Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel,
Genre: Comedy/romance/some angst
Nothing exciting ever happened to
Dean Winchester.
Not recently anyway. Gone were the
days of world saving endeavors. The apocalypse had been prevented. The slayable
horsemen had been slain. All the demons were banished to hell and the angels
had retreated to the heavens.
Except for one.
That angel, Mr. Tax Accountant
turned Suzy Homemaker, was baking an apple pie in Dean’s kitchen. Well, not
just Dean’s kitchen, but the shared kitchen in the lovely suburban home of Mr.
and Mr. Dean Winchester.
Dean was bored out of his mind.
Sure, he still went on the
occasional hunt, but so did Castiel (because they did everything together). And
since he was all angel'd up again and ready to put the smite down on any beastie
that crossed their path, the fight would be over in seconds. Dean didn't have
to lift a finger. He drove—the chauffeur to the hunter.
Not that Dean wanted another
apocalypse. He wasn’t insane. But he wanted something to do other than watch
TV, drink beer and spend the weekends tinkering with cars.
Not that he’d ever thought he’d
feel this way. Not back in the thick of things, when every moment was a battle for
the fate of the world (and in what he was gradually coming to think of as the
best time of his life) he’d thought he wanted to settle down.
At least Castiel could cook. There
had been a lot of mishaps and learning experiences along the way, but he’d been
determined to be a good husband and to be able to make the things that Dean
liked. The pie smelled good. At least there was that.
Castiel drifted out of the kitchen into
the living room. He was wearing the ugly, beige—a color he seemed to have a
thing for—apron that Dean had tried to replace more than once. The last one
he’d bought him had the words “Angel in the kitchen, demon in the sack” written
in respective flames and rhinestones. Castiel didn’t even try it on before it
mysteriously disappeared.
Castiel’s footsteps stopped beside
him. Dean felt a hand drop affectionately onto his shoulder. He patted it
automatically. Dean’s responses had become token and meaningless. His attention
never truly left the game while he waited for Castiel to return to the kitchen.
A few seconds passed and Castiel
was still standing there. Damn it, he was going to ask him to do something.
Something mundane and boring and…
Someone knocked at the door.
Dean sighed. The entire world was
conspiring to make him get up.
“Will you get that, Cas?” he asked.
“Of course.” Castiel planted a kiss
on top of Dean’s head, his shoulder blocked the TV forcing Dean to move to
avoid missing the play.
After a moment Dean heard the door
open.
And promptly slam shut again.
He turned to look and saw Castiel
with his back pressed to the door as if holding back the very gates of hell.
“Cas?” he asked.
“It’s no one.” Castiel’s eyes
darted around as if searching for something to bar the door with.
Dean had never heard the words “no
one” said in that tone without the unspoken “that I want to tell you about”
following after.
“Cas.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as he
set his beer down on the table. He fully intended to know exactly who it was
that Castiel didn’t want him to see.
“I forgot something at the store,”
Castiel said, his voice not quite its usual calm. “I will purchase it and
return.” Castiel swallowed and averted his eyes. “Don’t wait up.”
He vanished.
Don’t wait up? The clock on the entertainment center confirmed it was only
4:30 in the afternoon.
Dean jumped to his feet, crossing
the room in seconds to jerk the front door open. But he wasn’t surprised when
he saw no one was there.
He returned to drain his beer in
one long pull. When he was done he went to the fridge to get another.
His cell was sitting on the
counter. He considered calling Castiel, but then rejected the idea. He doubted
he’d tell him anything, at least nothing that wasn’t going to piss him off.
Instead he sat back down on the couch. He tried to lose himself in the game but
his concentration was ruined.
A while later a thick plume of
smoke alerted him to the charred remains of his apple pie.
#
Dean was in bed when Castiel
returned. The room was dark and he made no sound to let the angel know he was
awake. Although he imagined his senses were keen enough that he could tell by
the sound of Dean’s breathing.
Dean listened as Castiel removed
his shoes in the hallway and crept into the room. There was silence for a
moment and then the sound of a zipper followed by the rustle of hangers. Far
too many hangers for Castiel to be just retrieving his night clothes.
Dean snapped on the bedside light,
temporarily blinding himself.
“Where were you?” he asked. His
vision cleared enough to see Castiel’s guilty expression before his gaze
settled on the half-full duffle bag.
