Fic: You Can't Name a Baby Trgiaob
Mar. 11th, 2010 02:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunspotTitle: You Can't Name a Baby 'Trgiaob'
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: not really any
Rating: 13+
Word Count: ~4,700
Warnings: Mpreg, some language, an actual birth, some sap, references to slash.
Summary: 'But Dean was sober and alive, and no matter what else he said or thought, Castiel was still pregnant, and he and Sam apparently had to just deal with it.'
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Oh. My gods. This was a long time coming and for that I sincerely apologize. This one is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tangodoodles as the winner of my ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_haiti fic. Hopefully it fulfills all your hopes and dreams, dear. Also requested by sparrowshellcat. It was amazing to me how many people wanted mpreg. Also a huge thank you to epiphanyx7 who beta'd this, listened to all my of whining and linked me to the angel name site.
It had been a very rough four months on all of them before Dean finally snapped. “Dammit, Cas, what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been moody and unbearable for months now. You’re getting on my very last nerve, and I’m the one with the gun.”
Castiel turned to face the wall and didn’t say anything at all.
“Um, Cas? Are you crying?” Sam hazarded the question after a few tense moments.
“No!” Castiel lied. It was clear that he was. “I'm sorry, Dean, I guess the last few months have been rather difficult on me. I didn’t realize I was taking it out on you and Sam.”
“Well, you have been. What the hell is up with you, anyways?”
Castiel turned around again and watched them for a few moments, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes with a magically appearing handkerchief. Dean was cleaning his gun on the bed and Sam was on the floor, leaning against the tv stand and looking concernedly back at him. “I have been instructed not to talk about it.” Castiel replied solemnly.
“That’s bullshit, Cas,” Dean said, setting his gun down. “Now I know we’re all manly men and manly angels around here, but if something big is happening, something big enough to make you twitchy and mood swingy and crying... then I think we need to - talk about it.”
This was obviously painful for Dean to say, and Castiel appreciated that the elder Winchester was willing to break his No Chick Flick Moments policy for Castiel. The angel could feel himself tearing up in gratitude. The Winchesters were so wonderful.
"I am..." Castiel said, hesitantly. “I’m pregnant.”
“No, I mean it, Castiel, I think you just need to tell us what’s going on so we can help you.”
“I just told you.”
“What?” Dean’s expression changed comically. “No, you said ‘It’s not your concern, Dean’. That’s what you always say.”
Castiel sighed theatrically and turned to speak to Sam. “I have no idea how you put up with him all these years. I would have long ago delivered to him the Mighty Wrath of My Father. Or shot him.”
“I have,” Sam said dryly. “It just makes him worse.”
Castiel huffed impatiently.
“Dean. Sam. I am pregnant.”
"No you're not," Dean said, very loudly. “You’re a ... dude. You, him, that... that body. You can’t have a baby.”
Castiel covered his midsection protectively. “I am an Angel of the Lord,” he reminded Dean haughtily. “I’d thank you to keep your labels off my body.”
“But it’s not your body!” Dean exploded. He tossed his gun on the bed and stalked towards the bathroom.
Sam stood up shakily, watching Castiel closely. “You’re really serious?”
Castiel nodded. His eyes were large and sad and starting to get even larger, and sadder, like something out of a cartoon. Sam felt an overwhelming need to hug him, or pet his hair, or give him things, or just protect the heck out of him.
“Oh. Okay. Um... Do you need anything?”
“Stop encouraging him, Sam!” Dean shouted from behind the bathroom door.
Castiel smiled. “Thank you, Sam, but no.”
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, still watching Castiel carefully.
Cautiously sitting next to him, Castiel sighed wistfully. “You have questions,” he intoned.
“There’s only one question,” Dean said, stomping out of the bathroom. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Castiel turned away and faced the wall again. His shoulders did not shake at all, and yet everybody in the room knew that Castiel was crying big, fat, salty tears of deep emotional upset.
“Jeezy Creezy,” Dean growled. He was getting much better at minding his religious toned swears in front of the angel, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to express his frustration. “Castiel, don’t cry. I’m just... I’m going to have to see it to believe it.”
“Did my Father’s Son not say ‘Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed’?” Castiel asked, hastily rubbing sleeve across his face, eliminating a few stray tears. “You have to have faith, Dean.”
“Alright,” said Dean. “If you’re pregnant, the who is the father?” The challenge was evident in his voice.
“I am!” said a firm, familiar voice from the doorway.
Dean fell over dead.
Okay, he wasn’t dead. But he did fall over. And when Bobby wheeled over and flicked him between the eyes, he fervently wished he was dead.
“How is this happening?” Dean moaned. “This is unreal.”
“Dean, we fight monsters for a living. Nothing should be unreal to us.” There was a helpful tone in Sam’s voice, but Dean found it mostly annoying.
There was a sick feeling curling in Dean’s insides. “Why is Bobby the father of your baby?”
“Is it so hard to believe a man and an angel can’t fall deeply in love and want to have a life together and share the joy of parenthood, you great idjit?” Bobby shot back, indignantly rolling over Dean’s foot in his wheelchair.
Dean gaped.
“Nah, I’m just fucking with you,” he said, straightening his ball cap. “We’re just friends.” He tilted his chin up at Castiel, the very picture of cool. Castiel responded in kind.
“A hunter is the perfect father to the baby of an angel. The baby will have the strength, both physically and mentally, to stand against the armies of Hell and hunt the evil that lurks in this world, and the grace and inner tranquility that comes from being the offspring of an angel will help the child spiritually and emotionally with those same things.”
Dean and Sam both glanced around a bit, looking for the teleprompter or cue cards that Castiel had been reading off of.
“So, did Heaven put you up to this?”
Castiel frowned. “Dean, what I’m doing is an honour and a joy. Don’t sully this.”
Dean looked at his shoes. “I... I’m sorry.” He looked back up at Castiel with an attempted smile. It faltered and faded. “I’m sorry!” he said again, louder and more vehemently. He ran into the bathroom for the second time that morning and slammed the door behind him.
Bobby wheeled over to Cas and patted his arm a little awkwardly. “He’s just acting out because he wants to be the only child. It’s textbook.” Castiel nodded, somewhat mollified. “He’ll come around. Just wait until he holds that baby in his arms. He’ll forget he was ever upset the moment he becomes a big brother.”
