Summary: kijikun asked for girl!Sam/Gabriel, baby names on the Non-Angst Kink Meme, and, well, this came out.
A/N: This wanted to stay a firmly PG drabble, dammit. But it was fun researching the names.
Sam waved pointedly at Dean’s worried look between her and the door to her single, but she wasn’t in a mood to share a room, or see Cas wrapped around her big brother. She loved Cas, but no. Besides, she liked her privacy and since they could afford it for the moment, she was going to indulge. Dean blew out a breath and let Cas tug him into their room, and Sam grinned as she walked into hers, shutting the door firmly behind her. The duffle already rested on the floor, the second one of weapons right beside it because Cas wouldn’t let her lift anything heavier than five pounds and often not even that after he’d spent one night poring over the Internet for advice on pregnant women.
She grinned a little as her hand fell to her tummy in a gesture she’d come to find was both instinctive and innately reassuring. The lump of the baby was small but solid under her hand, just coming into its gender. More importantly, she was past the most immediate danger of miscarriage, which meant it was time to start thinking about names.
She booted up the laptop and rolled her eyes at the plate of fruit and whipped cream that had just appeared at her elbow. “I ate dinner,” she grumbled at the thin ether, but she knew better than to argue when Gabriel was fussing, and he’d just scold her when he turned up later if his offering was untouched. Besides, nothing quite beat his idea of a quick snack.
She was nibbling on a sweet cherry and browsing babynames.com when the rustle of feathers filled the room and Gabriel’s presence surrounded her, the Mark thrumming in recognition that was soul-deep. She tipped her head back with a smile and he caught her mouth in a quick kiss.
“Hey, baby.” He cast a satisfied look at the largely empty plate by her side, a finger scooping up a hefty dollop of whipped cream and popping it into his mouth as he peered at her screen. “Whatcha doin’?” he asked, and she blushed a little. The big bad hunter was poring over baby names every bit as diligently as she did her research, and she had list after list of names she’d picked and then abandoned by her side. It was a little embarrassing.
“We can cut off half,” he informed her cheerfully. “It’s a girl.”
Her breath caught, hand dropping to her womb. A girl? She’d figured, when she’d let herself think about it, that it’d be a boy given the spells the witches had woven and the Deal they’d struck with the demons who’d taken her. A boy Lucifer, who’d been suspiciously quiet ever since Gabriel had Claimed her, would take for a Vessel given half the chance.
She’d never really let herself consider a girl.
A girl. A little girl to sing to and laugh with, to gang up against the guys and wrap them all around her small fingers. A girl to teach to flirt and hustle, to learn about makeup and boys and everything that went bump in the night.
“You’re sure?” A stupid question, but the only one in her head right now.
“Oh, yeah, Sammy. She’s definitely a girl.” He smirked. “And between me and Uncles Dean and Cas, she won’t be dating until she’s fifty. At least.”
She…wasn’t going to tackle that at the moment. That would wait until puberty, at least.
“Names,” she said aloud, and he studied the site before them. Somewhat to her own surprise, she’d found herself gravitating towards the traditional, largely Hebrew and Biblical. Names had meaning, she knew that all too well, and she wanted to pick carefully.
“I like the options,” he murmured with open approval, and she flashed him a quick, wry smile. Hell, the kid was half angel, her name should honor her heritage and while a fair amount of the bible was deeply questionable, she hadn’t missed Gabriel’s fondness for Hebrew.
He nodded, eyes traveling down the list before he paused, head tilting slightly. “Damaris?”
From the New Testament, meaning gentle. She cast him a rueful look. “A Winchester named Gentle?” They both considered it for a moment.
“I’m not naming her Delilah, Dean would never let us live it down. What about Esther?”
“Star?” He hummed briefly as he considered, then shook his head. “Nah.”
She frowned at the list. Female names originating from Hebrew were few and far between, and they were running low on options. She didn’t really want to have to get into women she knew and had lost, even if she had briefly played with Pamela. But…she’d liked the psychic, truly she had, but they hadn’t been that close. They’d been comrades in arms, with a dose of cheerful lust on the side from the unabashedly bi woman, not friends. There was a difference, and there were a lot of people she’d lost that meant more. Besides, it didn’t feel right.
“Mary,” Gabriel suggested, and she bit her lip. Mary. She knew that Mary, the Mary, had been the first human soul to touch him, to teach him the beauty of humanity. But at the same time, there were too many connotations, too much attached to the name: the mother she’d never known, the woman who’d died trying to protect her—the woman who’d sold her in a Deal ten years earlier and played no small part in the misery that had befallen her entire family. She didn’t hate her mother, but she wasn’t going to saddle her firstborn with that name and the legacy handed down with it.
“No. I want her to have her own name,” she tried to explain, hoping her mate would understand and accept. “A clean slate to build whatever she wants on, not something handed down through the family like Mom named me and Dean.” Named for the father and mother who had died at Azazel’s hands, leading Mary straight into the Deal that had stolen her life, and nearly cost Sam and Dean their souls. No, that wasn’t a legacy she was passing down to her child.
Lips pressed against her hair, his arm tightening around her shoulder. “Not Mary,” he agreed softly. “Which leaves out Ellen and Joanna too, then. No kid of mine is going to be any variation of Roberta.”
“I’m not calling her Deanna. Dean’s head would pop from the ego boost or he’d kill me. Maybe both.”
Gabriel snorted. “Might have to try that one for the hell of it, Sammy.” He was quiet a moment before he spoke again. “How about Magdalena?”
Sam paused, considering. “Greek, meaning woman from Magdala.”
“You’d have liked that Mary,” Gabriel told her softly. “She had a fire to her that reminds me of you. The Seven Sins were possessing her, trading her between them, but she didn’t break and she didn’t give in. And in the end, she beat them at their own game because she survived and they were cast back into Hell.”
“Magdalena,” Sam murmured, tasting the name and the rightness to it. “Maggie. I like it.”
A flutter from her stomach suggested that Maggie approved, and she smiled. Maggie it was.