Because you can never have enough parent!destiel... happy thanksgiving to those who are celebrating!
“Mamamam… mmamamam…”
“Mmm… you like peas, huh? Must get that from your Papa. He likes green food, too.”
Though the table is filled with people laughing and smiling and talking, the only two Cas sees are Dean and Ellie. They’re beside him, at the head of the table. Dean’s plate is turning cold as he spoon feeds their daughter, the tips of her fine dark curls already dipped with carrot mush. She’s teething, and slams both her little firsts on her highchair tray before sticking her fist in her mouth. Green and orange mush is smeared around her lips and on her cheeks. She babbles constantly becomes more incensed with her baby speak when Dean leans forward to nuzzle her tiny button nose.
“You can’t have the good stuff yet, but as soon as you can, you’ll forget all about this veggie stuff,” Dean informs her. “Burgers and shakes, Ellie, that’s what’s up. Actually…”
Cas watches as his husband takes a finger of mash potatoes and offers it to the baby, grinning when she sucks off the food eagerly. She reaches out in an attempt for more and Dean gives her another. “Good huh? Look at you: you’ll be eating fries before you know it. Then Papa’ll nag us both.”
In response, Ellie bites down on Dean’s finger with her only two teeth. Cas can’t help but snort. Dean yelps. “Geez, little lady!” he says. “You tryin’ to bite off my fingers with those new chompers?”
Ellie gives a toothy smile.
“Hey Cas, pass me your glass.”
Castiel starts when Dean turns to him but hands over the rosé, smiling sheepishly at the other man’s affectionate murmur of: “creeper” before Dean leans in for a kiss. He then sticks his pinky in the wine and brings it to their daughter’s lips.
Cas rolls his eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve let their daughter taste rosé, and it certainly won’t be the last. They don’t let her have it all the time, but once in a blue moon, they’ll give her a finger of the liquid to suck on.
Ellie loves it.
She reaches for the glass of pink stuff as soon as she tastes and makes the connection, continuing her litany of: “mamamamamamamm” as she does. Dean huffs a laugh.
They stare at their daughter for a while: at her dark hair and green eyes. The way she smiles and laughs and sucks on her fist and her plastic spoon. She’s incredible. She grows every day and she’s incredible.
“What are you thankful for?” Cas asks quietly, leaning into his husband’s space as Dean reaches for his own plastic spoon and the little jar of pureed peas.
Dean’s answer is immediate:
“Both of you.”