++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++
Moonlight spilled through the valley parting the curtains. It was hot and clammy under the blanket making Sam's night tee stick to his skin. The slender cushion, which Sam had placed between his knees before reclining on his left side, had been kicked to the floor. A mild headache caught behind Sam's eyes. Nick's open mouthed breathing announced that he was asleep behind, an arm slung over Sam's hip. Silently and with tremendous care Sam slipped from the bed. He didn't want to wake Nick. His partner had been kept late at The Gates by a birthday party who hadn't wanted their night to end. It had been after 1am when Nick had wearily joined Sam in bed.
Sam padded barefoot across the top of the stairs to his brother's vacant bedroom. He eased the door open. The almost full moon painted the room in a silvery glow. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam took in the neatly made bed with the Marine Corps standard corners. He profoundly wished that there was a Dean shaped lump there, and that his brother wasn't sleeping on a ward in Palo Alto. The bad taste in his mouth was more than early morning breath.
"Hey Lola," Sam whispered to his daughter, trying out his new favorite name. "This is Uncle Dean's room."
Sam didn't turn on a light, happy to steal a moment where he could feel Dean's presence. The dresser displayed an open sketch pad with a half finished beach scene. Spider seemed kind of droopy. Sam hoped he wasn't going to get a dressing down for over-watering Dean's beloved plant.
There was a quivering in his belly, "You don't want a pissed Uncle Dean either do you, baby?"
Sam rested his hand over his navel. He could feel her movements more every day and knew it wouldn't be long until she was announcing her existence with kicking and head butting.
"Another few nights and Dee will be home." Sam huffed. He turned away closing the door gently behind him. "For the next couple weeks."
A fervent wish, a prayer, pulsed through Sam's body, the fingers of his right hand curving into a fist with the force of will. Mentally he beseeched whatever powers that might be listening to let his brother find happiness with Castiel. He couldn't deny how worried he was about Dean moving away with his boyfriend. He needed to talk one-to-one with Castiel before the dynamic duo headed north to find a rental place. Castiel didn't have nefarious intentions regarding Dean, but Sam wanted to be reassured that the new teacher would stick by Dean if things went skew ways in their new environment. Part of him did want to keep Dean close, perhaps selfishly, but also so that he could watch out for him and be there for him. However Dean had already lost almost seven years of his life. Who was Sam to deny him a chance to spread his wings?
Rather than being morosely chewed up with concerns, Sam was mentally cursing his brother's musical tastes as he descended to the kitchen for a cup of iced water. The synaptic connections in his brain had supplied Mr. Mister's 'Take These Broken Wings' on maddening repeat, made even more irritating because Sam could only recall a fraction of the lyrics. He tried to push it out as he wandered aimlessly into the den. On the side table, lay the post-it where he had noted his appointment time at Stanford on Monday.
Lots of things about his life had been clarified and crystallized by John's attack, not only how amazing his resilient brother was, but how his daughter would always be his priority. He had felt that before but having her very existence threatened had made Sam face the fact that he had been living in a bubble, thinking he could put his mind and body through his normal grueling schedule when college resumed.
The final chiseling that had broken through was the angry words he and Nick had exchanged a few days after John's visit. It hadn't been a fight, or a blazing argument. Nick had not raised his voice once. Sam might have shouted some, mostly about how he was not incapable or weak. Nick remained calm, earnestly pointing out that Sam was working full shifts, spending each visiting hour he could with Dean, stressing out about his brother, and worrying about having the restraining order made permanent. Once the initial flare of rage had abated, Sam knew he wasn't angry at Nick. He admitted that he was consumed with ensuring Dean would be safe from John. He confessed that he had been pushing himself but it was hard to ease back when he had been taking care of himself since he was twelve years old. Nick took his hands in his and conceded that Dean, the baby, proving himself, would always be central to Sam, but that he wanted Sam to reevaluate his list of priorities. He didn't want Sam to put himself last. That led to a more reasoned discussion of what Sam expected for the first semester of his junior year. The illusion of being able to take a full program of classes in his last trimester fell away. It was coming up on a month until the enrollment deadline. They'd both took some free advice from Luther, the dour gender rights lawyer, who called into the restaurant. On the spur of their counsel, Sam requested an appointment with the financial aid office about how changing his attendance would impact his scholarship. There was no space for movement within the regulations of his specific award, but he hoped there were adaptations that could be made for his pregnancy. It was pointless to mentally rehash it in the early hours of Saturday morning. Letting anxieties build was like a recipe for elevated blood pressure and no way did he want to have to add another dizzy spell or chest tightening incident to the notebook he was keeping for Doctors Milton and Grainger.
"You agree? Huh Lola?" Sam asked as a tumbling sensation rolled through his middle. The first time that the unique motions had occurred, they were at a deeper level inside. Sam had thought his body was readying for the mother of all gassy expulsions, and it had taken him a few moments to realize that this was the 'quickening' he had read about in all those baby books and 'Cameron', as he was calling her then, had announced her presence. There had been long hours between flutterings, but entering the 22nd week, Sam had been delighted to sense his little girl move with increasing frequency.
