Part 4 - Kissing

A knock on the front door startled Sam out of his intent examination of the faint stretch marks on Gus's round stomach, the way her bellybutton had popped from an innie to an outie. He flipped the t-shirt back down, blushing guiltily even though no one was around to see. The sheer terror of his situation was gradually fading, being replaced somewhat by curiosity.

He was actually occupying the body of a pregnant woman. As wrong as that was, it was also kind of... fascinating.

Not that he would ever admit such a thing out loud; Dean would undoubtedly find out, and then the teasing would never end. Not that there was much chance of it ending anyways...

Sam struggled off the couch and back to his stolen, swollen feet, grimacing as his back twinged and his breasts throbbed and the creature inside him started somersaulting again, making him feel like he'd swallowed a small hyperactive monkey that was trying to burst through him Alien style. Fuck, it was hard to move around. Even the short distance to the front door was exhausting and had to be crossed with a humiliating waddle.

He checked the peephole and saw a pizza delivery boy. A freckly, towheaded teenager, probably no older than seventeen, wearing a red cap and jacket and chomping lazily on a piece of gum.

Even though he probably shouldn't have, Sam found himself opening the door. Without having made the conscious decision to do so. It was eerie. Unsettling. Like Gus's body had reacted before Sam's logic had a chance to intervene... she must've really been craving that pizza...

"Hey, Tabby," the boy greeted brightly, stepping into the room without an invitation, "Got your usual." He slid a large pizza box out of the warmer, flashing a kind smile and chirping, "Mom said no charge for the extra jalapenos. And she wants to know if you're coming in tonight. She said she'd bake brownies."

Sam frowned and tried to think of an answer, but, before he could, the kid was right back to chattering. "You gotta come," he beamed, bouncing heavily onto the squashy old couch in the living room, "Frankie's band is playing, and he wrote you a song. He's too shy to say anything, but he really wants you to be there. Plus, Mom says it's not good for a pregnant chick to just sit around inside all day. You and the spawn need lotsa sunshine and fresh air. And the best pizza in the state, of course."

Clearing his throat as the kid finally went silent, Sam murmured, "I... um... I-I'll try."

The kid tilted his head a bit, sounding confused and concerned as he asked, "You alright? You're not, like, in labor or anything, are you? Cuz if you are, I can get you to the hospital hella fast."

"I'm fine," Sam replied, flushing uncomfortably when his voice came out in a strange squeak. He cleared his throat again (not that it helped much) and added, "Thanks though. You're nice to offer." He hoped that he was getting Gus's accent right, smiled and tried to seem normal.

Grinning brightly, the kid laughed and jumped back up to his feet, gave Gus's belly a fond rub and almost got himself decked. "For luck," he laughed, swiftly pecking Gus's cheek, winking and snagging a few bills out of Gus's purse and then heading out the door. "See ya later, Tabby," he called, "Eight o'clock! Don't forget! Call me if you wanna carpool!"

Almost as soon as Sam was alone again, the phone rang. He fumbled the disposable cell--still getting used to having such absurdly tiny hands--and finally managed to answer. "Dean?"

"I got her."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, sinking back down to the couch.

"She passed out when she saw your ugly mug staring back at her in the mirror," Dean reported, lightly teasing even though his heart didn't really seem in it.

Remembering his own moment of discovery (and fainting directly afterward), Sam gave a sympathetic wince.

"Sammy?" he heard his brother declare, sounding odd and a little freaked out, a little choked up, "She said... she said it's mine."

Sam took his time processing the announcement. "I'm going to be an uncle?" he gaped, quickly assaulted by feelings of surprise and excitement and delight. And fear. Fear was a big one, along with... well, just weirdness. He was currently carrying his own niece or nephew... it was... well, honestly, vaguely incestual... hmmm...

"Looks like," Dean muttered, disturbed edging toward distraught, "Dude, shit is majorly fucked up. I can't handle this and the apocalypse!"

Sam agreed that the timing could've been a bit better. But, then again, Winchesters never seemed to catch a break in such respects. "We'll get through it," he insisted, quite transparent in his desire to convince himself as well as his brother, "We always do."

xxXxx

Gus's disorientation and confusion at waking up in the brothers' motel room were short-lived. As soon as she set eyes on Dean, she whimpered and scrambled off the bed, backed herself into a corner and hugged Sam's flat stomach, looking forlorn and frightened. Mistrustful, but that one wasn't entirely new to see on his little brother's face lately.

"I didn't do anything to your baby," Dean soothed, keeping himself firmly on the other side of the room even though every instinct he had was screaming at him to rush to Sam, to get that look of sheer terror off Sam's face, "And I'm not a demon."

"Let's pretend for a second I actually believe you," Gus answered, broad frame trembling noticeably, "What is goin on?"

Dean chuckled weakly, half-heartedly, and explained, "An angel pulled me out of hell, but only after I set the apocalypse in motion. Now I'm trying to stop Lilith from breaking the 66 seals and freeing Lucifer and bringing about the end of days."

Gus blinked at him, blankly. "That's... nice," she drawled, motioning daintily to her borrowed face, "But I was actually talkin about this situation."

(She had this way of making him feel like a moron without even really trying, and it seemed like a change of bodies hadn't diminished the effect.)

"We couldn't find you," Dean murmured, "Your house was wrecked, and no one knew where you went. Sam... he tried scrying and fucked it up somehow. And I guess you guys swapped bodies."

"You guess?" Gus hissed, frowning thoughtfully, pouting and jutting Sam's hip out in a truly unmanly fashion.

(Dean remembered all the pictures that Sam and Bobby had taken of him when he'd been de-aged and tried not to grin wickedly.)

He got a little lost in his thoughts and only came out of them when Gus interrupted. "I'd like that holy water now," she stammered hoarsely, probably about three seconds from freaking out again.

Dean wordlessly tossed a bottle on the bed, along with a rosary in case she wanted to do the blessing herself.

She did, wasting no time in squirting the divine liquid directly into Dean's face.

He spluttered a bit as some went up his nose but didn't complain.

Gus continued to glare skeptically, finally ordering, "Salt."

Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled but obliged, stuffing a handful of white granules into his mouth, swishing, and then spitting them into the trash can. He wiped his tongue off on the collar of his t-shirt. After a quick thought, Dean pulled the collar down a bit more, pointing at his unbroken anti-possession tattoo and winking brightly.

Gus's expression began to soften, but her next word was yet another tentative, "Christo." When nothing happened (again), her demeanor brightened considerably, Sam's dimples making a rare appearance. "Dean!" she exclaimed, suddenly flinging that gangly Sasquatch body across the room, trying to jump into Dean's arms like she was still a skinny midget.

They collided with a pained oof and toppled to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs. Dean got the wind knocked out of him as his back slammed into the thin motel carpet, Gus crushing him from above.

And then, before Dean could properly recover, could scold Gus about throwing his brother's weight around, Sam's lips crashed down onto Dean's.

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Haha, it was bound to happen ;) Review for instant good karma! (Come on, who doesn't want good karma?)