Dean and Sam sat at a picnic table, enjoying the sun that had snuck out from behind the clouds. Sam was doing homework, all of his books and papers spread out around him. Dean sat next to him, watching him as he worked and occasionally helping him work out a simple math problem or two. He may not have been a brainiac like Sammy, but he could still handle helping him figure out his elementary math.
"Dean, how do you multiply fractions?" Sam asked, pointing to a problem on his work sheet. Dean scooted closer to get a better look.
"You have to find a common denominator," Dean explained, picking up Sam's pencil. "See, you just have to make it so the bottoms are the same, like this." He worked out a problem off to the side and showed it to Sam. "Make sense?"
"Yeah, now it does. Thanks." Sam took the pencil from Dean and worked out the next one. "Is that right?"
Dean looked over Sam's work, nodding. "Yep. Looks good, Sammy. You've already got it."
"If you're so good at this stuff, why don't you actually do your work?" Sam wondered, moving on to his spelling assignment. "You're so smart, but your grades suck."
"I guess I don't see much point in it."
"Why not?"
"Well, half the time I don't even know if we're going to be around long enough for me to turn in the assignments I get. And I'm not smart like you, Sammy. I can only do your homework because it's easy. I'm just not cut out for this school thing," Dean replied, fidgeting with his necklace.
"I think you're wrong. You're super smart. You know so much about monsters and ghosts, I don't even know how you remember it all!" Sam exclaimed.
"That stuff doesn't exactly help me with school."
"Either way, I think you're smart."
"As long as someone does."
Sam went back to working in silence and Dean went back to supervising. Every once in a while, Sam would ask him how to spell a word, and Dean would write it out for him. Otherwise, it was quiet. Just as Dean was going to suggest that they pack up and head home, a huge gust of wind picked up from behind. This sent Sam's papers flying.
"No!" Sam cried, doing his best to catch all the papers dancing in the air. Dean managed to secure most of them, but one flew out of his grasp.
"Don't worry Sammy! I'll get it!" Dean yelled, taking off after it. It ran away from him, heading towards the street. When Dean thought he was going to lose it, that it would follow the wind high up into the sky, a hand shot up and caught it. Dean skidded to a halt in front of the man who captured it, his eyes wide in surprise.
"Hey thanks for getting that. I didn't see you there," Dean panted, out of breath. The dark haired man handed Dean the paper, his face expressionless.
"You should be more careful," the man rumbled.
"Yeah. Sure dude. Whatever. Thanks again." Dean began to walk away when the man spoke again.
"My name is not dude, it is Castiel. Even as a child, Dean Winchester, you have no respect."
"Well Cas, I have no freaking clue what you're—" Dean began, turning around to look the man in the eye. But he was gone.
"What a freak," Dean huffed, heading back towards Sam. "Come on, Sammy, let's go! There's some weird perverts in trench coats wandering around this park!"