𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕟; 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦

166 0 0

by Olivia_Winston_Banks

by Olivia_Winston_Banks

He said i've been watching you dad, ain't that cool
I'm your buckaroo, I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are
We got cowboy boots and camo pants
Yeah we're just alike, hey ain't we dad
I wanna do everything you do
So i've been watching you

The sun dipped low on the horizon as Dean and his son Blake cruised down the open highway. Blake, a bundle of energy in the backseat, cradled his Happy Meal with a child's delight. His laughter echoed through the car, a rare moment of pure joy for both father and son.

Dean stole a glance in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling with affection. "Having fun back there, buddy?"

Blake nodded vigorously, bits of fries tumbling onto his lap. "Yeah, Daddy! This is awesome!"

Dean chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the hum of the engine. They were headed home after a long day at the zoo, Blake's favorite place. The evening promised a quiet routine—dinner, baths, bedtime stories.

Ahead, brake lights flared red, signaling a sudden slowdown. Dean's reflexes kicked in, his foot instinctively slamming on the brakes. Blake's orange drink, held aloft in glee, became a projectile, splashing its contents across his lap.

"Shit!" Blake exclaimed, his voice a mix of surprise and innocence.

Dean winced, his heart sinking at the unintended lesson. He pulled over to the side of the road, turning in his seat to face Blake. "Blake Portman, where did you hear that word?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Blake's eyes widened, realization dawning. "From you, Daddy," he replied, his tone innocent yet matter-of-fact. "Remember that guy who cut you off last week?"

Dean sighed, guilt gnawing at him. "I'm sorry, buddy. That's not a word you should use."

"Why, Daddy?" Blake asked, confusion etching his features.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Well, it's not a nice word. It's something that... well, adults sometimes say when they're upset or angry. But it's not polite, especially for kids."

Blake frowned, still not quite understanding. "But you said it, Daddy. Why can't I?"

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of fatherhood in that moment. "I know, Blake. And I shouldn't have said it either. It's just... there are better words to use, buddy. Words that don't make people feel bad or upset."

Blake nodded slowly, his brow furrowing in thought. "Okay, Daddy. I won't say it again."

Dean smiled softly, relieved that Blake seemed to grasp the lesson. "Thanks, buddy. I know you'll make the right choice."

Back home, after a quick dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, Dean helped Blake with his bath. Bubbles floated in the air as Blake splashed around, his laughter echoing off the tiled walls.

"Daddy, can we read 'Goodnight Moon' tonight?" Blake asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Of course, buddy," Dean replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "You pick out your favorite blanket while I get the book."

Later that evening, as Dean walked past Blake's room, he heard soft murmurs. Curious, he pushed the door open slightly and peeked inside. Blake was kneeling beside his bed, his small hands folded in prayer.

"...Thank you for today, and for my daddy," Blake whispered, his voice barely audible.

Dean's heart swelled with emotion as he listened to Blake's earnest words. He stepped into the room, his presence unnoticed by Blake. "Where did you learn to pray like that, buddy?" Dean asked softly, his voice catching in his throat.

Blake looked up, his eyes bright with innocence. "From you, Daddy," he replied, a small smile gracing his lips.

Tears pricked at Dean's eyes as he knelt beside Blake, gathering him into a warm embrace. "I'm proud of you, Blake. More than you know."

Blake hugged him back tightly, the worries of earlier fading into the background. "Can I sleep in your room tonight, Daddy?" Blake asked timidly, looking up with hopeful eyes.

Dean smiled, his heart melting. "Of course, buddy."

They settled into Dean's bed, the night draped in silence. Blake curled up against Dean, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of his father's chest.

"I love you, Daddy," Blake whispered, his voice barely a breath.

"I love you too, buddy," Dean murmured back, his hand gently stroking Blake's hair.