"Are you serious?" Dean Winchester, a snarky seventeen year-old, placed his forehead against the cold metal of his pick-up truck. He kicked the passenger door and cursed into the cool, autumn air. He sighed, shaking his head, and grabbed his cell-phone. He dialed his younger brother, Sam's, number first.
"Dean?" a groggy voice asked, "Wha- where are you?"
"I don't know," Dean circled the truck. "Outside?"
Sam yawned, before replying, "Dude, you're in so much trouble."
"Yeah, yeah," he shook his head, "My car broke down- can you come pick me up?"
"I'm thirteen, Dean. No, no I can't."
Dean groaned and kicked the dirt beside the road, "Is Bobby up?"
"You're so majorly screwed," Sam laughed.
Dean was late to school the next day. He was up all night being lectured by Bobby, his father's best friend, ensuring hell the next day.
He woke up almost forty-five minutes late, to the sound of his cellphone ringing. He assumed it was some telemarketer, so he just sent the call to voicemail. It wasn't a telemarketer. It was Sam.
"What the?" Dean muttered to himself, glancing at the clock. Not even five seconds later, he found himself struggling to put on a clean pair of pants. He quickly brushed his teeth using some Mountain Dew, sprayed himself silly with cologne, and ran out the door, leaving his school supplies behind.
"Class," Mr. Norbert, Dean's homeroom teacher said, "This is Castiel."
Some kids mumbled a quick 'hey' or 'whatever,' but Castiel could tell they didn't really care. Nobody ever did.
"Well, Mr. Novak, you can have a seat to Mr. Winchester. Dean, raise your hand," Mr. Norbert commanded. He looked around the room, "Dean? Absent. Again?"
He sighed and then turned to Castiel, "It's the first column, third row. Right behind Charlie, the- uh- girl reading, what is that? Harry Potter?"
"Yes, sir," Castiel said, quietly. "Thank you, sir."
Castiel sat down quietly, taking in his environment.
Just then, a kid, covered in sweat and, what looked like, dirt, ran into the classroom, panting. "Did I make it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.
The teacher shook his head, "So close, though, Mr. Winchester. Take a seat and I'll let it slide."
Castiel froze when he heard 'Mr. Winchester.' The same Winchester he was going to be seated next to? He hoped that Winchester was a common last name here.
Dean walked over and plopped himself down next to Castiel, not even noticing that he was there.
Okay. That was a crappy first draft of a fluffy Destiel fanfic.
Mmmn. Okay.
Well then. Yeah.
~DFTBA~ The TARDIS is My Patronus