No More Tears
Summary: Sammy never liked bath time. Johns POV.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, sadly
This was intended to be a general fic, but the ending can be read as wincest if you really want it to.
Mary was giving Sammy a bath in the kitchen sink; running water over his small chubby arms as he howled on and on. I stood there, a bright yellow duck towel with an orange beak thrown over my shoulder, water dripping down the front of my shirt from trying to put Sammy in the tub and then for trying to keep him still while in the tub (before he stopped struggling and just screamed), a duck in my hand that I had in front of Sam's face, squeezing it front of him as you would a squeaky toy to a dog.
"John, get him to stay quiet, will you?" Mary reprimanded me, we have been trying to get him to be quite for the last 10 minutes, we went through this every time we gave him a bath; the boy just didn't like to be clean.
"I'm trying," I sighed back, my last nerve getting ready to break.
"Well try harder!" We were both tried and exhausted.
"I can help…" Deans commented from the safe distance of the kitchen doorway.
"It's ok, sweetie, why don't you just go play with your cars while we finish up?" Mary stated her voice overly sweet.
"But I want to help," Dean whined, cautiously walking towards us.
"Dean, no." Mary said.
"God, dammit Mary, just let him do what he wants and just finish with his hair, will you?" We usually didn't let Dean be around when we bathed Sam, we didn't want both of them to be upset, but today I didn't care.
"John, language!" Mary scolded me. While she did this, Dean had already pulled a chair up next to the open space by me, climbed up, and leaned forward so he could see past me and look at his brother.
"Hey Sammy, what's up?" Dean asked casually. Sam quieted down, opened his big brown eyes, and locked them with Deans green ones tears still leaking from eyes. Dean reached his hand out, hands squeezed into a knuckle, except for his pointer finger which was sticking out. Sammy wrapped his tiny fingers around it, pulled it forward (which didn't do much because Dean's arm wasn't long enough and he was already on the edge of the chair), and leaned forward, sticking Dean's finger in to his mouth and sucked like Dean's finger was his pacifier.
"He just wanted his pacifier?" I whined, though I'd deny it later, besides it was worth it when Mary laughed.
"Well why didn't we ever think of that?" She smiled at me and we finished Sam's bath in record time. I picked Sammy up in his duck towel, Dean's finger getting pulled out of his mouth in the process.
"Ewww" Dean complained, wiping his slobbery finger on his shirt.
"You saved the day, Dean. Just for that, we'll have some pie after supper." Mary praised.
"Way to go kid." I gave Dean a high-five with one hand while the other held Sammy. Dean turned red with the praise, smile lighting up his whole face,
"Really?" he jumped off the chair, much to Mary's dismay ("Dean, be careful!"). "Can it be ice cream instead?" he asked as he pushed the chair back to its original spot like the good kid he was. Mary and I gave each other a surprised glance,
"You don't like pie anymore?" Mary asked and Dean gave her a horrified look.
"No, I love pie!"
"Then why don't you want it, son?" I handed Sam to Mary so I could crouch down in front of him.
" 'Cause Sammy can't eat pie, he ain't got 'nough teef, and ice cream just melts in your mouth." Dean said in matter-of-fact of fact tone, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I smiled
"Ok, ice cream it is. Now go wash your hands for dinner, champ." I said and ruffled his hair before he turned and ran towards the bathroom. I turned to Mary who was smiling warmly after Dean. I could feel the waves of pride pouring from her small body; I imagined she could feel mine too. She turned back to me and leaned up as I leaned down so our lips would touch gently in the middle, a promise for later. I took Sammy still wrapped in his towel as Mary went to take the roast out of the oven. I went to unplug the sink so the water would drain and Sam started squirming automatically, a whole new wave of tears falling down his cheeks as he opened his mouth to wail, but Dean walked in and instead he just let out a huff of air. I looked at him curiously then back at Dean who held out Sam's pacifier for me, I took it and stuck it in Sam's mouth before taking him to go get his pajamas on. Two days later, Dean's down for a nap and Sam's a complete mess, Mary puts Sam's pacifier in his mouth while I turn on the sink and get out the baby shampoo, Mary carried him over and just as she unsnapped Sam's top he let out a whimper through his pacifier, a warning. Mary and I glanced at each other,
"Well we wouldn't want to wake Dean up…." I said slowly.
