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"What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy dogs' tails,
That's what little boys are made of."
Dean loved his pups more than life itself. From the moment Jack had been placed in his arms, Dean’s protective instincts had been dialed up to eleven. He enjoyed his Omega role as the safety, offering his pups the secure comfort they needed when it came Cas’ heavy hand of correction. Dean had always been more than happy to step back and hand the disciplinary role over to his husband.
Cas’ dominant Alpha presence was naturally suited for laying down the law, and Dean preferred to be the one waiting with warmth, kisses and a chest to cry into when their Papa was stern.
The first time Dean took a pup in hand had been so awful he’d cried.
Jack had been disobedient and, when Dean had scolded him, been rude to his Omega parent. Dean sent him to his bedroom to wait for Cas’ arrival.
Cas closed the door to the master bedroom, his expression grave. Dean paced the floor, his green eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and lingering irritation.
"I'll go get him," Cas said quietly. "But you need to be the one to discipline him this time."
Dean stopped pacing, his jaw dropping slightly. "Caaaas…” Whining was beneath him but he couldn’t help it. “You know I hate that part. You're the Alpha, you handle it."
"He defied you, Dean," Cas countered gently, placing his large hands on his mate's shoulders. "He needs to understand that your authority is to be respected just as much as mine. If I always step in, he will think he can act out in my absence. It is time for you to give Jack a spanking."
Dean looked down at his hands, but he knew Cas was right. With a heavy nod, he steeled himself. "Alright. Bring him in."
When Cas returned a moment later guiding Jack by the shoulder, the six-year-old was already sniffing. He assumed he was walking into an encounter with his father's hand. But when Cas didn't sit down, and instead Dean sat on the edge of the bed with an unfamiliar look on his face, Jack’s scent spiked with worry.
"Jack, come here," Dean said, firmly in a tone that Jack had never heard used before.
Jack took a step back. "Daddy? No...but I thought– Papa?" He looked wildly between them.
"Go to Daddy," Cas said from the door. He gave the pup a soft nudge.
Jack shuffled forward, not really processing what was happening.
Dean reached out and pulled him close. In two seconds, Jack found himself turned over a knee. For the very first time in his life, it was his Omega Daddy’s thighs bracing him, pinning him firmly across the lower back.
Jack was beside himself with heartache and panic. The wrongness of the situation shattered him before a single swat even landed. This was his Daddy; the one who baked the pies, patted him to sleep, whose scent was supposed to be a comfort.
Dean didn’t hesitate in spanking his pup who immediately gave into distraught wails, even though the swats were light.
The pup helplessly twisted his neck around, his tear-filled eyes locking onto Cas in utter bewilderment, silently begging his Alpha father to step in and stop his universe from turning upside down.
Both Cas and Dean were acutely aware of the internal distress. They could smell the metallic tang of his confusion, understanding that this was his very first time receiving a spanking from Dean. It wasn't just his bottom that was stinging; his safe little world was being reordered.
Dean paused for a brief second, letting his large hand rest warm against Jack’s bare bottom. “I know, baby," he murmured. "I know it's different. But you do not disobey or disrespect me in this house. Do you understand why Daddy has to do this?"
Jack could barely answer through his hyperventilating tears. "Y-yes, Daddy! I'm sorry! Papa, please!"
"Papa isn't saving you tonight, pup," Cas said steadily, supportive of his mate, yet attempting to comfort the boy by remaining close.
Dean continued ensuring the lesson was thoroughly impressed upon a very sorry pup. By the time Jack was whimpering for him to stop, Dean had tears running down his own cheeks. It was terrible and he cast an upset glance at his husband for forcing him to be the one to do this.
The moment it was over, Dean didn't hesitate to pull the sobbing pup up into his arms.
“I can’t always be the disciplinarian, Dean,” Cas murmured a little later. He frowned as his mate offered nothing but a silent, protective glare, focused on the sleeping pup. Jack’s chest still hitched with occasional, post-cry sniffles, his small face buried in the safety of his parents’ mattress.
