So this is the 'setting the scene' chapter for Dean. In this story, I've made Sam 2 years younger than Dean, not 4, so that he's closer to Jess's age – I've also made her some kind of genius who skipped several years, simply because I think she's an underrated character. I mean, she was at Stanford, she must be intelligent! Besides, again, it fixes the age issue slightly. I hope you like this chapter, and the Destiel action should start to happen when they meet in the next chapter... stay tuned for that! Please review so that I know what you think, whether you thought it was good or bad
Disclaimer (I forgot this last time... oops) : I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. If I did, Destiel would be canon, Gabriel would be alive, and Metatron would never have gotten away with expelling all of the angels from Heaven... *sob*
Dean squinted at the underside of the car, carefully manoeuvring his hands around to get a better grip on the spanner before twisting it against the bolt again. He grunted as it moved ever so slightly, taunting him by refusing to loosen all the way. Gritting his teeth in concentration, he flexed his fingers before pulling again, his muscles protesting with an aching pain at the effort. The bolt gave a small squeak as it twisted around, and Dean grimaced as it came away, dropping to the floor with a metallic ringing noise. Relaxing, he reached out blindly to pick it up off the floor before pushing off with his legs to send the automotive creeper he was lying on skidding out from under the car.
"Y'alright, Dean? You spent so long under there I wondered if you were ever gonna come out!" A muscular boy covered in oil and grease yelled across the garage
Dean mock-glared at the boy, flipping him the finger as he sat up and dropped the bolt into a toolbox.
"Shut it, Benny! This baby's a beauty, but old cars that ain't looked after properly get kinda hard to deal with."
Benny laughed, picking up a greasy cloth from where it was draped on a car bonnet and wiping his hands.
"Well, if you've finished proving what a puny weakling you are, you wanna go down the pub? We can grab a pint, maybe pick up a couple of chicks, whatever."
Dean sighed, pulling his overalls back over his white top where they had been undone around the waist.
"Sorry mate, I can't tonight, I gotta finish up here then go and meet Sammy – he's managed to get me roped in to do some modelling thing for his girlfriend. Smarmy git."
Benny shrugged, picking up his kit and stepping away. "Sucks to be you. Is your brother still dating that older chick?"
Dean's expression shifted into one of discomfort, and he leant back against the car he had just been working on, resting his spanner against his knee. "Yeah. I mean, it's only three years – sixteen to nineteen – but still, he's a student and she's some genius who qualified early and is already an art teacher at like, the most posh place ever. I don't know, man, he's happy, but it all looks messed up to me."
"You're just jealous 'cause your brother can score a better girl than you."
"Oh, sod off!"
Benny laughed again, before turning to walk away.
"I'll see you Friday then, mate."
Dean nodded after his friend, before standing up properly and turning back to the car he had been working on. He still needed to double-check the undercarriage and fit e new bolt, then he could finally go home and shower before he had to meet Sammy. He loved working in the garage – in fact, he loved absolutely everything about his mechanics course – but it seriously made you filthy. Sometimes he couldn't even see the colour of his skin beneath the layers of grime and oil.
Half an hour later, Dean was striding down the road still in his mucky overalls, making the five-minute walk from the college garage to his apartment. He smiled as he walked, half-closing his eyes as he started to hum Metallica under his breath. The slight breeze felt heavenly against his sweaty skin, and he found himself feeling strangely peaceful considering he was walking down one of the only busy streets in this area of England. Dean continued to walk happily down the road, oblivious to the fact that he had nearly walked in to several other students walking in the other direction, who were now directing glares at his retreating back. Stuffing his hands into his overall pockets, he instinctively turned left down a side road, only opening his eyes fully when he almost tripped over a bump in the path.
The road smelt quite strongly of beer, despite the fact that most of the people in this area were rich or brilliant Academy students who Dean doubted would touch alcohol if their lives depended on it, and there was graffiti scrawled on the walls in vibrant yellow paint. This was the shadier part of town – the part where most of the ordinary college kids like him lived, seeing as they weren't posh geniuses like everyone else around here. Sometimes it got to him how they were almost segregated from everyone else, not by a physical barrier but simply by where they could afford to go and where they were expected to be. As he passed an overflowing rubbish bin, he couldn't help but feel slightly irritated at the inequality in this part of the country.
Still, at least Sammy would never suffer from that – he had his scholarship at the local boarding school, which was the only reason why Dean had ever moved to this strange neighbourhood. Sammy might be sixteen now, but he was still Dean's little brother so he was obligated to look after him.
Finally, Dean turned into the tiny, rundown apartment complex tucked away behind all the alleyways of the little town. Frowning for a moment as he felt around in his pockets, he eventually found his keys and pulled them out, slotting them into the battered door of Red Block. He couldn't help but see the irony in the name that was almost reminiscent of a block in a prison complex. Trudging slowly up the stairs, he came to the door of number 6 and pushed a different key in, sighing as it stuck in the lock. Rolling his eyes, he pushed harder until the key reluctantly turned and the door swung open. It looked like he was going to have to fix the lock again.