Turning back from the long windows Sam noticed how Nick had drawn the armchair recliner closer to the glass earlier that day. A poetry anthology lay face down on the small side table. Sam trailed his forefinger along the well creased spine of the paperback. Sinking into the comfortable seat, his eyes sought once more the gibbous moon. The corners of his lips perked up, as a snapshot memory pinged his mind. Sitting in the middle of his grade school class as every child erupted in titters when Miss Taft had used the phrase 'pregnant moon'.
Sam reclined, relaxing his muscles and placing both palms over his tum. He eased out his neck and took some deep expelling and inhaling breaths as he had been taught to do if feeling stressed. Twitching butterfly wings told him that Lola was not sharing his relaxation plan. All the same he must have drifted off, because the first hints of dawn light were in the sky when Nick draped a fleecy throw across his now chilled form. Sam cracked open his lids. He smiled at the sight of Nick, barefoot with hair askew, sleepy eyes squinting, backlit with the glow from a single standard lamp.
"I'm sorry. You woke alone," Sam spoke low, extracting a hand for Nick to hold.
With a soft forgiving smile the older man took the invitation and perched on the wide arm to kiss Sam's forehead. There was no comment on Sam's night-walk, just Nick's bed-warmed body snuggling into his side. Sam shifted his weight so he could rest his head against his partner's chest. After a pause Nick twisted his upper body. Sam looked up, expecting a suggestion of returning upstairs or the offer of herbal tea.
The poetry book held in the fingers of one hand, Nick tilted his head and quoted to his love:
"When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while holding me by the hand,
When subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and reason hold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am silent, I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of identity beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me."
"Whitman," Sam choked out, pushing his body closer in affection.
Nick nodded.
After a pause for thought, Sam found the words of an appropriate responding poem, "I dreamed you Nick. I dreamed of a future…
'This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.' "
"Sam," Nick breathed reverently, reaching a hand over to tenderly muss Sam's locks. "You know what Dr. Seuss said?"
"Sam I Am?" He suggested with a snorting giggle.
"No my teasing love. He said, 'You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.' " Nick promised, "I'll stay awake with you"
Inside Sam was warm and content. Lola had settled too. He visualized her curled comfortable listening to her parents exchanging promises and hopes. It seemed like there was sanctuary in the dawn to be sappy, to expose your soul, your unguarded heart, without fear of rejection or cruelty.
"Whatever…" Sam began, eyes locked on Nick's melting blue ones, "Whatever our souls are made of…" He ran his hand upwards along Nick's chest to his collar bone, "His and mine are the same."
Two kisses, to corner and full lips, pressed with closed eyes, full of heart. Nick stood with hand offered, "Come on Heathcliff, back to bed."
When next they woke, to a blaring alarm, work beckoned. Sam took his morning tea to the sands below the terrace, while Nick dressed. He breathed deep of the morning ozone. A haze rose from the calm sea, foretelling a day of scorching temperatures.
"Morning Sam!" Ava waved as she trailed after her scampering dog.
"Hi Ava. How are you?" Sam called in greeting.
"Good. How is Dean? I'm used to seeing him out here sketching as I pass. Is he on vacation?"
Sam wished that was true. He hadn't discussed what to tell the neighbors, so answered, "He's good. He'll be home on Tuesday."
"Tell him I said hello."
The sound of the house phone ringing saved him from any further questions. He pointed inside. Ava nodded, being close enough to hear the pealing.
Sam hoped all was well at the restaurant. Alastair was first on duty, letting in the cleaning contractor and Max for the food prep, before Meg and Vepar turned up. Nick and Sam would arrive before the lunchtime rush. If Nick was having a luxuriating shower, he wouldn't have heard his cell.
An unfamiliar deep male voice responded to Sam's greeting.
"I'm looking for Dean, Dean Winchester? I can't get an answer from his cell phone."
"Yes?" Sam said with extreme wariness.
"Is Dean there?"
"No. He isn't home at the moment. Who is this?"
"This is Samuel. Samuel Campbell."
"Yessir," Sam spluttered, instantly respectful of his grandfather, "It's Sam here. Dean is … he's…"
"Well spit it out. I have my Dean here doing head loops wondering why that sweet boy isn't returning his calls."
"I should've thought to call you both. I'm sorry." Sam winced. With everything on his plate, his newly discovered grandparents had not entered his mind. "Dean's cell got broken. He is in hospital."
"Well darn it." Samuel's voice came from a distance, "You were right Darlin', the boy is sick."
"Not sick sick," Sam fumbled to explain, "Our Dad arrived unannounced. He wasn't pleased to find me pregnant."
A feral growl erupted from the earpiece, "Did he hurt you boys? Did he? I swear to God, I should have ended him the first time he…"
Sam gulped at the vehemence in Samuel's tone. There was a clicking sound, then Dean Campbell's softer lilt took over, "Hello? Hello Sam?"
"Hey Pawpaw," Sam found that he was blinking back a few stray tears.
