"We are not buying my future daughter a pink dress!" Dean protested, stomping his foot like a small child.
"Dean, she's a girl," Morgan argued right back. "Girls wear dresses. Especially pink ones."
This debate, among others, had been going on for nearly an hour between the two. It had been a week since Dean's phone calls with his father and brother and for a day or two afterwards, Dean's mood had reflected the outcome of those calls. So Morgan had done everything that she could think of to try and lighten his mood, and that included bringing him along to help pick things out for the baby.
She was starting to regret that decision.
"Just because the kid's a girl, it doesn't mean we have to make her into a Pretty, Pretty Princess," Dean shot back. He snarled at the offending piece of cloth that Morgan was hold up, silently willing it to burst into flames.
"Dean, this is cute," Morgan sighed. "And besides, I refuse to allow you to turn our daughter into a complete grease monkey."
Dean let out a bark of laughter at the stubborn look on Morgan's face, which in turn made the corner of her mouth turn upwards into a smirk. Both knew that the argument they were having wasn't serious in any way. It was just playful and distracting, something that Dean greatly appreciated.
"How about I make you a deal, Grey," Dean remarked slyly. "I'll let you buy that monstrosity of an outfit if you let me get the kid a leather jacket."
"You want to buy a what?" Morgan asked in disbelief.
"A leather jacket," Dean repeated. "She'll look like a little badass!"
It was Morgan's turn to laugh out loud. She could just see her child standing next to Dean, an identical smirk of pure trouble gracing their features. Rayan would be wearing a shiny black leather jacket; new and unmarred by years of wear, while Dean would still have his well-worn brown jacket. The image was enough to make Morgan smile, and quickly nod her agreement.
This must have taken Dean by surprise, because he took a step back from her with a skeptical look on his face.
"You're just going to say yes?" he questioned. "No arguments or conditions?"
"I think it will be cute," she casually replied. "Plus, I really want this dress."
Morgan could see Dean outwardly cringe as she tossed the article of clothing into their cart. Before she continued on through the section, she turned one last time to face Dean and pointed a threatening finger at his chest.
"I swear if she doesn't wear that dress at least once Dean, I am going to come back and haunt your ass."
The comment was meant as a joke, and Dean let loose a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Morgan hadn't even really thought about the comment before she spoke. She'd really just wanted to keep the light banter between the two going. Now, she realized the implications of what she had actually said.
"She'll wear it, Grey," he commented. It was obvious that he was trying to reassure her that he was going to make the decisions she was able to make now worth something after her daughter's birth. Morgan appreciated the effort. "Besides, I can use her to pick up chicks and we both know that women love a cute baby." The Dean Winchester smirk was securely plastered across his lips.
"You wouldn't dare use our kid as a way to pick up woman!" Morgan demanded with a laugh in her voice.
Dean tapped his chin with his finger, feigning contemplation before clapping his hands. "You're right. The only interested woman would be either married or grandmothers."
"Dean!" Morgan scolded, slapping his harm with her right hand.
He let out another loud bark of laughter and then grabbed the handle of the cart and started to push it down the next section of baby items with Morgan trailing behind. She was finding it very interesting to just watch Dean. Here was this young man who barely looked old enough to have kids in the first place pushing a cart filled with girlish clothes, seriously contemplating the difference between the pink binky with flowers and the blue option with the teddy bears. Morgan found it endearing.
"Can we at least get the blue?" he questioned, turning towards Morgan and holding up both options. "It's got teddy bears. They've got to be unisex or something."
"I'm going to have a tomboy, whether I like it or not." Morgan mumbled to herself, earning a shit-eating grin out of Dean.
"Afraid so, Grey," Dean replied, throwing the binky into the cart. "On to the potty training supplies!"
"Potty training supplies?" Morgan asked, baffled. "Dean, she's not going to need those until she's like…two."
"Oh, no. She's going to need them right away," Dean demanded. "I'm going to start a new trend, called 'potty training from birth' or some shit. I will not be changing diapers for the next two years of my life." His shoulders shuddered, and Morgan couldn't help the giggle that escaped her.
"Alright, hot shot. I think we should just hold off on that stuff for today, at least." She placed a hand on Dean's arm and started to tug him towards the front of the store. "I think it's time we head home anyway. My feet are killing me."