Dean refused to leave the boy's side. Lying flush against him, he subtly shushed the Alpha away, cuddling with a soothing heat Jack was eagerly gravitating toward.
Looking pained by the distance, Castiel finally climbed into bed, bracketing their pup between them. He slid a hand up to cup the warm nape of Dean’s neck, letting his scent flood the space with reassurance.
“I love you both, but Jack disobeyed you. The correction had to come from you,” Cas muttered softly, his voice carrying a familiar ache. “Believe me, I know it’s hard. It wasn't easy to listen to, either.”
Dean let out an exhausted sigh, finally letting his defensive posture melt into Cas's touch. “It sucked,” he whispered. “I never want to do that again.”
“I know,” Cas said, his thumb tracing a soothing circle. He leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Dean’s head, letting his calming scent wash over his stressed mate. “And I hope you won’t have to for a long time. He is safe, and he knows he is loved. That is what matters.”
"What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice, and everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of."
The trouble with Claire, even at five years old, was that she was far too smart for her own good. She had a sharp mind, a quick tongue, and a stubborn streak that stretched from here to the horizon.
It started with a missing silver wrench from Grandpa John’s toolbox. Dean had found it lying in the dirt out past the gravel driveway, its metal scratched and covered in sticky residue from a melted juice box.
When Dean confronted her in the garage office, Claire had looked at him with wide blue eyes. "I didn't touch it, Daddy. I was coloring. Maybe Jack took it."
She was good. Dangerously good. Her scent barely flickered, and her expression was a picture of innocence. Dean, exhausted from a long day of bookkeeping and wrangling the toddlers, actually believed her. He sighed, rubbing his face. "Alright, sweetpea. Go on back out to the waiting room."
Claire turned to leave, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. She almost got away with it.
"Hold on a second, Claire-bear," a low voice called out from the doorway.
John Winchester was leaning against the doorframe, his observant eyes locked onto his granddaughter. John had spent more than a decade tracking monsters; a five-year-old pup’s tells were amateur hour.
"Dad?" Dean asked, looking up.
"She's lying to you, son," John said calmly, stepping into the room. He pointed a finger toward Claire’s sneakers. "That’s the red clay from the ditch by the driveway. Jack’s been in the showroom all day with Cas."
Claire’s face fell with a guilty flush.
Dean raised his eyebrows. The missing wrench was an annoyance, but the blatant lie and trying to pin it on her big brother crossed a line. "Claire," Dean said, his voice dropping into an undeniable Omega authority. "Is that true?"
Claire looked up, her lower lip beginning to tremble as she realized she was caught red-handed.
"In this family, we do not lie. And we never blame a brother for something we did," Dean said, his heart heavy. He looked over at his father.
John gave a slow, sympathetic nod. He knew how hard it was for Dean to cross this bridge with Claire for the first time, but he also knew the girl needed to learn the lesson before that stubbornness grew into something dangerous. "I'll keep an eye on the front, Dean," John said softly. He reached out, gently patting Claire’s head as he passed her. "Be honest with your daddy, kiddo. It goes easier that way."
Once John closed the door, Dean took a seat in the office chair. "Come here, Claire."
Claire shuffled over, her face already scrunching with tears. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered, knowing what was coming. Papa would have taken her in hand, too.
"This is going to sting your bottom a little," Dean explained as he gently but firmly pulled her across his lap. "I think you might be a little like me: stubborn which is why you need this lesson. We need you to be able to trust your words. Now try to face your consequences like a big girl."
Claire squirmed as her father’s slightly cupped hand began popping little smacks on her upturned bottom. There was another sharp sting right on the curve where thigh met cheek.
"Owie!" she squealed dramatically.
"Spankings sting a little to remind you that naughtiness hurts people, including you," Dean lectured, keeping a gentle pace. "No more lying, sweet pea."
No matter how naughty Claire was, Daddy always called her "Sweet pea"– an endearment she loved.