“...I hate you,” Sam hissed. But no one listened because no one ever really listens to what Sam has to say.
“Castiel?” Dean was peeking from around the bathroom door. “I am having a really hard time believing any of this is really happening. Maybe it’s another Trickster joke. Or I’m drunk. Or high. Or dead.” He brightened up noticeably. "Hey, I could be dead!"
But Dean was sober and alive, and no matter what else he said or thought, Castiel was still pregnant, and he and Sam apparently had to just deal with it.
-
Three weeks later, at a tacky 50’s themed motel outside Tucson, Arizona, Dean was going crazy. Crazier, anyways. Sam had been acting weird around Castiel since they’d heard the news and it was wearing heavily on Dean’s nerves.
“Hungry?” Sam asked, closing his laptop and standing up from the small table. Dean glanced up to say yes, but Sam wasn't paying any attention to him and was instead looking at Castiel.
“For the love of-! Sam.”
“Yes, thank you, Samuel,” Castiel said quietly.
Sam smiled, looking a little sheepish. “No problem. I’ll uh. Be back in a few.” He looked pointedly at Dean until Dean groaned and forked over the keys to the car.
“So,” Dean said, waiting until the door closed behind Sam.
Castiel looked up from his book. “Yes?”
“I’m not okay with this,” he said, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of bed near Cas. He reached out, like he was going to touch the angel, but stopped short, his hands just sort of hovering in the air. “It’s weird and unnatural and the idea of Bobby raising children terrifies me.”
Castiel cleared his throat and gave Dean 'A Look'. “I will be doing most the child rearing, Dean. Bobby is just in it for the genetic material.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, suddenly remembering something else. “What’s up with that? You said you picked Bobby because he’s a hunter. You know there’s like... more hunters than just Bobby.”
“Ellen threatened me with a gun when I asked.” Castiel informed him primly. He crossed his arms over his stomach.
Dean snorted. “I believe that. But... whatever. I just can’t get over Bobby...”
“You want to know why I didn’t ask you.” Castiel said, tilting his head to the side as he stared deep into the depths of Dean's soul, or maybe at the wallpaper over Dean's shoulder.
It was stupid and obvious, Dean knew, but it was the biggest question in his mind these days. Bigger even than ‘when did Sam become an overprotective, mothering, girly man?’ and ‘but where is the baby going to come out of?’
“Dean...” Castiel looked at his hands. “With everything you’re going through right now, with the apocalypse and Michael and your issues with Sam and that mole on your-” he struggled for the right word and made a feeble hand gesture. “On your bottom,” he finally managed. “With everything going on, I didn’t think you’d even want to hear it.”
Dean’s hand had still been fluttering uselessly in the air, but when Castiel looked back down at his lap, expression halfway between Cas-Standard-Blank and Ashamed, Dean reached out and laid his palm flat across Castiel’s belly. The bump was barely noticeable, but Dean was half-convinced he would blink one day soon and Castiel would suddenly look like he had a beach ball up his shirt.
Castiel glanced up from his lap to Dean, and then to Dean's hand. “I'm sorry Dean, that I didn't say something sooner. But you can understand that this is not exactly standard for anyone. I am ... stressed.”
Dean nodded.
“And Sam has been so good to me these last few weeks...” Castiel thought for a moment. “Even though I can take care of myself, it's nice to have someone who cares.”
“I care!” Dean insisted vehemently. “It's just. I mean it's like. And then. But you have to... Uhh.”
Castiel just sat quietly and waited for Dean's tongue to catch up to his mind. In Cas' experience, that could take a few minutes.
“There's like... a baby inside you, man. Besides all the weird stuff, besides the fact that it's impossible and that you're an angel and all that, you're growing a person in there.” Dean wiggled his fingers on Cas' stomach. Castiel smiled and put his hand over top of Dean's.
“Does this mean you're going to stop being crazy and start doting on me like Sam does?”
Dean laughed. “No. Sam is someone's Jewish mother, not me. I'm going to keep you in check, make sure all Sam's cooing and pampering doesn't spoil you or the kid. Gotta raise my nephew right.” He pulled his hand away and stood up, stretching.
Castiel beamed at him. “Your nephew?”
“Yeah. You're an angel, not a superhero. You're going to need help raising him. Oh. And I get to name him.”
“Mhmm?” Castiel had picked up his book again and was had his serious-concentrating-on research eyes on, but he was still grinning. Dean found he was smiling too.
“Yeah, something catchy. Something like... Sloane or Ziggy or Hendrix or Hunter. Something rock 'n' roll and completely hardcore.”
Castiel mulled it over for a few moments. “I was thinking maybe Matthew. Or Luke. Biblical names.”
“Ah,” Dean dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Old fashioned boring upright names, really not suitable for a Winchester.”
“A Winchester? Oh hell no, boy.”
Sam had shuffled in through the door with their dinner and with Bobby, who was giving Dean a very dirty look. “I brought subs. And a biological father.”
Bobby wheeled himself over the dingy carpet. “I don't know what you think the game is, but you're not buying my baby, Winchester.”
“I don't... I didn't.” Dean shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable until he remembered he was Dean Fucking Winchester. “Whatever. I'll buy anyone's baby.”
Bobby and Dean locked into a staring contest. Sam busied himself handing everyone sandwiches. “Here Cas,” he said, holding one out. “Extra tomatoes.”
Castiel peeled back the paper and all but devoured the sandwich. “You are a very great man, Sam Winchester.”
“Anyways, if Castiel wants biblical names, I can only imagine this means Dean wanted...” Bobby and Sam exchanged looks. “Something terrible and inappropriate for the son of an angel right?”
Dean pouted magnificently while Castiel attempted to maintain his cool expression. “Dean suggested 'Ziggy'?”
“What!?” Bobby hurled a piece of lettuce at Dean's face. It hit and stuck for a few seconds until Dean shook it off. “Like David Bowie, or like that fat cartoon character? You know what, don't even tell me. I'm going to judge you either way.”
“You're a hateful man, Bobby Singer,” Dean muttered, flicking a piece of lettuce back. “And anyways, it's still better than Bible names.”
“I vote for something simple, timeless,” said Sam, kicking his feet up on the bed. “David or Toby, maybe.”
“Vote?” Castiel said mildly. “I wasn't aware there was going to be a vote on the name of my child. Although, I do in some ways enjoy the sound of Toby...”
