[Supernatural] It's all about practice
Title: It's all about practice
Author: weeping_ice
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: G
Wordcount: 2260
Warnings/spoilers: incest, mpreg
Summary: “Well, you see... there are men and women. But also men and men. Or women and women...”
It's all started on spn_j2_xmas.
This gift was writing for morrezela: happy Christmas \o/. I'm sorry, but I started from one of your prompt (the 'wake up hearing other person's thoughts' one), but the story went on its own way XD.
Thank you so much to sepherim_ml for readig and correct all the mess in record time. Every mistake you find now is mine all (the poor woman is a saint, but she can't do miracles).
“Well, you see... there are men and women. But also men and men. Or women and women...”
Dean yawned, turning slowly to his right side where the bed was almost cold, fumbling for someone that should be there with him and hissing for the smallest movement. Every bone and muscle of his body hurt as if a werewolf played with him and then chewed the remains, while his ass was on fire for the night before and the bed... well, they probably would have to buy a new one soon.
The alarm on the night-stand marked only half past six am.Dean would never understand how Sam could wake up so early and, most of all, why the hell he had to wake him up thinking aloud about... well, whatever passed into his mind.
Dean blinked a few times and he saw Sam straight in front of him, sitting at the little table, talking and gesticulating like a madman; Dean is very familiar with that view as Sam does that every time he researched on a new way to kick the angels' asses back to Paradise - and, seriously, seeing the way Kevin and, seriously, looking at Kevin's new low, Sam was way too invested in finding something to help him.
So Dean wasn't really surprised to see him up, but the laptop seemed forgotten on a chair and he couldn't catch a sight of Kevin's notes or the Angel's Tablet. Behind his brother, Dean could see the little and the Christmas tree that Samantha wanted absolutely to have 'cause, hello, there was a baby on his way. He had even the balls to explain all of that like Dean was a very slow and dumb man, as if Dean wasn't the one with a bladder ready to burst every two minutes by nine months of pregnancy.
Seriously, he had to remind the kid who was the carrier between them with big belly and swollen ankles. The thought of withholding sex crossed Dean's mind, but he liked sex too much himself.
“Yes, this could be the way." Sam kept babbling. "In the world there are men and women, I don't care if you like one or the other or both...”
And what the fuck that idiot was babbling about? Even that morons of Ezechiel and Castiel had explained better in what kind of mess the the Winchester brothers had encountered.
The room was cold and the smell of cheap coffee, bacon and eggs were making Dean nauseous., just like every morning in the lasts months. Seriously, he should try to sleep a little more and maybe call the bitch in bed with him... Damn, he cursed in a low voice, massaging his lower back; the little one liked kicking his kidneys and his guts, it's a wonder he didn't have bruises yet.
“He’s trouble, isn't he?”
Dean glared at his brother. Sam was now standing up, looking at him with his damned puppy's eyes like he was a little and fragile doll he had to protect and cuddle.
Ok, that was enough, decided Dean. He knew Sam meant good, he really did, but he wasn't a damn chick. Sure, he was pregnant and he had to pee every fucking minute, couldn't drink coffee and hadn't gone out in the past four months 'cause he looked like a freak and every dumb Wallmart's clerk who looked at him would laugh... but he was a fucking though Winchester and Sammy would be better remember it.
“And why are you so sure the baby is a he?” he snarled, sitting against the headboard. His hands went to his belly, caressing it with slow and small circles. He wasn't a woman or anything, but it seemed that those movements calm the kid. “It could be a she. You'll see, it will be an awesome girl. And she would kick your ass for what you put me through.”
Not that it meant anything, but Dean was the one carrying the baby, so it was simply logic he was the only one who would know anything or could say something about the child.
Sam was shaking his head and threw himself on the bed, right next to Dean's legs, too tired to reply. Well, that wasn't the first time they talked about this and every time Sam dropped out for the quiet living and because he liked his balls, thank you very much.
Dean sighed, covering his eyes. The bunker was quiet at that early hour; Crowley was in the room behind the library grumbling and thinking how to take them and Abaddon out, and Kevin was in his room, probably passed out for too much beers and pain killers. Dean really needed to lock the first aid kit in a securer place, before the kid kill himself, overwhelmed by the grief over his mother's loss and all the shit Crowley was giving him.
