Title: A Quiet House
Warnings: Um…a really crappily written sex scene?
Word Count: 5,406
Summary: The Angel frowns a little, hearing the groan of someone shifting in place above him, and he looks to the ceiling. Cocking his head to one side, he can just make out the sounds of heavy metal coming from the attic, and sighs again, running a hand through his damp hair. Dean. He only listens to music like that when he's upset about something.
Notes: Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.
Also (wow, this AN will probably be longer than the actual story xD) this was written for Benny! (earth_heart) *I LOVE YOU, YOU FUCKING EPIC PERSON* It's his birthday! I'm a little early for this BUT I'll be in Jerusalem over his birthday so I'm posting it early. *huggles him tight* I really hope you like this, lovey. I…tried to make it NC-17, and I did in so far that there's sex, but it's not very well written and turns out it was more cutesy than actually hawt, yaknow? Anyway, LOVE YOU!
This features a random domestic AU with demon!winged!Dean and Angel!winged!Cas. There's no reason – it's just how it is. Oh, and attic!sex. *slinks away to the corner*
"Dean? You home?"
Castiel closes the front door behind him, pulling off his trench coat and shaking out some of the rain water before hanging it up, and leaning his folded umbrella next to the boots. He sighs, closing his eyes, stretching out his wings behind him – the coat has yet to be altered to fit around them so he's been having to plaster his wings to his back whenever the weather is less than agreeable, and since it's hurricane season in Florida, that happens a lot recently.
The Angel frowns a little, hearing the groan of someone shifting in place above him, and he looks to the ceiling. Cocking his head to one side, he can just make out the sounds of heavy metal coming from the attic, and sighs again, running a hand through his damp hair. Dean. He only listens to music like that when he's upset about something.
"Dean?" he calls again, just in case his mate hears him and switches the music off, but that's not likely – the closer Castiel comes to the trapdoor that leads to the attic, the louder the music gets, and the attic's pretty damn soundproof. It must be deafening in there.
Dean doesn't like the hurricane weather. The humidity and dampness sticks his feathers together uncomfortably and he hates the constant pattering of rain – it keeps him up at night. But that's not why he's up in the attic. Castiel knows that.
The Angel smiles a little, pulling the trapdoor open and climbing up the ladder so just his head pokes through, looking around the dark space. Almost at once the music is switched off, Dean obviously acknowledging his presence, and Castiel looks around again, waiting for his eyes to adjust. "Where are you?" he asks, climbing through the rest of the way, his wings spread out behind him for balance as he perches on the edge of the trap door.
"'M over here, Cas," the demon replies softly to his mate, knowing the Angel will be able to hear him. Castiel finds him, then, curled up in one of the far corners of the attic. The Angel sighs gently, closing the trap door behind him because, now that he's used to it, there's enough light to see Dean's silhouette by and he knows Dean prefers the dark anyway. Still, it's a little hard to distinguish where Dean is and where it's just wall, because Dean's curled himself up in a cocoon of his ebony wings.
The overly warm space must be suffocating, but Dean gives no sign of being bothered by the lack of air, or how the Angel's body heat starts to make him sweat when Castiel comes to sit next to him.
"Don't," Dean says, putting out a hand before Castiel can lean against the wall. He smiles a little, sheepishly, and extends one of his wings so that Castiel's back is cushioned. "You'll get your pretty feathers all dirty."
"So would you," Castiel replies, leaning into his mate's comforting warmth and allowing Dean to pull him closer, so the demon's now curled up against his side, cheek on his shoulder, wings wrapped around them both.
"Yeah," Dean laughs," but mine are already black. Won't show."
Castiel smiles, petting through Dean's sweaty, dirty hair, and the demon hums. "How long have you been up here?" he asks.
The demon blinks. Castiel can feel his eyelashes move against the inside of his wrist. "Dunno," Dean says, shifting a little so he's more comfortable, closing his eyes and sighing. "Probably all day. Since you left to drop Sofia off."
