Mommy Dearest (3/?)
Title: Mommy Dearest
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Destiel/Bottom!Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if it was, this would be Canon.
Warnings: Slash, language, Mpreg, bad grammar...
Summary: Things go a bit differently in 6.19, Mommy Dearest. Dean didn't drink the Phoenix ash, and these are the consequences...
Dean wakes up the next day.
Sam's nursing a serious hangover when it happens-sitting at his brothers bed side-and at first he thinks it's his head just fucking with him. But Dean's eyes slowly flicker open, and he stares blankly at the ceiling, unmoving.
For a moment Sam's too shocked to do anything other than stare. His brother's awake, after a week straight of unconsciousness, he's finally awake. But the lack of response bothers him, scares the living shit out of him actually, and a rush of adrenaline gives him the push he needs to call for help.
Because something just isn't right.
"Cas… Cas! Dean's awake," he thinks maybe he should call for Bobby too, but the rooms suddenly not so still-wind that shouldn't be there musing Sam's hair, ruffling the bedding. Castiel is standing at the end of the bed, intense stare focused only on Dean.
"What's wrong?" He turns that stony, blue gaze to Sam.
"I…" the question hits like a tidal-wave, and the youngest Winchester realizes how much they actually rely on Castiel's vast knowledge. It's like a blow to the gut knowing that the Angel is relying as much on him as Sam would like to depend on the once-fallen Angel instead. "I was hoping you'd- I have no idea. He just woke up and…" he trails off, because nothing actually happened. In fact, it was the lack ofhappenings that scared him in the first place.
"He just… woke up, that's all."
Castiel walks around the bed and reaches his index and middle finger towards Dean's forehead, and waits.
Sam's expecting for Dean to spring up from the bed like a daisy, even though the last time Castiel tried his two finger mumbo-jumbo nothing happened. But this time he's not entirely disappointed. Dean doesn't sit up in bed like he didn't just sleep for days straight, but he does blink-albeit sluggishly-before turning his head, gaze searching the room dazedly.
He opens his mouth to speak, but a choked out hiss of air is all that comes out.
Sam belatedly realizes that, hello, Dean's been unconscious. He wasn't exactly able to drink anything while comatose. Castiel seems to notice this too, because before Sam can even make it out of his seat to find a glass of water, he's placing his fingers back on the Dean's forehead, seemingly quenching his thirst.
"Thomas?" It's slurred, but Sam's sure he heard the word right.
"Uh, no it's… It's Sam," He says shakily, because Sam's both wrecked with relief that Dean's finally awake, and scared to death that there's something wrong with his head.
"Dean," Castiel's strong, low growl brings his brothers dazed gaze up to meet worried blue. "Are you… What are you feeling?"
"Cas? I-" Dean's face scrunches up in confusion, but Sam thinks he see's reality rushing back to his older brother and he's both relieved and worried. He really hopes Dean doesn't start screaming and flailing, Sam's not sure he can stand to see his brother in that kind of condition again. "Eve… Where's Eve? Did we… Where are we?"
Dean tries to sit up, but he doesn't seem to have the energy. Castiel wraps an arm around his chest and underarm, helping to situate him against the headboard.
"Bobby's?"
"Yes, we thought this to be the safest place for you to make your… recovery," the Angel is staring so intently at Dean, Sam's not sure how he hasn't worn a hole right through him. Castiel seems just as worried, maybe even more so, than he himself.
"Eve she… she bit me and I-" Dean looks up at Castiel, holds eye contact, and fuck, Sam's never quite understood how he could hold the Angel's intense stare like that. Now especially. "I'm… All-mother?"
Dean sounds a Hell of a lot calmer than he had before; then Sam had anticipated. Like finding out what happened, what he's become, has eased his nerves. He's not entirely sure what to make of that. He must be imagining things.
"Hey man, look, Bobby and I, we've been going over lore since we got here," Sam pointedly leaves out that they had drunkenly called it a quits last night. Dean's conscious state has renewed his determination to find a way to cure his brother. "We'll figure out how to undue this, alright man? We can fix this, if it's the last thing we do."
