It was recess time and Vyacheslav Winchester was panicking, hidden under one of the metal park benches. He was pretty sure that the first day of kindergarten wasn't supposed to run like a bout of medieval torture. He'd tried telling the other kids how to pronounce his name, he'd tried to get them to use his nickname Vacha, and he'd even tried to simplify it to Slava like his daddy called him. That awful Jackson Whittemore had taken it upon himself to encourage to other children to call him coleslaw. To his abject horror, it seemed to have stuck.
A gentle knocking was made against the seat of the bench with what sounded like a small hand. He looked up and found himself face to face with one of the boys from his class, the one that had seemed a little slow, but kind. He had gotten a taste of Jackson's mirth because of the inhaler he carried and frequently used. He had a dopey little grin on his face.
"Hi, I'm Scott. You know that you sit on top of the bench right?"
"No way, seriously?" the boy looked at him like he was the stupidest thing on two feet, but then laughed, a merry chiming little noise "Dude come on, you're going to get sick sitting under there. My brother Derek says that only homeless people are allowed to go under benches, and that they leave their homeless disease there so hurry and get out up!" he had started out playfully, but by the end the boy seemed very serious, and though he was highly skeptical, Vyacheslav crawled out and joined him on the bench.
Scott pointed at one of the big boys playing soccer out on the field "That's my brother Derek, he's kinda a jerk sometimes, but he's super smart!" He listened to the boy chatter for a while, and paid close attention to the older boy. His hair was black and, like Scott had attested, he had an air of instinct about him. It may have been because he was focused at his game, but he was quick and calculating, and Slava could see that he played intelligently. Of course moments later he was tripping over his own feet, and they both giggled at that.
Scott turned to him "So what's your name again? I know it's hard to say, but I want to be friends so I need something to call you" They shared small but happy smiles "It's VEEA-CHEH-SLAH-VAH" Scott mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like coleslaw, and looked rather sheepish "No maybe try Vacha" This Scott could handle, but it sounded ridiculous coming from his mouth "Okay it's just weird when you say it. Try Slava. It's just SLAH-VAH" again this sounded absurdly silly coming from the young boy's mouth, and both boys sighed, becoming disheartened
"Well, before I was adopted my last name was Stilinski. How about you just call me Stiles?" Scott said it and beamed at him. For the rest of the day Scott and Stiles had both used his name like they were trying to wear it out. Their teacher was secretly pleased that he'd found something easier to be called, and Jackson still called him coleslaw, but he had a brand new friend and his prospects were looking up.
When school let out that afternoon, he ran to the front where his daddies had said they would meet him. It was only a few minutes later that the shiny black impala, old but still in impeccable condition, pulled up to the sidewalk. Castiel, from the passenger seat, puled him over his lap and sat him down in the middle.
The boy cuddled into his side, and they each wrapped an arm around him. As Dean pulled her out of the parking lot, took a moment to fluff his hair and ask about his first day. Cas pitched in as well, they were eager to hear about his teachers and classmates and any friends he had made. And he smiled, because he had a good story to tell and another good day to look forward to tomorrow.