First Six Months

Dean couldn’t figure out what Sam’s problem was, but he was about ready to pop his brother in the face. He’d been hovering incessantly for the last week, always getting in the way and being way too damn nice about everything. Worst of all, the lines of worry that had come to dominate his brother’s expression before the contract had come due had resurfaced. There was something big going on under his brother’s thick skull and Dean would find out what if it killed him.

Knowing Sam as he did, a direct approach would only make him clam up. So first he called Amanda and asked, “Anything weird happen to kids around John’s age that I should know about?”

Sounding startled, she answered, “Five months? No, not generally. There are a few diseases that can crop up, but they’re pretty rare. Why? What’s going on?”

“Sam’s just acting weird,” Dean explained. “Probably read something online and is freaking about it.”

She chuckled and agreed, “Probably. Just remind him that John’s six month check-up is next week and he’ll get a full workup.”

That clicked in Dean’s head and he suddenly knew what was going on. He answered absently, “I will,” and hung up.

Sam, the big idiot, was thinking that the demon they had wiped from every plane of existence, was somehow going to show up, kill Dean and alter John. Sighing, he looked over at John hanging in his bouncy seat and said, “Your other dad’s a moron, you know that?”

John gurgled in agreement, giving an extra bounce.

The actual date of John’s six month birthday, so to speak, was in eight days. Too much time for Sam not to go crazy with worry. His brother had too much imagination for his own good. Shaking his head, Dean tugged John carefully free and walked to the living room to get John suited up fro travel. It might be March, but the temperature just would not go above fifty. It took a while to get the jacket and sneakers on his wriggling, laughing son.

Finally ready, Dean tapped John lightly on the nose and said, “Okay spanky, let’s go see what dorkus is up to at work.”

It was a twenty minute drive to the town hall building and, of course, there was no one outside so Dean parked right next to the Impala. He waved at a few people he knew on the way to the Sheriff’s offices.

Sam was manning the front desk for some reason and he looked up from a book when Dean opened the door. Surprise and happiness lit the other man’s face as he exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

Dean flashed him a grin and met him halfway, saying, “LJ decided he wanted to take a drive.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Sam replied, snorting.

Dean handed John over and leaned against the desk, watching his brother tickle John into laughing. He said casually, “Talked to Amanda today.”

Engrossed in LJ, Sam only replied, “Yeah? How is she?”

“She’s fine,” Dean answered. “Reminded me that John’s six month check-up is next week.”

Instant tightening around the eyes and flexing of Sam’s jaw. Bingo.

Sam’s voice was calm enough as he said, “That’s right. I’d almost forgotten.”

Dean almost called him on the whole thing right there, but didn’t. This was no place to tell Sam that he was being an idiot. No, he would need to get his brother good and relaxed before doing that, which meant home, after a good meal and some cheap wine. They hung out for another half hour until Dean brought up some errands that needed doing.

Sam handed LJ back and kissed Dean softly before ordering firmly, “Be careful.”

Dean saluted sharply and agreed, “Ya volt, mon capitan.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam insulted affectionately, “Dork.”

“Takes one to know one, Sammy,” Dean quipped, winking.

Dean left with a squirmy John in his arms. He easily settled the boy in the car seat and then headed for the grocery store. It still struck him as strange, saying hello to Alice in the bakery and Jack at the register. Always before, small towns had given him the urge to rev the engine and blast the radio on his way out; at least since he’d been old enough to know how to flip someone the bird. Maybe it was having his own kid, or maybe Sam had calmed him down enough at last, but those urges had trickled to nothing in the last six months. Now he knew his neighbors, his neighbors’ kids, the people at the grocery and even the mailman, Frank.

Scooping John into his arms, Dean brought him inside and put him in the playpen. It didn’t take long to bring in the groceries and unpack them. As he worked, he kept up a running monologue for LJ in the other room, getting a babble of nonsense in return. The afternoon passed quickly, since Dean was bound and determined to get a decent dinner ready for when Sam came home. Not that they didn’t eat well every night, but it was usually a tag-team effort. This time, though, he had the pork chops done and the vegetables almost done when Sam walked through the door.

“Honey, I’m home!” Sam called, entering the kitchen.

Dean snorted. “This honey ain’t gonna be sweet much longer if you keep that up.”

Sam chuckled and then breathed deep and observed, “Hey, something smells great! What’s the occasion?”

Pouring a glass of wine, he handed it to Sam and answered, “No occasion. Just thought I’d fatten you up a little.”

Sam sipped at the wine and moved to kiss the top of John’s head where he sat in the high chair. “Hey you. How’s my boy tonight?”

John gurgled at him and exclaimed, “Hell! Da!”

Way to go, kid, Dean thought, mentally sighing at the way Sam stiffened. Deliberately misinterpreting, he heaved a loud sigh and asked, “Are you ever going to let me live that down? Hell’s not all that bad a swear, all things considered. He could’ve picked up on fu…”

Sam clapped a hand over Dean’s mouth, but grinned as he asked, “Let’s not tempt fate, okay?”

