More than Magic

[lovestheimpala]

Once upon a time, there was a species of supernatural beings who liked to watch over the ones with deep desires in their hearts. If they were good, they would grant them wishes, and help them on the way to finding true love and happiness.

In the old days, they were so loved and revered that stories would be told of them. But the fairy godmothers, as they were known amongst those who held them dear, grew to be more and more presumptuous about the wishes of their wards. In short, they got cocky and more and more of the granted wishes backfired. It got so bad that people stopped loving them, stopped telling stories about them, and when they finally stopped making wishes to them the species started die out. Without the wishes giving them the power, there was nothing to keep them in existence.

But of course, some stories alive and there was always the occasional wishes dropping in from little children that had yet to stop believing, so a few stayed a live. A handful at first, then only a couple, and finally just the one.

The very last of the fairy godmothers is a mess to behold.

He's fading, there's no doubt of that, and his once gloriously sparkling gown hangs in tatters. His beautiful mane of silver and cream has lost all luster and is falling out by the handfuls. His wings barely function anymore, and he's generally had one too many hits of Mumbo Jamma Juice. Bothering with wishes isn't really a thing anymore. Occasionally, he will come across something that catches his attention enough that he uses the last drops of his power to try to grant it.

Sadly, he rarely gets it right.

Like when he comes across this semi-young hunter with a plethora of the most sore and sad wishes in his scarred and broken heart. The hidden longing for love and family and home, reminds the fairy godmother so much of the princesses he used to cater to thousands of years ago, that he can't resist the need to want to bring just those things to the hunter.

Except, again he gets it wrong. He gets those wishes all garbled up and can't differentiate between love and home and safety, and he thinks the best thing he can do for this one called Dean is to turn his beloved car into a human. And the face the old fairy picks, is the first one he can pluck out of what lies in Dean's heart.

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[james_kirk]

Consciousness is a new thing. It comes with a prickling of the senses, of hard concrete against his new skin, of the acrid-sweet scent of oil-slick, of the occasional rumble of a passing car on the motorway.

He's never been aware of these things like this before.

When he opens his eyes, it's to a flood of neon light that makes him groan and squint, lifting a hand to shield himself from it, but as he gets accustomed to the visual overstimulation, he realizes there's color with such vibrancy that it's startlingly beautiful.

He picks himself up off the ground, knees wobbly and newly-formed legs about as stable as those of a day-old foal, and there is one distinct thought that passes through his head:

He is not a car. He has hands, he has legs, he has ears and eyes and skin. He is human. And it is exciting.

But it's also scary. Oh, so scary. There are so many things he doesn't understand and there's only one person that he trusts to protect him: Dean. He has to find Dean.

He remembers Dean going into the hotel room last night, so he staggers forward and knocks on the door, uneven and clumsy, and leaning heavily against it as he does so because balance is hard.

[lovestheimpala]

Dean's on the hotel bed watching some crappy-shit movie from the analogue days. He's naked, because there's no point in wasting energy to put on clothes when he has to waste even more energy to take them back off when FDR comes back from his restocking mission.

However, when there's a knock on the door, he pulls on some boxers and throws on a robe before going to open it.

He expects a stranger, instead he's staring at... "Frank? When did you change clothes?" Of course that's the first thing he notices only because the guy is so damn peculiar about his looks that it has to mean something that he's not wearing the same thing he wore when he left.

Then he notices the other little things. Hair all weird, and that hazy expression. So his second thought is: "What's wrong, baby?"

[james_kirk]

Frank? Who's Frank? His face scrunches up in confusion and he squints at Dean, but then the man calls him by the right name and everything settles out again and he refocuses his attention on the very important task of not falling off the doorjamb and onto Dean.

Clothes? Why are clothes important? He just blinks owlishly at the human -- at the other human -- and then reaches up to run his fingers over Dean's stubble. Huh. That feels weird.

He ends up laughing a little because it tickles his sensitive fingertips, but then he looks startled that he made such a strange noise and covers his mouth with his hand.

Right. Problems. Scaredness. Can you help, Dean? Baby is human now and doesn't know what to do!

[lovestheimpala]

Shit. He's instantly worried now.

"Seriously, man. What's wrong?" And he moves his arm around FDR's waist so he can guide him over to the bed and help him sit down.

He'll crouch down in front of him and the first thing he does is check the guy's eyes to make sure he's not drugged. Then he starts patting him down for hex bags.

"I can do so much more if you just talk to me."

[james_kirk]

He resists coming into the room at first. He's not allowed in the room! HE'S NOT GONNA FI--oh. He fits. Okay.

He frowns a little at Dean, eyebrows knitting together. Dean wants... talking? Talking is hard. Talking is words that he doesn't really have a great grasp on. Licking at his lower lip, he opens his mouth and takes a breath, but then closes it again.

Alright, one more time. "Scared," he manages to say, voice warbling a little, coming out with a rumble. He's never used it before. It sounds so strange. He's so used to Dean knowing what's wrong with him without him having to actually say anything that this is somewhat distressing.

