I don't know what possessed me, but as soon as Baby stopped purring, I straddled Dean like a horse and kissed him passionately, teeth grazing his. In my head, I had to have him, that was how hot and bothered I was. My hands all over him like Medusa's snakes on her head. I want to feel his skin under my fingertips, to rip his black shirt that was keeping me from him. When that didn't work, I cupped his face and pulled him to me, his luscious, wet lips on mine like it was yesterday. His scent engulfed me, the slight taste of mint from his gum on my mouth, trying to hide the burger he had a few hours ago at some no-name burger joint we ate at.

He reacted in kind. His calloused hands on my hips as I gyrated and writhed above him, with his hips hurriedly meeting mine. He was caught by surprise, but he didn't fight it. He might have wanted it, too. Our tongues colliding, fighting. If I can taste him, I wondered if he tasted the strawberry creme saver I had earlier. But whatever other thoughts I had was replaced by my libido. I was getting impatient, fighting with his damn shirt. My right hand finally found its way, brushing against his sensitive nipples, which made his body shudder, a deep moan escaping. That made me even want him more.

I could feel my heart racing, blood roaring in my ears as my mouth and hands explored him. Under my touch, I could feel his heartbeat, erratic as mine, even goosebumps littering all over his skin. He pulled me in closer, maybe even whimpered, when I didn't, but that did not stop him one minute.

His hands, once on my hips, now traveled to the back of my head, his fingers gently entwining in my hair. The forcefulness of his touch sent a jolt of sensation through me, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that only intensified my desire. Despite the slight discomfort, I found myself unable to resist the pull, drawn to his commanding touch like a moth to a flame.

He hadn't forgotten what turned me on, what ignited the fire between us. His hazel eyes locked onto mine, and in that gaze, the unspoken understanding of our desires hung heavily in the air. It was a connection, an acknowledgment of the electric chemistry that existed between us.

As our lips met and melded, a gentle tug at his lower lip, a playful gesture that only fanned the flames. That somehow triggered something in him, and his lips left mine, which made me whimper like a little puppy. But his eyes held a promise, a hint of mischief and lust that indicated he had something in mind.

His hands grew impatient, becoming more insistent as he sought the bottom of my shirt. With urgency, his face pressed against my skin, his warm breath eliciting goosebumps to rise along my flesh. The anticipation built, every touch, every movement...we were both taken over by desire.

I wasn't sure what was about to happen, but his warm mouth found it, and a jolt of electricity shot through my body as he skillfully flicked and whirled his tongue. Waves of sensation coursed through me, igniting every nerve ending and sending shivers down my spine.

A mixture of pleasure and desire surged within me, and I couldn't help but react. The dampness between my legs intensified, the heat building as he explored beneath my shirt. I instinctively arched my back, granting him more, and he eagerly accepted the invitation. I couldn't stop myself. It was raw, leaving me growl, the Impala reverberating.

His tongue prowled from one sensitive mound to the next, setting me on fire with each touch. The pleasure escalated, I'm ready for that sweet release. Involuntary moans and cries escaped my lips, to which I can't even remember. And the intensity of the moment consumed me entirely. I was ready for him to take me here and now. Damn it all to hell.

Just as I was about to surrender to ecstasy, he stopped, his hands gently lowering my shirt back into place. His large hands firmly held my arms, stopping me in my tracks. Our eyes locked, and the air between us was thick. I found myself caught in a mix of emotions—frustration and confusion. How could he get me so worked up only to stop midway.

Anger crept, and I moved in for a kiss, trying to rekindle the connection. But he held me steady, his grip unyielding. What the hell?

His eyes bore into mine, and though his gaze was intense, it was also filled with many emotions that I couldn't decipher. The silence hung heavy, our heartbeats echoing in the Impala. I struggled to process what just happened—his horniness followed by this bullshit. Why the sudden change of heart?

My own breathing was far from calming down. His face blurred by the cascade of my hair, swaying with every anxious breath I took. "What are you doing?" his voice trembled, breaking through the air heavy with tension as he shifted underneath me, his hands still resting gently on my biceps. There was intensity between us, the palpable hunger that had driven us to this point. Did I do something wrong?

He repeated himself, his tone more insistent. "What are you doing, Rae?"

Frozen, I remained on top of him, my gaze locked onto his piercing eyes. Our foreheads met, silence between us. My hands found their way on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The erratic drumming I had felt earlier was now steadying itself, mine still racing.

