Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 45

In Castiel's humble opinion, there really are ups and downs to being pregnant.

For example. His body hurts, almost all the time. In strange places too, joints and muscles that he isn't used to aching when he lays down at night. Missouri has assured him that it's normal, multiple times, but his limbs feel wiggly when he runs and no way he should have so many gas bubbles in his belly, right?

And then there's the morning sickness, which shouldn't be characterized by "morning" nor "sickness". Because it doesn't happen in the morning, and it's more like unrelenting nausea than it is actual vomiting. He's been feeling better lately though, so maybe he's through the worst of that.

He also feels incredibly, uncomfortably bloated. All the time. Castiel has never considered himself to be vain, and he isn't starting now. But his body just...has a different purpose, for the time being. He's used to being a predator, being lethal, and he couldn't be farther from that right now. Instead he's soft, and vulnerable, and he's growing a child inside himself.

It's taking some getting used to.

The exhaustion, that's been difficult too. One minute he's wide awake, the next he feels like he's been run over by a truck, or like he hasn't slept in five days. He's had to step off sentry because of it, which he can't say he's too sorry about. Dean certainly isn't sorry.

Dean, whose alpha instincts have been absolutely off the charts ever since he found out. Castiel can't really blame him, even if he does get tired of being treated like china all the time. He gets it, he does, he just...

Dean doesn't hug him as tight, doesn't fuck him as hard, won't wrestle with him in their nest, and is only barely okay with Castiel wandering out in the forest alone. Not like their territory is a fucking fortress, or anything. Not like Castiel can't handle himself, thank you very much. Not like he needs some overprotective, overbearing alpha telling him what to do and what not to do like he's some kind of child—

Castiel huffs and cuts off that train of thought. He picks at the bark of the thick branch he's laying on, then gives up and lets his arm hang free. His belly looks round from this viewpoint, but he can still see his feet. So that's something.

And maybe he's moping. Maybe he picked a random tree, far from the den, and climbed as high as he could. Maybe he walked through two different streams, and intentionally confused his trail, so that Dean wouldn't be able to find him.

They had a fight, that morning. Castiel hardly remembers how it even started. All he knows is how it ended, and that was with Dean smashing a mug of hot coffee against the opposite wall as Castiel stormed out the door.

"Oh," Castiel murmurs to himself. Hot coffee, that was it. Castiel wanted a second mug, and Dean said that more than one probably wasn't good for the baby. Which would have been fine, if Dean hadn't also told him that the sunny-side up eggs were a no go, and limited his bacon intake to three pieces. He wants as much bacon and eggs and coffee as he damn well pleases, and he wants his mate to stop treating him like he's breakable.

Suffice it to say that right now, Castiel isn't really in the mood to be pregnant.

There are good parts, too. Dean has an even harder time keeping his hands to himself, and there's something perfectly soothing about having Dean's warmth at his back and Dean's hands on his belly. Not to mention Castiel's libido, which has been thrown into overdrive. And he's never felt quite so close to his mate, to the love of his life, as he does right now.

He's also never felt quite so frustrated by him, but that's beside the point.

And none of that even touches on the miracle inside him. And it's theirs. He feels it grow every day, and it's incredible.