Sam sat a little straighter while Bobby and Dean threw him dirty looks.
“I was thinking something more reflective of the child's heritage.” Castiel stretched and lay back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.
“Like what? An angel name?”
Castiel agreed with a nod. “Mmm.”
Everyone else traded looks.
“Shekinah, a name for the angel of unity and love. That would be nice. Or Ooniemme.”
“Oony Emmy? You're kidding me.” Dean made it sound like a dirty word.
“Ooniemme was the angel of gratitude.”
Dean shrugged. “It's just that that might be the single worst name I've heard of for anything. Oh no, but go ahead and name a kid that. See if he doesn't get beat up in school.”
Castiel half-raised himself up on his elbows, glaring. “Ooniemme was my brother, Dean, who died protecting me in battle during the First War against Lucifer. To this day, l miss him.”
Dean went red and busied himself with the remains of his lunch.
“Hadraniel?”
“You got that from a Tolkien book,” Bobby said without looking up.
“Kakabel then.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You'd name a kid Kaka-anything? That's cruel, man.”
“Trgiaob.” Castiel mused wistfully.
There was silence for a moment.
“Is there something wrong?” Castiel asked, looking between them. “It's a lovely name. And Trgiaob is a lovely angel. The angel of wild birds.”
Sam broke the silence first by putting his hands flat on his knees, making a very serious face for a moment and then bursting into raucous laughter. Once he started, Dean and Bobby followed. Castiel was left looking slightly confused.
“You guys are mean,” he said finally.
Dean wiped tears from his cheeks. “Oh man, Cas, I can't even-” he started laughing again.
“Fine.” Castiel crossed his arms over his belly. “How about Elijah? I like Elijah. The angel of innocence, he is.”
“Ooh,” Sam said, struggling to sit up. “That's actually not too bad. Reminds me of hobbits, but... Well.” He tried to say Trgiaob and mangled it terribly and they all dissolved into laughter again.
“No,” Dean agreed finally. “I like Elijah. It might just be passable.”
-
Six hours later, Dean was staring up at the ceiling, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. “Sam?”
“Nrghh?” Sam grunted. Dean heard him shifting around on the next bed.
“Castiel planned that name thing, didn’t he? He listed all the ones he knew we’d hate and then we all agreed to the first halfway decent one he said, but that was the one he wanted all along, isn’t it?”
“Wow. You been thinking about that all night and it only clicked now?”
Dean huffed at his brother. “Whatever, you’re telling me you knew all along?”
“Castiel and I picked ‘Elijah’ like, four days ago. We were just waiting for you to start the name conversation – and you did – so we could enact Operation Ridiculous Name.”
“...I hate you.”
Sam wriggled deeper into his blankets and chuckled. “Need I remind you that you wanted to call the kid ‘Ziggy’?”
Dean muttered something about it being ‘completely awesome,’ but Sam was already asleep.
-
After that, it was fairly smooth sailing as far as pregnancy went. Sam was still mothering Castiel like it was his only goal in life, there had been six or seven more arguments about names and unfair bastard angel trickery , Bobby was still showing up randomly to make sure Cas was getting enough calcium and vitamins and low-impact exercise and shouting at everyone when he found Cas wasn’t getting what Bobby thought he ought.
There was a tricky job with a poltergeist in Kentucky that left Dean with a dislocated shoulder and Sam with a concussion and everyone grumpy. Dean was lying on his non-injured side on one of the beds, scowling at the tv. Sam was sitting on the floor against the wall, just to avoid any accidental nodding off until he was sure the worst of his concussion had gone.
“Where’s Cas, anyways?” Sam asked, leaning forward and passing Dean a bottle of water.
“I don’t know. He’s been MIA for three days now. Said he had something important to take care of and time was of the essence.”
“Hm.”
They were quiet for a few minutes until Dean had a thought. “Oh shit,” he said, struggling to get off the bed and across the room. It wasn’t that the sudden arrival of a thought startled him or anything it was this thought in particular. He dug a battered calendar from his bag and flicked through a few pages.
“Sam.”
“He’s an angel, Dean, I’m sure he’s okay. He would have called if he needed anything.”
“Sam!”
“Castiel has been taking care of himself for like, six thousand years and-”
“SAM!”
Sam looked up. The calendar has fallen out of Dean’s hand and Dean was staring slack jawed at the open door. Castiel was leaning on the frame, looking extremely dishevelled . Damp hair was stuck to his forehead and he was breathing heavily.
“The baby was due nine days ago,” Dean hissed at his brother.
“Cas!” Sam scrambled to his feet at the same time Dean caught Cas around his shoulders and lead him to the bed. “Are you alright?” Sam asked.
“Labour is. Not pleasant.”
“You’re in labour?!” Dean looked much more stricken looking at Castiel sitting stiffly and bracing himself against the head board than he did a few hours earlier when he’d fallen off a third story balcony into some shrubbery.
“Yes, Dean. Someone should call Bobby.”
Sam was already on the phone. “He’s on his way,” he told them. “But he’s at least fifteen hours away.”
Castiel almost snorted a laugh. “I don’t think I even have fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, um, crap...” Dean was pacing. Sam helped Castiel out of his coat and loosened his tie.
“Water, please,” Castiel asked, touching Sam’s hand and looking pleadingly at him. “And for the love of everything, get him to sit down.”
“I won’t!” Dean barked. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital.”
Sam and Castiel traded their favourite ‘Dean is a Moron’ look while Dean paced a little more.
“Um, no. No Dean, because hospitals don’t really treat pregnant males. And they don’t treat angels. So they really don’t treat pregnant male angels,” Sam said, handing Castiel his bottle of water and pulled the tie over his head. Castiel batted his hands away.
“What?! No! Sam! We can’t deliver a baby!”
“We don’t have a choice dude. Now man the fuck up and stop looking like you’re going to puke because we need you here right now.”
“Sam’s right, I... need your help.”
Dean pushed his palms against his forehead. “Do we even know where the baby is going to come out of yet?”
Castiel chuckled dryly. “I do.”
“...And?”
“Let’s just say, it’s a good thing I’m an angel of the Lord and not a human like you, Dean.”
Dean made a terrible face. “Fuck, Cas! Does that mean... Oh god, what does that mean?” His eyes widened under the strain of what his brain was telling him would rip a human male in half.
