#i wrote

"What are you doing?" she asks gently. He usually has a reason for the things he does, often one that takes asking him to understand.

He finally lets it go, glances back at the dress to smooth it out a little. It's white with big, orange flowers, and she tilts her head for a moment, looking at it, looking at him. "Sam, do you want to try it on?" she asks. 

"No!" he denies, whipping around so his back's to the shallow closet. He bites his lip, then forces his face into a calmer expression. His eyes are still wild. 

"It's a piece of clothing, Sam," she says, amused. "Not a big deal. Speaking of?" She holds out her arms at either side to display the dirt she collected while working on the flower beds. 

He jumps out of the way, scrubs his hand through his hair with his head bowed as she picks out what she's going to wear. "Are you sure?" he asks as she starts to shut the closet door.

She stops it mid-swing, before the door meets the jamb. "Yeah. It might even almost fit you." Her voice is warm. "Come on."

She opens the door up again, yanks the hanger off the rod and gingerly hands the dress to Sam to make sure she doesn't get any dirt on it. She goes into the bathroom to change, and by the time she comes back out, he has the dress on and his jeans are at his ankles. His socks are still on.

"Can you, uh?" he turns.

"You're gonna trip over those jeans," she warns as the zipper finally meets the little hook he'd already fastened. "On or off, but not down at your ankles."

He kicks the jeans off a little clumsily, then walks a few steps to sit down at the foot of the bed, glancing up at her. 

"Mom, I was kind of thinking of going to this movie," he rushes out.

"Want Dad to take you?" He stares at her like she has to be kidding. "Okay, okay. It'd be nice if you two did something together every once in a while, is all I'm saying. You're probably old enough to go alone by now."

"I wanna go with you." She hides a smile. "You already finished working on the flowers, right?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "I guess since I don't have any more excuses, I'll take you."

"Good! I don't think my friends would understand it," he admitted.

Sam and Mary are suddenly alert as they hear John grumbling something at Dean in the kitchen.

"Sam, honey," she says, nodding at the dress. He understands, standing and turning his back toward her again so she can help him out of it. 

They're too late. John's unusually perky for it being a hangover sort of day off, and he stands in the doorway staring as a dress puddles at Sam's socked feet.

"What are you doing?" he asks. He doesn't ask it like Mary asks it. He asks it like he's owed an answer, like answering him is more important than what you're doing or why you're doing it.

"Taking a dress off," Sam snaps. He's heated with embarrassment. He hates the tone of John's voice, the underlying desire to control. It's a simple fact of life that Sam and John clash.

"What the hell, Mary?" John asks, eyeing her.

Mary just shrugs.

"Sam, you oughta be careful."

"It was my idea," Sam says.

"Oh yeah? What are you, some sort of freak?"

Sam's face twitches slightly.

Mary turns to John with a look that he knows better than to cross, and Sam knows that about it too. The look seems calm, but there’s something in her eyes, something ready to hunt and kill. She hasn’t ever explained to John why she is so damn good at hunting and killing, but John knows it goes beyond putting dinner on the table. He’s seen combat, but, damn, his wife has too, some way or another. Her and that insular family of hers.

Sam just sees his mother.

"John Winchester, if I ever hear you say that again," she says. She pauses, corrects her statement, "No, if I hear you've ever said that again." Her brow is raised, she has that deadly calm, sending a chill through the air.

John shrinks away like a weed sprayed with something it deserves. "Okay," he says.

"It's a piece of clothing. Clothing serves a purpose, and that's it. We choose it for a lot of different reasons." John has the decency to shift on his feet under her scrutiny. She gestures to Sam, "This is a smart kid. He knows what he wants. He's allowed to try on any type of clothing under my roof."

Her word is final. John lowers his head.

"I'm taking him to a movie." Mary holds out her hand. John quickly pulls out his wallet. He knows to add a little extra.

"Snacks, for Sam," he says awkwardly.

Mary pats John's hand. "Thanks, hon. Tidy up the clothes, okay?"

John's nod is practically a salute and a "yes, sir." He eyes her warily because she's going to test him, somehow. She's going to push things one more time, unrelenting in what she sees as how to grow love and kindness when it comes to the boys.'

Mary hands him the hanger for the dress, waits until he's put it back on there a little clumsily.

"That goes in Sam's closet, for now."

John gives Mary a slow nod.

Mary leans in to kiss John's cheek. "Thanks, hon. Take it easy, and we'll be back around three o'clock."

Sam feels warm with love and a little embarrassment as they head down the stairs together. Sam eyes Dean like he wants to try and explain the movie to Dean cause maybe he'll understand more than his friends would.