“My apologies.” Castiel stuffed
another shirt in, too hurried to bother folding it. “I didn’t mean to wake
you.”
As if waking him was the biggest
problem here.
“What the hell do you think you’re
doing?” Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Something important has happened
that I have to take care of.” Castiel didn’t meet his eyes.
Dean watched as he stuffed their
spare set of sheets into the bag as well.
“Where are you going that you need
those?” Dean said, jabbing a finger at the offending objects.
Castiel contemplated him for a
moment. Then he shook his head, apparently deciding it wasn’t something he
could tell Dean.
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said.
“Alright.” Dean followed him as he
went to get his shoes, silently counting to five to get control of his anger.
“Can you at least tell me when you’ll be back?”
Castiel looked up at him then, regret
showing on his face. “I’ll stop by sometime tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow—wait.” Dean paused as the
implication sunk in. “What do you mean stop by...?”
But Castiel disappeared before Dean
even finished his sentence.
#
The next morning Dean was shaken
from sleep by the sound of his phone. It was open and up to his ear before he
was conscious enough to make out the name on the screen.
“Cas?” he said into the receiver.
“No,” Sam said with a snort. “Learn
to read your caller ID.”
“What do you want?”
“Wow, someone’s in a good mood
today. Have a fight with the Misses?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Oh come on, it was a joke.
Speaking of Cas, is he there? I need to talk to him and he isn’t answering his
phone.”
There was a long silence.
“Dean?”
“I don’t know where he is,” Dean said,
and even he was surprised at how frustrated he sounded.
“Oh,” Sam said, suddenly
uncomfortable.
“He didn’t come home last night.”
Dean had no idea why he chose to share that. It wasn’t like he wanted to talk with
Sam about this.
“He didn’t?” There was an audible
switch in Sam’s voice as he went into hunter-mode. “Where was the last place he
was? Have you talked to—?”
“He stopped by to get some clothes
and our sheets before he left.”
Sam sucked in his breath.
Damn it, Dean knew better to open
up. Sam was just going to say something stupid and then somehow it would be
Dean’s fault when he tore him a new one.
“You mean he left you?” Sam asked.
“Sam, don’t be an idiot.” Because
only an idiot could think for one second that Castiel would do that. Castiel
loved him, worshiped him, followed him around like a god damned puppy. There
was no way he would ever even think about... “Of course, he didn’t leave me.”
“Ok, Dean.” Sam’s voice was full of
something that made Dean’s blood boil. “I’m sorry—”
“Shut it.”
Sam sighed. “Well, when you hear
from him will you have him call me?”
Dean hung up without making a
reply, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Not to mention that the way
things were going, Sam would probably hear from Castiel before he did.
Dean went into the kitchen in search
of painkillers to fight off the massive headache that was building behind his
eyes. He was surprised to see the Castiel’s awful apron thrown carelessly onto
the counter. Usually he was such a neat freak. Dean picked it up, preparing to
throw it in a wadded ball on the closet floor, when he noticed something
clinging to it.
It was a single white feather, far
too large to belong to any bird.
He brushed his fingers over the
soft plume as he turned it around to inspect it. This didn’t make any sense. As
far as Dean knew, the only time angel wings took an actual feather form,
instead of some cosmic mix of light and power, was during angel on angel sex.
Not that those were the words Castiel had used, but what else could
“significant moments of connection between angels” mean?
Also, Castiel’s feathers were
black.
Dean felt queasy in a way that had
nothing to do with the alcohol he’d consumed last night.
Had Castiel become as bored of the
human world as Dean had with suburbia?
A cold knot of fear slithered its
way down into his belly to splash in a reservoir of anger.
How could Castiel do that? After everything they’d been
through? Just last week he’d mentioned wanting to adopt a kid together. Sure,
Dean had shot that idea down faster than a yellow-eyed demon in a graveyard,
but he never thought Castiel would make a suggestion like that if he wasn’t
absolutely committed to them.
Dean snatched up his phone and made
the phone call he’d been avoiding. It only rang once before going to voicemail,
which meant the son of a bitch had dismissed him. Dean’s torrent of profanity
was only censored by the ending beep of Castiel’s voicemail.