Claire kicked her little feet as if she could run away. But she was stuck over Daddy’s knee, getting spanked!
"Is lying good?"
"Nooo, Daddyyy!" Claire wailed, too upset by the growing sting in her bottom to put up her regular tough front.
If lying got her one of these spankings, Claire would never lie again. All she wanted now was a hug. Dean's hugs were always good, even when he was stern; Claire knew because she had tested his patience before. Even now, as her bottom was warmed, she knew she was safe. But she would love to be wrapped in a comfy hug from her Omega parent instead of dangling over his knee.
"Are you going to tell me the truth from now on?" Dean asked.
"Yessss!" Claire cried repentantly. "I'll listen. I want a hug now 'stead." She sniffled, feeling like a baby, but those swats had been unexpected. She had just discovered that she hated spankings from Daddy even more than from Papa.
And suddenly, the discipline was over. Claire was lifted off his lap and pulled tightly against Dean's chest, being cuddled and getting that desired hug instead of more swats. Her bottom still stung, but the warmth of his embrace helped ground her.
Dean rocked her, letting his own scent turn sweet and comforting, wrapping her in a blanket of safety. "I've got you. You're okay," Dean murmured, kissing the side of her head. "I love you, Claire. But you cannot lie to me. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, Daddy," the pup said, squeezing his neck tightly. "I'm sorry."
A few minutes later, Dean opened the office door to guide a still-sniffling Claire back out to the garage floor. The moment she spotted her grandfather sitting by the workbench, Claire broke away and ran straight to him.
"My bottom hurts!" she sobbed, surprising even herself with the sudden burst of sadness.
"Oh, Claire-bear," John sighed. He stood and picked her up effortlessly, hugging her tightly to his chest.
John sat back down on the edge of the desk, adjusting her on his hip while holding a cold juice box and a couple of shop towels he’d prepared. His gruff exterior melted as he looked at his crying grandpup and his stressed son. He reached over, rubbing Dean’s shoulder in a gesture of solidarity.
Then John leaned down and gently wiped a stray tear from Claire's cheek with a calloused thumb.
"Alright, tough girl, dry those eyes," John said, his voice soft as he offered a sympathetic smile to them both. "Your daddy loves you. That's why he fixes the bad habits now. You're still Grandpa's favorite mechanic, alright? Just don't steal my tools again."
Claire let out a small, wet hiccup and nodded, nuzzling into John's neck, while Dean leaned into his father's touch, finally letting out the breath he'd been holding.
“What are little twins made of?
Echoes and glances, and double-step dances,
That's what little twins are made of.”
Dean knew for a fact his dad had to be grateful that he and Sam had been four years apart. The mischief of twin minds was ever challenging to chart.
The decision to spank had come with ease. Whether that was because Dean had finally grown confident in his role as disciplinarian from spanking the older kids, or because he was just permanently at his wit’s end with the duo, he wasn’t entirely sure.
He had just put them down for a nap when the familiar, scurrying patter of little feet echoed through the ceiling. Dean sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. They were clearly playing instead of sleeping again.
He headed back upstairs, jaw set and ready to deliver a stern scolding. But when he pushed the bedroom door open, he was surprised to find the room suspiciously empty.
Underneath the bed, the twins stilled, holding their breath. They watched their daddy’s boots pace slowly around the room before finally coming to a halt right in front of the bed. Jamie and River exchanged a mischievous nod. In synchronization, each boy grabbed an ankle, and pulled.
Dean didn’t even have time to yell. He was blindsided by their collective pup strength as his feet were violently yanked out from under him. He went down fast, landing square on his ass with a loud thud.
"Dean?" Cas’s concerned voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs, laced with worry. "Is everything alright up there?"
Wincing, Dean rubbed his bruised tailbone. "I'm fine, Cas!" he called back, keeping his voice steady despite the pain. "Why don't you go check on Ben? I'll be down in a few minutes."
