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“You’re trying to make me fat on purpose.” Dean whined, when he entered the kitchen to the wonderful, unmistakable smell of freshly baked peach pie.
Benny had just deposited the oven gloves on the kitchen counter, and he turned to face Dean, who was pouting, bed-hair sticking up every which way. Benny chuckled at the sight, and reached out with one hand to gently smooth it down, before dropping a swift kiss onto Dean’s forehead. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing his hands down Dean’s bare, freckled arms, and settling one large palm against the swell of Dean’s cotton-covered tummy.
“You ain’t fat, sugar. You jus’ full of baby.”
“Don’t I know it.” Dean sighed, still grumpy. He shuffled away to plonk himself at the kitchen table.
Dean had been taking naps in the afternoon for the last few months, a side effect of a restricted caffeine diet. He was never in the sunniest of moods when he woke up in time for dinner. Benny swiftly cut him a slice of pie, spooning on a thick dollop of homemade whipped cream, before setting it down in front of the hunter, along with a fork. Mollified at the sight of it, Dean tucked in with hearty enthusiasm.
Despite his earlier grumbling, Dean fairly inhaled his pie, with the occasional happy, satisfied moan. Once it was all gone, he smacked his lips in satisfaction; eyeing up the remaining dessert on the opposite counter. But Benny was wise to his ways.
“Dinner first, then more pie.” He said, busy stirring his pot of southern-something-or-other. It smelled delicious, so Dean let it go with only a cursory harrumph of discontent.
Benny had been humming to himself, an old-time tune, and once he was done tweaking his dish, he held out a hand. With a put-upon sigh, Dean allowed himself to be swept into Benny’s warm embrace. They swayed in contented silence for a minute or two, to gentle rhythm only Benny could hear.
“Sam sent me a text. He’ll be back tomorrow; I think he wants to take me shopping for more baby things.” Dean eventually mumbled into Benny’s neck, his eye-contact avoidance tactic somewhat hindered by the big baby bump between them.
Benny hummed to show he was listening.
“I said it was okay.” Dean pressed, waiting for a verbal response.
“You’re allowed to spend time with your brother, sugar. You know that.”
Sam and Benny had managed to come to a truce, since Benny had gotten back from Purgatory the second time. Sam respected him for helping him get Bobby out of Hell; and the fact that the Campbell’s cure worked on resurrected vampires had only improved things.
But everything had soured again when newly human Benny had gotten Dean pregnant. Sam had been skeptical about their relationship and Dean’s choice in the matter. Now, his brother fluctuated between fretting over Dean like a mother hen, and throwing suspicious looks and thinly veiled threats in Benny’s direction. Dean was pretty sure his brother was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and after everything that had happened in their lives, he really couldn’t blame him.
Benny stroked his big hands down Dean’s back, bringing him back to the present with wordless reassurance.
“It’ll work itself out, mon cher. Sam just worries for you, is all.”
Dean didn’t dispute that; he just wished things would settle into place already. Sam was so much a part of him that it felt like a limb was missing when they were out of step with one another. But he knew Benny was right; once their son was born, Sam would be satisfied when he saw that Benny was going to stick around.
Dean sagged a little in Benny’s arms, tilting his head back, seeking further reassurance in a kiss. As always, Benny obliged him, and Dean sighed in quiet contentment when their lips met. He stroked his hands against Benny's scratchy stubble, whilst Benny splayed one wide hand across the base of his spine, and petted the side of Dean’s full stomach with the other.
Their baby was sleeping safely in Dean’s abdomen, nestled between his parents, and for that evening, at least, all was right with the world.