Sam shorts

Family

You stand by the giant front French windows in your home. Your hands move down to your very pregnant belly and you moving all around as you feel kicking. It wasn’t long now until you would be expecting your first little bundle of joy. You think about the time before how you stood in this very spot and rubbed your belly but no one moved inside. Thinking that was normal until you saw the blood in the morning.

Your baby didn’t make it and you took it hard. You didn’t move for days and that took a toll on your husband. He worried and tried so hard to get you out of bed and most days he’d lay there beside you; just holding your hand. That little bit of contact is what you needed and he helped you through that nightmare. When you decided to try again he was immediately on board.

Now eight and a half months later your hands rub a very active belly. Staring out the window you feel two arms wrap around you and end on yours on your belly. His chin rests on your shoulder and he moves and kisses your cheek. “Hey Sam,” you nearly whisper out. “What were you thinking about?” You move on hand on top of his, “nothing.” “Y/N don’t lie to me. Babe, stop thinking about the past. This baby, our baby, is more than healthy and will visit us in a few weeks.”

You pat his hand, “I know, I know. Is it done?” He nestles his head by your neck, “it is and the window is open to let the fumes out.” When you turn around you move your hands to your face. You see green paint specks in his hair, face and shirt. “Aw honey. You got paint on you.” He laughs a little, “I know,” he leans in, “but I won.” You smile and he smiles at your smile.

Waddling to the room you stand in the doorway you look around at the green walls. “I like this color much better than the yellow.” “Me too.” Standing in the doorway you envision all the things to fill your baby’s room. You see the crib and the changing table and the toys and the shelves filled with books and Sam in a rocking chair in the corner with your bundle of joy in his arms. A tear runs down your cheek and Sam sees it, “hey, what’s wrong?” You look up at him, “absolutely nothing.”

He leans down and gives you a kiss. “Okay mommy let’s get you dressed.” You look at him in confusion, “seriously y/n why did I buy you that calendar if you don’t look at it?” You put your hands on your hips, “I don’t know, why did you?” He lifts his pointer to your nose and presses it, “okay then. Let’s get some pants on you.” You follow him into the bedroom and he helps you get dressed. You now have to wear the stretchiest pants you own because of your giant but perfectly rounded tummy.

You move into the bathroom to put a little color on your face while he gets dressed. He grabs a washcloth and removes the paint he got on himself. “Do you know what Bobby’s cooking? Or ordering in anyway?” “No clue babe but I did give him the list of foods you can’t have.” Ever since your pregnancy, Uncle Bobby as you call him has been in overdrive making sure you get everything you need. He invites the two of you over regularly and often you see Dean there.

You love seeing Sam and Dean interact with each other and smile when he asks if he can touch your belly. It seems everyone has rubbed your Buddha belly at some point but you didn’t mind. Taking a deep breath as you stand your hands move once more to your belly and you grab your purse and Sam helps you out the door. “Careful, be careful,” he says as you lean in and plop in the seat. “I’m in,” you proudly announce so he can close the door.

The two hour drive seems shorter and shorter each time you drive it. You both smile as you see the sign for Singer Auto and pull in. Getting more and more into his salvage yard you see a familiar black impala already there. You look over at Sam, “Dean’s here.” “Yea, any mention of food and free beer and you’ll find him.” He chuckles as he exits the car and runs around to your side. You’ve already started to try to get out but without your strong husband there to pull, you can’t quite seem to make it.