If you ever find yourself not busy with requests, might I impose? I would love to see some crobby mpreg with pregnant bobby. Perhaps Crowley makes a deal with him in Hell that he can have free reign, if he’ll bear Crowley’s children? But it’s consensual on Bobby’s part. Ta!

Tags/Warnings: Kinda sorta implied Bobby/Crowley, mpreg, grumpy!Bobby, fluff, cravings, moodiness/hormones, crying
Alternate Link: AO3

Title: Longing

Bobby struggles to get up from his chair, ignoring the way Dean and
Sam tense, as if they want to get up and help him. The other fifty
times he barked and snarled at them has trained most of that out of
them, but they’re gentlemen, were raised up right, and all Bobby’s
snarling doesn’t take that away.

He finally gets himself up and
waddles into the kitchen. He stares longingly at the beer for a moment,
not for the first time wondering if a half demon child would be
affected by alcohol. He needs to ask Crowley, if the idiot would show
up.

Bobby grabs a bottle of juice and opens it, then waddles back
into the living room just in time to see Sam and Dean pull a gun on
Crowley.

“Hey!” Bobby growls, satisfied when the boys flinch. “Down!”

“It’s for the mum to be,” Crowley says, holding up the large basket of goodies.

“Wait, what?” Bobby says, scowling at Crowley.

“Are you getting enough rest, sweets?” Crowley asks, and damn it but he looks concerned.

“You can knock that right the hell off,” Bobby says, then nods toward the basket. “Now what’s that?”

Crowley
reaches into the basket and holds out the most disgusting thing Bobby’s
ever seen. It’s purple and blue and yellow and there are spikes on it.
It’s about the size of an apple, but Bobby swears he sees it jiggle.

“I’m already carryin’ yer kid,” Bobby grumbles, “so you can just forget about shoving anything else in me.”

Crowley
deflates a little, and the look on his face seems like it might be
hurt. “You really think I’d do anything to upset you?”

Bobby shrugs. “Dunno.”

“This,”
he says as he holds up the thing in his hand, and yes, it does jiggle,
“is a gijbyarngn and it’ll settle your stomach as well as fill that
craving you’ve had for a beer.”

“Huh?” Bobby says, confused and a little disgusted.

“You
wanted alcohol,” Crowley says. “In fact I specifically recall you
wanting me to bring you a beer when you asked me to come here.”

Bobby
turns to Dean, then Sam, eyes wide. “If you breathe a word about any
of that longing shit or ever mention this again, nobody will ever find
your bodies. Understood?”

Dean and Sam both nod, backing up a step.

Bobby reaches out and snatches the thing from Crowley’s hand. “What do I do with it?” he asks.

“It’s like fruit,” Crowley says. “Take a bite out of it. It’s good.”

Bobby
sniffs it, not quite as disgusted when the thing has a sweet scent. He
takes a bite and immediately decides he wants more of them, moaning as
he chews.

“I brought four of them,” Crowley says proudly. “I’ll get you more if you want.”

Bobby
flops down onto his easy chair and slurps some of the juice from his
lips. Dean and Sam slowly lower themselves to their chairs, watching
Bobby with a morbid fascination.

“What else ya got?” Bobby asks, gesturing toward the basket.

Crowley
puts the basket down on the floor in front of Bobby and pulls out a jar
of something bright green. “This will help with stretch marks.”

Bobby scowls at him. “What makes you think I give a fuck about that?”

“Its other properties include a gentle warming effect and a very pleasant smell,” Crowley says.

Almost as if Crowley had reminded him, Bobby shivers. He has been cold ever since he started showing. He thought it was hormones.

“The
baby doesn’t like to be cold,” Crowley says, “and your body temperature
is lower because you’re working at growing our child.”

Your child,” Bobby mumbled with a mouth full of fruit.

“Well,
see, here’s the thing,” Crowley said, rummaging through other items in
the basket and pulling out a tall glass bottle. “He’s got your DNA too,
and that’s why I brought this.”

Bobby takes a whiff of the clear
substance in the bottle as Crowley waves it beneath his nose. He smells
cucumber and melon and lets out a soft moan because it’s his favorite
bubble bath.

“This will calm him down if you’re having trouble
getting to sleep,” Crowley says, then caps the bottle and puts it back
into the basket.

Bobby ignores the snicker from Dean. He really
deserves it after all the teasing he’s given the kid all these years
about his love of showers and smelly soaps.

“What else ya got?” Bobby asks, but frowns when Crowley pulls out a bag of white chocolate. “I’m not a chocolate kinda guy.”

Crowley
chuckles. “Females develop slower at first, but once they do come into
their own, they’ll give you stronger cravings than males. You’ll be
needing this.”

Bobby’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t know?” Crowley asks, puzzled expression on his face.

“You put two of these things in me?!” Bobby asks, struggling to get up, then giving up and just glaring at Crowley.

“No,” Crowley says. “They’re identical twins, not fraternal. A boy and a girl.”

In
the three months Bobby has been pregnant, he hasn’t really thought of
the baby as his. He hasn’t even thought of it as a baby. He made a
deal with Crowley and has been carrying something for him, that’s all.
Even when Crowley started calling the baby “he” it didn’t really hit
him, but for some reason the fact that Crowley says twins, it finally
hits him.

Twins. They’ll look alike. They’ll be two beings he’s
helped create and grown inside himself. And if the boy likes the same
bubble bath and the girl already is developing cravings for white
chocolate, they’re real.

His eyes well up with tears as he takes
the chocolate from Crowley. His bottom lip quivers and he doesn’t even
bother trying to hold it in. He doesn’t give a fuck what Dean and Sam
have to say about it. He’s got two babies in his body, and he’d almost
given in and had some beer, almost hurt them.

“Alcohol doesn’t hurt them, love,” Crowley says softly.

“I
didn’t even know,” Bobby whispers, tears running down his face. “I’m a
shitty father who doesn’t even know that his kids can handle alcohol.”

Crowley
crouches down and puts a hand on Bobby’s knee. “You’re a wonderful
father who chose not to drink alcohol so he didn’t hurt his children,
whether you knew it would or not.”

Bobby sniffs and opens the bag
of chocolate, shoving one in his mouth and chewing loudly as he sniffles
and wipes at his face. It tastes amazing, and it’s exactly what he
didn’t know he wanted.

“Thanks,” Bobby says to Crowley.

“Anytime, sweets,” Crowley says. “I mean it. Any time you need me. No matter what. Just think about me and I’ll come.”

“Okay,” Bobby says and shoves another chocolate in his mouth.

Crowley’s
suddenly gone and Bobby’s left with two wide-eyed guys frozen in their
chairs. Bobby holds the bag of chocolate close to his chest just in
case the Winchesters have any ideas about taking it.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Bobby grumbles, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “Beer me!”

Sam and Dean nearly kill each other as they both scramble to be the first out of the living room and into the kitchen.

Bobby
grins at he takes another piece of chocolate out of the bag and pops it
into his mouth, the babies inside him content for the time being.