Chapter Text
The washing machine in the bunker had a terrible habit of being loud as hell, especially if it needed to run after hours, Sam learned. At least if he kicked it hard enough, the stupid thing quieted down, and he didn’t have to worry so much about waking Dean. After all, sitting up in the laundry room washing his bedsheets after a nightmare left them wet and cold wasn’t exactly the way Sam wanted Dean to find him.
This had been a problem for far too long in Sam’s life, and he knew it. As a kid, he wet the bed often enough for Dean to refuse to sleep beside him and for John to, exasperated and annoyed, suggest protection. Diapers, if you asked Dean and he replied with that smug grin that Sam wanted to slap so many times. Sam usually didn’t call them anything, just tried to think of them as part of his pajamas for the night.
By the time he was a preteen, though, Sam thankfully outgrew the habit. One or two nights a year of waking up with wet sheets post-nightmare was nothing, so he stopped wearing the protection proudly, and he moved on with his life. Throughout his teen years, everything stayed dry, and into college he had no issues. At least…until Dean came to get him. Then the nightmares came back, and one too many times so did the damp sheets.
It frustrated him to no end, really, to have this problem come back after a decade without it. Hot tears stung his eyes after the third night in a row that Sam had to smuggle dirty sheets out of the motel room without waking Dean and beg the receptionist to let him just make the bed himself. It was humiliating, standing on the tiled floor where a deafeningly loud pitter patter could be heard from leaking sheets. Sam’s own pajama pants were cold, though he covered them with the blankets until the receptionist with dark lipstick and at least ten piercings—a total badass who now knew Sam was a baby—brought him new sheets.
That memory stayed with him, for some reason. Sam hated it, hated how vulnerable and fragile he felt that night when there were worse nights to sear into his brain. Maybe the reason it stuck, though, was because the next morning he took himself to the nearest CVS, ashamed and mortified, and bought a pack of incontinence underwear. Really, they picked the worst names possible for this shit. He buried the package under candy bars, protein snacks, granola, and some stuff to restock their first-aid kit, and thankfully the cashier didn’t say a word.
He used them that night, though, and…it felt better. Safe, if Sam had to pick a word. Mortifying, sure, but safe. More embarrassing than the need for what was essentially a pullup was that Sam, at his big age of 22, liked how the diaper felt. If his seven-year-old self knew that, he was sure the kid would pick a fight with him, but Sam couldn’t shake the feeling of safety, even when he woke up in the morning with a soggy bottom.
Thankfully, the nightly accidents had a tendency to come in waves, Sam learned over the years. He could go months without a single accident, and those times he didn’t wear the diapers. Then all of a sudden he’d wet the bed one night, and for three weeks straight he’d wake up wet. Usually during those weeks, Sam noticed over time how he felt…more sensitive, he supposed was the right word. He cried more easily, he couldn’t shut off his motor-mouth, and many times Sam woke up with his thumb in his mouth or blankets bundled up to his chest, cuddled in his arms. He didn’t know what the connection was, but he supposed there had to be something unsavory to tie all this together.
Sam was just glad that, even years later, Dean didn’t know. Not once had he caught Sam with a package of Depends. Not once had he seen Sam sucking his thumb. Not once did he question it when Sam cried quite literally over spilled milk. Sam was eternally grateful for that fact, even when keeping this secret meant kicking the washing machine again—maybe they needed to open the stupid thing up and see if they could fix it.
Once the washing machine settled back down, Sam grabbed his laptop from where it sat on the counter beside the sink. He pulled up incognito mode, and he checked the doorway one more time just to make sure Dean didn’t magically appear, before he made his search.
Extra absorbent adult diapers
See, the problem at this point was that even when Sam prepared and wore his stupid, nice protection, he still…leaked. Sometimes very badly. Sometimes to the point where he thought the damn incontinence underwear actually didn’t do a damn thing. He tried everything in the drugstore, but when he found one that actually worked, suddenly it seemed like everyone in Kansas discovered these magical diapers so that the next time Sam needed them, they were out of stock. So, Sam took to the internet.
