Constellations, for amypond45
Aug. 15th, 2015 06:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_summergenTitle: Constellations
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amypond45
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoiler Warning: Some references to events in season 7.
Word Count: 1449
Summary: They spent eight months getting ready for a baby who came out a little different than expected.
--
"What are we going to call her?" John's big, grease stained hand covered Mary's still mostly flat abdomen, there was just the faintest hint of a baby bump pressing out against her undershirt.
Mary laughed quietly. "We don't know that she's going to be a girl yet."
"But you think?" John asked, the last time, with Dean, Mary had been certain, she had known and John trusted her.
She nodded slowly. "It feels different than Dean, she feels different."
John's grin widened. "A daughter. I hope she looks like her mother."
Mary covered John's hand with her own and tilted her face up to kiss him. "She'll be into everything, just like her brother."
The quiet of the house washed over them and John's smile shrank. "Speaking of brothers. that boy's been quiet for awhile. I'll go check on him." He pressed a kiss of his wife's belly before heading down the stairs to check on his first child.
--
"Amy?" Mary asked. "Never mind, I don't even like saying that. Amanda? Avery? Ava?"
"What's with all the As?" John asked, stirring a pot on the stove and pulling down plates for his wife to set the table.
Mary blushed. "It's the first page in the Baby Name book."
John laughed. "I'm pretty sure my parents just opened a Bible and pointed to the fist name they saw."
"Hmm."
--
"We're not naming our daughter Mordecai."
"But it was the first name I pointed to!" Mary protested.
"You must have done it wrong." John reached for the ancient looking Bible in his wife's hands. For a moment, her grip tightened on it, but she let it go. It was bound in heavy leather and there was a weird stain on the front.
It turned out the Bible didn't want to name their child. Unless Sodom, Lamb, or Leviathan came into fashion into the next few months, John wasn't going to saddle his beautiful baby girl with a terrible name. He fought Mary hard enough against "Dean", who was named Dean anyway?
--
"I never took you for a Bible thumper." John's boss nodded to the good book in his hands.
John shrugged. "I mentioned something and my wife's fixated on naming our daughter something out of it."
The man snorted. "Mary, right? Would it kill people to be original?"
--
"What do you think?"
Mary sighed. "It's a hippy name."
"It's important in the Bible." John protested. "Besides, we can paint constellations on the ceiling of the nursery, so she'll have something nice to look up to. And when she's thirty and gets her ears pierced, we can buy her little silver ones to match."
"Yes!" Dean piped up from his booster seat, tomato sauce smeared liberally across his face. "I want a pet star."
"Your sister isn't a pet." Mary reminded him. The four year old had fixated on the idea that his baby sister was going to be something like a human kitten, since that was the only baby creature he'd ever seen and nothing his parents said could dissuade him from that notion.
"I'll pet her and feed her and protect her. From predators!" Dean proclaimed, proud of himself for remembering the big word he'd learned when John was reading The Jungle Book to him the night before.
--
"We're really doing this?" Mary looked doubtfully at the ceiling. "I'm letting you name my precious baby girl Star?"
John smiled and dabbed a tiny dot of glow in the dark paint on the ceiling of the nursery. "Yes, come on, she'll love it. And we'll give her a boring middle name, so you don't have to worry."
"Anise?"
John's brown crinkled. "That sounds familiar."
Mary nodded. "Star Anise, I think it's in liquorice or toothpaste. Something like that."
"My baby star." John touched his wife's swollen belly. "She's gonna love it here."
--
They took all of the baby things out of the attic. The changing table, high chair, a half empty box of diapers, receiving blankets, and newborn clothes.
"We're not buying new things for an infant." Mary protested when John dragged her out to a baby store. "A one month old doesn't care if her clothes are pink, blue, or covered in puke."
"But..."
"No." Mary put the tiny pink dress back on the pile. "We need diapers and bottle tops. Don't waste money on silly things."
John looked mournfully back at the tiny pink outfits, but dutifully followed his wife to lug around a massive box of diapers. They'd switch back to cloth once Mary had recovered enough to do all the extra laundry.
--
He hadn't been allowed back when Dean was born and although he would never admit it to his wife, John preferred not having to actively participate and observe the birthing process. There was just something about the blood and the smells and the cries and grunts of pain, he'd never been good with these kinds of things.
The sight of blood made him slightly nauseous and he was never going to forget the smell of placenta. The birthing room reminded him of a war zone, and he'd been deployed.
They'd only been at the hospital for two hours when Mary delivered in the early hours of the morning. An exhausted looking doctor cut the cord after John's hands shook too much to hold the scissors.
"Congratulations on your son." The doctor mustered a sleep deprived smile and left, the curtains swinging closed behind him.
"What?" Mary asked, her hair hanging limp and sweaty into her face.
"Everything is just fine, Mrs. Winchester. You had a healthy baby boy." One of the nurses, the one not holding Star, soothed.
