A/N: Requested by meet-me-onthe-equinox on tumblr as "Jack's first words."

I need this now more than ever, the writing thing. I hope you all enjoy this and can get a bit of escapism with me.

At this point, it's getting a little bit ridiculous. One time, just one time, April read that their one-year-old baby could be speaking by now and here they were. More specifically, April was in the kitchen trying to relax after work and Andy could not stop singing.

"My baby won't say a thing," Andy sang from the living room, Jack in his arms and moving about between a dance and playing airplane. "He's gonna sit there and laugh and be cute and never say a word."

April had to admit, sometimes she was a little worried about this as well but Andy took to the age range a little too seriously. Now he spent every waking minute that he could trying to coerce Jack into saying something. Normally, their son would get by with the usual babbles and half-words approaching a thought, but then he'd just giggle – like he was doing now in Andy's arms in the living room – and Andy would deflate entirely.

It's not that he hasn't caught her singing to the little pumpkin, but it's usually when she's dead tired so she can make excuses.

"Andy, maybe if you try not singing to him he'll say something," she shouted over the din in her head.

He nearly rushed in, Jack still slung in his arms. "Babe, could you get him to talk?"

"Jack?"

"Well, duh."

"Get him… Andy, when he's ready to talk he'll talk–"

"But you said that it should be between nine and fourteen months–!"

"Yes," April stopped in exasperation. "Between Andy! And that doesn't mean he won't wait until, like, eighteen months or something."

"But that's so long away! He's so smart already, he knows how to finish all the block puzzles before I do," Andy said loudly, and Jack not knowing what was particularly going on just looked between the two of them, confused.

"Andy–"

"You're right… well, maybe if you sing to him it'll work?" Andy tried.

A squeak interrupted them, but April paid no attention. "I don't sing to him–"

"Do too!"

"Never."

"I caught you last night, c'mon," Andy tried.

"Andy–!"

"Stop," a small voice interrupted their childish argument, if you could even call it that much.

April did just as little Jack said. She couldn't do much other then leave her mouth hanging open dumbly. When she tried to say so much as a word, Jack leaned forward a bit - still safe in Andy's hands - and put his palm up to her mouth and repeated, "Stop."

Jack moved away then sat back up in Andy's arms. Turning as best he could, he did the same to Andy.

They were speechless for another couple moments as their son kept repeating that word, almost proud of himself.

Andy nearly screamed when he finally spoke, and he couldn't stop kissing Jack, April, and yelling how proud he was and how amazing everything in the world was, is, and would be. April herself felt that burning smile refuse to leave even when they both tired themselves out later.