"I thought you…" I whispered, my lips finding his cheek with a slow and tender kiss, then moving along his jawline, down to his neck. Each touch was causing a reaction in him, sending shivers through him as I made my way to his earlobe. His grip on me loosened slightly, but the tension still hung thick in the air.

And then, in a jarring turn of events, he abruptly got out of the car without uttering a single word. I was left stunned, grappling with the unexpected rejection. I had thought we were both on the same page, that this fiery encounter was mutual and desired. But now, I sat alone in the car, my emotions a chaotic whirlwind.

"Oh, my god," I murmured to myself, my voice barely audible, all sorts of emotions raging. The weight of rejection and embarrassment bore down on me, tears welling up as I sat straddling the empty space. Overwhelmed, I repeated the words, almost as if by saying them aloud, I could change what just happened. But reality remained the same, and the tears fell, a mixture of frustration, confusion, and disappointment.

With my hands trembling, I angrily brushed away the tears that stained my cheeks. What had I been expecting? That everything would magically fall into place? Did I even truly love him? A lump formed in my throat, my heart racing, and I couldn't help glancing to the side, my eyes darting around the interior of the car. I clutched the neckline of my hoodie and pressed it against my lips, my emotions in chaos.

But there was something else tugging at me. It wasn't just my life changing; his was too. I had been so consumed by my own that I had overlooked his. What did he want? Does he even want a family? The realization hit me like a punch, and I felt guilty.

Seated behind the wheel, I stared out through the windshield. Classic cars lined up in a row, the exhaust fan's gentle hum filling the air, and the soft buzz of the lights overhead – a scene so familiar, yet so detached from my thoughts.

Not a moment went by, the door on my side creaked open, his scent in the air. No words between us, his hands on mine as he ushered me out the car. The door slammed shut, its echo jolting me, yet I stood rooted to the spot where he left me.

Towering over me, he stared at me, my back against the car. I didn't know what else to do. I gazed right back. In front of me was not an angry man. What was once marred with confusion was filled with clarity. Pain was still there. What can I do to make it disappear?

Almost instinctively, I reached out, my fingers grazing his forehead, cautiously moving down to his closed eyelids. He didn't fight it, a silent invitation. I was somewhat relieved. I couldn't claim to know every detail of his life's story, and I don't think it was always rainbows and pots of gold. Maybe never. I don't know. I can sense the darkness, I see how wounded he is. I want to understand, but will he let me?

"It's okay," the words escaped me, soft and reassuring, as I drew him nearer, our bodies melding together, his head resting against mine. "Dean, we'll be alright. I'm sorry." A wistful smile curved his lips, a fleeting moment of vulnerability. My free hand rested on my belly, and he mirrored the gesture, kneeling and placing a tender kiss where my hand rested.

"We're in this together, okay? You, me...and our baby," I whispered, believing my words would offer solace. But they triggered a different response. His shoulders shook with emotion, the weight of his sorrows spilling out in sobs. Lord, how battered do you want this man before you let him find his happiness? My heart shattered as he broke down – the same man who exuded confidence, arrogance, and intelligence, now vulnerable and raw. Just hours ago, he was carefree, akin to a young boy exploring a toy store.
-

"Will you quit touchin' everything?" Rae scolded Dean, though a smile tugged at her lips. His curiosity had gotten the better of him once again, and this time, his touch had resulted in a plastic model, simulating the size of a full-grown baby in a uterus, awkwardly falling apart with a comical 'thwack' as it hit the floor. To add to his embarrassment, the model refused to stay in his grasp.

Even as she chastised him, a smile danced in Rae's eyes. It wasn't every day that Dean's clumsiness was on display. Usually, he wore his gruff exterior, a sarcastic edge, or the ever-present resting bitch face.

"Oops," he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. There was an inexplicable charm in his inability to hold onto the plastic model. Nervousness? Anxiety?

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, a private commentary meant only for himself. Rae simply shook her head, her eyes rolling, suppressing a chuckle.

"You might wanna avoid holding the baby for the first couple of weeks," Rae teased, her gaze fixed on Dean's ongoing battle with the plastic model. Her chin rested on her hand, a posture of amusement mixed with affection.

Amid everything in the room, what truly captured her attention was Dean. She'd been through similar situations during her own well-women's exams, which she had vowed never to repeat. Unfortunately, medical advice dictated otherwise. Her heart raced in the waiting room, a cocktail of fear and anxiety swirling within her. The idea of bringing another life into this world left her feeling overwhelmed and unprepared. But just when her thoughts threatened to drown her, Dean's antics snapped her back to the present.