Dean looks over at him, and it's not like Sam was expecting him to jump up in down in excitement, but he definitely wasn't expecting the dead gaze he got in return.
"Right, fix it," Dean says monotonously, taking to staring down at the sheets. "Thanks Sammy."
Sam looks up at Castiel, he doesn't know what to do now. His big brother is finally awake and it's been days and he and Bobby have made absolutely no progress. But Castiel has been absent since the night he laid Dean in the old rickety guestroom bed, surely he was looking for a way to fix Dean as well.
"Hey, uh, Dean… Look, you've been out for, uh, a while," Yeah, if a week counts as a while. "How 'bout I go down stairs and round up something for you to eat? Sound good?"
Dean's stare doesn't leave the bedding. "Yeah, Sammy, sounds good…"
Sam get's up from where he'd been sitting for what seems like years, and heads for the door.
"Cas," Sam says, stopping at the threshold. "I could use your help in the kitchen for a moment, if you wouldn't mind?"
Castiel looks up from Dean, meeting him with a stony glare. "I think you are more than capable of handling simple kitchenware on your own, Sam."
Sam's not sure if the Angel really didn't catch his I-need-to-talk-to-you-out-right-the-fuck-now that he so obviously shoved into his little request, or if he's deliberately being an ass. Either way, he's not in the mood.
Sam meets the Angel's glare head on, doesn't once blink-doesn't even consider it. He's stared down John Winchester without breaking so much as a sweat, and Dean's life wasn't in jeopardy then. It is, technically, now. Castiel didn't stand a chance.
With a sigh-and Jesus, when did Cas pick up that human trait?-Castiel heads for the door as well. "Fine, Sam, I will assist you in the kitchen."
Sam steps aside, let's Castiel through first before giving his brother one last glance. He doesn't see an almost silvery gleam over the usually forest green eyes, he doesn't. It's mid afternoon, the sun is bright and the windows are open. It's just a glare from the light, is all.
Or at least, that's what Sam tells himself.
Part four
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Destiel/Bottom!Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if it was, this would be Canon.
Warnings: Slash, language, Mpreg, bad grammar...
Summary: Things go a bit differently in 6.19, Mommy Dearest. Dean didn't drink the Phoenix ash, and these are the consequences...
Dean wakes up the next day.
Sam's nursing a serious hangover when it happens-sitting at his brothers bed side-and at first he thinks it's his head just fucking with him. But Dean's eyes slowly flicker open, and he stares blankly at the ceiling, unmoving.
For a moment Sam's too shocked to do anything other than stare. His brother's awake, after a week straight of unconsciousness, he's finally awake. But the lack of response bothers him, scares the living shit out of him actually, and a rush of adrenaline gives him the push he needs to call for help.
Because something just isn't right.
"Cas… Cas! Dean's awake," he thinks maybe he should call for Bobby too, but the rooms suddenly not so still-wind that shouldn't be there musing Sam's hair, ruffling the bedding. Castiel is standing at the end of the bed, intense stare focused only on Dean.
"What's wrong?" He turns that stony, blue gaze to Sam.
"I…" the question hits like a tidal-wave, and the youngest Winchester realizes how much they actually rely on Castiel's vast knowledge. It's like a blow to the gut knowing that the Angel is relying as much on him as Sam would like to depend on the once-fallen Angel instead. "I was hoping you'd- I have no idea. He just woke up and…" he trails off, because nothing actually happened. In fact, it was the lack ofhappenings that scared him in the first place.
"He just… woke up, that's all."
Castiel walks around the bed and reaches his index and middle finger towards Dean's forehead, and waits.
Sam's expecting for Dean to spring up from the bed like a daisy, even though the last time Castiel tried his two finger mumbo-jumbo nothing happened. But this time he's not entirely disappointed. Dean doesn't sit up in bed like he didn't just sleep for days straight, but he does blink-albeit sluggishly-before turning his head, gaze searching the room dazedly.
He opens his mouth to speak, but a choked out hiss of air is all that comes out.
