"Come on, Sammy," Dean grinned, wiggling his fingers as his baby brother toddled towards him, "You can do it, come on." Dean blew dishwater blond bangs out of his face as he kept his eyes trained on baby Sammy, less than a year old and already taking his first steps. Dean couldn't be a prouder older brother.
Sammy had pulled himself up using the couch, but now he'd run out of couch to hold onto and reached an arm out for Dean.
"D-d-d," Sammy babbled, "D-ad."
Dean's instant features of excitement diminished into a frown, and then a scowl, as he grabbed Sam, who had fallen into his arms, holding him under them, "No, Sammy, I'm Dean. Dean."
"Dad," Sammy said again with a smile, one of his tiny hands grabbing Dean's nose, "Dad."
Dean sat Sam down in front of him, "Sammy, I'm Dean. Deeeaaannnn. Can you say Dean?" he crossed his arms.
"DAD!" Sammy said louder, laughing, before clapping his tiny hands together. He reached his arms out for Dean to pick him up, pouting.
"Aw, Sammy that's not fair, not the face…" Dean frowned.
"DAAAAAAAAD!" Sammy cried, tearing up.
"Shh...shh…" Dean said, his eyes widening, as he pulled little Sammy into his arms, smoothing back dark brown curls, "Okay, okay, I'll be dad. I'll be anybody for you, Sammy, I've got you." He began bouncing Sam to try to soothe him.
"You got him, Dean?" Bobby asked, from the kitchen, coming to check on Sammy.
"I got him, Uncle Bobby," Dean smiled, turning around, "Hey, look what he can do! Can you show Uncle Bobby, Sammy? Show him!" Dean stood up, plucking Sam up and leaving him balancing on the edge of the couch, "C'mere, Sammy." Dean wiggled his fingers for Sam again.
Sammy fumbled over, arms out, reaching for Dean, until he stumbled into Dean's arms.
"Dad!" Sammy said excitedly, grabbing Dean's nose again.
"He took his first steps and said his first word?" Bobby asked, "Well, I'll be damned. And you taught him how. Good job, son."
Dean scrunched up his nose, wiggling Sammy around a little in his arms to sate him, "I keep telling him I'm Dean." He frowned.
"Well, seems like to him you're dad. You should be proud, Dean. He'll learn to say it eventually." Damn near raising him yourself at five years old...
"But dad is dad," Dean said, "He won't like it." Dean explained, carrying Sam into the kitchen, "I think he's hungry again. I heard his belly growl." He sat Sam on the floor before pulling his high chair out from by the fridge. "Are there any more Lucky Charms, Uncle Bobby? He really likes those."
Bobby picked Sam up, sitting him in the high chair and handing the box of Lucky Charms to Dean. "Don't give him too much. Dinner's not too far away."
"Look, Sammy, they're your favorite." Dean dumped what was obviously too much onto the tray, for Sam. "Hearts, Stars and Horseshoes, Clovers and Blue Moons-" he grinned, tickling Sam, before shoving a handful of the cereal in his own mouth.
"So what do you say after Sammy's done snacking me and you go throw the football around for a bit, huh, Dean?"
It's sad really, Bobby thought to himself, Little Dean's always going to be his daddy. He's not really going to have much of a childhood of his own. He'll always be taking care of his little brother. We'll make the best of it. They deserve that. They both do.