"She's supposed to be a girl." Mary whined, her eyes drooping closed.
The nurse patted her. "Sometimes the doctors get these things wrong."
"No." Mary opened her eyes. "I did a spell."
The nurse looked over at John, but he was as lost as she was. "I think she's just overtired." He smoothed his wife's hair back from her face.
"We can't name a son Star though. Just sleep for now." He whispered to his wife. "We'll sort this out in the morning."
The nurse nodded. "We'll bring your son back as soon as we get him cleaned up."
John sunk into a chair. "Yeah. I'm just gonna sit here."
--
"Do you think he looks like a Star?" John looked down at the baby cradled in his arms. He was still all red and squished looking. "Maybe a Robert?"
"Not Robert." Mary reached out for her baby. "Can I hold him again?"
John settled the sleeping baby in her arms. "They won't let us leave until we name him. All kinds of paperwork has to get done."
"Mark?"
"Please." John sighed. "We have to pick something, but not something stupid."
Mary looked thoughtful, "Henry?"
John shook his head. "Never in a million years. We've already discussed this."
"Sammy?" Mary stroked the three hairs her second son had on his head, they were much darker than his brother's had been and they still had that sweaty plastered to the top of his head look.
"Samuel? Really, after Dean?"
Mary glared at him. "I haven't heard anything better from you."
John looked at the baby. "Sammy, Sam, Samuel." He imagined his son's name being called on the first day of Kindergarten, when he walked across the stage at his college graduation, a woman saying it lovingly at his wedding.
"I could live with Sam. But we're not calling him Samuel."
"Unless he gets in trouble." Mary laughed softly. "Baby Sammy. Your brother can't wait to meet you. He's going to be disappointed when you don't play with cat toys though."
--
"Welcome home Sammy." John slid his hand into Mary's now that she had set Sam down in his crib for the first night after the hospital.
Sam opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Dusk was falling and without a light on, the glow in the dark stars painted on the ceiling were slowly becoming visible, twinkling faintly above the crib.
"Do you like the stars?" John whispered, stroking the side of his son's face. "It's a pretty ceiling."
Mary snuggled close to her husband. "Very pretty, someone did an excellent paint job." She looked up at the constellations John had laboured over for weeks, using sky atlases and star guides to try and make sure everything was accurately represented.
"It's our special ceiling. Next thing you know, Dean's going to be asking for one." John led his wife out of the nursery. "Okay, you go to sleep. I'll get up with him tonight, just rest my dear."
Recipient:
amypond45Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoiler Warning: Some references to events in season 7.
Word Count: 1449
Summary: They spent eight months getting ready for a baby who came out a little different than expected.
--
"What are we going to call her?" John's big, grease stained hand covered Mary's still mostly flat abdomen, there was just the faintest hint of a baby bump pressing out against her undershirt.
Mary laughed quietly. "We don't know that she's going to be a girl yet."
"But you think?" John asked, the last time, with Dean, Mary had been certain, she had known and John trusted her.
She nodded slowly. "It feels different than Dean, she feels different."
John's grin widened. "A daughter. I hope she looks like her mother."
Mary covered John's hand with her own and tilted her face up to kiss him. "She'll be into everything, just like her brother."
The quiet of the house washed over them and John's smile shrank. "Speaking of brothers. that boy's been quiet for awhile. I'll go check on him." He pressed a kiss of his wife's belly before heading down the stairs to check on his first child.
--
"Amy?" Mary asked. "Never mind, I don't even like saying that. Amanda? Avery? Ava?"
"What's with all the As?" John asked, stirring a pot on the stove and pulling down plates for his wife to set the table.
Mary blushed. "It's the first page in the Baby Name book."
John laughed. "I'm pretty sure my parents just opened a Bible and pointed to the fist name they saw."
"Hmm."
--
"We're not naming our daughter Mordecai."
"But it was the first name I pointed to!" Mary protested.
"You must have done it wrong." John reached for the ancient looking Bible in his wife's hands. For a moment, her grip tightened on it, but she let it go. It was bound in heavy leather and there was a weird stain on the front.
It turned out the Bible didn't want to name their child. Unless Sodom, Lamb, or Leviathan came into fashion into the next few months, John wasn't going to saddle his beautiful baby girl with a terrible name. He fought Mary hard enough against "Dean", who was named Dean anyway?
--
"I never took you for a Bible thumper." John's boss nodded to the good book in his hands.
John shrugged. "I mentioned something and my wife's fixated on naming our daughter something out of it."
The man snorted. "Mary, right? Would it kill people to be original?"
--
"What do you think?"
Mary sighed. "It's a hippy name."
"It's important in the Bible." John protested. "Besides, we can paint constellations on the ceiling of the nursery, so she'll have something nice to look up to. And when she's thirty and gets her ears pierced, we can buy her little silver ones to match."