"We'll wait till he's awake." Mary agreed. An hour later Dean's sitting on the kitchen counter as he tells us about the dream he had about batman killing a giant brussel-sprout and then him and batman eating some blueberry pie (which he stated was batman's favorite because it was dark blue like his costume) in the bat cave, Mary bathing Sam, me pulling on my shoes to go do some yard work, and Sam, pacifier in mouth, watching his brother quietly. I ruffled Dean's hair as I walked past, kissed Mary on the cheek, and then said goodbye to the well-behaved Sam, who only spared me a glance before looking back at his brother. Mary and I shared a secret smile as I headed out to the garage.
Sam was screaming his lungs off, as I ran my fingers through his soapy hair, Dean talked to him quietly but it wasn't doing any good.
"Bad, De, bad" Sammy sobbed, hitting at Deans hands, which were trying to keep him in the tub.
"Dean pass me the cup." I ordered, and Dean listened, like he always did, keeping one hand on Sam and reaching for the cup of warm water that sat on the toilet by his side. I poured it over Sammy's head which made him scream even louder, if that was even possible. "Refill it." Dean took the cup and carefully let go of Sam,
"Be good, Sammy." He said in a soft soothing voice, a sharp contrast to my order. That thought made me sink deeper into my depression, I really needed a drink; I really needed Mary. And not for the first time I wished she was here with me, that she was here instead of me. Dean quickly ran to the sink where he messed around a bit to make sure it was the perfect temperature; he glanced at us before turning completely and sticking the cup under the running water, my attention wondered to Dean as I waited for the new cup of water; that was all it took. Sammy squirmed away from me, trying to pull himself up on his wobbly legs; it took me two seconds too long to react. Sammy slipped and fell back on his bum, water splashing up and wetting the already wet floor more. He sat there wide-eyed, staring at me and Dean, who left the cup under the faucet where the water ran over the edges, and was now by my side; we both waited. He burst into tears hitting the side of the tub,
"Bad baf." He had the same problem with 'th' as Dean did. I sighed and stood up heavily, grabbing the cup and walking over to the crying Sam. I knew I shouldn't, that Sam already hated baths for some unknown reason and this would make it worse, but I was tired, and just wanted to get them in bed so I could be by myself, I could work on Sam's bath problem some other time. Dean had another idea. As I poured the water over Sam's hair, again, him screaming louder, again, Dean had gotten Sam's shampoo, which made Sam squirm all over again trying to get away.
"Dean, what are you doing?" I watched him with my eyebrows raised as he poured it in the bath water; Sam had quieted slightly, watching Dean curiously, but still giving off soft sobs that made his shoulders shake. Dean squished his hand in the water where he poured the shampoo making bubbles.
"Look Sammy," he said raising the bubbles up to his face and blowing so that they'd disperse and hit the wall, Sam laughed. I finished rinsing Sam's hair (three more trips to the sink) as Sam and Dean had a bubble war, Dean always making sure to hit under Sam's face, Sam making sure to always hit his. "Sammy, I'm getting all wet," I heard Dean mock-complain as I put away my supplies, making Sam laugh harder and throw bubbles at him (along with quite a bit of bath water) again. "Hey Dad" Dean said I turned just in time to see Dean point at me and Sam throw bubbles/water at me. I laughed and shook my head, which I noticed made Dean's face and shoulders relax slightly.
"Ok boys, time to get ready for bed." I said grabbing up the discolored white motel towel to wrap Sammy in.
"No," Sam said with a laugh in his voice as he threw the last bit of bubbles at Dean. "More, De." He said hitting the water where the bubbles once were. Dean shook his head.
"Sorry Sammy, time to get out." I pulled Sam up and dried him off as I carried him to the bed him and Dean shared, Dean trailing behind me.
"Get into your pajamas." I told him as I dropped Sammy on the bed; he laughed as he bounced slightly, and he rolled onto his stomach, and tried to crawl away, bare bottom sticking up in the air. "Come on Sammy, its bed time," I laughed at his squeal of laughter as I grabbed his leg and pulled him back to me. I put on his pull-up and his pajama pants (deans old batman ones, they're too long and quite baggy). I was tugging on the matching shirt when Dean came up and started pulling down the covers, shirtless. "Dean, you're going to get sick like that. Put your shirt on."
"But Daad, I don't want to." He whined automatically.
"Dean" I said surprised. Then realizing what he did, he straightened up immediately, like a soldier facing his commanding officer
"But it's uncomfortable..." He mumbled.