A few minutes later he received a
text, it read: I’m sorry.
He was getting awfully tired of
that phrase.
#
Castiel appeared in their living
room at 4pm, nearly twenty-four hours since he’d first left.
“Finally decide to come home?” Dean
asked. He did his best to keep his relief that Castiel had kept his promise out
of his tone.
“I can’t.” Castiel gave him a weak
smile. “At least not yet.”
“If you don’t start explaining
there isn’t going to be a home for you to come back to.”
Castiel winced. “This is important.
You need to trust me.”
“Why?” Dean thrust the white
feather at him. “Who does this belong to?”
Castiel’s eyes widened as he looked
from the feather to Dean and back again.
“How did you acquire that?” Castiel
asked.
Dean knew him well enough to detect
the taint of guilt in his monotonous tone.
“It was on your apron.”
“Oh,” Castiel frowned. “I wish you
hadn’t found that.”
Dean swallowed. Despite his
accusations he’d expected a reasonable explanation. It was Cas after all.
“I’ll explain when I can. I’m…”
Castiel’s eyes were full of regret, “sorry.”
And Dean was alone again.
Dean grabbed his cell phone. He was
done waiting for Castiel to make the next move. He selected Sam’s number and
pressed the call button.
“Have you heard from him yet?” Sam
said instead of hello.
“I need you to do a credit card
trace for me.”
“Now?” Sam paused. “Um, ok. Whose?”
“Cas’s.”
Sam was silent, as if he needed a
moment to mull it over.
“Uh, Dean?”
“I need to know what he’s doing.”
And at this point it truly had become a need.
“Don’t you think that’s kind of…?” Sam hesitated. “Unethical?”
“Come on, Sammy. He’s gotten into
something, I can feel it.” There was no way he was going to tell Sam that he
was more concerned that he’d gotten into someone.
“Fine,” Sam sighed. What are the
numbers?”
Dean gave them to him and hung up.
He hated waiting. He hoped it
wouldn’t take Sam too long to find something. There was always the possibility
Castiel hadn’t even used his card. If he was hooking up with an angel he could
be anywhere. It wasn’t like they needed to sleep or eat.
But he didn’t have to wait long at
all. Ten minutes later Sam showed up at his door, apparently feeling that he
needed to bring the results over in person. It was a bad sign.
“So, when’s the last time he used
his card?” Dean asked, already prepared not to like the answer.
“Before I tell you,” Sam said
carefully. “I want you to remember that there could be any number of reasons
for his purchases.”
“Sammy, give me the paper.”
“Just don’t get upset.”
It was too late, Dean was already
really, really upset. He took the paper and scanned down the few purchases
until he got to—
“Lakeview Motel?”
“I’m sure there’s a good reason why
he’s staying there,” Sam said.
“No, there isn’t. It’s a local
motel. The only reason anyone stays at a local motel is to do something they
aren’t allowed to do at home.” Dean wadded up the paper, intent on giving it a
future as a projectile, except that Sam rescued it from him.
Dean sank down onto the couch.
“Um, are you, all right?”
“I’m fucking peachy.”
“Maybe he just needs some time
alone,” Sam said in a way he probably thought was comforting.
“I found a feather.”
Sam was silent. Dean looked up at
his face and groaned when he realized Sam wasn’t going to be able to work that
out without help.
“It’s the angel fucking equivalent
of lipstick on the fucking collar.”
“Oh.” There was an awkward pause
where Sam did nothing but stare at him with big soulful eyes. “I don’t know
what to say.”
“Good. Then don't.” Dean stood and
moved to put his jacket on. “Are you coming?”
Sam didn’t need to ask where. “Do
you think this is a good idea?”
“I deserve to see the douchebag
that Cas likes so much better than me.”
Sam nodded. He didn’t say anything
else as he followed Dean to the Impala.
#
Dean pounded on the motel door, and
if was far too loud, he didn’t give a damn. They were lucky he didn’t kick it
in.
Castiel opened the door almost at
once. He didn’t seem surprised to see Dean standing before him, although he did
seem somewhat disappointed.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel whispered,
his body blocking the small opening in the door. “You should not have come.”
“I’m not going home until I know
what’s going on.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.
“Dean.” Castiel glanced nervously
back in the room. “Please be quiet.”
