Cas's Logical Sequel, Chapter 03
By CastielLovesDean
A/N: This chapter is just one of the many reasons I am never having kids. The first person who says otherwise is getting salted and burned.
Here I am, waiting to watch the damn season finale because it's not showing in Chicago until Sunday and those inconsiderate assholes didn't give us a legal means to see it. I hate the CW. I'm telling you: everyone's lucky that I'm far too lazy to live out some of my more violent fantasies.
WARNINGS: Now rated M! Yay!
December 29th, 2011
Four days after Christmas, Dean awoke to a blinding pain in his stomach. His initial brief thought was that something was wrong with Samantha, but he soon recognized the feeling as ravenous hunger. He groaned dramatically.
Castiel, who never slept and rarely stayed with Dean the entire night, was instantly at his side. "Are you ill?" he asked, worry gracing his alien face.
"No, I'm starving!" he bitched. "I swear I'll die if I don't get something to eat right now."
"Would you like me to-"
"Get Sam or Bobby to make something." Before Cas could disappear, Dean grabbed his sleeve. "Ya know what? Get Bobby to make something; I'm not in the mood for a bran muffin with a side of rabbit food."
Castiel didn't bother asking why Sam would feed him food intended for rabbits. Instead, he was standing next to Bobby's bed in an instant, startling the poor elderly Hunter awake and nearly into a heart attack.
"What the Hell, Cas!" Bobby hollered, clutching his chest. Dean wasn't the only one with a flair for the dramatic. "Dontcha know better than ta scare an ol' man like that!"
"Your entire life's pursuit involves being the thing scary things fear. I think you'll live."
"And I think you been spendin' too much time wit' Dean." Bobby swung his fully-functional (yay!) legs over the edge of the bed and looked around for some pants. "Whaddaya want, Cas?"
"Dean woke up very hungry. He would like you to cook him breakfast."
Bobby stopped getting dressed with only one leg in his pants. "Yer pullin' my leg."
"I... have not touched your leg."
"He expects me ta feed 'im? Isn't that why he has a brother and a... baby daddy?"
Cas looked forlorn. "My cooking skills are unsatisfactory. Also, he fears Sam will feed him rabbit food."
Bobby snorted and finished putting his pants on. "Okay. Fine. But yer helpin'."
Cas bit his lip anxiously, a human habit he'd picked up somewhere. "Very well." He popped back to the panic room. Dean wasn't there. He followed his instincts to the nearest bathroom, where he found Dean had locked himself on the other side of the door. He teleported inside. "Dean?"
"Jeezum Crow!" Dean shouted from in front of the toilet. "Do I have to put a freaking bell around your neck?"
"I'm sure that's not necessary."
"Is there some reason you have to watch me pee?"
"I merely wanted to inform you that Bobby said he'd make breakfast for you if I helped. Come to the kitchen when you're ready."
Before Dean could respond, Castiel was gone from the small bathroom. Dean couldn't believe how long he peed. After what he was sure must have been, like, an hour of peeing, he tucked himself back into his underwear and wandered back to his temporary bedroom. He picked a pair of jeans up off the floor and put them on, one leg at a time. But when it came time to zip his fly, he couldn't even get the slider halfway up the chain. "What the Hell?" he mumbled to himself as he pulled harder on the tab. He tried buttoning them – no dice. The buttons wouldn't get closer than an inch apart. Sucking in didn't work, either. "God damn it," he whined to himself, shucking the pants from his legs and throwing them at the floor. He stood there in his boxers, brainstorming what to do about his tragic lack of pants. He didn't have anything with a stretchy waistband, and while he figured Bobby might have something, he didn't have access to Bobby's clothing. He'd have to just go upstairs in his boxers.
Freaking perfect.
Well, at least it was just the five of them; the worst flak he should get would be from Gabriel. "Hey, Bobby, do you have any – oh, hi, Marcy." Dean hid behind a chair. "Didn't see ya there," he chuckled anxiously.
Marcy eyeballed him lecherously. "Hi there, Dean. You don't have to hide from me, you know. You don't have anything I haven't seen before."
"Uh-huh." He smiled self-consciously, wondering if she'd ever seen a baby bump on a man before. Probably not. "That's nice. I'll just... go in the kitchen. Cas and Bobby are cooking breakfast, so... yeah." He turned and scurried into the kitchen, where Castiel was preparing to fry some bacon. Yum.
