I just. Can’t finish this. Too many memories attached. Enjoy....
He’s groggy, that much is for sure. Dean is trying to piece what is going on. Everything after the cocoon is a blur. Laying in a cot serving as a makeshift hospital bed. He’s vaguely aware of voices, ones he recognizes but can just barely not make out. The always annoyed and on edge voice of his Pop, arguing with the calm but spunky tones of Billy.
They must be talking about him, considering his breakdown in The Cocoon earlier. They have been happening more often lately, he’s noticed. The pressure of being a Super Scientist is getting to him. Pop doesn’t seem to notice or really care. Suddenly, they start yelling at each other. They must not know he is not awake. Even Pop has more tact than to talk about him while he is in the same room.
“How do I even know they are even Dean’s?” Pop asks.
“Because you tested them, you jackass!” Billy hisses.
His? Tested? He rubs his eyes furiously, trying to clear the fog in his head. He must have been out for a while. He has no idea what they are talking about. He can hear footsteps. Pop’s trying to leave the conversation, and Billy following because he isn’t done.
Dean tries to get up but falls back on the cot. He hates that he gets so light headed when he gets up sometimes. Dean decides to stay on the cot and gather as much information as he can. Them being a bit closer means he can hear them a little better.
“Doc,” Billy says, reigning himself in, but just barely. “Think about it. Even if they are not his, what’s the harm? He gets a little attached even though they aren’t related to him?”
“It’s not him I’m worried about, Billy,” Pop says, tone softened. “I’m worried about her. How she’ll react to the ....news.”
"Would you like it if somebody hid something like this from you?" Billy asks pointedly.
Pop sighs heavily. Dean can almost see him pinching his brow, trying to come up with a counterpoint. Dean is still lost and hopes they happen to give more information.
"Fine, she can bring them over tomorrow," Pop relents.
"Bring over who?" Dean asks, unable to help himself.
They turn to look at him, guilty expressions on their faces. Pop approaches him first, a painfully fake smile on his face. It's a bit unnerving, honestly. Billy refuses to make eye contact with him, busying himself with a dozen other things instead. Dean props himself up on the backboard. His Pop clasps his hand over his shoulder, probably as a show of support.
"Hey Dean," Pop says. "You can go back to your room now."
"And," Billy adds. "You have some special visitors tomorrow."
Dean tried to get more information while Billy was doing his last minute check up on him, but he was tight-lipped about it all. HELPeR wheeled in, chirping happily as he guides him back to his room. He lays in his bed, patting his plush giraffe in greeting. It's been a long three days and he is grateful to see his beloved Mr. Reachy again.
He hears the other bed open, revealing his slightly older brother Hank waking from an impromptu nap. After making sure Dean was all right, he started talking about everything he did while Dean was trapped. Dean doesn't mind Hank regaling him with clearly fake stories about his adventures on The Cocoon. Like Brock would fall for that Guyovitch shtick of Hank's or that any henchman of the Monarch could be a bigger nerd then him. It gave him time to ponder who Billy is talking about. He hopes it's their mommy. He never met her and Pop never talks about her. But Billy said they were for him, not him AND Hank. The mystery only deepens.
Next day turned into next week. Uncle Henry appearing and disappearing, Billy attacking Brock, the new archenemy of his Pop, it just kind of got pushed to the back until the day before his Pop's day camp thing. He was promised after their latest adventure, his guests would be staying the night. Their latest adventure being getting the lawn nice and tidy for tomorrow. With Brock's help, the hapless duo got the lawn in ship shape order. Hank was sulking the entire time, not even making a single garden tool joke. He must have been feeling left out because of the attention being lavished onto Dean. Dean said he could meet them too, causing Hank to roll his eyes and sulk even harder.
Finally, after washing up as Pop ordered them, they head to their shared bedroom. Pop said that is where they will be, a “nice neutral area in his opinion.” Dean knows that Hank is just as curious as he is. Dean didn't pay too much mind to the concerned looks from Mr. Billy and White as he went to his bedroom. “They are just being themselves,” as Pop would say dismissively.
Dean gets the honor of opening the door and sees a small pink haired girl with soft cat ears sitting on his bed. She appears to be cradling a wicker basket close. Dean tilts his head, confused. Not at the person in the room. He knows she is Roxanne, adopted daughter of Billy and White and the only real friend either of them has ever had. And it's not that she isn't special or anything. It's just that he doesn't think she counts as a special visitor. Certainly not special visitors, that is for sure.
