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Sam’s sitting on Bobby’s couch feeding Harlow and staring in the television’s direction but not really watching it.
Harlow’s being wiggly. She either wants all of Sam’s attention or has grander plans than eating. It’s weird, really, because Sam never thought he’s have an almost seven month old nursing at his chest. Forget the nursing part; he never thought he would have a seven month old daughter, period.
But Harlow’s here, so are her brothers, Lucas and Daniel. It makes no sense but nothing in their lives does.
He has no idea where Dean is but he hopes he gets his ass home soon. He fed Lucas a bottle before he started nursing Harlow; he’s only one man, he can’t nurse all three of their kids. Technically, he shouldn’t be able to nurse at all. Regardless, Harlow is going to tap him out and Daniel isn’t going to understand “wait for daddy.”
The object of his thoughts bangs through the back screen door and walks into the room. He’s wearing a worn leather jacket that is probably too warm for such a beautiful spring day but Sam knows better than to try arguing. He’s also wearing a face like he thinks he’s done something clever.
“What? What did you do?” Sam repositions Harlow and raises an eyebrow at his brother.
“Who says I did anything?” Dean shifts his weight and his gaze softens as he looks at Sam feeding their daughter. Harlow reacts to his voice and turns away from Sam’s chest, giving Dean a coo and a wide eyed baby smile. “Hi, pumpkin.”
Harlow smacks her lips and makes a concentrated pursed lips expression. She practically goes cross eyed when Dean taps her on the nose, blinking her eyes in surprise.
“Huh.” Sam narrows his eyes at Dean and pulls Harlow onto his lap. His shirt falls closed and he tries to figure out what Dean looks so proud about. He figures Dean is probably gloating about Harlow, how he’s proud that he made her, though at the time of her birth Sam was pretty sure Satan made her because she hurt like hell coming out and he had been the one doing all the work. Then again, Dean had his own agenda double booked with Daniel and Lucas’ births. But Dean is staring at the two of them so Sam stares back, realizing Dean’s got one hand behind his back. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” Dean shrugs and looks towards their sons sitting in their playpen, smacking the floor happily to bounce their toys around. “They okay?”
“They’re fine. Daniel’s probably hungry.” Sam cocks his head to the side and tries to look around Dean’s back but his brother evades him and sidesteps to keep centered in Sam’s line of vision. “Seriously, Dean? Are we five?”
“Fine.” Dean huffs and throws a modestly wrapped present down on the couch beside Sam. There is a card taped to it bearing Sam’s name.
Sam doesn’t know what he was expecting but it definitely wasn’t a present. It must read all over his face because Dean is laughing while he pulls Harlow into his arms and props the little girl against his hip. Sam turns the box over in his hands for a moment before looking at his brother. “A present? Why?”
“Just open it, Sammy.” Dean presses a kiss to Harlow’s baby round cheek and bounces her until she giggles. “Tell daddy to open it, Harlow.”
Giving Dean and their daughter one last look, Sam forgoes the card and pulls the paper off. There is a plain white box beneath it, but when he gets through that part and the tissue paper, he finds a dark green button up shirt. “A shirt?”
“No, it’s a pair of pants.” Dean snorts. “Yes, it’s a shirt. Seriously? Did these kids fry your brain while I was out?”
Rolling his eyes, Sam flips Dean the finger before pulling the shirt out of the box. It’s a nice shirt and, since feeding the kids, his life revolves around button downs more than ever before, but he has no idea why his brother is giving him a shirt. “No…I mean. A shirt? Why?”
Looking a little uncomfortable, Dean scratches the back of his neck. Sam swears there is a faint blush rising in his brother’s cheeks but it is gone before he can make note of it. Pointing to the forgotten card, Dean’s voice is a half hearted command. “Just open the card.”
Sam does. It takes him a minute to read it but when he does, he practically chokes on a breath. He throws Dean a ‘you’re shitting me’ glare, voice thick with disbelief. “Happy Mother’s Day?”
“Yeah, uhh…”
“Seriously? Happy Mother’s Day?” Sam scans the card again just to make sure his first assumption was correct. It was. He sees Dean’s name scrawled near the bottom of the card. Directly under it is Harlow’s. “What the fuck, Dean? I’m not a mother.”
Dean puts Harlow in the playpen next to her brothers. Daniel whines and tires to grab hold of him but Dean ruffles his hair and tells him to hold on a minute. “Well…you kinda are. I mean, come on Sammy, you are the closest thing these kids are going to have to a mother. And let’s face it, you’re the girl in this relationship.”
“Really?” Sam’s words have a bite. He’s annoyed. It’s one thing to get whammied by a fertility goddess and push out a kid; it is another thing to lose your status as a man. He isn’t a mother. He isn’t a girl. “Not a girl Dean.” He scowls and huffs out a loud breath.
“I’m not saying you are a girl. I am saying you are like a girl.” Dean gives a goofy grin in an attempt to deflect Sam’s annoyance.
It doesn’t work. Sam’s scowl only deepens. “Not. A. Girl.” Because, really, Sam’s not. He’s got impressive male parts and giving birth in a motel bathroom can’t take that away from him.
“Hey, I was just trying to do something nice for Mother’s Day. I figured you deserve it; you’re amazing with them. Besides, it’s from Harlow too. Blame her.”
“I’m not blaming a seven month old. I’m pretty sure she has nothing to do with your ‘nice’ gesture.”
“She kinda has everything to do with it. You gave birth to her. You take care of her. You nurse her. You’re like her mom.” Dean takes a step back when Sam scoffs in the back of his throat.