Dean realizes that sometimes he was a little pain in the ass and a hormonal mess, but, hey, pregnant guy here, he had every right to be one. But even that, maybe he went too far in the last couple of days: especially when he sent Sam two cities away for a burger or for an ice cream 'cause nobody near the bunker could do something right.
Dean watched silently his little brother adjust himself, stretching his too long legs till his feet touched the floor. Sam was still silent, but his hands went immediately to his brother's prominent belly, looking like he was searching for a life vest and Dean knew he was searching for the spot where, most of the time, he could feel the kid turning and kicking.
Yes, thought Dean, stroking his brother's hairs, he was really a dick.
Sam was still resting his hand just under his belly button. “I don't mind if we have a daughter,” he whispered against Dean' skin, tracing a line with soft kisses. “But I don't think I'll bear her teenage years without a shotgun at hand.”
“You are overreacting...” Dean would have joked and make fun of him, but Sam was looking at him, preventing him from adding something else.
“I'm sure she will look like you,” Sam whispered. “Big green eyes, plump lips and long lashes, every guy will look at her. The high school football player, the quarterback and star of the team'll want to take her to the prom. And you know what happens on prom night.” He stopped for a second, his face green. “I don't know how dad handles you.”
“Hey dude!” Dean complained, smacking him on the back of the head. “Dad hadn't done anything. I'll say it one more time: I'm not a girl and I don't need anybody to protect my virtue.”
Well, it wasn't totally true, if he thought about that quarterback in California. Or the redhead pool dude that Dad punched near death simply 'cause he had rested his hands too near Dean's lower back... but Sam didn't need to know that. Still, he remembered even now the dude's stupid face when dad jumped in the alley and smacked the poor bastard against the wall.
He closed his eyes and had to almost bite his own hand to not burst out laughing. His little brother was at Stanford at the time, but Dean was sure that, with his alpha-ness, he would end up killing the idiot for touching his brother.
The tree was hanging to one side for the weight of the colorful balls and Sam's hands were still on him, caressing all the skin they could reach... ok, he couldn't laugh anymore, but he was still sore from night before and he didn't even had one of the shit Sam allowed him to drink instead of coffee.
Dean cleared his throat. They definitely didn't need a new session of making out.
“Anyway, what were you playing before, Shakespeare?”
And yes, Dean saw his adult-and-a-non-half-bad-shooter-with-a-gun brother blushing and looking down embarrassed.
“Well... Did you remember that winter in Nevada?” he said, caressing the back of his neck. The other hand was still on Dean's belly. “The one you broke your leg hunting a poltergeist and ended up in hospital for three weeks?”
“Oh yeah,” Dean said with a grin. “There was a nurse there. You should have seen her, dude. Blondie with such big boobs and a passion for short skirt and shit music.”
“Anyway, I was going out with Hanna Davels...”
“Wait a minute. You were dating Miss Braces and Algebra's A?”
And now, ladies and gentlemen, the Sam's Winchester's bitch face number five. Better than the perfume. “She was really smart and funny. And we were only hanging out sometimes,” Sam justified himself, turning around and facing his brother... “But Dad found out, so he decided that was the perfect time to sit, give me my first beer and have The Talk.”
“The Talk? Like The One?”
Sam nodded.
“But, I... we already had that...”
“He didn't know. I hadn't said him anything,” Sam replayed quickly, lowing his eyes, just like he did so many years ago when they talked about what boys and girls do together.
Oh, that afternoon was crystal clear in his mind: Sam had returned from school and launched his schoolbag on the old sofa, bitching and grumbling about his friend Mike 'cause he wasted too much time kissing little Lucy in the park behind school, instead playing with Sam and the others. Dean remembered too well the chubby twelve years old he lectured through the big and magic mysteries of boys and girls well, he must had been a hell of a teacher, since little Sammy and he have gone from 'Little Lucy is horrible and stinks' to what they did some months ago.
Yeah, he thought, caressing his aching back, he remember well that Christmas; Dean Santa brought two porn magazines with the usual dolls to his little nerdy brother.
If he really thought about it, it was almost incredible that the giant and muscled alpha in front of him that have knocked him up was the same little boy of so many years ago, the one who watched him with a disgusted face saying that kissing girls sucked and the same that was still dying of embarrassment for 'The Talk' with Dad.
Dean knew too well how that particular talk could have gone with his father and, really, he felt sorry for the Sasquatch. “So, the old man put you through the big pain again,” he joked, punching him in the chest.
