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Language:
English
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Published:
2015-07-14
Completed:
2015-07-14
Words:
2,128
Chapters:
4/4
Comments:
9
Kudos:
55
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Dean x Reader: School Daze

Summary:

The school days sure leave you in a daze, don't they?

Notes:

Note: I never finished this and probably never will finish it. I know it has potential, but I just never had the motivation to write anymore.
These are actually based on my classes in school, so yes, I did take these three classes (duh).
I think there were going to be at least 9-11 chapters, but I never got around to them. Oh well, deal with this half baked story. xoxo

Chapter 1: Bus

Chapter Text

You saw him the first time when he sat on the bus in the aisle next to you. You figured he was the other son of the man that moved in next door to you. You only met one of them. The one on the bus was much shorter than the really tall Sam guy. This one was wearing a greenish brown jacket over his plaid shirt, which was over an undershirt that was just a little too tight for his body. He had that sort of look that drove people away, like he might lash out if anyone tried to pry. Like he’d seen too much.
He looked like a senior, like you, so you lightly tapped him on his shoulder as you leaned over the aisle.
“Excuse me...,” you started, but then realised you didn’t really have anything to say to him except, “You’re a senior.”
“Yeah, I am,” he replied, not really looking at you, but glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
“I think you live in the house next to mine,” you added.
“Probably.” He was resorting to one word answers. You sighed and looked back to your book. Hopefully, Sam would come to break any awkwardness.
“Hey, (YN),” a familiar voice said.
“Speak of the devil...,” you muttered, grinning a little. You looked back up to see the gigantic man walking towards you with a smile.
“Hi, Sam,” you greeted as he sat down next to you.
“You meet Dean?” Dean. So that was his name.
“Sort of,” you said.
“Yeah, he didn’t want to come outside. Too busy practicing his judo moves or something.” You giggled at that and leaned to look at Dean. He wasn’t paying attention.
Maybe you could get to know his some other time.

Chapter Text

Dean was in your history class. You knew this because he sat down next to you near the door when class started. He was only a month behind the rest of the class, but he could manage if you let him copy some notes like most of the other people did.
“You must be Dean,” the teacher, Mr. Zachariah, said, almost as if he were unimpressed. He eyed Dean suspiciously.
“Yes, sir,” Dean answered, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, not really caring.
“First rule in my class: No screwing around,” Mr. Zachariah warned. You let out an annoyed breath. He always told new students this. He looked back at the whole class. “Do the board assignment, and yes, you may work with others,” the class nodded in approval, “so make sure you turn in the work to me at the end of class.” He pointed to one student in the back. “That also means you, Gabriel.” Gabriel held up his hands in defense.
“I always do my work!” he argued, then smirked, whispering to someone next to him, “If you know what I mean.” They snickered as Mr. Zachariah went over to his desk in the corner of the room. The class burst into discussion. Football, relationships, a new episode of a reality show. Any topic you could think of, they were talking about it.
“Looks like that first rule went down a black hole,” you heard Dean mutter as he ran a hand through some of his short, blonde-brown hair.
“No one listens to him,” you said before you could stop yourself. You saw him look at you. You opened your notebook and started the assignment.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you said. Question one.
What colour are Dean’s eyes?
“Green,” you muttered subconsciously. No, wait, that's not even the question.
“Hm?” Dean asked you.
“Oh, I just said...you know, green,” you said quietly.
“Is green your favourite colour or something?”
“No, I just noticed...um, your eyes, they’re green.” He grinned, the kind of grin that seemed a little bit friendly.
“Yeah, I know,” he confirmed.
“Like the greenest green to ever green.” You smiled a little.
“Wow, that green?”
“Just, well...really green.”
“No one’s ever told me that except my little brother.”
“Sam’s your little brother?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know, I just thought he was, you know, because he’s so much taller, that he was the older one.”
“Ha, no. He’s a junior.”
“Not that much younger, then?”
“He skipped a grade.”
"He must be some kind of genius."
"Lawyer genius, sure."
"He wants to be a lawyer?"
"I don't know. He wants out of the family business. Car fixing, engineering. I might go into it, though."
"Sounds complicated."
"A little, yeah." He grinned a little more now.
Question two.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" you blurted. That wasn't the question either.
"No," Dean answered simply, like your bluntness didn't even affect him. "Why, you interested?"
"No," you shook your head, "you just look like you would have a lot of chicks pining for you."
"I'll bet I will by next week," he smirked. "Or maybe I already do." You blushed profusely.
"You kidding? You have a model face. Girls are probably already writing stories about you for history books." You laughed a bit at the irony.
"Well, if they are, I hope they include 'the greenest green to ever green' thing."
"I'm serious about your eyes though. They really are book worthy."
"I look forward to the publication."
The bell rang.
Question three.
Did Dean want a girlfriend?

