AN: Destiel Teacher AU! Will update weekly.

Chapter One

Castiel sighed as he entered the school building, hurrying as he knew he was already late for work. His trench coat flapped out behind him as he ran down the school hallway, knowing exactly how undignified he looked but unable to care. He burst into the classroom where he taught History, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

"And then Hitler was all 'actually, I want Russia too', and decided to be a complete dick, go back on the pinky promise he'd made with Stalin, and do the dumbest thing he ever did – invade Russia in winter. As if Napoleon hadn't managed to fuck that one up already."

The class tittered, and Castiel scowled at the man who sat on his desk, swinging his legs.

"Mr Winchester."

Dean Winchester turned to the doorway, smirking – without any actual friendship in his gaze. Castiel glared back.

"Hey, Novak. You're late, so Pam asked me to cover your class."

"I gathered as much. I am here now, shouldn't you be teaching your own class?"

Dean hopped off the desk, Castiel making a mental note to sanitise where he had been sat.

"Got a free period, thought I could help out where some teachers don't quite make it up to scratch, even if they have a fancy ass British degree," the man said, and now the class was enthralled in the conversation happening before them between the two men – Mr Winchester, Kansas born and bred, and Mr Novak, a man who had wound up going to Oxford when he was 19, after his family had moved to England when he was 10 years old, then moving back to America with his partner, Balthazar. The two of them had instantly hated one another – Castiel taking a dislike to Dean's rough, brazen manner, Dean forcefully telling Castiel to 'get that damn stick outta your ass – oh wait, it's your boyfriend's dick and you're completely ruled by it'.

A redhead in the second row turned to Jo, the blonde girl next to her, whispering "I ship it".

Dean, without moving his gaze from where he stood glaring at Castiel, snapped, "I heard that Bradbury! I'll see you in Shop class!" before stalking out of the room. Castiel sighed and made his way over to his desk, carefully avoiding the spot where Dean had been sitting. He straightened up and shuffled his papers.

"Alright, class, where were we up to?"

Dean made his way to the school's carpark, where his classroom was. The garage backed out of the tech block into the parking lot, and he could already see his baby parked there, waiting for him. He slid into his '67 Chevy Impala, lying down across the front seat and switching on the old cassette player.

He had an hour to kill before morning break, and then after break he had to teach.

May as well enjoy his free time.

The familiar strains of Led Zeppelin washed over him and he closed his eyes.

"Fucking Novak," he thought. He didn't know why the guy pissed him off so damn much. Well, he did, but it was still enough to send Dean's mind spinning every time they interacted. Cas – Dean mentally called him that – was blunt, rude, and obnoxiously British even though he'd been born here. It was like he'd had it out for Dean since Day 1, when he'd told Dean that he was being an 'arrogant twat'. Who the hell spoke like that anyway? All Dean had been doing was telling Lisa – the bitchy guidance counsellor – exactly where she could stick her damn therapy she was offering. Dean didn't need therapy, he was coping just fine.

Lisa could stick it.

And it was none of Novak's damn business, which Dean had forcefully told him before then informing him that he needed to get the stick removed from his ass.

Dean definitely did not think about how damn good said ass looked in the fitted slacks the asshole wore to work every day.

Because Dean had definitely not been checking it out.

At all.

Dean scowled at the roof of his car. This was not helping. Just as he reached over to turn up the volume even more, there was a tap at his window. He rolled over, only to see the very face he had been wanting to punch peering in at him with a faint frown. Dean sat up and opened the door of the Impala, letting the music that had been leaking out pour into the parking lot.

"What do you want, Novak?"

Castiel actually – miracle of miracles! – showed signs of emotion, looking at Dean with a black expression before replying.

"Mr Winchester, I feel I need to ask you to refrain from cursing in front of my students. While you are free to do so within your own lessons, I do not encourage such behaviour in my classroom, and you undermined my authority by swearing. Please do not do so again."

"Well, good thing I don't give a shit about your 'authority', isn't it, Novak?" Dean shot back. Seriously? He was asking him not to swear? "And maybe you wouldn't have this problem if you actually showed up on time!"

Castiel rolled his eyes.

"I was running late, Winchester, because of personal reasons- -"

"Yeah, yeah. Too busy getting fucked by your boyfriend?"

Castiel finally gave in to temptation, slamming Dean against the side of his car and bracing his elbow across the well-toned (Castiel determinedly ignored how those muscles felt through the worn shirt Dean was wearing) torso. Actually, his lateness did have something to do with Balthazar. However, it had involved a heated yelling match, Balthazar griping over the fact that Castiel 'never had time for him anymore', simply because Castiel now had a job and was not forced to rely upon Balthazar's income. Balthazar had even asked Castiel to quit the job he loved, simply because he wanted Castiel to be dependent upon him again. Hence the argument, which ended with Castiel storming out of their newly bought house and leaving Balthazar to do God knows what.

Castiel really did not have the patience to deal with Dean Winchester and his bullshit today, regardless of how good-looking the man was. He leaned in so that he was snarling into the perfectly formed shell of Dean's ear. Dean repressed the shudder of arousal that threatened him at the feel of having Castiel so close to him, and the way his breath caressed Dean's skin.

"Do not dare to presume you know anything about my life, Winchester," he growled. "I have had enough of your arrogance and your unfortunate stereotypically American attitude towards me, when all I did was ask you to show some common courtesy to your co-worker, to last me a lifetime. Kindly leave me the fuck alone, before I do something I will regret."

He turned and stalked back in the direction of the staff room, leaving Dean to slump against his car in astonishment before picking himself up.

"Hey! Hey, asshole!"

But Castiel simply ignored him and continued walking, trench coat flapping out behind him. Dean, all of his bottled up frustration, anger and pain from the past few months finally surfacing, slammed the door of the garage, before picking up a crowbar and slamming it into the hood of the scrapped car he had bought off Bobby for a school project.

He spent the rest of the morning break doing that, until the bell rang and he realised that he had a class coming. He sighed, and quickly swept the broken glass from the floor before straightening his shirt.

Fucking Novak.

AN: So what do you think? Let me know!