A/N: This is my first time writing Destiel and it's a High School AU. I'm not even sorry.
Whack! I shoved the door back into place as hard as I could. As much as it hurt me to possibly injure the Impala, it was worth the small rebellion against my dad. John leaned forward so that only his face was visible to me. "Look, Dean, we're only here for a bit. Try to enjoy it?" I crossed my arms in protest. He sighed, his shoulders sagging. I felt a brief twinge of guilt. "Just… Look after Sam." My promise to do so was lost in the roar of the engine as it pulled away.
I exhaled as I turned to find my charge. Sam had his nose buried in some book about World War II. I ruffled his mop of hair. "Come on, nerd. Let's go raise some hell." I smiled half-heartedly as I shoved him forward. Sam trudged forward. He hated starting new schools as much as I did. The first day was always the worst. Things would get better for Sam, though. They always did.
I wandered into first period with my bag slung lazily against my back. English with Mrs. Williams was to be my first torture everyday for the next two weeks. The old woman stood there appraising me, probably trying to figure out if I'd been there for the last two months. I pushed the note that would explain my sudden appearance into her hands. She adjusted her glasses and muttered what she was reading to herself. After what felt like a decade, she finally nodded in approval handed me my note back and gestured for me to sit wherever I please.
I hiked my bag higher on my back and began the long meander about the room, looking for an acceptable seat. A blond reapplying her lipstick looks briefly up from her mirror as I pass by. A nerdy guy shifts uncomfortably and a jock assesses my potential athletic ability. Joke's on him, the last time I tossed a baseball was when I was ten. I settle for an empty seat near the back next to a pretty red head.
"Dean Winchester," I say to her. She smiles quickly and tells me her name is Anna. I nod, hoping the action will seal the name in my brain. The bell rings, signaling the start of class. I turn my attention Mrs. Williams as she starts prattling off information about assignments and the upcoming unit, which was to be poetry. I couldn't stop the exasperated moan from leaving my lips. There was not much on this earth I hated more than poetry, and I hate a lot of things. Unfortunately, it was heard by the old woman, who I expected to have far worse hearing than the usual teacher. She turned her focus to me, ready to most likely publicly embarrass me.
"And before I forget, we have a new st-" Mrs. Williams did not get a chance to introduce me to the class. Bang! The door to the classroom swings open and hits against the wall. The blond lets out a sharp squeak and has the bad luck to smear her lipstick across her face, giving her a Joker-esque look. I can't say I wasn't startled as a bedraggled boy burst into the class. His face was wild, his eyes wide and bright. "Oh, for God's sake! This is the third time you're late this month Mr. Novak." He mumbled a quiet apology. "What was I saying? Right, this poetry project will be worth 35% of your grade…"
He took his cue to head towards his chair. Coincidentally, I was in his seat. He stopped short of the desk. We stared at each other for a brief few seconds. I silently cursed Anna for not warning me the space was reserved. I thought that he might fight me for this spot or make big deal of it as every other douche has before. Instead, he shrugged and slipped into the seat to the left of me. Relief sprouted inside of me.
Mrs. Williams had shaken off the incident and droned on about symbolism and how the color blue has so many implications. I chose to not shake it off so quickly as I fell into inattentiveness.
I walked into the noisy lunch room, or, as the school called it, the "Commons". I pushed through hoards of perpetually hungry adolescents to get to Sam. There were more students in this school than the usual seven hundred populations I was used to. I sat down across from him with a thud, my body glad for the rest. "How goes it, little bro?" I asked as I swiped a roll from his tray. I didn't particularly trust school lunches. I far preferred diners and food I had prepared myself, even if it was just something I put in the microwave at the motel.
Sam shrugged. His face was too stuffed with salad to answer me properly, so the shoulders would suffice. I didn't quite understand how there was so much room in tiny Sam's stomach. Maybe he was due for a growth spurt. I hoped not, I liked being taller than him. I nodded in response. "Yeah. But at least it's only for two weeks."
He finally swallowed with a big gulp and said, "You didn't sound all that optimistic this morning." I picked off a piece of the roll and popped it into my mouth quickly. "I mean, you usually aren't that angry with Dad."
"I just hate when we come to Illinois. Something about the state, I guess," I said in hopes of appeasing Sam. I actually liked Illinois. The real reason I had been upset with Dad was that he had denied my offer to do this hunt. He didn't give me the specifics of the case, but he said it too much for me. I suspected it had more to do with him wanting me to watchdog Sam while he made the most of the public school system than with wanting to save my health, but I would never say that to Sammy.
Sam either didn't pick up on the lie or was too hungry to care because he went on to form the perfect bite and shovel it into his mouth. 'It has to be a perfect ratio of lettuce to crouton to dressing,' he always said. I was supposed to say, 'Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Sammy,' and shove some decidedly less nutritional food into my face. So that's what I did.