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CONCEPTION (WEEK 0-2)
House flamboyantly typed away at his keyboard, acting a little too much like Jim Carrey for Wilson’s liking.
“Nice to see you actually working,” he said, walking in.
“Wilson!” House paused his theatrical writing (which he had obviously been doing for the bit) and looked up at him. “What brings you to my evil lair?”
“Uh, it’s lunch time?” Wilson folded his arms. “I assume you still want to get some?”
“I always want to get some.” House stood up, leaning on his cane and shot Wilson a conspiratorial wink. Wilson rolled his eyes. He had only himself to blame for walking right into that one.
They meandered to the cafeteria, chatting absently. It was teriyaki day, which meant that House could haggle for extra chicken, which was probably why he was in such a good mood.
Wilson watched him chew his food and talk with his mouth full (both disgusting and adorable) and tried not to give heart eyes–he did not need to be teased by Lisa Cuddy any more than he already was.
“You should come see my new experiment,” House said, swallowing. He coughed a bit, and Wilson leaned forward with concern.
“Ugh, I’m fine,” House said, clearing his throat. “Wrong pipe.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Wilson said mildly, stabbing his chicken.
“Maybe I don’t care,” House said. Wilson rolled his eyes.
“What experiment?” He asked.
“It’s a surprise,” House said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll dissect you on the table, rearrange your guts…”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Wilson muttered. House chuckled and stole a bite of rice from his plate.
The teriyaki wasn’t half bad, which meant that Wilson ate almost all of his food (minus the bites that House stole). He was in a good mood. They rode the elevator upstairs, good-naturedly bickering about whether or not Graciela the lunch lady added extra spice to the meal of the day.
Wilson followed House as he walked to a lab on his floor. He was curious (and nervous) about what the ‘experiment’ was. A big part of him was sure that it had something to do with him. House’s schemes usually did.
House clunked around the lab while Wilson stood awkwardly watching him. His eyes wandered but eventually (and inevitably) locked on House. Wilson traced his eyes around House’s legs, his arms, his—well, anyways. Wilson swallowed and looked away. He rubbed his forehead, disappointed with himself. They were friends, just friends.
Just friends who live together and do everything together, he thought wryly.
House suddenly appeared way too close to him, making Wilson jump a bit before he realized that House was holding something.
“A petri dish? They already invented penicillin,” he scoffed snarkily.
House gave him a glare. “Just smell what happens when I do this.” He waved the petri dish in the air randomly. Wilson rolled his eyes, then leaned forward to smell.
House leaned forward at the same time, and their lips met. Wilson paused in shock, realizing far too slowly that House was kissing him. Gregory. House. Was kissing him. Well, he thought, when in Rome… He clutched House’s shirt collar with one hand and grabbed his bicep with the other and moved in closer, attempting (a little desperately) to kiss him deeper.
“OW! What the hell?” He pulled away and looked down. House pulled out the giant needle he had jabbed in Wilson’s abdomen. He met House’s curious look and shoved him.
“You asshole. I hate you.”
House smirked. “I don’t think you do, based on how you kissed me back.”
Wilson rubbed at the blush that started to heat his face. “Jerk.”
House’s face softened. “Part of my experiment,” he said, looking away. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“With what?” Wilson grumped. “You stabbed me!”
“With this!” House whipped away a cloth dramatically to show a collection of juice bottles. Wilson curiously picked one up, and then raised an eyebrow.
“They’re all open.”
“So what? I don’t like them, so you get them.”
He sighed, and then picked up the collection. “You owe me more than just juice,” he said grumpily. “You probably gave me an STD.”
“No,” House said thoughtfully. “But I still can.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.
Wilson huffed, and left the room. House watched him leave, a pensive look on his face.
0-0-0-0-0
House returned to his office, happily ignoring his ducklings in the room next.
He pulled the shades down, sat in his chair, and leaned his head forward in prayer.
There was a swishing sound, and he looked up at the man that had appeared. He was wearing a tan trenchcoat and had unkempt dark hair, accompanied by his piercing blue eyes. Not as light as his own, but still pretty damn bright.
“You were successful,” the man said. Well, not man. Angel.
“How astute,” House said wryly.
“My turn.”
“Okay, greedy-guts.” House handed him a needle similar to the one he impaled in Wilson’s lower abdomen. “Just be sure to keep the needle clean.”
The man nodded sagely. “I am familiar with needles and other medical instruments.”
