A/N: Every time a sentence is bolded, it's Dean breaking the fourth wall. Warning: Chapter 4 has some smut in it, not hard core though. Hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it! :)
Dean woke up.
When his eyes opened, he realized his room was flooded with the brilliant shine of sunlight, which made him extremely happy. He relaxed back into his covers… then a thought struck him.
Fuck, he thought, it's Thursday.
He sat up, and opened his curtains, greeted by blue sky and puffy white clouds. He shook his head with a smirk. How could anyone be expected to handle school on a day like today? Besides... life moves too fast to miss any moment of it.
He slipped back into bed, where he waited until his parents came up, to initiate Plan Winchester.
"Dean, sweetie?" his mother, Mary, called, "Are you up yet? You'll be late for school!"
Dean coughed a few times, and Mary came in with Bobby, his dad. "Oh, honey. Are you feeling okay?" she asked, feeling his forehead. Dean shook his head, giving the most pathetic look he could. "Oh, my baby," Mary said, stroking his hair away from his face.
"He can't go in to school today like this," she informed Bobby, and Bobby nodded.
"'Ell, normally, I'd say cry me a river, princess…" He joked, "But you look dead. You stay in bed, okay sport?" Bobby smiled, looking down at Dean, "You just get better." Dean nodded, blinking his eyes to make himself seem even more adorable. "How did you get to be so cute?" Mary asked. Dean smiled sweetly. "Years of practice."
Just then, his sister, Jo, appeared at his door. "You have got to be kidding me," she deadpanned, crossing her arms and leaning on the door frame. Their parents turned around. "What?" "Look at him! He's obviously faking it!"
Mary frowned. "Joanna Beth Winchester, how could you say something like that?! Dean would never do such a thing." Dean nodded, and when his parents weren't looking, he stuck his tongue out at her.
She cried out furiously, and stomped down the stairs, yelling behind her, "You guys wouldn't do anything if I was bleeding out my eyes!"
When Dean's parents finally left, he leapt out of bed, sitting down at his computer. He took his phone off the hook, talking aloud. "If I'm gonna cut school, I'm dragging my friends down with me."
Sam's phone rang in his darkened room, the sound reverberating off his large walls. He exhaled in bed as he took his black sleeping mask off, and pressed pause on his Natural Relaxation music. He checked the ID, seeing it was Dean.
Nope, he thought, sniffling, too sick for this.
The machine rang, rang, then beeped, signifying Dean could leave a message.
"You have reached Sam Wesson. Leave a message after the beep, thank you so much for your call." There was another beep, and Dean's voice crackled through. "Rise and shine, Sammy! We've got a big day ahead of us."
He waited for Sam to pick up.
Sam lay there in his bed. "I'm dying," he mumbled to himself, blowing his nose, and after a few seconds, Dean's voice came through the machine again, as if he knew what his best friend would say. "You're not dying, get up already. Don't keep me waiting!"
Dean hung up, and sipped a coke that he got himself. "Yep, Sam's pretty tight, poor guy. Probably the result of living in a friggin' museum his whole life with parents who can't stand each other. He used to be tolerable when he had that girl, Madison. The two were crazy for each other. But then she left, and... well, she was the one keeping him in check. Now he's only got me and Cas. He needs to get out more- today'll be good for him."
Sam lay in bed still, staring at the ceiling blankly. "When Sammy went to Egypt's land..." he sang to himself in a monotone, depressing voice, "Let my Sammy go..."
Dean styled his short hair into a Mohawk-type-thing with shampoo as he showered, singing into the shower head. "I'm so out of love," he sang passionately, "I'm so lost without you!" He rinsed his hair, already in a good mood. He was actually excited.
When he was dry, dressed, and back in his room, Dean typed a few things into his computer. "My sister got a car for her birthday, I got a computer. Seriously unfair."
A bunch of numbers came up. "Yeah, I've been sick a few days," Dean shrugged, indicating the number of 18 beside his name, "But hey," he winked, "who hasn't?"
Over at Truman High School in their small town of Lawrence, Kansas, the period that would have been Dean's first, Grade 12 Literature, began at the bell.
Gabriel was sitting, reluctantly taking out his stuff, and Lucifer was in front of him, his legs slung out in an I-really-don't-care manner. "You seen Dean?" Gabriel asked suddenly, and Lucifer looked up from his playboy magazine for a second, looking around to see Dean's usual seat empty. "Nope."
"Where d'ya think he is?" Luci shrugged, not looking up this time. "Don't know. Don't really care. I just know he's lucky he doesn't have to sit through this shmuck's class." Gabe snorted his agreement, then hesitated.
"What about Sam? He's not here either." "Well, that guy's always sick, no surprise if he's sick again." Gabriel nodded, looking a little disappointed, and Luci smirked.
At the front, Mr. Metatron, the passionate English teacher, sat at the desk, eyeing the class over his spectacles. "Bartholomew?" "Here." "Hannah?" "Present." "Ruby?" "Hey." "Lucifer?" "Hereio." "Gabriel?" "Hiya!" "Winchester?"
There was silence.
"Winchester?"
...
"Winchester?"
...
"Winchester?"
"Uh, excuse me?!" someone called from the back. It was Jessica. "Yes, Miss Moore?" Metatron asked, taking off his glasses. "I know where he went! I heard from my sister's former boyfriend's brother's roomie that Dean is like, really really sick or something, like, dying and stuff, too!"
Mr. Metatron stared at her. "Alright... thank you, Miss Moore." "No problem whatsoever!" she grinned, chewing on her bubblegum.
