#jensenackles

Sunlight spilled across the backyard in warm golden streaks, catching against the white fencing surrounding your little suburban paradise. The grill sizzled loudly nearby as burgers cooked beneath Ben’s watchful eye, the smell of charcoal and summer filling the air.

It was disgustingly normal. And Ben fucking loved it.

No Vought. No missions. No cameras shoved in his face. No Homelander.

Just you, him, and the little boy currently sitting in your lap wearing dinosaur shorts and trying to shove his own fist into his mouth.

Ben glanced up from the grill for what had to be the hundredth time in ten minutes. You sat on the lounger beneath the shade umbrella, smiling softly as you bounced your son on your knee. Your laughter drifted across the yard every time he squealed.

Ben felt it low in his chest every damn time. That was his family.

His.

Sometimes the feeling still blindsided him. Soldier Boy. America’s biggest asshole. Retired suburban dad.

If someone had told him years ago that this would become his life, he probably would’ve punched them in the mouth.

But now?

Now he couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

His gaze softened as he watched you kiss the top of your son’s head. The kid had your eyes. Thank fuck. But the stubbornness? Yeah. That was all Ben.

"You’re makin’ him soft," Ben called over from the grill.

You looked up immediately, offended. "He’s one!"

"Exactly. Prime toughening-up age." Your son babbled loudly in agreement with absolutely nobody. Ben snorted to himself, flipping the burgers. God, he loved that kid. He loved how chubby his tiny hands were. Loved the way he waddled like a drunk old man whenever he tried walking. Loved hearing him laugh so hard he snorted.

Ben had spent most of his life believing he’d never be capable of loving someone properly. Then the little gremlin showed up and ruined him completely. Your son suddenly giggled harder as you made another silly sound at him, tiny shoulders shaking with excitement.

Then his nose scrunched. You froze dramatically. "Ohhh, big sneeze incoming?"

His tiny face screwed up further. Ben looked over his shoulder just in time to see— "Achoo!"

The second the sneeze escaped him, the baby launched twenty feet into the air. You screamed. Ben dropped the spatula instantly. "What the FUCK—"

Your son floated higher above the yard, giggling hysterically like being airborne was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

"BEN!"

"I SEE HIM!" Ben sprinted across the grass, arms already reaching upward as panic slammed into his chest. The kid tipped backward midair, tiny legs kicking uselessly. "Oh, shit—" Ben caught him against his chest a second before he hit the ground.

You stood frozen beside the lounger, staring wide-eyed at the baby now happily grabbing fistfuls of Ben’s beard.

Ben slowly lifted him away from his body, staring at him in disbelief.

The baby squealed proudly. Ben blinked once. Then a slow grin spread across his face. "Well," he breathed, "that’s my boy."

"Benjamin!"

"He FLEW."

Before you could stop him, Ben tossed the baby gently upward again. Your horrified gasp echoed across the yard. But instead of falling, your son hovered above Ben’s head, spinning lazily upside down while drool dripped onto his own forehead. Ben stared upward like he’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ. You fell back onto the lounger in shock and defeat.

"He has powers!" he barked excitedly. Then his expression shifted slightly. "…And none of those are mine."

You pointed a warning finger immediately. "Don’t even start."

Ben looked at you innocently. "I’m just sayin’. I don’t float."

"He is literally your clone."

"Well, at least we can keep track of him." Your son sneezed again. And vanished. You both froze.

"Oh no," you whispered.

Then suddenly— Pop.

He reappeared directly in your lap like nothing had happened.

You stared down at him in horror while he happily sucked on the collar of his shirt. "Oh God," you muttered weakly. "He can teleport."

"Doll, there’s one of him and two of us. We’ll be f—" Ben abruptly stopped speaking.

You blinked. Then blinked again. Because there were now two babies in your lap.

Silence consumed the backyard. Slowly, both you and Ben turned to stare at each other.

"…Did he just duplicate?" Ben asked faintly.

One of the babies sneezed. Now there were three.

"Okay!" you yelped. "Nobody say anything else!"

Ben looked genuinely offended. "How is this my fault?"

"Because every time you open your mouth he unlocks a new ability!"

One of the babies crawled up your lap, sucking on your hair. Another disappeared and reappeared underneath the patio table. The third was somehow halfway up the fence already.

Ben stared around the yard for a long moment. Then, to your horror, he started laughing. "Oh, we are SO fucked," he wheezed.

"BEN!"

"This is amazing!"

"You are literally encouraging him!"

"He duplicated himself!" Ben shouted, pointing wildly at the babies currently causing chaos across the backyard, running to gather the little clones.

You groaned into your hands.

A warm hand slid around your waist moments later as Ben sat beside you on the lounger, one baby balanced easily on each arm while the third gazed up at you with big puppy dog eyes. You still had absolutely no idea which one was the original. Ben leaned over, kissing the side of your head softly.

"We got this, doll," he murmured against your temple.

You sighed heavily, leaning against his shoulder despite yourself.

Yeah. Maybe you did.

Even if your son was apparently the most overpowered toddler on the planet. Ben looked down proudly at the babies climbing all over him. "Plus," he added smugly, "we knew this was gonna happen. Kid’s got America’s greatest supe for a dad." You rolled your eyes instantly. One of the babies copied you. "That one's yours," he grumbled under his breath.

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