"Bobby," Dean spoke into the phone. "What do you know about male pregnancy?"
"Boy, did you get yourself knocked up?"
"Nooooo. Not me. Nuh-uh."
"Did Sam get himself knocked up?"
"No. Look, what do you know about it?"
"Demons, generally," Bobby replied. "Sometimes an incubus with a nasty sense of humor. Heard of one time it was a Trickster. I can dig around a bit..."
"What about two human guys? Both men, both human, and one gets the other one pregnant. Know anything about that?"
"Can't happen. Basic biology. Either the pregnant one's not human, whoever knocked him up isn't human, or he's screwing around. No third option."
Dean closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. "Look, there's a pregnant guy, and the...one of the fathers is more-or-less human, and the other's human as far as I know. I just want to know what's going to happen to them." And if he was going to be an uncle in the good way, or the exterminate-the-freaky-hellspawn way.
"More or less human? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Sam knocked some guy up. Delaware someone. I don't really know him. I just want to be sure..."
There was the sound of the phone being banged against the table, followed by more swearing than Dean had ever heard from Bobby in his life. Then the sound of clattering plastic, and a dial tone.
"Bobby? Bobby?" Dean hung up and called back. He got nothing but a busy signal. "Dammit, why don't people tell me things!"
---
The next morning, he awoke to the site of Bobby and a very large shotgun.
Sam was standing in the corner, packing his suitcase and looking frightened. Della was giving Bobby an annoyed glare.
"Hey, Bobby." Dean sat up slowly, feeling for the pistol under his pillow. From this angle, he might be able to pull off a lucky shot to the leg if things got really desperate. "What's going on?"
"Damn Winchesters." Bobby spat. He kept the shotgun at the ready, not quite pointed. "We're going to San Francisco. You can come if you like. Should be a nice family occasion."
"Dad..." Delaware whined.
"Don't you start, Stephen!"
"Stephen?" Dean looked at Delaware, then at Bobby. "Dad?"
"That's right," said Bobby. "Your brother knocked up my boy, and now he's going to do right by him, no matter how far we have to drive to get there."
Sam snapped the suitcase shut, and gave Dean a pleading look.
It was, as far as Dean could remember, about fifteen hundred miles to San Francisco, and about a day to drive. More if Della had pregnancy bladder. Plenty of time to work out a real solution.
So he gave Sam his most evil grin. "My baby brother's getting hitched!"
no subject
"Boy, did you get yourself knocked up?"
"Nooooo. Not me. Nuh-uh."
"Did Sam get himself knocked up?"
"No. Look, what do you know about it?"
"Demons, generally," Bobby replied. "Sometimes an incubus with a nasty sense of humor. Heard of one time it was a Trickster. I can dig around a bit..."
"What about two human guys? Both men, both human, and one gets the other one pregnant. Know anything about that?"
"Can't happen. Basic biology. Either the pregnant one's not human, whoever knocked him up isn't human, or he's screwing around. No third option."
Dean closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. "Look, there's a pregnant guy, and the...one of the fathers is more-or-less human, and the other's human as far as I know. I just want to know what's going to happen to them." And if he was going to be an uncle in the good way, or the exterminate-the-freaky-hellspawn way.
"More or less human? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Sam knocked some guy up. Delaware someone. I don't really know him. I just want to be sure..."
There was the sound of the phone being banged against the table, followed by more swearing than Dean had ever heard from Bobby in his life. Then the sound of clattering plastic, and a dial tone.
"Bobby? Bobby?" Dean hung up and called back. He got nothing but a busy signal. "Dammit, why don't people tell me things!"
---
The next morning, he awoke to the site of Bobby and a very large shotgun.
Sam was standing in the corner, packing his suitcase and looking frightened. Della was giving Bobby an annoyed glare.
"Hey, Bobby." Dean sat up slowly, feeling for the pistol under his pillow. From this angle, he might be able to pull off a lucky shot to the leg if things got really desperate. "What's going on?"
"Damn Winchesters." Bobby spat. He kept the shotgun at the ready, not quite pointed. "We're going to San Francisco. You can come if you like. Should be a nice family occasion."
"Dad..." Delaware whined.
"Don't you start, Stephen!"
"Stephen?" Dean looked at Delaware, then at Bobby. "Dad?"
"That's right," said Bobby. "Your brother knocked up my boy, and now he's going to do right by him, no matter how far we have to drive to get there."
Sam snapped the suitcase shut, and gave Dean a pleading look.
It was, as far as Dean could remember, about fifteen hundred miles to San Francisco, and about a day to drive. More if Della had pregnancy bladder. Plenty of time to work out a real solution.
So he gave Sam his most evil grin. "My baby brother's getting hitched!"