“It means – ah!” Castiel screwed his eyes shut and his hand flew out to land on Sam’s arm which was the closest thing to him. He winced, then froze, then winced a little more. “I do not enjoy these contractions,” he said finally, letting go of Sam and blinking.
“Yeah, I can imagine not.” Sam busied himself moving things around and shuffling through papers, trying to make himself look busy and important so it looked better on him when he turned to Dean and said, “Dude, do you mind, you know, doing something?”
Dean looked around. He looked at Cas, then to Sam, then back to Cas and then at his own hands. “I don’t know if I can deliver a baby.” He'd never delivered a baby before. Once, he'd seen a barn cat give birth to kittens. He'd had nightmares for a week, although in his defence he had only been nine years old at the time, and anyway kittens were nothing like babies, especially not half-angel babies being delivered by their bitchy angel father. Or so he really, really hoped.
“Oh yes,” Castiel said darkly, his expression the very image of blankness, “I must have forgotten that you are going to be doing most of the difficult work, Dean. Please, I beg your pardon.”
“Hey! Don’t play the bitchy angel thing with me, I'm not the one who got you knocked you up.”
Castiel muttered something that wasn’t any language the Winchesters recognized, but his tone was unflattering.
“Shouldn’t you be like, breathing or something?” Dean asked, kneeling down next to Castiel and taking his wrist. He was checking for a normal pulse.
“Breathing?”
Dean looked up incredulously. “You know-”
“Of course I know, Dean, I was having you on and might I say – oh!” The smile died on his face when the next contraction hit. He clawed at Dean’s hand. When it had finally passed, Castiel laid back on the bed, frowning and gasping a little. “It’s time, it’s now...” he breathed.
Watching an angel give birth to his unnatural child was like watching a quail lay a hippopotamus egg, only there was a lot of light coming out of everywhere, and more light, and it was like Castiel - the real Castiel, not the body of Jimmy Novak - was straining and stretching and leaking out of his vessel all over the place. His wings spilled out over the bed, flexing and twitching with every straining push.
Dean really, really, really wanted Sam to stop telling Cas to push.
Castiel's voice rose higher and higher as he screamed, a whine like a jet engine or a celestial soprano reaching a glass-shattering crescendo as stuff kept happening. Dean, who was not an idiot, held onto Castiel's hand and kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his free hand pressed over his ear as Sam said things like "Uh, keep pushing - I can see the head - I think. Maybe I've gone blind, I don’t know."
‘No baby is worth this,’ Dean chanted in his head, over and over again. ‘No baby could possibly be worth this.’
Opening his eyes, he saw brilliantly glowing light and black feathers and ohfuckinghell blood, and so Dean quickly shut his eyes again until Sam yelled in triumph and Castiel suddenly went limp.
Dean opened his eyes once more, hesitantly, but there was no glowing. Castiel lay on the bed, looking as immaculate as always, but more unconscious. Sam was blinking furiously, rubbing his face and ignoring the trickling trails of blood that were running from his ears, nose and the corners of his eyes.
“Um?” Dean glanced around and then he saw... “Oh. Oh oh oh.” The baby was nestled against Castiel’s side, looking around the room with tiny eyes. “Oh it’s a baby.” Dean was pretty sure his hands were shaking, but Cas was practically comatose and Sam was still dripping. Dean slid a hand under the baby’s back and lifted it. It wasn’t slimy, like Dean had expected and it wasn’t screaming. Just looking at him with those familiar blue eyes.
He stared at it, the brand new human-type thing, but like, small and helpless and kind of cute. Dean started to count things, because he figured that was important, and then he realized that there was something very, very wrong. “This baby doesn’t have a penis,” he said, a little frantically. Ten fingers, ten toes, but no penis.
“A girl?” Sam breathed, wiping the last of the blood from his cheeks onto his sweater sleeve. “Oh wow. She’s...” he trailed off, eyes wide amazed.
Castiel opened his eyes and pulled himself up by tugging on the front of Sam’s shirt. "Give me the child," he said. Dean passed the tiny naked person over.
Dean secretly still thought that no baby was worth that shit, but the look on Castiel's face maybe changed his mind about that. A little bit. Maybe. Probably.
"She's beautiful," Castiel said, voice catching in his throat a little. Sam slid down onto the bed next to Cas.
“May I?”
Castiel passed his daughter over to Sam, who looked like he was about to cry. “I had no idea...” he started, before trailing off again. They both looked up at Dean. “Do you want to hold her?”
“Ahah!” the noise was halfway between a yelp and a laugh and it exploded from Dean’s throat before he could stop it. “No way, I’d drop her.” He stepped away from the bed. “And she’s naked. She needs... like a blanket or something.” He knelt by his duffle and rummaged around. Of course there was no receiving blanket in there because he had really expected Castiel to deliver the baby in a hospital. Instead, Dean pulled out his cleanest looking tee shirt. It was soft and well worn with age and if they didn’t have a baby blanket, this might be the next best thing.
“Wrapping the baby in a Black Sabbath shirt? That’s one way to induct her into the family,” Sam muttered, but good naturedly. “Oh that’s right. If she’s a girl, Elijah is less of a great name”
“I don’t know,” Castiel said, tilting his head and looking down at the baby, eyes glowing with pride. “Elijah. I think it’s lovely.” He tucked the sleeve of the tee shirt around the baby who was now named Elijah.
Dean sat on the edge of the bed and eyed Elijah carefully. “Yeah. Yeah it suits her.”
Cas was smiling softly, which for the angel might have been a big goofy grin like the one on Sam’s face, Dean thought. But he also thought it might be catching, because before he knew it, he was smiling too. “Here,” he said finally, lifting the small girl from Castiel’s lap.
“She likes you,” Castiel said, watching Elijah watch Dean.
“What? She’s ten minutes old. How do you know?”
“Because I like you,” Castiel told him. “Truly.” He rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, yawning. “Both of you. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”
The baby was mirroring her father, yawning and sticking three chubby baby fingers in her mouth. Sam and Castiel were talking about something or other, but Dean wasn’t really listening. Little Elijah Winchester, Dean mused, trailing a finger carefully down her cheek. He wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure that as long as he had this little girl in his arms, he wouldn’t be hearing much else.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: not really any
Rating: 13+
Word Count: ~4,700
Warnings: Mpreg, some language, an actual birth, some sap, references to slash.
