Title: My Brother, the Superhero
Author: Sarah :)
Pairing/Character: Wee!Chesters! Dean and Sam, gen.
Word Count: 2602
Summary: John's busy on Sam's "bring your parent to school" day. Oh noes!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Yet.
Notes: This is my first Supernatural fic EVER, and I'm wicked nervous. Like, wicked, WICKED nervous. Thanks to the lovely herowlness for the beta, and the encouragement. BECAUSE NEW FANDOMS ARE SCARY, YO. But, you know. In this case, they're also pretty darn hot ;).
"But, Daddy," Sam pouted, "everyone else's parents are gonna be there. I'll be the only one who's alone." His lower lip trembled. "They'll all think I'm weird."
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I have to go. The coven isn't going to wait for 'bring your parent to school' day. Maybe next year."
"You said that last year," the disappointed seven year-old muttered, kicking the kitchen table on his way out of the room.
Dean looked up from his comic book when his sullen brother entered the living room. "Hey, Sammy. What's wrong? You look like someone just ran over your dog, and...we don't even have a dog."
"Dad would probably ruin that, too."
Dean frowned. "Sam?"
"Tomorrow at school, everyone is 'posed to bring their parents in for the whole day, to show them what we do and stuff. And - "
"Dad has that witch thing, and he can't go. He would, though, if he could, Sammy. It's just really important, and - "
"I know, Dean! It's always really important! More important than me," he huffed, collapsing on the couch alongside Dean.
Silence passed between the two so that the only noise heard in the room was the sound of Dean turning the pages of his comic.
"I'll go with you," he said suddenly.
"What?" Sam looked up at his brother.
"To your school thing. I know I'm not Dad, but at least you wouldn't have to show up alone."
Sam said nothing, instead looking down and nervously fiddling with his hands.
"Fine," Dean said, a little too sharply for the sentiment to be true, rising from his seat. "Never mind. I'm really busy, anyway, and - "
"ThankyouDeanyou'rethebestbigbrotherever." Sam's words came out in a rush as he hopped off the couch and wrapped his arms around Dean, burying his face into the worn cotton of his brother's T-shirt.
"What was that?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want me to go. I have lots of stuff going on at school this week, Sammy."
"Please, Dean?" Sam's lower lip jutted out into a pout, and began to quiver. "I don't want everyone to make fun of me."
"Well..." Dean rubbed his chin in mock-thought.
"Pleeeeeease?" Sam's arms tightened their grip around Dean's waist.
Attempting to suppress a smile, Dean pulled his younger brother away from him and ruffled his hair. "I guess since you asked so nicely. You owe me, dude."
"Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Sam proceeded to dance around the living room, his despair at John's inability to attend the school activity completely forgotten. After all, Dean was going to school with him.
James K. Polk Middle School, 8:00 AM
"Dean, is it?"
"Yes, ma'am." Dean shot the kindly older woman his most dazzling smile.
"Shouldn't you be in your own class right now?" She was clearly unaffected by said smile. Dean upped the charm level.
"No," Dean lied, more convincingly than any eleven-year-old should be able to. "I talked to Miss Norris, and she said I could stay here with Sammy. That it's what any good brother would do."
"Oh. She did, did she?" Mrs. Stone's tone was skeptical. The teacher turned away from Dean to scan the rapidly-filling classroom. Laughter and excited chatter filled the air as children showed their parents around the room. Only one student looked anything less than ecstatic to be in school at the moment. While the spirited hustle and bustle surrounded him, Sam sat quietly at his desk, his arms folded underneath his head and his mouth drawn into a pitiful frown. Shaking her head, the woman brightened considerably and moved to face Dean again. "Never mind that - I'll be sure to check in with her later. Right now, why don't you grab a chair and go sit next to your brother? We're going to start our introductions now."
"Introductions?" Dean began inching towards the door. And towards freedom.
"Of course. I'm sure everyone will just love meeting you, sweetie. Come on."
Swallowing a large gulp, he allowed himself to be lead through the classroom.
He sure hoped Sammy appreciated this.
"Thank you, Mrs. Donovan. Class, do you have any questions for Susan's mother?"
The children remained silent.
"Okay, then. Sam? Why don't you introduce your special guest to us."
" 'Kay!" An overly-eager Sam leaped from his seat, tugging Dean up from the chair that had been moved alongside his desk. "This is my big brother, Dean! He's the coolest big brother ever!" Sam clasped Dean's hand tightly as they made their way to the front of the room. Upon seeing the sea of faces in front of him, Sam's eyes widened.
"And?" Mrs. Stone prodded gently.
Sam let out a tiny squeak, and a few children began to snicker.
