Rating: PG13
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Warnings: MPREG, possible English mistakes
Spoilers: none.
A/N: Well with it being April Fools Day and all, I really couldn't help but write this little, sort of festive idea just happened to pop into my head. It's a little cheesy, yeah, but here it is! I hope you enjoy! :)
Castiel is leaning back against Dean's chest, contently settled between the hunter's legs and leaning into the soothing hand that's brushing gently through his hair.
He hums quietly in approval as he stretches his arms before settling to rest a hand on his swollen belly.
The sunlight seeping in through the window is illuminating a large portion of the couch, and the baby seems to agree that the warmth it's giving feels absolutely amazing.
That, in unison with Dean combing through his hair in just the right way, couldn't possibly have Castiel more content.
"So, you haven't done anything to get back at me yet," Dean comments.
The angel frowns slightly, recalling the events from earlier that day.
"I don't find it necessary that I do so," he says, adding the next part with a bought of annoyed sarcasm, "I believe the immense amount of guilt you feel is a nearly suitable punishment… although I'm still keeping my promise to abstain from sex."
The hunter lets out a quiet laugh, "Cas, you couldn't have sex right now if you wanted to."
The angel's frown deepens.
"Then perhaps it's necessary that I continue to withhold after the baby is born."
Dean shifts beneath him and whines.
"Hey c'mon, Cas. All I did was put salt in your tea. That's not so bad, especially in comparison to what I used to do Sammy on April Fools Day," Dean argues.
"It was a cruel joke that ended in a very unpleasant experience."
Castiel can't see the hunter's now very guilty expression, but he notices the sudden lack of movement in Dean's hand and misses the feeling of gentle fingers sifting through his hair.
"Hey, I said I'm sorry, man. I didn't think you were actually going to swallow it—"
"It has nothing to do with ingestion, Dean," the angel counters, "It's the taste, and I had already been feeling nauseous to begin with."
There's an awkward silence for a long moment before Dean occupies his hands once again.
"I really do feel bad, man," Dean says quietly.
Castiel turns and leaves a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm sure I will find a way to forgive you," he assures with a small smile.
He couldn't possibly stay angry with Dean when the hunter is basically massaging his head like this.
The angel hums quietly, low and soft, as he moves his hand down lower on his belly.
"Is he moving?" Dean asks curiously, noticing the change in position.
Castiel shakes his head.
"Just shifting slightly. You wouldn't be able to feel it."
He relaxes back into the warmth of the hunter's body, and it's hardly a few minutes later before he's fallen asleep there.
Dean continues to watch him and stroke his hair, and even in his sleep, Castiel leans into the touch.
The sun is mostly down when Dean wakes up. He doesn't remember dozing off, but suddenly Cas is calling his name and trying to shake him awake.
"Dean," he tries again, voice sounding frightened and strained.
"Cas…?" the hunter mumbles, still groggy, "What's the matter?"
The angel squirms uncomfortably for a moment, then tenses.
"It hurts, Dean," he manages, voice barely above a whisper, "I think - I think it's—"
Castiel stops as another sharp wave of pain comes over him. Dean sits up, gripping the angel's shoulder worriedly.
"Is it the baby?" he asks, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.
Cas manages a small nod, cringing all the while.
"Dean," he half whines, half sobs, "Why is this so painful? I don't believe this is supposed to—"
He doubles over, and Dean suddenly backs away from him, sending a skeptical look in the angel's direction.
"Ha ha, very funny, Cas," he says sarcastically, slightly annoyed.
Castiel remains curled up, quivering.
Several long moments pass without any kind of response from the angel.
"Alright, Cas, joke's over," the hunter tries again, mostly in attempt to reassure himself this time.
"Dean, I can assure you that this is not a joke. I believe I may be—"the angel tenses again, biting his lower lip to hold back a whimper, "—Dean, I think I am going into labour."
He's shaking violently , and every passing second discourages Dean's reluctantly discarded theory that Cas might have been faking this.
"Shit," he mutters before reaching forward and tentatively placing a hand on the angel's shoulder, "Christ, you're not joking, are you…"
Castiel puffs a few shallow breaths, lifting his head to look at the hunter, genuine pain evident in his eyes.
"I am not," he affirms, before another sharp stab sends him doubling over again.
He's unable to hold back the pained sob that escapes him.
"Dean, I am not."
Part two, anyone? Let me know what you think! (;