Request: “#42 with Dean + Pregnant!Reader” by @flamencodiva
Prompt: "Time for plan B." - "We didn't even have a plan A."
Pairing: Dean x Pregnant!Reader
Word count: 1.9K
Warnings: Dean and Sam are both in need of the infamous ‘breathe slowly and count to ten’-method, a tiny bit of angst if you squint
A/N: Thank you for your patience. Hope you enjoy the read! <3
Beta: @slytherkins
JJ’s Rockin’ 100 - PROMPTS || MASTERLIST || ASK BOX
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You woke up in one of the comfortable red armchairs in the bunker’s library. There was an open hardcover copy of ‘A Guide to Growing a Happy Sprout’ spread out over top your round stomach. You remembered sitting down earlier with the intention of reading a few pages. How much time had passed since then, you did not know. As your pregnancy progressed, you kept finding yourself taking accidental naps more and more.
You stretched but immediately winced at how uncomfortable it made you. Getting up to put the book away, you took a quick glance at the room and found it to be empty. You were pretty sure Sam and Dean were around somewhere, even though you thought it possible you had just slept for literal decades, judging by the heavy drowsiness still fogging your brain. In which case, both Winchesters would be long gone and the world outside the bunker had probably ended.
On the off-chance that wasn’t true, you decided to have a look around and see where the boys were. You shuffled forward on sock-covered feet, but you had barely made your way out of the library when a loud bang sounded from the hallway, followed by a string of curse words.
Your hands reached for your belly, covering it instinctively as if to shield your unborn child’s ears from the profanities that carried toward you down the hallway. You recognized the voice as Dean’s, all sleepiness gone in an instant at the possibility of him being in trouble.
When you reached the door of the room you shared with Dean, you paused. Sam’s voice mixed with Dean’s but you realized they were coming from next door.
The room next to your bedroom had been empty before you and your husband decided to turn it into a nursery. Nothing much had happened inside so far. All you did was clear out the old Men of Letters’ furniture and paint the walls a soft blue color you picked out after hours of deliberation. Stretched out wide over one of the walls was a colorful rainbow, which you had painted as well, back when you were still able to see your own feet.
You walked over to the closed door and made a mental note to replace the numbers on it with a cute little sign once you and Dean had decided on a name for the baby. Your hand rested on the door handle and you were about to enter, when Dean’s voice sounded again.
“Time for plan B.” His voice was more gruff than usual, indicating he was not in a good mood.
“We didn’t even have a plan A.” Sam’s response came quick. He sounded as annoyed with his older brother as ever.
“Shut up, Sammy. You agreed to help me with this.”
“And I will, once you learn how to read.”
“Alright, that’s it. You listen to me…” Dean started, his volume increasing. You decided this would be as good a moment as any to step in and see what was going on.
The moment the door opened, Sam and Dean went quiet and looked up at you. Both men were sitting on the floor opposite each other. Their long legs were spread out in front of them and they were surrounded by pieces of wood, nails, and assorted tools. You even saw a dangerously sharp looking saw propped up against the wall. Next to them stood a contraption that looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t until you saw the empty box in the corner of the room and the images it had printed on the side, that you realized what the franken-creation next to Sam and Dean was supposed to be.
“I…” You tried to think of something nice to say. Maybe it would diffuse the tense atmosphere in the room. But you couldn’t think of anything and you didn’t want to lie, so you concluded with, “…have no words.”
Dean reached out to smack Sam’s shoulder. “I told you!” he hissed. “We did it wrong.”
Sam rolled his eyes so hard you half expected them to pop out and land at your feet. “Of course, we did it wrong, Dean. My unborn niece or nephew can probably see we did it wrong. Does that look like a crib to you?” He pointed an accusing finger at their unfortunate end result.
You had ordered a cradle online a few days ago. It was a perfect match with the rest you had planned for the nursery. However, at the moment it didn’t exactly look like a baby would be able to sleep in it.
Sam looked up at you now. He saw the troubled look in your eyes and quickly got up to put a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he said softly. “We’ll fix it.” Then his voice changed again. “It’s just been a challenge so far because someone doesn’t know how to properly read an instruction manual.” His gaze found his brother’s and the two men stared each other down for an unnerving moment.
“Oh, yeah?” Dean’s voice finally boomed. “Yeah, well… Neither can you!”
It’s a good thing you didn’t marry the man for his comebacks.
You put up both your hands, palms forward as if to surrender yourself. “Okay, if we could all just take a breather here,” you suggested with a hopeful tone in your voice.
