Confessions to My Past

“I kind of like Nathaniel.”
“Nathaniel?” Dean looked up from the newspaper. “Where did that come from?”
“Heard it somewhere.”
‘Gossip Girl’, to be exact, but I as sure as hell wouldn’t tell Dean that.
“Nathaniel, hm?” He pondered on that for a while.
“Nathaniel Dean Winchester.” I let that roll of my tongue. “Sounds good to me.”
Dean’s head snapped up and his eyes bored into mine. “What?”
“It sounds good to me.”
“No, before that.”
“Nathaniel Dean Winchester? What about it?”
Dean remained quiet for half a minute. I believed to know what rattled through his mind; whether this was a discreet hint for him to finally pop the question. That thought almost made me smile; the fearless Dean Winchester, who faced bloodthirsty, violent monsters on a daily basis, was scared of marriage. Well, he might not be the only one.
Dean finally said, slowly: “I thought you would want… a different surname.”
“Why would I want a different surname for our child than Winchester?” I frowned. Apart from me loving the name Winchester (always had, somehow), it was a natural decision. At least, I thought so.
“Well – I mean, I probably won’t make it to every parents’ conference, won’t be home all too much… don’t you think people are going to talk when your child doesn’t have your surname and the father’s gone all the time?”
“So?” I took a hearty bite of my sandwich. Toast with cottage cheese and smoked turkey breast, yum. “Let ’em talk. Hell if I care.”
Dean smiled, leaned forward and wiped a drop of cottage cheese from my chin.
“Don’t patronize me.” I protested and took another large bite.
“You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes. “Anyways. Apart from me liking the sound of ‘Winchester’ a lot more than of ‘Hepburn’, I’m not concerned about what people talk about me, I can handle a few adults who have nothing else going on in their boring lives. Kids can be a lot more vicious, and I don’t want our son having to explain why he doesn’t have his father’s last name.” I finished my breakfast and wiped my hands clean. “So, that’s the end of the surname discussion, let’s get to first and second name.”

*****

Dean looked at his girlfriend with pride and amusement. Josie was simply amazing. Not the easiest, maybe, but definitely worth it.
When she’d first said that she wanted their son to be named Winchester, he’d feared she was going to press him to get married; but none of that ever left her lips, nor did she ever indicate it elsewhere.
“Is that a German thing?”
“Huh?” She looked up, still chewing on her last bite.
“That whole ‘I couldn’t care less about what people say’ attitude and the strict refusal to plant even one shrub in the garden, to go to local church… and all that in an almost-Stepford neighbourhood.”
Dean and Josie had decided on moving further up North, and had bought a beautiful large cottage near Boston. Amy and Sam had moved in with them, naturally, though they weren’t clear about what their relationship was. Amy had just been sure she couldn’t leave Josie, and Sam and Dean stuck together as always.
“Nope. It’s a Josie-thing. Believe me, coming from the country of garden gnomes; German suburbs are nearly as bad as American ones concerning all the social conformities crap. I didn’t care then, I ain’t gonna start caring now.” Josie took her plate and put it in the dishwasher. “You want another coffee?”
“I’m still good, thanks.”
“So, first names.”
“Hey, sweetheart, no pressure.” Dean laughed at Josie’s enthusiasm bordering on mania. She’s been hammering him for the past two days now.
“Honey, we have a deadline. Well, actually, it’d be more of a lifeline, but whatever. Two months. And I’ve got to plan Christmas, too. Promise me you and Sam won’t take a case over the holidays, please. I’m begging you.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Great, then we have that at least.” Josie beamed, then pulled a face as her hand flew to her belly. “Whoo, quite a kick there.”
She smiled and took Dean’s hand, putting it on her baby bump. “Definitely your kick.”
Josie watched as Dean’s face lit up in a perfectly content smile.

*****

“Geez, it’s hot in here. You mind opening the windows?” I fanned myself. We’ve just all come back from an afternoon downtown, just strolling around and window-shopping… it’s been wonderful.
“Are you kidding? It’s a freaking freezer in here!” Amy shuddered.
“I’d have gone with South Pole.” Sam stated.
“Nah, feels more like North Pole.” Dean chimed in as he locked the door behind us.
“Sorry, honey, three against one.” Amy said as she set water to boil for tea.
“Well, I’m pregnant, so I win anyways.” I leaned forward and opened a window. “Ah, better.”
“Geez, will I be glad when you finally have the baby and can’t bring forth that argument anymore.” Amy grinned as she set down a huge plate filled with my home-made cookies (after old family recipes), tea, coffee and hot chocolate down before us on the couch table.
“You’re not the only one.” I groaned as I sank back into the cushions. Dean immediately started massaging my back, and I let out a languorous sigh.
“So I invited Bobby over for Christmas, you guys haven’t heard of Cass, have you?” I took my cup of hot white chocolate that Dean handed me with a thanks.
“Nope, he’s still gone. Floating around in Heaven, I suppose… the angels have a hell of a mess to clean up.”
“Fair enough.” I snuggled against Dean. “Still, for Christmas, you think they could shine down.” I absent-mindedly stroked my belly. “By the way, do you want red-gold or blue-silver?”
“What?!”
“Decorations. On the tree. Red and gold or blue and silver?”
“Er…”
“Of course, we could also do purple and pink, my personal favourite-“
“Thanks, I’ll pass. Red and gold sounds just great.” Dean quickly interrupted.
“I could also offer turquoise and pink-“
“No, really, sweetheart. Red and gold.”