Thinking about John coming back in the Lebanon episode and realizing San is pregnant
And then realizing that it's Dean's baby
❤
_
At first, he's too caught up in the shock of the general situation to notice. But then he's hugging his weeping son in the library and can't help but feel the curve of Sam's belly against him.
John's thoughts flash to the way Dean had babied Sam after their blind skirmish when he arrived; the water Dean handed his brother instead of whiskey earlier; the way Dean's hand had supported his brother's back ever so slightly as they'd left the kitchen, so naturally.
He's just had a good talk with his younger son, though; said some things he never thought he'd say out loud; connected. He doesn't want to ruin that by letting Sam see his worry, but he can't help wondering what happened to Sam's partner since Sam hasn't mentioned one.
"You didn't say anything about this yet," John says, spanning a hand over Sam's belly and rubbing, trying for lighthearted.
Sam gasps and flinches back, but seems to catch himself and moves back into his touch. Clears his throat and tries out a sheepish smile as he offers, "You're gonna be a grampa?"
"How far along?" John looks into Sam's eyes, hoping he'll answer what John's not asking.
There's something dark and complicated in Sam's eyes, just before he blushes and ducks a smile. "Almost five months."
Then Sam begs off to find Dean, and John is too distracted by Mary to ask her anything about their children. Besides, he'll have plenty of time to find out now that he's here.
_
Turns out he doesn't have all the time in the world, so he just wants to make some happy memories before he leaves them. They didn't bring him here to pick apart their lives, and there's already enough unraveling around here from his time traveling. But--
'I have a family.'
There had been such openness in Dean when he'd said it. A depth of meaning and context John will never get to learn. But he'd seen just an edge of worry there, too; an edge of guilt.
John had figured it was because Dean knew John didn't just mean for him to look after his little brother his whole life -- that John wanted him to have his own wife and home and kids. But again John had chosen peace over arguing for the time he had left here.
But now, John's eyes keep catching the way Dean pays extra attention to Sam as they eat dinner, helping him with food and getting up for things so Sam doesn't have to. The way Dean's arm stays mostly draped behind his brother, their chairs closer than his and Mary's. Sam makes a small noise or movement and Dean is shifting to respond with a hand on Sam's belly, rubbing or chastising Sam for eating too quickly.
And still, no one has mentioned the other parent of Sam's baby.
It's when Dean looks eagerly across at him and says, "Dad, come feel your grandson kick!" with all the audacity of a proud papa that John starts to think his subconscious had a different reason for not asking any of those questions...
Dean, not Sam, directs John where to put his hand. Then Dean snugs his hand below John's, and John knows he didn't imagine that adoring look he saw Sam give Dean as he groped for a spot.
But surely this is just more of Dean's protective big brother behavior. John can see, for all the good his sons have done for this world, he did set them up for this apparent codependency, didn't he?
"A son, huh? What are you going to name him?"
John directs the question to Sam, but Dean answers, "Well, we already named a kid after you--"
"--and Bobby," Sam cuts in, with a look that John labels "wifey" with a sinking stomach.
"--and Bobby," Dean agrees, with the tone of a humoring husband. "So we were thinking Henry..."
And it's at that point that John really starts to hope this is a dream...
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what is the mary/otis things? is that from house if a 1000 corpses?
HI!! IT IS ACTUALLY. It's going to be, (I say that so LOVINGLY because It's been in my docs for months.) A fic centering around Mary and Otis, IF ONLY because he called her 'Mama' and kissed her, I was immediately taken with the idea of shipping them. I've actually been in love with the idea of them as a couple since I was a KID! I've been a huge Zombie Head for years, his halloween films are what sparked my love for Micheal! (Under the cut, you'll find a piece of what I've written so far!)
Mary shuddered at the thought. She’s read about Stockholm Syndrome before. The very idea that she could ever fall in love with Otis made her sick. Just him touching her made her violently ill. Mary hated it when he touched her. Bill was never rough with her. Bill was her only boyfriend, her first everything; he was supposed to be her first everything and last everything. Mary wanted to turn herself inside out, scrub at all the membranes, soak all her nerves in bleach; she wanted to feel clean again. Otis was rough, he’d always been rough. He liked to pull hair, drag his teeth down her throat; bruises, Otis loved to leave bruises. All over her arms, legs, he found a sick fascination in trying to bruise her inner thighs; which he often managed.
Bill never called her names. Otis thrived off insulting her, his whore. That was his favorite thing to call her. His. Mary tried not to think too much about that. The sudden invasion of his fingers made her hiss through clenched teeth and go stiff from the pain. Otis pushed himself against her, bucking the bulge in his pants against her ass.
“No good morning kiss, mama?” He teased, breath hot and rotten against her face. Mary hated that name too, it’s what he called her the first time he kissed her. Mama, a nicer endearment than anything else he called her, she supposed.
“Don’t touch me,” Mary hissed. Shifting her hips out of rhythm with his fingers, trying desperately to force him out. It only caused more pain, everything Otis did caused pain for her. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
Grunting, he removed his fingers. “Why can’t you ever just be fucking pleasant,” he muttered, shoving himself away from her and the bed; retreating to the crude bathroom addition to his room.
This was…new. Otis screamed, whined, hit, bit and threatened; but he never seemed upset by her constant refusal. Maybe today was the start of the downfall, the idea almost made her…sad. How else were you supposed to feel when you're looking death in the face? Maybe relief or fear. Would she beg for what’s become of her life when the time came? Would she promise to be better to him? Mary thought again of her friends. She remembered what he did to Bill.
When the time came, she’d be sure to spit in his face.
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