Dean didn’t move, but Sam complied. His chest heaved as he breathed in through his nose. Then he turned his attention back to you. “All I’m saying is, when I offered to help with this, I thought Dean would at least have a plan of attack, but he didn’t. Instead he literally attacked and went at it like a freaking animal.” Sam shook his head. “Now we’re gonna have to start this whole thing over from scratch.”
Dean tried to look angry at first. He clearly didn’t like being called out like this, and struggling with the different parts of the crib for as long as they had, Dean had clearly become grumpy. Then it seemed Sam’s last words finally started to dawn on him and his expression changed to one of pure terror.
“No way,” he said almost breathlessly. "I am not starting over. Nuh-uh, not happening.”
You took a step forward and put your hand against Dean’s cheek. It had the intended effect; he visibly relaxed and his eyes softened as he looked up at you. Your thumb gently stroked his stubbled skin.
“Why don’t you guys take a break,” you suggested, fearing your husband’s sanity if he didn’t step away from this for a moment. “I, for one, am starving. You’re not gonna let me eat dinner all by myself, are you?”
To your surprise, Dean’s perfect lips pulled into a smile. Behind you, Sam opened the door a little further and stepped into the hallway.
“I’ll head out to get some grub,” he offered. “A new place opened downtown, they’re supposed to have the best burgers.”
Your mouth started to water at the mere thought of the junk food Sam was about to get for you. Of course he knew what to suggest to make you happy. You had practically been breathing cheeseburgers. At first your cravings had been all over the place, but these past few weeks it had gotten stuck on anything fat and greasy. The other day, you had finished your burger before Dean had even started his, a miraculous turn of events, if you said so yourself.
Sam walked ahead, already on his way to the garage. It left you alone with Dean and when the older Winchester went to pass you, your hand reached out to grab his. He stopped and turned to look at you.
Your eyes gazed back up into his. There was an appreciative smile hanging around your lips, yet your eyebrows were pulled together slightly.
Dean reached up and let his rough thumb smooth out the soft skin on your forehead. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping a little closer. You noticed he glanced down quickly toward your baby bump and worry flashed over his face for just a second. You shook your head as if to assure him it didn’t have anything to do with the baby. Not directly, anyway.
“I worry about you,” you confessed to him. You reached out to take his other hand as well so you were holding both of them.
Dean seemed genuinely surprised by that. “Me?” he asked. “Why would you be worried about me? Sweetheart, I’m good. You’re the one doing all the work here.” He got that expectant look on his face, the one he always got when he was waiting for his words to make you smile or chuckle.
You couldn’t, though. Not yet. Instead, the frown reappeared on your face.
“Hey,” he said, his voice now so soft you wanted to feel it against your skin. “What’s going on? You can tell me.”
“I know,” you nodded. “It’s just… Are you sure your little outburst just now had nothing to do with you being stressed? You know, about what’s to come?” Now it was your turn to glance down at your belly.
Dean let go of one of your hands to gently press two fingers underneath your chin and make you look back up at him again. “Trust me when I say, I have never felt more certain about anything in my life than I feel about us and our future right now.”
You closed your eyes, as if to savor this moment forever. Finally, you smiled.
Dean leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll fix that crib as soon as possible,” he promised. “Even if it’s gonna take a bunch of hocus pocus to get it done.”
“Let’s eat first,” you reminded him while you started tugging him toward the doorway. But apparently Dean had yet to finish making his point known.
His face dead serious all of a sudden, “If anything is to blame, it’s this furniture from hell.”
“You mean Ikea?”
“That’s what I said; hell.” Dean shook his head. “The damn instructions don’t even have words in them, Y/N!” He sounded outraged, as if a great injustice had been laid upon him. “You can give me a completely dismantled car and I’ll put it back together just like that, no problem. But this… No, this is pure evil. I’m telling you.”
You laughed, amused by how deeply rooted Dean’s hate for instruction manuals apparently was. “All right, I get it,” you soothed him. “Now can we please go sit down? My feet are killing me.”
That seemed to snap Dean out of his tirade. He hadn’t realized how long you had been standing up straight already. Though to be fair, neither had you until that point, but you were glad Dean finally started walking with you toward the kitchen.
You promised to help out with building the cradle after dinner, and Dean accepted your offer under one condition.
“Nothing too physical,” he said. “Sammy and I can bring one of those chairs in from the library for you to sit in while you boss us around.”
A slap was heard as your hand came in contact with his arm.
“I mean ‘help’!” Dean quickly tried to save himself. “While you help us.”
His laughter did not do much for his credibility.