“What, got someone asleep in
there?” Dean said, pitching his voice one decibel below a shout.
“Please go home.”
The conversation was interrupted by
a sound that reminded Dean of the slow and brutal murder of a cat.
Castiel sighed, closing his eyes in
defeat and gently leaning his forehead against the door.
He exchanged a look with Sam who
only raised his eyebrows as if to say that he had no clue what that was but that it was clearly hell-spawn.
Dean was at a loss. God, he hoped
that sound hadn’t come from Castiel’s lover.
Dean pushed past Castiel who didn’t
offer any resistance. He moved with caution, no longer certain of what to
expect.
The discovery of what had happened
to their spare sheets was made as soon as he entered the room. They were
arranged in a circle on the floor like some sort of strange nest. In the center
a small blanket with yellow pandas on it was wrapped around an object about the
size of a football.
And that object was squirming.
Dean looked at Castiel, waiting for
him to say something that would make any kind of sense.
“I wanted to tell you.” Castiel
paused to pick up the squalling thing. Up close it had a remarkable resemblance
to a human infant.
“Tell me what?”
“About Mariel.” Castiel made a
shushing noise and the infant began to quiet.
“Is it human?” Dean asked and Sam
made a noise behind him as if that was somehow an inappropriate question.
“Half-human,” Castiel said.
Dean gave Sam a brief I told you
so look.
“So what’s the other half?” Dean
hoped it wasn’t a demon, or shape-shifter or any other nasty he was going to
have to talk Castiel into putting down.
“Angel.” There was pride in
Castiel’s eyes that made them seem to shine a brighter blue.
Guess Dean wasn’t the only human
banging an angel. He smirked.
“Damn it, Cas, why didn’t you tell
me about this? You know I’m willing to help with whatever your crazy family gets
involved in. As long as it’s not another apocalypse.” Although, he’d probably
help with that too.
“I was afraid you would be angry.”
“Because just disappearing, with no
explanation, wasn’t going to make me angry?” Dean turned his palms up and out,
as if spreading invisible evidence before Castiel.
“I thought you would be less
angry.”
Any amusement Dean had begun to
feel drained away at the look of guilt on Castiel's face.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
Castiel was visibly nervous now; so
much so that even Sam must have been able to see it.
“You didn’t respond well when I told
you I wanted to be a father,” Castiel said.
“What does this have to do with…?”
Dean suddenly felt too sick to finish his sentence.
“I did not intend to act against
your wishes.” Castiel looked down at Mariel, as if he was afraid to look at
Dean, as if he didn’t want to see the revelation that was underway.
“Did you steal the baby, Cas?” Sam
asked, scandalized
But Dean knew that wasn’t it. The
truth was going to be worse much, much worse.
“Cas?” Dean’s voice was soft,
reserving all of his energy for the coming storm. “Is it yours?”
“Yes.”
All the air went out of Dean’s
lungs. Sam made a noise that summed up all of the shock and dismay he felt and
as such it was the most offensive Dean had ever heard. He fought the urge to
slug the source, because he vaguely recalled that would be inappropriate. Sam
wasn’t even the messenger. His only crime was being a witness to this moment.
The one when Dean learned that because he wasn’t willing to adopt a baby,
Castiel had decided to take it upon himself to find another way.
Dean’s stomach clenched. The pain
was intense. It was as if his entire reality was being ripped away—the life they
shared, the trust, the future planned out for decades—all of it was gone. They’d
bought a damned house together. They were legally married—sure, they hadn’t
used their real identities and sure, it was only recognized in a couple of
states—but damn it, he’d thought it had meant something. But then Cas had found
another human—a woman—willing to bear his heavenly seed.
He stumbled back toward the door.
He had to get away from this room. He didn’t want to meet whoever it was,
whoever she was.
“Dean?” Castiel sounded concerned
but after what he’d done he had no right.
“I have to go.”
“Dean, wait.” Castiel took a step
toward him with one hand extended.
“Don’t, don’t say anything.” Dean
hovered on the threshold. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.”
Castiel said nothing, the look on
his face suddenly blank. His hand dropped back to his side.
Dean stormed back toward the
Impala. He heard Sam mutter an awkward goodbye before he followed him to the
car.
