FIC: Open The Door To An Empty Room
Jul. 25th, 2010 02:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dollarformynameTitle: Open The Door To An Empty Room
Author: ![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
dollarformyname
Fandoms: Supernatural
Genre: gen
Characters: Mary, John, Dean
Rating: G
Warnings: May cause diabetes and/or spontaneous tooth decay.
Timeline/Spoilers: Pre-series. No spoilers.
Word Count: 2,105
Summary: Sammy was awesome, right from the start. Dean reflects.
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, and other people who aren't me.
A/N: I was feeling nostalgic.
Sam is awesome. Dean has known this since the day he found out his mother's belly had a new resident.
At the age of three, Dean had a clear understanding of the world. Mommy was beautiful, soft comfort with clean smells and a smile that wrinkled her nose up and the feeling of vertigo that came with silly dancing and spinning in circles. Daddy was rough, stinky safety with a prickly face and sandpaper laughter and black fingertips at the end of the longest arms in all of existence because they could hold Dean and Mommy and Sam-in-Mommy's belly all at once.
And Sammy. Sammy was awesome, right from the start. Dean is adamant about this.
He had a baby brother camping out inside Mom, just wiggling around in there and growing all his important parts in order to face the world. Dean didn't believe them when they told him he'd come into being the very same way. Dean was three, he understood how things worked. He didn't remember any of this being born nonsense. But this awesome little brother creature growing himself into existence inside Mommy's tummy? That was real. He could see it, feel it, hear it and, most importantly, remember it, and that made it true.
Dean had wanted a little brother since he'd met his friend Vincent's little brother. Vincent lived down the street and kept telling him about the wrinkly thing that cried all night and smelled real bad, and at first, Dean wondered what horrible thing Vincent had done to merit such a punishment. When posed this very question, Vincent had made his Mom-made-me-eat-sauerkraut face, fat hazel eyes scrunched up beneath his fuzzy-caterpillar eyebrows, and shrugged, utterly baffled at his sudden, redheaded stepchild treatment.
Then he ushered Dean upstairs to sneak a peek at the horrid little monster that was infringing on his otherwise awesome life.
Dean had caught sight of the white cage they kept it in and shivered, thinking it must be godawful if they had to keep it contained. But once he stuck his face up to the bars and actually saw it, he'd been completely horrified.
It was tiny. Dean thought he could fit it in his bug jar, that was how tiny it was. Tiny and pink with miniature human features. And he'd deny this to his dying day, but it was adoooorable. It was sleeping and making bubbles without the aid of a bubble wand, and it had tiny little hands and feet that needed to be held and protected, not cordoned off from the world like it was some hideous, infectious thing.
Dean had instantly turned and socked his friend in the nose, then ran down the stairs screaming in a voice pitched to alert the National Guard, “They're keepin' the lil bruver in a caaaage!” tears streaming down his cheeks because he absolutely could not comprehend such abhorrent behavior toward something so awesome.
He'd been inconsolable for a few hours, unable to process his mother's explanation about cribs so babies wouldn't fall and hurt themselves.
When he finally stopped crying and let the information sink in, he'd nodded solemnly and said, “I wanna lil bruver for my own.” He crossed his little arms and pooched out his lower lip, waiting for the inevitable concession that would see them all in the car and on the way to the little brother store.
His mom had given him that look, like when he'd asked what made boys and girls different other than the fact that girls were clearly diseased and not as awesome, and he knew this request was going to require some heavy-duty wheedling. He resolved to put in overtime.
The next day, he demanded someone spell out 'little brother' for him so he could figure out how to connect his squiggly lines together in such a way as to make it clear on paper. An early letter to Santa consisted of the phrase scribbled all over it in crooked patterns, and he even went so far as to leave his request for the tooth fairy (even if he hadn't lost any teeth yet and she had no reason to visit) and stashed it under his pillow, just in case she made a mistake like the post office did sometimes. At Easter, he left plastic eggs with 'little brother' notes crumpled up inside them for every candy egg he found and he was all prepared to wish on stars and birthday candles just as soon as they rolled around.
He was going to have a little brother, by God, and he was going to show Vincent and all big brothers the world over how it was done.
The summer before Dean's fourth birthday, he'd been at the Wal-Mart with his mom and saw a beacon of holy light in the book aisle. It was a children's book, all pale blue with white lettering and surrounded in a divine glow, a picture of a giggling baby smack in the center.
