Dean licked the vanilla threatening to spill over his cone with ease, trying not to think too hard about the small figure walking besides him. You were lapping at your own ice cream with small cold hands on the side of your cone, all while Dean smiled at how awkward the large object looked in comparison to your tiny fingers. You looked up at him, your gaze on him while you two walked. Sam had run off somewhere, having to take a call leaving you two alone. Dean offered to take you to the ice cream show across the street, although you figued it was a way to get your mind off of the very obvious fact that the call Sam had to take most likely has something to do with your mom. Dean was fond of you. More than others, something he found himself wondering why. Your mom was nice, sure, but something stuck with you. Call it parental overprotectiveness, but he felt the opposite. He wasn't dad material, quite the opposite he thought, especially considering how he handled the situation with you. So, you can imagine his suprise when he feels a smaller hand cusp two of his fingers gently. He tried not to make it obvious how much it had affected him as you two continued walking to where Sam said to meet. Although, he did slow down to match your smaller steps.