Title: Abstinence Education
By: Amory Puck (pucktheperv on LJ and Tumblr)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Gen, humorous wee!chester, FAKE MPreg (just a joke!)

Summary: Dean "gets around" and John wants it to stop—so he's come up with a new form of abstinence education! Little Sammy and teen Dean are having a shotgun wedding! (Written for the Rockin' the 80s Fic Challenge, based on "White Wedding" by Billy Idol)

o o o

Abstinence Education

"You know, John," Pastor Jim said as calmly as he could manage, well aware that he probably looked mildly constipated. It was amazing how spending time with John Winchester could do that to a man. "This may be a somewhat *extreme* method of resolving the, um," he cleared his throat, "issue with Dean. Have you considered counseling? Perhaps even a simple father to son talk?"

John snorted derisively as he swung his shotgun up onto his shoulder, making the the pastor wince. The last time John had a gun in his chapel, he'd shot through the organ, claiming the keys were haunted. It was amazing how drinking an entire bottle of Jack Daniels in an hour could open the veil for any man to see behind.

"I was a Marine, Jim. If there's one thing you learn in the service, it's to recognize when extreme measures are required and not be afraid to take 'em. That's how you keep yourself alive."

Uh-huh," Jim said, disbelief radiating from his voice. "You *are* aware that parenthood is not a black ops mission, right, John?"

The man just grinned, a little maniacally in Pastor Jim's humble opinion, and began to molest his shotgun. The pastor sighed. It was going to be a long day.

"I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant, yes, yes, yes, I am!" Sam's boyish voice echoed happily throughout the chapel as he danced out of Pastor Jim's office into the sanctuary, his little hands rubbing at the enormous belly that was strapped to his frame. "I'm gonna be a mommy! I'm gonna be a mommy! Mommy Sam, yes I am! I'm a Mommy Sam!"

May the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit save his soul. "Please, Lord, let this be a dream," Jim muttered under his breath, then paused. "No, I take that back. I don't want this to be a dream because if it is then I have to acknowledge that my mind is twisted enough to come up with something like this on my own."

John ignored him, swinging his shotgun from one shoulder to the other in a smooth, practiced motion as he yelled out, "Hey Sammy, get over here," gesturing for the little boy zooming back and forth through the pews and knocking Holy Bibles off the seats with his baby belly to come to the pulpit. "Let me fix your veil, kiddo."

Sam grinned widely at the two men as he skipped down the aisle, waving his hands about enthusiastically. "Isn't my dress pretty, Pastor Jim?" He yanked at the white sheet that John had somehow managed to configure into something resembling a bridal gown. The boy's "veil" look suspiciously like a wife-beater pinned to a pair of white boxers, and from the crusty remains, Jim was pretty sure they hadn't been washed in awhile.

Before the pastor could come up with a good answer for a nine year old boy who wanted to know if his wedding dress looked pretty, the door to the chapel slammed open and a miniature version of John stomped in.

"This is *insane*!" The fury in Dean's voice was unmistakable, not that Pastor Jim could really blame the kid. The teenager was dressed in a ragtag collection of Pastor Jim's black trousers, a button down shirt that John had picked up at the local Goodwill for twenty cents, and a black bandanna tied around his neck like a bow tie. Or a noose, if you wanted to look at it that way.

"You're crazy. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean snapped, eyes flashing .

John literally growled, glaring at his son. "Watch your mouth, boy. You'd do well to remember—*that* word is what got you into this situation to begin with!"

"What? Fuck?" Dean smirked, cocking his head to the side and jutting his hips out in a manner he probably thought looked cool. Jim thought it looked more like he was trying to sell his booty on a street corner in San Francisco, but he doubted that was what the moody teenager wanted to hear.

"Welcome to the nineties, Daddy-O." Oh yeah, the kid *definitely* thought he was cool. "What can I say? Generation X is taking 'free love' to a whole new level. Gonna go for the free and skip the love!"

Oh, that was fantastic. No wonder the youth ministry had thinned out over the last few years. All their children had embraced the devil. Or possibly been molested by a Trickster.

John's face twisted up in anger, and Jim prepared himself to grab the gun in case the elder Winchester lost his head and decided to teach Dean a lesson using 12 gauge ammunition to the gut.

"You watch your mouth, boy, or I will smack that arrogant smile off your face and shove this gun up your—"

"Okay!" Jim cut in abruptly, well aware that the old lady working in the office was *not* above calling Child Protective Services if the need arose. "How about we all relax? Deep, calming breaths."

