"Would you just let me drive?"
"No. I said I'm fine."
"Yeah and when has anyone who has ever used that phrase before actually meant it? It's utter bullshit and you know it."
Dean continued to stare out at the empty road, stubbornly ignoring the growing pain in his lower abdomen.
"Dean."
"Sam."
Sam glared. Bitch face number eight.
"Sam, I'm serious. It's doesn't even hurt that bad. Here, let me show you."
"What are you – dude!"
Dean jabbed a finger into his brother's stomach lightly and then promptly moved his hand back to the steering wheel.
"What? Are you tellin' me that hurt?"
"No... I just wasn't expecting it."
Great. Sam was pouting. Stupid puppy dog eyes.
"Stop, Sam. I promise, I'll let you take over when it gets to be too much but I'm great, okay? Well, I'm not great but I'm not fine either since you clearly
understand that to be bullshit coming from anyone and everyone. I'm just... I'm okay."
Sam looked out his window in a melancholy fashion briefly before speaking in a quiet, almost broken voice.
"We're never gonna make it."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said, Dean," he turned to face his brother now. "We're not gonna make it. We're eight and a half hours from the bunker, and you've been shifting in your seat the entire ride so far. We know that these women checked into hospitals when they noticed something was going on, spent the next three to four hours growing a human being inside of them, and then subsequently gave birth. Granted, we don't know how long after sex it took for them to start exhibiting pregnancy symptoms, and we didn't have any sort of clock in that room, but by my estimations, it's been four hours, and you can try and hide it with your stupid leather jacket, but I know your stomach has grown. So I'm gonna say it doesn't take a whole lotta time afterwards, which means you're going to go into labor soon. Like, within the next hour, and that's me being generous, and we aren't even close to the bunker."
Sam inhaled like he'd been waiting to breathe until he was finished with his rant.
"That's what I meant."
Dean continued to stare out at the road, more focused than he usually was on making sure the car stayed in its lane. Sam moved back to his melancholy
position, leaning against the door and staring out the window.
"Okay. Well, we can just get a hotel room or somethin'. We'll figure it out."
"A hotel room? Are you nuts? You're gonna have a baby, Dean."
Cringe.
"You can't give birth in a fucking hotel! You of all people know they're basically designated 'quick fuck' rooms. At least the ones we can afford, anyway."
Dean pulled over pretty abruptly causing Sam to basically slide out of his seat. Dean stormed out of the car, slamming the door angrily behind him.
Taken off guard and unprepared, it took Sam a little bit to catch up and get out of the car. He walked in front of the car where Dean was brooding on the
hood. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair before he faced his brother.
"I thought we just got over this fight. Don't throw that shit in my face. I know you're stressed and I get it, I do. But you can't keep guilt trippin' me with that.
You don't think I already give myself shit for it every day? You adding onto that only makes it harder for me to move on and convince myself that I'm not
ruining your life by being with you."
Dean gradually started raising his voice toward the end of his mini-tirade. He turned away from Sam and resumed brooding. Sam reached out a hand to...
Well... He dropped his hand to his side not sure what to do with it.
"Dean, I'm sorry. That wasn't what I was trying to say. My point was we can't go to a hotel. I wasn't even thinking about that when I said it."
This time he actually managed to grab Dean's wrist against his better judgement, lightly coaxing his brother to look at him.
"Sorry, I'm just – I'm freaked out, Sam."
"Yeah. Me too"
Sam moved his grip to Dean's shoulder to pull him into a hug despite Dean's slight groans of protest. Dean eventually calmed his stiffness and relaxed in his
brother's hold, shoving his face in his neck. They stayed there for a few moments just holding each other.
"Shit."
Dean twisted a hand in the back of his brother's shirt and moved the other over his barely noticeably distended stomach, moving his head to the middle of
Sam's chest breathing heavily all of the sudden.
"Dean? What's wrong?"
"Not sure."
His breathing started to slow down slightly right before another wave of pain crashed into him causing him to grab onto Sam harder to keep himself upright.
"Shit. Come on, Dean. I'm driving."
"Yeah, sounds good."
Sam held Dean up under his shoulder walking him to the passenger-side of the car. He set Dean's hands on the hood so he could open the door and grab his
laptop case from the seat and move it to the backseat. Dean fell to his knees with another wave of pain.
"Ah, fuck."
Sam went back over to his brother, lifted him up, and sat him in the seat slowly, carefully. He was just about to pull away and shut the door when Dean
pulled him back down by his shirt to face him.
The look on his face was one Sam only saw in moments right before one of them was about to die. (Usually Sam because he would put on a brave face when
it was his own head on the chopping block.)
"Sammy... I - "
"Dean."
Sam cupped Dean's face in his hands.
"You're gonna be okay. We'll figure it out. We always do."
He was saying it more for his own sake trying to convince himself. Because he wasn't convinced at all. He was terrified. There were so many variables at
stake, some unknown. Dean could die and – well... so could their kid.
Thank fuck it wasn't up to some bitch of a god who hated hunters.
