Even though he was protesting, before, Dean’s grinning now, which is good - it means he isn’t just going to reluctantly take him out to go see. It means he’ll probably enjoy it, too, and Sam’s glad. He wouldn’t have as much fun if he thought Dean wasn’t having fun, too. His brother gets up and gets his coat out for him (Sam can’t quite reach yet - well, he can if he hops a little, but it’s just easier if Dean does it for him; someday, he’s going to be tall like Dean is), gets his shoes and starts loosening them up, as if Sam can’t put his own shoes on without help. He doesn’t mind, though - it’s just what Dean always does.
>“You'd better not start screaming like a girl, Samantha.”
“Deeeean, I’m not gonna scream. And it’s Sam.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head a little, but he’s still grinning because fireworks! He doesn’t think anything can bring his mood down right now (anything short of Really Bad Things like monsters getting them, anyway, but that won’t happen, so it’s fine).
>"You know where your gloves are?"
“Front pocket of my duffle bag, next to the polyhedral dice and my math flash cards,” Sam answers promptly, stressing and over-pronouncing the bigger word because he just learned it and he's a little proud of himself, even as he drops to the floor to take the first pre-loosened shoe and jam it on his foot. "I didn't have room with my clothes," he adds - because, yeah, that's sort of a weird place for gloves - then he looks up at Dean quizzically while he fumbles with the laces on his shoe (two loops, tie the loops together; they’re tied, but they’re looser than when Dean does it. He'll get better at it eventually, though).