Fic: SPN: A Miracle Waiting to Happen
Title: A Miracle Waiting to Happen
Rating: PG
Warnings: MPREG, possible triggers for blasphemy
Word Count: 860
Pairing: N/A
Summary: Sam's expecting. Dean wasn't. Or, in which Sam's deus ex machina takes the form of a rather unexpected, rather special baby and Dean is Not At All Happy.
Notes: written for shantirosa who donated for a ficlet of mine at help_haiti. She asked for Supernatural mpreg, with a certain, ah, twist. This is what happened.
Partially beta'd by phantomjam. All remaining mistakes are my own. Jam called me the "mpreg dealer, lurking in the shady corners of fandom in a trench-coat, luring in the innocent with promises of sweets then whammying with the mpreg trauma". And, y'know, much though I resent this accusation, I'm not sure I can actually refute it. ^_^
At least, Dean thought rather hysterically, Mary had had some semblance of warning. No choice, sure, but warning. Dean would sure as hell have appreciated it.
Sam, by contrast, seemed worryingly calm about the whole thing, and Dean would have suspected possession if it hadn’t been for the little niggling problem of the do-it-yourself Port-a-Messiah his brother was carrying round right now.
“So, basically,” Dean said, his voice higher than usual out of sheer stress, “he,” gesturing at Sam, “is going to pop out a kid in nine month’s time, and that kid is going to save the world.”
“Yes,” Castiel nodded, without a trace of irony, every bit as calm as Sam. “Though from the information I’ve been given, it’s more likely seven months now.”
Dean waved away timing worries with one hand. “Cas, you’re not listening,” he snapped, “he is going to have a kid? Where is it going to go?! Where is it going to come out?!”
Castiel gave him a long, silent look. “Dean, the Lord moves in mysterious ways.”
“Hey, in a couple of months, we can ask Sam just how mysterious those movements are!” Dean returned with false brightness. “Why didn’t we get any warning about Sam’s freaky Messiah baby anyway? Y’know, Visitation of the Virgin and-” he broke off and turned horrified eyes on Sam. “Oh, tell me you weren’t-”
Sam just raised an eyebrow at him. “Dude, Jess.”
“You were just good friends?” He turned back to Castiel. “So why didn’t he get - the holy calling card and Hosannas in the highest? The full works?”
For the first time Castiel looked vaguely discomfited. “Gabriel is - a little busy,” he said simply.
“Too busy to give Sam the courtesy call and tell him he was knocked up with a Jesus baby?” Dean asked acidly.
“It was felt that your reaction might not be - what could be wished,” Castiel said, as pointed as he ever got. “And that the news would come better from me.”
Dean sputtered for a second, and turned to Sam in lieu of a proper response. “Sam! Say something!”
“Like what?”
“‘Oh no’ would be a start!”
“Dean, I think you’re over-reacting-”
“To make up for your gross under-reaction!” Dean yelped.
“Dean, this has the potential to be a vital part of the effort against Lucifer,” Castiel said, apparently attempting to sound calming. As far as Dean was concerned, it wasn’t working. “As long as Sam gestates,” Dean winced a little, “our Lord, Lucifer cannot possibly touch him.”
“Sam!” Dean said indignantly. “Speak up for yourself, man!”
Sam shrugged. “Dude, I’m the vessel for the ultimate evil. If this is a get-out-of-possession-free card, I’m going to take it.”
**
Four Months Later
Sam eased himself into the Impala bit by bit, levering himself down inch by inch until he was finally sat comfortably in the low-slung car - or as comfortable as he ever got whilst lugging around what felt like an extra stone or so of weight.
“Remind me why I agreed to this?” he breathed, sitting forward in his seat so he could massage his lower back, digging long fingers into aching muscles.
“Because you’re stupid.” Dean said shortly. Four months was nowhere near long enough to get used to the idea that his brother - his brother! - was carrying around a tiny, holy person inside him. It was just wrong.
“Yeah, thanks, Dean.” Sam leant back in his seat with a sigh, one hand resting on top of his Jesus bump.
Dean started the Impala up with a vicious jerk of the keys then sent a whisper of apology to his own baby as she roared into life. “Yeah, well, it’ll be over soon. In a couple of months, we’ll be looking for a full motel with a surly manager and a free stable.”
Sam paused his impromptu massage of the Jesus bump and sighed. “I’m going to give birth to the Messiah in a motel room, aren’t I?”
“Hey, even some of the shit holes we’ve stayed in beat out a stable hands down.” Dean pointed out. “And you’re not going to ‘give birth’, Sammy, because you’re a dude. You’ll be having your very own DIY home edition of a caesarean section.”
“It makes me really uncomfortable when you call it a ‘DIY’ version, Dean.”
“It makes me really uncomfortable when you coo at Jesus-face in there, but I don’t complain.” Dean retorted, easing them out onto the freeway. “Now let’s go scare some demons with your new and improved Messiah-carrying body, and shut up about it for the rest of the ride, OK?”
It was going to be a long couple of months and then a long few years, demon-hunting, kicking evil ass and taking evil names with baby Jesus in the back of the Impala, but, all things considered, Dean thought they were up to it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give Sam a little bit of hell about it on the way.
That was, after all, what big brothers did. Even when their little brother was pregnant with the Saviour of the World.
The Winchesters had dealt with far worse things in their time.