Chucking his keys aside as he walked in, Dean shoved the door closed before starting to strip off, throwing his dirty clothes into the overflowing washing basket as he moved past into the bathroom. Turning the shower on, he pulled off his last item of clothing – strangely, his heavy boots – before stepping under the water and sighing happily. This was much better.
Dean relaxed as he stood in the shower, the water washing away all the grime and soothing his aching, knotted muscles. His head fell forward and he gently started to run his hands through his hear, before reaching for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge. Turning the water off for a moment, he rubbed the shampoo into his scalp before putting the water back on and starting to wash it out, relishing in the feeling of the bubbles sliding over his skin. It didn't take long before he was entirely clean, and reluctantly he switched the shower off, not wanting to risk running up too big a water bill. He had made that mistake often enough when he had first moved here.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, Dean wandered back out into the sitting room slash kitchen, before pushing open the door to his tiny bedroom. Wiping away the water that was running into his eyes, he quickly dried himself off before selecting a smart enough red shirt and a pair of decent jeans, pulling on a pair of boxers beforehand. Satisfied that he looked presentable, he brushed his short hair back, thankful that it wasn't long like Sammy's, then walked back out to tidy the place up a little before his brother arrived. It wasn't that he really minded his brother seeing his apartment look a mess, but if he was bringing Jess (which had happened before) he didn't want to give a bad impression. It didn't matter that she probably didn't like him very much anyway – no matter what he thought of the age gap or maturity difference, he wasn't going to screw this up for Sammy.
It wasn't long before the buzzer rang and he heard Sammy's voice over the fuzzy intercom.
"Hey, we're outside, let us up then!"
Chuckling slightly at his brother's impatience, Dean pressed the button to open the downstairs door and opened his own to wait for Sammy. A few moments later, he was met with a whirlwind of hair and muscle as he was suddenly engulfed in a hug.
"Missed you too, bitch!"
"Jerk." Sam replied, stepping back and sorting out his messy hair.
A shaking blonde head alerted Dean to Jess' presence, and he smiled at her, his green eyes twinkling.
"Alright, Jess? Sammy taking good care of you?"
"It's Sam," Jess and Sam responded in unison, and Dean laughed, stepping aside to let them into the apartment. Pushing the door closed behind him, he flopped down onto a broken chair and waited for them to seat themselves on the couch opposite.
Sam curled his arm around Jess as she sat almost in his lap, and Dean almost had to gag at how cute they were acting.
"So, Sammy, how's school goin'?"
Sam smiled, his entire face lighting up. "It's going great! We're studying the quadratic formula in maths, and I came top of my class in the last test – my teacher thinks I'm going to get an A* in my final exam! Oh, and Zachariah had to drop out of the rugby team because he got injured, and the coach said I could try out to be his replacement, which is awesome. I might have to drop out of history club if I joined though, so I don't know if I will yet."
Dean smiled at his brother – the happiness he was emanating made Dean happy, that smile was contagious. He was just glad that Sam was having such a good time.
"That's great! You should totally join the rugby team, with your height and speed and stuff you'd be killer."
"It would be a pity if he had to drop out of history club though, he loves history," Jess commented, "Don't you sweetie?"
Dean almost gagged. "Yeah, but he'd still be doing mythology club and classic literature or whatever, so it's not like he wouldn't be doing any history at all."
"There's a difference between fact and fiction you know." Jess replied patronisingly.
Dean rolled his eyes – he hated it when she got her superiority complex on. Just because he was training to be a mechanic in college didn't mean he was dumb!
"Hey," Sammy replied gently, in a way that said 'be nice!'. Jess instantly quieted down, leaning into Sam and stretching out her legs.
"Thanks, Dean, by the way, for volunteering to model tomorrow. It's much appreciated!" She smiled at him, and Dean knew this was her way of apologising. Strange girl.
"It's no problem, I don't have college on a Thursday anyway. What do I actually have to do?"
"Not much – just pose how they want you to, they know what they're doing. It might all sound a bit strange, but they know what looks best in the end. If they want you to pose topless or in costume, just go with it – I'm sure that sort of thing doesn't make you uncomfortable." Her tone at the end was just a tad too sweet.
"Sammy, what have you been telling her?"
"Nothing!" Sam tried and failed to look innocent. "It's not my fault if you try and sleep with everyone you meet."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid. Bitch."
"Jerk."
"I'm hungry!" Jess interrupted. "Shall we go to that Italian place? We had a great time last time we were there, didn't we Sam sweetie?"
Sam nodded, smiling down at Jess. "The food's awesome – the company wasn't bad either."
She giggled, and Sam leaned down, prompting Dean to clear his throat loudly and stand up.
"Right, Italian it is. I guess that's the food budget for the next week..."
"Oh, it's fine, I'll pay!" Jess chirped, standing up and pulling Sam with her.
"No, you shouldn't have to do that." Dean replied.
"I'm paying." Jess stared at Dean with a steely glint in her eyes. "No arguments."
"Ooh, you got a feisty one there, Sammy!" Dean joked, reaching over to grab his favourite leather jacket from over the back of the couch.
Sammy pecked Jess briefly on the lips, smiling, before taking her hand and looking at Dean.
"Ready when you are."
So there it is please review!