Summary: 'But Dean was sober and alive, and no matter what else he said or thought, Castiel was still pregnant, and he and Sam apparently had to just deal with it.'
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Oh. My gods. This was a long time coming and for that I sincerely apologize. This one is for
tangodoodles as the winner of my help_haiti fic. Hopefully it fulfills all your hopes and dreams, dear. Also requested by sparrowshellcat. It was amazing to me how many people wanted mpreg. Also a huge thank you to epiphanyx7 who beta'd this, listened to all my of whining and linked me to the angel name site.It had been a very rough four months on all of them before Dean finally snapped. “Dammit, Cas, what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been moody and unbearable for months now. You’re getting on my very last nerve, and I’m the one with the gun.”
Castiel turned to face the wall and didn’t say anything at all.
“Um, Cas? Are you crying?” Sam hazarded the question after a few tense moments.
“No!” Castiel lied. It was clear that he was. “I'm sorry, Dean, I guess the last few months have been rather difficult on me. I didn’t realize I was taking it out on you and Sam.”
“Well, you have been. What the hell is up with you, anyways?”
Castiel turned around again and watched them for a few moments, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes with a magically appearing handkerchief. Dean was cleaning his gun on the bed and Sam was on the floor, leaning against the tv stand and looking concernedly back at him. “I have been instructed not to talk about it.” Castiel replied solemnly.
“That’s bullshit, Cas,” Dean said, setting his gun down. “Now I know we’re all manly men and manly angels around here, but if something big is happening, something big enough to make you twitchy and mood swingy and crying... then I think we need to - talk about it.”
This was obviously painful for Dean to say, and Castiel appreciated that the elder Winchester was willing to break his No Chick Flick Moments policy for Castiel. The angel could feel himself tearing up in gratitude. The Winchesters were so wonderful.
"I am..." Castiel said, hesitantly. “I’m pregnant.”
“No, I mean it, Castiel, I think you just need to tell us what’s going on so we can help you.”
“I just told you.”
“What?” Dean’s expression changed comically. “No, you said ‘It’s not your concern, Dean’. That’s what you always say.”
Castiel sighed theatrically and turned to speak to Sam. “I have no idea how you put up with him all these years. I would have long ago delivered to him the Mighty Wrath of My Father. Or shot him.”
“I have,” Sam said dryly. “It just makes him worse.”
Castiel huffed impatiently.
“Dean. Sam. I am pregnant.”
"No you're not," Dean said, very loudly. “You’re a ... dude. You, him, that... that body. You can’t have a baby.”
Castiel covered his midsection protectively. “I am an Angel of the Lord,” he reminded Dean haughtily. “I’d thank you to keep your labels off my body.”
“But it’s not your body!” Dean exploded. He tossed his gun on the bed and stalked towards the bathroom.
Sam stood up shakily, watching Castiel closely. “You’re really serious?”
Castiel nodded. His eyes were large and sad and starting to get even larger, and sadder, like something out of a cartoon. Sam felt an overwhelming need to hug him, or pet his hair, or give him things, or just protect the heck out of him.
“Oh. Okay. Um... Do you need anything?”
“Stop encouraging him, Sam!” Dean shouted from behind the bathroom door.
Castiel smiled. “Thank you, Sam, but no.”
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, still watching Castiel carefully.
Cautiously sitting next to him, Castiel sighed wistfully. “You have questions,” he intoned.
“There’s only one question,” Dean said, stomping out of the bathroom. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Castiel turned away and faced the wall again. His shoulders did not shake at all, and yet everybody in the room knew that Castiel was crying big, fat, salty tears of deep emotional upset.
“Jeezy Creezy,” Dean growled. He was getting much better at minding his religious toned swears in front of the angel, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to express his frustration. “Castiel, don’t cry. I’m just... I’m going to have to see it to believe it.”
“Did my Father’s Son not say ‘Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed’?” Castiel asked, hastily rubbing sleeve across his face, eliminating a few stray tears. “You have to have faith, Dean.”
“Alright,” said Dean. “If you’re pregnant, the who is the father?” The challenge was evident in his voice.
“I am!” said a firm, familiar voice from the doorway.
Dean fell over dead.
Okay, he wasn’t dead. But he did fall over. And when Bobby wheeled over and flicked him between the eyes, he fervently wished he was dead.
“How is this happening?” Dean moaned. “This is unreal.”
“Dean, we fight monsters for a living. Nothing should be unreal to us.” There was a helpful tone in Sam’s voice, but Dean found it mostly annoying.
There was a sick feeling curling in Dean’s insides. “Why is Bobby the father of your baby?”
“Is it so hard to believe a man and an angel can’t fall deeply in love and want to have a life together and share the joy of parenthood, you great idjit?” Bobby shot back, indignantly rolling over Dean’s foot in his wheelchair.
Dean gaped.
“Nah, I’m just fucking with you,” he said, straightening his ball cap. “We’re just friends.” He tilted his chin up at Castiel, the very picture of cool. Castiel responded in kind.
“A hunter is the perfect father to the baby of an angel. The baby will have the strength, both physically and mentally, to stand against the armies of Hell and hunt the evil that lurks in this world, and the grace and inner tranquility that comes from being the offspring of an angel will help the child spiritually and emotionally with those same things.”
Dean and Sam both glanced around a bit, looking for the teleprompter or cue cards that Castiel had been reading off of.
“So, did Heaven put you up to this?”
Castiel frowned. “Dean, what I’m doing is an honour and a joy. Don’t sully this.”
Dean looked at his shoes. “I... I’m sorry.” He looked back up at Castiel with an attempted smile. It faltered and faded. “I’m sorry!” he said again, louder and more vehemently. He ran into the bathroom for the second time that morning and slammed the door behind him.
Bobby wheeled over to Cas and patted his arm a little awkwardly. “He’s just acting out because he wants to be the only child. It’s textbook.” Castiel nodded, somewhat mollified. “He’ll come around. Just wait until he holds that baby in his arms. He’ll forget he was ever upset the moment he becomes a big brother.”
“...I hate you,” Sam hissed. But no one listened because no one ever really listens to what Sam has to say.
“Castiel?” Dean was peeking from around the bathroom door. “I am having a really hard time believing any of this is really happening. Maybe it’s another Trickster joke. Or I’m drunk. Or high. Or dead.” He brightened up noticeably. "Hey, I could be dead!"
