『ɴᴇᴘᴇɴᴛʜᴇ』

| o n e |

"Dean can you fucking wake up," Sam's voice was loud, obnoxious.
A pillow was slammed into Dean's face for full affect.
"I'm up, I'm up, jeez, cool your dick." Dean said, throwing the pillow back at Sam, tossing the covers off and sitting at the side of his bed.
"Are you gonna leave so I can get dressed, or are you gonna watch me put on clothes?" Dean chided, standing from the bed in just a pair of sweat pants.
Sam rolled his eyes, tossing the pillow into the bed and walking out, swiftly shutting the door, muttering a low jerk.
"Bitch!" Dean yelled jokingly through the closed door.
He chuckled to himself, picking up a wrinkled t-shirt from the floor and putting it over his head.
He took off the sweatpants, replacing them with jeans.
On the way out of the room he scooped up a plaid button up shirt, throwing that over the t-shirt and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
When he got to the kitchen of the apartment, Sam was sitting at the table, munching nearly burned toast.
"Dad already left," Sam said through chewing his food, his hand covering his mouth as he spoke. Goddamn well mannered brother.
Dean was not surprised by this.
"Alright. I say we head out now unless you wanna be late for your first day," Dean said, picking up a slice of toast and taking a bite before scooping up the keys to the Impala.
This had been Dad's car, but when Dean had turned 15 he passed it on to him, while their dad got a different car for himself.
Sam followed after him, shutting the door as he raced Dean down the steps to the street.

_

"Gabriel, we're going to be late," Castiel said for what had to be the third time now.
"Oh, such a crime." Gabriel chimed, rolling his eyes. "Lighten up. It's just school."
Castiel scoffed lightly, getting into the passenger side of the car–it was Gabriel's turn to drive.
"Just school," Castiel muttered under his breath, discontent heavy in his tone.
Gabriel got in quickly, and drove fast, as per usual.
Living only about a mile and a half away from the school was definitely a plus side of things, as it only took roughly 20 minutes. Gabriel pulled into the parking lot, swerving into an empty place to park.
Castiel swung open the door as soon as the keys were out of the ignition.
He landed swiftly on the ground, slamming the car door shut and walking towards the school.

—

When Sam and Dean got to the office to receive their schedules, most of the people had already cleared out.
"How did you not get all honors classes?" It was a boy with medium length light brown hair who spoke. He was short, slightly broad shouldered, and his tone was playful. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder like he couldn't care less if it fell off or not.
"Because I didn't apply for all honors classes." The boy next to him spoke in a subdued tone, his voice deep and low. He sounded methodically calm, like it was his false setting.
Opposed to the brown haired boy next to him, he had short cut black hair, taller by a couple inches, and had his backpack on both broad shoulders.
He wore a trench coat over his outfit.
They turned around one after the other.
Brown hair was looking up, a playful smile on his face, looking as if it were glued there unconditionally. He had hazel eyes, leaning on the spectrum of brown.
Black hair had his head down, his eyes on his schedule and where he was walking.
Brown turned to trench coat.
"That's not like you. You're an obnoxious over achiever." They began walking out of the office, trench coat not speaking. Brown hair gave off a playful wink at Sam before he was gone.
Dean looked over at Sam.
Sam was blushing, his mouth in a tight line. "Don't," Sam started before Dean could say a word, "don't you dare."
Dean chuckled and stepped forward to the desk. "I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam, we need our schedules." He spoke blandly, leaning on the corner of the wall that was beside the desk.
"You boys new I take it?" The desk lady said–the little plaque at the front of the desk read Mrs.Jamison.
"Yeah, we just moved here a couple weeks ago," Sam said with a smile, readjusting his backpack.
She smiled right back and handed over two thin sheets of paper.
"Have a good day and good luck." Sam nodded and smiled again. Sam always had a smile on his face–it was one of the things Dean loved about his little brother.
They turned towards the door-it was being held open by the black haired boy for a short blonde haired girl with startling brown eyes. Her hair, unlike her height, was long and curly. She thanked him and he nodded in reply, no smile ever crossing his lips.
He still couldn't see his eyes, his head down and his messy dark hair hanging down.
They walked out the door, Dean looking at his schedule as the door slid shut.
Period one - Math

Period two - History

Period three - Auto Shop

Period four - Language Arts

Period five - Science

Period six - PE

Period seven - Latin

Dean was fine with his classes, but first-period math was presumably going to suck ass. PE was going to be a favorite, most likely alongside Auto Shop. History and LA had never been a strong suit, but he'd deal. Science was alright, not a favorite, not a hated.
Maybe, just maybe, Dean thought as Sam began to speak about one of the electives he had gotten, maybe this wouldn't be too bad when they left.

–

Castiel was not very pleased with his schedule, to say the least. The teacher he had gotten for math--Mr. Kinnel- hated him. He'd had him last year for Pre-Calc/Trig, and it had been utterly horrendous. This year Castiel laid off on the advanced classes, trying to make his own workload a little easier this time around. Castiel had promised himself that senior year wouldn't be all stress and anxiety. He was going to try and relax. Maybe he'd spend more time with Charlie like he used to, or maybe he'd leave the house other than to go to school. Maybe he could at least try and be happy. If not for his own sake, for Gabriel, or his younger sister Hanna.
But as Castiel spun the new combination into his locker, placing the books inside and being bumped into as people sped by, he realized that this year wasn't going to be any better. Because he still tensed up when someone touched him, he still couldn't speak to Charlie, he couldn't get himself to look Hanna in the eye. He couldn't look at Gabriel the same way anymore, he just couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to, he could not believe that this year would be better.

You can't, Castiel thought very hesitantly, letting himself finish his sentence when he knew there was no point in not thinking it, you can't let yourself have hope.