A/N: Here is another chapter in my 'Daddies' series. Because of Sebastian's swearing and it's effect on their adopted son, Thomas, Kurt is forced to take drastic measures. Warnings for swearing, symptoms of anxiety in a child, and insinuations of sex.
"Stupid, Goddamned, son-of-a…" Sebastian grumbles, tapping his forehead with his fingers, not even trying to calm down.
Plink, plink, plink.
"Sebastian…" Kurt warns, taking over as the voice of calm.
"Why do I even try?" Sebastian mutters on, ignoring Kurt, pacing back and forth on the kitchen linoleum in a tight circle. "No matter what I say, he still makes stupid fucking decisions…"
Plink.
"Sebastian!"
"I'm sorry, Kurt!" Sebastian apologizes, not stopping his stride, with Thomas hot on his heels. He hoists a Mason jar in the air, preparing for his father's next curse word. "But this is the last and final fuc—frickin' straw!"
Sebastian thought he had caught himself in time, but a tiny shake of the head from Kurt proves him wrong. Sebastian digs into his pocket, pulls out a shiny coin, and drops it into the Mason jar, transforming a new string of curses into something a little more creative so as not to go completely broke.
Cursing had never been a problem in the Hummel-Smythe household until recently, when Sebastian teamed up with some of his old Dalton buddies to start flipping investment properties. It was a hobby for fun and profit…that was the pitch Sebastian had used to get Kurt to agree. Everybody in the group brought something to the table – Wes has a particular expertise in finding just the right properties (an interesting skill for a pediatrician, but nevertheless…), David is a contractor with his own company, Thad's brother is a painter with an amazing eye for custom colors (and with two new mouths to feed, always grateful for the work), and Trent is a crack real estate agent. Using Kurt's exquisite designer's eye, they have managed to make quite a bit of money already.
The only revolving door in their 'flip crew' is their electrician. Every one David hires ends up abandoning the project halfway through. It's the bizarre Bermuda Triangle in their venture, and the source of Sebastian's more colorful vocabulary as of late. Of course, Sebastian's normal vernacular was never exactly G-rated. Kurt is lucky if he can keep Sebastian anywhere below NC-17, but usually Sebastian is pretty good about not dropping the F-bomb in front of Thomas.
They were in the middle of completing their fifteenth house, and another electrician had gone AWOL when it seemed like suddenly all the rules were washed right down the drain. It didn't bother Kurt too much; he would simply usher Thomas out of the room until Sebastian's fit was finished.
Then Kurt got a call from Thomas's school. Thomas had messed up an art project – a macaroni portrait of Abraham Lincoln – and he had a mini F-bomb of his own. From that afternoon on, Kurt decided drastic measures had to be taken.
Hence, the swear jar. For every swear word that slipped, the guilty family member had to pony up a coin. Thomas's fine was a nickel from his own allowance. Kurt's was a dime. Since Sebastian seemed to be the worst offender, his fine was a quarter.
Of course, contentions had been made for specific circumstances, because there were times when cursing just couldn't be avoided. It had been agreed that if a metal safe dropped on someone's foot that they would be allowed to curse while they dealt with the pain. Sebastian mentioned to Kurt , in private, that Kurt tends to have quite a foul mouth on him during sex, but Kurt said that fell under the umbrella of contentions as unavoidable, and since it doesn't happen in front of Thomas, it doesn't count toward the total.
At the end of each week, the money in the jar is sorted and counted. If Thomas has contributed the most coins, he has to do extra chores or has a privilege taken away. If it's Kurt, he has to make Thomas's favorite peanut butter cup cheesecake. If Sebastian curses the most, he has to take the family out for pizza and ice-cream.
By the weight of Thomas's little jar, evident by the strain in his shaking arms as he hefts the jar up onto his chest, Sebastian is going to be taking the lot of them out for pizza and ice-cream for sure.
"Sebastian," Kurt says, trying to sound reasonable, "try and calm down, and we can discuss this."
"I'm fucking through discussing this, Kurt!" Sebastian growls.
Plink.
"Sebastian…" Kurt goes for stern this time, "I don't like you using that language in front of Thomas. We talked about this."
"What?" Sebastian looks at Kurt, thoroughly confused. "I'm following the rules. I'm paying the fucking jar, aren't I, Tom-Tom?"
Plink.
"Yes," Thomas says with a grin, repositioning the jar so it doesn't fall, skittering behind his father to keep up.
"No," Kurt argues, "you're abusing the jar. The jar is supposed to teach Thomas not to curse, not to introduce him to the concept of loopholes."
"What loophole?" Sebastian grimaces at Kurt, making air-quotes with his fingers to emphasize his point.
"The loophole that you can say whatever the hell you want as long as you pay the jar!"
Thomas turns to Kurt and frowns.
Kurt rolls his eyes and digs a dime out of his pocket.