"Dean! What's the matter with you, boy?" Bobby demanded. "Were you raised by wolves er somethin'? Why aintcha wearin' any pants?"
Dean's lip quivered. "They don't fit anymore," he pouted.
"Well, ya can't go runnin' around in yer skivvies!"
"I don't mind," Castiel offered.
"Ooh, me either!" Gabriel shouted. Dean couldn't tell if he'd been hiding there all along or if he just popped in.
"Don't go getting dressed on my account," Marcy begged as she entered the kitchen, adding with a wink, "I'm enjoying the view."
Dean was feeling very self-conscious.
Finally, someone disagreed: Sam sauntered in from the other kitchen entrance and complained, "Dude, put some clothes on! No one needs to see that!" Unfortunately for the oblivious sasquatch, his remark was met with a round of hisses and boos from everyone except Bobby.
"Sammy, my pants don't fit anymore. Can I borrow a pair of yours?"
"Aww," Sam cooed with a big grin. "Sure, man, just go get 'em from my room."
"No wonder your pants don't fit, honey; it looks like someone's growing a little spare tire!" Marcy giggled as she tickled Dean's bump.
Dean ran from the kitchen and up the stairs to Sam's room, hoping everyone just thought he was putting on Sam's pants and not crying like a little girl. He sniffled pitifully as he dug through Sam's duffel bag and came up with a giant pair of jeans. He put them on, then inspected himself silently, noting the way they hung low on his hips and his feet were stepping on the hems. Great. He looked like a small child trying on his daddy's clothes. And for some reason, he still felt like curling into a little ball and sobbing. He fanned his face with his hands as he tried to control his breathing and hoped he wouldn't deteriorate into a full-blown cry.
Gabriel popping in didn't help matters. "So, are you going for the child-trying-on-Daddy's-clothes look or the badass-gangsta-with-low-riding-jeans look? Cause I gotta say, 'pregnant man' doesn't scream badass." As if that weren't bad enough, Sam's too-large pants fell to his ankles of their own accord.
It all became too much for Dean, and the dam broke. He put his head in his hands and started sobbing loudly, pants at his ankles. The air in the room whipped around to the sound of flapping wings, and suddenly, Cas was there instead of Gabriel.
"Dean? Why are you crying?"
"I'm n-not," he lied with a sniffle.
"Lying is a sin, Dean. Now tell me: what's wrong?"
"W-well, first m-my pants wouldn't f-fit... then Marcy called me f-fat and poked my b-b-b-bump... then Gabriel was m-mean to me, and m-m-my pants fell because Sammy's pants are too b-big on me..." He sniffled some more, though he felt calmer than a moment earlier. "It's s-s-stupid, I know."
Cas thought a moment about how to handle this. "Well, Dean, you know Gabriel's an ass."
"I kn-know..."
"And you're not fat, you're pregnant."
Dean's crying worsened. "Then I do look fat!" he yelled.
Cas blinked, not sure what to say. He honestly thought logic would work. Hmm... time for flattery; that tends to work on Dean. "Of course not," he insisted. "You look gorgeous."
"R-really?"
"It was all I could do to restrain myself from ravishing you in front of everyone." Okay, that part wasn't entirely true, but Cas really did think Dean looked best in less.
"You're just saying that," Dean argued with a sob.
"Then it must have been a conspiracy because everyone but your brother was 'saying that.'"
"Not Bobby." Dean wiped a tear from his face.
Cas didn't even have to make this part up. "He didn't want Marcy to see you in such a state of undress, lest she compare you to him next time they're intimate. You're an attractive, virile young man, Dean. You made your older friend feel like less of a man compared to you." Dean snorted in vain triumph, but still couldn't meet Castiel's eye. Cas still had one move left. He stepped into Dean's personal space and wrapped his arms around the man in a comforting (he hoped, as well as not at all awkward) hug. When Dean returned and tightened the embrace, Cas thought his attempt to comfort Dean had worked, but as Dean's hand traveled to his ass, he thought maybe it worked a little too well. He soon found himself on the receiving end of a very insistent open-mouth kiss as he was walked backward and flung upon the queen-sized bed. "Dean?" Cas asked as Dean climbed atop him.
