April, 6 2007

Sam had barely begun to scan the airport crowd for familiar faces when a shrill, "Uncle Sam!" pierced the noise of the busy terminal, drawing his attention easily to the sight of his nephew struggling to be released from Brenda's grasp. Smiling he dropped to one knee and allowed the charging boy to plow into him for a hug.

After a quick enthusiastic embrace, Johny wiggled out of his arms and began chanting, "up, up, up" jumping in place, arms stretched upwards.

Sam smiled slyly, "You want me to put you up?" he asked innocently, stalling as he watched Dean's approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeees! Up. Up. Up!" the boy answered, still jumping as Sam rose back to his feet.

"Why do you want me to put you up?" Sam asked when he knew his brother was in earshot.

"Because you're taller than daddy!" Johny proudly recited the memorized line, and Sam promptly scooped the boy easily onto his shoulders.

"Dean," he called, "grab my carry on, will you? I've got my hands full." he smirked impishly.

"OK Sam," Dean said as he passed, "that's round one to you. Hell of a way to do it though, turning a man's own son against him."

"Sam you don't have to do that." Brenda had caught up with the group. "Johny, don't pester Uncle Sam. He just got here. If you're too tired to walk, daddy can carry you."

"Nuh-uh," the boy latched onto Sam's shirt with both hands, "I like when Uncle Sam does it. He's taller than daddy. He's taller than a dinosaur!" he finished up with a loud childish roar.

"It's fine, Brenda, really, "Sam reassured her. "This is the best part of being home."

"You sure about that, little brother? All your buddies are gonna be kicking it in TJ this week."

Sam laughed, "Yeah, doing things they'll spend the rest of their lives hoping no one ever finds out about. I'll take this." He jostled his shouldered and was rewarded with a burst of delighted giggles. "So what are you playing this year, kiddo? Softball or football?"

"Piano." Dean said dryly.

"Oh man, dad must have loved that." Sam couldn't keep the grin from his face, so turned to start working his way through the crowd to try and hide it.

"Actually, he was surprisingly cool with it." Dean shouldered Sam's bag. "Said it was better than pushing buttons from backstage."

"Jerk." Sam snorted.

"Bi..."

"Dean!" Brenda cut him off, "not in front of Johny!"

XXXXX

Sam had declined Brenda's offer of the front seat in favor of allowing his nephew some one on one time with him. He remembered what it was like to be the one child amongst a group of grown-ups. As soon as the drive from the airport was over the adults would start "adulting" with one another and Johny would be offered some distraction, cookies and cartoons or the like, to keep him busy and out of the way.

Sam could sympathize, so he had climbed into the familiar backseat prepared to spend the trip hearing all about 2nd grade and piano lessons. "So Johny, I hear you're doing good in school. Looks like I'll need to save you a seat at Stanford, huh?" The boy's wordless, sulky shrug took him by surprise. "Problem?" he prompted.

"I don't wanna be called Johny anymore," the boy sulked. "It's for babies."

Sam laughed softly before catching himself. "I know what you mean." He leaned in and whispered loudly, "You know, your dad used to call me Sammy just to watch me get upset."

"What do you mean 'used to', Sammy?" Dean quipped from behind the wheel.

"Johny, no," Brenda had twisted around in her seat to face him, "We've talked about this. Grandpa is John. If we have two Johns it'll confuse everybody. You can be little John." If her exasperated tone was anything to judge by, Sam could tell that they had, in fact, talked about it, a lot.

"That's the same thing." Johny pouted. He knew his mother was a dead end on the topic, so he was playing the "sympathy from a visiting uncle" card for all it was worth.

"What?" Sam interjected, feigning shock. "Do you mean to tell me, that you've never heard of Little John?" Johny shook his head, forgetting for the moment to keep up the morose pretense, Sam's response having taken him by surprise. "Dean," Sam pretended to scold his brother, "Haven't you been teaching this boy anything important?"

"You're the book geek, Sammy." Dean snarked. "Didn't want to trespass."

Sam turned his attention back to his nephew. "OK, I want to listen to this carefully," he said seriously, "because it's very important." The version of Robin Hood that he launched into drew pretty heavily from Disney and "Men In Tights", and not so much from "A Gest of Robyn Hode" considering the age of his audience. He made sure to put special emphasis on how Robin would have been doomed if not for the back up of his strong and loyal right hand. His nephew listened to every word with rapt attention and wide eyes. The effort paid off. By the time they had arrived at John and Mary's to drop Sam off, much to his parent's relief, the boy was insisting upon being called Little John thereafter.

In the driveway, Brenda went up on her toes to plant a grateful kiss on Sam's cheek. Dean was content to let her handle the thanks. Sure, the kid had stepped up and pulled him out of parenting Hell, but he'd be damned to real Hell before he admitted it out loud.