Plink.
"Well, I need to vent, so this is me VENTING!" Sebastian says through gritted teeth, so close to exploding that Kurt can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Even Thomas's smile slips, and Hepburn, his labradoodle puppy, winds between the little boy's legs to keep him from getting too upset. "And when I VENT, I SWEAR!"
Kurt stands from his stool and approaches his husband, pushing Thomas behind his body gently with a hand to the boy's shoulder.
"Sebastian…" Kurt's voice is soft, lulling, "I don't think you understand…"
"You don't understand, Kurt!" Sebastian roars. "This is serious!"
Sebastian looks from Kurt's face, to Thomas's face, the boy huddling behind his father's legs, hugging the swear jar to his chest, while his loyal labradoodle puppy stands guard at his feet.
"Jes—" Sebastian cuts himself short, patting down his pockets, sullen and annoyed. He turns away from his husband and son without a word and heads for the door.
"Sebastian? Honey?"
Kurt doesn't move with Thomas attached tightly to his legs, but from where they stand in the kitchen, stunned, they can hear Sebastian climb into his Mustang and slam the car door.
Father and son are silent in the wake of an absent Sebastian.
"Papa?" Thomas's meek voice squeaks from his hiding place. "Papa? Where is daddy going?"
"I…I don't know, Thomas," Kurt says, looking down at the little boy. Wide, watery eyes stare back up at him.
"Is he…is he going to come back?" the boy asks, his voice wavering slightly.
"Oh, Thomas," Kurt coos, mussing the boy's hair, "of course he will…"
Eventually, Kurt thinks with dismay, but of this he can be completely certain.
Sebastian would never leave them.
That doesn't mean he might not do something completely stupid and reckless in the meantime.
The sound of the car door slamming and the house door opening again startles the pair, who stare back at each other for the briefest second before Sebastian storms in again, his left hand tucked slightly behind his back. He looks at Kurt, then at Thomas, and sighs. He kneels down, coming eye to eye with the boy. Sebastian pets Hepburn first, letting the dog know that everything is okay. Sebastian grabs the full Mason jar around the middle, pulls it carefully out of Thomas's hands, and sets it down on the kitchen table. From behind his back, he produces an empty Mason jar and puts it in Thomas's hands. Then he reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls out a roll of quarters – a survivor of the prior week's midnight arcade-a-palooza adventure that Kurt wasn't all too thrilled about until he beat Sebastian at air hockey three times in a row. He shows the roll to Thomas, whose eyes go wide, envisioning the tirade his father is preparing if he plans to use up all those quarters. Instead, Sebastian opens the end of the paper cylinder and dumps the whole roll into the jar with a loud crash of metal against glass.
"Why don't we just assume that everything I was going to say for the next ten minutes was full of cursing, and skip to the end."
"What happens at the end?" Thomas asks, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips, his body relaxing into the crook of Kurt's knee.
"Well, I apologize for abusing the power of the swear jar," Sebastian says, leaning in close and touching noses with his son, a slow smile burning on the boy's face, while Kurt gazes down at the two and shakes his head. "And then…PIZZA AND ICE-CREAM!"
Sebastian grabs Thomas out from behind his husband's legs and tickles him until the previously anxious boy dissolves into a pile of snorts and giggles.
"Stop!" he chokes out between laughs, "I can't…breathe…"
"If you can talk, you can breathe," Sebastian says, tickling the boy mercilessly for a moment longer. He picks him up and sets him on his feet. "Now, why don't you go get Hepburn's vest and we'll head out?"
Thomas's eyes light up at the mention of Hepburn's vest, pleased and proud that the labradoodle had finally finished training and earned full service dog status in the form of a bright red vest.
Sebastian stands and Kurt loops his arms around his husband's neck.
"Did I do good?" Sebastian asks, kissing Kurt slowly around his mouth, down his chin, along his jaw, up to his ear.
"Well, you haven't exactly apologized to me yet," Kurt says.
"I thought maybe I could apologize to you later…" Sebastian sucks Kurt's earlobe into his mouth and nibbles gentle.
"Mmm,"Kurt hums, "and how do you intend on doing that?"
"I thought maybe, after the munchkin's asleep, I could try to get you to fill up the swear jar." Sebastian tilts his head, his lips curling into that cocky grin that Kurt finds way too enticing.
"But we agreed that anything that happens in the bedroom doesn't count," Kurt reminds him, "especially if Thomas doesn't hear."
"What if we manage to wake him up?" Sebastian smirks, licking the shell of Kurt's ear.
"Then we'd better stop spending the swear jar money on pizza and ice-cream and start saving it."
Sebastian pulls away from Kurt and looks into his amused blue eyes.
"For what?" Sebastian asks, intrigued.
"For therapy," Kurt laughs, "because if he walks in on us doing the things that make me swear, then he's going to need it."