#if you die of fluff blame beka

[idreamofhazel]

Homesick Part Two: Homecoming

Read part one here.

Summary: You weren’t able to spend Valentine’s day with Sam, but you both make up for it by getting each other the best gift. 

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

A special thank you to @impala-dreamer for looking it over and giving me some fluffy ideas! You’re the best!!!

Sam and Dean were gone for two more days than expected, causing Sam’s homesickness to grow exponentially and your anticipation to build excruciatingly. This was the hardest secret you’d ever had to keep. The urge to call Sam and release it, to hear the happiness in his voice while he shared it with Dean, was almost unbearable. What kept you from telling him over the phone was the desire to also see his reaction, not only hear it.

Their extended trip also put Sam’s returning date a day after Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s day was nothing to a hunter, really; only masochistic ones would put themselves through the pain of romance, celebrating the civilian holiday while omnipresent threats loomed over their heads. But you and Sam were different. You always did a little something for each other on this holiday, like a box of chocolates to share, but this year it seemed that nothing would happen. And it upset you, far more than you thought it would.

Your mood plummeted instantly when you received the text, throwing you into the pit of Valentine’s day despair usually reserved for forever-alone people. Hormones were most likely to blame and you found yourself wanting only to curl up under a blanket and listen to sappy love songs while single-handedly eating a tub of ice cream. So that’s exactly what you did. And that’s what you were doing when you got the first text, at ten thirty in the morning, from Sam.

“When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.”

You grinned uncontrollably despite yourself, huddled under the covers, the phone screen lighting up your pity-party tent.

“Shakespeare, really? ;)” you sent back.

“Only because it’s true. There’s more coming :)”

You could do nothing but shake your head, your cheek muscles aching because of the size of your smile. There had been no real reason to doubt Sam. He always came through, able to find a way to make the best out of any situation, and now because of his messages, your mood lifted and you felt like getting out of bed.

Then he sent another message. “I also got you a little something. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t. I can’t wait to see it. I got you something too.”

Sam had just created the perfect opportunity for you to share the big news with him. He would give you your gift, and then you could deliver yours in a message, as if it were a regular gift exchange. Your gift would blow him away, though. Even if he had somehow managed to fully participate in the commercialism of the holiday by getting you a piece of jewelry or a bouquet of roses, he would be the speechless one.

The best way to deliver the message would be through a card, so you went to the store, clad in sweatpants and a jacket, taking full advantage of your pregnant status. At the small convenience store in Lebanon, you went straight for the card section where you received another text.

“I still fall in love with you everyday.”

It was another cheesy love quote, but you didn’t mind. They were making your heart soar while you looked for the right card. You needed something sweet, but simple, with some blank space to write in your personal message.

Choosing a card was difficult. You had forgotten how droning it could be to look over so many cards of varying colors and designs, all with similar messages tweaked for so-called variety. Maybe this was a wash. Maybe you were better off buying construction paper and making your own like a twelve year old girl.

“Last minute shopping?” asked a woman who suddenly appeared beside you, her eyes roaming more over the cards than looking at you. She wore a warm smile and matching sweater, forest green and knitted.

“Yeah, just searching for the right one,” you trailed off, returning your attention back to the cards.

“I used to consider myself somewhat of a card expert,” she continued, “I used to make them myself. You have something particular in mind?”

Her readiness to open up to you and help caught you off guard at first, until you gave her the hunter’s once over and realized she was as civilian as civilian could be. It wouldn’t hurt to have some help, so you took her up on the offer.

“Well, I have some news to deliver with the card.” You patted your stomach and her face lit up as she caught on.

“Oh congratulations!” she beamed, then hummed and tapped her chin while she searched the cards. “How about this one?”

She picked a card out of the plastic slots and held it out as your phone buzzed again. There’s a million things I could say to you… the outside of the card read.

“This one’s all me. I can’t wait to see you again. I’m counting down the hours, honestly. I miss you so much when we’re apart. I’ve never felt this way before. You’re special, not just to me. You’re amazing. I can’t even describe it. I can only say I love you.”

“P.S. Dean yelled at me because I took forever to type that message. ;)”

When you finished reading Sam’s most recent text, you cried uncontrollably, right in the middle of the card aisle. It didn’t matter that you wanted to stop. You couldn’t.

The helpful woman was alarmed, rightfully so, and moved to comfort you. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

You wiped your runny nose with your sleeve, beautifully and with all the grace expected of a woman in your state. “Y-yes, I’m fine, I just, he sent me a text and the card, he’s been sending me messages since he’s gone. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Oh, honey, here.” She dug inside her purse until she found some tissues, which she shoved into your hand. “It’s the hormones. Don’t worry, it’s totally normal. Does the card work?”

You opened it up. But only one that says it all perfectly. I love you. Always. You began nodding quickly.

“I thought you could, you know, add it in there.”

“Yeah, the message, yeah. It’s perfect.” You sniffled and patted your eyes dry with one of the tissues. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome. I hope he loves it!”

A few hundred miles away, Sam was still sitting in a motel room with Dean, pouring all of his attention into his notes, lest Dean yell at him again. He awaited the reply to his latest message, to see if you were tired of the cliche gestures yet, but it didn’t appear as if you were. His phone went off and he quickly read your response.

