Sylus overhears it in passing.
He's on his way home from work, making a brief stop at the grocery store. He recalls your absentminded request this morning, your eyes and head still filled with sleep.
"Wan cookies..." you had grumbled into his back and Sylus prides himself on being attentive.
Especially when it pertains to you.
He's walking through the aisle with your favourite brand of cookies and passes by two young women. He doesn't notice how their gazes turn lustful and trail after him but does catch a word that floats its way over.
The word rolls its way around Sylus' mind as he pays for the cookies—and a few more of your favourite snacks—and doesn't leave him alone even on his drive home. He considers searching it up online but gets distracted the moment you're in his sights.
All thoughts of DILF fly out the window when your lips capture his and he promptly melts.
It doesn't a comeback until it's evening and dinner has been eating. He's busy washing the dishes while you dry them, innocent chatter flowing between you two. You ask him about work and he tells you it went fine as always, always leaving out the too bloody parts. He asks you the same and listens, intrigued, as you complain about a co-worker.
You're halfway through telling him about what Nicole said when the word pops into his mind.
"Sweetie," Sylus says. "Sorry for interrupting you but there's been something on my mind."
You blink. "Oh? What's wrong?" You ask then give him a once over. "Are you hurt? Should I get the first aid kit?"
"No, I'm fine," he assures you with a tender smile. "I just heard something today when I was at the grocery store. Heard it when I passed these young women and they said something."
"That doesn't surprise me," you say, eyeing him teasingly. "I mean, have you seen yourself? You're a prime DILF, honey."
Sylus halts in rinsing his current dish.
"It's that word," he says, brows furrowed. "The DILF word. They said the exact same thing when I walked past but I couldn't make heads or tails of it." He looks at you, curious. "What does it mean?"
You stare at him, wide-eyed.
You stare at him for a good minute or so.
Then you're snorting loudly, eyes closing as you set down the tea towel you were using to dry the dishes. Your lips are pursed together tightly, the corners quivering with withheld laughter. You chance a look at Sylus before shaking your head and taking off to the living room.
Sylus stares at where you once were, puzzled beyond belief.
He turns off the tap to follow you.
"Sweetie?" He calls out, only to find you on the couch and laughing into a throw cushion. "Sweetie? What's so funny?"
You lift up a hand, signalling him to give you a moment, before looking at him. Your eyes are watery from laughing too much and your mouth is spread into a wide smile.
"Sy, baby," you say around shaky breaths. "My love, DILF isn't a word. It's an acronym."
"...Okay?" Sylus says, a brow raised. "I still don't know what it means. And it seems my loving wife is having too much fun keeping it from me."
"It's so hilarious," you admit, letting out a few more pearls of laughter. "But I'll tell you because I love you and you need to know this for future reference."
"...I love you too and sure."
"Okay," you say, taking a deep breath around still bubbling laughter. "Baby, DILF means dad I'd like to fuck."
You stare at him, biting your bottom lip hard.
There's a long draw of silence.
Then, as innocently as a 6'4" broad man capable of murder can, Sylus says:
Your screaming laughter sounds throughout the neighbourhood.
