Moonlight & Moss In The Trees, Chapter One (for snapshots)
Title: Moonlight And Moss In The Trees - Chapter One
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester
W/C: 1,539
Pairing/Rating: no pairing, gen (this will change in later chapters)
Summary: Dean’s early experiences loving Sammy (pre-series, Sam is still in diapers, John loves his kids but he’s really not very good at parenting)
For spn_30snapshots, prompt #17, love
I have loved you as a baby
January 24, 1986
Dean was not exactly pleased with having his entire first grade class sing the “Happy Birthday” song to him. He forced a polite smile and a quiet thank you, Ms. Price when his teacher left a cupcake on his tray as she walked past him in the lunchroom.
Cake was not exactly his favorite dessert. It was fine, he guessed, but no comparison to a warm apple pie or a peach crisp with ice cream on top. He did, however, know that his baby brother would love it. Dean wrapped the cupcake in a few napkins and put it into his lunchbox, and spent his entire walk home trying to keep the thing from getting crushed or losing all its gross blue-tinted frosting.
Reaching their latest rental place (one bedroom so John slept on the couch, and Sammy had been sharing a bed with Dean since he’d learned how to climb out of his crib and ended up hysterically crying with a goose egg way up near his hairline), his dad asked about his day at school. Dean related the events and the cupcake from his teacher, but followed it up with, “Sorry sir, I know I’m supposed to keep a low profile, not having everyone paying attention to me…”
His dad shook his head and said, “It’s only one day a year. You should enjoy it. Pick your favorite takeout, the birthday boy gets to choose dinner, you know that”, with a genuine smile that Dean didn’t see much of these days. It was nice, but Dean was Dean and before the question was fully out of his mouth, his dad jerked his chin to the left, indicating that Sammy was in the living room. Strange how he and his father could understand what he was thinking and answer his question without using words. Just another omniscient dad-skill he’d been good at for as long as Dean could remember.
Dean left his bookbag on a kitchen chair, which he might get yelled at for, but he didn’t care. Right now he had his eyes on the prize - handing his little brother the sweet dessert. Also, it was probably only an hour until dinner, and he knew he shouldn’t do this, it would only get him in more trouble (Dean clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was a ban on getting in trouble when it was your birthday), but again, eyes on the prize.
By the time Dean got into the living room, Sammy was happily playing with Army men wearing nothing but a long sleeved shirt and one of those weird diapers for when kids are just learning how to use the damn toilet (a project on which he’d been working with dedication because it’s not like their father was going to change those diapers when someone else was there to do it.)Dean wondered if his mom had forced her husband to do it while Dean was a baby; it seemed like something she would have made him do to get across the message that the messy parts of kids always were trumped by how fantastic the rest of it was.
As soon as Sam saw his brother in the room he left the green plastic war games to continue on their own. Cheerily, he bounced up in a flash and hugged his legs, shouting “Happy birfday, De. I gots a present for you” (they were doing more work on consonant sounds this weekend,) he started as he looked through the brightly colored construction paper on the other side of the floor.
“Wait, Sammy, no-” Frozen in place, Dean knew that look, the one where he’s pretty sure he’s done something terribly wrong, but has no idea what it is. “Calm down, I’m sure it’s awesome, but we do that after dinner, you know that. Anyway, forget it, because I brought you a present home from school .”
Sam’s face lit up and he eyes bugged out, but just for a second, until he told Dean (how the hell does a baby know this shit anyway), “But it’s not mine birfday, you can’t give me presents, “that’s not the rules”, he pouted.
“I’m the big brother, and you’re supposed to listen to me. And I can do what I want for my birthday”, Dean said, opening his lunch box. When he unwrapped the only-slightly-roughed-up cupcake, Sammy forgot about all the rules. Dean immediately handed it to him. “I didn’t want it but I knew you would, so there you go. Happy my birthday to you. “
Before Dean was even finished speaking, Sammy had licked off most of the icing and had bits of bright blue in his hair and all over his face. But he looked so happy and Dean loved seeing that bright grin so much that it didn’t even startle him when his dad came in and looked around the room.
“You gave him a cupcake, Dean? Seriously, dinner is in half an hour. And he’s getting cake after dinner, so now you get to share your bed with a sugar high toddler. Nice work. Now go put your backpack where it belongs and set the table”.
So maybe there was a bit of truth to Dean’s theory about birthdays and being in trouble.
Either way, they had a nice takeout dinner from KFC (Dean made sure the drumsticks went to Sam before he or his father took anything from the bucket). It seemed like a rare very nice day, with their dad here and sober and not digging through newspapers; with Sam beaming, his hair still sticky with cupcake frosting while he munched on his chicken.
After cake, though, John started pouring, so Dean took his brother into their bedroom and stared a game of “Go Fish”. An hour of playing a simple game with Sammy made Dean lose track of time. He realized it was almost seven. He knew he’d have a fight on his hands trying to get the cupcake goop out o f Sammy’s hair (Sammy would resist getting in the bath anyway) so he braced himself and announced bath time.