"Dean, that was over seven hours ago," Castiel admonishes gently. There's a furrow in his brow, speaking of concern – Dean can feel his gaze on his face. Dean hates it when Castiel looks at him like that – like something very gravely wrong is going on and he's trying to work out how to fix it. "What's the matter?"
Dean shifts, opening his free wing out across Castiel to brush the feathers gently against his mate's, seeking comfort silently since he isn't willing to ask for it. Immediately Castiel's whiter feathers cover his black ones, meshing the thick, oily feathers together.
"The…" Dean swallows, biting his lower lip, feeling himself blush because honestly, this is kind of embarrassing. "The house is really empty," he confesses, eyes darting to anywhere but Castiel's face. "When she's gone, and you're gone with her, it's just so…quiet. I'm not used to having a quiet house. I don't like it. It's unnerving."
And it's true – Dean comes from a large family, with brothers and cousins as far as the eye can see. Castiel, too, comes from a large nest. "I wasn't used to having anything to do," the demon continues, his wings rustling in distress. "I cleaned the house. Twice. And that was before either of you even got up – then it started to rain and I just had to come up here and drown it out." He sucks in a breath, and it shakes a little around the edges. "I feel like she's a thousand miles away. Like you both were. I hated being alone."
Castiel makes a soft, reassuring sound in the back of his throat – one that Dean used to make fun of him for when they were courting – and brushes a hand over the side of his mate's face, tilting Dean's up so that they can see each other in the dim light. Castiel can barely make out his features, and brushes Dean's lower lip with his thumb to define it. "Beloved," he says, unable to keep himself smiling, "she only went to elementary school. She'll be back later in the day. In only an hour at most, in fact."
"I know," Dean replies softly, and Castiel can almost tell by the tilt of his lips that he's pouting. Without thinking, the Angel smiles and places a light kiss on his lips before Dean huffs and goes back to using Castiel's shoulder as a pillow. "I know it's stupid, but…I've never been away from her for this long. And it's so quiet without her trying to kill herself by climbing and jumping and running everywhere and playing with the stove and rolling down the stairs…and running me ragged all day. I just…Damn it, Cas, I think you broke me." The demon barks out a short, but happy, laugh. "I was never a housewife before you came along."
Castiel hums gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his mate's head. He sits forward slightly, holding Dean to him, so that he can extend his wings outward and better mesh them with the demon's, offering him support and comfort through their warm caress.
"And then I think about what might happen at the actual school," Dean continues, sighing again. "I wonder if she'll be making any friends or if the kids will make fun of her for…for us." Dean's feathers bristle at the idea and Castiel soothes them back down. "But I don't know, because I'm not there, and it's infuriating." He suddenly rises, then, sitting up and looking Castiel in the eye, their interlocked wings dragging apart. "I feel like I'll go stir crazy and the first day's not even over!"
"What will you be like when she goes off to college?" Castiel asks, unable to stop himself teasing, just a little, and Dean glares at him and gives him the finger. "I'm sorry, baby, I know," the Angel murmurs, sitting forward and taking Dean's hand, soothing the fist away and holding it in both his own. "What would you like me to do? How can I fix this?" he asks gently, wanting nothing more than to make his mate happy again – when Dean is happy, it's like the whole world is a brilliant firework. It's amazing.
"I…" Dean looks down, and Castiel can tell he wants to fidget from the aborted movement one of his hands makes towards the other, that Castiel's holding, but the demon holds himself back. Instead, his wings curl forward and drape around his shoulders, hunching them, making him look smaller. He bites his lower lip; free arm curling around his shins as he brings his knees up to his chest, and even in the darkness, Castiel can see his blush.
"What is it?" the Angel asks, honestly intrigued as to what would make his normally outgoing, fun-loving extrovert of a mate so reticent and shy and…almost coy.
"I…I think I…" Dean whispers, and then stops himself, shaking his head. His wings flare out and fan the air, kicking up dust, trying to appear calm. "Never mind. It's a stupid idea."