“Okay, weirdo.” He handed him the needle. “Hope you and whoever have a good time.”
The angel gave him a weird look.
“Oh, don’t forget the serum,” House said, grabbing a container of juice. He handed it to the angel, who took it easily. “Each dosage is in the juice. Just have them drink it each morning.” The angel nodded pensively. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” House turned a full 360 degrees in his swivel chair, and by the time he went all the way around, the angel was gone.
0-0-0-0-0
FIRST TRIMESTER (WEEK 2-12)
“Why,” Sam drawled impatiently, “are you acting like this?”
“Maybe I’ve been cursed,” Dean muttered, pacing the room.
“It’s probably just food poisoning!” Sam threw his hands up. “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic! There’s something definitely wrong. I can feel it.”
“You can…feel it.”
“Yes. Trust the heeby-jeebies, Sammy. Heeby-jeebies have never led me astray.” Sam grumbled something under his breath, but Dean ignored him.
Something seriously was wrong. Dean never got sick. It was probably all the exposure to motel germs he’d had as a kid. Built up his immune system, or somethin’. And he never got anxious. Moody? Sure. Angry? Yeah, most of the time. But anxious? Never.
At least, until now.
“Dean.”
Dean whirled around to where Cas had appeared.
“Thank goodness,” he said, sending a petulant glare at Sam. Sam stuck his tongue out like the child he is. “Something is definitely wrong with me. I’ve been cursed.”
Cas looked at him in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked, moving forward, almost touching Dean, before his arm dropped.
“I’m sick!” Dean cried in despair. “I never get sick! I’m a manly… manly man! Men don’t get sick!”
Cas raised an eyebrow.
“He’s also got ‘the heeby-jeebies’,” Sam said, using his fingers as quotation marks.
“They’re a real problem! The last time this happened I was hit with that fear curse!”
“I’m sure you’re fine, Dean,” Cas said placidly.
“Are you sure?” Dean rubbed his arms. Sam muttered something along the lines of “oh, so when he says it…”.
“I’m very sure.” Cas pinched Dean’s sleeve and dragged him towards the door. “Let’s go for a drive, get you out of the house.”
Sam shook his head in bemusement.
He waited till they left, and then he stalked towards the fridge. He glared pensively at the bottles of juice that Cas had given Dean.
He opened one and sniffed it. It…just smelled like orange juice. It looked like orange juice. But for some reason… only Dean could drink them. Even though there was a million bottles and no way he’d drink all of them by himself by the time they expired. Sam sniffed it again.
Hmmm. Just juice.
0-0-0-0-0
House watched in amusement as Wilson ate his Chinese takeout with gusto.
“You seem hungry,” he said, taking a bite of his own food.
“Starved,” Wilson said, his mouth full. House thought he looked adorable.
“You want drinks after this?” House asked slyly. Wilson glared at him over his chopsticks and shook his head.
“Didn’t like what happened last time?”
“You,” Wilson sputtered, “...I’m not answering that.”
House smirked into his food.
“Don’t,” Wilson pointed a finger at him.
“I didn’t say anything.” House snaked an arm across the back of the couch and began fiddling with the hair at the nape of Wilson’s neck.
“I hate you,” he muttered. But he didn’t move away.
0-0-0-0-0
SECOND TRIMESTER (WEEK 13-27)
“Dean,” Cas pleaded.
The door remained closed.
“Dean, please.”
Nothing. Cas sighed, and opened the door.
Dean was lying on the bed in a starfish-like position, and Cas momentarily feared for his life. But then Dean snored loudly, and Cas could breathe again.
“Dean?” He approached the bed and paused momentarily when Dean looked at him blearily over the handgun he had pulled out from underneath his pillow.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “S’just you.” He grunted and rolled over.
“Dean.”
“Hmm?”
“I have something to tell you.”
Dean sat up and stretched his arms above his head. He looked closer at Cas’ face and chuckled. “Y’look nervous. I’m not going to bite. What’s up?”
Cas looked down at his feet.
“Hey,” Dean said gently. “It’s okay. Tell me what’s up.”
“You’re pregnant,” Cas blurted out finally. It came out gruff and pained, like he didn’t want to say it. And he didn’t.
Dean started laughing. He pushed the blankets aside and clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Cas, buddy, it doesn’t work that way.” He leaned over to grab some day clothes from the dresser, and Castiel turned to watch him.
“Dean.”
