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"What do you think of Beckham?"
"You don't care about soccer at all."
"Why soccer?"
"Forget it, Dean."
Dean stared at his cell phone in wonder. Drizzle clouded the view in front of him.
"Or Peter?"
"Do we really have to discuss this now?" Sam asked.
"Hey, I'm driving around for you in the middle of the night because you're suddenly craving fries!"
"For the hundredth time. YOU want fries, I just wanted a milkshake."
"Yeah, sure. Because every time for the past three weeks I've brought you exactly what you've been craving, only to have you eat my food afterwards. Forget it, Sam. You'll get your own portion."
"I don't want fries. I just wanted a milkshake...and a salad."
"You didn't say anything about salad." Dean replied, operating the windshield wipers.
"I didn't know I had to point that out every time," Sam pouted, and Dean wanted so badly to counter, but on the other hand he was so happy Sam had finally put on a few pounds.
Even though his belly had gotten significantly bigger and the three puppies had more space, Sam himself seemed to be getting less and less.
Therefore Dean was grateful for every opportunity in which Sam was actually hungry. Even if it was a damn chocolate-vanilla (the chocolate first Dean!) milkshake at two in the morning.
"Come on, Sam, it's dark and I still have twenty minutes to drive, so …what about Jim?"
Sam knew that at some point they had to choose names for the little ones, but there were limits to the names.
"Dean, we talked about this, no names too close."
Dean nodded until he remembered Sam wasn't sitting next to him. A quick glance to his passenger seat, then he refocused on the road ahead.
"What about artists?"
"What do you mean?"
"Band members. We could name the kids after the Stones. Or , hah, what about Led Zeppelin?" he laughed triumphantly.
"Dean?"
Okay, Dean doesn't know how, but he could swear he could recognize Sam's bitchface through the phone.
"What?"
Sam sighed. "What are the names of the members of Led Zeppelin ?"
"Robert Palmer, Jimmy Page, John ... oh..."
"..."
"Okay, then you suggest something."
"I suggest you concentrate on driving so you can get here safely, in spite of the rain."
"Is it about me or about your milkshake?"
"Maybe both."
"I knew it."
"Ouch."
"You okay, baby?"
"Yeah, your sons just seem to be fighting over my spleen right now."
"Hey! Why are they mine now?"
"Because you put your Alpha dick..."
"Wow, okay Sammy, I get it, not in the mood for jokes." Sam's changing food preferences were only surpassed by his mood swings. But Dean just couldn't stay mad at him. One look at his heavily pregnant Omega and Dean would lay the world at his feet. Or just a chocolate-vanilla milkshake with the chocolate on the bottom.
"How about Luke? Huh? I mean, come on, he's a Jedi Knight."
"Since when are you interested in Star Wars?"
"Ouch Sam, who got you the first VHS tape?"
"You did, Dean."
"Damn right."
"Okay."
Dean stared at the phone. "W..Wait. Does that mean you're okay with it?"
Dean held his breath and heard Sam thinking on the other side.
"Why not. I like Luke."
Dean thrust a fist in the air until Sam interrupted him.
"But we're not calling the other one Han!"
"Sam..."
"No, Dean."
"All right." Dean pouted and bit into a fry.
"Are you eating?"
"M'no.."
"You're not eating all the fries, are you?"
"You said you didn't want any!"
"Well, that's true."
"So?"
"But maybe one..."
"Hah, I knew it."
"Just don't eat it all before you get here."
"Fine. But you're keeping your hands off my burger."
"You got a burger? Dean, it's two in the morning! Will you think about your cholesterol for once?"
"All the time. I think about nothing else," Dean said, taking another fry from the bag.
"What about William?" Dean tried to distract his brother.
"Like Shakespeare?"
"I was thinking more like Shatner, but whatever."
"It's..."
To Dean's surprise, Sam remained silent.
"Sam?"
"Mmm."
Cautiously, Dean inquired.
"Is that a yes mmh, or a no mmh, or a don't get on my nerves mmh?"
"Mmh."
Frustrated, Dean rolled his eyes.
"Come on Sammy, I'll be right there."
"I thought we'd find the names together and somehow be more romantic about it."
"What do you mean more romantic? And we're together right now."
Sam sighs. "I thought we'd go through the name books I picked up and we'd look for appropriate names, not, ‘Oh, let's name our kid after an author."
"Actor."
"Whatever."
Dean steered the Impala onto the country road that led to the bunker. "If it means that much to you, tomorrow we can pick the girl's name out of one of your books..."
"Hope."
"What?"
"The name. Hope. That's her name."
Dean paused for a moment, listening to Sam's breathing.
"I know we should decide this together, and if you don't like the name, Dean, then say so and we'll look again.
"Hope is a pretty name."
"Really?"
"Yes, really.“ Dean smiled as he parked Baby.
Armed with two greasy bags, he strode from the garage down the hall to the kitchen. In the artificial light, Sam seemed even paler than usual. But he was also surrounded by a glow since the start of the pregnancy that Dean could not put into words.
Dean put the bags down and went to his brother. "Hey." He whispered against Sam's forehead and kissed him gently on the temple.
Slowly, Sam rose and walked toward the bags. He fumbled a french fry out of the bag and munched on it instantly. Then he eyed the contents. A burger special (with half a bag of fries), an extra large fries with little salt. A mixed green salad with the dressing on the side, and two chocolate vanilla milkshakes with the chocolate on the bottom.
"Two?" asked Sam, eating another of Dean's fries.
"I felt like it." Dean shrugged, hugging his brother from behind.
Dean's hands rested protectively on Sam's belly.
"Hey, kids, don't take up so much space from your daddy."
Sam leaned back, enjoying the intimate moment.
"William, Luke, and Hope," Sam whispered, eyes half open.
Dean would put the salad away. And the fries. And the milkshakes. He would tuck Sam into bed and wrap him in the blanket. And then he would hug him and not let go.
And if Sam wanted a strawberry milkshake in two hours?
Dean would drive. Because he would do everything for his family.
Everything.