AN: So I had this idea. And I wrote it. Not abandoning my other fics (which, if you're new to me, you should totally read), but yeah I'm working through my ideas folder and this one popped out. So here we go. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 1
"Dean, come on! We're gonna be laaaate!" Sam Winchester whined at the door of his older brother's bedroom. Inside, Dean finished the epic battle of 'which shirt smells the least', with his faded Metallica shirt coming out on top. Pulling it on hastily, he stumbled down the stairs in a daze, hair askew and eyes still full of sleep as a result of having only woken up five minutes previously. Grabbing a piece of toast, he made his way to the front door, where Sam was jumping on the spot with impatience. Sam stared at him.
"Uhh, Dean…..aren't you forgetting something?"
Dean looked at him blearily in confusion before realising there was a vital piece of attire missing.
"Shit! Pants! Important!" He shot back upstairs, ignoring the hoots of laughter that were escaping the mouth of his 16 year old brother.
Pants, shirt and jacket firmly attached, Dean and Sam arrived at Lawrence High with a few minutes to spare. Sam shot out the passenger side door of Dean's gorgeous black '67 Chevy Impala with a 'see ya later!' thrown over his shoulder, and Dean parked in the student parking lot, still half asleep.
He made his way into the building, not registering the piercing pair of blue eyes that followed him.
Two hours later, Dean had managed to wake himself up, ditching homeroom to go to the café nearby and buy some coffee. He re-entered school, and headed over to his locker. As he neared it, however, he noticed a cluster of people gathering next to it.
The fuck?
As he walked up to the group, they turned and looked at him, giggling. Dean shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the unusual amount of attention he was getting. Normally people didn't notice him – he fit in the background, not bothering to participate in co-curricular activity of any kind as his life revolved around raising Sam and working for their Uncle Bobby at the auto repair shop. He was just one of the crowd, the guy who went to school, did the bare minimum, and went to work. No social life, no nothing. So why the fuck was half his grade hanging by his locker all of a sudden?
He got his answer as he pushed his way through them and saw the note.
Stuck to his locker.
Stuck. To his locker.
What.
Dean,
I find you aesthetically pleasing and would not be averse to knowing you better.
That was all it said.
Blushing furiously, Dean did the only thing that came to mind – he got a sharpie from his pocket, and scrawled along the bottom of the note in thick capital letters:
WHO ARE YOU?
Grumbling to himself, he stuck the note back to his locker, snatched his stuff, and forced his way through the laughing crowd to his Autoshop class.
The rest of the day, Dean couldn't get the note out of his head.
Who had written it?
Why?
And how had they attached it to his locker without him noticing?
At lunch, he sat with Ash, Jo, Charlie, and Kevin, who of course had heard all about it.
"So, who do you think it is?" Jo asked playfully, nudging Dean with her foot. Dean scowled at her.
"No freaking clue," he mumbled, biting into the sandwich he'd managed to beg off Charlie, who had taken pity after he'd complained about sleeping in. "And I'm just gonna forget about it for now, got shit to do after school"
As one, his friends rolled their eyes.
"We know, work" Ash said.
"Dude, it's important! Sammy's gotta get enough money for college, and Bobby can't afford –"
"Bobby can't afford to pay and your parent's are dead so it's just you," finished Kevin.
Dean glared at him. "Exactly."
Dean finished lunch early and left the cafeteria that day.
He went back to his locker, and saw that there was no note attached. Slightly disappointed, he opened up the locker and put his stuff inside, ready to ditch and head to work early, but as he pulled his hand out, he noticed a piece of paper lying at the bottom of the sparse box.
He picked it up, looking around nervously. There was nobody in sight (thank God). Dean unfolded the note.
I'd rather not say, the note read, but if you insist on pursuing my identity, then meet me at the back of the school field after school. If you don't show up, I won't bother you again. My original note was simply meant to be a one-off thing, I was not expecting a response.
Dean's hand shook slightly as he stuffed the note into his pocket, and his heart hammered.
Maybe he would stay until the end of school, after all.
He got out his phone, and texted Bobby:
Gonna be a bit late, friend's got a thing. Sammy can walk home, right?
He got a response within seconds.
Nice to see you finally getting a life. Sure, it's fine, don't be too late though.
Dean smiled, pocketed his phone, and as the bell rang, he walked to his final class (which was one of the only ones he actually enjoyed), which was art, which was awesome, because if there were two things Dean could talk about, it was cars and art.
During class, he simply put on his headphones, switched on to a mix of Zeppelin and AC/DC, and painted, wholly focused in the task before him. Their assignment for the semester was to create a canvas that depicted what was most important to them. Dean had decided to have a background of black, with swirling greens and blues that crossed over a painting of Sammy in one corner, his parents and Bobby in another, and the Impala in the bottom left. The only thing that was causing him trouble was the bottom right. He had nothing to put there, nothing that stood out.
Dean, by the end of the lesson that day, had come to the conclusion that his life was utterly boring and devoid of purpose.
It was with this mindset that he headed to the back of the field at the end of the day, fully expecting no one to show up – or worse, Gordon Walker to be there, the jock finally thinking he was an ideal target to beat the shit out of. Dean could hold his own in a fight, hell he'd been in a few, but he really was not in the mood today.
He reached the end of the field, and as expected, there was no one there.
With a sigh, he flumped down onto his back, staring at the sky mindlessly.
May as well kill some time before I head to work, I've got a while before Bobby expects me anyway.
I'm an idiot.
He closed his eyes.
Less than a minute later, a shadow fell across him. His eyes shot open, and he sat up, turning to face his new arrival – and potential secret admirer.
His jaw dropped.
"You?"
"Hello, Dean"
AN: Yeah, three guesses as to who wrote the note. Winner gets nothing. I'm thinking of the next chapter being Castiel's perspective on the day? Tell me if you want that , because I'm writing both that and what happens next.
Thanks for reading!
