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Dean woke up to noise. He wasn't little last night, going to bed in his own room. It had been a week and clearly he was at his big boy limit.
Which brings us to now. Dean was woken up by the loud, consistent screeching of Jack, who was sounding as unhappy as Dean felt right now.
He sat himself up and couldn't bring himself to call for someone. He found his binky and shoved it in his mouth, standing on shaky feet. His bladder twinged but he was too fuzzy to care, padding his way towards the noise - which was coming from the kitchen.
He peered around the corner, eyes wide. Jack was laying on the floor underneath the kitchen table at Cas's feet, screaming, as Sam cooked at the stove.
“Good morning,” Castiel spoke, looking up, “Ah,” He started, a smile breaking out on his face as he took Dean in, “Feeling little, hm?”
Sam turned her head then, opening one arm, “Good morning, baby. Did you sleep well?”
Dean was overwhelmed. Jack was being so loud. He hadn't yet acknowledged his baby brother.
He looked over at his mommy, head tilted and concerned.
“Jack's throwing a tantrum, sweet pea.” She explained, “Do you need daddy to come and sit with you in the library? Is he too loud?”
Dean shook his head and lowered himself to his knees, crawling under the table too. He sat back on his calves, touching Jack's shoulder lightly.
“Ja'?” He slurred around his binky, lying on the floor by his brother. Jack quieted down and turned his head towards him,
“Oh,” He sniffled, “Hi, Dee. Daddy is being mean to me.”
Dean made a little noise of acknowledgement which gave Jack the go ahead to continue, “He - he said I couldn't have ice cream,” He explained, “I don't want eggs. What mommy is making.”
He wasn't crying anymore so Dean was happy.
“Are you ‘kay?” Jack asked then, “Hung'y?”
“Mmm,” Dean hummed, sitting back up and crawling back out.
“Hi buddy,” Castiel said, standing from his chair and leaning down to pick him up, “I heard Jack talking about how mean I am, hm?”
Dean nodded and lifted his arms up, Castiel scooping him up and settling him on his hip.
Unfortunately for them both the jostling was just enough pressure on Dean's bladder. He soaked them both, tensing in Cas's arms - tears welled in his eyes, looking down and trying to wiggle away from his daddy.
“Oh dear,” Cas smiled, “Don't cry, angel. It was just an accident.” He soothed, prompting Sam to look over,
“Oh buddy,” She sighed, “It's okay. Daddy will go and get you cleaned up, hm?” She directed her eyes at Cas, “We need to be on top of diapering our little man, Cas.”
“Definitely,” He agreed, “Jack, behave.” He warned to which the little boy scrambled, “No, daddy, am comin’,” He rushed, “Dee needs me!”
“Oh yes he does, doesn't he?” Castiel replied, “Best come along, then.”
Dean let out an almost giggle, blinking away his tears.
After Dean was cleaned up they made their way back to the kitchen where Sam had finished making lunch and mopped up the puddle. The table was made, four plates of eggs and toast. Dean's was cut up into tiny bite size pieces, Jack's cut into triangles.
Dean went straight in with his fingers and Jack continued to whine in his seat.
“See, Jack? Dean is eating his breakfast nicely, like a good boy.” Sam started, “And he's a baby! How is the baby better behaved than you, hm? My big boy?”
That was enough ammo and Jack dug in himself, still upset but not clearly willing to be bested by his baby brother. Dean was just happy to be eating. He grinned around his fist, full of slightly mushy eggs, humming to himself.
After breakfast daddy wiped him clean and picked him up, again, as mommy got Jack out of his chair and wiped the crumbs off him too. He was much happier now, grinning and bouncing.
“Are you still hungry?” Mommy asked, resting her head on Castiel’s shoulder. Dean’s food was on a portioned Cars plate and, while she wishes Dean truly was her little baby, he did still need to eat like a grown man.
Dean nodded a little, smiling behind his binky.
“Bottle?” She offered, turning to make it before he’d even replied. Dean’s milk was special: he had formula. Mommy had told him just how special and important it was. In reality he just had protein powder added to his milk but that was irrelevant to the baby.
Daddy took the bottle once it was prepared, heading to the library - they always had calm down story time the mornings that Dee was little too. He would get overwhelmed quickly otherwise.
Jack, as always, cuddled up on mommy’s lap and waited patiently for her to unbutton her shirt and unclasp her bra. Dean, as always, stared while he lazily suckled at his bottle. He didn’t really know why Jack being fed always made him feel so sad inside. They both have their special milk; it’s fine.
He doesn’t know why he can’t tear his eyes away from them, either.
Daddy is reading the story, using silly voices and waiting for Jack to engage - Dean doesn’t react to much of anything when he’s in his baby space. Especially not when there’s milk on the go-round. He does, however, whine when Castiel jostles him while flipping the page and knocks his bottle out of his mouth.
