The Unnamed Feeling (Destiel)

1. Winchester

Dean's chair tipped back precariously, his dirty boots resting on the desk in front of him. His lighthearted grin was met by Mrs. Abbadon's twisted sneer. Everyone knew she was a Miss, but no one dared "disrespect" her. That was, everyone besides Dean Winchester.

"Miss Abbadon," Dean raised his hand, his chair tipping back further.

Mrs. Abbadon wished this period to be over. This was always the worst class. A class full of slackers and troublemakers. But she still had forty minutes with this class. Forty more minutes with, "Mr. Winchester. What is it this time."

"Oh nevermind. I forgot."

Dean grinned, looking around the class. He got a few eyerolls and a few grins out of pretty girls who didnt think he could do any wrong. That was fine, all he wanted was to stall, after all. He didnt really care about anyone's reaction. His eyes shifted to the kid in the back who never seemed to slouch. Or talk. Or blink.

Freak.

Dean's eyes turned back to the front of the classroom. Mrs. Abbadon had gone back to teaching to what could have been an empty room for the amount anyone was learning.

"Miss Abbadon?"

This is the last year you have to deal with him, Mrs. Abbadon reminded herself. The last year.

"Yes. What is it?"

"How much longer 'till this class is over?"

38 minutes, 43 seconds, and 3 milliseconds.

"I don't know."

Dean made a groaning noise, shifting his hands behind his head. "You knwo, I have a game later that I have to leave early for. Being the star quarterback and all, I think its important I be there."

"Your game isnt until 2:10."

"Yeah, so?"

Mrs. Abbadon had to take a deep breath in order to remember why exactly she wanted to be a teacher. Oh yeah. She lost a bet. And now shes stuck with a group of teens that reek of cologne and hormones. "It's 10:00."

"Well I wouldn't want to be late," his chair groaned as he rocked it forwards and backwards, "what if I were to get lost? I'd need some time to find my way."

"Mr. Winchester, if I could dismiss you now, I would. But you're stuck here for another 30 minutes. Just shut up and pretend to listen!"

It only took a second for Dean to burst out laughing. Mrs. Abbadon's nose had started to twitch which only made him laugh harder.

His chair tottered back and forth, threatening to fall and take him with. "You crack me up Miss Abbadon. I'm thinking of taking this class again next year. They can't make me graduate you know."

A small murmur passed throughout the class. Everyone knew Dean didn't have the best grades or the best record, but surely he wouldn't fail senior year. Especially on purpose. But everyone also knew that Dean hadn't really cared about anything for a long time, so nothing was above him.

Dean turned back around to look at the class. Nobody was really looking at him, which frustrated him a bit, but he tried not to care. He was to cool to care about popularity after all. He surveyed the classroom once more, smirking slightly at a few of the cute girls in his class.

His smile faltered, though, as he locked eyes with the kid in the back. Cas. Castiel Shurley. What a pretentious name.

Cas stared back, almost expressionless spare for a touch or annoyance. Dean rolled his eyes and looked away. Filthy trust fund kid. He'd had his whole life handed to him on a platter. He didnt have to work for anything. And Dean was so jealous of that "freak".

He'd give anything besides his brother for a life like Cas'.

A piercing screech rung throughout the class as his chair fell and the next thing Dean knew, he was on the floor. The room burst out laughing. Everyone was laughing except Dean, and glancing over, Dean could see Cas wasn't either.

It was probably pity. At least Dean's father wasn't an absent drunk.

He stood up, a slight shade of red, before smirking. "Cat like reflexes," he pulled the chair back up and sat back down, taking care not to lean back.

The rest of class was bland. A blur of questions from Mrs. Abbadon left unanswered and unclever quips from Dean. Everyone was more than ready to leave when the bell rang.

The door swung open as the class flooded out of the classroom. After only a few steps, Dean stopped and turned, waiting. As soon as he came out, Dean was in front of him, gearing down.

"What was that about!"

Cas didn't reply. He didn't even really seem to acknowledge Dean was there. He just kept walking.

Dean pushed back. "I'm talking to you. What was that about."

"I don't know what you're referring to."

His voice was much deeper than expected. A lot sadder and tired, too. He sounded less spoiled and more done with Dean and everyone else at the moment.

"You know am exactly what I'm 'referring to'. I'm talking about when you just stared at me in the middle of class!"

"If I remember correctly, you looked at me. Now move."

Dean blocked his way, fuming. "Are you gay or something? Don't look at me again." Dean gave him a weak push before storming off.

The interaction left a sour taste in Cas' mouth. Winchester. So insecure and simple.

Winchester.