FIC - What Now? 7/?
Nov. 2nd, 2011 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verucasalt123
title: What Now? 7/?
pairing: Sam/Dean
rating: R/NC-17 eventually, there will be Wincest at some point
summary: Pre-series. Sam ends up with a baby, and copes as long as he can on his own. Additional chapters will be added as they show up in my brain.
A/N: Some issues to work out. A kind of short chapter, but I hope y’all like it. Might be a couple of days before I get the next one posted.
Sam was shocked when he got a grumbled “Yeah?” on the other end of the line instead of a voice mail greeting.
“Dad.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry it’s been so long. I need to talk to you, though, it’s important, if you have time.”
“Course I have time, son. Are you all right?”
Sam’s heart nearly broke at the concern he heard in his father’s voice. The last words they’d said to each other, so long ago, were filled with anger and seemed so final at the time.
“I’m all right. I’m still in California, and Dean’s here with me. He’s gonna stay a while, I think.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Dean all right?”
“Yeah, Dad, we’re both fine. But…there are some things I need to tell you. I should have told you sooner, but…”
“I know, son. I know. Just tell me what’s going on. How’s school? Do you need anything?”
“I’m not in school anymore. I, uh…”, Sam took a deep breath, and just came out with it. “I had a baby. So, you know, I had to put it on hold for a while.”
Another pause. Longer this time. “A baby? Don’t tell me you got married, please, you’re too young…”
“No, Dad, the mother’s not in the picture. It’s a long story. Anyway, I’m working a construction job and I only just called Dean to tell him a couple days ago. He showed up here and he decided – we decided – that he’d stay here with us for now.”
“Jesus, Sam. If I’m being honest, I can’t say I blame you for not calling me sooner. I was a stupid fuck when you left, and I’ve never stopped regretting the way that all went down. But thank you for calling me. I need to know, though…tell me, please. I have a grandchild? Boy or girl?”
“A boy. I named him James Caleb, but I just call him Jay.”
“Fine names, son, Caleb and Pastor Jim would be thrilled to know you thought enough of them to pass on their names to your son. I’m sorry about school. I know how hard you worked…please tell me you’re planning to go back.”
“Dad, I don’t know. Maybe. But for now I have to concentrate on what’s best for Jay.”
John signed on the other end of the connection, his voice tinged with emotion when he responded. “Giving him something better than I ever gave you and Dean, I’m sure of that.”
“Don’t say that, I know what we had growing up wasn’t perfect, but it’s not like I’ve got any kind of perfect going on here. Just doing the best I can. And having Dean here – it’s like we’re a family again.”
“I understand, Sam. And I know you’re probably still angry, I wouldn’t blame you, but I’d love to meet him sometime, when you’re ready.”
“It might be a little while before I’m ready. I hope you really do understand. This isn’t easy for me, and I’m sure it’s not easy for you, either.”
“Yeah, I know. It might take a little time. But if you and Dean could manage to work things out after all this time, maybe you could eventually give me a chance too?”
“Look, I know it’s a long way off, and I have no idea whether or not Dean will still be here, but maybe you could come for Thanksgiving?”
“Absolutely. Thank you, son. Thanks for calling, and thanks for inviting me. Give me your address, at least, so I can send something for the baby?”
“Of course.” Sam rattled off the address for his apartment, a little shell-shocked at how this conversation had ended up. “Keep it, so you can find your way here for the holidays, all right?”
“Sure. You tell that boy his grandpa – fuck, grandpa?” John laughed, “can’t wait to meet him.”
“You got it, Dad. And now you have my number, so call whenever you want, okay?”
“Okay, Sam. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Sam set his phone down and walked into the kitchen, leaning heavily on the counter.
“No voice mail, then, huh?” Dean asked.
“Nope. No fighting, either. Maybe time really does heal wounds, hokey as it sounds.”
“I think you’re right.”
Dean moved closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sam froze, trying very hard to keep his breath even and measured.
“It’s all gonna work out fine, Sammy. Trust me on this. When I got here, you were a wreck. Now, you look happy. You look…”
“What?”
“Good. You look good, Sam”, Dean replied, not moving his hand from Sam’s shoulder. Sam was studying the floor intently, afraid to look at his brother’s face, and Dean backed off. “I mean, you look, uh, you know, well-rested. Um, healthy.”
Sam thought there might be more behind Dean’s words, but he was far too afraid to give away his own feelings so he looked away and forced himself to grin. “I feel so much better having you here. You have no idea.”
“No, I think I might have some idea.”
At that point, Sam couldn’t help himself. He risked a glance at Dean, who was now moving closer, reaching out his hand, and no, this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be happening, but he felt Dean’s hand cupping his cheek, turning his head so they were eye to eye.
For just a moment, it seemed like Dean was still moving toward him, but all of a sudden, he backed away again, his hand falling to his side. “Sorry, Sam.” Dean shook his head, like he was trying to sweep something away.
More than anything else in the world, Sam wanted to tell his brother not to be sorry, wanted to lean into the touch he’d just lost, but no matter what either of them was feeling, it was clear that Dean wasn’t ready to address it. Feeling how precarious the emotions in the room were, Sam wasn’t willing to push it.
“It’s getting late. Jay’s sound asleep in his new fancy-ass crib that his Uncle Dean got him. Maybe we should turn in.”
Dean agreed quickly, and they went their separate ways, Sam to his bed and Dean to the sofa.
Closing the door to his bedroom, Sam whispered “See you in the morning, Dean”, before settling himself into bed.
It was a long, long time before Sam was able to sleep. Hopefully he was quiet enough as he made himself come again, the phantom touch of Dean’s hand on his face still lingering. What the hell was going on? He didn’t want to set himself up for a huge disappointment, it would just be too crushing to hope Dean might want him too only to find out that he’d misinterpreted their brief exchange in the kitchen. He tried so hard to push it out of his mind, but even after he’d gotten himself off, he couldn’t make it go away. The sound of Dean’s voice, his words, his touch. Maybe he hadn’t been imagining things after all. What seemed like hours later, he finally fell asleep.
He had no idea that he wasn’t the only Winchester brother struggling to find sleep after jerking himself off quietly with long-buried thoughts pushing their way to the surface again.
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