“Man, that was so embarrassing!” Sam moaned, resting his head again near Dean's legs. “We were sitting in the kitchen and he took a beer and started slurring about bees and flowers!”
He paused for a second, like he was thinking something important. Dean was absolutely sure that, even if they were at each other's throat every moment, Sam missed Dad every damn day, maybe more than him. Damn, maybe the kid missed even that absurd and embarrassing talk.
Despite their constant disagreements, Dean was sure Sam was dad's favorite sure enough, Dean never felt to belong with them Sam's gaze went straight to the Christmas tree he insisted on having. A ball had already crashed to the ground and probably many others will follow. “I really wanted to be anywhere but there and I think it was the same for him”
“Ok, you had the most horrible and terrifying talk that men know, but what's the matter with what you did before?”
“Well, I thought one day I should be the one talking with the kid about these things,” Sam announced, sounding proud. “So I'm preparing myself and practicing the talk. I want this child to understand at least a thing or two, but without killing himself for the embarrassment, 'cause his dad is a complete idiot.”
In that moment Dean would have liked to stay serious and sympathize with what his brother went through that horrible day. He really, really, he wanted to do that - and he even tried - but he couldn't keep himself from bursting into laughter.
He would never say that aloud and, even if Sam tortured him with the worst girly films, but Dean often found himself to think how the baby would look like, if the little one would have his or Sam's eyes, how he or she would smile, if he would have dimples like Sam or he would have his lips, and every time Dean hoped the kid will smile in the same innocent and happy way Sam do, and Dean would do anything to see him or her smile, as he did for Sam.
“Well, if this will make you feel better, Sammy, I will be the one talking to our daughter about little girls and little boys' differences.”
Sam smiled like Dean relieved him from the greatest burden in the world and let himself relax, hugging Dean's middle as the big girl he was. Yes, Dean could do it, especially to see that smile... and especially for their poor daughter.
Sam kissed his belly. “I love you so much,” he whispered to Dean and the baby, then he accommodated himself, falling immediately asleep on top of his brother, like he used to do when he was only a kid.
The older Winchester looked at his little brother and then he laid down again, covering the both of them. The bunker was still quiet and the coffee was already cold, maybe they could afford another hour of sleep.
Author: weeping_ice
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: G
Wordcount: 2260
Warnings/spoilers: incest, mpreg
Summary: “Well, you see... there are men and women. But also men and men. Or women and women...”
It's all started on spn_j2_xmas.
This gift was writing for morrezela: happy Christmas \o/. I'm sorry, but I started from one of your prompt (the 'wake up hearing other person's thoughts' one), but the story went on its own way XD.
Thank you so much to sepherim_ml for readig and correct all the mess in record time. Every mistake you find now is mine all (the poor woman is a saint, but she can't do miracles).
“Well, you see... there are men and women. But also men and men. Or women and women...”
Dean yawned, turning slowly to his right side where the bed was almost cold, fumbling for someone that should be there with him and hissing for the smallest movement. Every bone and muscle of his body hurt as if a werewolf played with him and then chewed the remains, while his ass was on fire for the night before and the bed... well, they probably would have to buy a new one soon.
The alarm on the night-stand marked only half past six am.Dean would never understand how Sam could wake up so early and, most of all, why the hell he had to wake him up thinking aloud about... well, whatever passed into his mind.
Dean blinked a few times and he saw Sam straight in front of him, sitting at the little table, talking and gesticulating like a madman; Dean is very familiar with that view as Sam does that every time he researched on a new way to kick the angels' asses back to Paradise - and, seriously, seeing the way Kevin and, seriously, looking at Kevin's new low, Sam was way too invested in finding something to help him.
So Dean wasn't really surprised to see him up, but the laptop seemed forgotten on a chair and he couldn't catch a sight of Kevin's notes or the Angel's Tablet. Behind his brother, Dean could see the little and the Christmas tree that Samantha wanted absolutely to have 'cause, hello, there was a baby on his way. He had even the balls to explain all of that like Dean was a very slow and dumb man, as if Dean wasn't the one with a bladder ready to burst every two minutes by nine months of pregnancy.
Seriously, he had to remind the kid who was the carrier between them with big belly and swollen ankles. The thought of withholding sex crossed Dean's mind, but he liked sex too much himself.
“Yes, this could be the way." Sam kept babbling. "In the world there are men and women, I don't care if you like one or the other or both...”
