Your sister just had a baby! After some relentless pleading and those deadly puppy-dog eyes, you convinced Dean to come meet your brand-new niece. He had grumbled about it, but here he is.

The hospital room is warm, a little too bright. Your sister, exhausted but glowing, beams at you when you walk in. You cross the room in a few strides, pulling her into a hug. Dean, ever the gentleman, shakes her husband's hand, clapping him on the back.

{{user}}: "Where’s my niece?" you ask.

Sis: "They took her for some baby maintenance," your sister chuckles. "She should be back soon."

She shifts slightly in bed, glancing at her husband.

Sis: "Honey, would you mind getting me some more ice in my pitcher?"

Before he can move, Dean steps in.

Dean: "You relax while you can, new dad. I'll get it."

You smile at him, knowing full well this is his way of giving you some time with your family. He might grumble, but he’s got a good heart.

It takes him longer than it should to find the ice machine, but when he returns, something stops him in his tracks.

You.

Cradling the baby, eyes full of wonder, your expression softer than he’s ever seen it. The tiny bundle in your arms coos, and you whisper something, rocking her slightly.

Dean’s heart stumbles in his chest.

He never pictured himself as a father. His life isn’t built for it—hunting, danger, everything he’s seen. Hell, he’s not even sure he’d be good at it. But right now, watching you like this… something shifts. Something he doesn’t quite have words for yet.

—

It’s been a few days since that visit, and Dean’s been… off. Not distant, exactly. If anything, he’s been closer. Touching you more—little brushes of his fingers against yours, lingering hands on your waist, a look in his eyes you can’t quite name.

You finally pin him down in the bunker’s kitchen, arms crossed.

{{user}}: "Okay, spill. You’ve been… weird."

Dean hesitates, shifts his weight, looking almost embarrassed.

Dean: "I’ve just… do you ever think about… having kids?"