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Happy Accident

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Ellen thrusts the steak towards Bobby. He eyes it warily before taking it from the plate in her outstretched hand.

“Put that on your eye. It’ll keep it from bruising up so bad. But don’t think I’m not still pissed at you!” She shakes a finger in his face, dangerously close to the eye that isn’t covered by a ribeye.

“Now, Ellie, honey, I think you misunderstood me,” Bobby starts, but she turns on him before he can mount a defense.

“Bobby Singer, you are lucky that I am in a family way or I would whip you six ways from Sunday! You do not say things like that to a lady!”

“Hold on there, Ellen!” He flinches when she raises her hand again. “What I said was ‘Aren’t you too old to get pregnant?’ I mean, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” She shouts, banging her hand on the table. “Do you think I would’ve told you if I wasn’t sure?”

He feels like a flustered teenager, talking about accidents and babies. Bobby had really thought that by this point in his life all that was behind him, but apparently someone had other plans.

Ellen sighs and sinks down into the chair next to him. “I’m sorry. I know what you meant. I just. I wanted you to be happy.” She smiles weakly, and he does his best to return it, but neither of them really mean it.

“I never wanted kids. You know that. Karen and I-”

“You don’t have to explain, hon.” She reaches across the table and places her hand over his.

“Now, just a minute. Let me talk.” Bobby does his best to focus on her with one eye still covered. “I don’t want you thinking I’m not happy, or even worse, going and doing something stupid.”

Ellen frowns and bites at her lower lip, but nods for him to continue.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, is all,” he continues, unsure of his footing in the conversation. “Been a long time since I thought about babies, and to be honest I figured we were closer to you becoming a grandma than a mom again.”

“D’you know something I don’t about Jo?” Ellen demands.

“Good lord, woman! No! She’s just that age, is what I’m saying.” Bobby leans back, and Ellen sinks down into her chair again. “Why does this have to be so hard?”

“You think this is the hard part? Oh ho, just you wait. You ain’t even seen morning sickness yet.” She all but snarls at him, and Bobby decides that he’s had about as much venom from her as he can take.

“Why are you so damn angry about this?” he asks, lowering the steak so he can look into her eyes.

Ellen crumbles. Her lower lip trembles, and tears spring up in her eyes. “Because I’m terrified,” she says in a harsh whisper. “Because you’re right. I’m too old, and you don’t want kids, and look at the kind of life we lead. It’s no life to bring a baby into. I can’t do this alone. Not again.” Her voice cracks, and she blinks, fat grey tears streaking mascara down her cheeks.

Bobby sets the raw steak back on the plate and wipes his hand on the leg of his jeans before rounding the table to stand next to Ellen. She turns and buries her face in his stomach, and he strokes her hair.

“You’re not gonna do this alone. I’m gonna be here. I’m scared, too, honey, but you’re the expert, and I’ll do my best.” He swallows hard, and nods even though she can’t see. “I’ve seen the inside of all kinds of monsters. I reckon I can handle a diaper or two.”

At that she laughs, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. She tips her head up to look at him and wipes at her eyes. Bobby digs his handkerchief out of the back pocket of his jeans and she takes it with a smile.

“You really want this baby?” she asks, looking up at him with concern.

“Yes,” he answers. “I never got to watch you be a mom to baby Jo, and I reckon that’s a sight to see.”

At that she grins broadly, and stands up to hug him properly. She kisses him on the cheek, then steps back, collecting herself.

“I gotta call Jo and tell her. You should call the boys, have them come round. I’ll cook, and we can celebrate.”

“Yeah, all right, hon,” he says, giving her a playful swat on the behind when she turns to go. “Whaddya want me to do with this?” He calls after her, holding up the plate with the steak on it.

“Put it on the counter,” she replies from the other room. “That’s dinner.”

Bobby grimaces, but complies, sliding the plate onto the counter top before heading to the phone bank to call Dean and tell him the news. The good news.