[lovestheimpala]

Dean looked worried before, with a frown that deepened to match FDR's, but when the agent forces out a single word... and that is the word he chooses to use, all the color vanishes from Dean's face.

The guy he knows would never- NEVER just throw that out there unless things weren't fully and wholly FUBAR. It's a sign, and it's a bad one. It reminds him of that one time when there were tears, and freaking hell, even back then there was no use of the S word.

Now he looks downright terrified as he reaches up to cup FDR's face, and when he speaks, his voice is a little shaky. "You listen to me. I don't know who did what to you but, baby, I swear I'm gonna find out and I'm gonna kill them. I swear. I got you," he says and kisses those cheeks to let him know he doesn't have to be scared. Even if Dean is.

[james_kirk]

That makes Baby feel a lot better. A lot a lot. He smiles a little and wow, Dean's hands are warm. Are humans warm like that? He hadn't really noticed before. It's nice.

Dean's gonna figure this out and Dean always figures things out. He's always fixed Baby when things got rough, so he trusts him with this, too. He rumbles a little, feeling content enough to express it.

Dean will fix it.

[bigvessel]

So there are some...minor issues with kind of...not dating a hunter who's into all sorts of weird supernatural shit. But it's little stuff that he honestly can't say much about since he's just as likely to do something incredibly stupid and life-threatening with his job too. So he deals. It's easy to deal, because the sex is great and the conversations, although weirdly intimate, they're nice.

Yeah. This whole thing. It works. Even if he has to spend an evening here and there in some shit stain hotel that he would never set foot in on his own accord. He can't even recognize the brand of shampoo or conditioner they offer, if they offer any at all, and the toilet paper feels like its still bark, and he's outright dragged Dean out of a place or two when he's seen a cockroach shuffle across the floor. It's tolerable. A lot of things are when Dean is part of the equation.

What's not okay by any stretch of the god damn imagination is walking into the hotel room to see somebody else sitting on the bed with Dean knelt between them and...kissing. Seriously?

He maybe wouldn't mind a threesome under the right circumstances. But these? Are not the right circumstances. Not even fucking close. And he's too god damn pissed to even look at who Dean has on the bed-he really doesn't want to know the man's type other than him.

"What the fuck?!"

[lovestheimpala]

It's both a good thing that Frank smiles at him, and a bad thing. It's good that somehow, in his oddly reduced state, he recognizes Dean enough to find comfort in him, but at the same time... he wants his definitely-NOT-boyfriend back to his normal, asshole self.

And just like that his wish is granted and FDR walks in through the door, and Dean has that moment where he turns to stare at him.

That guy's wearing the right clothes and he's got that shopping bag that was expected- and his reaction sounds right, but then...

"SHIT-" Dean flies back from the guy on the bed and looks back and forth between the both of them. "WHo are you?!" He finally asks the one decked out in shiny black leather.

New thread for... threading purposes

[james_kirk]

It's hours before Baby wakes up again. It's with a disgruntled, unhappy noise of complete grogginess. His face feels wet. His arms feel heavy. He doesn't want to move. He hasn't even opened his eyes yet and he thinks he's moving, but he's pretty sure he's not.

One eye cracks open, blurrily staring at the ceiling above. Definitely not moving. Is he inside? He must be inside. This looks like inside.

It feels so big, like everything is expanding ever outward, but it never seems to get farther away.

And there's an alarming level of discomfort coming from his abdomen. It hurts. He doesn't know what to do about it. Why do his insides ache? "Dean," he murmurs, trying to move from his spot, only to end up making the short drop to the floor with an undignified thud. "Help."

[bigvessel]

When Dean wound up drunkenly passing out in front of his laptop at the kitchen table, FDR had taken the time to lay him down properly in the booth, (Yes, he totally had a built in kitchen table nook in his house complete with an L shaped booth, it's a swanky fucking bachelor pad), tuck a pillow under his head and toss a blanket over him. For someone who spent his whole damn life fighting things that went bump in the night, he was way too heavy of a sleeper for his own good.

Then he spent the rest of the night keeping one eye on Baby and the rest focused on his latest game of GTA.

Which he was still dazedly playing when Baby shuffled behind him, and he turned to watch him roll right off the couch in a tangle of blankets.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he paused the game and moved over to Baby where he held out a hand for him. "Dean's sleeping. And if you care about him, you'll let him."

[james_kirk]

Baby looks up at Assbu-- er. Frank. He frowns a little, but reaches up to take the man's hand so he can get himself upright without falling over again, or tripping in the blankets, or hurting more.

Dean is sleeping? He can live with that. Dean needs sleep. But what happened that Baby ended up sleeping, too? Did somebody turn off his eng-- ASSBUTT DID IT.

The memory comes flooding back and Baby growls at Assbutt. "What did you do!? Why do I hurt?!" Obviously, that's all Assbutt's fault. And oh, does it hurt.

He cups his hands over his groin and dances around a bit. This is not nice at all!

