to make a choice, to be (the) choice
for csichick_2 @ mpreg secret santa
dean x sam; pg-13; romance/angst
warning: mpreg, characters are not mine to own
summary: things changed, memories too but never the person that made them, created them. because humans, humans are the will of life.
Note: joint efforts by toyatezuka (plot bunny) and limerence_love (writer)
To make a choice, to be (the) choice;
(dean x sam)
Yes, the strong-willed, always putting the family first, Dean Winchester left home when he was twenty years of age. It was strange, how it all turned out to be, how fate twisted his past, present and future up so bad that he didn’t thought it would turn out the way it did.
Now he was back home, two months after leaving the place he called home, back on
He could never really blame anyone but himself, the things he had carried through his years as the adopted son of Mary and John Winchester was expected of him. He was the oldest son in the family, always bearing the brunt just because Mary preferred to show her dislike of his presence when they were alone, far away from prying eyes. He didn’t mind it, even when his father had said over and over again that it wasn’t his fault, that he was a
Whenever the name rang inside his head, his hand instinctively rested on his stomach. He was pregnant. Yes, people might asked how could a guy like him ever get the luck to be knocked up but here he was, carrying a life inside him and with it the hesitation of being back home.
Two months, two months weren’t enough to let the voice to fade into a dull ache. Two months weren’t enough to erase the memory of that one night that created havoc in his life. Two months, two months weren’t just fucking enough to forget that he ever had a younger brother. “Sam.” He spoke, voice hoarse due to hours of unused.
Those eyes were searching; searching for answers he very damn well knew weren’t going to be reflected in his eyes. Irritated, he swatted away the fluttering emotions as he dumped his heavy duffel bag into Sam’s arms. “Carry this one for me, will you?” Silence as Sam continued to stare. “Well, are you going to show me the way home or are we going to stand here all the day long on Christmas’s Eve?”
“I’m pregnant.” There, he had said it. No frills, no beating around the bush, no complicated words. He watched as shock evaded those orbs, felt the sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Yes.” He interrupted, not wanting to be reminded of the night he was stupid enough to let anyone to do the fucking.
“And you are supposed to be the clever one.” He replied with much sarcasm, his hands itching for a bottle of cold beer, one of the loves he had to give up upon bearing the life that was inside him. “Anyway, I’m here until the baby’s due. After that I’m giving it up for adoption.”
Yes, even through his own mouth, it felt alien to him but what more could he do? He was a guy, how the hell would he know how to change diapers or having to wake up at one in the morning just to do a bottle of hot milk? Nine months were enough of a sacrifice, should be. “I’m telling you now so that if you want the baby when he’s born, you could take it.”
“It’s a he?” Sam whispered, eyes darting down to his older brother’s stomach.
Silence. “Does having a dream of the baby being a boy counts?” He asked after a while before rolling his eyes. “For god’s sake, I’m only been pregnant for two months!”
“If you are going to drool, I swear I’m going give you a punch.”
Silence as they sat across each other, in a diner where the Winchesters boys had grown up in. Time was pushed aside as memories flickered through their mind, one at a time, piece at a time. “Don’t you want to keep the baby?” Sam whispered, the shock of his brother being pregnant still not being able to be registered in his mind.
“No.” He had decided on this, was adamant not to have second thoughts about it. This was the only reason to why he was back, knowing that Sam deserved the chance to have the baby if he didn’t want to.
“Look Dean, I’m-”
“Yea, I’m sorry too.” He cut, knew what Sam was going to say. Yea, he was fucking sorry that he couldn’t be able to keep his desire under wraps, that this was the only way out for an innocent life. Looking out the window, exhaustion etched on his features. “Where’s dad?”
It was a soft question, one that Sam couldn’t have caught if not for the word ‘dad’ in it. “In another town, maybe another country.”
“Still trying to get lucky?”
“Let’s go home, shall we?”
An upset stomach woke him up. Now this was what that got on his nerves. It’s not about drinking a gallon of unidentified concoctions at a bar or eating a bowl of cockles that had him emptying the contents of his stomach at eight in the morning but rather the usual morning sickness.
He hated this , hated hated the way he had to lean against the toilet bowl (even though it’s cooling and soothing), heaving through his nostrils as though he was eight months pregnant instead of two. Thinking that it was useless to try to get back to sleep, he stood up, his legs wobbly as he began to strip naked.
The small bathroom was alright, he thought, but he would love one of those penthouse suits that this town wasn’t lucky enough to have. He preferred life on the road, doing small projects of capturing bandits or outlaws and receiving rewards that mirrored the wage of a CEO. The job was dangerous, sure, but it was what his body was build for. The thrill, the excitement.