He didn’t wait for Sam to settle
into the passenger seat before he took off. He knew he was driving too fast, that
his handling of the car was reckless. He could tell it made Sam uneasy, but his
little brother was wise enough not to complain.
They were almost back to Dean’s
house when Sam spoke. “Dean—”
“Don’t want to talk about it,
Sammy.”
“I know, but, I’m here, in case you
change your mind.”
Dean glared at him.
“I know you really love him and I
think he still loves you. Maybe you can work past this.”
“Past Cas having a fucking baby’s
mama?” Dean made a growling noise deep in his throat. “It’s over.”
“Don’t say that.”
They pulled into Dean’s driveway
with a screech.
“Me and my friend Jack are going to
murder some brain cells tonight,” Dean said. His grip was still tight on the
steering wheel. “No one else is invited.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Just go home.” Dean noticed Sam
still wasn’t moving. “You can check on me in the morning.”
Sam hesitated but he finally went
to his own car.
Dean waved once to encourage him to
leave. Once he was gone he moved to unlock the front door.
He wondered what they’d do with the
house. Sell it probably and split whatever cash they got for it. He’d keep the
Impala of course. But then there was all the other stuff they’d amassed, the
computers, the TV, the join bank accounts. Oh God, he didn’t want to deal with
any of it at all.
As soon as he shut the door behind
him, his shoulders slumped and he collapsed against the wood. Tears started to
leak down the sides of his face. It had taken all of his concentration not to
release them in front of Sam.
#
The next morning Sam was sitting in
the emergency waiting room while Dean had his hand x-rayed. In a drunken moment
Dean had managed to punch the one brick wall in his house. Sam half suspected
he’d done that on purpose. Though he was relieved that was all he’d done. Dean,
alcohol and repressed grief had never been the best of combinations.
It had been a long time since they’d
been here. With Castiel around permanently, even the most serious of injuries
could be healed with a touch of his fingers. Under the current circumstances though,
there was no way Dean would call him. So here they were.
Sam felt the vibration of his phone
and checked the screen. He was startled to see it was Castiel.
“Hello?” Sam answered.
“Hello, Sam.” Castiel sounded
remarkably calm, considering.
“Did you need something?”
“I’m worried Dean may be upset.”
“Gee, you think, Cas?” Sam’s words
came out harsher than he’d intended.
“I wanted to tell him. But I had
difficulty finding a suitable way.”
“I don’t think there is a suitable
way. He trusted you.”
“I want to make amends.” Castiel hesitated.
“Had I realized there was any possibility of a fertile union, I would have
taken precautions.”
Sam made an involuntary noise as he
nearly dropped the phone. Would have
taken precautions? He knew angels could be calloused, but he’d thought Castiel
had gotten past that. Usually Dean was the more insensitive one of the pair.
“I had hoped that after enough time
Dean wouldn’t find Mariel’s presence to be objectionable.”
“That’s a lot to ask.”
Castiel sighed. “I was afraid of
that.”
Sam didn’t know what else to say. “When
he has time to calm down, he’ll eventually call you.”
“Sam?” Castiel’s voice sounded
tight, which, while it wasn’t much, it was something.
“What?”
“Is Dean ok?”
“As can be expected.” Sam hesitated
before saying the next part. “He broke his hand punching a wall and he’s a bit
hung over, but that’s not as bad as it could be.”
“He’s injured? Where is he?”
Castiel sounded ready to fly the moment he was given the location.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I can heal him.”
“He wouldn’t let you right now.”
The silence on the other end almost
made Sam feel sorry for him.
“He’ll be ok. I’ll call you if he
gets into serious trouble. But he needs time.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel sounded
like he meant it.
He hung up before Sam could say
anything else.
#
When Sam drove Dean home, he didn’t
tell him about the call. He didn’t want to make things worse. Even the mention
of Castiel’s name was likely to do that, let alone what he’d said.
Dean was subdued. He refused to let
Sam fill his prescription for painkillers. Sam figured it was because of their
interaction with alcohol, but he didn’t say anything.
When they arrived at Dean’s house
Sam was surprised when he was invited in.
They sat at the kitchen table,
drinking the coffee Sam had made.
“How long have I been with Cas?”
Dean asked.
“Since you started calling it that?”
Sam paused to think. “Four years? A few before that are up for debate.”