"I don't care, just go put them on. Now." I ordered, Dean nodded his head solemnly and walked over to his duffle bag as I watched. That's when I noticed his pajama pants, tight and about two and half inches above his ankle; and when he pulled his shirt on, squeezing his head through the too small head hole, I saw how it was too tight and the sleeves that once were a little bit past his wrist were now half way up to making it to his elbow, there was only one word for how Dean looked: uncomfortable. The guilt slipped on like my favorite leather jacket and I felt my shoulders sag, I almost told him to go ahead and sleep without it, but it was the middle of winter in Colorado and the motels heater blew cold air out more than it did warm, I couldn't afford Dean getting sick, financially or mentally. After they were both tucked in bed, Sammy curled up next to Dean; I bent down and kissed both of them on the forehead, the old routine sending the usual pang pain through my system.
"Dad," Dean said quietly as I turned to turn off the light, "I'm sorry about earlier." Sam was already asleep, head pillowed on Dean's chest.
"Don't worry about it, sport. We're going to go get you guy's new clothes tomorrow" And by new I meant to us, but that didn't need to be said. Dean beamed at me,
"Thanks Dad." And with that he closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Sam's back. I sat on my bed heavily, needing a drink but too tired to go get it. I settled on going to bed early, I placed my gun under the pillow and set my cell phone alarm to 4:30 a.m., and just as I closed my eyes, Dean's words repeated in my head, 'Thanks Dad',
"Don't thank me, Dean." I whispered and fell into a restless sleep. The next morning after we went clothes shopping at the thrift store (new pair of pajamas for Dean, a new pair of jeans for all three of us, and a armful of the cheapest shirts we could find varying in sizes) we went for a quick grocery store trip, or more like a local gas station trip, I stacked some canned food into my basket, giving one to Sammy because he wanted to help too, and I turned to find Dean gone. I was just about to jump into action when Dean appeared around the corner; he stopped a few feet in front of me, shrinking into himself at my stern stare.
"Dean, what did you think you were doing?" I scolded. He looked down at his shoes as he held out a bright blue bottle with a sticker of a pink elephant sitting in a bathtub of bubbles and a yellow duck(which made me think of an easier time from so long ago), bubble bath printed on the top.
"Sorry I just thought that Sammy would…."he shook his head, "Sorry dad." I tried to stay angry but really there was no point, Dean was ok, that's all that mattered. I knelt down and put both my hands on his shoulders,
"Just don't do it again. I wouldn't be able to handle if something happened to Sammy or you." Dean looked me in the eyes and nodded.
"Promise not to do it again, dad." He said obediently. I stood up and ruffled his hair before inspecting the bottle.
"You really think this will work?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and Dean's face split into a grin as he nodded and held Sam's hand as we walked down the aisle. "Well then here goes nothing," I commented as I dropped it in my basket and headed to checkout, Sam and Dean following in my footsteps.
That night giving Sam a bath was too simple, and I wondered how we never thought of this before as I rinsed his hair while he giggled in the bathtub filled of soapy snow, Dean sat on the floor doing his homework.
"Play, De, play." Sam laughed throwing the bubbles at him but not reaching him. I was about to tell him to stop, that Dean was doing homework, but then Dean clambered up onto his feet, left his homework on the sink counter, and crossed the floor to plop down next to my feet and placed his elbows on the edge of the tub and head in his hands and laughed as Sam stuffed some bubbles in his mouth.
"No Sammy, that tastes bad." Sam just looked at him blankly. Dean then picked up the bubbles and blew on them so they'd float. Sam hit Dean and pointed at the bubbles,
"Fly Dean fly." He said, slapping some bubbles in Dean's hand, thus destroying the bubbles. Dean picked up more bubbles and blew on them to make them "fly", I sat back to allow them to play for awhile before bed, watching Dean constantly blowing the bubbles to entertain Sam, but after the third or fourth time I noticed that Sammy wasn't watching the bubbles anymore, he was watching Dean.
"Stoooooooop, its gettin' in my eyes." Sam whined as he rubbed said eyes.
"Don't rub them, idiot." Dean scolded as he slapped Sam's hands away and pressed a dishtowel to his face, Sam tried to slap his hands back.
"Deeeeaaaannnn." He squirmed out of Deans reach, just as I dumped another cup on his head and the soapy water ran down his face and into-"my eyes!" Sam balled rubbing at them again "You're just making it worse." Dean said pulling Sam's fist away from his eyes.
