The Winchesters fell into a routine in Delaware when Dean was 5th grade. They'd been living in a pre-furnished two bedroom apartment there since just before Halloween and Christmas break was fast approaching. John said they'd be staying until the end of the quarter at school, since Sam seemed to be getting along so well and Dean has already started a couple projects that would be due after Christmas break. Dean had even managed to make himself a couple friends. It didn't seem worth it to pack up and go when the boys were actually starting to fit in.
Dean liked his teacher here, Mr. Harrington. He got the special attention he needed without feeling like he was getting singled out. A balance that zero of the other schools he'd gone to have even come close to achieving. In science, the class was doing projects on different famous inventors and their contributions to the scientific community.
"I think you'll like what you find out about your inventor, Dean," Mr. Harrington smirked after telling Dean he'd be presenting on Alexander Graham Bell.
"Telephone guy?" Dean said skeptically.
"Yes," Mr. Harrington chuckled. "Just trust me. I'm sure you'll find something interesting in your research. Something you'll appreciate, that you'll relate to."
"Cuz eleven year olds and the telephone guy are so much alike," Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm sure me and Chuckles got a lot in common, Teach."
"Just trust me, Dean," his teacher said. "You never know."
"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "I doubt it. He was probably super smart and stuff, since he invented things. I'm never gonna do nothin' like that."
"Not with that attitude," Mr. Harrington chuckled. "You have the brains to do whatever you want, Dean. You just gotta believe in yourself a little. Just read his biography in the library, all sorts of interesting things in there."
Dean checked out three different biographies from the town library on his walk home with Sam, since that library was much better than the one at the school. He figured Mr. Harrington would like that he tried to put in extra work. He felt like he actually stood a chance of getting good grades at this school. Grades his dad would be proud to stick on the fridge next to Sam's A+ spelling tests. Christmas break started in two days, and the projects weren't due until January, but Dean never knew if he'd have much time to do it during the actual vacation. His dad could have plans that took him elsewhere and who knew if he'd bring the boys with him or not. He'd heard his Dad talking about a werewolf job in Maryland over the phone, with their family he never knew if Dad would just take off for a week and leave him to watch Sam or actually take the boys with him. He'd learned to be on his toes, ready for anything; just like his dad told him to be.
"You'll never believe what I learned in school today, Dad," Dean declared at the traditional Winchester dinner table, the roadside diner down the street from the apartment complex. It didn't look like much, but Dean swore they served the best burgers he'd ever eaten. "The coolest thing, you'll never even believe it."
"I'll bite," John replied looking over.
"We're doing reports, right, on inventors, for science," Dean explained. "And I got Alexander Graham Bell."
"Telephone?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Anyways, I was readin' about him in school and stuff when he was a kid, and guess what Dad?"
"What Dean?" John played along.
"He had the dyslexia too!" Dean stated. "He invited, like, everything. He was super smart and stuff. He didn't just invent to telephone. He invented a bunch of other stuff be he's the most famousest for the telephone."
"So basically," John said wiping his face with a napkin. "What you're saying is that you could be doing a whole hell of a lot better in class if you tried?"
"I…I guess," Dean mumbled.
"Bell was a very smart guy," John said. "Didn't let a learning disability get in the way of achieving everything he wanted. You got the same one and use it as an excuse for just about everything."
"I do not," Dean protested. "It's not an excuse."
"You can't do your homework cuz you don't got anyone to help you because you have dyslexia, is an excuse to not do it," John stated plainly. "It's nobody's fault but your own for not doin' your work."
"I'm doing a lot better at this school," Dean whined. "Really good. I've got B minuses in Science and Math, and I'm doing really good in history. Just not so good in English, but not as bad as I've done at other schools. I really like my teacher, he's really good. He's helping me a lot. He says I can do better if I try harder so I'm trying really hard, 'sept I'm not really doing any better. But he says that's okay because he can see I'm at least trying."
"I know, Dean," John sighed. "You've told me. Greatest teacher you've ever had. But I've been telling you the same damn thing your whole life and you never bothered to listen to me. I'm going to the bathroom, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Ask for the check if the waitress decides to show her face."
"Yes, sir," Dean nodded as his father got up and made his way across the restaurant.
"I thought it was cool," Sam said when they're dad was out of ear shot.
"Yeah?" Dean said looking up from the table to meet Sam's eyes.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "It's someone like you, kinda. You doesn't know anyone else with your ability, so it's kinda like finding other superheroes."
"It's not an ability, Sammy," Dean sighed. "It's a disability the opposite. I don't have superpowers."
