(no subject)
I once got drunk at a hospital and wrote this. I posted it, then realized it made me sound like a crazy pervert and screened it.
I don't know who the hell I thought I was fooling. I am a crazy pervert.
Parody. Parody. Parody. Mpreg. Don't look at me like that.
Lesson learned
Dean/Sam, John
PG
"Dad, are you there? Pick up." A sigh. "Okay, call me when you get this. There's something...wrong with Dean and I'm not talking about his overwhelming emotional angst. He's, well, you'll see."
As the light beeped on his phone letting him know he had a message, John chuckled. He never picked up the phone on the first ring, it made him seem too easy.
He hit the button and listened to the message. Something wrong with Dean? John hoped he hadn't gotten a stripper named Candy pregnant - that was a mistake only one Winchester ever need make.
Looked like it was time to see his boys.
***
"Yes, son," John said sagely when he saw Dean, "the Winchester Family Curse strikes again."
Sam blinked owlishly from where he was sitting next to Dean's bedside, apparently rubbing his feet. John politely pretended not to notice. "You mean the one where we have an odd bond with the supernatural and everyone we love dies?"
"Ooh," John said, "good point, but not that one. The other Winchester Family Curse."
"Which one is that?" Dean demanded, an open jar of pickles perched perilously on his swollen belly.
"The one where every generation a Winchester man can become pregnant."
Sam stood up and Dean made a small displeased sound that the rubbing had stopped. "And you didn't think to tell us?"
John eyed Dean pointedly. "I didn't think it would be an issue." The next question hovered at his lips, unspoken. It was one of those things he'd never wanted to ask anyone, like what was in bologna and if Celine Dion was really Canadian. Man, he loved her voice. He licked his lips nervously. “So who did this to you?”
Dean coughed around a pickle and Sam suddenly found the floor fascinating. John’s head ping-ponged between the two of them before realization struck. He’d suspected something when they were teens and Dean continued to sneak into Sam’s bed at night, but John had always assumed Dean was just being protective. With lube and condoms.
John sighed. “This is going to be another one of those things we don’t talk about, right?”
“Yeah,” Sam said desperately. “I think that’s for the best.”
John reached out and patted Sam’s arm awkwardly. “So how far along are you?”
“Five months,” Dean answered.
“Five months? A bit unusual to be so big at five months.”
“Hello, I am pregnant,” Dean said. “What about this isn’t unusual?” At John’s look, Dean added defensively, “What? I’m retaining water.” He turned to Sam and pointed a quivering pickle in John‘s direction. “He’s calling me fat.”
Sam rubbed Dean's arm soothingly while assuring him. “No, he’s not.” Sam glared at John and hissed, “You insensitive jerk.”
John coughed. “I’m not saying that at all,” he said weakly. “You’re...quite fetching. Glowing, even.” He stopped to consider Dean for a moment and really looked at him.
When he thought about it, Dean looked like Mary, even moreso with the added weight that rounded out his sharp features. He looked softer, quieter, happy. “You look good,” he said, finally.
Dean turned over on his side, carefully, clutching his belly like there was something precious inside, which John guessed there kind of was. Sam watched anxiously, then smoothed the covers back down like Dean had done for him so many time when he’d taken ill, not that he would have let Sam know that.
“Get offa me,” he muttered, batting Sam’s hands away, even now hating to be coddled. “So have I got some kind of demon spawn in me that’s gonna eat my liver for dinner?”
John sat down on the edge of the bed, mindful of Dean’s feet. “No, it’d be a regular baby.”
Dean’s eyelids drooped tiredly, all the commotion of the day wearing him out, as he said, “Good. That’s good.”
“What’re you going to name it?”
“Her,” Sam said in a hushed voice, staring at Dean with a soft light that John remembered. “We thought we’d call her Mary.”
WC: 671
Yes, I am properly ashamed of myself.
I don't know who the hell I thought I was fooling. I am a crazy pervert.
Parody. Parody. Parody. Mpreg. Don't look at me like that.
Lesson learned
Dean/Sam, John
PG
"Dad, are you there? Pick up." A sigh. "Okay, call me when you get this. There's something...wrong with Dean and I'm not talking about his overwhelming emotional angst. He's, well, you'll see."
As the light beeped on his phone letting him know he had a message, John chuckled. He never picked up the phone on the first ring, it made him seem too easy.
He hit the button and listened to the message. Something wrong with Dean? John hoped he hadn't gotten a stripper named Candy pregnant - that was a mistake only one Winchester ever need make.
Looked like it was time to see his boys.
***
"Yes, son," John said sagely when he saw Dean, "the Winchester Family Curse strikes again."
Sam blinked owlishly from where he was sitting next to Dean's bedside, apparently rubbing his feet. John politely pretended not to notice. "You mean the one where we have an odd bond with the supernatural and everyone we love dies?"
"Ooh," John said, "good point, but not that one. The other Winchester Family Curse."
"Which one is that?" Dean demanded, an open jar of pickles perched perilously on his swollen belly.
"The one where every generation a Winchester man can become pregnant."
Sam stood up and Dean made a small displeased sound that the rubbing had stopped. "And you didn't think to tell us?"
John eyed Dean pointedly. "I didn't think it would be an issue." The next question hovered at his lips, unspoken. It was one of those things he'd never wanted to ask anyone, like what was in bologna and if Celine Dion was really Canadian. Man, he loved her voice. He licked his lips nervously. “So who did this to you?”
Dean coughed around a pickle and Sam suddenly found the floor fascinating. John’s head ping-ponged between the two of them before realization struck. He’d suspected something when they were teens and Dean continued to sneak into Sam’s bed at night, but John had always assumed Dean was just being protective. With lube and condoms.
John sighed. “This is going to be another one of those things we don’t talk about, right?”
“Yeah,” Sam said desperately. “I think that’s for the best.”
John reached out and patted Sam’s arm awkwardly. “So how far along are you?”
“Five months,” Dean answered.
“Five months? A bit unusual to be so big at five months.”
“Hello, I am pregnant,” Dean said. “What about this isn’t unusual?” At John’s look, Dean added defensively, “What? I’m retaining water.” He turned to Sam and pointed a quivering pickle in John‘s direction. “He’s calling me fat.”
Sam rubbed Dean's arm soothingly while assuring him. “No, he’s not.” Sam glared at John and hissed, “You insensitive jerk.”
John coughed. “I’m not saying that at all,” he said weakly. “You’re...quite fetching. Glowing, even.” He stopped to consider Dean for a moment and really looked at him.
When he thought about it, Dean looked like Mary, even moreso with the added weight that rounded out his sharp features. He looked softer, quieter, happy. “You look good,” he said, finally.
Dean turned over on his side, carefully, clutching his belly like there was something precious inside, which John guessed there kind of was. Sam watched anxiously, then smoothed the covers back down like Dean had done for him so many time when he’d taken ill, not that he would have let Sam know that.
“Get offa me,” he muttered, batting Sam’s hands away, even now hating to be coddled. “So have I got some kind of demon spawn in me that’s gonna eat my liver for dinner?”
John sat down on the edge of the bed, mindful of Dean’s feet. “No, it’d be a regular baby.”
Dean’s eyelids drooped tiredly, all the commotion of the day wearing him out, as he said, “Good. That’s good.”
“What’re you going to name it?”
“Her,” Sam said in a hushed voice, staring at Dean with a soft light that John remembered. “We thought we’d call her Mary.”
WC: 671
Yes, I am properly ashamed of myself.