…
………
Why did half of these website look like they were designed for babies? Mermaids, jungles, astronauts, princesses? Why did these adult diapers look like baby ones?
Sam clicked through the links just out of morbid curiosity, ignoring the plain white diaper listings in favor of one with zoo animals on it and—oh. There were matching pacifiers, bottles, bibs—
Sam shut his laptop quickly just as the washing machine settled to a stop. His face burned hot, and he moved nearly robotically to the washer to throw his sheets into the dryer.
…There was no way that he wanted anything like that. Why would he? Why did anyone even make those an option? Surely no one really wanted anything like that, right? Right.
He closed the dryer door as quietly as he could manage, and he twisted the dial around to start the machine. As the dryer thumped to life, Sam took his laptop once more and sat down on the floor. He opened it back up and winced at the sight of babyish diapers and pacifiers on his screen. He backed out of the website and instead went to purchase one of the plain white options.
Sam ignored that the website he bought from had a pacifier in its logo.
The box arrived at their PO Box about a week later, and Sam jumped up to grab his boots the moment he got the notification. Dean gave him a confused look as he came back in with shoes in hand, so Sam tried to play it off as well as he could while he laced his boots.
“Since there’s no cases right now, I’m gonna head out and check the mail, do some errands, all that,” he said. He got to his feet and stuffed his wallet and phone in his pocket.
“You have fun with that,” Dean said, tipping his beer to him. “Meanwhile, I’m gonna watch TV until my brains rot out or a new apocalypse tries to start, whichever happens first.”
Sam gave him a little nod as he headed toward the stairs. He didn’t need to ask anymore questions, he just needed to pretend that everything was normal about this trip.
“Make sure you get Captain Crunch!” Dean shouted after him. “None of that Kashi bullcrap, we need real cereal, Sammy!”
“Got it!” Sam said over his shoulder just to appease his brother. He took the car and headed out to the post office first, praying for discreet packaging. Sam breathed a sigh of relief when the only hint as to the contents of the box was the name of the company on the shipping label. He tossed box into the backseat and made his way to the grocery store, then, since he did tell Dean he was shopping. He got the cereal, coffee, beer, and some healthier options for their dinners. Cauliflower pizza sounded good, so he plopped a couple in his buggy, then he grabbed a bag of plant-based “chicken” nuggets just to see if he could convince Dean that these were just as good as the normal ones. Maybe then his brother would eat a vegetable.
Sam made his way through the store at a meandering pace. It wasn’t often that he just explored—of course, it was even less often that he got to shop without Dean hurrying him along toward the bakery or the checkout. So, Sam just let himself wander around the store, looking through books, puzzles, electronics, and…
…Baby stuff, apparently.
Just leave, just leave, just go, Sam thought to himself. He gripped the handlebar of the buggy tightly in his fists, but rather than back out of the aisle, Sam pushed forward.
Bottles, pacifiers, formula, toys… Sam’s head spun as he took in every pastel- or primary-colored baby thing through the aisle. He didn’t even realize that a pack of pacifiers ended up in his hand until he added it to the buggy, and Sam yelped as he grabbed it again.
The package had two different pacifiers, one blue and one green. The blue one had a little moon on the center button while the green had stars. They were cute, Sam thought, but he didn’t need them. He wasn’t a baby. Just because he needed diapers didn’t mean he was a baby.
Sam put them back in the buggy and made his way to the checkout.
He packed up the bags into the car and made his way back to the bunker, which just meant his job got harder. He needed to somehow get this stuff inside without Dean seeing, and Sam didn’t know if that was possible. Why was he this stupid? Why did he think this was a good idea? He was an idiot. He was the dumbest person alive, and he was going to get in so much trouble if Dean saw—
Why would he be in trouble?
