Superhero Dads
Title: Superhero Dads
Author: earth_heart
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: AU
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. It belongs to Kripke and the CW/WB.
Summary: For my dear cautionzombies , who needed a bit of cheering up after her computer fiasco. Here’s to hoping you like it, dearie.
Not many things could make the bottom drop out of Dean’s stomach.
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Not many things could make the bottom drop out of Dean’s stomach. He was a mechanic, for chrissakes, a country Kansas boy who thought that flannels and ripped jeans were a perfectly good fashion statement.
Hearing his husband’s voice, desperate and panicked, babbling, “Dean, it’s Chrissy, he collapsed at school.” was one thing that could make the bottom drop out of Dean’s stomach and right through the cold, filthy concrete ground he was standing on.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘he collapsed at school’?” Dean sputtered, already heading for the exit. His boss, Bobby, just arched an eyebrow at him and jerked his head in a clear ‘get out of here’ sign.
“Sam said he was sitting there, and all of the sudden he fell out of his seat. He’s running a fever, and he’s pale and shaking. Sam called the hospital already. Dean, I don’t know what to do. You’re working on my car, and I’m half an hour away-“
“I’m coming for you, babe.” was the Winchester’s reply before he ended the call abruptly. For not the first time, he thanked whatever God was out there that his younger brother was an elementary school teacher. Dean practically ran out to his car, throwing himself in and slamming on the ignition. Tires squealed as he slammed down on the accelerator and pealed out of the parking lot.
Mentally apologizing to his baby, Dean gripped the steering wheel and raced toward where Castiel worked, which was indeed half an hour away. He made it there in ten minutes, miraculously without being stopped by any cops, and his husband was right there, waiting outside of the large fashion-design building.
“Have you heard anything from Sam?” Castiel asked as he buckled himself in. He was pale, his large eyes looking even bigger and more lost as he turned them on Dean. His usually messy dark brown hair was even more of a wreck than usual, and he’d bitten his lower lip until it darkened and swelled.
Usually Dean would be so turned on by that, but right now there were bigger, more important problems. Like the fact that their son, Christophe Gabriel Winchester, had collapsed out of his seat at school, and no one but his brother had even fucking called them yet.
The ride to the hospital was tense and full of silence. Castiel was clutching the dashboard, his fingers flexing and curling as he fretted, while Dean just stared out the windshield with his own hands clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles were white.
Christophe had been adopted when he was just a baby, and he had Castiel’s large blue eyes and Dean’s tenacity. It was honestly amazing that he wasn’t related to either of them, and many people often asked if he was. He wasn’t, though, but that didn’t mean Dean and Castiel loved their son any less.
Sam was the greatest uncle in the world to little Chrissy, now six, and he’d pulled some strings at the Kansas Elementary School to make sure his nephew was in his first grade class. That eased Dean’s concerns, because it meant that one of them had an eye on the boy at all times.
The silence followed them as Dean parked the Impala in a free spot outside of the emergency room, and both men marched into the hospital. Sam was waiting for them there, his hair a mess from fisting it and his mouth a tight line of worry. As soon as he saw Dean, he headed for them.
“What’s going on?” Dean demanded.
“We’re not sure.” Sam replied, which in Winchester-speak meant ‘no one’s telling me a goddamned thing’.
Dean saw red. Only a hand on his shoulder, placed by Castiel, calmed the man from storming through the doors and into the ER proper.
“Excuse me, are you young Christophe’s parents?” an unknown voice said, and Dean whirled on the doctor who had approached them unseen. She was standing there with a clipboard hugged to her chest, looking tired but concerned. It did nothing to ease Dean’s fears.
“We are. I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my husband Castiel. Please, ma’am, tell me what’s going on.” He turned his attention to her, stepping closer. Castiel was already crowding forward, since his husband didn’t have a sense of personal space at the best of times.
Under their combined stares, the doctor shifted. “He’s going to be fine.” she assured them first and foremost. “I just have a few questions for you first.”
“Yeah?”
“How often does Christophe eat or drink during the day?”
“He eats plenty, and we always make sure he gets nutritional things.” Castiel replied at once, his voice slightly sharp, as if reprimanding this woman for daring to think he fed his child anything but the best and the healthiest.
“What does he drink?”
“Water, juice, milk; we don’t allow a lot of sugary, carbonated drinks in our house.”
Dean briefly wondered when he was supposed to answer a question.
“Has he ever felt dizzy or faint before?”
“No.”
“Is he the biological son of one of you?”
