Dean presses the end of the ribbon to the white piece of sticky gum, hoping that, as promised on the package, it won't leave a mark on the wall. He only recently painted the living room fresh snowy white — he's not planning on doing that again for the next few years. Or, well, at least until the walls are covered with inevitable paw prints and crayon art.
He gives the ribbon a small tug to make sure it sticks properly and takes a few steps back to assess his work. With an even-enough arc, the banner looks fine, despite how offensive to his eyes the brightly colored, glitter-covered letters are. Or to the eyes of anyone older than ten, for that matter.
But it's kind of the point and there's only one person whom the big HAPPY BIRTHDAY JACK across the wall has to impress. Along with all the balloons Dean spent the last hour blowing (and in one instance blowing it up in his own face) attached to every shelf in the room, and the party hats and horns, waiting on the brightly made table.
"I think we did pretty good, huh, buddy?" he says, turning towards the kitchen door.
Miracle hasn't moved two steps away from the oven since the moment Dean turned it on and he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with the radiating heat and everything to do with the roast beef cooking inside. A dog after Dean's own heart.
Miracle tips his head with what Dean's gonna take for approval and move on.
He's in the middle of carrying the plates from the kitchen when the doorbell rings without proper warning. Freakin' electric cars, so unnervingly quiet even as they pull up to your driveway. It's simply not natural.
Dean promised himself not to start the topic again today, or else Sam's gonna try to convince him to take a test ride. Which no, thank you. What's the fun in driving a car if you can't feel it purr?
Dean opens the door to the two beaming faces of Sam and Eileen, and, around their knees, Jack bouncing impatiently, his arms wrapped around his favorite bear.
"Hey, champ, did you have fun with—?"
"Hi," Jack chirps, cutting Dean off, and runs past him into the house.
He must have not had time to miss Dean since this morning when Sam picked him up for an educational trip to the zoo.
"Was he good?" Dean turns to Sam and Eileen instead, like a concerned mommy. What the hell is single fatherhood turning Dean into?
"He did not like the fact that the animals were in the cages," Eileen says, to which Sam lets out a chuckle.
"I'm sure glad he doesn't have his powers or he'd burst those cages open," he adds.
Before Dean gets to respond, a surprised shriek comes from the living room. They find Jack with his face in his palms, twirling around and taking in the cheerful decorations.
"You like it?" Dean asks, trying not to puff up with pride.
The decorations really aren't much, since this isn't exactly a kid's party, with the only kid present being the birthday boy. It's a new town, new house — with windows this time because apparently, kids need more sunlight than the bunker could offer — and neither Jack nor Dean had time to make friends, yet.
They'll have plenty of time for that, though. This day they'll spend celebrating with their little family and it'll be just right.
"It's awesome!" Jack says exasperated, to Sam's chagrin. "You did all of it, Dean? I woke up and I was here playing with Miracle and there wasn't anything here, there were no balloons and no— that thing"—he points to the banner without even trying to come up with a word for it, then pauses. "What's it say?"
"It says Happy Birthday, Jack. It's your day."
Jack wiggles excitedly, shooting Dean a toothy grin. "I know!"
He runs off towards the table, grabs the party horn and blows into it, letting out a grating, high-pitched sound. It's followed by happy barking as Miracle struts into the room.
"Okay, I'm already regretting those," Dean mutters, pulling Jack up and sitting him in a chair. He puts the party hat on his head, occupying his attention enough to sneak the party horn out of his palm. "Who's ready for the cake?"
Dean might have bought out half of his favorite bakery (it's not like anything's gonna go to waste), the cake he made himself. Properly this time. He let the layers cool off properly before spreading the filling, resulting in something that looks like an actual cake, this time, not like the sad, sloppy thing his last cake turned into.
He lights up four candles on top of it and carries it back to the table to the chant of 'Cake! Cake! cake!", and Jack standing on his chair.
"Make a wish."
Jack gets a little pensive, for a moment reminding Dean of the grown man he was just a few months ago. He'd probably say something like that there's nothing left to wish for because he's got what he needs. The world is safe, so is his family. Life is good.
But he's a kid now, and kids don't get that philosophical. A big smile blooms on Jack's face and he leans closer to the cake; there are so many toys he could wish for, after all. And Dean hopes one of them is a big, remotely controlled muscle car model that Dean has wrapped for Jack in the closet.
Jack blows on the candles and blows them all out in a single take and claps his hands with joy.
"Good job!"
As Dean reaches for the cake to slice it, Jack turns to him and wraps his arms around his middle.
"Thank you, Dean. S'awesome!"
A soft, warm feeling fills Dean's chest. Who'd have thought this is how the two of them would end up? A civilian and his kid, a white picket fence, the best dog ever. A simple life.
"Sure thing. Happy Birthday, kid."