Bruised: A Destiel AU

Chapter One

Chapter One

They had made it an entire month into the new school year. The weather had started to cool and clubs were just starting up again. The football team would be having their fourth game on Friday where they would hopefully continue on their undefeated streak. Their talented linebacker, Castiel Jimmy Novac-or Cas for short, sat in his first block English class, listing to the chatter of his peers quite as the bell rung, starting class.

“Good morning students,” The booming and fimular voice of the teacher hushed the lingering of conversations between his students. “As you can see, we have a new student. This is Mr.Dean Winchester,” He paused and seemed to motion to the tall, dark haired boy wrapped in a brown leather jacket. His hands shoved in the pockets of his well-worn jeans, he gave an annoyed smile that rose an eyebrow which widened his shockingly green eyes. Before the teacher could ask him to take a seat, Dean took it into his own hands and slipped into the only open desk.

“When we left on Friday, Class, we…” The teacher, Mr.Hunt, attempted to pull his classes attention away from the new kid, who was currently defacing school property by scribbling on the desk in front of him, and back to the board. But Hunt didn’t care what the boy was doing any more than Mr.Novak, who sat in the desk beside Dean, could care to listen to the lesson.

“Mr.Novak,” An annoyed voice breaks the student away from his train of thought. The blue eyed senior looks up in a silent answer of ‘what?’ to which his teacher demands to see if he had done his weekend homework.

“I have it done,” He answers, a bit of attitude towards the teacher who was now crossing his arms and tilting his head in disbelief. The sass in his tone, however, didn’t seem to fit with his innocent face.

“Well in that case, I don’t suppose you’d have a problem with catching Mr. Winchester up to speed.” It was not a question, but an order to which the teenager almost nodded in agreement. He seemed to catch himself, though, and change the action to a roll of his blue eyes before he turned his attention towards Deans green ones.

“We’re reading this,” Castiel states in a deadpan tone as he lifts up his copy of Moby Dick. “There’s a test on Friday, you have to be halfway through the book.” Dean had hardly lifted his head, but gave a little nod of understanding to the boy in the Sports Jacket. Castiel gave another roll of his blue eyes and turned back to the front of the classroom where he zoned out and paid no attention to the lesson which had already continued. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the stuff already.

An hour later, the shrilling bell rung again, this time to dismiss the students to their second block. Castiel, grateful to finally be free, bolted from the room to the bathroom. While most would have simply mistaken the way the jock couldn’t sit still through his first block as a major need to pee, Castiel knew it was something else. If only he could figure out what. Or why he couldn’t stop thinking of the perfect green of Deans eyes.

Dean Winchester, already tired of this school, didn’t bother rushing to his next class-which he wasn’t completely sure it was. He wouldn’t bother to memorize the path through the halls that he would be taking every day for only the next week or so. After his father finished up work, he’d be on the road again, so what’s the point. He took his time moving through the crowded halls where he stood straighter to hold his ground. It felt good to move again, see as he couldn’t find a way to stop his leg from bouncing in first block. He felt as though he could work for hours and still have energy. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t seem to get that Novak kid’s voice out of his head. What the hell was going on with him?

Dean had just hardly made it through his middle two classes, both of which he found useless, without exploding. The history schools taught was useless for a hunter like himself, and he, at 17, already knew more Latin then his teacher did. At least at lunch, which had been nothing short of a pain in the ass, he realized that the jitters from first block had stopped sometime through the day. Overally, Dean found the day to be an utter waste of time he could be spending on guns. He made his way towards his fourth block shop class. Hopefully this could at least be entertaining. He braced himself, upon walking into the classroom, for yet another interdiction to his whole class who will stare at him with less intelligence then a monkey. But, to his relief, the shop teacher only nodded and pointed out a seat for Dean to take. Silently thankful, he slid into the spot assigned and wordlessly took out his notebook where he had scribbled ideas for the first project he had to make up. He had already met up with Mr.Cobain along with every other teacher Dean would be taking classes of for the semester, except for his English teacher who hadn’t been there that afternoon the Winchesters came into town. And like ever other teacher, Cobain had told Dean what he would need to do to catch up with the class and by what date. But this was the only class Dean intended to do that for.