Chapter Text
"All I'm saying, Cas—all I've ever been saying—is that this doesn't have to be all bad, does it? Like, maybe there are a few good things to the whole situation that you're not really considering here? I mean, Doc, do I have a point or what?"
Doctor Hurley's office has never felt so cold, so aching around Cas. Even with the antiseptic yellow wallpaper and the air of the clinic, it's never been this bad. Usually, it's one of his safe places—one of the few spaces in the world where he's ever felt like he can really air the grievances that he carries around his chest—but now, breathing deeply and looking over at Dean, Cas can find his lips and teeth and tongue, but not the words for what he's feeling.
How can he really say everything that's going on inside him when he doesn't even fully understand it? His chest burns indignantly—one clear thought emerges in a mess of wordless nonsense: how can you even look at me and say something like that? have you even been around me for the past several weeks?—and his stomach churns with anger, which is at least something other than the ever-present nausea, Cas supposes. But still, nothing's really coming together into something Cas can coherently express. Nothing's really turning into more than the untranslatable.
And the worst part of everything is Dean. Dean, looking back at Cas so earnestly, brow knotted in confusion over things that he doesn't really understand—can never fully understand, at that, because he's cis and that means that there are some things Cas experiences that Dean doesn't have access to—and lips set in a tight line. The worst part is Dean and how he's trying so hard to find a bright side in this mess of shit that they've found themselves in, trying so hard just to believe in Cas as though that belief can really contradict reality, can really make it so any of this gets any better.
And even as he digs his nails into his thigh, even as he rubs his own lips together and stares down at Doctor Hurley's desk, Cas wants so badly for Dean's vision of things to be the one that wins out. He wants to be as strong as Dean thinks he is, as invincible and as able to handle this pregnancy as Dean wants him to be.
But, on the other hand—"Please, Dean, tell me where the positive aspects of this are supposed to be. Because I can't see them. I've tried to see them—and you, of all people, ought to know that I've tried—but forgive me, because I just don't see how or where I'm supposed to be happy about any of this."
Cas rolls his eyes so hard that they almost fall out of his skull when Dean insists, "But we could have a family, Cas. You and me. And without having to go through all the shit we'd have to do for an adoption. And maybe money would be an issue, but we could make something work, you know? We've gone through shit that's as bad as this before and we can do it again, right?"
"Wrong," Cas says without even pausing to consider other responses, only taking Dean's wobbling, dewy-eyed facial expression into account after he's said this and Dean's face has gotten worse. "I know that you want a family, Dean, and I want to have one with you as well. But not now, and not like this. We've proven that we can make things up as we go, yes, but this is not a situation that I'm comfortable with just continuing. You know that. I've told you that so many times by now. And this is not a matter of family or no family—"
"Maybe it is to me, did you ever think of that? I mean, what if we don't get another chance at this? What if adoption never happens—"
"This is not. a matter. of family. or no family," Cas says again and even through his denim, feels his nails scraping into his skin. "It's a matter of my body, and my bodily autonomy, and my being allowed to make my own decisions about what to do with my body. And, Dean…" Cas sighs more than he means to do, hangs his head and rubs hard at the bridge of his nose. "Dean, I need you to stand with me on this. I need you to support me… Doctor Hurley, please, tell him that he's approaching this matter in entirely the wrong way?"
That's really the only reason why Dean's at therapy with Cas in the first place: so Cas can get some kind of support on the issue of how Dean hasn't been handling any of this well at all.
But all Doctor Hurley does is tuck a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear and fold her large, delicate hands on her desk. She scoots her chair closer and leans toward them, and after a moment of just watching Dean and Cas, she says, "I think what both of you need to do, in this instance and during the rest of this ordeal, is resolve to communicate more openly with each other. This might be asking a lot of both of you, but it's going to be for the better, in the long run. Cas, for instance: instead of trying to have me intervene in your relationship, I want you to try telling Dean what's going on inside your head right now."
She pauses, for just a moment, and leans closer to him still. "What are you thinking about how Dean's handled this? And more importantly, what are you feeling?"
Groaning, Cas slouches back in his chair. Immediately, he wants to kick himself for doing this. It pushes his belly out more prominently, so that it strains against his t-shirt and pushes the stupid fabric up—but as he yanks on the hem and tries to pull it back into place, he manages to say, "I think that he's handled it terribly, and I think this should be fairly obvious? But I feel…" Cas huffs, rolls his eyes, needs to take a moment just to parse everything out—feelings have no damned right to be this fucking difficult.
Apparently, he's quiet for long enough that Dean decides to chime in, "It's okay, Cas. Seriously. Just let it all out, okay—I can take it."
"Dean, please," Doctor Hurley tells him, holding up a hand as though that might actually keep Dean quiet. "Let him speak on his own time."
"I feel like Dean isn't listening to me. About anything," Cas says, spitting the words out just so Dean can't get it in his head to keep talking when it's explicitly Cas's turn. "I know that there are some things about this that he can never understand. And he knows that, too—he's been… really, exceedingly good about trying to do the right thing without necessarily understanding everything that's going on for me. And I appreciate that, I do, it's just…"
Cas heaves a deep breath and tries to ignore the way his stomach pushes against his shirt all over again. "I suppose I feel like his desire for a family means more to him than the fact that carrying this pregnancy to term could kill me? I know it doesn't make any sense, but—"
"But it's a feeling," Dean says, voice quiet. "It doesn't have to make sense." He pauses and reaches for Cas's hand, doesn't say anything more until Cas laces their fingers together and lets Dean give him a squeeze.
"Since we're airing them and all, I guess I just feel like… like you're trying to do this all on your own? Like you don't remember that there are people here who care about you and want to help—and not just me, but like… okay, the whole dinner with your family thing wasn't a great idea, but… Bela, and Anna, and Rachel all want to help. And Gabriel, too, I guess. And I feel like you're telling all of us to just fuck off and pulling away from us again, and no offense, Cas, but… you pulling away from us doesn't exactly have a good history?"
"I suppose it doesn't." Considering that Cas pulling away from people has usually precipitated disordered eating relapses or suicidal ideation, Cas can't entirely blame Dean for worrying. "For what it's worth, I haven't been consciously trying to pull away. I just feel like there's so much going on and like you don't entirely respect my decision not to have this baby. So… if I need to try harder to be more open with the people in my support network, then I don't feel it's too much to ask that you try harder to more actively support my decision? Don't talk about having a family, don't focus so much on the future, just… help me deal with this problem? The one that's right here in front of us?"
Cas isn't sure what he expects, but his heart still surges with warm relief when Dean nods and says, "Okay. Yeah… that sounds good to me."