"Do you want another baby, Dean?" Castiel asks, because the only time he's seen Dean like this before was when the demon had come to tell him he was pregnant in the first place – like he isn't really sure he's allowed to say it. Like he's afraid of Castiel's reaction.
The demon immediately tenses up, letting Castiel know he's right. The Angel sighs gently, pulling Dean towards him with enough force that Dean doesn't even think about resisting – until he's straddling his mate's outstretched legs, Castiel holding their hands together between them. The Angel's eyes are brilliant and blue – Dean has better night vision than Castiel so he can see better, and he's been up here practically all day so his eyes are used to it – and he's smiling like he had when Dean had said 'I love you' for the first time.
"Dean, if you want another baby, I would be more than happy to have one with you," Castiel murmurs, pressing a hand against Dean's heart to emphasize the words, his smile growing a little and getting just slightly lopsided.
Dean gasps a little, like he wasn't expecting that answer. "You mean it?" he asks, his wings fluttering gently behind him and then curving forward tentatively, seeking the connection with his mate, and he almost deflates when Castiel presses their wings together again. The damp heat of being so close to Castiel is like being in a sauna, but Dean doesn't mind – he likes the smell of Castiel's sweat, anyway. He smells like ozone and salt water.
The Angel nods, his body relaxing when he sees the smile on Dean's face. "I know that Sofia was a very difficult pregnancy for you, and that the doctor said that you should probably wait a couple of years' more, but Dean, if you feel ready, then it's your decision. It's our decision. I want a large family, just like we have come from, if you do."
"Cas, I…" Dean stops, hesitating, and then takes his mate's face in his hands and rests his forehead against Castiel's, eyes half-lidded. Castiel can feel his breathing against his skin, more heat and warmth and the fire of his homeland. "…I really, really want another baby. I want to take care of something again." The demon's hands brush over the side of Castiel's face, smoothing his sweat-damp hair away and baring more of the pale skin that stands out against the dark black-and-brown of the attic ceiling and the ugly orange insulation. Dean leans in a little, just barely pressing his lips against his mate's so that, when he speaks, they're almost kissing; "But I'm not in the middle of a mating cycle right now." His voice is soft and anxious. "Won't be for another coupl'a months."
The Angel chuckles, slouching a little against the attic ceiling and Dean makes a soft sound when he sees how Castiel's feathers are dragging through the dust and dirt. "You and I both know that you don't need to be in the middle of one to conceive," he says, nuzzling closer to his mate, pressing his nose into the dip between Dean's nose and his cheek, and catching some of Dean's skin between his lips. The demon shivers, turning his head to one side so his throat is bared for his mate.
"I know," Dean replies, letting out a low whining sound when Castiel's arms encircle his waist, the Angel's delicate, long fingers digging into the clumps of dirt that have gathered in the base of his wings. Involuntarily, Dean lurches forward, driving his hips towards Castiel's and they both moan at the dual friction. "Helps, though."
"Hmm," Castiel replies, already distracted because, despite not being in the middle of a cycle, the demon is still producing pheromones at a rate to imitate it. Already the air is heavier with the scents of sex and heat, adding to the dank, hard-to-breathe air. The Angel closes his eyes, growling out softly as one hand fists in Dean's hair, guiding his head to one side so that Castiel can bury his nose in Dean's neck, inhaling his scent and listening to the sound of his racing pulse. Dean figured out a long time ago that Castiel had a real thing for his scent – for the longest time Dean would go for long runs through the neighborhood, or push himself to the limit while flying, and then come back home, sweaty and glowing, and into his mate's arms.
Dean's hands push greedily at Castiel's clothing, shoving the tie to one side and unbuttoning the shirt underneath, almost ripping it open in his impatience, and Castiel chuckles at the disappointed sound Dean lets out when he opens the shirt only to find a wife beater underneath. The demon shoots him a dirty look and Castiel just shrugs, and then Dean's not on his lap anymore – which is a place he really should be if he wants to get anywhere any time soon.