Dean clasped a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hi, I'm Dean," he began with a smirk. Several of the little girls in the class giggled. "I'm Sammy's brother, and I'm in fifth grade." An impressed murmur circulated throughout the room. Looking over at the still-mute Sam, Dean continued. "I like rock music, the Ninja Turtles, long walks along the beach, and..."
Off of Mrs. Stone's horror-stricken expression, Sam finally found his voice. "Star Wars," he chirped. "Dean can say all three movies from mem'ry! It's the best! And he can lightsaber fight better than anyone. Even Luke Skywalker!"
This statement caused the majority of boys in the class to erupt in heated debate on whether or not they really thought Dean could take on Luke. Most of the female eyes remained fixed on the eleven-year-old at the front of the room who kept shooting them charming winks.
"Anything else before we take questions?" Mrs. Stone asked, a wry smile gracing her face.
"Ummmm..." Sam scrunched his face up in thought. "Dean's the smartest big brother in the whole wide world. He helps me with all of my homework, and … and … he taught me how to ride a bike, and he makes me better when I'm sick."
This time, the parents in the classroom broke out into a universal "awww."
"So," Sam spoke, ready for his grand finale. "The reason I brought Dean today is 'cause I love him lots, and he takes really good care of me. And 'cause my dad had to work. But mostly for the other stuff."
The class broke out into fervent applause. When Mrs. Stone asked for questions, nearly every arm in the room shot up - parents included. After a lengthy Q and A session with Dean (No, he doesn't have a girlfriend, and yes, he beat Jesse Tucker up for picking on a third grader - "he was askin' for it!"), Mrs. Stone declared a moratorium on the introductions, and moved on with the day's lessons.
10:00 AM: Spelling
"...s - a - u - r. Dinosaur."
"Very nice, Mr. Berkowitz." He got a nod of approval from the teacher.
"That was such an easy one," Sam moaned from his place next to Dean. "Why are they getting all the easy ones? Plus, he's like, a hundred! Of course he can spell dinosaur! He prob'ly is friends with dinosaurs!"
Dean nudged Sam with his elbow. "Don't worry, squirt. We'll still smoke 'em. Don't you have any faith in your big brother?"
Sam shifted nervously in his seat.
Three minutes later, Sam having successfully spelled "dough," the Berkowitzes were up again.
"Your word is: hippopotamus."
Upon the revelation that her father had spelled the word wrong, Mara Berkowitz burst into tears. Sam bit his lip, willing himself to calm down.
"Okay, Winchesters, you're up. If you get this one right, you win. If not, we'll have another word. The word is: hippopotamus."
"Dean," Sam whispered. "That one's really hard! What are we gonna do?"
"We're gonna win this thing, Sammy." Grinning widely, Dean stood up. "Hippopotamus. H - I - P - P - O - P - O - T - A - M - U - S. Hippopotamus."
"That is..." Mrs. Stone paused dramatically as the rest of the class waited with bated breath. "Correct. The Winchesters are the winners of the parent/student spelling bee. Congratulations, you two!"
"Yeeeees!" Sam pumped his fist enthusiastically in the air. Dean raised his palm, and Sam gave him a blistering high-five.
"Dean, that was awesome," Sam breathed. "You beat all the parents. I can't believe we won!"
"Told you not to worry, dorkus."
Sam stared up at his brother, adoration written plainly across his face. "I don't even think Dad could have done that. You're the best ever."
Dean smiled, trying not to let Sam's comparison to their father go to his head. "Yeah, yeah. I know. So when do we get to eat around here?"
11:30 AM: Lunch
Sam looked around the cafeteria and frowned at the sight of all of his classmates and their parents unpacking neatly made lunch boxes, preparing to eat.
"We have to buy lunch. And everyone else doesn't," Sam lamented. "It's Wednesday, Dean, and that means it's really, really gross. I'm not hungry anymore."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sammy. What did I say about having faith?" He pulled a paper lunch bag out from his backpack, the name "SAM WINCHESTER" scrawled across the front in Dean's unruly handwriting.
"Bag lunch!" Sam's eyes lit up. "I thought Dad didn't have time to go to the store before he left."
"He didn't." Dean smacked Sam lightly on the back of the head. "I did. Now are you going to eat it or what?"
"But what are you gonna have?" Sam's lip trembled when he realized Dean had only brought one lunch. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a neatly wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "I'll share, Dean."
"Are you kidding me? I'm buying lunch."
"Dean!" Sammy gasped. "It's meat loaf today!"
"So? I could use a little mystery meat."
Sam watched mournfully as Dean entered the lunch line, not realizing that most of his classmates were actively charting his progress as well.
"Hey, Sam," one little boy at the adjacent table whispered. "Is your brother stupid? That stuff could kill him."
"Nuh-uh. Not Dean!" Sam insisted. "He likes it."
