Fic: A Rose By Any Other Name (Would Get the Stuffing Kicked out of You on the Playground) (1/1)
Fic: A Rose By Any Other Name (Would Get the Stuffing Kicked out of You on the Playground of Life) (1/1)
Series: Chance Winchesterverse
Summary: Chloe and Dean's guide to parenting (mostly). Step one: Pick a name.
Author: pen37
Beta: clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe Sullivan, Dean Winchester, Peanut (Chance) Winchester
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: g
This is dedicated to tobywolf13, whose Kon stories have been a source of inspiration and amusement.
“You know, we should really think up a name for this kid,” Chloe said. “We can't get by with calling him ‘peanut’ forever.”
Dean looked down at his very pregnant girlfriend where she reclined against his chest. Until recently, they'd been comfortable on the couch with him resting his head on her stomach, listening for the baby. But the kid was getting big, and Chloe was starting to get rounder and a lot of things they used to do weren't that comfortable anymore. Even for a mutant like her with awesome healing powers.
“Whatever we do, we better not name him after a dead relative,” Dean shook his head. “Kid's got enough to overcome without giving him someone else's baggage.”
“Agreed,” Chloe nodded. “Especially if he gets the meteor gene from my side of the family.”
“What makes you think that's going to happen?”
“It's bound to show up somehow,” Chloe said. “Mom, me.” She didn't say anything, but he could see the shadow of worry in her eyes.
“He'll be fine,” Dean said. “He's got Winchester genes. So if he is . . . a little different because of the freaky green rocks . . . well, look at Sammy.”
She nodded, but he could still see the worry in her eyes.
“And speaking of which . . . don't you think the kid'll be a little confused if his mom has a different name?”
“This isn't another one of your clumsy marriage proposals, is it?”
“It is if you say yes.”
“Will you lay off?”
“I will if you say yes.”
She heaved a long sigh, and patted her stomach over where his hand rested. “I want this kid out of me yesterday.”
“S'not so bad,” Dean whispered in her ear. “I kind of like you like this.”
“Don't get too used to it, Winchester,” she snapped. “Natural childbirth may sound nice in theory, but I want drugs.”
“Okay, the whining is not attractive.”
“Stupid meteor powers that won't let the stupid drugs work. You get to have the next one,” she pouted as she laid her head back on his shoulder.
“Ain't happening.”
“It could with the right meteor rock,” she muttered.
“Two words darlin’: hell and no.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence while Dean thought about the baby boy. He was definitely football sized by now. He'd long since passed the peanut stage. Although Peanut Winchester sounded a lot better than Football Winchester, now. He was sure that later in life, either name would get his kid beat up on a playground.
“We could name him Butch,” he said.
“You're joking, right? I hope you're joking.”
“Mostly.”
“If you're not joking, then I'm going to beat you to death with your own wrench.”
“Preggers chicks are testy, you know that?”
“A big wrench.”
Dean sighed. “Awesome.”