Just another little chapter that came to mind but with a much happier ending and a little progress on Castiel's side this time.
Mockingbird
Her first word is "dada," but it ends up that the normally joyous occasion is met with mixed emotions when it becomes painfully obvious that her forest green eyes are clearly seeking out yours and not Dean's.
Of course, for the sake of Allison, neither of you react with disappointment or frustration (or anything else Dean is possibly feeling because you are surprisingly numb), instead you watch him scoop her out of the high chair, kiss both pudgy cheeks and praise her as he settles her on his hip. You yourself even manage a soft smile and ruffle the chocolate colored curls on her head, mostly because her eyes are still locked on yours, crinkled around the edges from the giggles escaping her lips. You keep quiet as Dean walks out of the room after that despite the urge to call out to him and assure him it was a mix up, she didn't mean to call you dada the first time and it was merely a slip but his steps are far quicker than they normally are. A sure sign that someone's feelings have been hurt and you know it wasn't yours.
Late in the afternoon, almost six hours since the breakfast incident, Allison is down napping and Dean is busy in the basement, the thud of the washing machine against the wall barely audible from your spot on the couch, TV remote in hand. He's been avoiding you, spending most of his time that wasn't devoted to Allison on chores that he would normally put off until you would realize they would never get done before you set off to do them yourself. But so far today you've found a sink full of shining dishes, a vacuumed hallway and bedrooms and soon you will find stacks of freshly folded clothes in your dresser drawer and for some reason that worries you more than it should.
As quietly as you can you heave yourself off the couch, tiptoeing down the hallway past the nursery and to the steps leading downstairs. You never really liked the basement, it was cold and dim and over all depressing despite the carpeted floor and the TV Dean insisted be put up on the far wall in front of two leather recliners.
"Every man needs a man cave," he had said.
The washer and dryer are on the opposite side of the room, pushed back against the wall beside a rack that holds the fruity smelling detergent you love (that Dean always rolls his eyes at) and industrial strength stain remover for Dean's work clothes because let's face it, grease is a bitch to get out.
Dean is situated in front of the dryer, the door propped open against his leg as he folds impossibly tiny baby clothes with surprising care. Clearing your throat manages to catch his attention when you fail to find the words, his head snapping up in one jerky movement and when he sees you he just nods his head.
"Hey."
You scoff and fold your arms. "Hey?"
He sneers, but his eyes are hurt.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Hey Dad."
Shit.
Immediately upon sensing his anger you let your arms fall back to your sides with a dull smack and your eyes melt into pools of ice blue apologies that he readily tries to avoid.
"Don't Cas. Just don't, please."
He's begging you, jaw clenched tightly as if he was fighting the urge to just scream his frustrations (you are almost positive that if there wasn't a sleeping baby upstairs that's exactly what he would do) as he braces himself against the dryer and draws in shuddering breaths.
You haven't seen Dean this upset in a long time, back when you first started dating and the first fight ended up being over his wandering eyes and a bleach blonde woman with a tramp stamp. Apparently jealousy doesn't suit you and Dean doesn't appreciate accusations of his loyalty being thrown his way, but of course this was nothing like that time and you know a simple round in the sheets (he likes it angry on occasion) isn't going to fix anything.
This is personal, it's family and memories and despite his insistence that you are as much of a father to Allison as he, you haven't been as much of an influence on her as he has. Or at least that was what everyone thought.
You inch closer and lower your voice to a whisper when he doesn't move. "It doesn't mean anything Dean. So she happened to look my way when she said it, that doesn't make you second best to her or anyone else. We all know you work damn hard to take care of her and if she were older she would appreciate it…just, don't shut me out because of this. Please."
"I'm never gonna shut you out," he says in a gravelly voice that sends shivers through you. "I just…I guess I'm jealous is all."
His shoulders begin to shake with laughter at his own confession, the tremors deepening when he sees your face and you realize your jaw is hanging open and your eyes are as wide as a cartoon characters. Ever since you met Dean Winchester you have been jealous. Of his looks, of his compassion, his confidence hell even his car; Everything Dean had you wanted and if you were honest the fact is still true today when you realize that most of the admirable things in your life were his.
There's the house, you begin to say but then you remember it was in Dean's name, bought long before you came along.
The house, the impala, even the furniture was all Dean's.
Of course, even though you've been denying it since day one, there was always…
Oh.
And that's when reality (always late of course) smacks you in the face like a flyaway ball.
All this time spent wishing you had what he did, pining over green eyes and beautiful cars, you never realized that now you did have something Dean had and while it wasn't really visible to you until right now it was true because he warmth that suddenly spreads through your chest when you think of her is impossible to ignore.
When the breath hitches in your throat you clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, locking eyes with Dean who just seems confused as his brow deeply furrows. He stands up straight and looks ready to shake you silly, bring you back to your senses and tell him exactly what the hell was going on. Thankfully though, you recover in time just as his hands begin to grip your shoulders and you flick your gaze up to his and feel your lips stretch into a full blown smile.
"I'm her dad," it comes out as a statement, bewildered and slightly shocked.
Dean looks unimpressed by your sudden revelation and just slowly nods his head, voice bordering on sarcastic. "Yeah Cas. I've been trying to get that through your brain for almost a year."
"And you're jealous? That she called me dad first? Not angry or upset?"
This time he lets out an exasperated sigh and throws up his hands. "Yes Cas. I'm jealous, not angry or upset or anything else that is synonymous with mad. But if you ask me one more stupid question I may have to reconsider that answer."
"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, "I guess I just sort of realized something I should have a long time ago."
This time Dean smiles, leaning forward and planting a rough kiss on your lips, tasting like coffee and something that is strictly and undeniably Dean and when he pulls back you grasp the back of his neck and bring him back for more.
It lasts about forty seconds until a hearty wail from the floor above shreds the silence and Dean sprints up the stairs before you can even blink.