Sammy immediately got that look where his whole faced bunched up, but only for a moment. He mumbled, “Not gonna be a baby over it, don’t wanna be bad on your b…your…th...birthday”, he finished slowly.
Dean was proud of Sam for taking the time to work on those sounds Sam had trouble with, and he told him as much before telling him to grab some pj’s while he filled up the tub. Dean had been aware for about a year that his dad wasn’t going to give the baby (yeah, Dean still called his brother that in this head, but would never say it out loud; Sam was, after all the baby of their family) a bath or tuck him in or read him stories. He used to, Dean remembers, he even still did it after…anyway, he’s been drinking a lot more lately, leaving them with the Pastor more often, always focused on what he called ‘the job’, about which Dean knew far more than he’d been told. No matter, this was all Dean’s job now and he was good at it.
Lathering up the shampoo, Dean got Sam’s hair clean, then proceeded to wash him, asking how he got that scrape on his knee (fell in the parking lot waiting for Dad to strap in his booster seat) and how excited Sam was about preschool later this year, ()I’ll be thwee, I know it’s old enough fwom the kids in the yard next door.) Dean didn’t yell at him for going outside alone, especially since he knew how slim the chances were that Sam would actually attend preschool. Dean missed enough school just this year and was always having to start somewhere new, so it was a good thing he was smart enough to learn most things on his own.
Once Sammy was dried and dressed, Dean set a timer for two minutes while Sam brushed his teeth, then tucked him into bed, once again reading him The Lorax for about fifteen minutes until he realized Sammy was asleep.
Dean would stay a while, just to look at Sam’s peaceful expression while he was sleeping, but he had homework and was sure there would be clean-up in the kitchen. The baby had a fresh diaper and was out cold, so Dean figured he’d done all his Sammy-related tasks for the evening; time to move on to others.
He was never a straight A kid, and wouldn’t ever be one (Sammy probably will be), but he did all the homework he had, then made sure the kitchen was clean. John had his back to the kitchen, watching television and drinking, and didn’t even acknowledge Dean’s presence in the same room. That man was a hero, and it was hard work, important work, so if he needed time alone when he got back that was okay. Dean could take care of himself, mostly, and Sam was his.
Dean finally changed into his own pjs and settled next to his baby brother in the bed. He gave himself just a minute to think maybe he’d been doing a good job with Sammy.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester
W/C: 1,539
Pairing/Rating: no pairing, gen (this will change in later chapters)
Summary: Dean’s early experiences loving Sammy (pre-series, Sam is still in diapers, John loves his kids but he’s really not very good at parenting)
For spn_30snapshots, prompt #17, love
I have loved you as a baby
January 24, 1986
Dean was not exactly pleased with having his entire first grade class sing the “Happy Birthday” song to him. He forced a polite smile and a quiet thank you, Ms. Price when his teacher left a cupcake on his tray as she walked past him in the lunchroom.
Cake was not exactly his favorite dessert. It was fine, he guessed, but no comparison to a warm apple pie or a peach crisp with ice cream on top. He did, however, know that his baby brother would love it. Dean wrapped the cupcake in a few napkins and put it into his lunchbox, and spent his entire walk home trying to keep the thing from getting crushed or losing all its gross blue-tinted frosting.
Reaching their latest rental place (one bedroom so John slept on the couch, and Sammy had been sharing a bed with Dean since he’d learned how to climb out of his crib and ended up hysterically crying with a goose egg way up near his hairline), his dad asked about his day at school. Dean related the events and the cupcake from his teacher, but followed it up with, “Sorry sir, I know I’m supposed to keep a low profile, not having everyone paying attention to me…”
His dad shook his head and said, “It’s only one day a year. You should enjoy it. Pick your favorite takeout, the birthday boy gets to choose dinner, you know that”, with a genuine smile that Dean didn’t see much of these days. It was nice, but Dean was Dean and before the question was fully out of his mouth, his dad jerked his chin to the left, indicating that Sammy was in the living room. Strange how he and his father could understand what he was thinking and answer his question without using words. Just another omniscient dad-skill he’d been good at for as long as Dean could remember.
Dean left his bookbag on a kitchen chair, which he might get yelled at for, but he didn’t care. Right now he had his eyes on the prize - handing his little brother the sweet dessert. Also, it was probably only an hour until dinner, and he knew he shouldn’t do this, it would only get him in more trouble (Dean clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was a ban on getting in trouble when it was your birthday), but again, eyes on the prize.
By the time Dean got into the living room, Sammy was happily playing with Army men wearing nothing but a long sleeved shirt and one of those weird diapers for when kids are just learning how to use the damn toilet (a project on which he’d been working with dedication because it’s not like their father was going to change those diapers when someone else was there to do it.)Dean wondered if his mom had forced her husband to do it while Dean was a baby; it seemed like something she would have made him do to get across the message that the messy parts of kids always were trumped by how fantastic the rest of it was.