Dean was instantly around her front, hands flying all over to check for a problem. The ferocity of his concern was almost a little overwhelming, but still undeniably cute and appreciated.
"Do you need to sit down?" Dean fretted. "I could carry you out to the car, if you want. Sore feet isn't a sign of labor, right?"
"Breathe, Dean. Everything's fine," Morgan reassured him. "My feet are just tired from carrying the added weight of an extremely large watermelon around all afternoon."
"Okay, well…good," Dean replied. He straightened up and resumed pushing the cart towards the front of the store, but his sideways glances at Morgan didn't end until after they had the Impala packed and were heading back to the apartment.
It was later that night after Dean had gone to bed that Morgan was sitting in her own room with her cell phone placed in front of her on the cream colored bedspread, contemplating calling the number that she had swiped from Dean's contact list while he was unpacking the Impala. He probably wouldn't appreciate what she was about to do, but Morgan just felt so bad.
She knew it was her fault that Dean and his father hadn't spoken to each other the entire week. Or the fact that Dean got this faraway, sad look on his face whenever he thought Morgan wasn't paying attention. But Morgan also knew how she could at least attempt to make things right.
And that was how she found herself dialing John Winchester's number, and placing the ringing phone to her ear. After about three rings, a man's deep, gruff voice called our through the earpiece.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this John Winchester?" Morgan asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking with the building nerves.
"That depends on who wants to know," John replied, apprehension flowing through his voice.
"My name is Morgan Grey, sir." She paused, waiting to see if John showed any response to her name. When none came, she continued on. "I know your son, Dean."
The mention of Dean's name brought out a response in John. One that Morgan wasn't prepared for at all.
"Is he alright?" John questioned, a tone of desperation and worry sliding it's way through the receiver. "He's not hurt, is he?"
"Oh gosh, no sir!" Morgan quickly replied, trying to erase John's obvious fear. "Dean's fine. I'm well…I'm actually the girl he's currently staying with."
There was a silence on the other end, and Morgan knew John was taking in what she had just said. Then there was an audible sigh before John spoke again.
"You're the woman he knocked up." It wasn't a question, or a confirmation. It was just a plain old statement of fact. It almost made Morgan feel like a small child who had disappointed her father.
"Yes sir, I am," she replied, trying to make her voice as strong as possible. "That's actually why I'm calling."
"I'm assuming Dean doesn't know you swiped this number out of his phone," John confirmed, piecing things together.
"No, he doesn't," Morgan confirmed. "And I'm hoping that it will stay that way." She paused, trying to fit together her next words so they came out exactly like she meant them. The task was harder than she thought would be possible.
"I wanted to talk to you about Dean, Mr. Winchester. I know that you had a conversation with each other about a week ago, and that it didn't go very well. But sir, I want you to know that you should be proud of him," she paused again, willing the tears that she could feel pricking her eyes to hold off just a little longer. "Dean's handling this all like a…well like a real father. He's been here for me this last week more than anyone has for eight months. He's taking responsibility. I just…I wanted you to know that, sir."
Morgan was done. She had said her piece, and now it was John's turn to take up the conversation if her were to so choose. And god, was Morgan hoping that he would.
There was silence from John's end for a while, and Morgan would have thought he had hung up on her if it weren't for the soft breathing she could hear coming from the other end. It came as a surprise when John's voice suddenly cut through the dead air.
"Do you think he'll make a good father?"
The question caught Morgan by surprise, and it took her a moment to answer, but when she did, she made sure that there was no doubt clouding her voice.
"I think he'll be a great father, Mr. Winchester."
There was another pause before John cleared his throat and responded. "Good. I wouldn't expect any less from my son. You have a good night, Ms. Grey."
And that was the end of the conversation. There was no indication that John would call his son and work things out, or if he was going to tell Dean about her late night call. There was just a simple 'good night,' and then nothing. Morgan almost felt cheated. She'd got all worked up over that?
"Oh well," she sighed to herself. What was done was done, and she wasn't going to worry about it any longer. Instead, she crawled under the covers of her bed and attempted to get comfortable. A near impossible feat these days, what with her large baby bump?
"Mommy loves you, Rayan," Morgan whispered into the still air as she placed her hand on her stomach and fell into a light sleep.