[bigvessel]

He arches a tired eyebrow at the sudden accusations and the accompanying growl. "Oh come on, Dean broke your fall, you can't be that-"

Wait. He recognizes that dance. It's been years since he's seen it, but he can remember Joe bouncing around like that and his face scrunches up. "Come on." And he keeps a hold of Baby's hand because it's just habit when dragging a kid to the bathroom.

So he pulls Baby down his hallway toward the guest bathroom and then he stops. Okay. This part is kind of new and he glances back at Baby. "Please tell me you know how to use the toilet?"

[james_kirk]

"What?" He scrunches his face up, looking at the weird bowl filled with water, and his belly makes a very uncomfortable feeling and he presses his legs together more tightly. "What is this?"

Is it magic? Baby knows a little bit about magic. Magic usually makes things worse, though, and he doesn't see how this bowl is going to help him if it's not magic. Especially since he'd have to bend so far down to drink out of it and he doesn't see how he can do that right now without hurting lots and lots.

[bigvessel]

Yeah. This just keeps getting worse. And of course Dean is in a drunken stupor when he should be here taking care of this crap.

"Okay. Look. You need to take a leak. Come on, I'm sure Dean pissed out in the woods next to his car at some point. Just...just, let me- do the thing. Okay." And he pushed Baby in front of the toilet before reaching around him and unzipping his pants. There was an eerie moment of deja vu because he knew what it looked like to look down at his cock from this angle, and that's exactly what he was seeing right now.

"Okay, you just grab pull your dick-uh this...hose out, and point it at the bowel and just...let it happen, man."

[james_kirk]

Baby is not happy about this, but he lets Assbutt manoeuver him around to stand in front of the 'toilet'. He looks down at it, and then promptly startles when the other man goes to touch him where it hurts.

He shifts, deciding whether or not to attack, but he decides not to, simply because he wants the hurt to go away and Assbutt claims to know how that will happen.

But the instructions aren't quite clear. "Hose?" He looks down. He's supposed to pull a hose through the hole there? Reaching into his pants as if he's searching for nothing more interesting than a socket wrench, he finds the 'hose' and pulls it out. "Oh!"

Look at that.

He's just about to ask what Assbutt meant by 'let it happen', but then something relaxes inside him and liquid comes pouring out of the hose, accompanied by a distinct feeling of relief.

"Goooooooooood," he moans. This is exactly what he needs.

[bigvessel]

He rolls his eyes and leans against the bathroom counter, a little concerned to leave the thing alone in his bathroom. Even if it's the guest bathroom. He might drown himself in the toilet bowl or drink the windex under the sink. And he has a brief thought about baby-proofing before reminding himself that this is not going to be a long term thing. Dean will figure it out and shit can go back to normal.

"Just. Let me know when you're done." Because he's totally not watching.

[james_kirk]

No, nothing's broken. Not even Baby. He's just looked at things and smelled some things and touched some things, and given the way Frank freaked out at him earlier with the drainage hose, he doesn't want to mess too much with Frank's stuff, so he's sort of/kind of has put it all back where he found it. Mostly.

He's completely naked, the towel having gone to the floor, and he looks up when Dean returns, a bright smile on his face. "I missed you," he says and means it. Having a whole new body is still kind of scary and Dean makes him feel safe again.

[lovestheimpala]

It's a bad thing that he's greeted with that ass and that smile... and that earnest statement. It warms him up inside, and he smiles back.

"Brought you some fresh clothes. You can't walk around naked. It's... distracting."

[james_kirk]

"It is?" He tips his head to the side, wondering why it would be a problem. It's just a tarp. He goes around without his tarp all -- oh, right. Human.

"Where do clothes come from?"

[lovestheimpala]

"We make them so we don't get cold. And people generally don't appreciate you swingin' your dick in their faces, either. Better make sure you've got that on before you leave the house at least."

And he's not gonna admit to anyone that he opens up those sweats and crouches down so Baby can just step into the pants.

[james_kirk]

"Dick?" He remembers Dick. He wasn't a nice man. Why would he be swin-- no, wait. There's another meaning of dick. Baby squints, focusing hard on it as he lifts one foot and then the other to step into the holes of the sweats.

OH. Dick. The thing Dean thinks with. That still doesn't make sense, though, so he just looks confused. "What's a dick?"

[lovestheimpala]

"It's that massive thing between your legs. Have fun learning to control it," Dean says with a snort as he stands up and pulls those pants up to cover up said dick.

[james_kirk]

"The drainage hose?" Oh, that makes more sense now. It does seem prone to swinging around loosely. Maybe that's why pants were invented.

He wriggles his hips to help Dean get the sweats up and over them, and then he smiles. "What now?"

[lovestheimpala]

"Now the shirt," he says and does his best to help get the t shirt on him and teach him how to do it himself. He's not gonna spend twice a day dressing and undressing him.

"Then we're going out. We've got some people to talk to, and some shopping to do." And his smirk indicates that he's got a plan.