Tattoos

I

Dean slammed his hand down on his alarm clock, hitting his glasses instead. He sighed and picked them up, finding that they were not broken, thankfully, and slipped them on. One look in the mirror told Dean he really needs to do something about the dark bags under his eyes.

Lack of sleep...

He thought, and looked through a small box under his bed. Finding the liquid foundation, he put some on his index finger and gently rubbed it under his eyes. The door swung open and John Winchester, his father, greeted him with a grunt.

"Make-up? Really?"

Dean sighed and set down the small bottle. "I don't want to look like I never sleep on my first day of school, Dad."

John rolled his eyes and messed with Dean's hair and smiled. "You'll do fine, you always have. Who needs friends, right?"

Mary scoofed and walked in, kissing her sons forehead. "Dean needs friends, John. What's life without them?"

Dean looked away and back at the bottle of foundation sitting on his sink. "Perfect..." He mumbled, picking it back up.

Mary looked at her son's back, her beautiful smile fading. "Don't be like that honey...you'll find someone. It's a new school, a start at a new life. Just try to talk to people."

Dean nodded, knowing he won't do what she says. Talking just isn't something he's interested in doing, people are always jackasses anyway. John patted his back, making him jump at the unexpected touch and the pain from the hard slap.

"If today doesn't go by good, we'll go do something together. And Dean, if anybody says one cruel word, call me and I'll shove their own dicks up their asses."

Dean smiled, sadly, and nodded. John kissed his hair and walked back out leaving Dean to get ready.

Being the neat freak he is, Dean prepared and chose an outfit a day ahead, not that he's excited, God knows he isn't, but neatness is an obsession. Nor is he OCD, everything just looks better neat.

Winchester slipped on a pair of black skinny jeans, a dark green sweater, combat boots, the pendant Sam had gotten him a couple Christmas' ago, put contacts in, and spiked up his hair, Dean's neck tattoo just barely showing. Normally he'd just slip on a graphic t-shirt and a pair of crap jeans with converse but it's first day of school so a good impression is necessary, that is unless you want to be bullied all of high-school.

Sam, his younger brother, sullenly walked down the stairs, plaid pajama pants still on and his long hair a complete mess.

"Sammy, school!" Dean yelled.

"Oh shit!" Sam yelled, running back up the stairs and almost falling face first into the floor. Dean grinned and proceded down the stairs, still smiling. Mary and John noticed, their faces lighting up once they saw it since it's rare to ever see Dean smiling.

"I switched Monday to Sunday on his phone," Dean said, still grinning, "and I guess it worked."

Sam came pounding down the stairs, slipping on his shirt and zipping up his jeans. "I hate you, Dean. That trick is old."

"But it works, every time."

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed his book bag, going straight out the door. Dean sighed and kissed his mothers cheek before exiting out the door himself. Sam was already in shotgun, his arms crossed, and scowling. Dean laughed and opened the passenger door to his 1967 Chevrolet Impala John gave him when he got his license.

"Jerk," Sam mumbled, buckling.

"Bitch," Dean chuckled and started the car, not bothering with his saftey belt as Sam did.