“Cas,” Dean looked up and met his eyes. “I know I’ve put on a little weight, but I’m a guy! Guys can’t get pregnant.”
Cas followed Dean into the kitchen once he put on his clothes, passing Sam sipping coffee at his computer. Sam paused, folded his arms, and glared at Cas.
“Cas,” Sam said darkly. “Tell him everything.” Dean stiffened and then turned around abruptly.
“Oh c’mon. Don’t tell me you believe him! I can’t get pregnant, Sam!”
“But think about it, Dean! Three months ago you were moody and emotional—” “Hey!” “—and you threw up like every morning. You crave the most random combinations of food, way more than usual anyway, and you’ve put on weight, and–”
“I can’t be pregnant!” Dean shouted. “I am a red-blooded American male all the way through! If you want to check, be my guest,” Sam grimaced, “but you guys are insane if you think I have a literal human child within me right now.”
Dean is upset, Cas thought observantly. He had to rectify this.
“I impregnated you using a formula developed in New Jersey.” Dean whirled on him.
“What?”
“I impregnated you.”
“I heard you, asshole, what did you mean by the rest?” Dean snapped.
“You were sad,” Cas shrugged. “I knew you missed Claire and Jack. I knew you wanted a family. I thought this would make you happy.”
Dean stared at him.
Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “And then I became embarrassed. So I didn’t say anything. Until Sam bullied me into it this morning.”
“Bully you?!” Sam screeched. “You got my brother pregnant! I was encouraging communication!”
“How the hell am I pregnant?” Dean marched and grabbed Cas by the shoulders. “How?”
Cas met his eyes while Sam rambled hysterically about potential ramifications. “A bisexual doctor in New Jersey prayed to me about helping him with a medical miracle for him and his partner. My condition was that in exchange I received a portion of the product.”
“You didn’t think that, oh I dunno, we could adopt?!”
“It didn’t occur to me,” Cas muttered, frowning.
“It didn’t occur to you?!” Dean screeched.
“There’s so many things wrong with this. Morally, physically, emotionally—” Sam said.
“Well I apologize that I didn’t consider the ‘moral ramifications’ of this ‘abomination of science’, Sam,” Cas snarked, using his fingers as quotations.
Dean pressed a hand over his eyes. “Cas…”
Sam and Cas turned to him. He looked at both of them, one at a time.
“I wanted to make you happy,” Cas said quietly. “I just don’t always know how.”
Dean squeezed Cas’ bicep affectionately. “You’re insane. You know that?”
Sam scoffed at the heart eyes the two were giving each other. But he softened, and clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Well, you’re pregnant. Congratulations.”
The smile fell from Dean’s face. “Holy shit. I’m pregnant.” And he began to hyperventilate.
0-0-0-0-0
“GET. OUT.”
House flinched as the broom hit him one more time and the door slammed. “Women,” he murmured.
But the thing was…it wasn’t a woman. It was his best friend whom he got knocked up using his brilliance, a bit of angel magic, a hella long syringe, and a drunk night.
Was he an asshole? Well, yeah, obviously. It was kinda his M.O. And he also wasn’t an asshole just for this. But he was curious, and he liked doing things that weren’t allowed.
Week fourteen: rapid fetal growth and movement, and the mother usually feels more energetic, he recited mentally to himself. He shook his head. He sat on the stairs, stretching his leg out in front of him.
The mother being, in this case, Wilson.
God, was he beautiful though. House initially hadn’t thought it would work, so he had made sure to ‘knock up’ Chase (minus the sex part) and trusted someone else to do the rest. (That of course will not be relevant in this story later at all.) Anyways, Wilson was at the point of being all glowy and radiant and it made House melt on the inside.
Not on the outside though. He had to maintain his reputation of course.
He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Cuddy. It went to voicemail. He called her again. Straight to voicemail. He called her again. And again. And again. And agai—
“What do you want, House?”
“Cuddy! Wilson kicked me out again,” he made a pouty-lip, very sure she could hear it through the phone.
“You deserved it, I’m sure.”
“I have never deserved anything bad ever.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, has he done anything else weird recently? If he is, I plan to call in a favor from some friends to come look at him…”
Dangerous territory. If Cuddy knew…House shuddered in terror. She could not know.
“Oh, he’s fine,” House said smoothly. “Couldn’t be better!”
Cuddy hummed.