“I neeeeeeed it!” he'd insisted fiercely and instantly.
“You don't know how to read,” his mother had pointed out sagely, but Dean saw the curl of her lips that said she would cave with just the right application of cute.
So he pouted and widened his eyes just so, and aimed a trembling finger at the two pertinent words out of the string of indecipherable letters that made up the title. “It says lil brudder.”
Dean won his book fair and square.
He took it home and devoured every detail of the pictures as if he could glean all pertinent information about the most important topic ever from those alone, then circled the words little and brother all throughout the book, whether they were positioned next to each other or not. He quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't enough and asked his dad to read it to him until he had A Day In The Life Of A Baby Brother memorized.
It wasn't long before Dean recognized any word from that book in the outside world, which led to his dad pulling him aside from his very important Tonka smash-and-crash in the dirt one day with his serious face.
Dean was instantly wary, wondering what he'd done wrong.
His dad just smiled and said, “I'm real proud of you, Dean. You know you're pretty smart, don't ya?”
Dean beamed under this sudden praise from out of nowhere and nodded, because it seemed like the appropriate response.
His dad's grin got real big as he wiped at the dirt smudges on Dean's face and he continued, “Smart boys like you oughta be in school. Your momma and me found a good place that'll help you get smarter. What d'ya think about that?”
Dean scrunched up his face in thought, then asked, “Will it help me get a lil brudder?”
His dad cleared his throat and coughed funny. “It doesn't work like that, kiddo.”
Dean huffed and plopped back down, sending up a puff of dust as he returned to his regularly scheduled truck destruction. “Then I don't care.”
They made him go to school anyway, and Dean tried to be optimistic about it, thought maybe if he was extra good and kept getting smarter, Momma and Daddy might start to come around to his way of thinking. He concentrated on flash cards and colored all his pictures neat as you please, shared the new things he was learning with his parents as soon as he got home each day, just so they were suitably up to date on how very deserving he was of big rewards.
This little brother business was hard work, but Dean was a hard little worker, so he figured it was only a matter of time.
Time, however, moved a bit differently beneath that invisible line that separated munchkins from giants, and his busy little life dragged on and on and on, until Dean was afraid he was going to get too big and tall and uncool to properly appreciate a little brother anymore. His parents were taking foreeeeever.
But finally, finally the best day ever came, the day his daddy plucked him up and swung him around and smiled so big and blurted the news of Mommy's pregnancy. Dean didn't know the word, but he understood 'baby' perfectly well and proceeded to imitate a ping-pong ball as he bounced all over the house in glee.
From that day forward, Dean was convinced Sammy had willed himself into existence for his sake alone since no one else had seen fit to answer his politely worded pleas.
Dean had toys to divvy, a room to prepare, plans to make. He set to work right away.
He cleared out his closet and insisted the baby would sleep in there, he wasn't going to be needing any cages, but thanks anyway. His mom laughed and said the baby would have its own room, just like Dean's, and it would be right across the hall so he'd know the second something was amiss.
He needed a moment to weigh the pros and cons of this, but ultimately nodded and went to help move all of Mommy's junk out of the way, started clearing a special corner to fill with toys he'd outgrown and couldn't wait to show his little brother how to play with them.
Dean's after school time slot was officially filled with this and other baby-related tasks, and he may have neglected Vincent and the others a little bit, but they'd get over it eventually.
One day, Daddy was growling at some wood and a piece of complicated origami that came out of a box with a picture of the dreaded baby cage across the front. Mommy was sitting in her rocking chair because her tummy kept getting bigger and it made her feet hurt all the time, talking about names even though Dad wasn't paying attention, and Dean was helping his little brother get a head start on constructing the most awesome Lego village of all time.
He shrugged and nodded and shook his head in response to her suggestions, since Daddy was busy with grumpy-making things that Dean wasn't allowed to go near. Hammers and screwdrivers were just bad business.
Then, for no reason at all, Mommy said, “It might be a little sister.”
Dean startled, and the tallest tower of his castle toppled right over.
He was wounded. Betrayed. He looked at his mom with a wobbling chin and asked with shimmering eyes how she could even utter such blasphemy, said shakily but confidently, “He won't do that to me.”
He refused to entertain the idea of a sister because geez, a girl? That would be like Santa bringing him a Barbie when he'd clearly asked for a G.I. Joe, and nothing would be the better option. Who would deliver a gift no one even asked for? It was insane grown-up logic that Dean hoped to never be afflicted with as he got older.