Chuckling, Dean kissed Sam’s fingers and moved over to the stove. He said casually, “Why don’t you get him cleaned up and into bed?”

“I can only try,” Sam replied, smiling as he disengaged the mini-seatbelt and picked John up.

Dean watched them go and breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. It was nearly twenty minutes before Sam returned and by then, Dean had dinner on the table and had lowered the lights.

Eyebrows rising as he took in the scene, Sam said, “Okay, now I know you want something.”

Dean smirked and countered, “Maybe I just want to get lucky tonight.”

Snickering, Sam told him, “No need to feed me for that, but thanks.”

Dean deliberately kept conversation to amusing anecdotes about their neighbors and his run in at the library with the new book nazi who’d taken exception to LJ mouthing one of the plastic dvd covers. Sam had had two glasses of wine by the end of dinner and had mellowed considerably.

“I mean, it’s not like any of the other mothers even blinked at it. And besides, I wiped them down, so who would know?” Dean finished in a grumble.

Sam got a sudden fit of the giggles.

Dean grinned fondly at him and accused, “Lightweight.”

Clearing his throat, Sam got control of himself enough to gasp, “You said, ‘other mothers,’” and went off again.

Dean’s gaze narrowed at his brother. Stressed or not, that couldn’t be allowed to pass unanswered. He said darkly, “Someone’s not thinking with the right head.”

Sam’s giggles slowed to a stop almost right away, but his eyes still twinkled as he said, “Sorry, Dean. But you have to admit you left yourself wide open there.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean retorted, “You’re really trying to sleep on the sofa tonight, aren’t you?”

Sam stood and walked over to him, unexpectedly straddling Dean’s lap and sitting on him. His smile was pure love as he rested his arms on Dean’s shoulders and took his mouth in a deep, easy kiss. Leaning back a little, he murmured, “Sure you want to do that?”

Pretending to think about it, Dean replied, “I guess I could forgive you. But you have to do something for me first.”

“Anything,” Sam readily agreed.

Dean kept his hands on Sam’s waist as he said, “Stop thinking that yellow eyed son of a bitch is going to show up to kill me and mess with John.”

Sam’s eyes widened almost comically and he instantly tried to get up. Dean held tight, though, and Sam stopped moving when they almost toppled over. Glaring at him Sam snapped, “Let go!”

“Or what?” Dean challenged. “Sam, it’s not going to happen. That bastard doesn’t even exist anymore because we destroyed it! It can’t come back to hurt us!”

Sam continued glaring at him, so Dean sighed and let him go. Instantly on his feet, Sam stalked out of the kitchen without another word. The front door slammed a few seconds later.

Groaning, Dean stared at the remnants of dinner and muttered, “That went well.”

* * * *

It wasn’t the first time Sam didn’t make it to bed. It was, however, the first time in a long time that it was due to a fight they’d had. Dean eventually fell asleep, but it took forever. When he woke to an empty bed the following morning, he sighed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before sitting up. He jumped, startled at finding Sam staring at him from the chair beside the dresser just watching him. Cautious, Dean greeted, “Morning.”

“You know, I’ve been sitting her a while now thinking about what pissed me off the most,” Sam began quietly. “That you ambushed me, or that you manipulated me.”

Dean winced and said, “Sam, I…”

“Shut up, Dean.”

He shut up.

“So I was sitting here and building up a pretty good head of steam when it occurred to me that I didn’t give you much of a choice. You obviously picked up on what was bothering me and that I didn’t want to discuss it. That doesn’t excuse what you did, and I’m still pissed about it, but I understand why you did it.”

When it seemed like Sam wasn’t going to say any more, Dean asked, “So what now?”

“Now I really want to yell at you and kick your ass, but it would upset John. Not to mention wake him up when I just got him back down,” Sam replied, wry.

Surprised, Dean said, “I didn’t even hear him wake up.”

Sam commented, “You were tired. Which brings up something else.”

Dean gave his brother a wary look as he walked to the bed and sat next to him. “What’s that?”

“I’ve been taking advantage of you,” Sam told him.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, right, Sam.”

Sam took his hand and insisted, “I have! Dean, you’re stuck in this house almost 24/7, other than errands. You take care of John and the house and the bills…”

“If this is leading up to another ‘mother’ crack, I really am going to kick your ass,” Dean warned.

Shaking his head, Sam explained, “No, but that’s what I’m talking about. Dean, don’t you want to do something else?”

Dean frowned and questioned, “Like what? And with what money? You barely make money as it is.”

“I don’t know what, but whatever it might be, we’ll figure out a way to make it happen,” Sam stated firmly. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. I don’t want you to…regret anything. Or regret not doing something, whether it’s, it’s hunting or working on cars, or whatever.”

Dean was about to tell him not to be stupid, but Sam was very serious; it was all right there in his eyes. Awkward, Dean finally agreed, “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

Sam smiled and then climbed onto the bed and, naturally, Dean. Pushing him down, Sam informed him, “Now you can make it up to me for being such a manipulative dick last night.”

Dean laughed and shoved at him, but couldn’t avoid the messy kiss against his ear or the following raspberry.