Oh. Oh. Ah. Exactly what went through your head when you saw the condoms in yours and Dean’s seventeen year old’s backpack when you were clearing out the clutter in it that you knew built up. You just didn’t expect to find the packet written on with ‘ribbed for her pleasure’— that almost made you get a heart attack, oh, holy shit.

Lucky that Dean was there.

So here comes the awkward talk with your daughter about being safe during the deed — yes, they had condoms, they were being safe — but was birth control involved? Well, to be completely honest, you and Dean weren’t 100% clean, you still did it every opportunity you got— not the time.

Well, he was freaking out. He’d had the talk, you’d taken the lead — you were the boss — but it had ended with a lot of awkwardness— fuck, you and Dean could dirty talk each other while brushing your teeth and this simple thing was that difficult? It made the both of you question everything.

“We handled that a’ight.” The safety of your bedroom was good. Getting ready for bed was good. But he was still reeling from the very awkward talk— why did he say what he did? He smiled, standing there in his boxers, changing into sweats.

“M’sure we did.” Maybe. Maybe you handled that alright, he’d never know, but by the exclamations and the awkward cringes, probably not. He couldn’t handle teenagers, Sammy pretty much learnt the sex game by himself— honestly, that was the best that it could’ve gone, right? Right? Yeah. No.