-BEEP- -BEEP- -BEEP- -BEEP-=

Ugggh, damn it all, just let me sleep. Its not fucking time to get up yet. I've still have like 2 more hours.

Dean glances over at the screaming alarm clock, the red numbers shine much too bright in his newly awakened eyes. - 8:45

''Shit!''

He bounces out of bed and runs to the bathroom in his boxers.

Jesus, its Tuesday. Class starts at 9 today. How the balls am I supposed to get ready and be there in 15 minutes?! Well, at least I'm not a princess like Sammy. Spending the whole damn morning in the bathroom doing god knows what - probably fiddling with that mop of hair of his. But Still! A guy needs some time to get his shit together!

The Winchester quickly brushes his teeth, foam frothing around his lips, making him look a little like a rabid dog. He splashes some cold water on his face, scurries out to his dresser, whips on a pair of jeans and his beloved Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He groans.

Ughh. Looks like no breakfast or shower today, the prof will eat me alive if I'm late again.

He gathers all of his books for the day off of the kitchen table and into an uneven pile, scoops it up into his arms and makes a mad dash for his dorm exit.

Can't be late. Can't be late Can't be late. Can't be late.

He flies out the door and

WHAM!

Next thing he knows his books are no longer in his arms, but scattered all over the floor. And scattered on the floor along with his books is a young, pale, dark haired boy - another student. The boy had been walking down the dimly lit hall to get breakfast when suddenly the door to his left opened up and a charging Dean knocked him over faster than he could say 'Vashta Nerada'. After the impact Dean's momentum and train of thought were gone. He just stares down at the poor guy in shock. The boy is parked on his ass on the ugly, patterned, pink and olive green carpet. He's holding his head like he's trying to stop it from spinning. He's in slim-fitting, dark, acid wash jeans, black converse and a tie dye t-shirt. Its a bit strange but he pulls it off, it suits him.

Weird.

"Oops... Um... Oh my, I'm so so sorry.'' the boy mumbles with his head still in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He takes Dean a little off guard with his deep, gravel-velvet voice. Dean raises his eyebrows a bit and answers in a rush.

"No, sorry man, that was completely my fault. I was in a hurry to get to my class and I guess I kind of body checked you. You okay? Did you hit your head?''

The boy's dizziness seems to stop, he takes his head out of his hands and looks up at Dean from the floor. Hes shy and looks back down at the floor almost the second Dean meets his gaze. But the Winchester got enough of a glimpse to see-

Holy shit, look at those fucking eyes. I didn't know eyes came in shades like that. Its like they blended the midnight sky and the goddamn Atlantic Ocea-

"Its fine. I will pick up your books" Says the boy, interrupting Deans thoughts and shifting to his knees to pick up the stuff.

"Nah." Dean says "Don't worry about it. I got it" But he boy just keeps cleaning. "Well, geez, at least let me help." Dean starts to lean down to grab his stuff but-

"No I insist." the boy says quietly ''I should have been looking where I was going."

"Uh. Okay, thanks." Dean says and leans awkwardly against the wall because he doesn't know what else to do. The guy insists. Dean looks back down at the him and really notices his hair. That is some hair. Dean takes it in as the guy organizes his things on the floor.

What a mess. Not a bad mess- Its like someone's been running their hands through it for hours. But it also looks soft, touchable. Good, its good. Wait, why am I-? Jesus, its just hair, some random guy's hair.

Dean tries making conversation with the boy in order to get his mind off of The Hair.

''So, you new here? I haven't ever seen you around.'' Dean asks, cutting through the silence. The boy stands up with all of Dean's books in his arms and answers shyly.

''Yes, I suppose I am."

"So uh, why'd you move?''

''I transferred from the next city over, this facility has much more to offer.'' He shuffles up to Dean and shifts the books into his arms.

''Yup, I guess its a pretty great place they've got running here, only the smartest, the biggest and the best get in. I'm just here on a sports scholarship, so what about you? You must be a strait up genius like my little brother..."

"Well I wouldn't say that..." The boy interrupts Dean, blushing. Dean can't find a word in his brain other than cute as the pink on the boy's pale cheeks slowly grows."I just put a little extra effort into my classes that's all, certainly nothing special..."

Dean only has a small amount of time to watch the boy's cheeks heat up like a stove top before realizing- "Oh shit! Right! Classes! Christ! Sorry! I've really gotta go! Ahh, catch you later...Um.. name?" Dean makes a questioning hand gesture

"Castiel."

Mhmm... Pretty name...

Woah, shut up brain.

"Wow, well, that's some original recipe shit right there!" Dean says quickly, trying to cut off and hide the thoughts running through his head. Castiel raises an eyebrow at him, trying to appear indifferent but Dean can see he looks slightly offended.

"No, sorry! I uh, I mean original in a good way. Its um, cool... uh, hi, I'm Dean" He manages to balance his books in his left hand for a second to give Castiel a quick hand shake with his right one. "But anyways, see ya sometime, like I said, I uhh, really gotta get to class, you know, um bye." Dean mentally slaps himself for sounding like such a nervous 8th grade girl in front of this random new guy. Dean gives Cas a quick nod, turns a 180, jogs down the hallway, down the stairs, and across campus towards class. Castiel is left standing there, blue eyes wide, surprised at Dean's fast and weird apology, introduction and goodbye. Dean half-runs to class and thanks the lord he doesn't run into anyone else with the big stack of books in his hands.

Jesus, I've got to consider getting a backpack.

He arrives outside of the classroom a couple minutes late. He pushes the door open with the side of his hip and braces himself for the ear-splitting lecture and punishment he's sure to get from Professor Flannigan. But when he steps into the room all of the students are busy chatting away. It seemed the prof was, for once, also late this morning. Dean sighs in relief and takes a seat near the back and sets his books on his desk. And that's when he notices. His books are stacked by colors. His red psychology textbook on top, blue calculus binder on the bottom. He smirks.

Castiel took the time and effort to sort my books into freaking rainbow-order. This guy is one weird cookie.

But weird cookie or not, Dean can't seem to get him off of his mind.

His hair, name, eyes, clothes...that kid just seemed...different.

Professor Flannigan shows up a few minutes later. He's a small and stout, but LOUD little man. He has a troll-face and fuzzy grey hair that sticks out each-and-every-way in crimpy tufts. He always wears mustardy, bright yellow button-up shirts and Harry Potter-like glasses that accentuate his beady little eyes. The Professor apologizes profusely for being late, its "unacceptable behaviour" he sneers. Dean smirks to himself a bit and the Professor starts class. But Dean finds it hard to concentrate. Through the whole class Dean's thoughts just keep wandering back to the new boy...

...

"Okay that's all for today, get to your next class, you hooligans." snorts Professor Flannigan, snapping Dean out of his trance. He was zoned out for pretty much the whole goddamn class.

Son of a Bitch.