Sam had almost gotten used to the idea of a pregnant angel, a pregnant male angel his brother had impregnated. It wasn't like Castiel had looked pregnant after all. Sam just figured it was all happening in his original form. The one that lived in another dimension where it couldn't burn people's eyes away. He figured one day there'd just be a new, smaller sort of person that was a strange mixture of Dean and Castiel. Who the hell knew how Nephilim biology worked?
He hadn't expected - he really hadn't expected to be dragged into the bathroom by Dean some random number of months later to find.
"Oh dear God."
"Many parts of it are not visible in this dimension," Castiel says quietly from where he's standing by the sink, looking tired and dishevelled.
Sam doesn't want to think about other parts. There are more than enough parts here already.
Dean makes a worried noise. "Should he be see-through? I mean that's not bad is it? That I can see all his insides?" He leans closer to the huge mass of suspended organs, gloop and electric blue light. Sam makes an abortive attempt to pull him away, which turns into a full-body twitch when Castiel turns to look at him.
"The fusing of our separate natures was complicated," Castiel reassures Dean. "A being of flesh and an ancient wavelength of celestial intent do not mix easily."
Dean's leant over the bath, fingers close but not touching, like he's afraid to break the squidgy sac of gelatinous horror that the organs are floating in.
"I thought the Nephilim would look..." Sam flounders for something that isn't an insult, something that doesn't in any way contain the words 'less gross.' "More like us."
"I'm not designed for...gestation," Castiel explains. Then he goes quiet, while they all watch Dean and Castiel's child ooze his way from one side of the bath to the other. "I think our child wanted to be equal parts of us."
"He's awesome," Dean says quietly, in a weird, awed sort of voice. Castiel quietly moves closer to Dean's shoulder.
Sam stares at them both.
-
Dean calls him 'Destiel.'
Sam thinks that's a stupid name. But Sam has no say in the matter now Dean's gone insane.
When Sam gets back from buying breakfast he discovers that Dean has somehow managed to get Destiel into a Metallica t-shirt. He's slowly oozing his way out of one of the arm holes. Eventually the shirt is just a soggy, slimy mess on the carpet, and Destiel is a foot away. A slow, undulating disc of organs and electricity. Like the world's most terrifying jelly mould. Sam's half convinced that the lungs are looking at him.
When Dean gets back he pulls a face at the soggy t-shirt and then his child, who's oozed a good four feet away and is now slowly and curiously trying to absorb one of Dean's boots into itself. Possibly even on purpose.
"Hey, Cas, he didn't like his t-shirt."
Castiel drifts to where Dean is very carefully retrieving his boot from among his son's internal organs and various gelatinous insides. He's muttering something about how shoes aren't good for him and to keep them away from his vulnerable organs.
"It likely has trouble keeping its form at this temperature. Perhaps it would be more comfortable if put in the freezer for a brief period."
"We're not putting him in the freezer," Dean says stiffly.
"It would help -"
"Kids don't go in the freezer," Dean snaps, and that's clearly the end of the matter.
Sam keeps changing channels and ignores absolutely everything. _
Destiel doesn't sleep. It takes after its...mom? dad? So when Sam gets up in the middle of the night for a glass of water, the Eldritch Horror that is his older brother's new baby is sitting - pooled - in the middle of the kitchenette. Sam very nearly steps in it. He watches the organs slowly float into different configurations while he empties a glass. He doesn't miss the way his nephew has sucked his way across the floor towards him.
"It's not you," Sam says quietly, feeling like an idiot in the silence. "You're just weird."
Destiel is holding one of Sam's ankles with one of its droopy body-tentacles, squishing and gently electrocuting his skin in a way that feels like a cry for attention, or an awkward and alien attempt at affection.
It occurs to Sam, that he's actually an Uncle, and a really bad one
no subject
He hadn't expected - he really hadn't expected to be dragged into the bathroom by Dean some random number of months later to find.
"Oh dear God."
"Many parts of it are not visible in this dimension," Castiel says quietly from where he's standing by the sink, looking tired and dishevelled.
Sam doesn't want to think about other parts. There are more than enough parts here already.
Dean makes a worried noise. "Should he be see-through? I mean that's not bad is it? That I can see all his insides?" He leans closer to the huge mass of suspended organs, gloop and electric blue light. Sam makes an abortive attempt to pull him away, which turns into a full-body twitch when Castiel turns to look at him.
"The fusing of our separate natures was complicated," Castiel reassures Dean. "A being of flesh and an ancient wavelength of celestial intent do not mix easily."
Dean's leant over the bath, fingers close but not touching, like he's afraid to break the squidgy sac of gelatinous horror that the organs are floating in.
"I thought the Nephilim would look..." Sam flounders for something that isn't an insult, something that doesn't in any way contain the words 'less gross.' "More like us."
"I'm not designed for...gestation," Castiel explains. Then he goes quiet, while they all watch Dean and Castiel's child ooze his way from one side of the bath to the other. "I think our child wanted to be equal parts of us."
"He's awesome," Dean says quietly, in a weird, awed sort of voice. Castiel quietly moves closer to Dean's shoulder.
Sam stares at them both.
-
Dean calls him 'Destiel.'
Sam thinks that's a stupid name. But Sam has no say in the matter now Dean's gone insane.
When Sam gets back from buying breakfast he discovers that Dean has somehow managed to get Destiel into a Metallica t-shirt. He's slowly oozing his way out of one of the arm holes. Eventually the shirt is just a soggy, slimy mess on the carpet, and Destiel is a foot away. A slow, undulating disc of organs and electricity. Like the world's most terrifying jelly mould. Sam's half convinced that the lungs are looking at him.
When Dean gets back he pulls a face at the soggy t-shirt and then his child, who's oozed a good four feet away and is now slowly and curiously trying to absorb one of Dean's boots into itself. Possibly even on purpose.
"Hey, Cas, he didn't like his t-shirt."
Castiel drifts to where Dean is very carefully retrieving his boot from among his son's internal organs and various gelatinous insides. He's muttering something about how shoes aren't good for him and to keep them away from his vulnerable organs.
"It likely has trouble keeping its form at this temperature. Perhaps it would be more comfortable if put in the freezer for a brief period."
"We're not putting him in the freezer," Dean says stiffly.
"It would help -"
"Kids don't go in the freezer," Dean snaps, and that's clearly the end of the matter.
Sam keeps changing channels and ignores absolutely everything.
_
Destiel doesn't sleep. It takes after its...mom? dad? So when Sam gets up in the middle of the night for a glass of water, the Eldritch Horror that is his older brother's new baby is sitting - pooled - in the middle of the kitchenette. Sam very nearly steps in it. He watches the organs slowly float into different configurations while he empties a glass. He doesn't miss the way his nephew has sucked his way across the floor towards him.
"It's not you," Sam says quietly, feeling like an idiot in the silence. "You're just weird."
Destiel is holding one of Sam's ankles with one of its droopy body-tentacles, squishing and gently electrocuting his skin in a way that feels like a cry for attention, or an awkward and alien attempt at affection.
It occurs to Sam, that he's actually an Uncle, and a really bad one