“Gotta go, wife’s throwing a bitch-fit again. Call you later!” He said, then hung up. He rubbed his beard. While he wasn’t a gynecologist by any means besides some occasional studies with some local strippers, he was a decent enough doctor to take care of Wilson without him being the wiser.
After all, it was his baby too.
0-0-0-0-0
THIRD TRIMESTER (WEEK 28–DELIVERY)
Lisa Cuddy was not stupid.
She knew something was wrong with her oncologist, Dr. James Wilson. Well, something other than being head-over-heels-in-gay-love with Gregory House, of all people.
It started small.
He lost his cool. Shouted at someone, immediately apologized. But that was something that never happened. He vomited daily for weeks, and then suddenly had a bigger appetite than ever before. And there was that feeling that she felt whenever she was around him…
The only time she had felt something that powerful was before a brief one-night-stand with a very young but very sexy ghost-hunter. He and his brother had gotten rid of a ghost in her mother’s house. She had shown her thanks (and had a great time) and then they parted ways, leaving her their number.
She dialed the number using her personal phone. If it was nothing, it was nothing. But if it was something…
“Hello?” A soft but confident voice answered.
“Hi, I’m looking for Dean or Sam Winchester?”
“Who’s asking?” The voice turned a little harsher, but Cuddy just rolled her eyes.
“My name is Lisa Cuddy, in New Jersey? You helped my mother with a ghost once.”
“Oh, yeah, hey Lisa. This is Sam. What can we do for ya?”
“I’ve got something weird going on with one of my oncologists at the hospital. It seems like it would be more your area of expertise than mine,” she said simply.
“Oh yeah! We can come check it out no problem. You’re at Princeton-Plainsboro, right?”
She nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see her. “That’s the one. Might be a possession, not sure. I can debrief more once you arrive.”
“Sounds good. We’ll see you soon.” He hung up, and Cuddy put her face in her hands.
0-0-0-0-0
“You guys are going on a hunt,” Sam said. He stood imposingly moose-like in the doorway. Dean leaned back in his seat, hand coming subconsciously to his stomach. Cas’ eyes glanced briefly at Sam before zeroing in on Dean. He didn’t blink very often, Sam thought randomly. It made him uncomfortable.
“Okay,” Dean said, shrugging. “Where to?”
“Dean,” Cas warned.
Dean made a talking motion with one hand, mocking Cas. “I’m an adult man, sunshine. I got this.”
“You are in no condition to hunt.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!” Dean said haughtily. “You got me pregnant! My body and my choice.” He turned to Sam again. “Where to?”
“Princeton-Plainboro Hospital, New Jersey.” Sam swore he saw Cas pale a bit, but he chopped it up as worry about how far away it was. “Melissa Cuddy’s daughter called it in.”
Dean grinned. “I remember her. Dreamy eyes, dark hair…”
Cas’ left eye twitched.
Dean glanced at him and coughed nonchalantly. “Not that I’m interested in her anymore, of course.”
Dean sighed and stood up. “Shame I look like this though,” he said mournfully, looking at his stomach. “You look great, Dean,” Sam and Cas said in sync. Sam bitchily side-eyed Cas, who ignored him.
“I look like a beached whale,” Dean snapped. “Don’t lie to me. I’ll forever mourn the strapping figure I once had.” He sighed dejectedly and stared at the motel mirror.
0-0-0-0-0
As Dean was getting rather large, Cas was designated driver for this trip.
“Can you explain,” Dean asked as they pulled onto the highway, “a little more why you did it?”
Cas stared determinedly at the road. The Eagles played softly in the background. Eventually, he spoke.
“Like I said. You were so sad that Claire and Jack had flown the nest and began their own things. You…” He drifted off. Dean had his arms folded over his belly. Cas swallowed and quickly looked back at the road.
“You were sad,” he said finally.
Dean sighed. “Cas…”
Cas continued watching the road.
“You once said you wanted a family, Dean. The ‘apple-pie-life’ is what you said. I, I would give you anything, Dean…” He said desperately.
Dean grunted uncomfortably. He shifted in his seat and watched out the window.
Dean looked over at Cas, and holy shit he was crying. He was crying. Which made Dean want to cry. Stupid orange juice hormones.
Dean reached over and grabbed Cas’ forearm. Cas looked at him.
“Keep your eyes on the road, asshole,” Dean muttered. He wiped his eyes (he was not crying, damnit).
“Dean,” Cas said softly.
“I don’t need you to bend the laws of physics and biology to make me happy, Cas,” Dean sniffed and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to make himself feel better. “I just need you.”