"They huuuurt" his whining was getting on my nerves, so I did the last resort thing and bent him down. He cried harder but he's done this before so he didn't try to move as I dipped his head under the running faucet and scrubbed my fingers through his hear to get out the remaining shampoo. When I let him go he darted up, bolted out of the tub towards Dean who wrapped him up into pale pink (slightly stained) towel.
"Now go get dressed, we're heading out soon" I directed and like any good soldier Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders and pushed him out the door, I picked up the empty bottle of bubble bath and stuffed it into my old bag, wishing that Sam was still young and that bubbles could fix this weird phobia of his. It only took a few minutes until they were both dressed, the impala was packed, and we were on the road leaving Utah behind us.
"Sammy, they can't possible still hurt," Dean sighed, turned in his seat so he could look at Sam in the back. I glanced up at the rear view mirror to take a look at what he meant and there was Sam, rubbing his eyes.
"You're going to rub your eyes raw boy," I voiced as I turned my attention back to the road, taking the exit that would take us to Nevada.
"But they still hurt!" He pouted.
"No they don't." Dean rebuked.
"You don't know Dean; they're not your eyes." Dean rolled his eyes and faced forward again, slumping in his chair.
"Yeah, whatever. Go blind for all I care." Sam's quite gasp made a small smile form on Dean's lips. It was quite for a couple seconds then we heard a belt unbuckle. Dean was turning while I glanced at the mirror again, we didn't need to though, because Sam popped his head up between us.
"I won't really go blind will I?"
"Sam! Sit your ass down and get your seatbelt on." He shrunk back in his seat at my order, buckling up his seat.
"But really, I won't right?" he shrieked.
"No you won't," I said, turning a look on Dean, who shrunk back in his seat as well.
"Good cause if anything, the shampoo that keeps getting in my eyes would be the thing that blinded me, right dad?" he questioned as he relaxed back in his seat.
"No Sammy, that wouldn't blind you either." I chuckled, grinning at Dean who laughed back.
"But its soap and has chemicals and it hurts. I'm never taking another bath again!" Dean rolled his eye at me, how many times have we heard that before, we laughed together at Sam's expense who pouted until Dean did something to make him laugh too. The sun was shining; we were all together, safe and sound, everything was right in our world, if only for awhile.
I was sitting at the kitchen table of our latest motel, papers strewn across the top as I researched the possibility of a werewolf being in town, the moon phases just didn't seem right…
"You sure your ok, Dean?" Sam's voice broke through my thoughts as the door opened and he came into the room, covered head to toe in mud.
"Dean?" I questioned as he walked pass me and I examined the mud ball that was Sam; I just bought those clothes a couple months ago.
"He was pushed into some mud." was Dean's answer, and that had me turning to him. He had his back towards me and was pulling out a new pair of clothes out of Sam's duffle (that I just recently bought him because fitting him and Dean's stuff in one duffle was getting to be a hassle, though Dean was in it more than Sam),
"Pushed?" I asked. He nodded.
"Don't worry, I handled it." Sam grabbed my hand and nodded too.
"Yeah Dad, Dean totally beat the guy up and when he got hit, he didn't even cry." I glanced at Dean, then back at Sam.
"Sam, go get the bath started, we'll be in there in a second." I ordered.
"But Daaaddd, I don't want a bath!" Sam whined.
"Sam. Go." I left no room for argument. Sam glanced at Dean and nodded slowly before walking to the bathroom and closing the door. "Dean." Dean's back was stiff now and he had stopped going through Sam's duffle. "Dean" I repeated voice harder and Dean sighed and turned towards me. It was years of experience that made me not wince in sympathy at the dark purple bruise that started at Dean's cheekbone and carried down to his jaw. His lip was busted and his own knuckles were bruised and scraped slightly,
"The principal wants to talk to you tomorrow." He said quietly.
"Dean," I sighed, disappointment leaking into my voice and that had Dean glancing up at me and burrowing into himself skillfully,
"He was being mean to Sammy, dad. I was protecting him. Plus the kid deserved it; he's in my grade! What a coward, picking on a freaking first grader." Anger was coming off Dean in waves, I felt sorry for any person who pissed him off.
"Just don't do it again." I knew he probably would, but I wouldn't be a good parent if I didn't tell him that(and we all know that I need as much points in that role as possible),though being slightly proud of him because of this pretty much already ruined that image.
