AN: Okay so I'm trying out a High-school AU I'm fond of these but I've never written one so please please please tell me what you guys think. I've got most of it planned out but I'll consider requests if you make them. I will be alternating perspective on this so the next chapter will be in Cas's Point of view. Alright, that's it i think, on with the story!

CHAPTER ONE- The New Kids Are Weird. I Like Them.

DEAN

"Everyone this is Casper Norrak," The teacher, Ms. Bennet said, "He's new here,"

Really? What would have given that away?

"And I expect you to welcome him properly," She continued to drone on for a while after that but I tuned her out, much more interested in the boy she was introducing.

Weird eyes, what colour are they anyway? Grey? Blue?

I'm snapped out of my musing, when the boy with the technicolour eyes looks up at me, ensnaring my gaze.

Wow. Definitely blue.

He smiles nervously at me and looks back down again. I feel a pang on disappointment as not being able to stare into his eyes.

What the actual fuck?

Dean that's super gay.

I brush off said 'super gay' thoughts and for once in my life try to focus on my schoolwork. Okay that's a lie. I was thinking about 'studying' with Lisa this afternoon. Ah yes, Lisa Brayden. The hottest girl in school, with a scorching hot cheerleader's body and ridiculously sexy 'come fuck me' grey eyes. Damn that girl was gorgeous. Oh and smart and stuff but mostly hot. Very, very hot.

I'm once more distracted by the new kid when he speaks for the first time.

"Do you have anything to share with the class Casper?" the boring teacher asks. I look into his eyes and see that there is something he very much wants to say, but he refrains and instead says;

"Not particularly." His voice is slightly deeper than one would expect from the tall and lean boy and carries a warmth to it despite the fact his tone is one of utter boredom.

"Very well, find a seat," She tells him, shuffling off to behind her desk as Casper looked around the room, his electric blue eyes landing on the only empty seat in the room. The one beside me. A little part of me is thrilled but I get that part and beat it into a pulp before locking it away in the back of my mind.

"Hi, I'm Dean," I say offering my hand to him as he sits down.

"Cast-Casper," He says, catching on his name. He smiles at me and gingerly takes my hand. When our skin touches I feel warmth wash over me and for some reason the shadows behind Casper don't look right, like there's something missing. I stare at him dumbly for a few seconds before placing my hand under my desk and continuing the conversation.

"Ah so where are you from, Cas?"

"Up north," He answers, smiling to himself after a long pause.

"Cool, so what brings you down to Lawrence?"

"My parents thought it would be good for my siblings and I to spend some time with our Aunt,"

"You've got siblings?" I ask, legitimately interested and honestly grasping at any chance to sing Sammy's praises.

"Yeah, a lot. It's just Anna, Hannah, Alfie and Sebastian living down here now though, our older siblings got to stay with Dad," He says before quickly falling silent, seeming to think he'd said too much, "Do you have any?" He asks abruptly

"Ah yeah, just one. Sammy, he goes here and I'm pretty sure all the teachers hate him," I joke

"Why?" Cas asks a crease forming in his brow that was kind of adorable. Like Sammy style adorable though.

"Oh he's just really smart and they get annoyed when he corrects them," I grin.

"He sounds wonderful," as smiles back.

"If you boys are finished I'd like to get on with my lesson," Ms. Bennet says tersely, ending our conversation. Cas and I share a bashful look that says 'Whoops,' and we turn out attention to her. Well Cas does, I'm busy studying him. The way his raven hair defies gravity and how he sits slightly hunched over as it wearing a heavy backpack. But what really captures me is how I have a feeling of wrongness about the way he looks. As if there's something not quite right. Like something is missing. I spend the whole lesson trying to figure it out but fail miserably. I do however successfully manage to etch each detail of him into my mind, from the number of loose threads on his navy sweater (eleven) to the fact that both his leather shoes have lopsided laces that lean to the left. I could later even recall the number of pockets on his tan trench coat he'd hung over the back of his chair after neatly folding (six on the outside, two on the inside)