"Are you OK? Is Dean badly injured? We have a little vacation nest egg. Do you need us to fly over there to support you?"
"Oh my God," Sam blubbered. He pictured two seniors attempting to swoop to the rescue, negotiating airports and counting out their dollars set aside for their annual trip away. "No Pawpaw, thank you. Dean and I are good. Only a few bruises and bangs. Dean had a… he had a bad stress reaction. I had to… Pawpaw, I had to bring him to the psychiatric hospital."
"You poor boy," Dean Campbell soothed. "I'll bet that was a hard road."
"Uh-huh," Sam managed around a sob that wrenched his chest, "But he's good. He's bouncing back. Will be home in a few days. He's amazing."
"Deanie was a sweet baby, you know. Mary was a howling terror, but Dean, he was an angel."
Sam laughed, trying to imagine a mini version of the Mom he had seen in photographs as a screaming infant.
"Our Mary was an independent little soul. So determined she went straight to walking, never crawled. She kept that strong will all her life."
There was a wistful slant to the older man's words. Sam knew his grandparents had not approved of John, perhaps memories were surfacing of how they couldn't persuade their girl to give up her man.
"Is your baby doing fine? John didn't cause you any problems did he?"
"She's OK." Sam was happy to confirm. "I can feel her move now. It's real weird yet mind-blowing but I'm getting used to it."
"There is nothing like it, Sam. Your connection to your daughter. I'll never forget when Mary began to kick. I don't speak of it, but Samuel and I had lost two in the first trimester. Those kicks were proof that Mary was a fighter." Dean gave a low sigh.
"Oh Pawpaw, that's awful," Sam was glad he hadn't known. He'd have been totally freaked out. He wondered if Dean's miscarriage could have been something hereditary or just bad luck. "Do you know does high blood pressure run in the family?"
There was a chuckle, "Well, no Sam, but sometimes your Granddaddy's eyes go out on stalks and it looks like he's going to pop a blood vessel but no, not on the Campbell side or my side of the family."
They finished off with his Pawpaw offering to share any of his rusty memories that might help Sam, if he had any questions about carrier pregnancy, childbirth or post-partum recovery. Sam promised to tell Dean that they had called and to get Dean to callback when he got home.
++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++++++
After a long day on his feet, Sam was wrecked. During the evening service, he had taken an extra break in the staff room. He had become lightheaded with white floaters when he bent too rapidly to pick up a customer's dropped napkin. Perhaps double shifts were too much. He collapsed into bed and was dead to the world when Nick made his way upstairs.
The next morning, Sam was treated to breakfast in bed. Nick drew back the curtains to a glorious day. They shared eggs and bacon with freshly squeezed juice. Sam took the wetroom shower. He had been so wacked that he hadn't taken one the night before. When he emerged, Nick was waiting for him, towel around his waist, hair damp from his own quick shower in the bathroom. He had the bottle of herbal vitamin E oil in his hand and a playful glint in his eye.
"You've been panting for an opportunity to use that on me," Sam grinned. The oil had been recommended by Anna, as a way to reduce any stretch marks and to keep Sam's skin supple.
"You game?" Nick wiggled his brows adorably. "I watched a video online of how to massage your partner's bump."
"I'm riddled with jealousy! How dare you watch pregnancy porn without me!" Sam bent over in a fit of laughter, as Nick's face went from crestfallen to joining in the teasing mirth.
"Come over here and let me practice my pregnancy porn knowledge," Nick patted the bed.
Sam removed his towel and got comfortable, propping his shoulders up with all the pillows.
As Nick warmed the oil between his palms he began to hum. "Who'd have believed you'd come along. Hands, touchin' hands, Reachin' out, touchin' me, touchin' you, Sweet Caroline."
With an affectionate tutting noise Sam shook his head, "Not calling her Caroline. Her name is Lola."
"Lola, lo lo lo lo Lola," Nick crooned as he sat sideways beside his love.
"It's a perfectly good song, Nick."
"Not denying it." Nick grinned placing his palms flat against the lower part of Sam's tum. He gently moved his hands up and down in opposite directions.
A yummy moan broke from Sam's lips. It felt amazing.
"I sang that song loud and proud as my teenage rebellious self. Tell me Sam. Do you think The Kinks' Lola was a carrier?"
Thinking wasn't high on Sam's agenda as Nick worked his magic from one side of his body to the other. "Maybe the real Lola was."
The scent of the rosemary and mint in the oil combined with Nick's touches melted Sam's stresses away.
Low and sweet Nick sang, "Girls will be boys and boys will be girls. It's a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for Lola… La-la-la-la Lola"
"It's not just the transgender lyrics. I like the sound of the name too. Lola Winchester." Sam muttered.
"Lola Alighieri."
"See works with both." Sam winked.
Nick's palms moved up. Fresh warmed oil smoothed around his darkened nipples. Fingers dragged down over the ever so slightly swollen area surrounding his nubs.
"More," Sam pleaded, his cock hardening at the stimulation that sent tingling sparks of arousal from his nipples outwards. His skin was on fire with desire. "More."
"Turn to the side for me my love," Nick whispered in his ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging just the good side of painful.