The demon smiles, flaring out his wings a little as he sits back, and Castiel growls at him playfully, trying to make a grab for him and just missing him by a hair. "Get back here," the Angel demands, grinning when Dean sits very pointedly on the floor past Castiel's feet, cocking his head to one side and surveying his mate with a superior expression.
"Gotta get you naked first, Angel," he purrs in reply, his voice getting a little lower in response to his pheromones, and Castiel shivers, closing his eyes when he feels Dean's nimble, capable fingers tugging at the laces of his shoes, undoing them and pulling them off quickly and efficiently, along with his socks. "We're gonna get so dirty up here," he remarks with a small chuckle.
Castiel laughs and launches himself at his mate, and they collide and go rolling. Dean lets out a little huff of surprise, more out of Castiel actually landing on top of him than the attack itself – Dean is physically stronger than Castiel, and it's not often that the Angel can hold him down when they wrestle (or do other things that look a lot like wrestling. The powers of denial in a three-year-old girl have never failed to amaze Dean).
The Angel rumbles low in his chest, plastering himself over his mate's back, and Dean sighs, relaxing and willingly submitting to his mate, his wings flattening to the ground in response to his base desire to get low to the ground and let Castiel mount him, like an animal. Heat curls deep in the demon's belly, and it almost feels like he's in heat – because how else can the simple action of Castiel scraping his work-stubble across the back of Dean's neck feel so damn good? Dean moans, biting on his lower lip to stop a whimper escaping, and bucks his hips back, able to feel Castiel's erection on the inside of his thigh.
"Cas, please," Dean gasps out, doing it again when the Angel's wings flatten over his own, pressing him down with their heavy weight, moist with oil and outside air and sweat. "Oh fuck, yes, please…"
"So pretty when you need it so bad, Dean," the Angel replies softly, letting most of his weight rest on Dean's back, forcing the demon to hold him up while his hands move under their wings, flattening against Dean's sides and then moving…upwards…underneath…
"Fucking hell, Cas," Dean snarls, baring his teeth and shivering violently when the Angel's fingers press against the demon's oil glands, coaxing some of the thick, viscous fluid out from them. Castiel presses insistently at the sensitive area around them, flattening his hands to the underside of Dean's wings and then squeezing the glands so that more oil spurts out. Dean whines, feeling like he's about to collapse – his entire body is trembling and his nails are digging shallow furrows into the floor.
It's still quite dark to Castiel – he can barely see a thing. He has to go by feel. He drags his oil-slick hands through Dean's feathers the wrong way, making his mate mewl and shake his head. Sweat is dripping off of Dean and Castiel can smell it, and fuck, it smells divine – having his mate like this, so needy and desperate for him…yeah, the Angel might have a bit of a kink for it.
He runs one slick hand down Dean's arm, finding the demon's hand and tugging at it. "Let up, baby," he murmurs, driving his hips forward a little because he can't fucking help himself, and Dean gasps, shaking his head again – he's panting like he's just sprinted a marathon, and his wings twitch valiantly in an attempt to move. "Come on, Dean."
"I'll collapse face-first onto this floor if I move, Cas," Dean snaps, but he's almost laughing, Castiel can tell. The Angel chuckles and rests his cheek between Dean's shoulder blades, exhaling softly against his mate's wing and Dean shivers again, hanging his head. Slowly – Castiel waits with the utmost patience because he knows that Dean just needs a little bit of coaxing when they're like this – the demon shifts, moving his knees forward and sitting back a little so that most of his and Castiel's weight is on his legs, and he can obey Castiel's order and raise his hand. The Angel smiles and guides it to Dean's jeans.