A look passed between the twins who meekly peeked out from under the bed at their Omega parent. Dean dragged himself up and sighed, taking a seat in the chair by the small dressing table. He silently crooked his finger, gesturing for them to come to him. The pups did so with their hands protectively covering their bottoms and scents tinged with anxiousness.
"Do you want to tell me what you were thinking?" Dean waited patiently, letting the silence linger. When both boys mutely stared at their own socks, Dean continued. "Do you understand you can hurt someone doing that?"
“Yes, Daddy,” they both mumbled in unison, faces pink with embarrassment at having to be corrected, however mildly.
Dean looked between the two downcast faces, his expression firm but lacking any real anger. "Alright. River, go put your nose in that corner. No looking back."
River’s bottom lip trembled, but he didn't argue. He shuffled over to the designated corner, pressing his small nose right against the wallpaper, his hands still loosely hovering near his backside.
"Jamie, over here," Dean commanded softly, tapping his thigh.
Jamie crept forward, his shoulders hunched. He was familiar with the routine from Cas’s spankings. He laid himself across his daddy’s lap. Dean pulled the boy’s shorts taut and brought his palm down in five successive smacks.
One, two, three, four, five.
Jamie buried his face in his arms, letting out a whine with each swat, his toes digging into the carpet. When it was over, Dean rubbed his hand over the boy's lower back for a brief second to soothe. "Switch places with your brother."
Jamie scrambled down, rubbing his smarting seat and sniffling softly, though he kept his head high like the tough kid he tried to be.
"River, your turn," Dean called out.
River turned around, his big eyes already swimming with tears. He dragged his feet dramatically over to his daddy. Dean gently tugged him over, adjusted him, and delivered the same five crisp swats to River's bottom.
One, two, three, four, five.
The moment the fifth swat landed, River let out a wail. He scrambled up and buried his face right into Dean’s chest, flat-out sobbing. He hated knowing he had upset his daddy.
Dean called Jamie back and scooped both twins into a massive hug, pulling a sniffling Jamie into his side while rocking a weeping River on his lap.
"Hey, shh, I've got you," Dean comforted, letting his scent turn warm and sweet. "I'm not mad anymore. You two just can't be knocking people over. It's dangerous, okay?"
"We're s-sorry, Daddy," River blubbered into Dean's shirt, his small frame shaking with his tears. Jamie just nodded miserably, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder.
"I know you are. I love you both," Dean said gently. He gave River a smacking kiss right on his tear-stained cheek, then leaned over to press another kiss into Jamie's messy hair. "Now back into bed, both of you. And this time, you actually close your eyes."
The twins tucked themselves under the covers and Dean planted one last round of little kisses on their foreheads before slipping out of the room, leaving behind a quiet bedroom.
“What are little babies made of?
Cradles and coos, and tiny soft shoes,
That's what little babies are made of.”
"What’s Ben doing to Dada?" two-year-old Jamie inquisitively asked his uncle as he sat beside River watching Dean nurse the newest addition to the family.
"He's drinking milk." Sam thought the explanation made sense but when the pup’s expression remained unchanged, he realized Jamie didn't understand. "It’s how all pups eat, from their Omega parent or mom. You’ve seen kittens drinking from their mamas, remember? It's the same thing,” Sam said, enjoying getting to play educator to his nephews. He was a veteran when it came to information.
The twins looked at each other, stunned. "Dada gives Ben milks?" River reestablished.
Sam nodded while the pups processed the concept.
"How?" Jamie asked.
Dean smirked, knowing Uncle Sam was about to be given a taste of parenthood.
"Unca Sammy," Jamie persisted. "How milk get's inside Dada?"
Sam froze in panic. Explaining how an Omega provided sustenance for his baby was something he considered way beyond uncle responsibility. He shot Dean a panicked please help me expression and when he received nothing but an expectant look from his brother, Sam tactically retreated.
"Cas!" he yelled. "Your pups have a question!" and darted out the front door as fast as he could, Dean laughing after him.