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AN: Ready for some more Smoke Eater-verse? (AKA: firefighter Dean!) Here’s a little window into their little life after the first sequel story, Something Real. This also fulfills a square for my Round 2 masterlist for @jacklesversebingo.
JVB Prompt: Reminiscing
Tags/Warnings: Established relationship (finally married!), parental anxiety, and tooth-rotting fluff, let’s be honest.
Exhaustion poured from every cell of your body. Four corners of white walls surrounded you while you laid in a hospital bed in recovery. You were sore and aching, sweat still clung to your skin and in your frizzy hair, and yet, you smiled softly.
You turned your head to watch your husband pace, one slow, gentle bouncing step after another with the bundle in his arms.
“Are you gonna keep hogging her?” you teased.
Dean looked over at you, smiling. “You got to carry her for ten months. Now it’s my turn.”
He lowered his gaze down to her, that perfect face finally sleeping peacefully. She was so small, so delicate. Just hours old. Ordinarily his sense of manhood wouldn’t allow him to talk like this, let alone think like this, but this baby girl had just carved out the widest hole in his heart and burrowed right in. It was a deep, fierce, protective love, greater than he could’ve ever imagined.
It fucking scared him to death.
Just holding her in his arms felt like holding an anvil of responsibility. And she was only seven and a half pounds.
Dean’s throat constricted again. He had to blink back the salty sting glossing in his eyes.
Your gaze softened knowingly. “Hey.”
His attention caught on you, on your hand raising from the bed to reach out for him. Dean went over and carefully sat on the edge of the thin mattress. He couldn’t wait to get you home in a real bed, so you could be more comfortable after nearly eighteen hours of labor.
He switched the baby over to his left arm, tucking her in the crook of it, the way Sam told him to. That way Dean could sweep a hand over your hair, caress your cheek. Your eyes closed at his touch.
“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” you breathed. So tired. So very tired.
“Yeah, that sounds like Winchester fine,” Dean said with a smirk. He rested an elbow against your pillow so he could lay a kiss above your brow.
You giggled softly. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s okay.”
You gazed up at him, then down at your daughter. Your eyes filled with tears almost on reflex while you stroked her soft cheek.
“It’s almost too much, you know?” you said, your voice sticky with emotion. “Like…I love you. I’d take a bullet for you and everything. But when I tell you, I would kill for her?”
Dean’s burst of laughter threatened to shake both of you on the bed. He tried to keep it quiet for the baby’s sake.
“I’m talking itty bitty infinitesimal pieces that they’d have to find in Forensic Files, like 50 years later,” you sniffled. All the while, your fingers stroked your baby’s cheek and forehead, her little hands and sock-covered feet.
“I know the feeling,” Dean agreed. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and you shifted to lay more against him than on the pillow. You both breathed together in that quiet, perfect space, where everything was good and right.
A knock on the door disturbed that peace.
You narrowed your eyes dangerously at the door. Dean noticed and hid a smile. You’d been a scary kind of pregnant lady.
“Yeah?” he called out at a moderate volume. It could be Sam and Eileen coming back. They’d waited in the hospital all night, but after getting to meet the baby, they left with their one-year-old son to go home and get some rest.
Or maybe it was Andréa and Benny. They’d just gotten back from their honeymoon yesterday, but they promised they’d be here soon.
It could’ve also been Meg and Cas, or even Ellen and Jo. So many people were already invested in this kid’s life. They’d been giving you and Dean support ever since you found out you were pregnant. (Six weeks to the day after your honeymoon. No, Dean’s “baby fever” did not abate.)
Despite your overwhelming happiness, you knew from that very day that the countdown had begun. You were eventually going to have to take a break from your catering business.
Dean would need more flexibility at the firehouse, and he’d been building up his side business as a mechanic to increase the money flow. Plus, starting a new family meant that soon enough, you would probably outgrow your two-bedroom apartment, no matter how much you both loved it there.
There was so much to think about that it made your head do more spins and summersaults than an Olympic gold medal gymnast, but—
“It’s me,” came the gruff reply from the other side of the door.
Dean smiled, sharing a glance with you. Your expression softened, and you nodded at him in agreement. He got up with the baby still carefully cradled in his arms and went over to open the door. There stood John Winchester holding a modest bouquet of flowers from the hospital gift shop. Dean knew because he’d just made a trip down there himself. The ribbon wrapped around John’s pink roses matched Dean’s yellow tulips.
“Hey, come on in,” Dean whispered.
“Yeah? Is it okay?” John asked, giving you a wave in greeting.
You smiled at your father-in-law. “Hey, John.”
“Of course, grandpa,” Dean replied to him. “Come meet your second grandbaby.” He clasped the man’s shoulder and welcomed him into the room. John smiled wryly on his way over to kiss your cheek.
“Yeah, you and your brother just wanna keep giving me gray hairs,” he remarked.
But his eyes softened the moment they fell on his granddaughter. His first one. Dean’s smile warmed as he brought her closer to his father.
“Wanna hold her?” Dean asked.
John cleared his throat. At your smile and encouraging hand on his arm, he turned and positioned himself to take the baby. Dean deposited her into his arms, then went over to sit beside you on your other side. You leaned into him with a contended sigh. He pressed a kiss to your cheek.
Meanwhile, John held his granddaughter the same way he’d held Sam’s firstborn son; the way he held Sam himself as an infant; the way he held Dean, his firstborn son. Fatherly pride and a deep undercurrent of love welled up in his chest as he reminisced to himself, compelling him to clear his throat for a second time. His eyes shone glassy with that feeling.
“She’s beautiful. Just beautiful,” he said eventually, his voice deep and gruff. Though he glanced over at Dean with a certain smirk. “You know, they say when God gives a man a little girl, it’s payback for all the skirt chasin’ he did when he was young.”
Dean’s smile fell.
You snorted a laugh—so hard that your body shook with it.
Dean began to pout. You grabbed your husband’s chin playfully and shot him a sly look.
“Then he really does have a sense of humor,” you said.
AN: My heart melts for Grandpa John lol, especially in the Smoke Eater-verse. It was fun to come back to these two for a hot minute. I can't believe it's already been almost two years since I wrote the main series! 😵❤️🔥
Next week, I'll be dropping a sequel to Over the Bridge! Then we'll be dipping back into the Break Me Down-verse for yet another adventure in pregnancy! Honestly, I didn't realize I was writing all these "baby" stories and sequel stories lately, but maybe I've got some baby fever? 🤣🤣 Which is kind of crazy, since I'm currently single and haven't really thought about wanting kids up until now. Maybe it's just the thought of Dean and Ben with kids that's got my fanning myself. 😮💨 ahem
Anyway. lol. Enjoy!~ ❤️