Work Header

Just Shut Your Eyes and Breathe (and then laugh hysterically)

Work Text:

“You gotta be fucking shitting me,” Dean managed to get out, his eyes wide as he stared at Castiel. There wasn’t much that could surprise him, not after everything they’ve gone through, not after all the shit the world had tossed at him, but this takes the cake.

Castiel blinked up at Dean, which should have been just as surprising as the news that he had just given, because, seriously, sometimes it seemed as if the angel never blinked.

Dean didn’t think the guy even had to blink.

Fucking angels.

“I assure you, I am not… kidding you,” Castiel responded, halting over the words awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure he was using the term correctly.

Any other time, Dean would have found this hilarious. He always took a perverse amount of delight in the angel’s lack of knowledge over current phrases and references. Right now though, he couldn’t find anything funny.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever find anything funny ever again.

He sat down on the edge of the motel bed, his face pale, making his freckles stand out in stark relief. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the fog that seemed to be creeping forward, but to no avail.

Fuck. Just… fuck.

This could not be happening.

“You realize that you’re a dude, right?” He asked, sparing Cas a brief glance, just to be sure. Cas could be weird sometimes. Maybe he had just gotten the whole anatomy thing mixed up.

It was unlikely though, and Dean knew it. Castiel may be naïve, but he wasn’t stupid.

He clenched his eyes shut and tried to resist the urge to tug violently on his hair.

Or vomit. Yeah, vomiting was definitely going to be present in his future.

Which is ironic because… well, just because.

“This vessel is, yes.” Castiel responded, in that tone that he reserved for times when he felt as if Dean was being especially dim.

Which made no sense, really. This was hardly Dean’s fault.

Or maybe it was.

It was his dick’s fault, definitely.

“Guys can’t get pregnant!” Dean cried out, in what he would later claim was not a hysterical shriek. He was Dean Fucking Winchester. He did not shriek.

Even if his angel boyfriend did just poof into the motel room he was staying in to inform him that he was pregnant with Dean’s child.

Fuck his life.

This is what made the whole irony thing ironic though.

“I am neither male nor female. I am an angel, and we are genderless, as some humans would say. Or perhaps they would say we are both genders,” Castiel informed him then, looking completely unfazed by Dean’s outburst. He stood in the exact same spot he had poofed into, his hands, those gorgeous, long fingered hands that Dean really needed to stop thinking about like that, since it was what fucking got him into this situation in the first place, or at least one of a number of things, locked behind his back, and his legs spread wide to support his weight, every single part of him seeming to scream with a calmness Dean would envy, if he wasn’t so busy freaking out.

Or… not. Winchesters didn’t freak out. He was not freaking out.

Much, at least.


“Yeah but… this can’t be happening,” Dean wheezed, seconds away from hyperventilating.

“You are not taking this well,” Castiel informed him, as if this would be news to him. Which, really, Dean was the one kinda-sorta, but not really freaking out here. He knew he wasn’t taking this well. He dropped his head into his hands and just tried to breathe, in and out, in and out, over and over again, his lungs burning. And fuck, his head was spinning. He was afraid he was going to black out.

Which… no, Winchesters did not black out. That was mere steps away from fainting, and Christ, he was not some weak willed little girl.

“You should have fucking told me that this was possible dude,” he growled out suddenly, his teeth clenched as he opened his eyes to glare up at the angel, once he was sure his vision wouldn’t be all spotty. “I would have, I don’t know, kept my god damn dick to myself, or… used a damn condom or something.”

“It is hardly my fault that you jumped me that one time in the warehouse and had no means of protection on your body,” Cas snapped back, except, he wasn’t snapping. Of course not. The bastard seemed completely unruffled.


“You could of summoned some, or something, for Gods sakes!” Dean shrieked, and ok, yeah, he was shrieking now, but it was hardly his fault.

He was going to be a dad.

Fuck, he was going to be a dad.

He dropped his head between his knees and breathed in and out, gulping in shallow, shaky breathes.

This could not be happening.

“So…” Castiel said, and when Dean raised his head just slightly, surprised by the hesitance in the angel’s tone, he saw that he was fidgeting now, obviously unsure, “how long before I say the words, gotcha?” he asked, his thin, chapped lips quirking up in a barely there smile.

Dean blinked, surprised.

And then blinked again.

And then it hit him.

“You fucker,” he growled, jumping off of the bed and stalking towards Cas, his fist clenched. “You goddamn, fucking fucker. Sammy put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“He informed me that it would be humorous, yes,” Cas told him, outright grinning now.

Dean growled again, ready to wipe that smug expression right off the angel’s face, except… it looked pretty damn good on the guy, and he found himself fisting the slighter man’s trench coat between tight fists as he yanked him forward for a harsh kiss.

“We should perhaps turn the video camera off first,” Cas muttered, his arms wrapped around Dean tightly now, only moving his lips away from Dean’s enough to get the words out.

And… what? Dean was going to kill Sammy.


Much later.

Right now he had an angel to punish.

“We’ll deal with it later,” he told him, and dragged him off towards the bed.