Chapter Text

"Hey," Dean said, catching you during break time.
"Oh, hi, Dean," you said, looking up from your book. You were sat on the edge of a table, trying to finish a chapter before your English class.
"What're you reading?"
"Shakespeare for English. Romeo and Juliet again."
"You've read this before?"
"Freshman year, sure. Ms. Milton wants to recap the meaning of the play."
"Hm. Must be interesting, though, right?" Dean leaned to look at the words on the page.
"What's going on in this scene?" he asked, pointing to the words on the page.
"Romeo just saw Juliet at the party, but he can't be with her because they're from different backgrounds and families."
"That's not even fair, though."
"Neither is life if it doesn't go in your favour.”
“Yeah, but, you know...just because you’re not in the same class doesn’t mean you don’t learn the same thing.”
“What if they teach differently?”
“They can merge. Make new stuff, you know?” Dean jumped up on the table next to you.
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
“Hey, where’s Sam?” you said, looking up. “He said he’d meet me up here...”
“Sammy?” Dean repeated. “Oh, he’s probably off doing charity events or finding lost puppies.”
“He does charity events?”
“I don’t know what goes on in that kid’s head.”
These violent delights have violent ends.
“You’re life kind of reminds me like some kind of book,” you grinned.
“What kind of book?” Dean asked.
“I don’t know. One of those books that no one reads. But once you really do read it, it’s one of the best books ever.” Dean let out a chuckle.
“You sure you’re not interested?” he joked.
“Not in the slightest, Dean.”
“So, do you, like, write books, then?”
“Stories. Some of them long enough to be short books.”
“I should read ‘em some time.”
“I doubt you’d like them.”
“Oh, really? What’re they about? Nerdy chick falls in love with the handsomest guy in the 12th grade?” You let out a hearty laugh.
“You are so full of it!” you giggled. “No, they’re about, like, vampires and stuff. Not the sparkly dumbasses in Twilight, but like the legend-based ones. Also werewolves, demons, angels, maybe a few hellhounds if it feels right.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a fetish.”
“No one likes that stuff, though. Doesn’t stop me.”
“Who said no one liked it?”
“Ms. Milton. They’re too ‘explicit’ for a high schooler. Even though this is the last year I’ll be here.”
“One person doesn’t like it and so it’s not good enough?”
“Come on, it’s gorey, and heartbreaking, and horrific. No prudish person is going to read that.”
“I’m not a prudish person.” You looked at him.
“You’re saying you like goriness?”
“It depends. What’s the main idea?”
“The fight for what’s right, I guess.”
“Then yes, I do like it.”
“Aren’t you just Mr. Hero, then?” Dean chuckled. Not too heartily this time. Not really anything. Hollowish.
“Come on,” you said, jumping onto your feet. “Bell’s going to ring.”
“Yeah,” he said. “What class?”
“Sign Language.”
“Same.” Dean grinned, signing the movement ‘same’. The two of you walked to class. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam. You craned your head to look at him, but all you could see was a triumphant smile before he disappeared in the crowd.

Chapter Text

You and Dean walked together to American Sign Language class. You didn’t talk much on the way there, only practiced signing before the bell rang. Everyone was situated in their seat. Dean was sitting a table away from you. The bell rang.
“Today,” your teacher, Mr. Cupid (yeah; that was his name), signed “we learn how to sign affection.” (Coincidence?). He spelled out the word affection with his fingers. You caught it easily, though everyone else signed ‘again’ to ask him to repeat it. He repeated the entire sign. Everyone nodded and shook their fists, “Yes.” Then he held up his hand.
“We have a new student,” he said, using his voice, but still signing along. “Dean, please stand.” Dean stood. You stared at him.
“I’m Dean,” he announced, signing.
“I see you’ve already studied some sign language,” Mr. Cupid nodded.
“Yeah.” Dean sat back down. Mr. Cupid took his usual place on the stool behind his desk.
“I love you,” he said, and signed. It looked like the rock n’ roll hand shape, but with the thumb out. Then he pointed to himself, crossed his arms over his chest, and pointed to the class. “Like.” He took his fingers and pulled them from his chest, connecting his middle and thumb into a pinch. “Nice.” He took his right hand and moved it across the palm of his other. You copied his movements, then recopied them. You looked around at the rest of the class. They weren’t really moving.
Except Dean was. He had copied his movements, plus some extra signs the class hadn’t learned yet.
“Good,” Mr. Cupid signed. “Work with partners.” The class stood and chatter filled the room. It seemed most of the students didn’t care about learning how to sign. They talked and talked and weren’t even signing what they were saying. You looked around for your usual signing partner, Charlie. Unfortunately, she was absent. You remembered her telling you she’d be absent because of some work emergency at her job. Instead, Dean flopped down in the chair next to you.
“Sign together?” he signed.
“Yes,” you signed back and nodded. You moved your hands nervously. “I love you.” You did the hand shape.
“I love you,” he signed back.
He didn’t really mean it. This was just practicing signs.
“I love you,” you repeated, but you signed with your arms.
“I love you,” he copied.
“I like you,” you said, pointing and pinching your fingers and pointing again.
“Same,” Dean signed back. You blushed bright crimson. “Kidding. I like you.”
“You are nice,” you signed, hanging your head a little and grinning stupidly.
“You are nice,” he replied. You nodded, dropping your hands.
“Very good, (YN),” Mr. Cupid’s cheery voice came to your ears. You whipped your head up and looked at him.
“Thank you,” you said, smiling.
“Now, when you sign, try to keep eye contact. You won’t see Dean signing ‘I love you’ with your head down.” You nodded and blushed even more, which you didn’t even think was possible. He pat your shoulder.
“He really is Mr. Cupid, isn’t he?” Dean said to you quietly.
“Today, he really is, I guess,” you giggled back.
“You know I actually do like you, right?”
“W-what?” You stared at him.
“You’re an awesome friend.” You let out a breath of relief.
“Oh, yeah. I like you too, then.” You grinned.
For the rest of class, you and Dean sat next to each other, signing back and forth and asking each other questions on how to sign phrases. The bell rang, ending your conversation about...well, you weren’t really sure. Dean was talking about his dad, and then he signed a little slower and his face fell until class ended suddenly.
“I’m...I’m just going to go,” Dean said, standing up quickly and grabbing his backpack before strolling away. You watched him go as he signed ‘I love you’ with the hand shape. You stood at the doorway, signing ‘same’ a little sadly as he walked around a corner.