“No.” Dean said at last. “We adopted him when he was a few months old.”
“All right, then. We want to take some blood from him to run some tests, but from the looks of it he’s got a condition known as Vasovagal Syncope. In more simple terms, it means he fainted, which explains his paleness and shaking. His fever is probably what triggered it, though it’s not always typical. Was he complaining of feeling ill this morning?”
“He was.” Sam murmured, and Dean’s head snapped around to fix on his brother. “Not long before he fainted, he was telling me he felt dizzy and sick. I sent him to the nurse, but she said his fever wasn’t too bad, and since he wasn’t throwing up she sent him back to class.”
Fighting back the urge to go and kill an innocent school nurse, Dean turned back to the doctor. “Can we see him?” he asked.
“You can. He woke up not long after bringing him here, and for the most part he’s lucid and healthy. We’ll keep him for a little longer to monitor his progress and the fever, but he should be allowed to come home with you by tonight. Just keep an eye on him. There really isn’t any medication for VVS, so you’ll have to do your best to just be alert for the symptoms that precede it.”
Nodding, Dean followed her into the ER with Castiel close behind him and Sam bringing up the rear. They cut through the emergency room and into the children’s section of the hospital. It was brighter here, and much more quiet, and overall it just felt much more peaceful.
They reached Christophe’s room, and the three men crowded through the doorway. Christophe was sitting up in bed, his legs crossed beneath the blankets and his bright blue eyes glued to the cartoons on the television screen. When the Winchester men walked in, he looked over and grinned.
“Daddy! Papa!”
“Hey, buddy.” Dean murmured, coming forward at once and scooping up his little man. Chrissy snuggled against his chest eagerly as he pressed a kiss to his son’s hair. “How are you doing, little man? You scared the sh-” he felt Castiel’s eyes boring into the back of his skull and quickly amended, “-crap out of us. When Daddy called me, Papa nearly dropped a wrench on his head.”
Christophe giggled softly, kicking his feet before turning to look at Castiel. With one arm slung around Dean’s neck, he reached out with his other hand, making a grabby hand at Castiel.
Anyone else might have been slightly worried about mussing up their pristine four-hundred-dollar shirt, but Castiel came forward right away and let Christophe bunch his tiny hand in the silky fabric as he pressed a kiss to the boy’s head.
“I’m okay.” Christophe promised, and he was, despite still running a slight fever. He was smiling up at them, bright and blinding and gummy. The boy smiled like Castiel when Dean’s husband smiled, though his eyes crinkled up like Dean’s.
Boy could he throw a tantrum like Sammy, though.
“You’d better be okay.” Dean threatened playfully, stepping closer to Castiel so they could protect their child with their bodies while Sam hovered protectively over the three of them. “If not, Papa would have to go kicking the butts of everyone. We wouldn’t want that.”
“I do!” his son chirped, his eyes already drooping. The poor kid was clearly tuckered out after such a day. “I wanna see Papa kicking butt like a superhero. Daddy, too. Daddy could use his pea-coat as his cape.”
Dean looked up, smiling tenderly at his husband. Castiel did so love his tan, wool pea-coat. “Daddy’s coat would make a sexy cape.” he said quietly, and his lover’s blue eyes flicked up to meet his own green ones.
“Papa could wear his leather jacket as his trademark look.” Castiel added, a gentle smile curling his lips and softening his face. That look right there was one of Dean’s favorites, with that little not-quite-smile and that open, honest warmth.
“My daddies would be the best superheroes ever.” Christophe mumbled, his head tilting until it rested against Castiel’s chest.
The two men moved to the bed, settling awkwardly on it on their sides with Christophe resting in between them. Sam hovered behind Dean, reaching out to run one large but infinitely gentle hand through his nephew’s wild blonde hair.
“Sleep well, little man. Your superhero daddies will watch over you, and so will I.” he said quietly. Dean shot his brother a grateful look, and Sam nodded back at him.
The three men, superheroes in their own ways, watched over and protected innocent young Christophe Winchester as he slumbered peacefully; feeling their strength and love even in the depths of his dreams and relaxing further into the embrace of his parents.
All was not completely right with the world, but it would be later on that night, when Dean and Castiel carried their sleepy child into their home and settled him onto their large king-sized mattress. The husbands shared a loving kiss over their son, who mumbled in his sleep, before they climbed in on either side of him and curled around their child.
Then, with their fingers laced and their palms resting protectively on little Christophe’s hip, the fathers rested, and all was right with the world.