"Hey, check this out. Look how friggin' massive this baby is!" Dean blurted out, drawing Rae's attention his way. "Think our little dude's gonna roll outta there that size? You bet your ass he will. I mean, c'mon, Winchesters? We're not exactly known for being small and dainty!" His grin practically lit up the room, all excited, while Rae's face? Well, let's just say she wasn't sharing his level of enthusiasm.

"Boy?" Rae's voice carried a note of disbelief. "Hold on a damn second. What if, by some twist of fate, it's actually a girl?" Rae's knowledge of her family's history was limited at best; she had intentionally avoided dwelling on it. The Gibbs's and Heidi was all the she has and need, they rescued her and become her family in every sense. But Dean? His family history was a whole different ballgame, filled with secrets and complexities. What did he truly know about his own roots?

Dean's brows knitted together in that classic thinking pose he always did. He carefully set the model back in its place, then settled back into his seat, his lips sealed. Rae watched, a touch worried, waiting for him to break the silence. Finally, he spoke up, his voice soft but filled with genuine concern, "Long as you and the little one are safe and healthy, that's all that matters." His deep green eyes locked onto hers, and she felt her heart flutter in response. She didn't know how to react, so she simply nodded, not trusting her voice to add anything more in that heartfelt moment.

This marked the very first time when their interactions surpassed the realm of awkward greetings. Prior conversations had been superficial, never delving into topics as significant as the child they had brought into existence together.

The room's atmosphere had turned chilly, and Rae could feel its icy fingers creeping in. She clasped the front of her hospital gown, an inadequate barrier against the cold. The nurse had explained that the gown was chosen for its practicality, meant to streamline the upcoming transvaginal ultrasound and pelvic exam. Both procedures were dreaded by Rae, and the mere thought of them heightened her discomfort.

"Why?" Rae's annoyance was palpable as she questioned the nurse after the preliminary assessment had concluded. The thought of yet another pelvic exam did little to ease her irritation, particularly considering the traumatic experience she had endured during her first one. The thought of a speculum alone was enough to visibly unsettle her, a tremor coursing through her frame.

"Ask the doctor when she arrives," the nurse's response was curt, leaving Rae with more questions than answers. She was then instructed to disrobe entirely and don the gown, ensuring the opening was positioned at the front.

Just as Rae was about to inquire further, the nurse provided an unexpected explanation, "The doctor will also be conducting a breast exam. Having the opening at the front makes it simpler." Initially, the nurse had been all smiles and charm, attempting to flirt with Dean, but her demeanor shifted drastically when her advances were met with indifference.

"Hi, my name is Melissa. I'm Dr. Thompson's nurse," the nurse's eyes flitted from Rae to Dean with a nonchalant glance, her gaze then dropping downward. Her demeanor underwent an abrupt shift as she nudged Rae aside. While Rae initially felt a pang of jealousy and disgust at Melissa's apparent interest in Dean, she quickly realized what had drawn her attention – Dean's ringless left ring finger.

"Hi, I'm Melissa," she repeated, as if the words needed to be said again. The palpable attraction she had for Dean was unmistakable – the lip biting, the twirling of her hair, the seductive smile. Rae could only smirk and shake her head in sheer bewilderment. Memories of a similar incident at Jolene's a few months back flooded her mind as she allowed this situation to unfold, eager to gauge Dean's reaction to Melissa's advances.

As they walked past a series of exam rooms, Rae wrapped her arms around Dean's sinewy arm, a wide grin adorning her face, while Dean's expression was one of astonishment. "Yeah, this is my friend, Dean," she introduced playfully, nudging him in the ribs.

The color scheme of the exam rooms was inviting, adorned with black-and-white photos of families – mothers and babies, fathers and babies, pregnant women – creating a warm atmosphere. Entering a room with light green and soft blue hues that evoked a beachy vibe, Rae led Dean to the corner where the exam table stood, resembling a surfboard with an array of intimidating contraptions. Dean cleared his throat and conjured his most charming smile. "Don't listen to her. I'm Dean..." he paused dramatically, before delivering the punchline. "...her husband."

The word 'husband' echoed in Rae's mind, still carrying a tinge of awkwardness. Introducing Dean as her husband on paper was one thing, to hear it out loud was another. Rae clicked her tongue playfully, addressing him. "You're no fun!"

