My third year attending the UKS panel at Upright Citizen’s Brigade on Thursday was so unfudging believable that when I woke up this morning, at first I thought it had been a dream. If you don’t think these writers and cast actually care, you’d be wrong.
Can we talk about this scene? Okay, we all know this is a heartbreaking moment for everyone involved, but there is something that really stood out to me. The last thing Dean says to his mom is, “You’re home now,” which sets off the rest of the conversation. There is nearly four minutes after this where Mary continues to talk and then the episode ends, and Dean says absolutely nothing at all. Four minutes of no dialogue whatsoever on his part. Mary keeps explaining, leaving these long moments between sentences where she expects Dean to say something and he doesn’t, so she jumps in again and tries to explain more. When Sam finally interjects and asks what she means, it’s only after a quick look to Dean to realize he’s not going to do it. Even Sam is expecting him to say something, and he just doesn’t. This is so important to me. Can you recall a time in the series where Dean is in the shot for more than a few minutes and doesn’t say anything? Or a time when someone repeatedly trails off to let him respond and then he doesn’t? This is the first real time where we’ve seen Dean so thoroughly broken and upset that he physically doesn’t have words. He is rendered speechless. You can see it in the way he breathes, the way he audibly exhales in disbelief, the way he blinks in this quick progression as he processes what must feel like his heart being ripped out of his chest. He could beg his mom to stay. Plead with her. Tell her things will get better and everything will be okay. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mom waits for it. Sam waits for it (Sam, who knows him better than anyone else, waits for him to say something). And there’s nothing. No questions. No promises. No attempt to do anything at all to sway her decision. The last thing he says is, “You’re home now.”
You finally get some
field work when Coulson asks you, May and Skye to come with him to the
train station. It turns out the woman stealing millions of diamonds is
someone Coulson trained.
“This is Adam all over again.” You complain. Everyone throws you a look.
“Who’s Adam?” Ward asks.
“My brother, well- it’s
actually a long and complicated story.” You answer as you mindlessly
touch your abdomen, right where the demon possessing Adam stabbed you.
You were 8 or 9 at the
time, still innocent about the world and the the fact the supernatural
exists. Adam walked into your room at Bobby’s and you smiled at your
brother thinking he wanted to play with you. Instead of sitting down
next to you and playing with you and your toys like he normally did-
your brother pulled out a blade of some kind then promptly stabbed you
in the kidney (at least close to it) the blade also hit a major artery.
Your scream made Sam and
Dean come running- as well as made Adam snap out of the demon’s
control. One of them held you in their arms telling you to stay with
them, and someone, more than likely Dean, yelling for Cas to get his
feathery ass to Bobby’s that instant. You don’t really remember what
happened next… you do, however, remember waking up in Sam’s lap. He was
gently stroking your hair, and (favorite children’s book) was being read
aloud by Dean… Adam was nowhere in sight.
“Hey Y/N, you in there?” Skye asks pulling you from your thoughts and memories.
“Yeah, just lost in thought as well as having a memory.” You reply.
ANYWAY, I made a bunch of septiplier fluffy floofy-ness cuz why not :D and i don’t think i ever mentioned the time where i had a dream that Mark and Jack were my parents huh? Well, Mark was my biological father but him and my mom split up and for some reason i was sent to go live with him and his new boyfriend “Jack” but whatever you don’t wanna hear about my dream… do not tag them pls ;-;
He rationalizes it to what the old Sam was feeling before. Or maybe it’s just another anomaly, and he can deal with that. He is an anomaly.
At first, when he sees Dean at the table with Lisa and Ben, it’s faint. He chalked it up to the ache of the usual family bullshit.
“You’re, like, father material.”
Sam can’t ignore it this time. Dean and the shifter-baby, taking such good care of it with soft and tentative hands. It makes Sam really smile, a warm feeling somewhere in his empty chest. It doesn’t help that he goes a little hot with some arousal as he watches Dean shrug off the praise with a bashful smile.
That’s the first time Sam gets the urge to rub at his stomach.
There isn’t anyway Sam can have babies, but fuck, he feels like he’s got baby-fever. There’s the usual detachment when Samuel let’s their cousins have the kid, it was more trouble than it was worth anyway. But Dean seems to have trouble letting it go, Sam can’t decide it’s for moral reasons or because Dean actually liked the kid. He doesn’t care because it isn’t their baby.
His sleepless nights leave him craving and uncomfortable. Sleeping with women don’t make it any easier. All he wants to do is study them and envy. Their bellies can grow full and big with children while Sam has to sit back and dream that it was him. Day-dream, anyway, but old thoughts creep up on him. This was before Hell and before Stanford. This has been stewing since he was a teen, yearning to give Dean everything and anything. To share it all with the guy he loved.
All he gets are odd looks from his brother, like he doesn’t know who Sam is. There’s something akin to hurt due to the fact that he has thoughts and day dreams of being swollen with child, green eyed and freckled. He sometimes watches Dean sleep, absently rubbing at his tummy with his brow creased together. All he can ever feel are hard ridges of well earned muscle, Sam doesn’t think that feels like a home for a small, fragile thing.
He pets at himself gently in mirrors, shirtless, as he distends his stomach. Just to mock a pregnancy, but it’s barely enough. Sam just paces a little in the mirror, and imagines Dean watching him with a fond smile on his face as Sam snaps that this is his child, too, come give him a foot massage or something. Sam knows he could kidnap a witch, force her to give him what he needs to carry a baby. The problem would be convincing Dean to have sex with him, he’s trying with Lisa, and he is not the Sam his older brother knows. So the whole brother fucking thing is done and over. These are great lengths he knows wold be futile.
He wouldn’t be able to give the kid as much love and care as it deserves, not anything past obligatory, or without the inspiration of seeing Dean do it. That’s the part he enjoys most. Thinking about Dean with the baby. Seeing Dean be a loving Father to his own child. To their child.
It hurts when Dean doesn’t trust Sam to talk to children who have witnessed their monster of the week, a kid that just happens to be around as they speak to their parent, or one they just come across. Sam can be nice, but he looms no matter what he does, or how much he’s ever shrunk in. Being soulless has gave him confidence to use his height and not to ever try to make himself look smaller, but the kids run from him like–like he’s some monster. And he looks over and can see Dean cringing whenever he tries to be nice.
It makes him livid. He wants to claw at his insides sometimes. He wants his soul back once in awhile. He wants to bear children, so he and Dean can have something that’s them, shared and–and mixed and beautiful. Let him have this one thing, give it to him, he’s had enough of all the bad shit.
He ends up back in the Impala, again. He scared the two kids inside. He softly pets it, gently runs his hand over his dress shirt in circles. The phantom ache grows tenfold when he sees a pregnant woman across the street. Sam can’t believe he’d be happy if he got knocked up. To want Dean to have him barefoot and pregnant. Sam can see himself now: flushed face, small smile, and another hand that is not his own soothing the kicking baby inside him.
“You alright, dude?” Dean asks as he pulls the car door open.
He blinks his eyes open, “Yeah, yeah. I-I’m just thinking. Just this ache I have, too.”
His voice is a whisper as he watches the pregnant woman turn the corner. His hand rasping against his dress shirt as he continues to rub his flat tummy.