"Yeah, baby?"
That was weird. Dean wasn't really one for cliché nicknames in the heat of passion. "Are we going to have sex?"
"That's the plan." Dean shoved Cas's trenchcoat and jacket off his shoulders and tore his dress shirt open, sending little translucent buttons about the room.
"You do realize this is Sam's bed."
"Mm-hmm." Dean couldn't be bothered to stop kissing Castiel's neck, collarbone, whatever he could reach as he quickly divested Castiel of all his clothes.
"Dean... I feel I should warn you that Gabriel is hiding in the corner." There was a rustle from the corner of the room as if Castiel had somehow betrayed Gabriel.
"That's okay," he shrugged, barely able to pull his lips from Castiel's alabaster skin long enough to speak, let alone notice the shocked expression on his face. "Let him watch." With a double-pat of his left hand, Dean wordlessly invited Gabriel to sit on the edge of the bed. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Gabriel complied.
No one explicitly pointed out that Castiel hadn't exactly consented to this little bit of impromptu exhibitionism, but since he wasn't arguing otherwise, everyone just went with it. It took a minute to get in the full swing of things, what with both Angels feeling a bit awkward with the situation; Cas because he wasn't expecting an audience and he kept glancing nervously toward Gabriel, and Gabriel because voyeurism was only fun since he thought Dean didn't know he was being watched, and that if he did, he'd be furious.
The awkwardness didn't last long. Once Dean set up a proper rhythm, he did that little move that Cas liked, predictably causing the Angel to arch his back and mewl. Dean loved that noise, a noise he'd only discovered a week or two previously. He chuckled as he made Cas mewl again, then huskily breathed, "I love that noise. It drives me crazy."
Gabriel smiled. "Have you tried," he started aloud, then finished the rest with a whisper in Dean's ear.
Dean hadn't, in fact, tried that. He wasn't concerned that it was a trick because he knew that Gabriel held sex in high honor and wouldn't want to tarnish it. He tried the new move. Castiel's body contorted unnaturally, and this primitive, guttural noise Dean had never heard in his life came from Cas's throat. Dean slowed cautiously, not sure if that was really good or really bad.
"And that, my boy, is what it sounds like then they're not faking it."
Dean stopped and stared at Gabriel in shock and horror. "He doesn't fake it!"
Castiel came to his senses before Dean and Gabriel could get into a big argument during sex, propping himself up on an elbow to take control of the situation. "You!" he sharply bellowed with a finger pointed at Gabriel. He snapped his fingers, and Gabriel was gone. Then he turned his attention to Dean, grabbing the Human by his hair. "And you. Stop chatting, keep moving, and do. That. Again." Cas collapsed back on the bed and waited for Dean to comply.
And comply he did.
Afterward, his stomach was growling again, so he went back downstairs. As soon as he stepped through the doors like Clint Eastwood into a saloon, he was accosted by the normally delicious scent of bacon. 'Normally' because this time, it churned his stomach with such a ferocity that no food poisoning or asshat-induced stage-four stomach cancer ever had. He sprinted to the nearest bathroom and heaved bile into the toilet. Eventually, he was just dry-heaving all the nothing he'd had in the last several hours.
Only then, when tears were streaming down his face and his stomach felt like he'd gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson, did Sam show up with a tray of assorted foods and beverages. "Here, rinse your mouth out with this," he offered, handing dean a bottle of water, "and see if eating this helps." He handed him... Dean had no idea what the Hell it was. "What the Hell is that?"
"It's ginger. It's supposed to help with nausea."
Dean heaved again, then took a sip of water and ate the piece of ginger. He put an extra effort into not chucking it up right away, hoping to give it the chance to work, but to no avail. The ginger wound up in the toilet. "What else you got?"
Sam gave him some crackers. They didn't work. Just as the next three or five or twenty-nine things didn't work. Dean was sure he'd die vomiting. At least he'd have something in common with a handful of rock legends. Finally, Sam handed him a bottle of RealLemon lemon juice.
"Nuh-unh," Dean complained. "It probably won't work anyway, and I hate lemons." He retched.
"Try it, you stubborn jerk."