Of course, now that he thinks about it, he hasn't seen her in nearly a year. He just sort of figured she must have been really busy with real school like Triana. Recently, he's seen her around a bit more. While trying to puzzle out the mystery at hand, a whimpering cry catches his attention. Before he can fully process what is happening, Hank lunges forward, exclaiming in glee. He can see a pair of pointed ears poke out of the basket filled with blankets. She picks up a small pink bundle as Hank grabs the other bundle.
"I didn't know they were kittens," Hank says, holding a wriggly bundle of brown. "I want one. Can I have one Roxx? Please? I'll take good care of him.”
"Well, if they were kittens, I would love to give you one," Roxx says slowly. "But they aren't."
"Then, what are they?" Hank asks, holding the bundle up. "This one has a tail. Like a kitty would."
"They're my babies," Roxx says, looking down, clearly shy all of a sudden. "And, the one you are holding? Her name is Rosalyn. This little girl is Amber."
She reveals a small definitely more human looking child in the bundle she was holding. Hank sits down next to her, laying the brown themed baby on his lap. The small baby kicks up at Hank's hand, much to his delight. Dean approaches and sits on her other side, looking at the small pink and cream tinted child Rox is holding. The child wriggles and buries her face into Rox's chest. Dean blushes as he realizes what the child is trying to do.
Dean can't ignore the elephant in the room. He knows that Roxx is not a Super Scientist or some kind of reptile that can reproduce asexually. Babies always have a mom and a dad. And if Roxanne is the mom, where is the dad?
"Uh Roxanne," Dean says, catching her attention. "Who is the dad?"
Roxanne's cheeks turn crimson. She fiddles with the baby in her arms for a moment, dodging his question for some reason. She settles the child for now before answering him.
"It's you, Dean," Roxanne says. "I know you travel all over the world all the time and probably don't remember or anything."
Looking at the small girl in her arms, he feels his heart beating faster as he moves a lock of hair away from the soft baby in her arms. He sees a familiar triangle of freckles on her cheeks. Heart in his throat, he hears the one with Hank squawk. Looking over, he sees hazel green eyes greet him, a slight pout on her face. Her eyes are just like his. His brain grinds to a halt as he realizes what this means.
"Hey, that means I'm an uncle!" Hank crows.
If Dean wasn't already sitting down, he would have fallen to the ground. The small pouty baby manages to escape Hank's grasp and gets into Roxxy's lap. He picks up the baby, keeping her from falling off the bed. She stays put in his lap, fascinated by his belt buckle. Hank leaves, remembering some random thing he forgot somewhere else. Dean is trying to process the news that has been put in his lap. Literally, in the case of the small kitten staring at his belt buckle. He doesn't know how to feel, at all.
Roxx would never lie to him about something so big. But how? He has never done...that with anyone. And yet, here is proof otherwise. Staring at his belt buckle with large eyes just like his. He pets her downy hair, not sure what else he can do. He hears the one, Amber right, fussing in Roxanne's arms. He looks over, still a bit numb with shock.
"She's hungry," he says, not sure how he knows just that he does.
"Uh, yeah," Rox says, blushing even more. "Could I maybe have some privacy so I can feed her? You can introduce Rosalyn to your pop and Brock?"
It's Dean's turn to blush now. He knows what she is getting at. He manages to get Rosalyn settled into his arms and heads into the kitchen with the squirmy baby. He opens the swinging door and White and Billy turn like prairie dogs. He walks in, trying to be casual about the child in his arms. They make an excuse to leave him alone with Brock and Hank. It seems that Pop is in the lab for "important" things. Something he is grateful for immensely.
He focused on Rosalyn, making sure to stay extra focused to prevent THAT from happening right now. He could see Hank was brimming with questions now and Brock was. Brock was Brock. He shot the occasional glance over but was overall not paying much mind to the baby in his lap. His baby. That he made with Roxanne. That he doesn’t remember or know how. Brow furrowed, he was giving it some serious thought when he realized that Hank was trying to get his attention.
He gets the child situated back on his lap as well as he can. She has her chin laying on the table and she seems content to sit where she is. Long as he keeps scratching her ears anyway. She leans into his touch and makes an intermittent purring like noise. The shock is starting to wear off. That or he's slipping into another break. Hopefully not. He doesn't want to hurt Rosalyn if that happens. He doesn't know what happens when he blacks out, just that he never wakes in the same place. His Pop acts like it never happens, but Dean knows better.
