Truth be told, John wasn't the most involved of parents when it came to his sons' school life. They moved around so often that his boys almost never had the chance to do much besides attend classes for a couple of months or even weeks and then move on, so after-school activities were rarely an issue.
When they planned to stay in one place for a while though, John didn't mind them; he even encouraged that Sam and Dean tried finding a sport they liked, told them the physical activity was never a bad thing and it was important they cultivated the team spirit associated with most sports. Usually, that gave him cool points in his sons' eyes for a while, so he didn't understand why Sam glared at him so fiercely when he said it again over dinner somewhere in Indiana. Dean just smiled at him and seemed excited, so John attributed the look to another of his youngest's mood swings and shrugged it off.
Sam had been a pain in the ass since their last stay in Kansas, glaring bloody murder at both John and Dean for every little thing. John had given up on understanding his brooding since Sam had been around 5 or so, so he was more than happy to let the kid sulk if he wanted to.
But when Sam came home from school one day shouting how much he HATED his brother's guts and he COULDN'T BELIEVE HIM and he COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, slamming every single door on his warpath, John couldn't really ignore it. Sure, the boys bickered, but they didn't go around proclaiming their hatred for each other like that. So he went downstairs, ready to stop his youngest's theatrics, just in time to see his oldest son walk in the door, holding...
"Are those pompons?" Was the unlikely phrase he found himself uttering, face-to-face with Dean's sunny, unrepentant smile.
"Yeah, you like them?" Dean said, waving them around a little and John just- blinked at him. "I made them last night and Trinity said they looked awesome, so now the whole team's changing theirs. We're like, totally winning the competition this year." His son explained cheerfully. "The team here is way better than in Kansas!"
"...the team?" John said faintly, surreptitiously pinching himself in the arm. Fuck. He was awake.
"Yes, dad, the cheerleader team your oldest son is on." Sam informed him scathingly from the kitchen doorway, evidently still fuming. "The same kind of team Dean entered back in Florida because he's a weirdo who thought he'd meet girls that way. Only he started actually liking it in Kansas and now he's doing it again in here, to compete, because what do you know, he's apparently like, really awesome at it, according to everyone at school without testosterone!"
"There's no shame in being flexible, strong and talented Sammy," Dean said sweetly, in the bored tone of one who's said this many times. "Besides, what sport teaches you more about team spirit than this one?"
John looked from Sam to Dean to the pompons and promptly turned around to go back to his room, leaving his sons' bickering behind him. Turns out, sometimes it's better just to not get involved in some things.