Dean took the juice with a scowl. "Better than a stubborn bitch," he mumbled petulantly and took a sour swig from the bottle. It took all his courage, but he swallowed the load in his mouth. He waited a couple seconds. A couple seconds turned into a couple minutes. He took another fast gulp of the lemon juice, and his nausea didn't seem to be coming back.
"Hey!" Sam exclaimed. "It looks like it's working!"
"Yeah, but now my mouth tastes like lemons!" His stomach really did feel loads better. "And I have to pee. Get out." Dean couldn't believe how long he peed, especially considering that it had only been about an hour since he'd last relieved himself. He brushed his teeth, downed some more lemon juice, then, stomach growling, went back to the kitchen. By then, bacon smell had dissipated, and he was able to pour himself some Lucky Charms without throwing up at sight or smell of the sweet children's cereal. About halfway through his fourth bowl, Gabe appeared at the fridge, bent over and searching inside.
Gabriel noticed before Dean that said Hunter was inadvertently staring at the Archangel's behind. "See something you like?" Gabe asked with a creepy leer, then disappeared as Dean blushed and stammered.
Dean lost his appetite for Lucky Charms as his appetite for something else came roaring back with a vengeance. "Cas!" he called out in a panic.
Castiel appeared immediately. "What's wrong?"
Dean grabbed his arm and fervently ordered, "Panic room. Now." As soon as they were in the panic room, Dean was once again on top of Castiel, pinning him to their bed. Dean needed Cas so bad, he felt like he would explode. The time it took just to get his belt off was excruciating, and for a moment there, he wondered if he would ever experience non-horniness again. He aggressively made love to – okay, fine: he fucked Castiel into the mattress harder than he ever had any of his partners. It didn't take nearly as long as usual to reach release, but when he did, he was still rock-hard and aching for more. When Cas assumed they were done and went to sit up, Dean shoved him back down and growled, "Where the Hell are you going?"
Castiel had put up with a lot of shit from Dean in the time he'd known him – shit he didn't need to put up with since he could easily (and at one time did, come to think of it) pound him into submission. While the part of his brain that still thought like an Angel badly wanted to put Dean in his place, the part that thought like a human thought Dean's bossiness was kinda (very) sexy, and yet another part pointed out that Dean had little control over himself because of his wacky hormone levels. He allowed Dean to trap him against the bed and meekly responded, "I assumed we were finished. I was mistaken."
"Damn right you were," Dean agreed, crushing Castiel's mouth with his own with what would have been bruising force on anyone but an Angel, then picking up where he left off. He had his way with Castiel again, this time only slightly less frantic. By the time he climaxed, he was shaking, sweating, and panting with the exertion, but still sporting The Erection That Wouldn't Quit.
His damn Angel was only slightly ruffled. "You seem tired."
Dean gasped for air. "You kidding? I'm fine."
"Would you like me to be on top?" Cas offered.
"What? Eew! No! What if you poke the baby?"
For a second, Cas thought he must have misheard. "...Poke her?"
"Yeah. You know, with your..." He finished with an obscene gesture.
Cas could hardly believe his ears. "Dean, that is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said. I can assure you that almost no one is that well-endowed, and those that are would be prevented from 'poking the baby' by the mother's own soft tissue in any stage of pregnancy prior to labor."
"But-"
"You may be on top, of course, but let it be due to your own preference rather than absurd conjecture."
Dean fretted internally for longer than Cas cared to wait. Finally, he double-checked, "You really wouldn't poke the baby?"
Cas sighed. "No, Dean, I wouldn't poke the baby."
Thanks to his mortal fatigue yet overly vigorous and medically curious sexual stamina, Dean acquiesced. Three orgasms later, Little Dean was finally satiated. Dean's stomach made an awful churning sound. "Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"Don't take this personally." He threw himself off the bed and heaved his breakfast into a wastebasket.
The constant puking, peeing, mood swings, and insatiable hunger for both food and sex went on for weeks. It wasn't until his thirty-third birthday that it got better, but when it did, Dean thought it must have been a birthday gift from God, because it was much, much better.
AN: I thought I'd bring attention to a tragic national/worldwide folly: men everywhere actually think they'll "poke the baby." Please spread the word that that won't happen. Lol, dumbasses. I swear, if the men that lead most of the world didn't have wives telling them what to do, we'd all be dead by now.