"Right now," repeats Dean, licking his lips, "That's - right now." He has a sudden, wild urge to peel the bedsheets away, but there's nothing to see yet, and by some miracle, he refrains. "Right now."

He stares dumbly for a moment more before looking up again, takes note of how he can't actually see her face at all. "Hey," he says, jolted back. His hand comes up, cupping her cheek until she looks at him. Pregnant. She's pregnant. "You're sure?"