“I bet he did. But he’s just going to have to deal with it. I love you too Sam, more than anything. Come home quickly <3”

If only you knew how quickly he wanted to come home. His gift was waiting, tucked discreetly into the corner of his duffle, wrapped professionally by an employee at the store. He was nervous to give it to you. It was unconventional, to say the least, and he wondered if it would be too much. But he had already bought it, it was something that was important to him, and he believed it to be important to you, too. It would be the culmination of your combined love; a symbol and a gesture that said, this is it, that decided to forget about the worries and concerns of the future. It was about time, Sam thought, to throw a bit of caution to the wind and make something of this love you had for each other. So that’s why he didn’t return the gift, instead concerning himself with how to give it to you.

Back at the bunker, you sat at a library table, pen in hand, tapping it rapidly as you stared at the inside of the card. Under the printed message was plenty of blank space. You could write a paragraph, or keep it simple with only a sentence. There were so many ways to say it, some of them cute, some of them lame--so lame you scrunched your nose at yourself, wondering where in the world those ideas came from. The answer was hormones. You blamed it all on the hormones until you finally grew tired of stressing and instead, began writing what came to mind.

Actually, there’s one more thing I can say, one more thing I can add to this card, because one more thing is being added to this family.

You didn’t add anything more, except a heart. Sam was smart. He would catch on.

Sam had at least twenty-four more hours until he was home, back at the bunker and with you. He and Dean were staking out a home, waiting for the creature to appear. He was terribly distracted, playing out different scenarios of the gift-giving moment in his head, some of them where you were elated, some where you were unsure, and some where he had to explain the gift. Those were the worst scenarios, but he knew you were smart. You would know what the present meant as soon as you opened it. He was getting hung up on the other negative scenarios, though, so much so that Dean had to wave his hands in front of Sam’s face and repeat a question. He needed to focus. He could worry about these scenes on the way home.

Fast forward through those twenty-four hours, through your equally-obsessive planning on how to deliver the card, through another mood swing, and through an unexpected mad dash of cleaning, you got a text from Sam that said they were an hour out. You grabbed dinner and the card, placing them both on the war room table. Then you sat down, right where Sam could see you as he walked in. Or maybe you should be in your room, so it wasn’t so obvious. Or maybe the kitchen, like you had been busy with dinner. Or maybe it didn’t matter and you should stop worrying about it and just wait. Ten more minutes.

Panic started to set in during the silence; all of the reasons why this wouldn’t work popping up out of nowhere and cramming your imagination with horrible visions, visions of Sam becoming upset, of Dean agreeing that it wouldn’t work. Of you having to leave, raising this baby on your own.

Just then you heard the creaking of the metal door opening and footsteps on the metal staircase, the sound of Sam and Dean’s voices carrying over their stomps. You chest rose and fell with one deep breath and then you got up from the chair, looking up as the descended the stairs. They looked good, not too beat up, thankfully. This had been an easy case for them.

“Hey,” Dean said, giving you a quick hug before walking towards the hall, “I’m forbidding you from staying behind again. Lover boy here was a huge sap the whole time.”

You smiled, not being able to say anything while Dean walked to his room. Then you laid eyes on Sam. He was happy to see you, but there was nervousness under the surface. He dropped his bags on the floor and set a small square box on the war room table. Your eyes followed it, wondering what was inside.

“I wasn’t that bad, really,” he said, stepping towards you and pulling you into a hug.

“Never,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“How are you? Were you sick?” He pulled back and looked you over.

“No, I guess I just needed the extra rest. So, when do I get to see what’s in that box?”

He uncharacteristically began fumbling with anxiety, his gaze falling to his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, any time I guess. But, do, do you want to go first?”

You laughed nervously in turn, shaking your head. “No, I think you should go first.”

“Ok.” He spun around too quickly, grabbing the box and almost shoving it at you, using an unneeded amount of force in his actions. You could see a bit of sweat on his brow and his smile was strained. The box was far too big to be an engagement ring. You ruled out a proposal, so you had no idea what could be inside. You began tugging at the red ribbon tied around the box, perfectly like you saw in movies, done up nicely in a shop. “It’s a little different. You can be honest about it,” he added, an almost undetectable shake in his voice.

You ignored his comments, knowing how self-doubting he could be. Whatever it was, you were sure to love it. He never went wrong with gifts, or with anything really. The ribbon untied easily and you let it fall to the floor as you pulled open the top and gasped. Inside laid a neatly folded flannel shirt, tiny, definitely made for a baby, and a pair of the smallest boots you had ever seen, sitting right on top. All you could do was cry, with happiness and with love, because without even knowing, Sam had been desiring the exact thing you were about to give him.

“I, it’s ok if you don’t like it,” Sam began, but you couldn’t find the words to stop him yet, “I’ve been meaning to, you know, talk about this with you, but then I saw those and I just had this idea and, this was stupid. I know. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you like this, I’m-”

“Dammit, Sam, would you be quiet for five seconds so I can talk? Just read this!” you grabbed your card and shoved it at him, barely being able to see where it should go through the tears in your eyes. You couldn’t stop crying.

You watched through blurry vision as he tore open the envelope and slipped the card out, waiting expectantly as he read the front then opened it. You could see exactly when he read your note. And exactly when he realized what it meant. Tears welled in his eyes as looked up at you, all trace of nervousness gone, replaced by awe and love. You nodded, neither of you able to speak, before he lunged forward almost violently, card still in hand as he grabbed your arms, pulling you into him tightly and crashing his lips into yours.

You stood that way for a seemingly endless amount of time, your hands gripping the box between you tightly, Sam’s fingers pressing into your forearms, both of you amazed that your lives were so fortunate.

The moment was perfect, even as you pulled apart and gazed into each other’s eyes, relishing the moment until Dean walked in, searching for dinner.

He looked at the both of you, tears stains on your cheeks and clutching each other almost desperately, and became confused.

“Did I miss something?”

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