Castiel lays in bed covered with Dean's duvet along with his own. He never thought Kansas winters could get this cold. Usually, according to the moose, they don't, and he's just being sensitive. He typically nods and turns away to roll his eyes at the hulking mass of salty hunter, but recently he had realized that his senses are indeed heightened because of a...tiny adjustment to his bodily anatomy.
Sam and Dean don't know, and Cas intends to keep it that way until he can be sure it's safe to tell them. He feels guilty, especially when he's around Dean. He's his boyfriend, he deserves to know—but, not until he's strong enough to fly again at least.
The two men are out on a routine vampire hunt, so Cas has some time to waste. He shifts his position in Dean's bed and flicks on the television, slowly but surely making his way through the vast electronic universe to the Netflix.
He searches through Dean's endless watch list of shows until he finds one that remotely interests him. Castiel pushes the button to select the episode Dean was last watching and prepares to see a comforting moment involving unicorns and faeries.
Nope. He's wrong.
Cas shields his eyes as a long dagger is thrusted through a man's throat and emerges again at the other side. He yelps in disgust and empathetic pain as he hits the pause button. As he's trying to regain his breath, he feels a presence.
Well, more like sees a presence.
A cool shade of the colour orange fills his senses and soothes his rapidly beating heart. Though he should be perturbed after seeing a wave of sunset orange fill the room, he's not. In fact, he melts into the comfort and snuggles his torso and abdomen into the duvet.
"So, I take it 'Game of Thrones' wasn't a good choice, huh?" He murmurs to the grace surrounding him.
He picks up the remote again, but promptly puts it down. If Dean's watch list has any more shows like that massacre onscreen, he doesn't want to see it. Instead, he boosts himself off the mattress and past the ajar door.
As Cas walks through the hallway past shotguns on display and Men of Letters sigils etched into walls, he shudders. He just wants his boyfriend to get home. The bunker is surprisingly lonely without the pair of big, strong, flannel-clad arms spooning him.
He hears a loud sound from the room adjacent and jumps. As his arm snakes around his abdomen in an instinctive action of panic, he feels a surge of strength and comfort waft through the bunker. Soon enough, a vibrant mist of lavender surrounds him, and he is able to continue to the foyer.
Though it sounds silly, Castiel loves when he gets scared, or hurt, or ill. He doesn't mind it so long as the colours keep appearing. It's like his own personal rainbow protecting him, like the Father he never had. He dwells on this until he realizes that his hand is still resting across his stomach, which only happens because of the loud growls emitting from within.
His steps quicken. "Hang on, little one. You're obviously half-Dean Winchester—I'm only consuming food and dealing with the taste of molecules for you, because I love you."
Castiel feels the child's grace surge through his veins and beat to the rhythm of his heart, and immediately feels safe again. His eyes pulse golden yellow and suddenly, all he can see is a silhouette of a baby with enormous wings towering above all things.
Though this thought brings him comfort, he still fears for his unborn baby's life. Nephilim are illegal and punishable by death in Heaven, and Earth has no capacity for the powerful hybrid breed. Half human, they will possess empathy, while the angelic portion will attempt to combat the mortal one.
No, he thinks—positive things only.
The baby is half-Dean, which means pie, and lots of it. The poor thing will have an insatiable appetite, but will be the most loving and loyal person on earth. They're also half-Cas, so that means rebellion and a lack of pop culture knowledge. The perfect combination.
He is pulled from his daydreams by another rumble from his stomach. Of course he's hungry. He reaches for the refrigerator door and instinctively grabs a beer, before putting it back on its shelf. He opts for the first thing to come to mind: cherries and peanut butter.
Knowing Sam and his paleo obsession, he will vomit upon seeing his housemate eating such an absurd combination. Cas, however, doesn't care; he's eating for two and now, he can't afford to skip meals.
He grabs a spoon from the drawer and plops himself down at the main banquet table in the research hall, scooping peanut butter and dropping cherries in the mix as he goes. After he pounds through an entire container of peanut butter and a jar and a half of pickled cherries, his appetite is finally satisfied.
"Your father will be home soon, Little One. He doesn't know about you, but I'm sure he'll love you just as much as I do," he assures the tiny being inside him, patting the top of his stomach bulge as he walks into the kitchen with his dishes.
Castiel hastily discards the evidence of his pregnant binge feast and hurries to grab his daily clothes. He manages to shimmy into his undershirt but fails to button his trousers. He's still dressed in Dean's oversized Led Zeppelin shirt and fuzzy bee socks as he uncontrollably breaks down in tears.