"For God's sake, dad," Dean said in a whiny voice, "it was only a couple dozen times. I used a rubber!" He paused. "Well, usually."

Oh yeah. Their children definitely belonged to the devil. Even Tricksters used protection.

"You know what? Let's get this over with." John paused, brow furrowing a little. "Hey, where's Sammy?"

Jim looked around for a moment, then pointed to the lectern where he could see a pair of eyes topped with boxer shorts peeking out. "He's over there."

"Sammy, get the hell out here," John snapped. "What the heck are you doin' back there?"

"It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding!" Sam said in a gravely serious voice, his eyes sparkling with humor, then burst into giggles. At least someone was having the time of their life.

Pastor Jim wondered idly what John would do if Sam asked to be a pregnant bride for Halloween.

"Come on out now," Jim said, sick of this absurdity. He might have to start making an exception to the church's open door policy when it came to John Winchester. Every time that man showed up, something ridiculous happened. "Let's get this over with."

Dean let out one of his patented Teenage Sighs, somehow managing to convey how the whole universe was a complete and utter inconvenience to his awesome greatness in one long exhale. "Fine, let's get on with our white wedding," he muttered, pulling at the bandanna around his neck. "This isn't going to be legally binding, right?"

As John steadied his shotgun in Dean's direction, Pastor Jim gave a short prayer that it wasn't loaded though, knowing John, it was probably a waste of God's time to even ask.

"You know, I have some sex ed pamphlets," Jim said as he eyed the gun nervously. "Perhaps that would be a better course to take?" Or a saner one, at least.

John made a rude sound, swinging around to face Jim which, in turn, put the shotgun about an inch from the pastor's face. "It's useless, Jim! You have *no* idea! The boy never stops humping! Cheerleaders, drama queens, lab partners, middle-aged waitresses with saggy boobs—it doesn't matter what it looks like as long as its got beaver between its legs!" Jim grimaced at the phrasing. "It's time he thought about the consequences of his actions!"

"Okay, okay," Jim said, holding up his hands. "Please point that somewhere else, John."

John smirked and swung the gun back around, aiming it very pointedly in the direction of Dean's groin.

"All I can say is that you're mad if you think this will really stop it, John." Pastor Jim moved up the steps to take his place at the pulpit, frowning down at the nine year old boy, obviously still thrilled with his brand new 'empathy belly', and his hormone keg of a big brother.

"Do you, Sam Winchester, take Dean Winchester to be your unlawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, forsaking all other to remain true to him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I DO!" Sam shouted happily, dancing around in a circle as he stroked his huge belly.

It was good that, as a man of God, Jim understood denial, because he suddenly had a very strong urge to launch his Bible at John's head.

"Do you, Dean Winchester, take Sam Winchester, to be your," he coughed, "erm, your wedded wife, to have and to hold, forsaking all others to remain true to him as long as you both shall live?"

Dean smirked wickedly, reaching out to smack his brother's enormous tummy. "Hey little sister, what have you *done*?" He and Sam both burst into laughter and Sam did another dance.

John pumped his shotgun. God save them all.

Dean's eyes widened as his father stepped up and pretty much shoved the gun up the boy's ass. "Uh, yeah, I do! I do, I swear!"

John made an unhappy noise, but the gun retreated just far enough that Jim was no longer worried about a teenage boy being sodomized in his chapel with a loaded shotgun. Thank heaven. Talk about a media nightmare. Seriously, what had he done to deserve this? Hadn't he served the Lord faithfully all these years?

"By the power invested in me by the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I do pronounce thee husband and, um, wife." He grimaced. "You may now kiss the bride."

"YAY!" Sammy pretty much leaped into his brother's arms, the extra weight of the belly sending them both tumbling to the floor as his lips locked with Dean's in a rather messy looking kiss.

"That'll teach him to keep it in his pants," John said in a satisfied voice, looking rather pleased with himself as he lowered his shotgun.

Jim just rolled his eyes. Like hell it would.

"Hey, Pastor Jim?" Dean called out as he pushed himself into a sitting position, his "pregnant" little brother still straddling his waist. "Does this make you pro-gay marriage?"

Jim let his Bible fall to the pulpit, turning on his heel and heading for the offices. Forget this. He was going to go find the communion wine.

The End