I know I said one-shot, but I couldn't help myself. The next mini-series will be Sam and Cas adopting children (and I don't usually do fluff, so bear with me, because this is fluffy, but still sort of angsty). It will be in three parts, this is part one.

I hope you like it! let me know if I should keep on with it:)

WARNINGS: language, slash, child abuse (physical and emotional), possible implications of rape (maybe), and me trying to write fluff.

Sam rubbed his face in his hands, sighing softly. He glanced up at the clock and sucked in a deep breath. It was almost 6:30 and Ansem Gallagher's father still hadn't shown to pick him up from school. Sam had promised Cas he'd leave right after school to meet him at the adoption agency. He'd been late for the last meeting and didn't look forward to getting another disapproving look from the secretary who gave Cas sympathetic looks every time they walked by the front desk. Cas had said he'd understood and told Sam not to worry, but Sam couldn't shake the guilt of, yet again, spending time at the school when he should be spending time with his partner. Ansem didn't seem fazed that his father hadn't come to pick him up. He was on the floor building a castle of blocks, blissfully unaware that his dad was over an hour late.

The classroom door opened and a teenage boy Sam recognized as Ansem's older brother slipped into the classroom. He forced a smile at Sam and exasperatedly pushed his thick curls out of his eyes. The kid was wearing a sweater that was two sizes too big for him, but no jacket, and Sam could see him shivering from where he was sitting behind his desk. The boy rubbed his bright red nose and stumbled over his words as he tried to explain himself. "Hi. I, uh, I'm so sorry it's so late, I got here as soon as I could. I didn't…I would have called, but I don't have the school's number…Ansem, c'mon."

Ansem hopped up from the floor, sending the tower of blocks tumbling. He shot Sam a nervous glance and quickly knelt down to pick them up. Sam watched him scurry to put away the pile of blocks for a moment, uneasy. He stood up and approached Ansem's brother, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sam Winchester. I don't think we've ever really been introduced."

"No, usually I'm on time and get lost in the mob," the kid smiled a little more naturally and took Sam's hand, shaking it firmly before digging his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. "I'm Andy. His brother."

"He's a great kid," Sam offered, glancing back at where Ansem was stacking the blocks neatly in the plastic bin they were stored in. Sam was torn between being impressed and concerned; maybe Ansem had been taught to clean up, but he would have expected the kid to try to get out of here as soon as possible after being stuck there for so long. There was so much he didn't understand about Ansem yet. "Quiet, though."

Andy tilted his head to the side, his dark eyes fixed on his brother. He replied steadily, with little inflection in his voice, "Yes, sir. He doesn't talk much."

Sam nodded and glanced over at Andy, curious. A dark mark he'd passed off as a shadow when the boy walked in appeared, on closer inspection, to be a bruise. The crescent shape mark looked almost like a particularly dark bag under his eye, but Sam recognized it as the fading remnant of a nasty black eye. He drew his bottom lip in under his teeth and contemplated asking, but decided against it. He didn't know this kid well enough. His own teachers would have already asked him and taken care of it if there was any concern.

Ansem finished putting the blocks back and stood up again. He picked up his backpack and ran over to his brother, unashamedly wrapping himself around Andy's leg the same way Sam had seen countless kids do to their mothers. Andy put a hand in his hair and smiled tiredly down at Ansem. "Ready?"

Ansem nodded, his face still pressed against Andy's thigh. He detached from his brother long enough to wave at Sam before clinging to Andy again as they walked out of the room. Andy took it into stride without a pause, obviously used to walking around with a five year old clinging to him. Sam turned his attention to the window and waited a few moments until he saw them cross the parking lot. Andy had lifted Ansem up to carry the tired five year old to the car. Sam pursed his lips as he watched Andy get his baby brother settled into the car seat, trying to keep back the memories of Dean doing the same thing for him twenty-four years ago.

Cas shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair across from the social worker, trying to keep a pleasant smile on his face. She flipped through his and Sam's file, scrutinizing it carefully. Cas tapped his fingers on his knee impatiently, his stomach fluttering nervously. He glanced at the clock mounted to the wall next to the door; six o'clock.