He looked up at his brother and Hank was bouncing in his chair. Blue eyes kept darting towards the small baby now laying in his lap, asleep. His hand was still petting her, only now the back of her head instead. He stopped for a moment, she made a soft noise so he continued. Hank was still giving him that look.
“What is it, Hank?” he asked.
“You never told me you and Roxx,” Hank said. “You know.”
“I don’t,” Dean said, bewildered.
“Didn’t pop tell you about,” Hank lowered his voice. “About the birds and the bees?”
“I guess, but it kind of turned into something about White Lion,” Dean admitted. “I still don’t know how babies are made.”
Brock looked at him, and there was a definite tenseness in his expression. He got up silently, a faint growl heard as he left. Hank and Dean looked at each other, confused at what is happening. Hank sat closer, eying the child curiously. Dean showed Hank the spot behind her ear that she liked scratched. Hank was enraptured when she leaned her head into his touch, still purring while asleep.
A loud door slam catches them off guard. Then they can hear Brock’s voice. Even with the countless layers of walls between the kitchen and the lab. Dean covered the infant’s ears, hearing Brock screaming at their pop. He and Hank share a scared look when the yelling stops. Brock came back in, eyes still full of rage. Behind him was Pop, looking like a whipped dog. Brock crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, eyes focused on Pop.
“Hey boys,” Pop started. “I’ve been meaning to give you. The Talk. I was going to wait until later but. Certain things came up.”
Pop cast a wary eye at Rosalyn between Hank and him and Dean felt a protectiveness bloom in his chest. He settled the child against his chest and wrapped his thin arms around her. She nuzzled into his sweater vest and he held her just a little tighter.
Pop took a seat across from him and Hank and took his glasses off, rubbing them clean before placing them back on his face. This was clearly not an easy conversation for him. He kept looking over at Brock nervously. Listening to Pop explain sex and babies and proper protection, Dean felt embarrassment coloring his neck and ears and face red. Thinking about how he did that with Roxanne, he felt his heart start to race. He must have, there is proof of that right in his lap, purring away.
The light oddly almost floating feeling was coming back. He looked over at Hank. He could see his lips moving but he didn’t hear anything he was saying. Oh no. It was happening again. He thrust Rosalyn at Hank and stood up. Dizziness turning his vision hazy, the last thing he saw before he hit the floor was a very confused Hank holding Rosalyn, small hazel eyes meeting his before everything went dark.
He woke up on the couch, eyes slowly coming back into focus. It was late, the windows showing the darkened lawn. He carefully sat up and looked around. It was too dark to see much but he couldn’t see anybody around. Blanket around him, he pushed it out of his way. Wrapping his arms around himself, everything catching up to him and he started to cry. Pop always scolded him when he caught him crying so he got really good at crying super quietly. He started as he heard a noise.
Looking, he saw the mound of a few old sleeping bags assembled on the floor. He saw cat eyes looking at him and realized it was Roxanne. She was looking at him, a most curious look on her face. He rubbed his hand across his face, trying to hide what he was doing. Nearby was a playpen of some kind, two little shapes sleeping inside it.
She sat up from her sleeping spot and got up on the couch with him. He tried to hide his face but she turned his face towards her. She brushed off the tears from his face. Not judging him or any looks of disappointment or anything. She just sat with him and let him compose himself. It took a bit of time but he appreciated it.
“Did you have a nightmare?” she asked.
“Not really,” he answered. “Just. It’s a lot to take in at once, you know?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “It. Was hard when I found out.”
“How did you,” he paused. “Find out?”
Roxanne shrugged as she looked away from him. He must have said something wrong and he was about to try and take it back when she started to talk.
“I was sick, throwing up every day,” she said. “At first, Dad thought it was just a stomach bug. But then. A few days turned into a few weeks and. Dad bought the test. He didn’t tell Father until. It came up positive. Father said it wasn’t accurate because I was half cat. He took me to a hospital, one that didn’t ask questions about him being there. The ultrasound showed that. I was carrying twins. He printed off some pictures. I saved them in a scrapbook. If you want, I can bring it over. Next time.”
“I would like that,” he said.
He knew he must have missed a whole bunch with the babies. He was kind of excited thinking about the scrapbook. He always wanted to be a dad. He kind of hoped he would have been a lot older and married and been with his wife for a bit and talked about it and stuff. But his life was always full of unexpected surprises.