“He’s been there for me for a long
time.” Dean took a sip of his coffee.
Sam was careful to seem nonchalant.
He sensed that if he brought too much attention to what Dean was saying he
would stop.
“As a friend, as an agent of God,
as a partner—I put him through hell in the beginning. I couldn’t make up my mind.
I went through more beds than I could keep track of.” Dean stared down into his
cup. “But he was patient. He waited until I sorted it out. He must have been hurt,
frustrated, but he never gave up on me.” Dean went back to drinking his coffee.
When he finished his cup he poured himself another one.
When Dean finally spoke again Sam
did everything he could not to appear like he was hanging on every word.
“I haven’t always appreciated him.
I bitched that he made life too easy, boring. I push him away and he just takes
it. He doesn’t complain.” Dean closed his eyes. “He asked me for one thing, one
thing after all these years and I told him no. Just like that. No discussion,
no time to think about it.”
Dean opened his eyes to look at Sam,
giving a pained smile.
“He deserves better than me. I was
lucky to have him at all. If he still wants to make it work, then I’ll give it
a try.” Dean set his coffee down on the table. “Even with however he wants to
arrange things with the mother.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. He
hadn’t seen signs that there were any serious problems between Castiel and Dean.
Dean could be difficult and abrasive and Castiel could be clueless and strange,
but he’d always thought they balanced each other out. If nothing else, what
other options did they have? Who else would be willing to put up with either of
them? But maybe he didn’t know what was going on in the lives of those closest
to him as much as he thought he did.
“Will you drive me to the hotel?”
Dean asked.
Sam nodded. For Dean’s sake he
hoped Castiel was willing to work something out.
#
This time when Castiel answered the
door his eyes were red and puffy.
“Hello, Dean,” he said, his voice
thick.
Dean didn’t speak. He grabbed
Castiel by the arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. Castiel melted into him
and they held each other long past the point where Sam knew what to do with
himself.
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, and he had
never sounded like he’d meant words so much.
“Do you want to talk?” Dean asked.
“Yes.” Castiel pulled back and it
was clear from his face that he was aware of just how rare those words were
coming from Dean.
“Then let’s go inside.”
“I’ll wait in the car,” Sam said,
although neither of them seemed to hear him.
He returned to the Impala while the
two of them disappeared into the hotel room.
#
“I knew you would be angry,”
Castiel said. “So I thought I would introduce you to the idea over time. But I
haven’t been able to get away much. She is very demanding.”
“So a girl, huh?” Dean tried to act
like he was more interested than bitter. “What was her name again?”
“Mariel. I named her after your
mother, only in a form more suited for an angel. Mary could be her shortened
name, like the kind you prefer to use.”
That was a good sign. Castiel
wouldn’t want a reminder of him if he didn’t want him around anymore. At least
he hoped. Angels’ could have some pretty weird logic.
“It’s a good name,” Dean said.
Castiel’s smile was cautious. “Want
to hold her?”
He wasn’t ready for that. He’d
never felt comfortable holding newborns under the best of circumstances.
“Let me just look.” Dean came close
and peered at her face. She didn’t really look like anyone yet and for that he
was relieved. She was wrinkled and pink and mostly bald. Not the cutest of
babies, but her eyes shone a shade of blue that was beautiful, if not exactly
the same as Castiel’s.
“I know you told me we couldn’t
have children.” Castiel’s voice wavered under the mixture of emotions it held.
“But I don’t think I can part with her.”
Dean sighed. He shouldn’t have been
surprised that Castiel would think he’d ask something like that of him.
He leaned forward and kissed Castiel
softly on the lips, feeling him respond with a startled intake of breath.
“I’m sorry I’m an ass sometimes.”
Dean kissed him again. “But I wouldn’t ask you to part with her.”
Castiel level of surprise was almost
insulting. But then it was replaced by a look of rapture, as if Dean was the
most wonderful man in the world.
“So,” Dean said, needing to break
the intensity of the gaze. “How does the mother feel about all this?”
Castiel frowned, but it was one of
his “I don’t understand your reference”
frowns instead of one of regret.
“I don’t understand.”
“The baby’s mother, Cas, is she
still in the picture? I mean, does she want to be involved in Mariel’s life?”
“Mariel doesn’t have a mother.”