"Undo them, Dean," he rasps out, voice low and rough and Dean mewls, sinking back down a little and curling in on himself, the pang of desire is so sharp; it feels like a knife to his gut when Castiel speaks in that rough growl of his. The Angel is purring – Dean can feel the rumbling against the small of his back – and he smiles a little, happy to have pleased his mate, and tries to concentrate on getting his jeans undone. It's difficult with only one hand, that hand being quickly slicked with his own oil as Castiel coats it, but he manages, and quickly flings his arm back out to maintain his balance because he feels like he's going to collapse at any second. "Such a good boy. Always so obedient, and perfect, and just…fuck."
The demon's wings flatten once again to the floor when Castiel's slick, overly warm hand wraps around his cock, having pulled it out from his jeans and underwear, jacking Dean slowly with his own oil and that thought just sends all kinds of little lightning-shards of pleasure through the demon. The other hand pushes at Dean's t-shirt, up until his wings stop the garment, and then Castiel hooks his fingers into Dean's jeans and underwear and pulls them down far enough that his ass is exposed. The demon stretches his arms out in front of him, back bowing like a lax cat, wings flattened almost completely to the floor as he submits, a slave to Castiel's will, just wanting to be mounted, and fucked, and owned again. Wanting to be claimed and to bear the proof of that claim inside of him for nine months.
Castiel leans down, still jacking his mate's cock slowly, with a deliberately loose fist so that Dean can't find release from that alone, and mouths at the dip in the small of his back. Dean jerks a little in response to it – the heat and wetness are unexpected and take him by surprise. Castiel tilts his head to one side, watching the back of Dean's head like that could give him all the answers, and bares his teeth against Dean's flushed, sweaty skin, inhaling the scent of his pheromones, where they burn strongest between his legs, and Castiel brings his other hand up, smoothing it out over one of Dean's cheeks. Castiel bites down sharply at Dean's spine, causing the demon to shout and shiver, Dean folding one of his arms so he can rest his forehead inside of his elbow and not get dust and dirt on his face.
The air in the attic is stifling – Castiel wonders how they haven't burst into flames yet. They are silent except for the ragged sound of gasping breaths, air too moist being drawn in through flared nostrils and parted, wetted lips that can't close because even swallowing means they're denied air for too long. Castiel moves his mouth down, licking at Dean's entrance and smirking when he finds his mate already wet for him – demons are capable of producing natural lubricants, like women, when in heat or turned on enough. It speaks volumes that Dean's so wet already, even out of cycle.
The Angel licks at the slick coating Dean's hole and the demon moans loudly, brokenly, like a wounded animal, his knees spreading out as far as he can get them when his jeans are barely past his thighs. "Cas, please, oh fuck me, please…" he whines, dragging his nails along the floorboards and creating an unearthly creaking sound, the wood ripped away by his fingers. "Please, need you inside me now."
And really, who is Castiel to deny when his mate asks so prettily? So nicely? The Angel leans up, and Dean moans brokenly again when his hands leave his fevered skin, but he stays obediently still because Castiel hasn't told him to move yet.
"Turn over, Dean," Castiel whispers, almost too softly to be heard, but Dean hears him. Immediately the demon is on his back, wings flared out as far as they can go in the tight space, and Castiel smiles, pulling at Dean's pants until one leg is free and then slotting between his mate's thighs, pressing up against him as much as he can. One hand braces itself by Dean's head, the other works at his own pants to free his erection. Dean lets out a low, desperate sound, his eyes gone black, teeth bared as he hisses his breath though a clenched jaw, and he grabs at Castiel frantically, scrabbling for anything to grab onto, anything to anchor him when he feels inches away from flying apart. "Dean? Dean! You with me here, baby?" Castiel demands, taking his mate's face and forcing the demon to meet his eyes. He doesn't speak again until Dean's eyes lock with his and he gets the feeling that the demon is actually listening. "You with me here?" he repeats.
