Don't worry! The honeymoon chapter is coming! I'm just doing a lot of imaginary trip planning and contemplating a little adventure subplot.

In the meantime - since there was interest in more spicy stuff - here's a fun little collection. These are all set in Season 8.

I present: 2 times Dean and Sophie successfully conceived a baby, and 3 they didn't.

This will be 5 chapters :)

Enjoy!

It was a truly awful motel. One of the worst they'd ever stayed in. None of them had so much as touched the bedspreads or the couch, let alone gotten beneath the sheets.

Bedrolls on top of the blankets would just have to do.

Dean had tried, repeatedly, to get Sam to upgrade his kit. But it's like the kid thought of sleeping as a penance. Something that just should, by nature, be as deliberately uncomfortable as possible.

And as for Dean. He hadn't slept right since hell. Didn't matter if he was on the couch or in a bed. Didn't what the mattress or the sheets were like. Didn't matter if he had Sophie in his arms. Didn't know if he ever would again.

But Sophie. He always made sure she was comfortable.

He remembered her face the first time he'd brought her to an abandoned building and called it home. Verbally, she was all in. But her eyes told a different story. So that night, while she pored over a scrubbing algorithm trying to find a source for an angry spirit in the town's online death records, Dean drove until he found a camping store and did his best to scrounge up something better than Sam's army surplus and the old blankets Dean kept for himself in the trunk. He succeeded. And when he got home that night with a simple closed-cell ultralight sleeping pad and two quilts he'd bought off the owners' mother-in-law, Sophie's smile was so bright it nearly blinded him.

And tonight, well, the fertility app on Sophie's phone said it was a good day. And they'd been trying to make a baby for months now.

So Dean snagged a few spare towels off a maid's cart and laid them on top of his usual rough-spun blankets. They weren't skipping out.

They also hadn't told Sam.

Which Dean worried could complicate matters.

That is until he heard his brother casually mention to Sophie that he had to wash his hair that night, and that he was thinking he should shave off the scruff.

Bingo.

Knowing Sam that'd take at least forty minutes.

That was their window.

He heard Sam turn on the tap and then heard him cue up that singer-songwriter crap on his phone.

Dean grabbed Sophie's wrist and started undoing the buttons of her shirt.

"Okay," he said, "We've got at least half an hour. But we're gonna be polite about this and get it done in fifteen minutes just in case."

"Yes sir," Sophie murmured as he bent down to kiss her, reaching around to unfasten her skirt. Tights came off next, then panties. They were in a hurry, so he left her unbuttoned shirt and her bra in their places, and kept his own clothes on.

He'd learned, over the years since their marriage, that Sophie wanted him to be a little rough and very assertive. After years of one-night partners, where that kind of experimentation was liable to get the cops called on him, it was an exciting change. They'd settled into it now. And it was comfortable. Normal. Perfect.

He kissed her until she was soft and flushed and pliable in his arms then sat down on the bed, pulling her into his lap with her back to his chest. He knew it wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world for her, but he also knew that the angles worked fantastically. And the better the angles worked the more likely they were to make a baby.

Sophie yelped and Dean clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Gotta be quiet for me baby," he whispered, "I know. I know it hurts. I'm sorry baby."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and relaxed into him, head falling back against his shoulder and fingers grasping clumsily onto the hem of his shirt.

Dean kept a ready ear on the sounds from the bathroom. He figured they still had time. It'd only been seven minutes so far. Shower was still running. Sarah Barellis was still crooning.

He moved his hand but Sophie shook her head.

"Help me be good?" She whispered, eyes closed.

"Of course baby," he assured her, putting his hand over her mouth again, "You just stay relaxed and quiet and I'll take care of everything. Promise."

And he kept that promise.

He could feel hot tears on his hand after a while. He kept checking in. She kept saying it was fine. To keep going. She knew what to say to make him stop. But Sophie was nothing if not determined.

"Almost there baby," words were harder now, his voice tight and strained, "You're doing so good for me baby. We're really close."

And it was at that moment that Dean heard the bathroom door open. The water was still running. Music was still on. What the hell?

He knew he had a matter of seconds to get them both decent before Sam turned that corner. Summarily ruining everything.

Sophie was dazed with pain and endorphins, so he didn't try to move her. He just hurriedly took his hand from her mouth and wrapped one of the spare towels up and around them both. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, holding her head to his chest, crossing his fingers she was hazy enough that this wouldn't put an end to hotel room sex for the foreseeable future. He was indescribably grateful to his past self for keeping his own clothes and Sophie's shirt in place. A glimpse of her bra wouldn't kill Sam.

Dean sighed with something akin to relief as Sam stepped around the corner, towel slung low around his hips. It was entirely clear what Dean and Sophie were up to. But at least his brother wasn't about to see anything genuinely graphic.

"Really man?" Dean chided, checking his watch as Sam's eyes went wide, "It's been what…thirteen minutes?"

He looked his brother over, there was still shaving cream on his face.
"You're not even…" Dean trailed off and shook his head. Sophie shifted uncomfortably in his lap. He glanced down and saw her glaring at Sam, brow furrowed.

"I'm the one you're mad at right now?" Sam countered, "You're the one having sex while I'm home!"

"With my wife!" Dean clarified, "While you were in the bathroom. And based on every documented observation so far…due to keep being in that bathroom for another twenty minutes at least. We were being quiet. We were being polite. I kept an ear out in case you shut of the shower or your music…"

"You know what," Sam raised his hands in defeat, "That's fair. That's fair. And I'm sorry. Just give me some warning next time?"

He glared at his brother.

"Fine," Dean said, "I'm sorry too."

"Sorry Sophie," Sam called over his shoulder, grabbing something from his bag and heading back to the bathroom.

Sophie shifted in Dean's lap again, whimpering. But this time there wasn't arousal in the sound, just discomfort.

"Hey," Dean murmured, "You're good. It's okay."

"I had land in South Dakota," Sophie muttered into his chest, "With a house that was just mine. Just mine."

She rubbed her eyes.

"I'm assuming you don't want to try and finish things?" Dean asked, carefully and gently starting to get them disentangled.

"I want to sleep in the car tonight," Sophie replied.