0-0-0-0-0
Dean glared suspiciously at the doctor’s stomach. It looked suspiciously similar to his own…House was glaring at Dean, suspicious that he was looking at Wilson. Cas was looking away from House, trying (and failing) to avoid making eye contact in case House recognized him. Wilson was looking at Cas and frowning while attempting to smile pleasantly.
“I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”
“We’re your defense attorneys. For the people suing you for medical malpractice.” House’s eyes narrowed. He rarely had his malpractice attorneys talk to him. Every time they did, they usually quit.
“Which case is it this time?” Wilson asked curiously.
“I believe,” Cas said, whipping out a clipboard, “it was against you, Dr. Wilson.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” House muttered.
Dean was still staring at Wilson’s stomach.
“Could we ask you a few questions, Dr. Wilson?” His eyes flicked to House. “Alone?”
“This isn’t a domestic abuse case,” House snarled. “I can be in there with him.”
“Only if he wants you to,” Dean said coldly.
For some reason, House sensed Lisa Cuddy all over this. He scoffed. “Whatever. I’ll see you at lunch,” he said to Wilson, and stalked off.
Dean followed Cas and Dr. Wilson into his office. He slowly and painfully sat on his chair, and motioned them to sit in the ones across from him. Cas held out his hand and Dean used it to sit in his own seat. Stupid pregnancy. This was so not rock’n’roll.
“You’re not really here about a lawsuit, are you?” Wilson sighed.
“No,” Cas said, not unkindly.
“We think your abusive boyfriend is possessed,” Dean said bluntly.
“Dean!” Cas gaped at him.
Wilson rolled his eyes. “One, he’s not my boyfriend. Two, he’s not abusive, the worst thing he’s done is stab me with a suspicious needle. And three, he’s not possessed, he’s just like that.”
“Suspcious needle, huh?” Cas did not like the dawning realization on Dean’s face.
Cas cleared his throat. “He’s possessed.”
“By his own ego, perhaps,” Wilson smirked.
Dean was muttering to himself. Cas was very tempted to blip them out of there, case be damned.
Dean turned to Cas, eye twitching. “YOU stabbed me with a suspicious needle, didn’t ya, buddy?”
“No,” Cas said guiltily. Wilson’s eyes narrowed. He finally glanced at Dean’s stomach, so similar to his own.
“Does your partner give you a bunch of orange juice to drink every day?” He asked Dean.
“Why yes, he did.” They both turned slowly to Cas, who was trying again to avoid eye contact.
“Cas?” Dean said, voice dangerously sweet. “Do you wanna explain to the nice doctor just what happened?”
“Not particularly,” Cas muttered.
“I’m guessing it happened to you too?” Wilson gestured to Dean. Dean grimaced. “Yeah.”
“What is it?” Wilson asked. “I’ve done some testing, but House assured me it was safe.”
“Oh boy,” Dean said. “This is gonna be rough on the ears, my guy. You prob’ly won’t believe it. But this,” he jammed his thumb towards Castiel, “Is my–I mean, Cas, and he’s an angel with the power of heavenly juice in his veins. He and your buddy out there conspired to make it possible for men to get pregnant.” Dean folded his arms.
Wilson smirked. “Right. I’m pregnant with the power of God. That makes total sense. ABOUT AS MUCH SENSE AS HOUSE BEING POSSESSED!” He stood up. “You two,” he pointed with his finger, “are insane.” He threw open the office door and stormed out.
Dean sighed dramatically. Cas helped him stand up. (Dean let him. Because Cas owed him. It definitely wasn’t because Dean just wanted to be close to Cas and actually liked the help because he was heavy, damnit.)
((Yeah, definitely not because Cas was warm and strong and it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside)).
0-0-0-0-0
House threw open the door, making the poor nurse sitting opposite Cuddy jump in fright.
“Why are Bert and Ernie here interrogating Wilson?” The poor nurse scurried away, and Cuddy rolled her eyes. “Sure. Come on in, Doctor House. I’m not at all busy,” she said sarcastically. He hit the desk with his cane with a loud crack.
“Why are they here?”
Cuddy narrowed her eyes. “Why do you care? They’re just lawyers.”
“They are not lawyers,” House gritted out. “There’s something wrong with them.”
“You’re homophobic!” Cuddy exclaimed. “That’s why you’re being so bitchy about it!”