Sam took his jacket off and wrapped it around the box, tucking it under his arm so he could gather up the bags and go inside. He hurried inside, and when he didn’t see Dean in the kitchen, he abandoned the bags on the counter and ran for his room. But, halfway there, he cursed under his breath and ran back to the kitchen where Dean stood digging through the bags.
“Dean!” Sam yelped in surprise.
“I see you remembered the Captain Crunch, good on you, Sammy!” Dean said, happy as he stuck the box in the cabinet with the rest of the junk.
“Uh, yeah…” Sam scooted closer to the bags just as Dean came back over and grabbed out the coffee.
“Oh, good, you got the dark stuff,” Dean grumbled under his breath, chuckling to himself as he turned around and put the coffee away. Sam spotted the pacifiers, and he quickly grabbed them out of their bag and stuffed them in his back pocket. “Hey, what else do you have, Sammy?” Dean asked, spinning around to see Sam.
“What?”
“The box,” Dean said, pointing.
“Oh, this,” Sam said dumbly, shuffling where he stood. What did he say? How could he explain this without telling Dean the truth? “It’s, um…just needed clothes,” he said, patting the box.
“You? Seriously?” Dean scoffed. “Hope it ain’t jeans. You’re too damn tall not to get stuff in person.”
“I’ve got time to return them if need be,” Sam said. “In fact, I’ll go try everything on right now!” He spun around and high-tailed it toward his room. He slammed the door shut and tossed the box and pacifiers on the bed.
This was so stupid. What was he doing? The normal Depends did well enough, and this didn’t happen often enough to go through this.
Sam cut the tape open, and the package of much thicker diapers stared back at him. This was a terrible idea. He shoved the box off the bed and grabbed the package of pacifiers. Seriously—why did he make such terrible decisions? What did he even need these for? He didn’t need pacifiers.
…But if he bought them, he might as well open them, right? Right.
He tore open the package and pulled out the green pacifier. It looked so small in his hand, but it looked…inviting? No, no, that sounded stupid. But, if it seemed…nice…maybe he needed to try it? He sucked his thumb, after all, so maybe this would be a good alternative?
Sam took a deep breath, and he stuck the pacifier in his mouth. It was small, but nice? Sam gave a few test sucks to it, and the shield tightened around his mouth. He furrowed his brows in concentration, deciding if he liked it, and he sat back against the pillows. He looked to his side where his pillow laid haphazardly, and he scooped it up to hold it against his chest. Sam suckled the pacifier, and he slipped further down the bed until he laid down with the pillow cuddled against his chest.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad… Maybe the pacifier was a good idea.
He looked down at the box of diapers, and Sam wondered if he had a good idea there, too. He hopped to his feet and picked up the box, tearing open the plastic so he could take out one of the diapers. Unfolding it curiously, Sam noticed it was definitely not like he was used to. Rather than being a pullup, this had tapes on the sides and needed to be…fastened.
It took a few minutes of fiddling, and Sam was glad that Dean hadn’t gotten too nosy. Why was he doing this, anyway? It wasn’t even bedtime yet. Sam sucked his pacifier tighter against his face in concentration, and he finished taping on the diaper.
…Oh it felt cozy. It felt much cozier than his usual diapers. This was soft, plush, and snug on his belly and legs. He pulled his sweatpants on over it, and Sam giggled as he laid back down in bed. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted…well, Sam kind of wanted cuddles. Why did he want cuddles? Well, because cuddles were nice, obviously. He wondered if Dean would give him a hug. He used to hug Sammy all the time, and mess with his hair, and—and why was Sam stood in front of his door?
Why was Sam’s hand on the door handle?
Shit.
Sam scrambled back to his bed and threw his blankets over his head. He couldn’t leave his room. He couldn’t, or else he would be in so much trouble. Dean would be so mad…
He put his paci back in his mouth when it fell out to his lap, and Sam laid down. Maybe he just needed to take a nap so that he didn’t get in trouble…