As the massage oil was kneaded into the globes of his butt, Sam dragged his hand over his heavy cock. Pre-come beaded and Sam used it to ease his strokes as Nick slid in one oiled finger. Kisses dotted Sam's back. Nick pushed at the back of Sam's knee with his own. Sam gasped, squeezing the base of his cock as he lifted his leg. He was gone, as round and round with more oil, another finger, two more pushed against his rim muscles, easing him open, so slowly. Sam was almost drifting in muscular relaxation while juxtaposed tremors of arousal threatened to bring him to release. When Nick entered him without resistance, Sam cried his name. The first moves were languid. Sam pushed back to take him fully. When Nick hit his bundle of nerves, Sam felt his balls draw up. He jerked his hips, panting his need.
"So good for me," Nick moaned, "spread out like a feast."
"Nick," Sam keened. His hand stripped his cock in time with Nick's moves.
Nick's grunts and heavy breaths combined with Sam's noises of pleasure. They rocked, building a rhythm until Sam spilled hard and long, white pearlescence over the sheets and his oiled bump.
Nick's hot damp forehead pressed into Sam's shoulder as he shuddered through his release. His stuttering motions ended with a grip on Sam's bicep as if he was holding on to him for dear life. They fell back onto the scattered pillows, too spent and sated to make any energetic moves. Nick turned to spoon Sam, arm over his hip.
However someone wasn't so languid and relaxed. As Sam smoothed a hand over the mix of oil and come on his belly, Lola gave a kick that they both felt.
"Oh my God," Sam gasped, feeling like he'd been tapped on the inside.
"Was that?" Nick propped up on his elbow, suddenly fully aware.
"Yeah!" Sam cooed, "Did we disturb you Baby? Was Daddy too much of a love machine?"
"Stop," Nick laughed, "Good God. How are we going to sanitize this for the childhood story of her first kick?"
"You sang to her." Sam stated simply.
"I did," Nick beamed, "To our Lola, Lo lo lo lo Lola."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++++
There were furniture removal noises coming from the third bedroom. Sam blearily wiped his eyes, still stated and boneless from his glorious massage and extras. The dried come was itchy on his skin. He gave himself a whore's wash in the wetroom, before finding his clean bump accommodating jeans and plaid button down. When it sounded like Nick was dragging the old closet across the floor, Sam went to investigate.
Coming from their room, the stairs were to Sam's left. The landing extended to a short hallway on the other side with the doors to Dean's room, the huge bathroom, and directly opposite was the room where the noise originated. Sam had stuck his nose in there earlier that summer. It looked like it had been intended as a home office cum extra guest room, but over time Nick had filled it with a broken rowing machine, old computers, and Christmas decorations that had failed to make it back into the crawl space.
When Sam pulled open the door, he stood mouth agape. Nick's back was to him, a V of sweat on his green tee, cobwebs in his hair. However it wasn't the sight of his disheveled lover that had him stunned. Most of the junk was gone. The distressed pine closet was shoved into the corner by Sam's arm. In front of him under the west facing window was a baby changing table. A new, or freshly uncovered, blond pine dresser was in the opposite corner. The strawberry night light sat proudly on it. In the centre of it all Nick was wrestling with the assembly of a sort of stand; one made to safely hold a Moses basket or bassinet.
The room was a proto-nursery.
All at once Sam was slammed in the chest with a wave of guilt for ever hazily contemplating leaving this place. He couldn't understand why he had let the vague presumption of finding accommodation in Palo Alto in September linger. His heart clenched, thinking of shared custody arrangements and only seeing Nick on weekends. Maybe he hadn't process this aspect of his immediate future because a small part him of had feared that Nick was under the impression that he was staying only for the summer, and it would be expected that he was moving back to Stanford. What kind of person would he be to take Nick's daughter away from him, when neither could Sam bear the thought of being apart from his partner? He visualized the beige and cream striped wallpaper stripped away, replaced with soft pastels, perhaps with a border of cartoon bunnies. They could paint a rainbow on the old closet, stars on the ceiling and hang candy striped curtains. Maybe they'd get a few shelves to hang too high for toddler's hands and make a collection of story books for Lola.
"Sam?" Nick stood up, his face lightly flushed, from exertion or from being caught at his secret project. "Do you like it?" Nick's question was tremulous. "You are upset I went ahead and began to set up the room?"
Sam surged forward, smashing their faces together. Eyes open he could see the Nick's blue eyed shock. Sam deepened the kiss, hands spread on Nick's shoulder blades. Arms wrapped around Sam's waist.
"Sam," Nick breathed as they parted for air.
"My love, my lover," Sam responded, "Our nursery…"
Nick nibbled at Sam's jaw line, "I'm so happy you like it."
Sam chuckled, "I like what it will be."
"You want in on the planning stage?" Nick laughed.
"You betya," Sam's hand strayed down and he gave Nick's butt a vicious pinch.
"Ouch!"
"That was for hiding it from me," Sam pecked his cheek, "And the kisses are for everything you are."
