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Dean quietly hummed a song under his breath as he slid a wet cloth over the machete in his hand, wiping away the dried blood. In exchange for Sam doing the grocery shopping today, Dean had agreed to clean their weaponry. It was a tedious task, one that neither brother was ever keen on having to do, but in Dean's opinion shopping could be even more of an annoyance, so he was more than alright leaving Sam with that for this week.
While the man worked, he also kept an eye on Jack–who had been regressed for the past three days. His age had been fluctuating between two and three, so Dean set him up in his playpen with a bunch of his toys to keep him entertained.
Glancing over at his son, Dean smiled when he saw that the boy's eyelids were starting to look droopy. He darted his gaze over to the clock on the wall, seeing that it was almost noon. Jack usually didn't go down for his nap until about twelve-thirty, but by the looks of it the kid wasn't going to last much longer.
As Dean considered what to do, he wasn't paying attention to where he was running the cloth along the blade, and the next thing he knew a sudden and sharp pain was spreading across his palm.
"Fuck!"
The machete fell to the table with a clatter. He quickly pressed the non-monster blood side of the rag against his hand. It thankfully wasn't too deep of a cut, but it still hurt like a mother. He mentally cursed himself for making such a rookie mistake.
Then it hit him.
As the realization of what had slipped out of his mouth finally dawned on him, he froze in place.
Like a scene in some drama, Dean ever-so slowly peered his head up to look back over at his son. Jack was staring at him with an expression somewhere between curious and worried, all traces of sleepiness gone.
"Papa, you 'kay?"
Dean plastered on what he hoped was a reassuring smile and pressed his hand close to his chest, not wanting to freak the kid out more than he probably already was.
"Yeah, angel eyes, I'm okay. Papa just accidentally cut himself a little, that's all."
"Oh. What that word mean, papa?"
Dean briefly struggled for a response, before finally managing to say, "Well, that word can mean, uh, a lot of things. But sometimes people use it when something they don't like happens to them. I used it because I didn't like the way it felt when I was cut. Still though, papa shouldn't have used it in front of you. Think we can keep that a secret from mama, munchkin?"
Jack's brows slightly furrowed in confusion at that. "But mama says keepin' secrets is a no-no."
Crap.
"And your mama's right. But that only applies to bad secrets. Like, let's say, not telling me or mama when you don't feel well, or not telling us when you're feeling little. Stuff like that."
"Ohhhh, I un'er'sand now." Jack smiled up at him. "I keep papa's secret."
Dean breathed an internal sigh of relief, returning the little Nephilim's smile. "Thank you, chipmunk."
With a quiet grunt, Dean stood up from the table.
"Papa's gonna go get this taken care of really quick, okay? Then, it's nap time."
Three days later
Sam and Jack had just gotten done eating lunch. The long-haired man gathered the plates up from the kitchen table and took them to the sink to be washed. Before he got started on them, though, he wrapped the sandwich he'd made for Dean in foil and stuck it inside the refrigerator for when the older man returned home.
They received a call yesterday from a hunter just a town over asking for some assistance with a demonic possession. The young man–Brandon, if Sam remembered correctly–was new to the life, and this was his first ever encounter with a real demon. Dean agreed to go, while Sam stood behind to look after Jack. Fortunately, though, with Dean there the hunt was wrapped up within just a few hours. The older man texted him a couple of hours ago letting him know that he should be home around two o'clock that afternoon.
Just as Sam was about to get started on the dishes, however, his attention was completely overtaken by the word he suddenly heard come from his son.
"Fuck!"
Sam turned on his heel, the faucet still running behind him.
"Wh-what did you just say, sweetheart?"
Maybe he heard him wrong. Maybe his son had said something entirely different, and he just misheard him.
"Fuck. It's what you say when something you don' like happens," the boy responded, gesturing towards the blue, overturned plastic cup now laying in a puddle of golden liquid. "Asa'dentally knocked over my juice."
"Where did you hear that from, angel?" Sam asked, fumbling for a moment to turn off the sink's facet, before moving closer to his son.
Jack adverted his gaze to stare down at the floor. "Not a'posed to tell. S'secret."
Sam raised a brow, hands automatically landing on his hips. "And what did mama say about keeping secrets?"
Jack bit his lip, slowly peering back up at the man. "Um... that, um, secrets are a no-no?"
"That's right. Secrets are a no-no, because they'll only lead to trouble. Now, can you please tell mama where or who you heard that word from?"
The little Nephilim hesitated momentarily, before eventually replying in a sheepish tone, "Papa said it."
Sam exhaled a quiet exasperated sigh.
Of course.
"Jack, sweet pea, that's not an okay word for little boys to use. It's a grown-up word."
Jack's eyes went wide with alarm. "It–it is?"
Sam nodded seriously. "Yes, Jackie, it is."
"I didn'–didn' know. Thought anyone could say it." Tears filled the little Nephilim's eyes, voice beginning to waver. "M'sorry, mama. Please don' be mad."
Sam's face softened, letting his arms fall back down to his sides. "I know you didn't, sweet pea." He moved to stand beside the boy and put his arms around him, tugging him to rest his head against the man's chest. "It's alright, bubba. Mama knows you wouldn't have said it if you'd known. I'm not mad, Jackie, I promise."
However, he was in fact pissed at his brother.
Jack returned the embrace, nuzzling his face into his flannel covered chest. The man held him until he felt the little Nephilim's mouth open in big yawn. Sam moved his arms to his son's shoulders, then gently pushed him back.
"Why don't you go to the playroom and get comfy for your nap, while mama gets you some more juice. Okay?"
"Mama lay down with me?" Jack asked, knuckling his right eye.
Sam smiled down at him. "Yeah, baby boy. Mama will lie down with you until you fall asleep."
With a kiss to his forehead, Sam sent the boy off. After cleaning up the spilled juice and placing the plastic cup into the sink alongside the other dishes, he pulled out the apple juice from the fridge and a sippy cup from the cupboard. Twisting the top on after pouring in the juice, the long-haired man made his way to his son's playroom.
Jack drank about half of his juice before falling asleep. Once Sam was absolutely certain the little Nephilim wouldn't wake up if he moved, the man quietly padded back into the kitchen to take care of the dishes.
It was just as Sam began drying the dishes that he heard the distinct sounds of bunker door opening and footsteps on the stairs, signifying Dean's arrival. Sam waited for the man to find him in the kitchen.
Soon enough, Sam felt a pair of muscular arms encircling his waist from behind, immediately followed by lips pressing a chaste kiss to the back of his neck.
"Hey, baby," Dean whispered next to his ear. "How's your day goin'."
Sam set down the mostly dried plate on the counter and turned in Dean's arms. Instead of the welcome home kiss the other man had probably expected from him, however, Sam crossed his arms and leveled him with an unimpressed stare.
"Whoa, what's that face for? Don't tell me I'm in trouble already," Dean teased, attempting to lighten the mood.
"You are, actually."
"Wait, what?" Dean let go of the younger man and took a step back. "Seriously? I literally just got home. What could I have possibly done wrong in the few seconds I've been back?"
Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's not anything you did today. Would you like to know what your son said this afternoon?"
"I am so confused right now, man." Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Tell me. What did he say?"
"Fuck. He said, fuck."
Dean's eyes went wide.
"Oh... fuck."