“I am not homophobic! I’m literally—” he stopped himself. “Whatever. You can’t ragebait me. I’ll outdo you every time.”
He turned on his heel and walked away. Cuddy quickly followed.
“You can’t yell at these guys,” she said, a little desperately. “They really are here to help.”
“Help who? Wilson? He’s fine, I’ve been keeping an eye on him,” he said.
“He’s sick!” She cried. “There’s something wrong with him! And with you, I’ve never seen you act like this, and it’s been happening for months! I can’t just let this go, House.”
House turned the corner, and ran directly into Wilson, causing him to fall to the ground. He fell into a sitting position with an ‘oomf’. House helped him up with concern.
“Are you alright?” He asked. Wilson leaned against him slightly, a sensation which House drank up greedily.
“Not really. Those lawyers think I’m pregnant,” he gave House a grin, expecting a biting remark about how idiotic they were.
But House had turned pale. He swallowed thickly. “I need to sit down.”
“Oh you can’t be serious,” Wilson said, throwing his hands in the air. The ‘lawyers’ approached them slowly, making eye contact with Cuddy.
“This is like a Dr. Sexy episode,” Dean stage-whispered to Cas. House narrowed his eyes at him.
“You can’t seriously believe something as outrageous as this. You’re a diagnostics expert,” Wilson looked pleadingly at House. “You know that men, specifically me, can’t get pregnant.” He side-eyed Dean. “Not sure about him…”
“Hey!”
Cas put a hand on Dean’s chest to stop him from punching him.
Cuddy turned to Dean and Cas. “What does he mean, ‘pregnant’? I mean, you’ve both gained a little weight, but it’s impossible…”
House groaned and banged his cane on the ground.
“Fine fine fine. I’m sick of all this. You,” he pointed at Dean, “are about 26 weeks along, as far as I can tell. Congratulations, you bisexual disaster.”
“I am NOT—”
“And I know who YOU,” he said, jabbing his cane at Cas, “are, so stop being so autistic.”
“Takes one to know one,” Cas said, folding his arms.
Wilson threw his hands in the air. “Who are these guys, House?”
“That one,” another cane jab, “Is an angel of the Lord. The same one that helped me develop the magnum opus of my career: BoyPreggers by Gregory House. And that,” he jabbed his cane at Dean, “is his repressed armcandy. And that,” he jabbed one last time at Cuddy, “is a meddling bitch who shouldn’t have gotten in the way of our—”
“In the way of you getting me ‘pregnant’,” Wilson said, using his fingers as quotations.
“I didn’t believe it initially either,” Dean said grimly. He then slowly turned to look at Cas. “So. You wanna explain anything else?” He said dangerously.
Cas gulped.
“This is ridiculous,” Wilson turned to Cuddy. He looked exhausted, which made House feel the smallest amount of guilt.
“I was going to tell you—”
“Oh not you too,” Wilson said, exasperated.
“Allow me,” Cas stepped forward and put a hand on Wilson’s shoulder, and the other on his stomach. It began to glow, and suddenly there was a glorious outline of a little baby, about the size of a small cantaloupe.
“Holy shit,” Wilson gasped, almost falling backwards, leaning against Cas’ firm hand against his back.
“How is this possible?” Cuddy whispered. Cas released his grip on Wilson, and stepped back to Dean’s side.
“I developed it, and then used the angel’s powers to finish any loose ends. It was just a joke at first. But the way you were glowing…” He glanced at Wilson, and then jerked his head away to stare at the ground. “And I know you’ve wanted a family,” he said softly. House cleared his throat, and then said loudly, “and anyways, you’re the one who slept with me!”
Wilson sputtered as Cuddy looked between them in shock. “It was one time, House! And we were drunk!”
“You two had sex?!” Cuddy said.
“Wait wait wait,” Dean said, putting his hands up in a ‘T’. “Time out. You’re telling me that I didn’t even have the right to get laid to get pregnant?! That’s totally unfair, Cas!”
“You guys haven’t even slept together?! But you’re pregnant!”
“Yeah, well, don’t ask me, you evil scientist son-of-a-bitch. You gave my best friend slash partner slash traumalationship an untested drug!”
House waved his hand, “it works. That’s all that matters, right?”
“This drug should be illegal,” Cuddy cried. “Just one dosage can get someone pregnant. It’s completely unconsensual!”
“Actually,” House said in a ‘nerd’ voice. “It only works if you have sex, just like any other conception. These two are just special ‘cause one’s a supernatural being.”
