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Dean stares down at the tiny human lying on the bed, willing it to do something – anything – to assure him that all is good, that's he's not screwing this up already. But all it does is stare back it him with big brown eyes (he thought all babies had blue eyes, but obviously not) and makes this weird-ass gurgling noise, like a demented giggle.
"Hey," He says, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice; he clears his throat and gestures to the diaper thingy wrapped around its legs, "You, uh… You need changin', or…?"
The baby responds with a high-pitched whine and reaches out his hands, chubby fingers grabbing desperately at the air. Dean takes a step back, only slightly concerned.
"Oh, geez… I – Hey, don't do that, lil' man. C'mon, it's alright," He goes to scoop it up, but the wailing only intensifies, until Dean can hardly hear his own thoughts.
With one hand holding the baby still against the bed, he reaches for the bottle Sam left behind, nudging the nipple, if ya like, against its trembling mouth. In a moment of confused panic, the baby smacks the bottle out of his hands and carries on wailing – no, screaming.
"No, no, no," Dean runs a hand through his hair, looking frantically around the room for some magical tool designed to cure crying babies.
He glances at the clock; it's only nine-thirty, less than two hours since Sam and Eileen ditched his uneducated ass for a case in Minnesota. Why the hell they thought he was capable of looking after a new-born baby, he has no frickin' idea. As far as parenting goes, he's had approximately zero experience – unless you count Bobby-John. Sure, Ben was kinda like his own kid for a while, but at least he was practically grown up. Babies are clingy and gross and insanely dependent 24/7. How the fuck is he supposed to cope?!
Before he can get too freaked out, the familiar rustling of wings sounds behind him, and Cas pops up in the reflection of the mirror opposite the bed.
"Hello, Dean," The angel says, turning his attention to the baby, "Hello, Bobby."
"What the hell, man? You're late!"
Cas gives him the guilty eyes and steps around the bed, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against his mouth, "I'm sorry, Dean. I was visiting Claire."
"Oh," He curses himself internally; Cas only gets to see Claire now and again, and he knows how much the scarce visits mean to him, "I didn't know, Cas. M'sorry, babe."
He winces slightly at the pet name (because dating his best friend is still a major adjustment), but Cas simply shrugs his shoulders, smiling gently, and crouches down beside the bed. They both agreed when Sam and Eileen organised their hunt that they would do this shit together, like they do most things nowadays; he would never admit it out loud, but he's stupidly relived to have the sonofabitch here with him.
"You're struggling," Cas notes with a tilt of his head, "Why didn't you pray to me?"
Dean squirms on the spot uncomfortably. He didn't pray to Cas, because he didn't want him thinking he couldn't cope with something as simple as a frickin' baby. Not that babies are simple, because obviously they're not, but still. He hates playing the victim.
"Look, I wasn't struggling," He says defensively, "I just – I don't know how to do this stuff, man. I'm not some Mary Poppins reject, ya know?"
Cas sighs, "Did you try feeding him?"
"Course I did, Cas! It lunged the bottle across the room, for Christ's sake!"
"He's not an 'it', Dean. He's your nephew," Cas says in a tone that's almost condescending, but not quite, "Maybe he'd like a walk around the bunker."
Dean groans; the fact that Cas, of all people, knows what to do better than him just proves how goddamn awful he is with this stuff. He wonders if Cas has any experience with babies, but something about Cas and kids just doesn't click, so he thinks better than to ask. To be fair, he gets along with Claire pretty well (considering he's wearing her dead father's meat suit and all), but he still can't imagine Cas changing diapers.
"Here, I'll take him," He says when Cas reaches down to pick him up, "Just – I mean… If he pukes or something… you can have him."
Cas gives him one of those almost-smiles and slings the baby bag over his shoulder, "You lead the way then."
They probably look pretty stupid – Dean awkwardly patting the kid's back as they circle the bunker, Cas trailing behind with a squeaky bear (which he's 80% certain is a dog toy, not suitable for babies crying their eyes out). When they reach the kitchen, he hands Cas the baby and fixes up some sandwiches – grape jelly, not jam. Cas may have some angel mojo left over, but it's in short supply, and he's more human than Dean's ever seen him; now he's able to enjoy the small pleasures of eating and sleeping like the rest of them.
"Hey, maybe we should try heating up the bottle," He suggests around a mouthful of PB&J, "I read it somewhere; some babies prefer it warm."
Cas quirks an eyebrow, "You've been reading about babies?"
Heat rushes to his face immediately, but he brushes it off with a laugh, "What? No! I was just… I mean, I read a lot, alright? No harm in that, is there?"
"Of course not, Dean."
Much to his surprise (and relief), the warm milk goes down a treat; sooner or later, little Bobby's passed out in Cas' arms, sucking gently on the end of his thumb. Dean can't help but stare, completely entranced by the sight of Cas – his Cas – rocking a baby in his arms, smiling down at the small bundle of wrinkly flesh like nothing else in the world matters. His heart kinda swells with a mixture of pride and joy. For a moment, he almost lets himself believe that they could have this – a real family, with kids and everything. But it's a stupid thought – just a pipe dream - so he pushes it down with a weary sigh.
"C'mon," He says when Cas' eyelids start to droop, "Let's go lay him down."
They retreat back to the bedroom with careful footsteps, Dean's hand gently guiding Cas in the right direction in case he falls asleep along the way. It's a chore getting Cas (who's actually kinda heavy, ya know) to lie down on the bed with Bobby still in his arms; he doesn't wanna crush his nephew obviously, but something stops him from waking Cas up.
"There ya go," He whispers against the shell of Cas' ear, brushing away a stray lock of hair falling over his eyes.
He stands at the foot of the bed for a moment, watching Cas curl around Bobby in his sleep, arms draped loosely over his tiny body. Their breaths seem to fall into synchronization, each small puff of air from Cas' lips ruffling the dark tuft of hair on Bobby's head. He didn't think seeing Cas with a kid would affect him so much, but his heart is beating a little faster, and his head's spinning… Fuck. If only they weren't such a dysfunctional mess of a couple, maybe this stuff – babies and all that – would be more realistic. Why the hell does Cas have to make him question everything in his life all of the time, with his stupid blue eyes and adorable sex hair?! Goddammit.
"Man, I am so screwed," He says, chuckling weakly as he climbs into the bed and wraps his arms around Cas' waist.
Sam doesn't know what he's expecting to find – complete and utter chaos, maybe – but when he sees all three of them asleep on the bed, he can't help but grin. Dean is on the far left, with Cas' back pressed against his chest, and Bobby is sleeping softly in the angel's arms. They look like a proper family almost; it's kinda surreal.
"Oh my god," Eileen says as she pops up behind him.
He hastily presses a finger to his lips to shush her, but he's still smiling like an idiot.
Don’t wake them – he signs – Let them sleep.
She nods her head slowly, then bends down to kiss the top of Bobby's head. Sam knows how much she's missed him, how badly she wants to pick him up and hold him, but not even she is willing to separate the three of them just yet.
Come on – he smiles – Let's go make the most of the peace and quiet.
They slip their fingers together and disappear down the hall, leaving the sleeping trio alone for a few more hours.