Dean nods, wetting his full bottom lip, and Castiel's eyes lock onto the action. It seems strange – usually Dean's lips would be so full and bitten-red by now…they kind of look strange when they're not. Castiel leans down, claiming his lover's mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that Dean eagerly answers, the demon's hands fisting in the Angel's unruly, thick black hair, his wings arching up as Castiel's drive down, his hips rising as Castiel's hands go under Dean's body and lift him, finding the angle he needs to thrust forward and sink into his mate's perfectly tight, hot body.
Dean lets out a sigh like a dying man that has been given water, sucking at Castiel's bottom lip and biting down on it before licking over the sore spot, grinning into their kiss like this is the happiest day of his life. Castiel shifts a little again, overwhelmed by feeling his mate's warm, slick body around him without the barrier of latex to keep them apart. It's almost too much – Castiel runs the risk of ending this before it even gets fun, and he chuckles at his own thoughts. Dean frowns at him in confusion but Castiel just shakes his head, threading his fingers into Dean's hair, and claims his lover's mouth again. Fuck, but he could spend forever kissing Dean – the demon is the perfect balance of teasing and fulfilling. He's sin and satisfaction, temptation and redemption.
"I love you," Castiel murmurs into Dean's swollen lips, and the demon purrs very softly underneath him. Castiel just smiles, pulling back and thrusting forward again. Dean moans softly, eyes fluttering closed, his body arching to rub along Castiel's in the most delicious way, his arms and legs wrapping around him and keeping the Angel as close as it's physically possible to get before they just become one person.
When Castiel lets his wings fall across Dean's, ruffling some of the feathers the wrong way, it seems to overwhelm the demon. Dean trembles, his body clamping down impossibly tightly around Castiel as he buries his face in his Angel's neck and comes, gasping out Castiel's name like a prayer. Castiel holds the younger creature, soothing him through the aftershocks, gently rocking into Dean's body well after the demon becomes loose and pliant.
Dean purrs a little again, sucking a mark onto Castiel's pulse. "Come on, Cas," he rasps with a small smile. "Come on."
It's all the encouragement Castiel needs – within a half dozen thrusts he's coming into his mate's tight channel, Dean's body welcoming him in and milking him for all of his release. Castiel shivers a little, his feathers bristling with his orgasm, and kisses Dean once more as he comes – it's lazy and sloppy and a little uncoordinated, but Dean likes those best anyway. The demon's smiling against his lips, petting through Castiel's hair, his chest providing a very convenient pillow when the Angel finds himself unable to support his weight any longer.
They lay like that for God knows how long, but eventually Dean stirs, rolling over onto his stomach and forces Castiel to pull out and lay with him. The Angel plasters himself to his mate's back, still using Dean's body as a pillow, much to the demon's amusement.
"What time did you get home?" he asks, turning his face to one side and pillowing his cheek on his hands.
Castiel stirs sleepily. "Um…about three. Why?"
Dean hums gently. "Sofia will be out of school soon, then," he whispers, looking towards the trap door. "We should probably think about, you know, making ourselves decent enough to pick her up." There's amusement and a little bit of tension in his mate's voice – Dean misses his daughter, very much, and would probably sit outside the school all day, watching her learn and play, if Castiel let him. The Angel 'humph's gently, and pushes himself to his feet, pulling Dean up after him. The demon raises an eyebrow. "So you didn't take off any clothes, didja?"
Castiel shrugs. "You seemed pretty impatient. I don't think you would have waited for me."
Dean snorts. "You're such an ass," he replies, stretching his wings out to his sides, his arms above his head. "But…" He hesitates and Castiel watches him curiously, before he feels the soft brush of Dean's feathers against his own, and his lips against Castiel's. "Thanks, Cas. For getting it."
Castiel smiles, because that's probably as close to a 'moment' as Dean will be willing to go for today. He wraps his wings around his mate briefly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then cheek. "Love you," he says lightly, smiling just because he can, and Dean laughs.
"Love you, too," he replies softly, pressing a hand to his stomach. "Now let's go pick up our daughter. It only seems fair she gets a chance to wear me out too."
