Title: Sam I Am and Footie Pajamas
Prompt: This is for my hc_bingo prompt- "loss of possessions"
Rating: K+
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Warnings: Mild language
Word Count: 600
Summary: Pre-series. John thought he had this fatherhood thing down until he lost Mary. He wonders if any of this will ever get any easier and how the hell does he think he can raise two boys all by himself?
John was a good dad.
He wasn't perfect, but he loved his sons and he was capable. Earned an adequate living, knew how to change a diaper. When Mary sent him to the store with a grocery list, he was able to find the baby section and cross off her list, no problem. In the middle of the night when his baby cried, knew how to rock him gently back to sleep. When his boy woke with nightmares, he knew to pull back the blankets and let him in so he could snuggle up against Mary.
But then in a blaze of smoke and fire Mary was taken from him. Along with everything that was hers and that had been John's from her.
Everything except for her two sons.
He could still see Dean, covered in ash, staring up at him desperately. Green and red eyes. Clinging to the EMT's shirt as he held the oxygen mask over his nose, taking shallow, hicupping gulps of air.
So small and vulnerable.
If John ever thought that he had nothing left to live for his babies were right there to tell him he was wrong.
You don't realize how much you have until you have nothing.
And he doesn't mean that in a, "be thankful for what you have 'cause you never know till it's gone" kind of way. He means it in more the very literal sense that now he has nothing. No clothes, no food, no diapers, no baby formula, no rattle or nookie for when Sammy starts crying, no Sam I Am, and no batman footie pajamas. Somehow he has to replace it all. Everything.
And now he realizes, he isn't the capable dad he thought he was. He's clueless and adrift and nothing brings that point home more than the baby aisle at the local department store.
Mary has been dead no more than a few hours and his babies' clothes smell of smoke and sulfur.
And what size does Dean wear anyway?
Sammy has slept through nearly everything but he's going to be fussing soon.
And what baby formula does he get? Does he go with the cheapest? But what if cheapest isn't the best? And his mind gets ahead of him. Baby formula is good now, but when should he start eating mashed carrots and pears? What about when he starts getting teeth? And should you brush baby teeth? Should he buy a toothbrush? Toothpaste? Crest, Colgate, generic?
What about diapers? He vaguely remembers a purple box but what size? Babies grow fast- how much longer will he be wearing his current size? Should he buy a small box of the smaller diapers and a big box of the larger diapers in anticipation of when he needs bigger ones? He doesn't want to buy too many of the small diapers and then not use them.
Just how young is too young to start potty training? Six months? Yeah. Too young.
Being a dad is not so easy when Mary's not there to give him a list to check off.
And now he's standing in the middle of the baby aisle sobbing because he can't decide if Luvs are better than Huggies.
He'll be humiliated in the morning when he thinks back on his breakdown in front of the young sales assistant who tries to help him. He won't know what made him, a Marine who fought in 'Nam, break down and cry over some damn diapers.
He wonders if any of this will ever get any easier and how the hell does he think he can raise two boys all by himself?