Sam was officially embarrassingly late. Cas cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the heavy silence, and tried to apologize to Mrs. Atkins. "I…I'm sorry. He's a teacher, and he works late sometimes. Not teaching, I mean, they have an after school program for kids who have parents that have to…have to pick them up late." He bit the inside of his cheek, frustrated. He'd been working on making himself more clear and precise when he spoke, but nerves tended to shake him up enough to send him plunging back into speaking in vague, stuttered sentences.

"I see," Mrs. Atkins replied dryly, eyeing Cas over the thin silver rim of her glasses. She dropped her gaze back to the papers. "Does he work this late often?"

"No," Cas replied honestly. "He must be on his way by now. Something must have held him up."

She hummed doubtfully without lifting her eyes from the folder. Cas was about to pull out his phone and try to call Sam again when the office door opened and Sam slipped inside, his cheeks red with cold and struggling to keep a hold of the stacks of papers in his arms. Cas immediately rose to his feet and took the papers before they could fall, shooting Sam a look of incredulity. Sam raised an eyebrow and bit his bottom lip apologetically. Cas rolled his eyes slightly and returned to his seat, placing the stack of papers carefully on his lap. "We haven't started yet."

"You shouldn't have waited," Sam slid into the seat next to Cas, pulling off his hat and gloves and setting them on the floor next to him. He rubbed his fingers together to work some feeling back into them and glanced over at Cas; he could feel the smaller man's irritation from where he sat, and Sam knew he fully deserved it, even if he couldn't really help being late. He should have called when Ansem hadn't been picked up by five. "I'm so sorry, one of the kids was picked up late, and I was the only one there to watch him."

"It's fine," Mrs. Atkins said sharply, cutting off Cas's reply before he could begin speaking. "I think it would be best if we just continued. Now, your application was approved, and after the home study we've been conducting the past few months, the agency has decided to allow children to be placed in your home."

Cas couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corner of his lips when he heard. It had taken a little over a year and a hell of a lot of work to get their application accepted. The home study had been the easier part, surprisingly. Since Cas had ditched his crappy apartment and Sam had moved out of the house he shared with some of his friends from college, they'd found a condo on the edge of town together. It had enough space for Cas's plants and Sam's art supplies, and they'd chosen it with the idea of a child (or maybe more than one, Cas's mind couldn't help but supply) in mind. He felt Sam's fingers lace through his and squeeze tightly, and he heard the low sigh of relief that escaped Sam's lips. His irritation with Sam melted away almost completely and his heart softened at the good news. He couldn't help it; they were getting a kid.

"Thank you," Sam said, a wide grin splitting his face and his eyes bright. "So that means we can…that means we can start looking, right?"

"Correct," Mrs. Atkins replied, glancing at the clock. She was probably running late for her next appointment. Sam swallowed hard, trying to ignore the guilt nagging at the back of his mind. "And we will be happy to help you with that process, of course. It will take a few months; hopefully, you will be able to visit the children in their foster homes a few times before you make a final decision. Take a look at these pamphlets and be sure to fill out the forms in this folder over the weekend. Why don't you call the main office next week and we'll set up an appointment, alright?"

"That sounds great," Sam replied, standing up when she did and shaking her hand. Cas stuck the papers under his arm and reached out to shake her hand as well, trying to contain the ecstatic smile threatening to spread across his face. "We'll call. Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me," she waved him off. "Thanks you both, for opening your home to children who need it. I'm sure you'll find one that fits, and I'm sure you will both make excellent parents. Have a good night."

She picked up her folders and strode out of the room. The click of her low-heeled shoes faded as she moved down the hallway towards the reception area. Cas felt Sam's arms wrap around his waist and he found himself being turned around to face his partner. Sam grinned down at him and pecked the tip of his nose, his hands resting at the small of Cas's back to keep him in place. "My God, Cas…"

Cas slung his arms around Sam's neck and went up on his toes to kiss Sam on the mouth, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair and grinning unashamedly. "We're going to be parents, Sam; we're going to have our own kids…"

Sam hugged Cas tightly, resting his chin on the top of Cas's head and pressing his nose into Cas's dark, ruffled hair. He could feel the accelerated beat of Cas's heart though the fabric of his jacket. He pressed his lips to the top of Cas's head and squeezed his waist, a warm feeling of contentment spreading through his chest. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Cas replied, his lips brushing Sam's collarbone. He could smell the faint scent of glue and peanut butter that lingered on Sam from his classroom under his usual scent of his herbal shampoo and worn leather. He smiled, and Sam felt his lips curl against his skin. Cas batted his chest lightly, too elated to really be annoyed anymore. "Don't think this means you're completely forgiven for being late."