“What, baby?” Jack suddenly interrupts, unlatching from Sam with a hum, “Daddy dropped your bottle?”
Castiel apologised and everything was made right again - but Jack kept staring.
“Mommy, Dee is sad.” He announces, this time fully sliding off Sam’s lap.
“What’s wrong, cherub?” Daddy asked, setting the book down and running a hand over Dean’s stomach, “Are you full? Need a change?” He whined, “No? What about a nap, hm?”
Jack moved his head into Dean’s view, then, pulling his bottle from his lips.
“Jack!” Mommy scolded, having clasped her bra closed and done up one button on her shirt - Jack wasn’t yet done.
“No, mommy,” Jack sighed, “Dee doesn’t want a bottle.” He said, like his parents were stupid, “Do you, Dee?” He kissed his little brothers nose, “Dee wants mommy. Like Jack.”
Dean felt his blood run cold, now much more alert than he was previously - but still too fuzzy to do anything about it. All he could do was hope to slip deeper than before and beg the non existent gods to make Sam and Cas ignore Jack - chalk it up to the ramblings of a toddler.
Unfortunately neither of those things happened. Dean remained uncomfortably aware and Sam prompted Jack to keep explaining.
“What do you mean, sweetness?”
“Dee wants milk like Jack,” He repeats again, “Baby Dee is gonna cry, momma,” Jack warned, and just like that the tears were streaming down his face, a single sob breaking through his quiet baby exterior. Even when he cried while little he was quiet - silent tears and the occasional sniffle,
Dean felt Cas start to rock him instantly, offering him his binky and his bottle. He turned his nose up to both, curling further into his daddy. At least he’s slipping again.
He feels daddy lift him and his breaths become more erratic then - they’re going to call him gross and a freak and tell him how much they hate him. Dean will be asked to leave and never come back and then he’ll be all on his own - on his own and little and he gags on a cough, because he knows he could never ever survive without being little ever again, and - and, and, and!
He felt his mommy, then, combing her hands through his hair. He’s in her lap in an instant, eyes still screwed shut and grabbing onto her so hard that no one could ever pry him off.
“Baby?” She whispers but Dean barely hears her, too focussed on trying to stay quiet - quiet and small, cuddled into his mommy. Not an issue, not a problem.
“Dee,” Jack sing-songed, “No one is angry, ‘kay? Wake up so mommy ca’ feed you.” He, again, spoke with an air of disinterest. That helped, Dean realised. If Jack was fine he would be too, right?
“Hi sweetheart,” She whispered the second Dean opened his eyes, “I’m sorry that you got upset, my little dove.” She had tears in her eyes, too, and Dean felt all kinds of guilty.
“Do you want milk, hm?” She offered, then, “You can have your bottle or… or me, Deanie. Jack can share, can’t you, my big boy?” Jack was sitting to her left, perched on the armrest of the chair, poised above Dean’s curled feet.
“Yeah, Dee, cus if I didn’ wanna share I wouldn’a told mommy that you want milk.”
That did make a lot of sense. Still, he wasn’t sure this wasn’t some sort of joke, or prank, or maybe some evil dream that Sam would be disgusted with.
Jack sighed. He loves his baby brother - really, honestly loves him - but he is only small himself. Small and impatient.
He leans over his brothers body and for a second his parents thought he was going to kiss Dean’s head, reassure him - but instead Sam felt the buttons of her shirt fall, thread disintegrating, and cold little fingers unclip the cup of her bra.
“Milk, Dee,” He huffed, “Hurry up.”
Sam laughed and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the shock or because of how cute he was being.
“You’re so impatient, Jack.” Castiel sighed, smiling to Sam over their boys heads.
Dean was still frozen in place. Sam’s - mommy’s - breast was inches from his face. He was ten seconds from milk and yet he couldn’t make himself move.
Jack moved, again, putting his hand on the back of Dean’s head and forcing him forward, smashing his face into Sam’s breast. Before Sam could chide him Dean took his chance, latching with full go ahead, letting instinct flood his brain. He pressed her nipple to the roof of his mouth and sucked down hard. Milk filled his mouth and he could have cried with the relief he felt, deep, sinking into his soul.
“Slowly, baby, you don’t need to rush,” Sam soothed, carding her hand through his hair. After a few minutes she looked back up to Jack, sitting patiently and watching his baby brother drink.
“Do you want to try something, baby?” She offered, Jack nodding, “Come here,” She unclipped her other cup, and Jack sat half on Dean’s lap and half wedged between Sam and the couch, “Go on,”
Jack latched with practised expertise, humming and finding Dean’s hand to hold. Sam felt tears dripping down her cheeks and she didn’t even know why she’s crying, but then Castiel was leaning down and wiping her cheeks, pressing a kiss to her lips, eyes closed and smiling.
“We’re so good.” She sighed.
Castiel smiled at her, again, “We are.”