam agrees. He lets Dean lead him back out of the bathroom, an arm slung around his waist, and even with all the surreal, uncomfortable possibilities stretching out in front of him--he still thinks, somehow, that they're gonna be fine after all.
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Awesome fill!
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