Summary: Sometimes all Dean wants to do is sit around and read a book. Apparently people don't agree with him reading when they interrupt him. Blake just wants to sit by himself in the school library, but has other students asking him questions instead.

Blake really hates it when he's trying to read a book, but can't get through one page without having someone interrupt him.

Like for instance, he decided he would spend a few minutes eating with his friends before going to the school library.

He was standing with his two friends in front of a tree and the other group of guys that just started hanging with them for some reason. Unless, they hung out with the other group, but those guys didn't care.

"Would it technically be considered suicide if you get hire an assassin to kill you?" Dylan asked Alex.

That was one question Blake didn't want to hear when he walked up to his two friends.

"Why?" Blake asked confused, not sure if he wanted to know or not.

"I mean, do you have to have a written note or something to explain that you hired an assassin to kill you?" Dylan asked confused.

Blake stared at them. "I attempted suicide by swallowing pills and slitting my wrists. Why would you hire someone to kill yourself when you have perfect resources to kill yourself?"

"You're probably a wimp if you have to hire someone to kill yourself," Alex said.

Blake stared at them. "Anyway, I'm going to the library to read. I need to catch up on my reading challenge before summer starts." He had made a challenge to himself to read thirteen books at school before summer vacation. He was currently on his ninth book, but hanging out with his friends kind of put his challenge on hold.

He went to the library and found a seat. He took a book out of his backpack and opened it to the bookmark.

He noticed a girl walk up to him. She seemed confused and Blake looked at her. She fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. Blake stared, "Do you need anything?"

"Do you think God up there wanted you to cut yourself?" She blurted out and turned red.

Blake stared, "I believe in the Greek gods."

The girl grimaced, "I'm sorry for that." She left the library quickly and Blake rolled his eyes. He didn't know or care if God existed; he just didn't want to end up confused or angry about trying to argue with someone about it.

Some guy just walked up to him and Blake looked at him annoyed to. Either the guy didn't care he was annoyed or didn't see how annoyed he is.

"Hey, I was just wondering," The guy started.

"Yes," Blake urged on.

"How can you hate yourself to the point of that?" The guy blurted out.

Blake stared at him. "Well for one, I have depression. My mind told me that I'm not needed and it kept feeding me lies about how I'm not loved. My mind started nitpicking about everything that I do is wrong, to the point that I couldn't do anything to stop it. I started seeing everything that my mind pointed out." He forced a smile, "Shall I continue?"

"I'm good," The boy left and Blake started.

Dean was trying to read Fahrenheit 451.

The key word was trying.

It seemed like when he doesn't want to be alone, he's alone. It seemed like when he wants to be alone, everybody bothers him. As of now, he's trying to read, but it seems like everyone wants to bother him. For drawings, questions, and just seeing how his day is going.

Like he's going to tell them that his cousin, who's like a son to him, is suicidal and used to cut. What are they going to say? Sorry? For what? They didn't put the knife or whatever in his cousin's hand and made him cut himself.

He decided that reading will push those thoughts out of his mind and tried.

The door to the locker room opened and Dean nearly tossed the book in the air. His heart started speeding up. "My cousin is suicidal and used to cut himself!"

For some strange reason, Dean says the first thing on his mind every time someone startles him. The first thing that was on his mind was that.

"Your cousin is fourteen, right?" Triple H asked and Dean felt his eye twitch.

"Yeah," Dean replied. He looked up at Triple H.

Triple H wasn't sure what he would do if one of his kids used to cut or is suicidal. He couldn't imagine dealing with the stress. "I'm—" He didn't know what to say.

"Sorry? For what? You didn't put the knife in Blake's hand." Dean replied, "You didn't put the bottle of pills in his hand. You didn't force him to swallow those pills or cut the veins in his wrists. You didn't walk in on him barely breathing; I did. What do you have to be sorry for?"

Triple H winced and looked down. He wasn't sure how to react; his employee was talking to him about the darkest moment in his life. "That sounds…"

"Horrifying? I know," Dean replied. "I try not to think about it that much."

He was trying to read the book while his friends were sword fighting with tubes of wrapping paper. They were too loud and distracting.

Dean tried not to say anything. He was trying to read and heard something fall down.

"Damn it! Stop horsing around before you break the bed! I don't want to pay three-hundred dollars for a bed! Again," Dean shouted at them. He shook the book at them, threateningly.

"Why? You're the one tried to use a mattress as a floatation device," Roman said.

"It was $148. I didn't break the bed," Dean replied.

"Once you become a 'father' to Blake, you're no fun." Seth replied and crossed his arms.

Dean grabbed his sports bag and opened it. He pulled out his wooden spoon and shook it at Seth. "That's it, corner."

"What did I do?" Seth asked, confused.

"You called me no fun." Dean said and shook the spoon at Seth. "So corner," Seth did as he was told. Roman snorted; Dean pointed the spoon at him. "Don't make me put you in the corner."

"I'm good," Roman said and sat on the bed.

Dean nodded and went back to trying to read. He heard slapping sounds and he pointed at the two with the spoon. "That's it! Corner!" Roman muttered something and went to stand in the corner.

Seth asked in a mocking tone, "Daddy, when are we allowed to leave the corners?"

"Till I finish reading, dear child," Dean said. Seth let out an exaggerated groan and Roman just face-palmed.

A/N: I'm finishing it here because I ran out of ideas for this story. I may update when I get ideas.

I got using the mattress as a floatation device from a episode of Psych that's called Last Night Gus, which is a parody of The Hangover.