In the middle of his room he stands, a valiant angel of the Lord, unable to get his bottoms on. He wonders where he went wrong: the baby, hunting, hiding and keeping his secret, pretending nothing's wrong. Without warning, a misty blue colour fades into the room and surrounds the fallen angel in a comfortable envelope.
Unfortunately, that's when Dean walks in, shotgun cocked and ready. Sam isn't far behind, but Dean's eyes grow as wide as saucers.
"What the—Cas! Are you alright?! What the hell is this stuff, Kool Aid mix?" He screeches in a worried tone, swatting at the air.
Castiel wipes his tears and stands up, only to be met with his boyfriend's piercing gaze once the cloud subsides. After unlocking his eyes from Cas', Dean gives him a quick look down for injuries. Instead, he finds his t-shirt now tear soaked, unbuttoned trousers which are falling off the angel, and hideous novelty socks. Of course, his lover is still blubbering, so he overlooks his attire and embraces him tightly.
"Baby...what's wrong?" Dean murmurs into Cas' shoulder.
Cas shudders and cries in defeat. "I-I can't b-button my p-pants..."
The taller man has to do a double take. His boyfriend, the usually calm and collected Castiel, is sobbing uncontrollably over not being able to button his trousers. Normally, Dean would have to hold in a laugh; but now, since this is Cas, he's genuinely concerned.
"Honeybee, we'll just buy you a new pair," He soothingly strokes Cas' hair. To his surprise, the cries intensify.
Castiel locks his bloodshot eyes with Dean's flawless emerald ones. "These are my favourite pants. Why did this have to happen now?!"
Dean, though still confused, ushers the angel to the bed and quickly locks the door. Sam can't see this—he doesn't even know they're dating, let alone this close. Upon sitting down next to the blubbering mess beside him, he sweeps the hair from his face and kisses his nose.
"Cas, talk to me. Why did what have to happen now? Is something wrong?" Dean's worried whispers echo in the eerily quiet room.
Cas shakes his head, but then nods. "I-I don't know. Everything was fine, and now nothing's okay. I can't even tell you because you'll think I'm a freak."
The green eyed boy cups his lover's face with his callused hands. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me. Hell, I love you. You're the one, and I'd never, ever think you were a freak."
Cas avoids Dean's gaze, but his thoughts are interrupted by his boyfriend's question.
"Does this have anything to do with the weird floaty foggy stuff I walked in on?" He asks, an eyebrow raised.
He sniffles, but still nods. "They're reaching out to me, and I guess the only way it can is through coloured smoke. I researched it, and...well, the only two people that can see it are..."
"C'mon, Cas, it's alright," Dean coaxes.
Cas inhales deeply and takes his hand. "The only two people who can see the colours sent by the nephilim are it's parents."
Dean isn't shocked, nor is he angry. Hell, he's just confused. What's a nephilim, and why are it's parents concerned with whatever it's doing? Then, it hit him: the loud outbursts, the meltdowns, the constant snacking after millennia of fasting. He's the parent, and so is Cas. He and Cas are parents, fathers.
"Wait. You're saying that you're...and that we created a...what?"
"Yes, I am with child," he looks down in shame.
"B-but...how? We're dudes, well, you're an angel, but still." Dean thinks out loud, absentmindedly playing with his collar.
Cas wipes a tear from his eye. "It just h-happened...I-I'm sorry, I know you don't want kids—"
"No...Cas, I want kids more than anything. Don't worry about me. Are you and the..."
"Nephilim."
"Right, the nephilim alright? Can I just say baby? Nephilim sounds weird. Are you and our baby okay?" He rambles excitedly.
Cas' eyes light up for the first time at the sound of his boyfriend calling the baby theirs, and he nods with a smile. "They're growing, developing their own grace, wings, and soul, just as they should. Y-you're okay with this?"
"Of course I am, Honeybee. I mean, the poor thing is half me, and I apologise in advance, Little One, and they're also half you. I can't wait to buy little combat boots and flannels...oh man, a toddler rock salt gun!"
"Let's save that for their teen years," Castiel giggles.
"Fine. I'm so excited! Whoa, will they be able to fly?!" Dean paces and pulls Cas onto the bed with him.
Cas nods with a stupid happy grin on his face. "Our child will do everything a seraph can do and more. They'll be the perfect mix of the two of us, Dean."
The taller boy's eyes flash a joyful green, and he clasps his hand in Cas'. He allows his eyes to shift down to his baby bump, which he has never noticed before. It's...incredible. To have a child, even though they're not there yet.
With his free hand, he rubs his thumb over Cas' belly button and lowers his head to kiss the bump. How could Castiel ever think he would call him a freak?!
After all, the little miracle is simply two souls mixing into one.