Author's Note: I'm still having pleasant shivers after Dean's Big Brother moment, and although I do have a long-ish story with lined up (with plot and banter and an appearance from my favourite guest star), this isn't the time for it. This is the time for schmoop. Enjoy!

Thanks, as always, to Cheryl for all the help!

Summary: A woman meets the Winchesters, and truths get told. Set any season. Fluff and absolutely no plot.

Little Things

When I met Sam, it was a cold Saturday in early February. It was my weekend for the kids. I'd taken them to the park. I was watching them run around with the dogs, scarves trailing behind them.

It was some time before I noticed the man sitting at one of the picnic tables, and even then it was because the ball Brian tossed landed right next to him. Butterfly, our six-month-old golden retriever, with a sweet nature and absolutely no sense of boundaries, knocked him over in her hurry to fetch the ball.

I ran to help, but before I could get there, he was already on his feet, laughing and assuring the kids that he wasn't hurt. He let Butterfly lick his hands in apology and scratched her behind the ears to let her know she was forgiven. Butterfly rolled onto her back for a belly rub before getting up and tearing off after the ball again.

"I'm sorry about that," I said. "Brian's just excited to be here this weekend, and Butterfly isn't very good with personal space."

"That's all right," he said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I like dogs."

Something in his voice sounded a little sad, a little lost. With the children occupied, I felt safe checking him out.

He was tall – no, not just tall. He was big. Broad shoulders to match his height, and a dimpled smile that looked slightly wistful as he watched the families in the park. It made him look like a kid, and it made me want to fuss over him until the tiny hint of sorrow disappeared.

"Rough day?" I asked.

He huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I guess you could say so."

"What's wrong? Girlfriend troubles?" He had the look, and it would explain the wistfulness and the smile that didn't go all the way.

He shook his head, smile dimming.

"Boyfriend troubles?" I ventured.

He laughed at that one. "No… No, no romantic difficulties of any kind, I promise."

"What is it, then?"

He looked at me, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Really? You barely know me."

"You barely know me, either." I shrugged. "So? I'm not asking you to move in with me. I'm not even asking you on a date. You just look like you want to talk, and… You know. I can listen. How is it different from pouring out your troubles to a stranger at a bar?"

"Well, for one thing, I'd have to be drunk to pour out my troubles to a stranger at a bar."

"I don't think drunk is a good idea around this many children, but we can get soda," I told him, indicating the concession stand not far from us.

"So?" I prompted, when we were sitting at the table with our drinks. "What's the story? Why is one of the cutest men I've seen in months moping by himself in a park on a Saturday morning? Also, do you have a name, or should I keep referring to you in my head as Tall-and-Broody?"

He dimpled adorably. "It's Sam."

"Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Nicky. Brian is the one who almost decapitated you with a tennis ball, and my daughter's name is Nora." I shook his hand. "So… Now that we've been introduced, why were you moping?"

Sam shook his head. "It's not a big deal or anything… I had an argument with my brother. We're here on a road trip."

It was my turn to look surprised.

"Your… brother?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I know, I'm too old for that, right? My brother still thinks I'm the kid whose shoelaces he used to tie… That's half the problem."

"Your brother tied your shoelaces?"

Sam flushed and looked away. "Our mother died when I was a baby and our father was very busy with work and stuff. My brother took care of me."

"Oh." I felt like an idiot. But, really, there was no way I could have known. I could guess the problem, though. "So your brother doesn't really want to let you grow up? Is that what you argued about?"

"I don't even know." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "It started with something stupid. I think we were arguing about whose turn it was for first shower, or maybe whose turn it was to pick up breakfast, and it escalated." He sighed. "All our arguments tend to escalate these days. I don't even know. We both wind up saying so much, and hurting each other, and the last thing I want is to hurt him."

"Does he want to hurt you?"

"What? No!" Sam sounded like the idea was repellent. "No, he would never… No. It's just… I wish he'd realize I'm an adult. He doesn't need to watch out for me all the time. And he doesn't need to freak out if I watch out for him. It's like… it's like he doesn't trust me to do it right."

"I'm sure he trusts you," I said automatically.

"Doesn't sound like it."

"Hey!" a new voice interrupted before I could answer. "I hope I'm not getting in the way of anything?"

Sam and I both looked up, though he looked away quickly at the sight of the newcomer. It was a tall man – not quite as tall as Sam, though – with green eyes that, if it hadn't been my weekend for the kids, I would happily have lost myself in.

The man sat, uninvited, on the bench next to Sam. "Hi. My name's Dean."

"Nicky," I said, reaching across the table to shake his hand.

He held on just a beat too long, smiling into my eyes, before he let me go and offered his hand to Sam. Sam looked bewildered.

"My name's Dean," Dean repeated, slowly. "Nice to meet you."

