Fic: Every. Two. Hours.
Title: Every. Two. Hours.
Author: vinvy
Rating: G
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: ~ 630
Summary: By the fourth night of the Endlessly Displeased Baby, Dean at least was beginning to think Hope was already self-aware and that she hated their guts.
Warnings: Domestic smoosh of the smooshiest degree. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any affiliated characters. If I did this would be on the show. Duh. Now go read my fic.
A/N: Written for iron_fist123 in AIM while I was waiting for my eardrops to settle. The antibiotics must have struck the inspiration-lobe in my noodle or something.
Hope's first week as a Winchester was difficult.
"Difficult" means that the baby was adorable as hell and perpetually unhappy with everything her new fathers attempted to do for her. Her formula was swill, getting dressed a capital offense, and sleeping at night? Out of the question entirely. By the fourth night of the Endlessly Displeased Baby, Dean at least was beginning to think she was already self-aware and hated their guts, and he said so. Castiel, with tired eyes, just got up and stumbled to check on Hope because it was his turn to answer the cries on the baby monitor. Dean lay in bed feeling guilty until Cas returned.
Hope's days were restful and Dean and Cas spent them trying to sleep with limited success, as neither of them had made a habit of being up at odd hours of the night for at least three years now. Dean was on vacation from the shop and Cas had gotten paternity leave from the university, miracle of miracles. They couldn't do this forever, though, this whole not sleeping thing.
On the fifth night Cas was dead asleep with head under the pillow and his limbs sprawled out, taking up most of the space in the bed in that horrendous, blanket-hogging way that meant he was asleep, peaceful, and dreaming. Which is why Dean didn't bother to wake him up when Hope stirred for the third time that night-- good God why was there no peace in their house?
Dean picked up the baby and cradled her to his chest, then flicked the baby monitor off. "Sh, hey honey, you're okay," he soothed.
His eyes were burning and all he wanted was eight consecutive hours of sleep. Hope wasn't hungry any more. She didn't need to be changed. She was as healthy as a moose. There were about a million protection charms and sigils under the murals on her walls so she was the safest she could possibly be- there was no point going through all of that again. It took too much out of him.
He hummed a few bars of "Hey Jude" but he'd known since Night Three that didn't do the trick after midnight and it was 3 AM. "Hope, c'mon, your Daddy and Papa need their sleep," he beseeched, kissing her cheek. That only made her fussing worse. The cheerful wisps of cloud and sky painted on the walls mocked him with their calm.
The floor behind him creaked. "It is supposed to be my turn, Dean," Castiel whispered, which would have been funny considering Hope's crying, if Dean weren't so damn tired.
"You were asleep."
"So were you."
Dean sighed at the pointed look Cas gave him. The angel had perfected the "pointed look" and could give whole lectures without opening his mouth. That was probably why he was such a great professor of Philosophy- he could communicate without the difficult stuff without words.
"Come here," Cas beckoned. They stood that way for a minute, the world's fussiest baby in Dean's arms still refusing to be quelled. Cas gazed town at Hope and pressed a finger to her lips. "Hush."
The ensuing silence hurt Dean's ears. The glow in the dark paint on the ceiling- Cas had insisted that it be a replication of the night sky on the day Hope was born because Cas apparently knew where every freakin’ star in the sky was- was warm in the dim.
They both stared at their daughter then winced when she drew a breath to cry again--
"Little One," Cas began, and Hope actually closed her mouth and seemed to listen, "you are as loved as you could ever possibly be here and more. Do not be afraid-- we are not leaving you, I promise. Now you must rest and let us rest. We have long lives ahead of us and we need our sleep."
Hope yawned. The whole room was calmer, like a weight had been lifted from it.
"Did she actually..." Dean hesitated, "Did she understand all that?"
"Not the words, no. Of course not. She will not have that kind of a grasp on language until she is two, " Cas replied, "but she understood the meaning perfectly, I think. It looks like now all she needs is a lullaby and she will sleep soundly."
Three verses in to "Hey Jude", Hope was sound asleep but Dean and Cas stayed there for the rest of the song, watching over her. Then, once they'd gotten their assurance that she was peaceful, they wandered back to their bed and slept.