Well that was history the moment he took a visit down to the doctor thinking that it was mild flu.
He chuckled. Mild flu? Who was he kidding? He had the weird cravings of American wedges and headaches the size of an earthquake for two weeks before he was man enough to book an appointment with the doctor. “Stupid hormones.” He whispered just as he felt his eyes began to get teary at the thought of the beefy vision of himself seven months down the road.
It was hopeless to even think that his well-toned body wouldn’t get wasted and the extra weight would just be a few pounds. Switching the tap off, he dried himself with the white towel by the sink. Glancing at his reflection on the mirror, he couldn’t help but cursed.
Since when was having a moustache considered an option?
He turned around at the sound of his name. “Yea?”
Sam’s eyes widened at the glory view of his older brother. “Er…”
“I-I…uhm, I ask around last night and some of the town people said that you might have morning sickness in the morning.”
Something clicked in him. “Sam, when you said, you asked the whole town people, you didn’t add in the fact that I’m pregnant, right?” He asked carefully, anger trembled at the side of his eyes.
“Something like that.”
“Dammit, you did, didn’t you?” He found himself cursing for the second time that day and that was never good for the baby. Giving Sam a glare, he pointed towards the door. “
When he was ready, a plate of piping hot pancakes was on the kitchen table. Knowing that it was for him, as a way of apology from his dear insensitive little brother, he settled down, his stomach grumbling with hunger. There was a moment of silence as he dunked his slices of pancakes into the bowl of syrup before he saw his brother.
Sam hesitated, not really sure whether it was a good time at all for him to be here. “Hey.”
He nodded as he took a bite. “Sorry for snapping earlier.” Motioning for Sam to sit, he continued on the small feast, appreciative eyes looking at the pile of bacon and eggs.
“Dean, I need to ask you something.”
Something about the tone, just something about it made him knew that he wouldn’t like anything that was coming soon enough. But then again, two months were a long time for him to be gone. The past had to be touched one way or another. “I need to go off for a while.”
“Just like that?”
He cleared his throat. “No offense but after the sex we just had, besides the fact that we are both guys, we are brothers. I don’t know which is worse, being pregnant or having the hots for my own brother, could you imagine that?” He replied in the sarcastic tone of his as he continued to stuff pancakes and eggs into his mouth.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam’s eyes were wary. “Why not tell me the moment you found out that you were pregnant?”
“Because you are not the only person I’m trying to get away from.”
Silence. Dead silence. “You mean dad?”
“Or maybe Santa Claus.” He snapped. “The old guy blamed me for his wife’s death. What the hell was I supposed to do? Stay around and let him found out that I fucked his son? I’m just the adopted son, remember?”
“You are not. You are a
“And you think I don’t know that? That it’s the only reason why I stay through all those years-” He halted as he looked down on his half-filled plate. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. The past is the past and mom’s not here to defend what she thought was right.”
“You stayed for me.”
“And I’m an idiot for that.”
Sam stood, hands balling into a fist. “Then why not stay now that we have something real together? Why give it away? Why give it all away?”
He broke his gaze, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. This wasn’t supposed to be it, Sam wasn’t supposed to get this close. “I don’t want the baby.”
“Bullshit, between you and me, you are more of a father than I’ll ever be.”
“You don’t know me.”
“What if I do?” Sam walked forward, squatting down so that their eyes leveled. “I know about a brother who would stay up late at night just because I couldn’t sleep. I know about a boy who refused to leave for college even when their father beats him up so that I wouldn’t be alone. I know about you, you who I’m very sure want the baby more than anything but afraid to take the chance.”
A sniffle. “I’m not afraid.”
“Oh, I think you do, Dean. You are afraid you would mess it up like dad did but guess what? You are not dad. We will raise the baby the way we want it to be, together. And if it makes you feel any better, you are not really my brother.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. “That’s not funny.”
Sam smiled, a genuine one. “We can go through this. I’ll be there, every step of the way. You can be scared, hell I would to at times, but we will be there for each other.”
“Yes, you can, anything you want it to be, we can make it be.”
Something shifted in him, something that even when he himself was in doubt, his brother knew it all along. “I love you, Sam.”
He took a glance around the house; see the childhood memories of what they had. Even with all the shit that had happened around this place, they were happy. It was a heaven that the Winchesters had build on but circumstances made it bad, made it stale. “But not here.”
“Anywhere you want, Dean. Anywhere you want.”
[not obliged for another sequel or chapter]
csichick_2: you requested for dean mpreg and I decided to add a bit of angst and mostly thanks to the plot bunny by my sister, it turned out quite the way I wanted it to be. Your prompt was vague and gave me a lot of freedom and I really hope you like it since this was my first spn fic ever. Happy holidays! –limerence_love