But Dean was sober and alive, and no matter what else he said or thought, Castiel was still pregnant, and he and Sam apparently had to just deal with it.
-
Three weeks later, at a tacky 50’s themed motel outside Tucson, Arizona, Dean was going crazy. Crazier, anyways. Sam had been acting weird around Castiel since they’d heard the news and it was wearing heavily on Dean’s nerves.
“Hungry?” Sam asked, closing his laptop and standing up from the small table. Dean glanced up to say yes, but Sam wasn't paying any attention to him and was instead looking at Castiel.
“For the love of-! Sam.”
“Yes, thank you, Samuel,” Castiel said quietly.
Sam smiled, looking a little sheepish. “No problem. I’ll uh. Be back in a few.” He looked pointedly at Dean until Dean groaned and forked over the keys to the car.
“So,” Dean said, waiting until the door closed behind Sam.
Castiel looked up from his book. “Yes?”
“I’m not okay with this,” he said, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of bed near Cas. He reached out, like he was going to touch the angel, but stopped short, his hands just sort of hovering in the air. “It’s weird and unnatural and the idea of Bobby raising children terrifies me.”
Castiel cleared his throat and gave Dean 'A Look'. “I will be doing most the child rearing, Dean. Bobby is just in it for the genetic material.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, suddenly remembering something else. “What’s up with that? You said you picked Bobby because he’s a hunter. You know there’s like... more hunters than just Bobby.”
“Ellen threatened me with a gun when I asked.” Castiel informed him primly. He crossed his arms over his stomach.
Dean snorted. “I believe that. But... whatever. I just can’t get over Bobby...”
“You want to know why I didn’t ask you.” Castiel said, tilting his head to the side as he stared deep into the depths of Dean's soul, or maybe at the wallpaper over Dean's shoulder.
It was stupid and obvious, Dean knew, but it was the biggest question in his mind these days. Bigger even than ‘when did Sam become an overprotective, mothering, girly man?’ and ‘but where is the baby going to come out of?’
“Dean...” Castiel looked at his hands. “With everything you’re going through right now, with the apocalypse and Michael and your issues with Sam and that mole on your-” he struggled for the right word and made a feeble hand gesture. “On your bottom,” he finally managed. “With everything going on, I didn’t think you’d even want to hear it.”
Dean’s hand had still been fluttering uselessly in the air, but when Castiel looked back down at his lap, expression halfway between Cas-Standard-Blank and Ashamed, Dean reached out and laid his palm flat across Castiel’s belly. The bump was barely noticeable, but Dean was half-convinced he would blink one day soon and Castiel would suddenly look like he had a beach ball up his shirt.
Castiel glanced up from his lap to Dean, and then to Dean's hand. “I'm sorry Dean, that I didn't say something sooner. But you can understand that this is not exactly standard for anyone. I am ... stressed.”
Dean nodded.
“And Sam has been so good to me these last few weeks...” Castiel thought for a moment. “Even though I can take care of myself, it's nice to have someone who cares.”
“I care!” Dean insisted vehemently. “It's just. I mean it's like. And then. But you have to... Uhh.”
Castiel just sat quietly and waited for Dean's tongue to catch up to his mind. In Cas' experience, that could take a few minutes.
“There's like... a baby inside you, man. Besides all the weird stuff, besides the fact that it's impossible and that you're an angel and all that, you're growing a person in there.” Dean wiggled his fingers on Cas' stomach. Castiel smiled and put his hand over top of Dean's.
“Does this mean you're going to stop being crazy and start doting on me like Sam does?”
Dean laughed. “No. Sam is someone's Jewish mother, not me. I'm going to keep you in check, make sure all Sam's cooing and pampering doesn't spoil you or the kid. Gotta raise my nephew right.” He pulled his hand away and stood up, stretching.
Castiel beamed at him. “Your nephew?”
“Yeah. You're an angel, not a superhero. You're going to need help raising him. Oh. And I get to name him.”
“Mhmm?” Castiel had picked up his book again and was had his serious-concentrating-on research eyes on, but he was still grinning. Dean found he was smiling too.
“Yeah, something catchy. Something like... Sloane or Ziggy or Hendrix or Hunter. Something rock 'n' roll and completely hardcore.”
Castiel mulled it over for a few moments. “I was thinking maybe Matthew. Or Luke. Biblical names.”
“Ah,” Dean dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Old fashioned boring upright names, really not suitable for a Winchester.”
“A Winchester? Oh hell no, boy.”
Sam had shuffled in through the door with their dinner and with Bobby, who was giving Dean a very dirty look. “I brought subs. And a biological father.”
Bobby wheeled himself over the dingy carpet. “I don't know what you think the game is, but you're not buying my baby, Winchester.”
“I don't... I didn't.” Dean shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable until he remembered he was Dean Fucking Winchester. “Whatever. I'll buy anyone's baby.”
Bobby and Dean locked into a staring contest. Sam busied himself handing everyone sandwiches. “Here Cas,” he said, holding one out. “Extra tomatoes.”
Castiel peeled back the paper and all but devoured the sandwich. “You are a very great man, Sam Winchester.”
“Anyways, if Castiel wants biblical names, I can only imagine this means Dean wanted...” Bobby and Sam exchanged looks. “Something terrible and inappropriate for the son of an angel right?”
Dean pouted magnificently while Castiel attempted to maintain his cool expression. “Dean suggested 'Ziggy'?”
“What!?” Bobby hurled a piece of lettuce at Dean's face. It hit and stuck for a few seconds until Dean shook it off. “Like David Bowie, or like that fat cartoon character? You know what, don't even tell me. I'm going to judge you either way.”
“You're a hateful man, Bobby Singer,” Dean muttered, flicking a piece of lettuce back. “And anyways, it's still better than Bible names.”
“I vote for something simple, timeless,” said Sam, kicking his feet up on the bed. “David or Toby, maybe.”
“Vote?” Castiel said mildly. “I wasn't aware there was going to be a vote on the name of my child. Although, I do in some ways enjoy the sound of Toby...”
Sam sat a little straighter while Bobby and Dean threw him dirty looks.
“I was thinking something more reflective of the child's heritage.” Castiel stretched and lay back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.
“Like what? An angel name?”
Castiel agreed with a nod. “Mmm.”