And what the fuck that idiot was babbling about? Even that morons of Ezechiel and Castiel had explained better in what kind of mess the the Winchester brothers had encountered.
The room was cold and the smell of cheap coffee, bacon and eggs were making Dean nauseous., just like every morning in the lasts months. Seriously, he should try to sleep a little more and maybe call the bitch in bed with him... Damn, he cursed in a low voice, massaging his lower back; the little one liked kicking his kidneys and his guts, it's a wonder he didn't have bruises yet.
“He’s trouble, isn't he?”
Dean glared at his brother. Sam was now standing up, looking at him with his damned puppy's eyes like he was a little and fragile doll he had to protect and cuddle.
Ok, that was enough, decided Dean. He knew Sam meant good, he really did, but he wasn't a damn chick. Sure, he was pregnant and he had to pee every fucking minute, couldn't drink coffee and hadn't gone out in the past four months 'cause he looked like a freak and every dumb Wallmart's clerk who looked at him would laugh... but he was a fucking though Winchester and Sammy would be better remember it.
“And why are you so sure the baby is a he?” he snarled, sitting against the headboard. His hands went to his belly, caressing it with slow and small circles. He wasn't a woman or anything, but it seemed that those movements calm the kid. “It could be a she. You'll see, it will be an awesome girl. And she would kick your ass for what you put me through.”
Not that it meant anything, but Dean was the one carrying the baby, so it was simply logic he was the only one who would know anything or could say something about the child.
Sam was shaking his head and threw himself on the bed, right next to Dean's legs, too tired to reply. Well, that wasn't the first time they talked about this and every time Sam dropped out for the quiet living and because he liked his balls, thank you very much.
Dean sighed, covering his eyes. The bunker was quiet at that early hour; Crowley was in the room behind the library grumbling and thinking how to take them and Abaddon out, and Kevin was in his room, probably passed out for too much beers and pain killers. Dean really needed to lock the first aid kit in a securer place, before the kid kill himself, overwhelmed by the grief over his mother's loss and all the shit Crowley was giving him.
Dean realizes that sometimes he was a little pain in the ass and a hormonal mess, but, hey, pregnant guy here, he had every right to be one. But even that, maybe he went too far in the last couple of days: especially when he sent Sam two cities away for a burger or for an ice cream 'cause nobody near the bunker could do something right.
Dean watched silently his little brother adjust himself, stretching his too long legs till his feet touched the floor. Sam was still silent, but his hands went immediately to his brother's prominent belly, looking like he was searching for a life vest and Dean knew he was searching for the spot where, most of the time, he could feel the kid turning and kicking.
Yes, thought Dean, stroking his brother's hairs, he was really a dick.
Sam was still resting his hand just under his belly button. “I don't mind if we have a daughter,” he whispered against Dean' skin, tracing a line with soft kisses. “But I don't think I'll bear her teenage years without a shotgun at hand.”
“You are overreacting...” Dean would have joked and make fun of him, but Sam was looking at him, preventing him from adding something else.
“I'm sure she will look like you,” Sam whispered. “Big green eyes, plump lips and long lashes, every guy will look at her. The high school football player, the quarterback and star of the team'll want to take her to the prom. And you know what happens on prom night.” He stopped for a second, his face green. “I don't know how dad handles you.”
“Hey dude!” Dean complained, smacking him on the back of the head. “Dad hadn't done anything. I'll say it one more time: I'm not a girl and I don't need anybody to protect my virtue.”
Well, it wasn't totally true, if he thought about that quarterback in California. Or the redhead pool dude that Dad punched near death simply 'cause he had rested his hands too near Dean's lower back... but Sam didn't need to know that. Still, he remembered even now the dude's stupid face when dad jumped in the alley and smacked the poor bastard against the wall.
He closed his eyes and had to almost bite his own hand to not burst out laughing. His little brother was at Stanford at the time, but Dean was sure that, with his alpha-ness, he would end up killing the idiot for touching his brother.
The tree was hanging to one side for the weight of the colorful balls and Sam's hands were still on him, caressing all the skin they could reach... ok, he couldn't laugh anymore, but he was still sore from night before and he didn't even had one of the shit Sam allowed him to drink instead of coffee.
Dean cleared his throat. They definitely didn't need a new session of making out.
“Anyway, what were you playing before, Shakespeare?”
