Note: This is essentially going to be a collection of one-shots about Winchester shopping trips, that will take place at different times. I already know what most of them will be about, lots of hurt/comfort and fluff ;) Hope you enjoy!
Mary knew this was a bad idea.
Shopping was enough work without bringing two kids along.
She should have waited until John got home, which she would have done if that man ever got his ass in the front door before sunset. All week she tried to get to the store, but by the time her workaholic husband came home, it was time to put the kids to bed, and Mary couldn't bear to leave her boys at night. She knew that John would protect them, she knew he would give his life for each of them in a second, but there were some things he didn't know how to protect them from. There were some things - the things that went bump in the night - that only she could protect her boys from, all three of them.
So, Mary bit the bullet and brought her two boys out shopping with her right after naptime. She loved her sons, but the trip was no picnic. Her four-year-old kept running ahead and refused to stand still even for a moment; while little Sammy was fussing and crying. Her baby was born with a sweet nature and was anything but difficult, but the poor thing had an ear infection, which had kept him up most of the night and disrupted the majority of his naptime.
"Dean! Honey, please hold onto the cart." Mary instructed, bouncing the five-month-old fussing in her arms, as she maneuvered the cart through the aisles, all the while trying to keep an eye on her wandering toddler.
"But, Mom—
"Don't you 'but, Mom' me, young man. You put your hand on the cart right now."
Even after her stern command, Mary couldn't help but quirk a smile at the long suffering sigh her four-year-old released. Dean was always making her smile, even when he wasn't trying to. The young boy did as he was told, just as his mother knew he would. He was a little jokester, and that smile of his was mischievous, but even at his young age, Dean was almost always obedient.
"It's Batman." He declared, his bright green eyes shining up at her as he pointed toward the shirt he had spotted.
"Yes, sweetheart, I see it."
"Can I try in on, Mommy? Please?" Dean begged.
"We are supposed to be shopping for Sam, you have enough clothes."
It was true. The kid had plenty of shirts, he certainly didn't need another one, but the look he gave her, it was too damn much. Those pleading eyes and the round, hopeful, freckled face; there was no way in hell Mary could say no, not even if she wanted to.
"Fine, you can try it on, but that means you have to try on some pants for me too. No complaining." Mary bargained, as she released the cart long enough to reach out and pull the size five shirt off its hanger. Damn, the kid was growing like a weed.
"Okay!" Dean agreed, reaching out for his prize with a wide grin.
"Leave it in the cart, please. I don't want it getting lost." Mary advised, knowing how her son would react if the shirt was misplaced; and the young mother only had the patience for one crying child at a time.
"Fine." The four-year old whined, allowing the Batman clothing to be tossed into the cart.
"Shh, it's okay, Sammy. You're alright, sweetheart." She cooed, bouncing the child on her hip.
Her heart broke for the poor kid. He wasn't even half a year old yet and he seemed to always have some sort of ailment. The doctors said that was common with preemies, especially ones that came two months ahead of schedule.
God, she had been so scared. She had been so afraid when she started having contractions, calling John at work in pure panic, because it was too soon. Way too fucking soon. John had been so calm and so strong. He had rushed home, loading her and Dean into the Impala with a firm, comforting grip. Mary had never needed her husband's strength more than she did that day. She had been so damn terrified of losing her baby, but John had soothed her fear with just his presence.
Mary smiled to herself as she thought of her small family, and how much she loved them. Her lips fell into a frown as Sam's head dropped onto her shoulder, and the child whimpered miserably. It was so unfair, he was such a good little boy, so soft and gentle. Even in his misery, he was still so sweet. He didn't scream, he fussed, but even that was done quietly. He was in pain and so sick, but his crying was still so soft, more like muted whimpers. He was so incredibly good-natured and precious, and yet the poor boy was always suffering.
She felt like, for some reason, the world had it in for her youngest child, and that didn't sit well with her.
Mary's heart broke for her little Sammy.
"Mommy, I think Sam needs me now."
And Dean's heart broke for his little brother as well.
Mary could see as much when her oldest looked up at her with those beseeching eyes, his arms up and reaching for his little brother. Because if anyone hated Sam's distress more than Mary did, it was Dean.
As silent as the child's anguish was, his older brother was never okay with it. Dean found it entirely unacceptable that Sam was ever upset. It was a fortunate thing that, Mary's youngest had such a peaceful disposition, because if he had been one of those vocal babies, Dean would have started a riot.
"Mom." Her eldest urged impatiently, his arms still reaching.