"Of course not," Sam smirked a little bit, knowing by the lilt in Cas's tone that his anger was already forgotten.

Sam hated recess duty almost more than he hated clowns.

The playground was swarming with what must have been over two hundred kids raging from five years old to thirteen years old. He loved the kids individually, or in small groups, but when there was a whole pack of fourth grade boys arguing over a call in four square, he wasn't so enthusiastic. It was absolute chaos some days.

That day was just chaotic enough that Sam didn't notice one of the kids fall off the wooden play set until a loud shriek of pain pierced through the din of the playground, rising above the voices of the rest of the crowd. Sam straightened up at once and took off towards where he'd heard the yelp. A group of older kids had gathered around the boy who had fallen to stare at him curiously. Sam pushed them back, trying to get to the kid sprawled out on the ground. "Hey, let me through. Give him some space, guys, go over by the climbing wall."

Some of them cleared out, but the more curious ones hung around to watch. Ansem had slipped on the edge of one of the platforms of the playground and toppled off. Sam figured he'd tried to catch himself on one of the bars, but had been unable to get a grip and landed hard on his wrist. He was curled up on his side, clutching his arm to his chest and biting back sobs of pain. Sam knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him down. Ansem flinched away from his touch and curled up into a smaller ball, whimpering softly.

"Hey, Ansem, it's just me," Sam said soothingly, moving to get a better look at Ansem's wrist. There was no blood or exposed bone, so Sam hoped fervently that it was just a sprain and not a break. He remembered when he was seven and he'd broken his wrist falling down the stairs; he'd screamed bloody murder. Ansem seemed to recognize Sam slightly and calmed down a little, tears streaming down his face silently. His wrist definitely wasn't broken, Sam noted with relief. Sam ran a hand through Ansem's hair comfortingly and glanced around the playground for another one of the teachers on duty. Ash was making his way over to help clear out the stragglers that were hovering around Sam and Ansem. Sam took a deep breath and asked gently, "We'll get you to the nurse, okay? You'll be fine, she'll fix you up. Can you walk?"

Ansem's chest heaved with silent sobs and he nodded shortly, allowing Sam to help him stand. He clung to Sam's leg the same way he'd clung to his brother's a few days before as best he could with his hurting arm. A cold wet patch formed on the side of his jeans where Ansem's tears soaked into the dark denim. Sam tried to ignore the slight tug at his heart and led him inside to the main office through the front doors. He could feel Ansem's tiny body shaking with sobs, but the kid seemed more afraid than hurt. Sam knocked on the door to the nurse's office and pushed the door open when Ellen called gruffly, "Come on in."

Ellen was hunched over her desk, flipping through a stack of papers in a folder. She looked up when they came in and rose to her feet immediately, putting a hand on Ansem's back to lead him to the cot under the window of her office. "Have a seat, sweetie." She glanced over at Sam as she knelt down in front of Ansem and took the child's arm carefully. "What happened?"

"He slipped off the playground," Sam replied, watching her probe at the injury gently. Ansem already had a few splotches on his arms in the pattern and shape of fingerprints, almost. He caught himself wincing when he saw the wince cross Ansem's face as Ellen poked at one particularly nasty bruise.

Ellen let go of Ansem and crossed the room to her desk before pulling a roll of ace bandages out of one of the drawers. Ansem watched her quietly with a look of disinterest, as if he was in a fog. The lack of reaction after such an honest display of tears shook Sam a little bit, and he grew more concerned. Ellen returned to her position in front of him and smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm just going to wrap your wrist up in this so it heals alright, kid. It's nothing too bad at all." She glanced up at Sam and added for his benefit, "It's a sprain. I'll write out some instructions on how to treat it and you can give them to his parents when they come to pick him up."