Principal Zachariah slammed a fist down on his desk, making pencils and books jump on it. "Damn that Winchester! He's absent again! By God, I swear, he's cutting school, I know it! I'm going to find that boy, and, and ruin him!"
"Well, you shouldn't be ruining anybody, Zach, not with your bad back..." the brunette secretary, Naomi, said, shaking her head. Zachariah turned, expression flat, and he gave her a look. "Get Mrs. Winchester on the phone," he sighed, rubbing his balding forehead.
"Well, alright-y then," she said, picking up the phone. She dialled Mary's number, putting it through to the principal, and Dean's mom answered. "Hello?"
"Mrs. Winchester?" "Yes?" "This is Dean's Principal, Mr. Zachariah. I'm calling to inform you that your son has been absent 18 days..." he faltered as he watched the number on his screen drop down, down, down, until it had reached only 'two'.
He marvelled at the screen, jaw dropped, and Mary frowned on the other line, "18 days?!"
Zachariah stuttered, face boiling with rage as Mary kept speaking. "Well... I can assure you that Dean is a very sick boy today!" Zach gritted his teeth. "Mhhhmmm. I'm sure he is." His expression was murderous.
He hung up. "NAOMI!" "Yes, sir?" "THE LITTLE SHIT HAS HACKED THE SYSTEM!" "Keep your voice down, Zach," she said, "Don't want to disturb the classes." Zachariah breathed in, then calmed himself down.
Over at Sam's house, he was contemplating getting up. He finally did get up, frowning. He made his way slowly to his closet, and pulled on a few pieces of clothing. "Mmmm," he grumbled, and went out to his car.
"No," he said, shaking his head and turning around, "No, I'm not doing this, just because Dean told me to, no. I've got a cold!"
He turned around, but after a second, walked back to the car. "Dammit," he mumbled, getting in. He went over to Dean's house, and knocked on the door.
His friend opened it. "Sammy!" "Don't call me that." "You see, I told you you weren't dying!" "Whatever."
They walked in, and Dean sat on the counter. "Okay, so if we're gonna have a day off, we've gotta get my boyfriend out of school too." Sam rolled his eyes. "How the hell are you gonna manage that, when Zach's already on your case?"
Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "I have my ways. Or... your ways," he said, handing Sam the phone. The taller one widened his eyes, and shook his head as he realized what Dean was implying. "No way! I could get friggin' busted for that!" "Come on, live a little! It'll be fun! Plus, it would be too obvious if I did it."
Sam thought long and hard, then sighed, realizing saying no wasn't an option and giving in once again. "Yeah, okay. Fine, gimme the phone."
They dialled the school, and Zachariah picked it up. "Hello, Truman High School, Principal Zachariah speaking?" "Hello, this is Cain Novak, Castiel's father," Sam said in a deep voice.
Zach's face changed, and he grinned impishly, beckoning over Naomi. She hurried over from where she was adjusting her tight bun, and listened.
"Oh yeah?" Zachariah crowed. "Yes. My wife Collette's mother, Castiel's grandmother, has just had an unfortunate accident, and..." there was a solemn breath, "well, she died."
Zach outright laughed. "Listen, buster. I know your little game, and I'm not playing it. If you want Castiel Novak out of school, you're going to have to come right over here and smooch my lily white butt cheeks, you pathetic, unoriginal asshat!"
Naomi's eyes blew wide, and she looked at him. Zach covered the phone. "It's okay, it's Dean Winchester, trying to get his boyfriend out of school," he assured, and Naomi relaxed a little.
"So unless you can show me hard proof that grandma's dead, he ain't going anywhere. So just, roll her old bones up here!" He laughed, "You think I'm an idiot, son?"
Just then, the other line rang. Naomi answered it, and it was Dean on the other side. "Hi, I was wondering if I could speak to Principal Zachariah about my absence?" he asked, and Naomi paled. "Uh... please hold..."
She threw up her arms at Zach, trying to tell him to stop as he ranted into the phone at who he thought was Dean.
"Oh, boo hoo, your grandma died! Well, dickwad, you won't take me for a fool! The game's up, and nobody is going to listen to your bullshit anymore, especially not me!"
Naomi waved frantically, and Zach finally looked up in exasperation. "What?!" Naomi swallowed. "Sir..." she hissed, "Dean Winchester's on line, too!"
It felt as if the world had just collapsed on Zach, and he felt blood rush to his ears. His face heated up, and he felt as if he may stop breathing. "Uh...uh..." He pressed the blinking button, "Yes?"
Dean spoke through, nonchalant as ever. "Oh, hey there, Principal Zach, I'm just calling to tell you I'm sick today, and if there's any homework that I missed, I'd ask for it to be passed on for me tomorrow. Thanks!" He hung up, and Zach pressed the first line button, shutting his eyes.
"S-sir?" he asked shakily.
"I demand an explanation!" Sam fake shouted into the phone, still with the deep voice, "Pardon my french, but you're an douchebag! DOUCHEBAG!" Zach nodded feverishly. "Yes, yes sir, you've got me s-spot on."
On the other line, Dean grinned and tried to contain his laughter, and Sam smiled a little too, before clearing his throat again.
"In case you were unaware, I am a very successful man. I have the power and influence to have you fired on the spot if I wish it!" "I-I understand, sir." "I expect to see Castiel outside of the school in 5 minutes, or else I'll be reporting you to the district school board, and possibly even the police, do you hear me?!" "Yes, yes, sir I do." "Good. Your job is riding on this, Zachariah!"
Sam hung up, and ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh my god." "You were great!" "I could get suspended if he ever found out..." "Nah, he'll never find out!" "This better be worth it, Dean." "Has it ever not been?" Dean smirked.