Quick drabble for Seaica.
Mar. 25th, 2011 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rahmiIDEK, Jess/Sam schmoop with babies and Dean being a freak. There is no context in the world that can excuse this shit.
"Your brother is being a creeper and crawling around on the floor again," Jess says.
Sam pauses in cutting up bananas and sighs. "Which room?" he asks.
"Mine!" Rachel screams from her highchair, banging her hands against the plastic. "Daddy, mine!"
"Please," Sam corrects, "Can I please have the bananas, not 'mine.'"
"I think it's cute that you're trying to teach the ten month old manners," Jess says, then, "Seriously, Sam, are we just wasting the guest room? Can I turn it into a second study?"
"I'll talk to him."
"Dude," Sam says, leaning in the doorway, "You're starting to creep Jessica out."
Dean's head peeks out from under the crib. "Worse than I usually do?" he asks.
Sam sighs, pushes himself off the doorframe, and crouches down next to his brother. "She called you a creeper."
"Dude, harsh." Dean scowls at Sam briefly before he goes back to fiddling with a butterfly knife. Under Sam's son's crib. No wonder Jessica was a little creeped out.
"You look like a creeper right now," Sam says. There's cat's eye shells scattered all along the carpet and a ring of salt that looks new; he's given up on explaining to Dean that those kinds of things tend to really freak Jessica out.
Dean grins and waves the knife at him. "It's all part of the charm," he says.
"Are you carving up the bottom of the crib?" Sam asks.
"Wouldn't have to if you guys didn't boink like freakin' rabbits," Dean says. "Danny's, what, eight and a half months younger than Rachel? Dude, that's gotta be some kind of record. Irish twins, right?"
"Jess will kick your ass if she hears you say that," Sam says, "How do you even know what that means?"
"Had a threesome with a pair of Irish twins once," Dean says. His tongue pokes out of his mouth as he drags the knife against the wood; his eyes flick sideways to meet Sam's.
"Of course you did."
Sam pushes himself up onto his knees to check on Daniel (still sleeping like a little angel because it's three in the afternoon and not three in the morning) before he grabs Dean's arm with one hand. "Come out from under there," he says. "You can finish up tonight. After Jess has gone to sleep."
Dean makes a rude noise, but lets Sam pull him out from under the crib. They stand shoulder to shoulder and stare down at his baby; Daniel blows a spit bubble in his sleep. There are crusties around his nose from the newest bout of whatever miraculous colicky colds babies get, but other than that, he's perfect.
Sam might be a little biased though.
"Danny's cuter than you were as a baby," Dean decides.
"It's Daniel," Sam says. "Or Dan. It's one letter off your name, I'm sure you can remember it."
Dean claps him on his shoulder. "Whatever you say, Sammy. What's the little wife making for dinner?"
"The 'little wife' is taller than you," Jess retorts from behind them. "And she has heels and isn't afraid to put the pointy end up your ass. What the hell are you doing waving a knife around in my baby's room?"
"Your brother is being a creeper and crawling around on the floor again," Jess says.
Sam pauses in cutting up bananas and sighs. "Which room?" he asks.
"Mine!" Rachel screams from her highchair, banging her hands against the plastic. "Daddy, mine!"
"Please," Sam corrects, "Can I please have the bananas, not 'mine.'"
"I think it's cute that you're trying to teach the ten month old manners," Jess says, then, "Seriously, Sam, are we just wasting the guest room? Can I turn it into a second study?"
"I'll talk to him."
"Dude," Sam says, leaning in the doorway, "You're starting to creep Jessica out."
Dean's head peeks out from under the crib. "Worse than I usually do?" he asks.
Sam sighs, pushes himself off the doorframe, and crouches down next to his brother. "She called you a creeper."
"Dude, harsh." Dean scowls at Sam briefly before he goes back to fiddling with a butterfly knife. Under Sam's son's crib. No wonder Jessica was a little creeped out.
"You look like a creeper right now," Sam says. There's cat's eye shells scattered all along the carpet and a ring of salt that looks new; he's given up on explaining to Dean that those kinds of things tend to really freak Jessica out.
Dean grins and waves the knife at him. "It's all part of the charm," he says.
"Are you carving up the bottom of the crib?" Sam asks.
"Wouldn't have to if you guys didn't boink like freakin' rabbits," Dean says. "Danny's, what, eight and a half months younger than Rachel? Dude, that's gotta be some kind of record. Irish twins, right?"
"Jess will kick your ass if she hears you say that," Sam says, "How do you even know what that means?"
"Had a threesome with a pair of Irish twins once," Dean says. His tongue pokes out of his mouth as he drags the knife against the wood; his eyes flick sideways to meet Sam's.
"Of course you did."
Sam pushes himself up onto his knees to check on Daniel (still sleeping like a little angel because it's three in the afternoon and not three in the morning) before he grabs Dean's arm with one hand. "Come out from under there," he says. "You can finish up tonight. After Jess has gone to sleep."
Dean makes a rude noise, but lets Sam pull him out from under the crib. They stand shoulder to shoulder and stare down at his baby; Daniel blows a spit bubble in his sleep. There are crusties around his nose from the newest bout of whatever miraculous colicky colds babies get, but other than that, he's perfect.
Sam might be a little biased though.
"Danny's cuter than you were as a baby," Dean decides.
"It's Daniel," Sam says. "Or Dan. It's one letter off your name, I'm sure you can remember it."
Dean claps him on his shoulder. "Whatever you say, Sammy. What's the little wife making for dinner?"
"The 'little wife' is taller than you," Jess retorts from behind them. "And she has heels and isn't afraid to put the pointy end up your ass. What the hell are you doing waving a knife around in my baby's room?"