Dean’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Look, I’m willing to be understanding, really damn understanding under the
circumstances, but you have to start being honest with me.”
“I am being honest.”
“I’m not buying into some sort of
immaculate conception crap, because even for that, there had to be a mother.”
Castiel’s eye’s narrowed. “I think
you need more education on how reproduction works.”
He needed to learn more about
reproduction?
“So where did she come from then?”
Dean folded his arms across his chest.
“The stork brought her,” Castiel
said, as if that was a perfectly legitimate answer.
There was a long silence.
“Cas, I know where babies come
from, and that’s not it.”
“It’s how angels reproduce.”
“Are you joking? Because I’ve got
to tell you, Cas, this is one hell of an inappropriate time for that.”
“No, it came to our door the night
I left.”
Dean froze, his mind connecting
dots that had no business being connected.
“That was the knock?” Dean said. “The
‘no one?’”
“Yes.” Castiel nodded. “I assumed
you realized that when you found the feather.”
“Ok.” Dean took a deep breath.
“Just for one moment, let’s say I believe that there is a stork, and it
delivers babies. Why would it come to us?”
“I would have warned you had I realized
it was a possibility in our union. I wrongly assumed the differences between us
would have prevented it.”
“But why would…?” Dean looked hard
at Castiel then down to the baby in his arms. “Wait, are you saying she’s
ours?” For the first time in days the weight on Dean’s chest began to lift.
“Of course.” Castiel tilted his
head to contemplate Dean, as if he was trying to understand how that concept
could have been anything but obvious.
“You mean I’m a father too?” A note
of wonder had crept into Dean’s voice.
“Dean, both humans and angels
require more than one individual to create a new life.” Castiel looked like he
was about to go into another lecture on the inadequacies of Dean’s sexual
education.
“But we’ve been having sex for
years and this never happened before.”
“It doesn’t happen every time, it’s
actually quite rare. Otherwise there would be an over-population of angels.”
“Well that’s good to know, I
guess.” Dean rubbed the back of his head. “You know Cas, when I found the
feather I thought you were doing the dirty with another angel.”
Castiel’s eyes went wide.
“I would never.” He leaned toward
Dean to whisper his next words, as if he was unveiling one of the greatest
secrets of the universe. “We are married, are souls are joined in a sacred
union for the rest of our lives.”
Dean leaned back, careful not to
let his relief twitch into a smile. Not when it was likely to make Castiel
assume it was at his expense.
“Then when you said you were the
father to a half human child, I thought you’d slept with a human woman to get
her pregnant since I refused to adopt.”
Instead of looking sympathetic for
what Dean had gone through Castiel appeared offended.
“You’re opinion of me is baselessly
low and you’re reasoning is illogical. It’s been eleven days since I asked
about adoption which is not long enough for human gestation.”
“Maybe angels can accelerate things?
I’ve seen enough freaky crap not to make any assumptions. And don’t go getting
pissy on me. We’re still on Dean time here.”
Castiel’s eyes went hard with
imminent-smite. He opened his mouth but was stopped when Mariel began to fuss.
He looked down at her, visibly forced his shoulders to relax and made a few
soothing noises.
“How could you think that I would
be unfaithful to you?” Castiel said finally.
“Oh, I don’t know, things like: the
clothes, the feather, not coming home, the motel, the half-human baby. You
know,” Dean rolled his eyes, “little things.”
Castiel was quiet for a moment, his
features pensive.
“I never thought you would assume
that,” Castiel said.
“It didn’t feel too good either.”
Castiel softened. “I should have
been more forthcoming.”
“You think?” Dean snorted. “I mean,
what the hell, Cas, were you just going to hide in the hotel room until she grew
up and went to college?”
Castiel looked down as if
embarrassed. “It wasn’t a well thought out plan.” He freed a hand to reach out
and pick up Dean’s broken hand. “May I?”
“It’s been a bitch.” Dean nodded
his consent.
Dean shut his eyes against the flash
of light. The pain was gone instantly as the cast broke apart and fell to the
carpet.
“Wait, that didn’t hurt Mariel’s
eyes, did it?” Dean glanced at the bundle that seemed calm enough to indicate
that her eyes had not been melted from her face.
“She’s capable of beholding my true
form.” The pride had returned to Castiel’s voice.