Nick took his hand. He showed him the room. He pointed out the items already there, ideas he had, and paint colors he liked. Nick talked about how he wanted to buy the bassinet and cot together. Sam chipped in his idea for stars and rainbows. Nick persuaded him that stencils could decorate the walls.
It was with a warm and pleasant feeling that Sam fixed grilled cheese sandwiches for an early lunch, while Nick finished off the bassinet stand.
"I was thinking." Nick announced as he appeared, slouched in the doorway.
"Hmm, is that a good thing?" Sam ribbed, "You have plans for world domination?"
Nick's brows rose, wrinkling his forehead. "You're in a jolly mood."
"You coming with? Castiel and I are both going in to see Dean. Cas's is off work today. Dean said that Castiel is only covering a couple of shifts this week for them before he finishes up at the coffee shop."
"I'll try to join you guys later. I need to go to the restaurant. Perdy's kids are sick. She's going to try and get in for the evening if her Mom will babysit." Nick sighed.
"What about her useless lump of a husband?" Sam hissed in disgust. Perdy's husband was a douche who didn't lift a finger around the house, and expected his wife to wait on him hand and foot. The weekend waitress had often groused at work, but Sam, like the others, had learned that she was never going to do anything about being treated like a doormat.
"You know, Sam, he'll be watching his programs, drinking beer, and if her mother doesn't come over, those kids will be virtually unattended." Nick pursed his lips. "Bastard."
Bubbling cheese offerings placed in the centre of the table, Sam took the chair next to his partner. He shuffled it closer, cupped his lover's jaw feeling the curve of his bone structure. As he gave a soft kiss to Nick's chin and a second to his lips, Sam wondered if Lola would inherit her father's features.
"We are going to be great Dads." Nick announced.
"What brought you to that conclusion?" Sam asked with an amused smile.
"We are going to be polar opposites to our fathers. Your Dad was an ass and mine… Well… My Dad was a fantastic CEO, and a shit father. The business was number one, then his profile in the community, Michael, having sons excel at military school… It was like I didn't have a Dad." Nick curled his hand around Sam's offered palm. "I don't remember my Mother. I was two. I don't even know the details of the car accident, except once when we were teenagers Michael told me I was screaming in the back seat and distracted her, but he could have been lying."
"I don't have any memories of my Mom, except those Dean told me." Sam said gently. "But she sounded wonderful. I wish I had known her."
"Sometimes," Nick looked out the window rather than at Sam, "I wonder if that's why my Father was so distant. Maybe he blamed me for shattering their world."
"You know," Sam cleared his throat, "The fire started in my bedroom. Mom came in to check on me and Dean says the whole place went up like kindling. I don't know exactly what happened either, but Dean carried me out of the house, while Dad tried to get to Mom."
"I promise you, Sam," Nick paused, sucking in his lips a moment, "I promise to you, always. You and Lola."
"Me too," Sam confirmed his sincerity with a tight squeeze to his partner's hand. He believed Nick and he shared in his vow. Whatever bad examples of parenting they had experienced, they would be the best parents they possibly could for their little girl.
++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
An hour later, Sam collected Castiel at Balthazar's house. He was amused at the alacrity with which Castiel appeared when he heard the distinctive rumble of the Impala. Castiel literally jumped into the shotgun seat.
"You ready to go?" Sam stated the obvious.
"You're late." Castiel substituted as greeting.
Sam didn't explain his morning, just smiled at the memory.
"Oh, I see," Castiel huffed. "Did you wear Nick out or something?"
"Huh, no," Sam snorted, "They are a man down at the restaurant. He had to go in."
At the hospital, Sam put a hand on Castiel's arm, arresting his drive towards the elevator.
"Can we talk?" Sam gestured towards the entrance to the hospital café. "I know you want to get up to Dean's ward, but could we have a few words?"
Castiel inclined his head and followed, "You know Dean will be pissed if we are too delayed. But I guess we can spare a few minutes." He squinted at Sam, "Is this where you give me the protective brother speech?"
"That about sums it up." Sam confirmed before they both ordered hot chocolate. There was a table for four freshly vacated with the dirty plates and empty mugs waiting to be removed. Sam stacked them to the side, his hands twitching to bus the table and wipe it down.
Castiel waited for Sam to speak, taking long sips of his drink.
"Cas, I think you are a cool guy. I know you care for Dean and all." Sam bit down hard on his lip.
"You don't approve of Dean coming to Bodega Bay?" Castiel's body tensed.
"I didn't say that," Sam blew an exhalation so strong it rippled the top of his hot chocolate, "I'm troubled by what might happen, I guess. I'm worried that when you are together all the time you might find you don't have enough in common… that you might decide…"
Castiel planted his mug on the table, "I truly believe that will not happen, but life is full of risks. Dean and I want to take our chance. We want to try. And Sam, I fear you underestimate you brother. He is as bright and clever as you and I, but life has not given him the opportunities that we were able to fight for. I admire him all the more for his survivor spirit, his dignity, his courage. He shines…"
As his brother's partner's voice trailed away, Sam's confidence grew. Castiel was right. Life was a game of chance. He wouldn't deny Dean his shot at happiness.