“Your logic is ridiculous. I’m her father. So are you.” Sam looks towards the playpen and shrugs. “Sorry kids. You have no mom. You got stuck with me and this,” he hitches a thumb at Dean, “bonehead for a father.” Sam puffs up his chest and looks Dean square in the eye. “I’m not their mother or a girl. I can remind you of exactly why that would be biologically inaccurate later, if you need me to.”
Dean admits defeat with a sigh. “I’m not saying you’re a girl. I know you’re not. I love that you’re not. I just thought you would like to be appreciated.”
“I would,” Sam waits a beat and speaks with a warning tone that this Mother’s Day fiasco should never happen again, “on Father’s Day.”
“Okay, yeah. Father’s day.” Dean licks his lips, hesitates like he has more to say, then turns on his heels and scoops Daniel up from the playpen. His firstborn is pushy and hungry, rooting at Dean’s shirt before the man even has a chance to sit down. “Okay, okay. Hold on Danny.” He plops down in a beat up – or well loved as Bobby calls it – leather arm chair. “What the hell?” Reaching behind his back, he pulls out an envelope that had poked him in the side. Giving Sam a queer look, he puts it on his thigh, ignoring it while he pulls open his shirt’s top buttons. It’s weird and he doesn’t nurse as often as Sam, but the fertility goddess’ curse still has a firm hold on them and they figured they might as well nurse their kids while they still can. Daniel doesn’t waste any time, he knows the drill. He finds Dean’s nipple and starts nursing impatiently, making Dean wince with his greedy movement. “Fuck, he hurts sometimes.”
Sam gives a nervous laugh, turning the shirt over in his hands. “It’s a nice shirt.”
“Yeah?”
Sam doesn’t miss the satisfaction in Dean’s voice. He smiles, chews his bottom lip, and nods. “Yeah, it’s nice. I…I’m not their mom, but I appreciate the thought. So, um….thanks.”
“Welcome.” Dean smiles. He strokes Daniel’s back several times before remembering the envelope on his lap.
“You don’t have to open that.” Sam makes a grabbing motion for it but Dean pulls it away, practically holding it over his head.
“Oh no, now I really want to see what is inside.” Dean tears at the paper while Sam gets fidgety. With a burst of scoffing laughter, Dean stares at Sam. “Seriously?” He flips the Happy Mother’s Day card he just received towards Sam. “Are you serious right now?”
“Well…I…” Sam gives up on words and shrugs.
“You think I’m their mom? Me?” Dean’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Are you crazy?” He looks at the card again, finding Sam’s, Daniel’s and Lucas’ names at the bottom. “Hell no, Sammy. Told you, you’re the girl in this relationship.”
Sam thinks in silence for a moment before a bright smile lights up his face. He mimics Dean’s earlier statements. “I’m not saying you are a girl.” Because, really, Sam knows he’s not. He’s had Dean’s dick in, on, and under him enough times to know how much of a man Dean is. It's just, he thought the idea of giving his brother a Mother's Day card had been so hilarious that he couldn't help himself. “But I did watch you give birth to Daniel and Lucas, saw them grow in your belly, watched you nurse both of them. And Harlow too.” He eyes Dean and their oldest son nursing contently at his chest.
Dean follows Sam’s gaze. He knows his brother is staring at the proof of his statements and he tries to cover Daniel up so that they aren’t on such display. Only, he doesn’t. There is no way he is going to stop Daniel from having his meal and he isn’t going to pretend he is ashamed of nursing him – even though he does hate that his manly body can do so and talking about it makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t hate taking care of his kids.
Lost for a comeback, Dean grumbles. Sam is using his own logic against him. “We’ll at least I gave birth to boys. Your girly self gave birth to Harlow.” It’s a weak retort but it’s all Dean has and he gives a cocky grin.
Laughing louder this time, Sam shakes his head. “You know, Dean, the sperm is what decides the baby’s gender. All fucked up fertility goddess supernatural pregnancy weirdness aside, that means I gave you boys and you gave me a girl. So I guess you have a bit of a girl in you.” Sam crosses his arms. He decides that he is the winner of this fight. Technically he knows he is being a hypocrite. They’ve both made the same Mother’s Day assumption and are pissed off for the same reasons. Besides, he and Dean love all of their kids, the supernatural details of their birth don’t matter – not really.
They’re both not mothers, but that isn’t going to stop them from trying to prove the other person wrong.
Dean snorts. “Well….” He practically growls at Sam. “I’m their dad. There is no way I am their mother.”
Sam shrugs. “Okay, so…we’re on the same page with the ‘we are both men’ idea?”
Nodding, Dean gives Sam a serious look. “Yeah, very firmly on the same page.”
They go quiet for a minute before Dean reads the card over again. He hums and turns it towards Sam. “You know, it’s a nice card and everything…like, the things it says. Aside from the ‘mother’ part, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But at least I got you a gift.” Dean smirks, back to feeling like the winner of this fight.
Sam wipes the grin of his face with his reply. “Your gift is in the refrigerator: two 6-packs of beer and two filet mignon steaks waiting to be grilled.”
“Oh!’ Dean’s stomach growls, making Daniel pull away and look at his father with a puzzled milky face. “So, um….can they just be early father’s day gifts then?”
Sam stands up and walks towards the armchair. Leaning down, he kisses Dean’s silly smile. “Yeah. Yeah, they can be.” He smirks before pulling away and looking over his shoulder, “Even though I made boys and you made a girl.” He heads into the kitchen on the sound of Dean’s frustrated outburst of “Sammy!”
It doesn’t matter. Sam’s proved his point.
He wins.