Part of the Family Business (A Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, Dean tells us over breakfast that it's going to be a "chill day".

"So, no laptop," Dean says as he shovels the eggs I made into his mouth. "You're a good cook, princess," he says to me with a wink.

On the other side of the small table, Sam frowns. "Why no laptop?"

"Because," Dean whines, "you'll get into something and want to do something, and I don't want to do something."

"But I can't have it just to, like-"

"No," Dean interrupts. Sam rolls his eyes, and I smile down at my plate of bacon and eggs. We stayed in for breakfast so I could: 1, show off my cooking skills, and 2, eat as much of it as I want without having to constantly ask for more.

"Do you have anything planned for our 'chill day'?" I ask Dean. He glances up at me with a frown.

"No," he says before looking at Sam. "Do you?"

"Uhh," Sam glances between us two, "a picnic?"

"Sure," Dean says happily, smiling over at me. "Sound good, princess?"

I just nod, because my mouth is full of bacon. Dean laughs a bit, and Sam just continues to eat his food. The rest of breakfast is eaten in silence only broken by me moving the chair to get more food. In the end, I throw some up, but not as much as I used to.

"How long does this morning sickness stuff last?" Sam asks as he pulls on his boots.

"3 months," I say with a shrug. Both boys freeze mid-motion and look at me. "But, uh, my mom didn't have it that long, so I probably won't." Sam sighs and stands once he's finished tying his last shoe.

"I'm going out to get some picnic stuff. Anything you don't want?" Sam says.

"If you get peanut butter, don't get that crunchy stuff," Dean says.

"And no wheat bread," I add. "Or lettuce."

"Alright. No crunchy peanut butter; no wheat bread; no lettuce - is that it?" Sam asks, his hand on the doorknob.

"Yeah, thanks," I say with a grin. He smiles back before leaving. I flop down on the bed beside Dean. Immediately, his arms are around me, and his lips are on my neck.

"I don't want to talk about it today, okay?" Dean says into my collarbone. "I want to worry about that later." His hand traces an invisible line up and down my stomach that tickles.

I try to hold back a smile. "So do I," I say. Eventually, we fall asleep there, but I'm not asleep for long. Since the pregnancy - which started, like, 2 days ago - it's been hard to stay still. Trying not to disturb Dean, I slide off of the bed and go over into the kitchen area. My leg swings up and over the side of the sink, and I manage to pull myself in.

I sit in the sink, looking out the window above it. After a while, I spot the Impala pull into a slot right in front of our room. Sam gets out, and I can see quite a few bags in the back seat.

Quickly, I get out of the sink and walk out the door.

"Do you need help with those?" I ask Sam. He nods with a smile, and I walk around the car. We pull bags from opposite sides of the back seat until we can't hold anymore. I shut the car door with my butt and follow Sam into the motel room. He sets the bags he had on the counter and closes the door behind me as I set my bags on the kitchen table and chairs.

"This is a lot," I remark, staring around the kitchen.

"Well, I had to get a basket and some blankets. I didn't exactly have a picnic basket on hand," Sam responds with a lopsided grin. Behind me, I hear a groan. I turn around and see that Dean has woken up.

"Do you want help us make sandwiches?" Sam asks Dean enthusiastically. I giggle and start to take things out of bags.

"Sure," he replies before walking into the bathroom.

"Was I really out long enough for him to nap?" Sam asks, his voice low. I just shrug and continue to unload stuff. Dean walks out of the bathroom and scratches the back of his head.

"I'm not exactly the sandwich-making type," Dean says as he takes a seat. "I can put the stuff in the basket, though," he adds with a smile. I giggle again, and he pulls me by the waist closer to him.

"Wait," he says and looks down at my butt. "Why's your butt wet?"

"I sat in the sink," I say, glancing around nervously. Sam lets out a sudden laugh. "What? I wanted to look out the window!"

Dean shakes his head and laughs with Sam. I roll my eyes and try not to laugh.

"These sandwiches aren't going to make themselves," I say over their laughter as I take the bread. After a while of everyone laughing - because I gave in - we manage to make a couple different sandwiches with lunch meat and cheese and stuff on them. Dean has organized the basket so the macaroni and egg salad are on one side, the drinks are in the middle, and the bagged sandwiches are on the other side.

"What about the silverware?" Sam asks as we look down to admire Dean's work.

"Just throw them on top, doofus," Dean replies.

"I'm not a doofus, jerk," Sam shoots back.

"Bitch," Dean replies simply. They smile at each other before walking to the door.

"Help Chrys with the blankets," Sam says as he walks out with the basket.

"But I'm the doorholder," he says. I roll my eyes and smile as I pick up the stack of 2 thick blankets.

"I don't even need help," I say right in Dean's face as I pass him. He moves his hand out like he's going to hit the blankets, and I flinch. We both laugh and walk out to the car. Dean opens the door for me, and I slide into the back, putting the blankets in the middle beside me. Then he shuts the door and walks around to get in the driver's seat.

Eventually, we're driving up a small hill that's just grass - no trees. The three of us get out of the car and help each other get the stuff to the peak of the hill. It isn't that steep, so nobody has a problem. Today the sky is baby blue and dotted with tufts of white; the sun hangs over us like an old friend that just had to tag along. There's a slight breeze as we lay down the blankets and sit on them.

We sat and talked about dads and moms and alcohol and everything else. That's when I realized we were three pieces of glass that fit perfectly together to make a window that looked out onto better days.

And that a fourth piece just wouldn't fit right.