Dean grumbles as he stalks into the gym. He's supposed to be with Sam, hunting down the ghost, not teaching a bunch of snot nosed brats something they will never need. He strongly resists the urge to break something when he hears the excited, infuriating, obliviously normal chatter. Practically throwing open the doors to the gym, his mood lightens just a little bit when he's greeted by the sight of senior girls in shorts and low cut tops. This might not be so bad.
"Alright," he yells, "line up." the group of girls - and boys, but mostly girls - trickle, yes trickle, into a lazy, broken up line.
"Come on, you call that a line?" Dean shouts. Some majorly pissed off looks are thrown his way as the teens grudgingly shuffle out of their groups and finally into a line.
"Better," Dean nods approvingly, "today we'll be playing dodge ball," he says and a hand immediately sticks up in the air, "yes?" he frowns slightly.
"we're supposed to be playing volley ball." the dark skinned girl in the khaki shorts and loose grey top says.
"I don't care," Dean says, "we're playing dodge ball." He turns around, the universally accepted sign of an ended conversation. The girl doesn't seem to get that.
"Volley ball." She says to his back, stubborn voice grating against his ears. Dean elects to ignore her and her childishness.
"Alright, split into two teams." Dean yells, walking away.
"Sir, Lena's right, we're supposed to be doing volley ball." Some guy at the back of the class pipes up. Many of the seniors murmur in agreement, the few that don't are too busy talking about other things.
"We're playing dodge ball." Dean says, incredulity creeping into his tone. He tosses down a bag filled with bright pink balls.
"No we're not." The girl, Lena, says, not moving.
"Who's the teacher here?" Dean saps.
"You are." Lena replies coolly.
"So do as I say and pick up a ball." He watches in triumph as Lena bends down and picks up a ball. Dean nods shortly and turns his back - big mistake. Something round and fast hits his back - hard. He whirls around to see Lena, grinning widely.
"Did you just-" Dean stares at her.
"No, it was a grumpkin." Lena raises a dark eyebrow.
"What the hell is a-" another ball hits him in the side of the head, "ow!" He snaps at a boy, smirking at him.
"You shouldn't swear sir." Someone else chuckles. Dean glowers at them.
"Stop that." He says angrily.
"But sir," Lena says, wide eyed, "you told us to play dodge ball." Dean growls at her - actually growls.
"With each other! Not me." He snarls. Lena makes an 'ooh' face before grinning again. Dean backs away this time, watching the offending huddle of teenagers cautiously. They've lulled him into a false sense of security when a third volley ball hits him in the back of the knee. He falls dramatically to the floor, scoops up a volley ball and lobs it at Lena. She dodges easily as all Hell breaks loose. Dean honestly believes a bomb's gone off, the burst of noise is so sudden and so loud. Balls of every colour fly all over the place as Dean and Lena partake in an epic battle of two, running and dodging and throwing the bright pink balls amid a frenzy of attacks from stray balls and aimed hits. The siege is stopped short when alliances form, against poor Dean, who, even after serving time in Hell, stares in fear at the group of seniors before him. Balls rain down and he buckles, howling with laughter, under their force.
"Uncle! Uncle, I give up! Volley ball it is." A collective cheer goes up from the students when they hear of their victory, Lena cheering the loudest. The rest of the lesson passes peacefully, though the class do not stop gloating. When Dean meets Sam out side the school after a gruelling day of teaching PE, he's sweating and bruised.
"What happened to you?" Sam asks, smiling slightly.
"I was brutally attacked." Dean complains in reply.
"By the ghost?"
"Worse," Dean shakes his head, "Seniors." Sam doesn't stop cackling until Dean threatens to make him walk to the grave yard.