"Yes!" Dean piped up from his booster seat, tomato sauce smeared liberally across his face. "I want a pet star."
"Your sister isn't a pet." Mary reminded him. The four year old had fixated on the idea that his baby sister was going to be something like a human kitten, since that was the only baby creature he'd ever seen and nothing his parents said could dissuade him from that notion.
"I'll pet her and feed her and protect her. From predators!" Dean proclaimed, proud of himself for remembering the big word he'd learned when John was reading The Jungle Book to him the night before.
--
"We're really doing this?" Mary looked doubtfully at the ceiling. "I'm letting you name my precious baby girl Star?"
John smiled and dabbed a tiny dot of glow in the dark paint on the ceiling of the nursery. "Yes, come on, she'll love it. And we'll give her a boring middle name, so you don't have to worry."
"Anise?"
John's brown crinkled. "That sounds familiar."
Mary nodded. "Star Anise, I think it's in liquorice or toothpaste. Something like that."
"My baby star." John touched his wife's swollen belly. "She's gonna love it here."
--
They took all of the baby things out of the attic. The changing table, high chair, a half empty box of diapers, receiving blankets, and newborn clothes.
"We're not buying new things for an infant." Mary protested when John dragged her out to a baby store. "A one month old doesn't care if her clothes are pink, blue, or covered in puke."
"But..."
"No." Mary put the tiny pink dress back on the pile. "We need diapers and bottle tops. Don't waste money on silly things."
John looked mournfully back at the tiny pink outfits, but dutifully followed his wife to lug around a massive box of diapers. They'd switch back to cloth once Mary had recovered enough to do all the extra laundry.
--
He hadn't been allowed back when Dean was born and although he would never admit it to his wife, John preferred not having to actively participate and observe the birthing process. There was just something about the blood and the smells and the cries and grunts of pain, he'd never been good with these kinds of things.
The sight of blood made him slightly nauseous and he was never going to forget the smell of placenta. The birthing room reminded him of a war zone, and he'd been deployed.
They'd only been at the hospital for two hours when Mary delivered in the early hours of the morning. An exhausted looking doctor cut the cord after John's hands shook too much to hold the scissors.
"Congratulations on your son." The doctor mustered a sleep deprived smile and left, the curtains swinging closed behind him.
"What?" Mary asked, her hair hanging limp and sweaty into her face.
"Everything is just fine, Mrs. Winchester. You had a healthy baby boy." One of the nurses, the one not holding Star, soothed.
"She's supposed to be a girl." Mary whined, her eyes drooping closed.
The nurse patted her. "Sometimes the doctors get these things wrong."
"No." Mary opened her eyes. "I did a spell."
The nurse looked over at John, but he was as lost as she was. "I think she's just overtired." He smoothed his wife's hair back from her face.
"We can't name a son Star though. Just sleep for now." He whispered to his wife. "We'll sort this out in the morning."
The nurse nodded. "We'll bring your son back as soon as we get him cleaned up."
John sunk into a chair. "Yeah. I'm just gonna sit here."
--
"Do you think he looks like a Star?" John looked down at the baby cradled in his arms. He was still all red and squished looking. "Maybe a Robert?"
"Not Robert." Mary reached out for her baby. "Can I hold him again?"
John settled the sleeping baby in her arms. "They won't let us leave until we name him. All kinds of paperwork has to get done."
"Mark?"
"Please." John sighed. "We have to pick something, but not something stupid."
Mary looked thoughtful, "Henry?"
John shook his head. "Never in a million years. We've already discussed this."
"Sammy?" Mary stroked the three hairs her second son had on his head, they were much darker than his brother's had been and they still had that sweaty plastered to the top of his head look.
"Samuel? Really, after Dean?"
Mary glared at him. "I haven't heard anything better from you."
John looked at the baby. "Sammy, Sam, Samuel." He imagined his son's name being called on the first day of Kindergarten, when he walked across the stage at his college graduation, a woman saying it lovingly at his wedding.
"I could live with Sam. But we're not calling him Samuel."
"Unless he gets in trouble." Mary laughed softly. "Baby Sammy. Your brother can't wait to meet you. He's going to be disappointed when you don't play with cat toys though."
--
"Welcome home Sammy." John slid his hand into Mary's now that she had set Sam down in his crib for the first night after the hospital.
Sam opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Dusk was falling and without a light on, the glow in the dark stars painted on the ceiling were slowly becoming visible, twinkling faintly above the crib.
"Do you like the stars?" John whispered, stroking the side of his son's face. "It's a pretty ceiling."
Mary snuggled close to her husband. "Very pretty, someone did an excellent paint job." She looked up at the constellations John had laboured over for weeks, using sky atlases and star guides to try and make sure everything was accurately represented.
"It's our special ceiling. Next thing you know, Dean's going to be asking for one." John led his wife out of the nursery. "Okay, you go to sleep. I'll get up with him tonight, just rest my dear."
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