Mommy shrugged. “What about Samuel?”
Dean approved, commencing repairs on his tower.
“Or Samantha, if it's a girl,” she added softly, and Dean gave her his disgusted face.
“Momma, you gotta stop sayin' that. You're gonna give him a compulse.”
Her eyes crinkled in that way that said he was being utterly adorable, even if he didn't understand how. “A complex?”
“S'what I said.”
She didn't talk about having any more girls after that, but Dean hadn't forgotten it, and started to secretly worry. Just a little bit.
He took to saying goodnight to his mom's tummy, a pointed, “G'night, little brother Sammy,” just so the baby would know what was what, and when Mommy got a belly ache and had to go to the hospital, he crossed his fingers and his toes and his eyes too, waiting and waiting and hoping.
When Daddy came swooping out, all red in the face and happy like a clown, scooping him out of Miss Matty's lap and saying, “Dean! Come on and meet your baby brother!” Dean whooped for joy and knew the baby had heard him and done like he wanted.
Because Sammy, his coveted little brother, was just that awesome.
And he never stopped being so, though Dean never tells him this. He's fairly certain Sam knows. Actions speak louder than words, and Dean is a man of action and Sam's smart, so he should know.
And if he doesn't, well, maybe Stanford screwed up.
But Dean will never tell them that, either.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-25 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-25 09:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 07:39 am (UTC)This was such a great present to find on my f-list on a Monday morning! ; )
I just loved, loved how cute and fuzzy it was.
You have a great inner child voice (totally get kid logic) so... yeah. Awesome. Great Job as per usual DFMN!
Fave bits:
An early letter to Santa consisted of the phrase scribbled all over it in crooked patterns, and he even went so far as to leave his request for the tooth fairy (even if he hadn't lost any teeth yet and she had no reason to visit) and stashed it under his pillow, just in case she made a mistake like the post office did sometimes.
- That is total cute and crazy kid logic. Inspired bit of writing there if you ask me.
He cleared out his closet and insisted the baby would sleep in there, he wasn't going to be needing any cages, but thanks anyway.
- How cool are you? VERY.
And if he doesn't, well, maybe Stanford screwed up.
That and this whole fic really made me S.M.I.L.E. now all you have to do is one about Dean from Sammy's point of view. *ducks head*
xx Dulce
no subject
Date: 2010-07-27 07:00 am (UTC)One from Sammy's POV, huh? Gah! No feeding the muse, It's already obese and bite-y.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 09:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-27 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-27 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-28 09:11 pm (UTC)Hee! The thing is, Sam is just willful enough for that to be possible.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-28 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-28 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-29 01:47 am (UTC)Nicely done. =D
no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-29 03:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-29 04:13 am (UTC)I particularly loved this - SO Dean:
Dean had instantly turned and socked his friend in the nose, then ran down the stairs screaming in a voice pitched to alert the National Guard, “They're keepin' the lil bruver in a caaaage!” tears streaming down his cheeks because he absolutely could not comprehend such abhorrent behavior toward something so awesome.
and the dreaded baby cages, haha. How Dean wanted the baby to sleep in his closet!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 05:59 am (UTC)*smishes DfMN for writing cute tiny!Dean*
no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 04:21 am (UTC)God, I can't imagine what it's going to be like if Dean did get a little sister instead of a little brudder!
And this - He was going to have a little brother, by God, and he was going to show Vincent and all big brothers the world over how it was done. - oh Dean, you certainly showed them. Dean Winchester - best big brother in the whole world!
Thank you for this, I love it :)
no subject
Date: 2010-08-19 04:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-22 08:53 am (UTC)He was wounded. Betrayed. He looked at his mom with a wobbling chin and asked with shimmering eyes how she could even utter such blasphemy, said shakily but confidently, “He won't do that to me.”
I remember crying when my youger brother was born because I wanted a younger sister! LOL
And yes Dean, of course Sam wouldn't do that to you! :)
no subject
Date: 2010-10-23 08:13 am (UTC)Haha, that's cute. I was just upset that *anyone* was born because I didn't wanna share my stuff. ;)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-30 11:09 am (UTC)*almost cries laughing at this*
And can I say, loved the whole thing?
*reminiscent grin* I remember when my baby sis was born... it was like being introduced to a wonderful and beautiful little alien, or unicorn, or something... I used to just sit and stare at her reverently, in case she did something awesome, lol
no subject
Date: 2011-06-01 01:36 am (UTC)