- Fin
Author: vinvy
Rating: G
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: ~ 630
Summary: By the fourth night of the Endlessly Displeased Baby, Dean at least was beginning to think Hope was already self-aware and that she hated their guts.
Warnings: Domestic smoosh of the smooshiest degree. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any affiliated characters. If I did this would be on the show. Duh. Now go read my fic.
A/N: Written for iron_fist123 in AIM while I was waiting for my eardrops to settle. The antibiotics must have struck the inspiration-lobe in my noodle or something.
Hope's first week as a Winchester was difficult.
"Difficult" means that the baby was adorable as hell and perpetually unhappy with everything her new fathers attempted to do for her. Her formula was swill, getting dressed a capital offense, and sleeping at night? Out of the question entirely. By the fourth night of the Endlessly Displeased Baby, Dean at least was beginning to think she was already self-aware and hated their guts, and he said so. Castiel, with tired eyes, just got up and stumbled to check on Hope because it was his turn to answer the cries on the baby monitor. Dean lay in bed feeling guilty until Cas returned.
Hope's days were restful and Dean and Cas spent them trying to sleep with limited success, as neither of them had made a habit of being up at odd hours of the night for at least three years now. Dean was on vacation from the shop and Cas had gotten paternity leave from the university, miracle of miracles. They couldn't do this forever, though, this whole not sleeping thing.
On the fifth night Cas was dead asleep with head under the pillow and his limbs sprawled out, taking up most of the space in the bed in that horrendous, blanket-hogging way that meant he was asleep, peaceful, and dreaming. Which is why Dean didn't bother to wake him up when Hope stirred for the third time that night-- good God why was there no peace in their house?
Dean picked up the baby and cradled her to his chest, then flicked the baby monitor off. "Sh, hey honey, you're okay," he soothed.
His eyes were burning and all he wanted was eight consecutive hours of sleep. Hope wasn't hungry any more. She didn't need to be changed. She was as healthy as a moose. There were about a million protection charms and sigils under the murals on her walls so she was the safest she could possibly be- there was no point going through all of that again. It took too much out of him.
He hummed a few bars of "Hey Jude" but he'd known since Night Three that didn't do the trick after midnight and it was 3 AM. "Hope, c'mon, your Daddy and Papa need their sleep," he beseeched, kissing her cheek. That only made her fussing worse. The cheerful wisps of cloud and sky painted on the walls mocked him with their calm.
The floor behind him creaked. "It is supposed to be my turn, Dean," Castiel whispered, which would have been funny considering Hope's crying, if Dean weren't so damn tired.
"You were asleep."
"So were you."
Dean sighed at the pointed look Cas gave him. The angel had perfected the "pointed look" and could give whole lectures without opening his mouth. That was probably why he was such a great professor of Philosophy- he could communicate without the difficult stuff without words.
"Come here," Cas beckoned. They stood that way for a minute, the world's fussiest baby in Dean's arms still refusing to be quelled. Cas gazed town at Hope and pressed a finger to her lips. "Hush."
The ensuing silence hurt Dean's ears. The glow in the dark paint on the ceiling- Cas had insisted that it be a replication of the night sky on the day Hope was born because Cas apparently knew where every freakin’ star in the sky was- was warm in the dim.
They both stared at their daughter then winced when she drew a breath to cry again--
"Little One," Cas began, and Hope actually closed her mouth and seemed to listen, "you are as loved as you could ever possibly be here and more. Do not be afraid-- we are not leaving you, I promise. Now you must rest and let us rest. We have long lives ahead of us and we need our sleep."
Hope yawned. The whole room was calmer, like a weight had been lifted from it.
"Did she actually..." Dean hesitated, "Did she understand all that?"
"Not the words, no. Of course not. She will not have that kind of a grasp on language until she is two, " Cas replied, "but she understood the meaning perfectly, I think. It looks like now all she needs is a lullaby and she will sleep soundly."
Three verses in to "Hey Jude", Hope was sound asleep but Dean and Cas stayed there for the rest of the song, watching over her. Then, once they'd gotten their assurance that she was peaceful, they wandered back to their bed and slept.
- Fin