Sam belatedly realizes that, hello, Dean's been unconscious. He wasn't exactly able to drink anything while comatose. Castiel seems to notice this too, because before Sam can even make it out of his seat to find a glass of water, he's placing his fingers back on the Dean's forehead, seemingly quenching his thirst.
"Thomas?" It's slurred, but Sam's sure he heard the word right.
"Uh, no it's… It's Sam," He says shakily, because Sam's both wrecked with relief that Dean's finally awake, and scared to death that there's something wrong with his head.
"Dean," Castiel's strong, low growl brings his brothers dazed gaze up to meet worried blue. "Are you… What are you feeling?"
"Cas? I-" Dean's face scrunches up in confusion, but Sam thinks he see's reality rushing back to his older brother and he's both relieved and worried. He really hopes Dean doesn't start screaming and flailing, Sam's not sure he can stand to see his brother in that kind of condition again. "Eve… Where's Eve? Did we… Where are we?"
Dean tries to sit up, but he doesn't seem to have the energy. Castiel wraps an arm around his chest and underarm, helping to situate him against the headboard.
"Bobby's?"
"Yes, we thought this to be the safest place for you to make your… recovery," the Angel is staring so intently at Dean, Sam's not sure how he hasn't worn a hole right through him. Castiel seems just as worried, maybe even more so, than he himself.
"Eve she… she bit me and I-" Dean looks up at Castiel, holds eye contact, and fuck, Sam's never quite understood how he could hold the Angel's intense stare like that. Now especially. "I'm… All-mother?"
Dean sounds a Hell of a lot calmer than he had before; then Sam had anticipated. Like finding out what happened, what he's become, has eased his nerves. He's not entirely sure what to make of that. He must be imagining things.
"Hey man, look, Bobby and I, we've been going over lore since we got here," Sam pointedly leaves out that they had drunkenly called it a quits last night. Dean's conscious state has renewed his determination to find a way to cure his brother. "We'll figure out how to undue this, alright man? We can fix this, if it's the last thing we do."
Dean looks over at him, and it's not like Sam was expecting him to jump up in down in excitement, but he definitely wasn't expecting the dead gaze he got in return.
"Right, fix it," Dean says monotonously, taking to staring down at the sheets. "Thanks Sammy."
Sam looks up at Castiel, he doesn't know what to do now. His big brother is finally awake and it's been days and he and Bobby have made absolutely no progress. But Castiel has been absent since the night he laid Dean in the old rickety guestroom bed, surely he was looking for a way to fix Dean as well.
"Hey, uh, Dean… Look, you've been out for, uh, a while," Yeah, if a week counts as a while. "How 'bout I go down stairs and round up something for you to eat? Sound good?"
Dean's stare doesn't leave the bedding. "Yeah, Sammy, sounds good…"
Sam get's up from where he'd been sitting for what seems like years, and heads for the door.
"Cas," Sam says, stopping at the threshold. "I could use your help in the kitchen for a moment, if you wouldn't mind?"
Castiel looks up from Dean, meeting him with a stony glare. "I think you are more than capable of handling simple kitchenware on your own, Sam."
Sam's not sure if the Angel really didn't catch his I-need-to-talk-to-you-out-right-the-fuck-now that he so obviously shoved into his little request, or if he's deliberately being an ass. Either way, he's not in the mood.
Sam meets the Angel's glare head on, doesn't once blink-doesn't even consider it. He's stared down John Winchester without breaking so much as a sweat, and Dean's life wasn't in jeopardy then. It is, technically, now. Castiel didn't stand a chance.
With a sigh-and Jesus, when did Cas pick up that human trait?-Castiel heads for the door as well. "Fine, Sam, I will assist you in the kitchen."
Sam steps aside, let's Castiel through first before giving his brother one last glance. He doesn't see an almost silvery gleam over the usually forest green eyes, he doesn't. It's mid afternoon, the sun is bright and the windows are open. It's just a glare from the light, is all.
Or at least, that's what Sam tells himself.
Part four