Everyone else traded looks.
“Shekinah, a name for the angel of unity and love. That would be nice. Or Ooniemme.”
“Oony Emmy? You're kidding me.” Dean made it sound like a dirty word.
“Ooniemme was the angel of gratitude.”
Dean shrugged. “It's just that that might be the single worst name I've heard of for anything. Oh no, but go ahead and name a kid that. See if he doesn't get beat up in school.”
Castiel half-raised himself up on his elbows, glaring. “Ooniemme was my brother, Dean, who died protecting me in battle during the First War against Lucifer. To this day, l miss him.”
Dean went red and busied himself with the remains of his lunch.
“Hadraniel?”
“You got that from a Tolkien book,” Bobby said without looking up.
“Kakabel then.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You'd name a kid Kaka-anything? That's cruel, man.”
“Trgiaob.” Castiel mused wistfully.
There was silence for a moment.
“Is there something wrong?” Castiel asked, looking between them. “It's a lovely name. And Trgiaob is a lovely angel. The angel of wild birds.”
Sam broke the silence first by putting his hands flat on his knees, making a very serious face for a moment and then bursting into raucous laughter. Once he started, Dean and Bobby followed. Castiel was left looking slightly confused.
“You guys are mean,” he said finally.
Dean wiped tears from his cheeks. “Oh man, Cas, I can't even-” he started laughing again.
“Fine.” Castiel crossed his arms over his belly. “How about Elijah? I like Elijah. The angel of innocence, he is.”
“Ooh,” Sam said, struggling to sit up. “That's actually not too bad. Reminds me of hobbits, but... Well.” He tried to say Trgiaob and mangled it terribly and they all dissolved into laughter again.
“No,” Dean agreed finally. “I like Elijah. It might just be passable.”
-
Six hours later, Dean was staring up at the ceiling, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. “Sam?”
“Nrghh?” Sam grunted. Dean heard him shifting around on the next bed.
“Castiel planned that name thing, didn’t he? He listed all the ones he knew we’d hate and then we all agreed to the first halfway decent one he said, but that was the one he wanted all along, isn’t it?”
“Wow. You been thinking about that all night and it only clicked now?”
Dean huffed at his brother. “Whatever, you’re telling me you knew all along?”
“Castiel and I picked ‘Elijah’ like, four days ago. We were just waiting for you to start the name conversation – and you did – so we could enact Operation Ridiculous Name.”
“...I hate you.”
Sam wriggled deeper into his blankets and chuckled. “Need I remind you that you wanted to call the kid ‘Ziggy’?”
Dean muttered something about it being ‘completely awesome,’ but Sam was already asleep.
-
After that, it was fairly smooth sailing as far as pregnancy went. Sam was still mothering Castiel like it was his only goal in life, there had been six or seven more arguments about names and unfair bastard angel trickery , Bobby was still showing up randomly to make sure Cas was getting enough calcium and vitamins and low-impact exercise and shouting at everyone when he found Cas wasn’t getting what Bobby thought he ought.
There was a tricky job with a poltergeist in Kentucky that left Dean with a dislocated shoulder and Sam with a concussion and everyone grumpy. Dean was lying on his non-injured side on one of the beds, scowling at the tv. Sam was sitting on the floor against the wall, just to avoid any accidental nodding off until he was sure the worst of his concussion had gone.
“Where’s Cas, anyways?” Sam asked, leaning forward and passing Dean a bottle of water.
“I don’t know. He’s been MIA for three days now. Said he had something important to take care of and time was of the essence.”
“Hm.”
They were quiet for a few minutes until Dean had a thought. “Oh shit,” he said, struggling to get off the bed and across the room. It wasn’t that the sudden arrival of a thought startled him or anything it was this thought in particular. He dug a battered calendar from his bag and flicked through a few pages.
“Sam.”
“He’s an angel, Dean, I’m sure he’s okay. He would have called if he needed anything.”
“Sam!”
“Castiel has been taking care of himself for like, six thousand years and-”
“SAM!”
Sam looked up. The calendar has fallen out of Dean’s hand and Dean was staring slack jawed at the open door. Castiel was leaning on the frame, looking extremely dishevelled . Damp hair was stuck to his forehead and he was breathing heavily.
“The baby was due nine days ago,” Dean hissed at his brother.
“Cas!” Sam scrambled to his feet at the same time Dean caught Cas around his shoulders and lead him to the bed. “Are you alright?” Sam asked.
“Labour is. Not pleasant.”
“You’re in labour?!” Dean looked much more stricken looking at Castiel sitting stiffly and bracing himself against the head board than he did a few hours earlier when he’d fallen off a third story balcony into some shrubbery.
“Yes, Dean. Someone should call Bobby.”
Sam was already on the phone. “He’s on his way,” he told them. “But he’s at least fifteen hours away.”
Castiel almost snorted a laugh. “I don’t think I even have fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, um, crap...” Dean was pacing. Sam helped Castiel out of his coat and loosened his tie.
“Water, please,” Castiel asked, touching Sam’s hand and looking pleadingly at him. “And for the love of everything, get him to sit down.”
“I won’t!” Dean barked. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital.”
Sam and Castiel traded their favourite ‘Dean is a Moron’ look while Dean paced a little more.
“Um, no. No Dean, because hospitals don’t really treat pregnant males. And they don’t treat angels. So they really don’t treat pregnant male angels,” Sam said, handing Castiel his bottle of water and pulled the tie over his head. Castiel batted his hands away.
“What?! No! Sam! We can’t deliver a baby!”
“We don’t have a choice dude. Now man the fuck up and stop looking like you’re going to puke because we need you here right now.”
“Sam’s right, I... need your help.”
Dean pushed his palms against his forehead. “Do we even know where the baby is going to come out of yet?”
Castiel chuckled dryly. “I do.”
“...And?”
“Let’s just say, it’s a good thing I’m an angel of the Lord and not a human like you, Dean.”
Dean made a terrible face. “Fuck, Cas! Does that mean... Oh god, what does that mean?” His eyes widened under the strain of what his brain was telling him would rip a human male in half.
“It means – ah!” Castiel screwed his eyes shut and his hand flew out to land on Sam’s arm which was the closest thing to him. He winced, then froze, then winced a little more. “I do not enjoy these contractions,” he said finally, letting go of Sam and blinking.
