Dean woke up the next morning before anyone else. He looked over at Sam, whose bed was on the other side of the room, farthest from the door. After making sure Sam was still there and that he was okay Dean closed his eyes briefly and sighed, dreading the day ahead of him.

After his little pout session, Dean got up. His hair still looked perfect after a night of sleep but his eyes were red and tired. Dean took a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans before heading to the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, vision still a bit blurry, but he could still make out that he looked a mess (except for his hair that looks great no matter what). Dean leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face to wake him up.

still feeling exhausted he took his shower and styled his hair. After Dean went to the kitchen to make breakfast for Sam and John.

Dean was hoping the sound of clattering dishes and the popping of grease didn't wake the sleeping bear that was his father.

Carefully, Dean set the food for his father down and went to check on Sam. "Rise and shine Sammy."

"Shut it Dean." Dean grinned at his brother. "Sassy, I like it." Sam rolled his eyes groaning as he got out of bed. After Sam was ready and ate the food Dean made they hurriedly left the house as they began to hear his father stir from his sleep.

It wasn't the usual autumn chill Dean was used to. Stepping outside he expected to get hit by a cool gust of wind, but instead was greeted by a shining sun poking out from behind the clouds and a mild heat that was definitely out of place for that time of morning. The breeze was light and calming as it crept its way into his jacket.

The closer Dean got to the school the heavier his feeling of anxiety became. He was good at hiding it though. All of the students seemed to pay attention to Dean as he walked through the halls. Most of them were staring at his ass.

He didn't go to his locker, instead going directly to his first period, English. Dean was dreading it, especially since he knocked his book into the mud.

Dean is really the only worker in the house. His dad didn't count since he spent all his money on booze. Dean has to pay for the rent in the apartment, the food, and Sammy's clothing and books. He now has to pay for a new book because of his own ignorance instead of buying food for Sammy. Sammy didn't deserve to have a stupid brother such as him. He should have better. At least that's what Dean thought.

Dean walked in to see a new person talking with Mrs. Moseley, the English teacher. He looked too old to be a student, but couldn't be a teacher either. He was kind of cute but Dean tried to ignore that thought. Dean went to sit at his desk and lay his head on top of his arms, praying that time would go by quickly.

"Dean, there's someone I'd like for you to meet," Mrs. Mosely called out to Dean. He slowly lifted his head, already annoyed by the intrusion.

"This is Castiel, an intern from the local college. He was going to teach the entire class for a week, but I been thinking and I want to make him your personal tutor for the class," Dean raised his eyebrow in surprise. That wasn't at all what he'd been expecting.

"But I already have you as a teacher."

"Boy, you see me doing some teaching in class and you think I'm a magician? I may be able to teach you somethin' but that doesn't mean I can just pull facts out of thin air. You ain't caught up and you don't seem to understand the material."

After Mrs. Moseley's 'speech,' Dean looked past her to the man behind him, his apparent tutor. He looked barely older than Dean. Castiel had dark hair and insanely blue eyes, and a warm, inviting smile on his face to top it all off. He looked too... nice. He was wearing this weird tan trench coat over a white button-up shirt with a tie.

This hot guy would be Dean's tutor which was... embarrassing. It'd make Dean look like more of an idiot than he did on his own. Before Dean could say anything the teacher interrupted, "Boy you curse n' my class an' I'll whack you with a spoon! "

"I didn't do anything," Dean argued surprised. Dean could usually remain composed but for some unknown reason, this teacher always scared him. "But you were thinkin' about it."

Dean paused, surprised by how right the teacher was. Dean then argued, "I don't need any help." Mrs. Moseley sighed and looked at Dean.

Dean was looking at Castiel, staring at his composed face and watching his warm smile falter. Castiel looked at Mr. Jones.

"Sir, may I talked to Dean alone for a moment?" He asked, voice more gruff than Dean had expected. The teacher nodded and stepped out of the room to let the two talk.

Castiel made his way over to Dean and crouched down in front of his desk to be eye level with the boy. "Hello," Castiel greeted warmly, a smile creeping back onto his face.

"I don't need you," Dean told him immediately, not wasting his time with pleasantries and rather getting to the point "I do not doubt that," Castiel agreed, surprising Dean.

"Then why the hell are you talking to me?" Dean asked bitterly, unsure of the older man's goal.

"I am talking to you because I would like to teach in the future and I feel tutoring kids like you would be one step closer." Dean scoffed at his answer.

"Kids like me," he repeated, voice showing the offense he took at the words. Castiel looked surprised at the comment, then backtracked.

"Insulting you was not my intention. I mean that... every kid is unique and learns differently and I am going to have to need experience with all types. You're unique, Dean," Castiel told him, voice never changing from that constant soothing tone. And Dean understood how the man in front of him operated.

"Or you just want to make me look like an idiot in front of everyone." Castiel tilted his head to the side and knitted his eyes together as he tried to process what the younger male had just said.

"Why would I make you look like an idiot, Dean?" He asked honestly, sounding a bit shocked at the idea that Dean would even suggest that. Dean rolled his eyes but explained nonetheless.

"We're in a Shakespeare class full of pretentious asshole seniors who are so full of themselves they can't see out of their own ass. If you tutor me during this class, I'm automatically the dumbest one in here, and you know what happened yesterday. The only thing you'd be helping me with is making more of a fool of myself." Dean finished his speech then sighed looking down.

Castiel understood, remembering how it felt to be the odd-one-out from his own experiences in high school. So, he made an offer.

"Then I'll tutor you after school," he suggested, not missing a beat in the conversation. "At some nice, quiet cafe or something. I can just sit in here with Mr. Jones during the day instead of singling you out specifically," Dean was silent as he thought over the offer.

"No one will see us there," Castiel continued, "I also believe accepting help wouldn't make you look like an idiot. It will only show that you are open to a new way of thinking. Think about it. They will all know the same thing, learn in uniform, but you, Dean, will be different," Castiel explained, hopeful that his speech would convince Dean.

Dean just sat quietly, though, thinking everything over in his head. "I... I have a little brother. I have to get him after school and we both—"

"He can come with," Castiel interjected. Dean bit his lip.

"We usually have to get home straight after school..." His voice trailed off as he thought about his father and what would happen if he didn't have dinner ready on time.

"It shouldn't take too long. Maybe we can have a, let's say, forty-five-minute session? We can cover the basics of The Tempest and go through the first two acts. What do you say?" Silence. Undeterred, Castiel continued. "Would you like me to call your parents and explai—"

"No!" Dean snapped immediately, startling Castiel, then composed himself. "I, uh, no. No, no, I'll talk to them myself. But, sure... I'll meet up with you afterwards." Dean agreed reluctantly. Castiel's smile brightened.

"Great," He agreed as the warning bell for first period chimed. "I'll even buy coffee," he added as he stood and walked over to Mr. Jones' desk. "Ah- Mrs. Moseley I um- dropped my book in the mud yesterday and-"

"Dean Winchester, I could just slap you, why don't you treat your things nicely?" Dean was about to answer but Mrs. Moseley continued, "Here a new, and last one, on the house." 
Dean thanked her holding onto the book she set down.

Then students filed into the classroom. Dean put his head down on the desk again, knowing this wasn't going to end well for him.