"You don't have to convince me of Dean's qualities," Sam said with a close mouthed sad-tinged smile.
Earnestly Castiel pleaded, "But I do. I need you to comprehend that I am the privileged one. From when we began, he graced me with his returning words, with his touch and his smiles. I fell for him. Hard."
Sam could only nod in response, thinking of the quotes he and Nick had exchanged a few dawns ago. "How about we head up before Dean sends a search party down to find us?"
Castiel barked a laugh, "He would too."
"Where were you guys?" Were the first words out of Dean's mouth, before he grabbed Sam in a backslapping hug and then Castiel in a lingering squeeze.
"Dean," Sam threw his eyes up, "It's only twenty after."
"Yes Sammy. Twenty minutes spent dancing around here like a fool." Dean gestured to the area around the door.
"I brought you an empty duffel." Sam handed it over like a peace offering, "So you can start packing up your stuff."
Dean grasped onto the handle, "Awesome. 48 hours and I'll be outta here Dudes."
Castiel ratted out Sam on their way to the courtyard. "Your brother grilled me about kidnapping you to my Bodega Bay lair."
"Sammy!" Dean glared. "I'm not going to the moon, y'know."
"I know Dee," Sam sighed in the face of the couple who had linked arms. "I have news about my own living arrangements."
Dean's brows rose.
"I'm not seeking a place back here in Palo Alto." Sam grimaced, hoping he wasn't about to get a grilling.
Instead Dean fist pumped, "I knew it. I knew you and Nick were together for keeps, as soon as you started talking about 'your' bedroom and going 'home'. I knew it."
"Well, you knew before me then," Sam huffed.
"But you're sure Sam?" Dean checked.
"Yeah, as I'll ever be. It will be our home. Me, Nick and Lola."
Dean clapped him on his arm. "Good. And at least you've dumped the lame names."
"Lola is a very nice name," Castiel chimed in, "I knew a girl called Dolores who used it as her diminutive."
"And you know Lola wore yellow feathers and lost her love at the Copa – Copacabana." Dean sniggered.
"Stop Dean! You can try and Manilow me out of it, but it won't work. Your niece is called Lola." Sam gave his own trademark glare.
Dean combined shame-faced eyes with a cheeky grin. He placed a hand on Sam's stomach and introduced himself.
"Hello Lola. Uncle Dean here. The one who is going to spoil you rotten."
Sam eye rolled at his impossible brother, while Castiel's wheezing laugh joined Dean's deeper chuckles.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The next morning, their pleasurable afternoon seemed an age away. Sam came downstairs slightly after 8am, bleary eyed and wondering why the other side of the bed had been cold when he woke. He could see Nick in the family room, still in his sleep shorts and an open white casual shirt. He was on the landline.
"No Michael," Nick's lips formed a tight angry line, "No you listen…"
Sam leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Nick could see him there, but something stopped him from coming closer, from intruding on the telephone conversation.
"I am perfectly entitled." Nick hissed, "I resent your suggestion that I misused company time or resources."
Sam's eyes widened as Nick's fist thumped onto the desk, causing the antique to shudder.
"No. You listen to me Mike." Nick's pitch rose, "The piece of shit upon which I set the company hounds threatened my unborn daughter. He assaulted my partner in our home. And I would be quite within my rights to invoke our personal security protection. But Sam and I do not want bodyguards. I escaped that life."
Nick's body sagged. He rolled his eyes at whatever his brother was saying. Sam tentatively approached, running a hand down Nick's shirt and wrapping his arm around his waist.
"Fine. Be like that." Nick slammed the handset down and spat, "Prick."
"I take it that Michael wasn't pleased that Cain is helping us." Sam muttered as he pulled Nick in for a hug. His partner was too tense to relax into Sam's embrace.
"Someone talked." Nick sighed, "Whispered up the chain of command."
"Will there be trouble?" Sam cringed. He didn't want those who were assisting them to face consequences in their employment.
Nick shook his head. "No more than normal. Michael is predictably perched up on his moral high ground. Cain can hold his own. He was never in Michael's fan club. And I told the truth. We could live in a glass cage of security and bodyguards if we were paranoid enough. Michael doesn't go anywhere without at least two dicks in suits."
"That's a crap way to live."
"Suppose he needs it as CEO of an arms corporation, but I'm sure he gets a kick out of the image it presents. It's all power and posturing, and I've been sick of it for an age. The one time I use my privilege as an Alighieri and he has a conniption."
"Fuck him." Sam said simply.
"Yeah." Nick's shoulders hitched twice in silent amusement. He looked to the East, "Fuck you Mike."
Nick buried his head in Sam's neck and took a few breaths that heated Sam's skin.
"There is some good news Sweetheart." Nick finally said in a calmer tone, as if Sam's mere presence had poured oil on his troubled waters.
Sam hummed in query.
"Michael started his rant with demanding if I was the reason behind one of the security division serving papers on some mechanic in Windom Minnesota." Nick squeezed Sam's shoulder. "He's been served. Once Cain couriers us the proof of service notice, we can apply for the permanent order."