“That’s good.” Dean looked down at
were his hand rested in Castiel’s. “Thanks.”
Castiel lightly kissed his
fingers.
“So are you ready to come home
now?” Dean asked.
“I would like that very much.”
Castiel nodded, a smile spreading across his features.
“Then let’s go.” Dean squeezed
Castiel’s hand before letting it go. He moved toward the door.
“There is one more thing.”
Dean froze. He slowly turned back
to look at Castiel.
“It is my understanding that it is
not safe for infants to ride in a vehicle without a form of protective seating.
I do not have such a thing.”
Dean laughed with relief while Castiel
looked at him in a way that was both patient and confused.
“We’re going to have to work on
your delivery.” Dean ignored Castiel’s inquisitive look. “We’ll send Sam to buy
a car seat. We need to pack up all the stuff you brought and check out anyway.”
“Also, her lower anatomy needs to
be cleaned and put into a new diaper.”
“We’ll let the more experienced
person take care of that.” Dean smiled. “I’m going to call Sam.”
Dean flipped open his phone and
dialed. Sam answered immediately, as if he’d been waiting.
“You will never guess who the other
parent is,” Dean said, unable to repress his grin.
Eight months later
Dean pressed his body against
Castiel’s back, his hand reaching around to caress the front of the hideous
apron.
“It’s not for you, Dean,” Castiel
said, pushing the miniature apple pie further away from Dean’s reach.
“It’s not fair.” Dean let his
breath slowly release over the back of his husband’s neck. He knew he’d succeeded
when he heard Castiel’s breath hitch.
“I won’t be manipulated,” Castiel
said.
Dean chuckled, the sound low and
throaty, as he ran his teeth along Castiel’s ear.
“Maybe I deserve a consolation
prize.”
“But Mariel—”
“Is napping.” Dean’s fingers deftly
undid Castiel’s belt and trousers, letting the material drop to the floor.
“Those were clean.”
“Not anymore.” Dean sent Castiel’s
boxer’s down to join them.
“Dean,” Castiel protested,
attempting to turn around.
Dean stilled him with an
application of teeth to where neck met shoulder. Castiel groaned, bracing his hands
on the counter. His nakedness pressed into the tightness of Dean’s jeans.
It was almost too much. It had been
too long, over two weeks since they’d done anything. Mariel always managed to
need something at just the wrong moment.
Because, yeah, she was demanding,
she was even more work than he’d thought a baby would be (probably inherited
that trait from her Uncle Sam). Not to mention that babies were expensive—even free
ones that came from stork express. The number of things she’d needed had put a
dent into their bank account that made Dean dread facing bank statements more
than the average undead.
But it was worth it. It was worth
it to spend time with a creature that had dark brown hair, a dimpled chin and
blue eyes that were slowly becoming green.
Other things had changed as well. At
first they took turns going on hunts, while one of them stayed behind to watch Mariel.
But then Castiel wanted to stay home all the time. He seemed fascinated by
Mariel’s every action and reluctant to miss even one. Or course, to an angel, a
human childhood must pass faster than a beat of their pearly—or ebony—wings.
So it was just him and Sam again,
which meant Dean got to see a lot more of the action. And having an angel one
profound bond away if things got hairy helped ensure that Mariel didn’t end up
raised by a single parent. Not that Dean had to call often, he could handle
himself. But he’d started to think that one day he might even retire; content
to know that there were other hunters, young and unattached, ready to pick up
the slack. Not that he was anywhere near ready for that yet.
But that was enough thinking,
especially when Mariel was asleep and Castiel was grinding back into him as if
it was somehow possible to will Dean’s pants off.
Actually, Castiel was the one
person that probably could.
“Do you want to go to the bedroom?”
Castiel asked.
“I’m happy here.” And he was.
“But we don’t have—”
“Shh. We can improvise.” Dean planted
a few wet kisses on Castiel’s jaw and neck until he moaned and reached back to
locate the fastening on the front of Dean’s jeans.
Dean helped him out, using one hand
to open his fly while his other one pushed Castiel down on the counter. He
pretended not to notice when Castiel pushed the rest of the baking supplies out
of the way. Although when he tried to move the olive oil, Dean reached out to
still his fingers. Because sometimes all he needed to make things work, was
closer than he expected.