“Cas! How am I pregnant without getting laid! That’s totally not cool!” Dean yelled.
“Dean,” Cas pleaded. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know that’s what you wanted–”
“I may be emotionally repressed but you can literally read minds, Cas! I’m bisexual! We’ve been stuck in a homoerotic friendship since day one! Of course I want to sleep with you!”
“HA!” House shouted in delight. “I knew you were bisexual! No man watches Dr. Sexy unless he likes to kiss boys!”
“You like to kiss boys,” Wilson muttered petulantly.
“And you’re boy-pregnant,” House retorted.
“Dean,” Castiel said. “I promise, I just used the power of love. We somehow had enough for each other that my angel powers implanted—so it was consensual, in a way…”
“Shut up. Shut up.”
“Dean,” Cas moved towards Dean’s scrunched-up thinking face, reaching for him but looking afraid to actually make contact.
“That’s it,” Dean growled. “I’m getting laid right now. And you’re coming with me!” He grabbed Castiel by the arm and yanked him to the next room. There was the sound of several things falling and the comical noise of a cat screeching before Cuddy turned back to House and Wilson, who were still yelling at each other.
“We could have adopted, asshole!”
“But that would take so much work,” House groaned.
“And this didn’t?!”
0-0-0-0-0
“I HATE YOU,” Wilson shouted at House on the other side of the curtain. Cas grimaced as Dean held his hand in a death grip.
Dr. Lisa Cuddy had been kind enough to let them use their facility for the deliveries of both the House-Wilson and Winchester babies. And they were in the same room, separated only by a curtain for privacy. Partly so that House could help Dean deliver if needed, and partly because Cas could use any heaven juice to save either of them from certain death.
Cause, ya know. Anatomy.
“It’s going to shoot straight out of my penis, isn’t it?” Dean said to no one in particular, gazing at the ceiling in terror.
“Shut up, idiot, you’re getting a c-section,” House growled from the other side of the curtain.
“Like I know what the hell that is,” Dean retorted.
Wilson let out an ear-piercing screech. Dean clamped his hands over his ears.
“I hate it here,” Cuddy said, pulling on some gloves, mask already over her face.
Wilson let out a string of very colorful insults towards House, who was moving with calculated precision around him.
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said, trying to keep the mood light.
Dean made eye-contact with Cas. “Why does weird shit always happen to me?” He asked.
Cas shrugged.
“Making initial incision,” House announced. Dean looked green.
After a while, and some rustling from behind the curtain, Cuddy yelled, “It’s a boy!” And Dean and Cas wept in relief. House kissed Wilson on the forehead as he brought the tiny baby to his chest.
“This is the craziest thing to ever happen to me,” Wilson said, bewildered but happy.
“My bad,” House said.
Cas smiled at them, having glanced over to check on them. He turned to Dean suddenly, the smile fading from his face.
“Your contractions are starting,” he said seriously.
“What? Wait—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
0-0-0-0-0
POSTPARTUM (WEEKS FOLLOWING DELIVERY)
“Let’s never do this again,” Dean said grimly, shaking Wilson’s hand. All babies were delivered safely, and Dean Winchester and James Wilson were completely healthy and well.
“For all that is holy, please let’s not,” Wilson agreed. He adjusted the baby in his arms, and subconsciously moved closer to House, who was talking quietly to Castiel.
“Love knows no bounds,” Cas said quietly to House. House scoffed, but he put his arm around Wilson. Cas shook both their hands, and walked toward the Impala.
0-0-0-0-0
They drove off, and Wilson turned towards House, gently holding the baby boy and letting him suck on his pinky finger.
“Have you thought of a name yet?” He asked.
House shook his head. “I figured I wouldn’t subject you to more trauma by naming him Megatron or Batman.”
“Robin could be cute…” Wilson mused. He yanked a strand of House’s greying hair and began walking inside.
“Can we get married?”
“Sure, why not? We practically are anyway,” Wilson responded, lightly slapping House on the ass as they walked through the doors.
0-0-0-0-0
“Heya Sammy!”
Sam finished his typing and grinned. “Nice to see you two. How’d it go?”
“Meet your new baby nieces,” Dean said proudly, holding up one (of three) babies, Cas holding the other two with a goofy grin on his face.
Sam looked up, and then his eyes rolled back and he fell on the floor in a moose-like heap, having fainted at the sight of the Winchesters-Five in the sunlit doorway.
The End