"No one likes meat loaf. I heard they chop up people and put it in it!"
"No. Duh," Sam said matter-of-factly. "Soylent green is people. Not meat loaf."
"What?" The kid looked confused.
Sam sighed with the air of someone much older than his seven years. "Never mind. And anyway, even if it was people, Dean would eat it. Dean likes people!"
"Just wait!" Sam bragged. "It's his favorite thing ever. He even made me lunch and not him, just so he could have it."
Returning to the table triumphantly, Dean cracked his knuckles loudly over his tray, and raised his plastic spork up high.
"Cheers, little brother." Clacking his plasticware against Sam's juicebox, Dean shoved a large portion of the brownish, loaf-shaped substance into his mouth.
Twenty-seven little mouths gaped open when immediately after, he went for a second equally-large scoop.
"Your brother is awesome," the no-longer-doubtful boy next to Sam declared. "Is he, like, some kind of superhero or something?"
"Yep," Sam grinned, popping the 'p' on the word. "He's the best."
12:30 PM: Recess
None of the parents wanted to play. They sat on the sidelines, rooting their children on.
It was no surprise when Tina, one of the captains of the kickball game, picked Dean first.
It was also no surprise when Dean shot a warning glare over at Joe, the other captain, when he tried to pick Sammy second (of course, leaving Tina to take Sammy on her next turn).
Dean. And a game of kickball.
Once again, no one was surprised when it turned out Sam was right about his brother's amazing prowess at the game (or, any sporting event, really, according to Sammy).
Final score: 17-1, in favor of Tina's team.
1:00 PM: Reading
"All right, class, let's show our parents - " a tiny cough interrupted Mrs. Stone's instructions. "Let's show our parents and...Dean," she amended, smiling kindly at her students, "how we do reading time."
As the class of first graders, somewhat resembling a herd of stampeding buffalo, began scrambling towards a corner of the room that contained a neat stack of pillows, the group of parents stood back to give the children a wide berth.
"Dean!" Sammy called to his brother loudly, as his classmates swarmed the area.
"Which ones, Sammy?" His brother shot back, already working his way through the sea of children.
"The red one on the top, with the fluffy thing on it. And the shiny blue one!"
Sam watched, enraptured, as Dean not only navigated the chaotic sprawl of first graders fighting for the "good" pillows, but secured the two very best.
"Wow, Dean. I don't get the good one ever," Sam breathed, clutching the red pillow tightly to his chest as soon as his brother handed it over.
Dean rolled his eyes and laughed. "You're such a dork, Sammy. Why don't you tell me about this book we're reading, okay?"
"'Kay, Dean!" Sam began, chattering on excitedly. Tuning out the words, Dean leaned back on his pillow and tried to file away the memory of Sam's earsplitting grin.
2:30 PM: Snack time
"Why aren't any of them eating, Dean?" Sam asked, watching as nearly all of the parents refused the cookies being passed around the classroom.
"I don't know. Maybe they're too old for cookies?"
Dean and Sam shared a horrified look.
"That's never going to happen to me," Sam stated emphatically, taking extra care to grab as many cookies as he could in his small hand when the box came to him.
Dean, naturally, took twice as many.
And ate them all, faster than anybody else in the class.
"Nobody's that cool," someone in the back of the room murmured softly, watching as Dean polished off his eleventh cookie.
"He is," a girl sitting near the boy replied dreamily.
3:00 PM: Dismissal
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Sam shouted, barreling towards John as he entered the nearly-empty first grade room.
"Hey, Sam-O. Did you and your brother have fun?"
"YES!" Sam shouted, shrieking delightedly when John scooped him off of the ground. "Everyone thinks Dean's really cool. We won the spelling contest, and Dean got asked the most questions, more than everyone else's parents together, and he ate the meat loaf and didn't die, and he had the most cookies at snack time! And we got the good pillows for reading!"
"So you had a good day?"
"I had the best day," Sam affirmed, squirming in his father's arms. Standing off to the side, Dean scratched the back of his head and looked at the ground when John shot him a glance.
"You did good, Dean."
"It was nothing, Dad. Just hanging out with a bunch of first graders."
"Yeah, but it meant a lot to your brother, and I'm proud of you." John shifted Sam in his arms so he could lay a strong hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean, clearly uncomfortable with the praise, turned towards Sam.
"Hey, Sammy, did you tell him about recess?"
"Kickball!" Sam screamed. "I forgot!"
John smiled fondly at his youngest son. "It sounds like you had a lot of fun today, Sammy. I'm sorry I missed it. I'll make it next year for sure."
"Daddy?" Sam asked tentatively, burying his face in his father's shirt.
His voice was quiet. "Can Dean come with me next year, too?"