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"I Solemnly Swear"
Title: I Solemnly Swear
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Rating: PG13 (for language)
Category: SPN Gen (wee!chesters, Sam 5, Dean 9)
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 477
Summary: Kids say the darndest things...
“Son of a bitch.”
John’s seemingly endless pen-scratching stops dead and he looks up from the kitchen table and his spread out papers. His gaze tracks into the living room where his two sons reside. One is looking with a frown at his spilled paint and the other is looking anywhere but at John, face red and hands fidgeting.
“Sammy,” John says and his five year old looks up, seemingly unaware of what he’s just done. “What do we say about swearing?”
“Not in front of Daddy?” Sammy hazards with his face scrunched up and John catches sight of Dean sliding sideways out of his chair, like he’s preparing to make a run for it. With Sammy’s pronouncement, he has sealed Dean’s fate. John can forgive a slip of the tongue, Sammy happening upon language he shouldn’t because of his bat-like hearing and insatiable thirst for knowledge, but not when he’s been coached, probably purely for the hilarity gained from hearing Sammy utter such words in his high, sweet voice.
“Dean,” John growls and Dean freezes, one foot on the floor and one leg still on his chair, arms and torso already swung in the direction of his bedroom like his body is still trying to pull him away from the situation. At his name, snapped out with the thread of reprimand underneath, he pulls himself back onto his chair, back ram-rod straight and face tense.
John understands that swearing is a fact of life, will never be one of those parents that thinks a mouth rinsed out with soap will be cleaner of profanity. He also would rather that Sammy, still with only enough years to his life to merit one hand full of fingers, would’ve refrained for a little while longer.
Dean doesn’t try to deny his role in what is unfolding like most children would. He accepts he’s been caught out and is waiting patiently for his sentence. Sammy, still mostly unaware of having landed his brother well and truly in it, points an imperious finger at his stuffed monkey, sitting up on the table in front of him and says, “Go fuck yourself.”
Dean’s eyes go wide and round, horrified beyond belief. “I didn’t-!” he starts to protest but John just puts a hand up.
“Go to your room,” he snaps and Dean does, not even bothering to try to proclaim his innocence further. Sammy tugs the stuffed monkey off the table by a paw and follows his brother, looking confused when he’s met with a slammed door.
John, for his part, lowers his head into his hands and finally lets the shakes of a great belly laugh take him over. He remembers a phone call only two hours earlier, remembers that Sammy and Dean were supposed to be outside playing and how he’d uttered that exact phrase right before he’d hung up.
Author:
kellifer_ficRating: PG13 (for language)
Category: SPN Gen (wee!chesters, Sam 5, Dean 9)
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 477
Summary: Kids say the darndest things...
“Son of a bitch.”
John’s seemingly endless pen-scratching stops dead and he looks up from the kitchen table and his spread out papers. His gaze tracks into the living room where his two sons reside. One is looking with a frown at his spilled paint and the other is looking anywhere but at John, face red and hands fidgeting.
“Sammy,” John says and his five year old looks up, seemingly unaware of what he’s just done. “What do we say about swearing?”
“Not in front of Daddy?” Sammy hazards with his face scrunched up and John catches sight of Dean sliding sideways out of his chair, like he’s preparing to make a run for it. With Sammy’s pronouncement, he has sealed Dean’s fate. John can forgive a slip of the tongue, Sammy happening upon language he shouldn’t because of his bat-like hearing and insatiable thirst for knowledge, but not when he’s been coached, probably purely for the hilarity gained from hearing Sammy utter such words in his high, sweet voice.
“Dean,” John growls and Dean freezes, one foot on the floor and one leg still on his chair, arms and torso already swung in the direction of his bedroom like his body is still trying to pull him away from the situation. At his name, snapped out with the thread of reprimand underneath, he pulls himself back onto his chair, back ram-rod straight and face tense.
John understands that swearing is a fact of life, will never be one of those parents that thinks a mouth rinsed out with soap will be cleaner of profanity. He also would rather that Sammy, still with only enough years to his life to merit one hand full of fingers, would’ve refrained for a little while longer.
Dean doesn’t try to deny his role in what is unfolding like most children would. He accepts he’s been caught out and is waiting patiently for his sentence. Sammy, still mostly unaware of having landed his brother well and truly in it, points an imperious finger at his stuffed monkey, sitting up on the table in front of him and says, “Go fuck yourself.”
Dean’s eyes go wide and round, horrified beyond belief. “I didn’t-!” he starts to protest but John just puts a hand up.
“Go to your room,” he snaps and Dean does, not even bothering to try to proclaim his innocence further. Sammy tugs the stuffed monkey off the table by a paw and follows his brother, looking confused when he’s met with a slammed door.
John, for his part, lowers his head into his hands and finally lets the shakes of a great belly laugh take him over. He remembers a phone call only two hours earlier, remembers that Sammy and Dean were supposed to be outside playing and how he’d uttered that exact phrase right before he’d hung up.