And yes, Dean saw his adult-and-a-non-half-bad-shooter-with-a-gun brother blushing and looking down embarrassed.
“Well... Did you remember that winter in Nevada?” he said, caressing the back of his neck. The other hand was still on Dean's belly. “The one you broke your leg hunting a poltergeist and ended up in hospital for three weeks?”
“Oh yeah,” Dean said with a grin. “There was a nurse there. You should have seen her, dude. Blondie with such big boobs and a passion for short skirt and shit music.”
“Anyway, I was going out with Hanna Davels...”
“Wait a minute. You were dating Miss Braces and Algebra's A?”
And now, ladies and gentlemen, the Sam's Winchester's bitch face number five. Better than the perfume. “She was really smart and funny. And we were only hanging out sometimes,” Sam justified himself, turning around and facing his brother... “But Dad found out, so he decided that was the perfect time to sit, give me my first beer and have The Talk.”
“The Talk? Like The One?”
Sam nodded.
“But, I... we already had that...”
“He didn't know. I hadn't said him anything,” Sam replayed quickly, lowing his eyes, just like he did so many years ago when they talked about what boys and girls do together.
Oh, that afternoon was crystal clear in his mind: Sam had returned from school and launched his schoolbag on the old sofa, bitching and grumbling about his friend Mike 'cause he wasted too much time kissing little Lucy in the park behind school, instead playing with Sam and the others. Dean remembered too well the chubby twelve years old he lectured through the big and magic mysteries of boys and girls well, he must had been a hell of a teacher, since little Sammy and he have gone from 'Little Lucy is horrible and stinks' to what they did some months ago.
Yeah, he thought, caressing his aching back, he remember well that Christmas; Dean Santa brought two porn magazines with the usual dolls to his little nerdy brother.
If he really thought about it, it was almost incredible that the giant and muscled alpha in front of him that have knocked him up was the same little boy of so many years ago, the one who watched him with a disgusted face saying that kissing girls sucked and the same that was still dying of embarrassment for 'The Talk' with Dad.
Dean knew too well how that particular talk could have gone with his father and, really, he felt sorry for the Sasquatch. “So, the old man put you through the big pain again,” he joked, punching him in the chest.
“Man, that was so embarrassing!” Sam moaned, resting his head again near Dean's legs. “We were sitting in the kitchen and he took a beer and started slurring about bees and flowers!”
He paused for a second, like he was thinking something important. Dean was absolutely sure that, even if they were at each other's throat every moment, Sam missed Dad every damn day, maybe more than him. Damn, maybe the kid missed even that absurd and embarrassing talk.
Despite their constant disagreements, Dean was sure Sam was dad's favorite sure enough, Dean never felt to belong with them Sam's gaze went straight to the Christmas tree he insisted on having. A ball had already crashed to the ground and probably many others will follow. “I really wanted to be anywhere but there and I think it was the same for him”
“Ok, you had the most horrible and terrifying talk that men know, but what's the matter with what you did before?”
“Well, I thought one day I should be the one talking with the kid about these things,” Sam announced, sounding proud. “So I'm preparing myself and practicing the talk. I want this child to understand at least a thing or two, but without killing himself for the embarrassment, 'cause his dad is a complete idiot.”
In that moment Dean would have liked to stay serious and sympathize with what his brother went through that horrible day. He really, really, he wanted to do that - and he even tried - but he couldn't keep himself from bursting into laughter.
He would never say that aloud and, even if Sam tortured him with the worst girly films, but Dean often found himself to think how the baby would look like, if the little one would have his or Sam's eyes, how he or she would smile, if he would have dimples like Sam or he would have his lips, and every time Dean hoped the kid will smile in the same innocent and happy way Sam do, and Dean would do anything to see him or her smile, as he did for Sam.
“Well, if this will make you feel better, Sammy, I will be the one talking to our daughter about little girls and little boys' differences.”
Sam smiled like Dean relieved him from the greatest burden in the world and let himself relax, hugging Dean's middle as the big girl he was. Yes, Dean could do it, especially to see that smile... and especially for their poor daughter.
Sam kissed his belly. “I love you so much,” he whispered to Dean and the baby, then he accommodated himself, falling immediately asleep on top of his brother, like he used to do when he was only a kid.
The older Winchester looked at his little brother and then he laid down again, covering the both of them. The bunker was still quiet and the coffee was already cold, maybe they could afford another hour of sleep.