Sam thrust his hand into Dean's, but he looked even more puzzled. "Sam."

"Sam." Dean smiled. "So, Sam… I couldn't help overhearing what you were telling Nicky –"

"Yeah, I'll bet you couldn't," Sam muttered.

I frowned. I really didn't want them to get into an argument. I didn't want to have to pick a side.

"I'm sure it was unintentional," I offered.

Sam and Dean both turned to stare at me like they'd forgotten I was there. Dean was the first to recover, shooting me a cocky grin and turning back to Sam.

"See? Nicky isn't accusing me of eavesdropping. Anyway, Sammy – can I call you Sammy?"

"Only my brother gets to call me that."

Dean shrugged, his grin brightening for some reason. "That so? Well, I'm sure he won't mind if I do. I mean, he'd have to be insane, right?" Dean leaned on the table, propping his chin up on one hand. "Anyway, Sammy, don't you think you're being hard on your brother?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you think so."

I had to admit I was a little startled by Sam's behaviour. True, it was discourteous of Dean to barge in on a clearly private conversation. But Sam hadn't struck me as the type to be rude to strangers even when he was provoked.

"Yeah, I do," Dean said, unperturbed by Sam's dirty look. "I've got a little brother myself. I know how it works."

"How does it work?" Sam asked, scowling. "You get to be Supreme Dictator because you're older?"

"No, but how cool would that be?" Dean's grin faded at the sight of Sam's glare. "Look, I'm sure it goes both ways and there's fault on both sides or whatever. I'm not saying you don't have a right to be annoyed. I'm sure your brother has done something to deserve you being pissed off at him. But how does it help anything if you sit around here sulking?"

"I'm not sulking!" Sam snapped. "And my brother –"

He broke off suddenly, crossing his arms and turning away.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, his voice gentle and coaxing. "What did he do? I thought you said it was just a silly argument."

"Nothing important. I just… I'm just tired of him treating me like a kid. Like after all this time he doesn't trust me to be an adult and have his back."

"He said he doesn't trust you?"

"He didn't have to say it!"

"You're overreacting."

"Screw you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Calm down, Sammy. I…" His eyes flitted to me. "Like I said, I've got a little brother of my own. I'm sure you're a smart kid, but there are some things you'll never understand."

"Like what?" Sam asked warily.

"Like the fact that my little brother is the most important thing in my whole world. Like the fact that I care about him so much it scares me sometimes. He's an adult now, and he's bigger than me, and I know he can hold his own in a fight. Except where I hate to see him in fights because when I think about somebody hurting him, I forget how to breathe."

Sam slowly looked up. The moment he met Dean's eyes, I knew.

"You think it doesn't work both ways?" he asked hoarsely.

"I know it does," Dean told him. "I know, but that doesn't change the fact that I've been a big brother for too long to stop now. I couldn't if I wanted to. And I know my brother's grown up, but it hurts when he acts like he doesn't need me anymore."

"He needs you." Sam's eyes hadn't dropped from Dean's. "You will never have any idea how much he needs you. He just wants you to trust him enough to let him take care of you when you need it."

"Even when he's being a little bitch and coming out here to sulk when it's freaking freezing and making me come out after him when I could be in my nice warm motel room?" Sam glared, and Dean laughed. "You know I trust you. More than anyone. I never meant to make you think I didn't."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too… Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"We're going to have a chick-flick moment."

"Hate to break it to you, Sammy, but we already are having a chick-flick moment. Katherine Heigl is going to show up from behind one of those trees any minute now."

Sam huffed. "Fine. Then the chick-flick moment we're currently having is about to get a lot worse." Sam scooted closer to Dean on the bench, and then he turned to me. "Nicky, this is Dean. He's my big brother. He's the best big brother in the world, and he's always taken care of me, and I love him more than anything, even when he's being an overprotective idiot."

Dean flushed scarlet, but he didn't turn away.

"And you've already met my baby bro," he said, slinging an arm around Sam's shoulders. "He's an emo little bitch."

"You two are the cutest." I couldn't help smiling broadly at both of them. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Sure." Dean let Sam go and leaned forward. "You know, when I was in school, the best way to get girls to pay attention was to let them see Sammy. He was tiny back then – I mean, he was a runt, you'd never have known he was going to grow up to be Bigfoot."

"Dean!" Sam protested.

Dean ignored it. "Anyway, when he was really young he had this way of sort of clinging to my leg and peeking out from behind it. Girls went nuts for that. You know what, I may even have a picture of him doing that."

"Dean!"

Dean patted Sam's head. Sam swatted his hand away irritably. Dean patted his head again and turned to me. "Wouldn't you have gone out with me after that? Isn't he the most adorable little thing?"

"Watch who you're calling little, short stack," Sam growled.

I couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, he is."

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