"Not in the same way, I hope," Castiel remarks, heading towards the trap door. The rush of sunlight into the attic is shocking and hurts his eyes a little – Dean turns his face away so he can let them adjust first; smart cookie. The influx of cool, fresh air, though, is very welcome, and Castiel takes a deep breath of it.
Dean chuckles. "Perv," he says, shoving playfully at Castiel so the Angel falls more than climbs down to the main floor. Dean follows, graceful as anything, and they shut the door behind them. Castiel raises an eyebrow at their states – dirty, covered in dust and streaks of oil and semen; they look like they had a really good night followed by a really bad week. Dean just chuckles, not giving a care for his nakedness, and shakes his wings out.
"I…I hope it worked," he says after another moment, biting his lower lip and pressing a hand to his stomach again. Castiel smiles, invading his mate's personal bubble, and rests their foreheads together. "I mean…I know it's impossible to tell so early, and even if it didn't we can always just keep trying but…"
"Shh, beloved," Castiel says, pressing a finger to Dean's lips. "You are a complete mate – I know we will be blessed with many children, just you wait. 'I lie back and sing, and children flow like water'." He presses a kiss to his mate's forehead. "Now come on – if we don't hurry and shower then Sofia will have to get a ride home with one of our brothers."
Dean smirks, letting Castiel lead him towards their bedroom. "Poor thing. We must save her from the torture!" He laughs when Castiel rolls his eyes and sprays the demon with some warm water from the shower nozzle. By the time comes around to pick Sofia up, their bedroom and bathroom is utterly soaked, but they look presentable enough and that's the important thing.
"Hey, sweetheart," Dean whispers, kneeling down in time for the bouncy little girl to run up and launch herself into his arms, her beautiful grey wings fluttering behind her. Sofia laughs, wrapping her tiny arms around Dean's neck and squeezing tight while Dean hugs her. "How was your first day at school?"
The girl grins toothily. "Fun. I made loads of friends. And they all think my wings are super-cool. No one else has wings like mine." Dean smiles, relieved that the other children weren't mean to her because of her mixed race. Ah, the oblivious joy of elementary school.
"That's good. Alright, baby, come on and let's get you home," Dean says, straightening, and the girl hesitates a moment, looking towards her carrier for a long while, then to her sire, and back again.
"Daddy, what's wrong with your skin?" she asks slowly, poking at Dean's hand like he'll suddenly shatter.
The demon frowns, looking to Castiel, who shrugs. "What do you mean?"
"You're all…glowy," Sofia says, still frowning a little and tapping her chin with a finger. "You look like Jake's mommy."
"Who is Jake's mommy?" Castiel asks, curious, and Sofia points to a little boy with plain white wings, running up and greeting his father and his very obviously pregnant mother. The boy turns in time to see Sofia pointing and waves, and his parents join in tentatively. Dean and Castiel wave back.
"Are you gonna get huge like that too?" Sofia asks, suddenly worried. "Is it a disease? Are you gonna get sick and die?"
Dean can't help it – he chuckles. "No, baby," he says, shaking his head. "In fact, I think last time this happened, you happened." He flicks her nose playfully and she snorts, then grins, squealing in glee and clapping her hands together.
Castiel smiles at the picture of his mate and his daughter – who look exactly the same, might he add, except she got his hair color – and walks over, draping a wing over them both. "I guess we know now," he says to Dean, who nods, smiling, and wipes his face with the back of his hand.
"Yeah," he whispers, "I guess so."
"You're crying," Castiel notes, a little surprised.
"I'm happy," Dean replies, suddenly straightening and picking Sofia up, cradling her in his arms. "Let's go home," he says, smiling over at Castiel. "I feel like Daddy should cook us a huge meal now," he whispers conspiratorially to Sofia, who giggles. "After all," he looks to Castiel, "I'm eating for two now."
"Yes," Castiel replies with a smile, giving Dean a brief kiss on the cheek. "Yes you are."