Melissa, the nurse, appeared crestfallen and shot Rae a disdainful look as Rae settled onto the surfboard-like exam table. "You know you could've just said so," Melissa muttered, to which Rae responded with a nonchalant shrug.

So here she was, shivering in a thin, disposable hospital gown that left her feeling vulnerable. The flimsy garment was open in the front, and the impending procedures weren't doing her nerves any favors. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the uncomfortable situation.

Suddenly, Dean appeared beside her and draped something warm over her shoulders – his olive green jacket. She looked up at him in surprise, touched by the gesture. His voice broke through her thoughts, injecting a touch of humor. "Here. It'll keep you warm. Look like those can cut glass," he joked, earning a playful jab to his stomach from her. "Ow! That hurt!" he exclaimed, chuckling and playfully nursing his stomach.

Rae rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. He was right, though she didn't feel the need to admit it aloud. Just as the two settled into a comfortable exchange, a female obstetrician entered the room. "Good morning. My name is Dr. Thompson. Are you Mr. and Mrs. Campbell?" she inquired, extending her hand for them to shake.

"Hey, doc. I'm Dean. My wife, Mary Rae," Dean introduced, his words flowing naturally as if the title 'wife' had always belonged to her. Rae's attention shifted slightly, her gaze sidelong as the word 'wife' slipped from his lips. It was a term they had acquired just a few weeks ago, courtesy of Ash's unconventional methods. For her, referring to Dean as her 'husband' was still an unfamiliar concept. After all, they were technically only 'married' on paper. The complexities of her feelings and the uncertainty of his made the titles even more complex. Lost in her thoughts, she momentarily forgot about the presence of the other two people in the room.

"Ground control to Major Tom, do you copy?" Dean's amused voice brought her back to the room, his hand waving playfully in front of her face.

Blinking, Rae crinkled her nose. "Major... What?" Apparently, she was the only one who didn't catch the reference.

With that, the initial visit continued. A barrage of questions rained down on both of them, ranging from their personal histories to those of their parents', which they had few answers for. Dean managed to surprise Rae when it came to his health status, considering his past exploits – something she found herself secretly grateful for.

"I get tested every year for, uh, the work that I do," Dean explained casually, deflecting further inquiry into the matter.

"Do you have the current test result with you?" The doctor redirected, and Dean promptly handed her a folded document.

"Who the heck are you?" Rae's accidental mumble escaped her lips, and she clamped a hand over her mouth in mortification. She hadn't meant to verbalize her unfiltered thoughts, but there it was. Both Dean and the doctor turned to her, wearing quizzical expressions. When she offered no further explanation, the doctor continued her line of questioning.

"Was this pregnancy planned?"

"Not by a long shot," Rae chuckled, leaving it at that. But the doctor's expression indicated a desire for more information, yet neither she nor the doctor spoke further on the matter.

"Uh-huh. Is this a wanted pregnancy?"

This time, she and Dean turned their gazes toward each other and held each other's eyes in a silent exchange. Dean was the first to break the eye contact, his irritation palpable. "Where's this heading, doc?"

"Dean," Rae's voice was soft, her hand resting on his shoulder as she directed an apologetic look towards the doctor. "She's asking to ensure she tailors the right care for us."

Her touch seemed to quell some of his annoyance, but he remained unsettled. "Well, it's a stupid question. It's like asking if we're planning to kick the baby out or something." His voice carried a hint of alarm. His next question was laced with a mix of fear and desperation. "We do want this, right?!" His eyes bore into hers, a whirlwind of emotions trapped within them. "Because I do…"

Her heart swelled at hearing his admission – the first time he'd verbalized it. A torrent of feelings surged within her: happiness, anxiety, uncertainty. But she already had her mind made up; the night she'd discovered her pregnancy, she'd made her choice. "Yes, Dean, I do," she affirmed, her voice resolute, hoping to erase any doubts in both their minds. "Honey, I do," she repeated, hoping to solidify the sentiment not just for him, but for herself too.

He inhaled deeply, a sound that almost resembled 'okay,' and nodded. He squeezed her hand for a moment before letting go.

While the couple shared their private moment, Dr. Thompson readied herself for the upcoming physical exam, announcing her intentions after. Dean shifted his chair away from the exam table, affording the doctor space to perform the examination. Dr. Thompson began with a breast exam, and Dean, consciously averting his gaze, picked an arbitrary spot on the wall to focus on. He clearly felt ill at ease, though he chose to remain seated instead of leaving, enduring the experience with a soldier's stoicism.