"Oh," Sam said, sounding incredibly disappointed. "So are you super villain, then?"
"What?" Dean scoffed. "No, I'm not a super villain, Sam. What are you talking about?"
"If the opposite of an ability is a disability," Sam explained. "Then you're the bad guy, like Magneto."
"I'm not an X-Man," Dean chuckled. "I'm a regular person. I don't have superpowers or super villain powers, or whatever."
"Then what's dyslexia?"
Dean sighed and squirmed a little in the booth, looking across at this little brother. "It means I have a hard time reading. It's not a big deal; I just read slow I guess."
"That's kinda a lame superpower," Sam said.
"It's not a superpower," Dean said through gritted teeth. "Stop saying that."
"You boys need anything else?" The waitress said stopping by their table, a big fake smile on her face as she loudly smacked her gum.
"Our Dad said just the check please," Dean said looking up at her sweetly. "He'll be right back."
"Alright Sweetheart," the waitress answered. "I'll be right back with that."
"Thanks," Dean nodded as she walked away.
Sam pushed around what was left of his mashed potatoes on his plate as they waited for their dad in silence.
"Are you sure you're not a superhero?" Sam asked. "Like, you know, Batman doesn't have any real superpowers, but he's a superhero. Maybe your power just isn't fully developed yet."
"What are you even talking about?" Dean said staring at this brother, extremely confused. "I don't have superpowers. I have a hard time reading. It's totally different. Can we talk about anything else?"
"Fine," Sam sighed as their Dad rejoined them.
That night in the dark of their bedroom Sam started to whine.
"I'm hungry."
"The kitchen is on the other side of the door, Sam," Dean answered sleepily. "You're a big boy you can get your own snack."
"But Dean," Sam whined poking his arm. "There's no food."
"There's plenty to eat in there," Dean mumbled. "I went grocery shopping with Dad three days ago."
"But I don't want any of that food," Sam continued poking Dean some more. "I don't like that food."
"Nothing I can do about it, Sammy," Dean answered. "It's the middle of the night, just go grab something and shut up. If you don't like what Dad and I pick out, then you should come with us or tell us what you want. We're not mind readers."
"I want an apple," Sam said stomping his foot. "There's no apples."
"What do you want me to do, Sam?" Dean said, finally opening his eyes. "I can't create one. Just deal with what's there. We'll get Dad to buy apples next time he goes to the store. There's cereal, and, like, three different bags of chips, cookies, I think there's still microwave popcorn. Pick something, eat it and go back to bed."
"But Dean."
"Look," Dean said sitting up. "I'm sorry that there aren't any apples, but I literally can't do anything about it right now. Zero. It's the middle of the night. If you're hungry, pick something else. I'm tired, we both have school in the morning, and I can't fix it."
"Why can't we have a normal house?" Sam whined. "All my friends live in normal houses with fridges with a bunch of food in them. But we always live in lame places and we never have any apples."
"Look, kid," Dean said pushing himself up onto his elbows. "It wouldn't matter if we lived in a mansion with a white picket fence and big back yard or one of the crappy motel rooms we usually live in, because in zero of those houses would there be apples. Because you didn't tell me you wanted apples when we went grocery shopping. So either suck it up and go back to bed, or pick something else, eat it, and go back to bed. I'm tired. I don't want to fight with you. Grow up, Sammy. You're not a baby anymore, stop acting like one."
"I'm not being a baby," Sam protested. "I'm hungry and we don't got any food."
"Why don't you go wake up Dad so you can complain to him about it?" Dean asked punching his pillow and lying back down. "Because I'm not dealing with you again until the suns out."
Dean heard Sam sigh and sulk off toward the kitchen. That kid didn't know anything about being hungry. He didn't know how many meals Dean skipped to keep that kid fed. There was always food for Sam even when there wasn't any money left to feed them. Sam didn't get it, and Dean hoped he never would, but man could that little kid complain. Dean understood, to a certain point, that Sam was as much a spoiled brat as their living conditions allowed. He never wanted for anything, got everything he asked for. Dean would gladly give up anything for him, but seriously, that little boy could be a bigger pain in the ass than Dean thought anyone that size could be.
Dean heard the door open again and Sam huff as he climbed back into bed; crunching away at the Chips Ahoy Dean could smell from across the room.
"All better?" Dean whispered softly.
"This will do, I guess," Sam sighed back. "I still want an apple though."
Dean rolled his eyes and rolled over to face the wall, thinking of ways to get his dad to give him five extra dollars before school to buy his annoying kid brother a bag of apples.