As soon as Sam saw his brother in the room he left the green plastic war games to continue on their own. Cheerily, he bounced up in a flash and hugged his legs, shouting “Happy birfday, De. I gots a present for you” (they were doing more work on consonant sounds this weekend,) he started as he looked through the brightly colored construction paper on the other side of the floor.
“Wait, Sammy, no-” Frozen in place, Dean knew that look, the one where he’s pretty sure he’s done something terribly wrong, but has no idea what it is. “Calm down, I’m sure it’s awesome, but we do that after dinner, you know that. Anyway, forget it, because I brought you a present home from school .”
Sam’s face lit up and he eyes bugged out, but just for a second, until he told Dean (how the hell does a baby know this shit anyway), “But it’s not mine birfday, you can’t give me presents, “that’s not the rules”, he pouted.
“I’m the big brother, and you’re supposed to listen to me. And I can do what I want for my birthday”, Dean said, opening his lunch box. When he unwrapped the only-slightly-roughed-up cupcake, Sammy forgot about all the rules. Dean immediately handed it to him. “I didn’t want it but I knew you would, so there you go. Happy my birthday to you. “
Before Dean was even finished speaking, Sammy had licked off most of the icing and had bits of bright blue in his hair and all over his face. But he looked so happy and Dean loved seeing that bright grin so much that it didn’t even startle him when his dad came in and looked around the room.
“You gave him a cupcake, Dean? Seriously, dinner is in half an hour. And he’s getting cake after dinner, so now you get to share your bed with a sugar high toddler. Nice work. Now go put your backpack where it belongs and set the table”.
So maybe there was a bit of truth to Dean’s theory about birthdays and being in trouble.
Either way, they had a nice takeout dinner from KFC (Dean made sure the drumsticks went to Sam before he or his father took anything from the bucket). It seemed like a rare very nice day, with their dad here and sober and not digging through newspapers; with Sam beaming, his hair still sticky with cupcake frosting while he munched on his chicken.
After cake, though, John started pouring, so Dean took his brother into their bedroom and stared a game of “Go Fish”. An hour of playing a simple game with Sammy made Dean lose track of time. He realized it was almost seven. He knew he’d have a fight on his hands trying to get the cupcake goop out o f Sammy’s hair (Sammy would resist getting in the bath anyway) so he braced himself and announced bath time.
Sammy immediately got that look where his whole faced bunched up, but only for a moment. He mumbled, “Not gonna be a baby over it, don’t wanna be bad on your b…your…th...birthday”, he finished slowly.
Dean was proud of Sam for taking the time to work on those sounds Sam had trouble with, and he told him as much before telling him to grab some pj’s while he filled up the tub. Dean had been aware for about a year that his dad wasn’t going to give the baby (yeah, Dean still called his brother that in this head, but would never say it out loud; Sam was, after all the baby of their family) a bath or tuck him in or read him stories. He used to, Dean remembers, he even still did it after…anyway, he’s been drinking a lot more lately, leaving them with the Pastor more often, always focused on what he called ‘the job’, about which Dean knew far more than he’d been told. No matter, this was all Dean’s job now and he was good at it.
Lathering up the shampoo, Dean got Sam’s hair clean, then proceeded to wash him, asking how he got that scrape on his knee (fell in the parking lot waiting for Dad to strap in his booster seat) and how excited Sam was about preschool later this year, ()I’ll be thwee, I know it’s old enough fwom the kids in the yard next door.) Dean didn’t yell at him for going outside alone, especially since he knew how slim the chances were that Sam would actually attend preschool. Dean missed enough school just this year and was always having to start somewhere new, so it was a good thing he was smart enough to learn most things on his own.
Once Sammy was dried and dressed, Dean set a timer for two minutes while Sam brushed his teeth, then tucked him into bed, once again reading him The Lorax for about fifteen minutes until he realized Sammy was asleep.
Dean would stay a while, just to look at Sam’s peaceful expression while he was sleeping, but he had homework and was sure there would be clean-up in the kitchen. The baby had a fresh diaper and was out cold, so Dean figured he’d done all his Sammy-related tasks for the evening; time to move on to others.
He was never a straight A kid, and wouldn’t ever be one (Sammy probably will be), but he did all the homework he had, then made sure the kitchen was clean. John had his back to the kitchen, watching television and drinking, and didn’t even acknowledge Dean’s presence in the same room. That man was a hero, and it was hard work, important work, so if he needed time alone when he got back that was okay. Dean could take care of himself, mostly, and Sam was his.
Dean finally changed into his own pjs and settled next to his baby brother in the bed. He gave himself just a minute to think maybe he’d been doing a good job with Sammy.