A ball of stress and worry that had been resident under Sam's ribs evaporated. He could just about imagine John's face twisted in hateful disbelief but it didn't matter if John burned the papers or poured over them with a magnifying glass. They had won this round.
"Come on let's get some breakfast before we have to face the suits." Nick led Sam by the hand into the kitchen. "What would you like?"
"Nothing much. My stomach is knotted," Sam admitted. "What if they don't want to accommodate my request? What if they withdraw all financial aid?"
"Pancakes." Nick declared, taking a vacuum packed readymade stack from the refrigerator. "And I told you Sam. They have to be officially considerate."
Sam chuckled in spite of the serious topic. "Considerate would be nice, but I'll settle for reasonable and accommodating."
"You used all the wording Luther suggested asking for the appointment. I bet you they are shitting bricks that you'll sue their asses for gender discrimination."
Sam planted his elbows on the table and sunk his chin into the V of his upturned palms, "I don't want to sue anyone. I simply want to reduce the number of classes in my schedule."
"I know, my love." Nick rubbed circles into his back. "It will be fine. You'll see."
Sam nodded. Nick was looking at things logically. However Sam had been knocked back enough in his short life that he knew he could be faced with a battle. Other students from middle income families graduated without scholarships. Castiel did it on half-time with loans, wages and some aid. Nick had repeated his pledge to guarantee any loan application. It wasn't only the financial side. Sam also wanted to decrease his class schedule. Long term, Nick would manage his restaurant around Sam's attendance, so that he could look after Lola while Sam was at class.
"I'm telling you," Nick added as he warmed the skillet, "You'll get your degree and be a famous anthropologist. Hey Babe, what do famous anthropologists do anyway?"
Sam reached to smack Nick's arm. "Cheeky!"
Nick ignored him, "Syrup or bananas?"
"Both."
In the end Nick was proved right. Nick leaned against the corridor wall and blew an air kiss to Sam as he entered the office that could determine his academic fate. Sam straightened down the long sleeved stretchy red tee over the elastic panel of his black work trousers. The new clothes were more for when Lola grew bigger but he didn't want to turn up to the meeting looking ratty or casual.
He nearly melted into a puddle of nerves when he was faced with not only a financial aid supervisor, an administrator from the Dean of Students office, but also his Anthropology faculty advisor.
At least one of the three gave him a friendly smile. Mr. Wyatt, his advisor, went so far as to offer baby congratulations as he greeted Sam. Mrs. Bryon from the finance department was grim as she rose slightly to shake his hand. Her face remained stoic with her wire spectacles and tightly scraped back grey hair. Sam had met Mrs. Fleming, the efficient round shouldered brunette who was known for solving student grievances, when he was trying to get out of sharing with his unbearable freshman roommate. While she had been unable to assist him, she had been kind and listened to his complaint.
Taking a breath, Sam straightened his spine, told himself this was for his and Lola's futures, and stated his case. He was unable to fulfill the exact specifications of his full scholarship because his baby was due on December 17th . He did not want to leave. He wanted the college's support. He hoped it was understood that he could no longer achieve the precise obligations of his scholarship through exceptional circumstances. Sam wanted to return on half-time classes for the Fall semester. He was applying for a leave of absence covering the Winter Quarter, returning on a reduced schedule after spring break. Prompted by Mr. Wyatt, Sam outlined his ultimate aim of extending the time it would take him to achieve his bachelors by only one year. To reach the required credits, on a continued reduced number of classes per semester, Sam would enroll every summer, and if accepted undertake a senior research paper. He pointed out that as a student with a 3.7 grade average he was aiming for the honors program.
The three sage adjudicators asked for a recess to discuss Sam's petition. Outside the heavy wood door, Sam paced a line in the carpet, with Nick offering bottles of water and occasional rhetorical questions as to why they were taking so long. Finally called back in, Nick held Sam's hand for a supportive squeeze but Sam didn't let him go, practically dragging him into the office. The older finance department supervisor raised her brows but didn't comment.
It was Mrs. Fleming who spoke. "Mr. Winchester we have considered your proposal and consulted the relevant regulations. Stanford prides itself as an equal opportunities institution. It has to be recognized that you have exceeded the rigorous requirements of your scholarship in your two years with us. While that prized scholarship will lapse as soon as you enroll as a half-time student for the upcoming quarter, we believe you are an asset to our university and that your bright academic future should be nurtured not impeded."
Sam's heart sank as confirmation that his full ride was gone. Nick's grip tightened to almost painful as the older man steamed righteous anger on Sam's behalf. Sam attempted to squeeze back, non-verbally communicating the need hear the verdict.