"Okay, honey, but you need to sit in the cart if you are going to hold Sam."
Dean hated sitting in the cart, he had never liked being confined. He was too active for that, which was why it was such a struggle for Mary to make sure the kid at least held onto her hand or the cart when they went out. However, it didn't surprise the young mother in the least, when her little adventurer immediately turned toward the cart and grabbed on to it. Dean was more than willing to submit to the confines of the cart, if it was for his little brother's sake.
Mary reached down and helped the four-year-old up into the buggy, being sure he was seated on his bum, before placing Sam in his arms.
"Shh. It's okay, Sammy. I gotcha." Dean soothed, effectively hushing the baby.
Mary would be lying if she didn't admit to the fact that - on occasion - she was a little bit jealous of her eldest son, as crazy as that seemed. Dean had a way with Sam, a way that neither of the baby's parents possessed, a way that hadn't be taught or learned, it was just natural.
It was special.
Mary pushed the cart through the store, collecting items, and listening to Dean chatting a way to his baby brother. There was not one person her four-year-old enjoyed talking to, more than Sammy.
She placed a couple pairs of jeans in the cart, next to her boys.
"I thought we were just getting clothes for Sammy?" Dean questioned, looking up at Mary as a pair of tiny hands grabbed at his finger.
"We are. But I'm getting you some more pants. You go through pants faster than Sam goes through diapers." Mary commented, laughing at the way Dean's face screwed up at the mention of those smelly objects, the ones he did his best to avoid. Like father, like son.
It was true though, the rambunctious little boy was always getting rips and stains in his jeans.
"How about that one, for Sammy?" Dean suggested, pointing to a shirt with a dog on it.
"That one isn't going to work, honey."
"Why not? Sammy loves puppies!"
That was also true, the five-month-old had squealed in delight when he had first spotted their neighbour's dog.
"It's too big. That is for six to nine months. Sam is zero to three months."
"But he's five months old, Mom." Dean said gently, as though he were concerned Mary had forgotten just how old her youngest was.
She was surprised that Dean knew Sam's specific age, but she probably shouldn't have been. Her eldest knew everything about his little brother. Everything from his nap schedule, to his favorite toys.
"I know, sweetheart. But Sam's small for his age."
Dean huffed, he clearly wasn't happy about that fact.
"You need to eat more food, Sammy. Then you can get bigger like me and you won't be so tiny." The older boy stated in all seriousness, looking down at the baby nibbling on his fingers, his tone thick with concern.
"He'll grow, Dean. Don't you worry." Mary assured the worried four-year-old.
Dean sighed, as though the stress of his little brother's size was simply more than he could bear.
Mary laughed softly at her son's reaction.
By the time they made their way to the fitting room, Dean had his sick little brother giggling. Mary had no desire to separate the content pair, but she did not want to have to return the next day to make a bunch of returns if the clothes didn't fit.
"Dean, I'll take Sammy. I need you to go into this room and try on these pants, for Mommy, please." Mary instructed, reaching out and scooping Sam up with one arm, and lifting Dean out of the cart with her other.
"Here, take these in there and try them on." She said, placing Dean on the floor and putting the pairs of jeans in his hands, as she nodded toward the open dressing room next to them.
"And Batman?" Dean asked, nearly hopping in place, with excitement.
"And Batman." Mary added, reaching back into the cart to grab the sacred shirt.
Dean grinned and accepted the treasure, before marching into the change room.
"Come out and show me, so I know that they fit. And don't worry about the buttons, darling, I'll do them up."
"Kay." Dean called out, closing the door.
Sam didn't like that.
The second there was a solid barrier between the two brothers, Mary's youngest immediately began to fuss.
"It's okay, honey." She consoled, distractedly, as she one-handedly attempted to sort through the clothes tossed into the cart. The words did nothing to soothe the child, who began to whimper. Nothing Mary did calmed the baby, the whimpering turned to crying, which quickly morphed into hiccupping sobs.
"Sweetheart. You're okay. You're okay, baby boy." Mary promised softly, glancing at her watch and realizing it was nearly time for his eardrops, which were at home.
The young mother sighed tiredly, bouncing Sam on her hip as she searched through the clothing. The movement was normally something that worked, but not now, not when he was feeling so miserable, and in pain.
Mary dug the pacifier out of her purse, but Sam just spat it out.
"What's the matter with, Sammy?" Dean questioned, appearing from out of the fitting room sporting a new pair of jeans, his expression pinched in concern.