“Yeah, I can imagine not.” Sam busied himself moving things around and shuffling through papers, trying to make himself look busy and important so it looked better on him when he turned to Dean and said, “Dude, do you mind, you know, doing something?”
Dean looked around. He looked at Cas, then to Sam, then back to Cas and then at his own hands. “I don’t know if I can deliver a baby.” He'd never delivered a baby before. Once, he'd seen a barn cat give birth to kittens. He'd had nightmares for a week, although in his defence he had only been nine years old at the time, and anyway kittens were nothing like babies, especially not half-angel babies being delivered by their bitchy angel father. Or so he really, really hoped.
“Oh yes,” Castiel said darkly, his expression the very image of blankness, “I must have forgotten that you are going to be doing most of the difficult work, Dean. Please, I beg your pardon.”
“Hey! Don’t play the bitchy angel thing with me, I'm not the one who got you knocked you up.”
Castiel muttered something that wasn’t any language the Winchesters recognized, but his tone was unflattering.
“Shouldn’t you be like, breathing or something?” Dean asked, kneeling down next to Castiel and taking his wrist. He was checking for a normal pulse.
“Breathing?”
Dean looked up incredulously. “You know-”
“Of course I know, Dean, I was having you on and might I say – oh!” The smile died on his face when the next contraction hit. He clawed at Dean’s hand. When it had finally passed, Castiel laid back on the bed, frowning and gasping a little. “It’s time, it’s now...” he breathed.
Watching an angel give birth to his unnatural child was like watching a quail lay a hippopotamus egg, only there was a lot of light coming out of everywhere, and more light, and it was like Castiel - the real Castiel, not the body of Jimmy Novak - was straining and stretching and leaking out of his vessel all over the place. His wings spilled out over the bed, flexing and twitching with every straining push.
Dean really, really, really wanted Sam to stop telling Cas to push.
Castiel's voice rose higher and higher as he screamed, a whine like a jet engine or a celestial soprano reaching a glass-shattering crescendo as stuff kept happening. Dean, who was not an idiot, held onto Castiel's hand and kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his free hand pressed over his ear as Sam said things like "Uh, keep pushing - I can see the head - I think. Maybe I've gone blind, I don’t know."
‘No baby is worth this,’ Dean chanted in his head, over and over again. ‘No baby could possibly be worth this.’
Opening his eyes, he saw brilliantly glowing light and black feathers and ohfuckinghell blood, and so Dean quickly shut his eyes again until Sam yelled in triumph and Castiel suddenly went limp.
Dean opened his eyes once more, hesitantly, but there was no glowing. Castiel lay on the bed, looking as immaculate as always, but more unconscious. Sam was blinking furiously, rubbing his face and ignoring the trickling trails of blood that were running from his ears, nose and the corners of his eyes.
“Um?” Dean glanced around and then he saw... “Oh. Oh oh oh.” The baby was nestled against Castiel’s side, looking around the room with tiny eyes. “Oh it’s a baby.” Dean was pretty sure his hands were shaking, but Cas was practically comatose and Sam was still dripping. Dean slid a hand under the baby’s back and lifted it. It wasn’t slimy, like Dean had expected and it wasn’t screaming. Just looking at him with those familiar blue eyes.
He stared at it, the brand new human-type thing, but like, small and helpless and kind of cute. Dean started to count things, because he figured that was important, and then he realized that there was something very, very wrong. “This baby doesn’t have a penis,” he said, a little frantically. Ten fingers, ten toes, but no penis.
“A girl?” Sam breathed, wiping the last of the blood from his cheeks onto his sweater sleeve. “Oh wow. She’s...” he trailed off, eyes wide amazed.
Castiel opened his eyes and pulled himself up by tugging on the front of Sam’s shirt. "Give me the child," he said. Dean passed the tiny naked person over.
Dean secretly still thought that no baby was worth that shit, but the look on Castiel's face maybe changed his mind about that. A little bit. Maybe. Probably.
"She's beautiful," Castiel said, voice catching in his throat a little. Sam slid down onto the bed next to Cas.
“May I?”
Castiel passed his daughter over to Sam, who looked like he was about to cry. “I had no idea...” he started, before trailing off again. They both looked up at Dean. “Do you want to hold her?”
“Ahah!” the noise was halfway between a yelp and a laugh and it exploded from Dean’s throat before he could stop it. “No way, I’d drop her.” He stepped away from the bed. “And she’s naked. She needs... like a blanket or something.” He knelt by his duffle and rummaged around. Of course there was no receiving blanket in there because he had really expected Castiel to deliver the baby in a hospital. Instead, Dean pulled out his cleanest looking tee shirt. It was soft and well worn with age and if they didn’t have a baby blanket, this might be the next best thing.
“Wrapping the baby in a Black Sabbath shirt? That’s one way to induct her into the family,” Sam muttered, but good naturedly. “Oh that’s right. If she’s a girl, Elijah is less of a great name”
“I don’t know,” Castiel said, tilting his head and looking down at the baby, eyes glowing with pride. “Elijah. I think it’s lovely.” He tucked the sleeve of the tee shirt around the baby who was now named Elijah.
Dean sat on the edge of the bed and eyed Elijah carefully. “Yeah. Yeah it suits her.”
Cas was smiling softly, which for the angel might have been a big goofy grin like the one on Sam’s face, Dean thought. But he also thought it might be catching, because before he knew it, he was smiling too. “Here,” he said finally, lifting the small girl from Castiel’s lap.
“She likes you,” Castiel said, watching Elijah watch Dean.
“What? She’s ten minutes old. How do you know?”
“Because I like you,” Castiel told him. “Truly.” He rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, yawning. “Both of you. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”
The baby was mirroring her father, yawning and sticking three chubby baby fingers in her mouth. Sam and Castiel were talking about something or other, but Dean wasn’t really listening. Little Elijah Winchester, Dean mused, trailing a finger carefully down her cheek. He wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure that as long as he had this little girl in his arms, he wouldn’t be hearing much else.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-11 09:02 pm (UTC)“This baby doesn’t have a penis,” he said, a little frantically. Ten fingers, ten toes, but no penis.
Still my favourite line ever.
And a wonderful job, my dear, a truly wonderful job. I am proud of you, although I think that this deserves a bolivian toad-soul tag or something. *cough*
no subject
Date: 2010-03-11 09:06 pm (UTC)