Sam nodded and watched as she bound his wrist tightly with the gauze. Ansem nervously glanced up at Sam with teary eyes and looked away quickly when he saw Sam looking at him. Sam bit his lip and glanced towards the main office. "I'll call his dad to come pick him up."

Ansem whimpered as Ellen tightened the bandage around his wrist.

Sam waited in the main office for Travis Gallagher to show up. He'd managed to convince Jo, the first grade teacher down the hall, to take over his class and let them join in the holiday card decorating in her classroom until he was sure Ansem's dad was here to get him. Ansem was sitting complacently on the cot, flipping through a picture book Ellen had given him with his good hand to entertain himself. He stared blankly at the book, his eyes unmoving, but flipped the page every minute or so. Sam realized he wasn't really reading it and watched him turn the pages periodically, wondering where he'd learned to do that.

"How are you feeling, Ansem?" Sam asked quietly, startling the child.

Ansem shrugged and nodded, his red-rimmed eyes meeting Sam's gaze; Sam could only see honesty there. He took it as a positive sign and smiled slightly. "Good. If you need anything, let me know, alright?"

Ansem nodded, smiling a little bit. Sam's heart warmed when he saw the small grin.

"I'm Travis Gallagher. I got a call saying my son was hurt."

Sam lifted his head at the sound of a man's voice and, with a start, recognized Andy standing in the main office next to an older man who was undoubtedly Travis Gallagher.

He stood up and approached the man, holding out his hand. "Hi, Mr. Gallagher. I'm Sam Winchester, Ansem's teacher."

"You're his teacher?" Gallagher repeated incredulously, shaking Sam's hand firmly. His eyes flickered over Sam from his long hair to his battered boots and he pursed his lips doubtfully.

Sam forced a smile and nodded shortly, used to that reaction by now. People seemed put off to have a twenty five year old, over six foot tall male teaching a bunch of five year olds. "Yes. He just fell off the playground today and hurt his wrist. It's only a sprain. The nurse wrote out some instructions for you on when to ice it and how to treat it."

"Damn kids," Gallagher muttered under his breath, accepting the paper Sam handed him. Sam smiled in greeting at Andy. Andy smiled back weakly, crossing his arms over his chest. The bruise around his eye had faded by then, but a new series of marks had bloomed across his cheek and trailed under the collar of his heavy sweatshirt. Gallagher motioned for Ansem to stand up and come over to them. Ansem slid off the cot and scampered across the room towards his father, his head ducked. When he was close enough, Andy's hand immediately reached out to pull him close and remained with a cautionary grip on his shoulder. Gallagher turned to the secretary and asked gruffly, "Do I need to sign him out or something?"

"No, it's taken care of," she replied, glancing up from her computer to smile briefly. "You can take them home."

"Thank you," Gallagher reached out and gripped Andy's wrist tightly to pull him towards the doorway. Andy winced almost imperceptibly under his father's tight grip, but allowed himself to be dragged to the door. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Winchester."

"It was an accident," Sam assured him, not liking the way Gallagher was yanking his son around so roughly, but feeling out of place speaking up. "It's not a big deal. I'm just glad he's okay."

Gallagher froze for a moment, not releasing his iron grip on his oldest. His cold gaze flickered down to Ansem. Ansem looked up at him with wide, unreadable eyes, clutching his brother's denim clad thigh. Andy moved his hand to rest in Ansem's hair and rubbed small circles on the back of Ansem's neck. A vice tightened around Sam's heart at the sight; Andy's actions towards his brother were almost motherly. As much as Dean would fervently deny it, he'd treated Sam with the same amount of tenderness in an unconscious effort to make up for not having a mother to supply it. Gallagher regarded Ansem's tightly bound arm and pursed his lips. "You're right. Thank you, Mr. Winchester. Have a nice day."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, half-dragging his sons behind him.

There is part one of the series of Sam and Cas adopting children. It picks up in the next installment.

Please let me know what you think if you have time! It means a lot to me:)

Thanks for reading.