**
There may be more of this if/when I finish another fic and have time to write it. It was fun for me! Was it good for you too? *suggestive wink*
Rating: PG
Warnings: MPREG, possible triggers for blasphemy
Word Count: 860
Pairing: N/A
Summary: Sam's expecting. Dean wasn't. Or, in which Sam's deus ex machina takes the form of a rather unexpected, rather special baby and Dean is Not At All Happy.
Notes: written for shantirosa who donated for a ficlet of mine at help_haiti. She asked for Supernatural mpreg, with a certain, ah, twist. This is what happened.
Partially beta'd by phantomjam. All remaining mistakes are my own. Jam called me the "mpreg dealer, lurking in the shady corners of fandom in a trench-coat, luring in the innocent with promises of sweets then whammying with the mpreg trauma". And, y'know, much though I resent this accusation, I'm not sure I can actually refute it. ^_^
At least, Dean thought rather hysterically, Mary had had some semblance of warning. No choice, sure, but warning. Dean would sure as hell have appreciated it.
Sam, by contrast, seemed worryingly calm about the whole thing, and Dean would have suspected possession if it hadn’t been for the little niggling problem of the do-it-yourself Port-a-Messiah his brother was carrying round right now.
“So, basically,” Dean said, his voice higher than usual out of sheer stress, “he,” gesturing at Sam, “is going to pop out a kid in nine month’s time, and that kid is going to save the world.”
“Yes,” Castiel nodded, without a trace of irony, every bit as calm as Sam. “Though from the information I’ve been given, it’s more likely seven months now.”
Dean waved away timing worries with one hand. “Cas, you’re not listening,” he snapped, “he is going to have a kid? Where is it going to go?! Where is it going to come out?!”
Castiel gave him a long, silent look. “Dean, the Lord moves in mysterious ways.”
“Hey, in a couple of months, we can ask Sam just how mysterious those movements are!” Dean returned with false brightness. “Why didn’t we get any warning about Sam’s freaky Messiah baby anyway? Y’know, Visitation of the Virgin and-” he broke off and turned horrified eyes on Sam. “Oh, tell me you weren’t-”
Sam just raised an eyebrow at him. “Dude, Jess.”
“You were just good friends?” He turned back to Castiel. “So why didn’t he get - the holy calling card and Hosannas in the highest? The full works?”
For the first time Castiel looked vaguely discomfited. “Gabriel is - a little busy,” he said simply.
“Too busy to give Sam the courtesy call and tell him he was knocked up with a Jesus baby?” Dean asked acidly.
“It was felt that your reaction might not be - what could be wished,” Castiel said, as pointed as he ever got. “And that the news would come better from me.”
Dean sputtered for a second, and turned to Sam in lieu of a proper response. “Sam! Say something!”
“Like what?”
“‘Oh no’ would be a start!”
“Dean, I think you’re over-reacting-”
“To make up for your gross under-reaction!” Dean yelped.
“Dean, this has the potential to be a vital part of the effort against Lucifer,” Castiel said, apparently attempting to sound calming. As far as Dean was concerned, it wasn’t working. “As long as Sam gestates,” Dean winced a little, “our Lord, Lucifer cannot possibly touch him.”
“Sam!” Dean said indignantly. “Speak up for yourself, man!”
Sam shrugged. “Dude, I’m the vessel for the ultimate evil. If this is a get-out-of-possession-free card, I’m going to take it.”
**
Four Months Later
Sam eased himself into the Impala bit by bit, levering himself down inch by inch until he was finally sat comfortably in the low-slung car - or as comfortable as he ever got whilst lugging around what felt like an extra stone or so of weight.
“Remind me why I agreed to this?” he breathed, sitting forward in his seat so he could massage his lower back, digging long fingers into aching muscles.
“Because you’re stupid.” Dean said shortly. Four months was nowhere near long enough to get used to the idea that his brother - his brother! - was carrying around a tiny, holy person inside him. It was just wrong.
“Yeah, thanks, Dean.” Sam leant back in his seat with a sigh, one hand resting on top of his Jesus bump.
Dean started the Impala up with a vicious jerk of the keys then sent a whisper of apology to his own baby as she roared into life. “Yeah, well, it’ll be over soon. In a couple of months, we’ll be looking for a full motel with a surly manager and a free stable.”
Sam paused his impromptu massage of the Jesus bump and sighed. “I’m going to give birth to the Messiah in a motel room, aren’t I?”
“Hey, even some of the shit holes we’ve stayed in beat out a stable hands down.” Dean pointed out. “And you’re not going to ‘give birth’, Sammy, because you’re a dude. You’ll be having your very own DIY home edition of a caesarean section.”
“It makes me really uncomfortable when you call it a ‘DIY’ version, Dean.”
“It makes me really uncomfortable when you coo at Jesus-face in there, but I don’t complain.” Dean retorted, easing them out onto the freeway. “Now let’s go scare some demons with your new and improved Messiah-carrying body, and shut up about it for the rest of the ride, OK?”
It was going to be a long couple of months and then a long few years, demon-hunting, kicking evil ass and taking evil names with baby Jesus in the back of the Impala, but, all things considered, Dean thought they were up to it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give Sam a little bit of hell about it on the way.
That was, after all, what big brothers did. Even when their little brother was pregnant with the Saviour of the World.
The Winchesters had dealt with far worse things in their time.
**
There may be more of this if/when I finish another fic and have time to write it. It was fun for me! Was it good for you too? *suggestive wink*