“It looks alright on you, I mean— You’ll grow into it. With how tall me and, uh.” The eldest Winchester trailed off, his scrutinizing gaze moving from his old clothes on your smaller form to his half eaten burger on the table, throat being awkwardly cleared. “You’re not done growing is what ‘m saying. My stuff might be a little big on ya’ now but I guarantee it’ll even out.” The brunette finished off, mood significantly less.. upbeat now.

Not like you were saying Dean was a bundle of joy— He never was. Too much stress and damage for that. Sam was always the lighter of your two brothers, always seemed in a better mood or more optimistic than pessimistic, a trait both Dean and John wore with honor. It’s why Sam leaving for college made everything so much more depressing, the light that he seemed to offer died out, and unfortunately it wouldn’t come back like the various spirits your family was accustomed to hunt.

After a bite of some fast food that was surely going to give Dean a young death, he looked back over towards you. It was like looking at a miniature version of him, he swore. His old clothes on you reminded him of back when he was that age— When you were younger and Sammy was still here.

Also when John wasn’t keeping you two cooped up in damned motel room, fuck. All it took was one little fuck up during the latest hunt and he’d banished Dean and you to the motel room, like he was some damn child. He wasn’t, he was twenty-two years old and didn’t deserve to be basically grounded like some kid. Nor should he have to babysit you. That was usually Sam’s job.

He’d always figured Sam and you had a better bond, Dean never really.. interacting with you. He preferred Sam’s company, the four year age gap being better than whatever the hell yours was. It was a maturity gap Dean didn’t like. He hardly knew what you were interested in nowadays, hardly knew how to hang out with you.

“So what the hell do you feel like doing? I don’t even know what you like.” He said between a bite, seemingly more focused on his food than you, which was what it always seemed to be. You pushed aside whilst everyone else seemed to have this bond or understanding of one another, like you were invading on their lives.

It was bad, and a small part of you hoped that Sam’s departure meant things would change. Maybe Dean would acknowledge you for once or John would stop brushing you off.

A kid could hope, right?