"We do not want to lose you, Mr. Winchester. If you can stay a while, Mr. Wyatt has volunteered to assist you with the forms for exceptional fees aid, subsidized loans and, as your housing grant will expire, assisted housing at Escondido Village's on campus accommodation for students with children. Due to your lack of income and of family funding, you qualify for a percentile fee waiver, which I can tell you now will be substantial. If you are willing to commit to time as a teaching assistant in your senior year, we can adjust your aid package beneficially. Finally Mrs. Bryon has consulted your scholarship fund and the small supplementary stipend for college expenses will not be voided by reducing to half-time." She smiled, "All in all we hope this will mean you can continue with our blessing and if you need further assistance, you are free to apply to us again as your education continues."
"Thank you." A smile spread across Sam's face. "Thank you all."
Mr. Wyatt grinned, "You might not be thanking me in an hour when we are still here filling out all the paperwork."
"I'll stay all night," Sam huffed, thinking that at least he could forego the accommodation forms.
He didn't care if they were scandalized. He leaned over and kissed Nick in celebration.
"Told you," Nick whispered close.
"You did." Sam responded, "And I am so happy you were right."
++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++
Sam's high carried him through the quiet evening at work. It lifted him the following morning as he aired out Dean's bedroom and gave the house a quick once over. Nick returned from the butcher's with huge steaks which he rubbed with a secret spice mix. He fired up the outdoor grill, while Sam prepped the okra and ears of corn for chargrilling. He wrapped par-boiled potatoes in foil ready to be finished on the BBQ. Nick produced a fold away table for the terrace. Sam filled the old green cooler with ice and plunked bottles of beer in it for the others and some non-alcoholic cider for his drinking pleasure.
It was all ready. Sam gleefully hopped up and down on the balls of his feet when Castiel's Ford turned into the property. He was dizzy with excitement when Dean emerged from the car.
"Sammy," Dean called as he came round the side of the house to share a tight hug, "I'm a free man."
"Welcome home," Nick said as he slung an arm over Dean's shoulders. "Hope you like spice rubbed steaks."
"I do," Dean grinned, "Y'all have no idea how bad the food was on the ward."
"We do." Castiel intoned wearily, "We heard."
Once Dean had dumped his bag, changed his clothes and inspected his spider plant, they shared the delicious food, laughing and enjoying each other's company. Dean picked the music, in honor of his homecoming, meaning an afternoon of background mullet rock.
When Dean reached out for another bottle, Castiel noticed they were out. He volunteered to head inside for more and to top up the ice.
"I'm glad to see you both taking it easy." Nick commented from his spot on the edge of the tarp covered hot tub.
Dean hummed, "Even better 'cause I don't gotta go to work in the morning. Victor certified me off for another week."
"You know that means Castiel and Sam will be hovering over you." Nick teased.
"No hovering." Dean shook a finger at his brother, "I plan to walk the beach, eat proper food, drive the impala, and go house hunting with Cas."
Nick met his eye, "Are you certain, Dean, about the move? I hope you know that you are always welcome to stay here with us and our door will always be open to you."
Dean gulped with emotion as he nodded his head. "Thanks. Thank you."
Sam moved over to wrap his arm around Nick's shoulder and lean into his body, "We mean it Dee. You don't even have to call. Just show up."
"Well maybe you could call and say you are on the way, you know, in case…" Nick wiggled his brows and licked his lips in an exaggerated sultry manner.
They were laughing when Cas returned with the bucket of ice. "What did I miss?"
Dean rolled his eyes, "Nick was suggesting that calling unannounced once he and my baby brother have the house to themselves could lead to sights that would scar me for life."
Castiel hummed and got a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Ditto." He said simply. "We wouldn't want to ruin Sam's innocence."
"Cas!" Dean protested.
"It's fine Dean." Sam laughed, "Glad to know Castiel has thought out the tiny fine-print of your move."
"I will have you know there is nothing tiny about Cas." Dean smirked as his lover came and put a hand playfully over his mouth.
"No more." Castiel wheezed with laughter.
"I second that," Sam chuckled. "No welcome home pie if you can't be refined Dean."
Dean pulled Castiel's hand away and shouted, "No fair."
Taking sympathy on his brother, Sam dragged Nick into the kitchen. He extracted the pecan and salted caramel pie from the refrigerator, while Nick got the plates and tub of Madagascan vanilla ice-cream. Three stolen kisses delayed dessert, but also allowed the ice-cream to soften a touch. Nick carried the extras. Sam went first with the pie held forth, giving him the full view of Dean and Castiel wrapped together in passionate embrace. He was reluctant to cough and part them, especially as he and Nick had just been engaged in the same recreation. It was all good, because Dean's pie radar must have pinged.
With each having plates of pie and ice-cream in hand, Nick raised his fork for a treat toast. "To love found!"
"Hear hear." Castiel cheered lifting his spoon of ice-cream high.
To Sam no bite of pie ever tasted sweeter than the one he took in agreement with his partner's toast. The shared kiss that followed tasted of that love.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Quotes:
Walt Whitman: Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances.
Emily Brontë: Wuthering Heights
Ogden Nash: My Dream
The Kinks: Lola
Neil Diamond: Sweet Caroline
Barry Manilow: Copacabana
Oh my Lord, they are in such a good place, that I could end the story here…
But I won't. There are more chapters to come. Favorites, follows and reviews are love. Thank you for leaving them.