Chapter Text
Sam was a child genius, aged five and in High School already. Sam was excited. This was his first day at school! Sam was taking big boy steps, trying to look confident as he strolled through the halls of Newman High School, Minnesota his small hand engulfed by Dean’s almost-adult-sized hand.
Sam was…
Sam was five and a half years old, his Dad thought he was still four and too young for school. Sam was like Matilda Wormwood in that sense.
John was away on work. Sam had a brother who thought he was too young to be left home alone. One lucky difference between Sam and Matilda.
Dean was, frankly, a little nervous. Sam didn’t exactly have the best attention span and here Dean was, hoping he’d sit quietly for long periods of time. It had been hard, child minders cost too much and Dad wasn’t always around, yet Dean had managed to avoid bringing his brother too school until now.
Kneeling in front of his brother, Dean ran his hand through Sam’s hair. Sammy’s hair, cute curls of chaos that no brush could ever tame. He stood again, took Sam’s hand and entered his first class of the day- hopefully Miss Thomas wouldn’t mind the fact he was late.
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Hoping had never done Dean Winchester much good. He hoped he’d dreamed his mother’s death. He hoped to hell and back his father would quit drinking and start, well, being a father. He had hoped Miss Thomas would see Sam and do the math- she did, after all, have a degree in the subject- and figure out why Dean had been late. Sam decided to hide himself behind Dean upon entering the class and was out of sight before Miss Thomas had spotted him.
“Would you care to tell me WHY you are late, Mr Winchester?” Miss Thomas finally ended her lecture on tardiness in order to find out why her pupil was late.
“My little brother refused to get dressed threw a hissy fit this morning. Apparently, I’m behind the times on the fashion front. Wearing coats in the snow just isn’t the in thing anymore”
“I don’t like this coat it smells like funky motel carpets!” Sam felt he should clarify why coats in the snow just wasn’t the in thing anymore.
Miss Thomas cleared her throat and gestured Dean moved aside.
Stepping so Sam was visible, Dean rushed to explain “My Dad’s too sick to care for him today, we can’t afford pre-school and I couldn’t let him fend for himself. He’ll behave real good for ya, Miss. See he’s even got a notepad in my backpack and a pencil, more prepared than half your students”
Miss Thomas sighed. “Sit in the back and I hear one peep outta you or the child you'll both be in the hallway”.