"His ear is hurting him."
Dean nodded with a frown, making it clear he understood, but he was not okay with it.
"How are those fitting?" Mary asked, bending down and lifting Dean's shirt up so she could see the waistband. She couldn't do the button with one hand, though she did try, so she simply tugged the two sides together and made sure there was a sufficient amount of room left.
"Alright, those will do. Scooch back in there quick and try on the other pair. Okay sweetie? We've got to get Sammy home and give him his medicine."
Dean nodded earnestly, before moving back into the room.
Once the door closed again, Sam let out an anguished wail.
No amount of rocking or sweet words were enough to appease the youngster, and Mary knew of only one cure for her baby's sorrow.
"Dean, sweetheart, can Sammy please come in there with you?" She asked knocking gently on the door.
Dean opened it immediately, half dressed, with his arms out ready to accept his baby brother.
"I'm just going to put him down here on the floor." Mary narrated, grabbing Sam's blankie from out of her purse and laying it out on the ground, setting the youngster down on top of it.
"Thank you honey. Be quick, okay?" She instructed, trying not to be shocked with how suddenly her youngest settled.
"I will." Dean stated, as he smiled down at his little brother.
Mary closed the door, trying not to feel like she was failing at something. What did it say about her as a mother, when her toddler was better with her five-month-old than she was?
But as Mary stood outside the door, organizing the clothing in the cart and calculating the price, she heard Dean speaking.
"How do you like this, Sammy? It looks pretty awesome, huh? Batman is the best. I like him a lot. But not as much as you or Mommy or Daddy. But still a lot. Like almost as much as the Impala. I wish you could have a Batman shirt too, Sammy. But don't worry, you can wear this one when you get bigger. I'll share it with you."
The four-year-old nattered away, and Mary could hear the delighted noises Sam made in response to his big brother.
It was than that she realized that she wasn't failing because she couldn't do it all, she was simply blessed with two little boys who adored each other more than anything else in the world.
Once Mary finally got her two sons loaded back in the cart and they were waiting in line, she noticed that even though Sam was overdue for his medicine, he seemed completely content in his big brother's arms.
Mary marveled at Dean's ability to soothe her youngest. She had originally thought that maybe he held Sam in a special way, she used to study the way Dean cradled the child, and tried to mimic it, but it made no difference. Her eldest wasn't using a specific method, there was just something about him that calmed Sam. Her boys simply had a connection. She didn't understand it. She had no siblings of her own, nor did John, neither of them had any idea about the sibling connection, but she had never thought it to be such a powerful thing. Dean had a way with Sam, he could settle the baby in a heartbeat. Sam had a way with his big brother as well, even at just five-months-old, nobody made Dean smile like Sammy did. No one calmed the four-year-old better than Mary's youngest, either. Anytime Dean was upset, all his mother had to do was place Sam in the toddler's arms, and he was instantly mollified.
No, Mary never knew that the bond between siblings, the bond between brothers, could be so strong. She didn't know if it was normal, or maybe her boys were closer than most, but she did hope – with all her heart – that they would never drift apart or lose the powerful, affectionate bond they shared. She had felt alone for so much of her life, and she knew that John had felt the same way; that was one of the reasons they had always intended on having more than one child. She hoped that Sam and Dean would never have to feel alone, that they would always have each other.
"You're such a good big brother, Dean. I'm so proud of you." Mary praised, sliding a hand lovingly through the soft blonde hair.
"Thanks, Mommy. Sammy is a good little brother too." Her freckled child declared, beaming up at her.
"He is. He loves you so much, sweetheart." She exclaimed gently, smiling at her boys.
"And I love him." Dean proclaimed, grinning down at the baby held securely in his grip. Mary followed the green gaze, her own smile widening at the sight of two little dimples and the wide hazel eyes staring up at his big brother.
Her entire life, she had never dared to dream of being this happy.
Of being married to a man that loved her so completely, a man who would give his life for his family.
Of being a mother to a freckle-faced angel, or the sweetest dimpled baby-boy on the planet.
She had never imagined she would be raising two sons who shared the most amazing bond she had ever seen.
Her life was everything she had ever wanted, and she wanted to giver her boys everything she possibly could.
A safe home.
A happy childhood.
A life of joy and normalcy.
She wanted her two precious babies to have it all.
Though, it was becoming clear, that all those two really needed, was each other.
Note: I know that it is shorter than most of my fics, but it was fun to write and I thought some of you might enjoy it! Please comment/review and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading! - Sam