Dean gazed at the house his father had parked in front of, eyeing the dilapidated car yard he could just barely see behind it. He unfolded his arms to push open the car door, stepping out with a grunt. Shooting a glare at the man on the porch, he made his way to the trunk to grab the bags he and Sammy had brought. It wasn't that he disliked the man, who he and Sam (but mostly Sam) had affectionately dubbed "Uncle" Bobby, but Dean was not in a good mood. His father was leaving the Winchester children with Bobby for, as far as Dean knew, the whole year. Something about a string of hunts in Pennsylvania, stretching into New York. However, Dean had a feeling that a factor in taking the job had been the opportunity to be alone without having to deal with his kids.
He heard two more car doors open and close as his father and little brother climbed out of the Impala. His father went up to the porch to greet Bobby, and Sam joined him at the back of the car just as he opened the trunk. Dean shouldered his own bag and tossed the other duffel bag to his sibling.
"Here ya go, runt." He teased. Sam was much shorter than Dean, and he enjoyed rubbing it in. Sam had told him once to enjoy it while it lasted, because he, like every younger child, expected to grow a lot bigger than their sibling someday, but honestly, what were the chances of that?
Sam glared at him. He, of course, didn't find his brother's jest to be very funny. "I'm not a runt, Dean." He said, catching his bag, holding it by the straps so that the bottom brushed the dirt.
"'Course not, Sammy. Whatever you gotta tell yourself." He handed Sam another bag, full of his nerd stuff, instead of throwing it. His brother would freak if Dean tossed his books around.
The younger Winchester hiked this second, heavier bag up onto his shoulder, turning towards the house. "And don't call me Sammy!" He complained.
Dean slammed the trunk. "Stinging comeback, bro. Don't know how I can compete." He gave his brother a copaphragious grin, and Sam simply rolled his eyes in response, eyebrows furrowed. They walked up to join their father and "uncle" on the slightly bowed porch. As they approached the two adults, the tension in the air was palpable. Dean knew his father and Bobby weren't exactly in each other's good graces, but he also knew that Bobby was pretty much the only one their father trusted enough to take care of his children for so long.
Sam was already uncomfortable with the prospect of their father being gone for so long, but he seemed to shrink into himself more when he sensed the tense atmosphere. Bobby smiled at the two, though it seemed slightly forced. Their dad looked at them.
"Well. I've already told you as much as I can about this. Dean, look out for Sam. Sam, don't try to call me. It's too far, and I'll be busy. Got that?"
Dean's temper flared at his dad's comment, since he knew that Sam got anxious when he couldn't call their dad, and while Dean could get tired of it, even he wasn't mean enough to shut him down about it. He got angrier when he saw Sam flush with embarrassment, muttering, "Okay." as he avoided his father's gaze. But all Dean did was repeat the word.
Their father nodded. "Alright then. Goodbye, you two." He shook Dean's hand, awkwardly patted Sam's shoulder, then walked back to the car. In moments, he was gone.
Bobby visibly relaxed. He smiled at the brothers once more, sweeping them into a one-armed hug. Dean groaned, making a bigger show of distaste than he really felt, but Sam leaned into the familial touch. After a second, their "uncle" pulled away, holding them at arm's length and inspecting them.
"Well, been a while, hasn't it, boys?"