"I'm not getting a punishment?" he asked unbelievably, and yeah he was right I really should punish him, for good measure.
"Your running extra drills tomorrow." I said, "Now come on, Sam's been too quite; let's make sure he didn't run away." I grinned and Dean laughed then winced because of the pull it had on his lip. I opened the door and surprisingly enough the bath tub was full; unsurprisingly Sam was standing by it fully dressed looking at it like it was a tub full of guts or something. "Get in." I ordered and he jumped and spun around to look at us guiltily.
"I was getting in." he mumbled as he started to undress, I turned back to Dean and waved him to the toilet where he dropped his backpack and sat down obediently. I examined his face, "I'm going to get an ice pack," I moved down to his knuckles which already had ointment smeared on them,
"The nurse did this?"I asked Dean, but Sam was the one that answered.
"No," he climbed into the tub and some water splattered on the floor."He got it from the gas station." I looked at Dean blankly and he shrugged sheepishly.
"They won't miss it." I shook my head and sighed, he was going to be real trouble as a teenager.
"I'll go get the ice." I said walking out to do just that. When I came back in Dean was scrubbing shampoo through Sam's hair and Sam just talked animatedly about his day. Only stopping when Dean poured water over his head, not one peep about how the shampoo was hurting his eyes. I wondered how Dean did it this time.
"Ohhh Daaaad! Guess what?" Sam said excitedly, smile lighting up his face.
"What?" I asked, amused.
"Dean got me magic shampoo! It doesn't make my eyes hurt." He beamed.
"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow at Dean and he nodded towards the bottle on the sink counter. I picked it up and in big words was "Johnson's: no more tangles shampoo and conditioner" and branded right above it was a red tear advertising no more tears. I decided not to ask how he got this without any money, pretty much because I already knew the answer; I smiled over at my two sons, Dean rubbing the towel over Sam's hair before wrapping it around him and going out of the room, Sam watching him through the mess of his hair and I thought, yeah, magic was really the only way to explain it.
Sam sat down on the bed heavily, wincing at the jarring it brought to his sore and wounded body; I was sitting on the other bed as Dean pulled out the first aid kit from his duffel bag, and for a split second I wondered when he started carrying the first aid kit. None of us were in such bad shape, that's probably why Dean had the minor first aid kit rather than the major.
"You ok, Sammy?" Dean asked as he set the kit next to me and poured alcohol over the wound on my arm, the burn didn't bug me, and when he remembered to pour holy water I felt some pride. Dean handed me the bottle of liquor then quickly got to stitch my arm-the only wound out of all three of us that really needed stitches, luckily. Once he was done he moved over to re-check Sam's wounds, which had to be the 3rd or 4th time; I didn't comment on it. Once Dean had wrapped up one of Sam's gashes he gave us both pain pills before taking three for himself, I thought about checking him over, but if Dean was badly hurt he'd tell us.
"Come on, Sammy. Time to get cleaned up." Dean said.
"It's Sam." Sam recited as he watched Dean warily as he pulled out Sam's shampoo (a familiar blue bottle with a red tear on it) and the long dark blue towel Dean got for him, saying that he was way too big for the small motel towels. "What are you doing?" Sam questioned. I knew what he was doing, I decided to let him handle it.
"You're taking a bath," Dean grinned back at Sam's glare.
"No I'm not." Sam growled back.
"Dude, you can barely stand. I'm not going to let your tall ass fall and hit your head on the edge of the tub or something." Dean answered.
"Well then I'm at least taking it alone!" Sam recoiled back; Dean just shook his head,
"Not going to let you drown Sammy." Dean said as he helped Sam to his feet.
"It's Sam."
"Besides" Dean continued as if Sam hadn't said anything, "it's not like I'm seeing anything I haven't seen before," Sam pushed Dean away from him slightly but he was smiling back and had a laugh on his lips.
"Shut up." He allowed Dean to help him to the bathroom as I watched from my bed,
"Don't use all the hot water." I called.
"Yes, sir." Dean answered. Dean said something to make Sam laugh just as the door to the bathroom closed, cutting me from them. I sat there listening to their muffled voices and the sound of running water, knowing this time Sam had what he needed; and it wasn't a pacifier, or bubbles, or even that magic shampoo, it was Dean. It's always been just Dean.
There will be one chapter to this. It'll be Sam POV because it'll be set in the Stanford era
Hope you enjoyed it!