"Dean! Dean!" the little five-year-old waved his pudgy arms in the air, trying to get his older brothers attention.
Dean looked down at his Sammy.
"Sup, what is it, Sammy?" he asked, ruffling his little brother's hair.
"I'm gonna dress up as my favourite superhero!" crowed the little boy. Dean smiled and memorised the page he was on before closing the thick book he was reading.
"Okay then." Sam smiled.
"Close your eyes and count to three." he demanded.
Dean closed his eyes, "OneTwoThree." he gabbled and flung them open.
Sam crossed his chubby arms and stuck his bottom lip out.
"Slower!" he protested. Dean chuckled and closed his eyes again.
"One."
He heard Sammy run out of the room and loud swishing, rustling noises came from in front of him.
"Don't look!"
"Two."
There was more frantic rustling then a loud banging, thudding noise.
"I'm okay!" Sammy called before Dean could look.
"One!"
Thump! Thump! Bang! As Dean opened his eyes, his little brother landed in front of him.
A way-too-large plaid top and leather jacket hung off his puny shoulders as he smiled up triumphantly.
Dean couldn't stop a gigantic smile as he recognised them: plaids he had brought himself, not his fathers cast-offs.
"You're my favourite superhero!" cried Sammy, in case Dean didn't get it.
"I'm you!"
Dean scooped his little brother up into a hug.
"You're the best superhero of them all, Sam." he promised, setting the kid down and messing up his hair again.
"I love you, Dean!" cried Sammy.
Just as John walked through the door.