Following the breast exam, Dr. Thompson positioned the ultrasound device by the edge of the exam table and extended two supports from each side of the table. She then started to give her patient instructions.

"Alright, sweetie. Place your feet in the heel rests and scoot your bum all the way to the edge of the bed," She complied. Dean, observing what was going on, couldn't help but feel a sense of discomfort, and he voiced a tentative question.

"Uh, should I step out?" He muttered, massaging his neck. Although he had seen 'it' before, observing the inner workings of a women's health clinic was an entirely different experience. Both the doctor and Rae responded with chuckles.

"Is he always this adorable?" Dr. Thompson playfully teased as she brought out a speculum and attached a light to it.

"What the heck is that?" Dean's eyes widened in alarm. The entire appointment was beginning to resemble a trip to a medieval torture chamber.

The doctor couldn't resist teasing Dean a little longer. She raised the device slightly, coated in lubricating gel, letting it drip. "Oh, this? It's a vaginal speculum. We use it to examine women's vaginas. If you're concerned about this, just wait until we use the transvaginal wand on your wife," she pointed, grinning widely. Dean's eyes grew even wider as he followed her gesture.

"The whole thing?" His question came out in a rapid whisper. "It's… it's…"

Dr. Thompson's laughter spilled out of the exam room, joined by Rae's. Dean's reaction was undeniably cute, though the only male in the room had a different opinion. Despite her annoyance with Dean, Rae extended her hand for him to hold, and after a moment of hesitation, he accepted, linking their hands.

"Dean, hold my hand," she encouraged. Initially resistant, he ultimately gave in. Ever since he discovered he was going to be a father, he vowed to support Rae and their baby in any way he can. Once their hands connected, everything felt right again. Coupled with her smile directed at him, he sensed the underlying anger behind her beautiful brown eyes.

"Huh?" The doctor remarked. "Unique tattoo. Seems recent." As soon as the words left Dr. Thompson's lips, Dean leaned forward, inadvertently pulling Rae with him before being abruptly halted. He knew exactly what it was – an anti-possession tattoo.

"Damn," Rae muttered under her breath. She knew what was coming. She could see the anger in Dean's eyes, the tension in his jaw, and his labored breathing. He stared at it longer than she would have liked, then shifted his glare to her. The intensity was palpable, his grip on her hand tightening.

"I'm gonna strangle Garth," he growled.

Confusion swirled within her – she couldn't comprehend why he was furious. He had instructed Garth to tattoo her, and he did, with her choosing the location on her inner thigh. Why that particular spot, she couldn't recall. Uninterested in prolonging the matter, she simply shrugged.

Dr. Thompson could sense the heavy atmosphere but opted to remain silent. Then a thought crossed her mind. While Dean and Rae were preoccupied with their dispute over a tattoo, she flicked a switch beside her and slowly inserted the transvaginal wand into her patient, taking her off guard.

As the tip of the wand slipped inside, Rae let out an involuntary moan, her grip on Dean's hand intensifying. Dean, who was likely just as uncomfortable, if not more so, stared with bafflement. He muttered, "What the heck?" She sensed his unease and stuttered, "I-I'm fine. It's just the tip. Focus on the screen." Soon enough, an image resembling a baby came into view. It was grainy, but there was no mistaking it.

"And there's your baby. The crown-rump length measures approximately 57 millimeters, indicating 12 weeks and 3 days of estimated gestational age," Dr. Thompson explained, her attention split between the screen and some adjustments she was making.

Dean's face became a canvas of numerous emotions. While he maintained his grip on Rae's hand, his other hand wandered to his mouth, the uncertainty of what to say evident in his expression. "Uh..." his voice wavered. He repeatedly cleared his throat, struggling as if something were lodged there, causing his Adam's apple to bob up and down. All that managed to escape were incoherent sounds.

Rae divided her gaze between the ultrasound image and Dean, a mixture of smiles and tears gracing her face. There it was – the baby she initially believed she didn't want, now larger than in their first sighting, the heartbeat echoing its presence. The baby moved, occasionally evading Dr. Thompson's attempts to capture specific images, but the doctor persevered, obtaining the desired pictures and printing a few.

And then came another revelation. Rae and Dean, for the very first time, heard the rapid thump of their baby's heartbeat. It was a pivotal moment, solidifying the reality that she and Dean were about to become parents, embarking on the journey of expecting their first child together.