Who would’ve guessed you and Dean Winchester would ever, ever, be together? Definitely wasn’t you— nor did Dean think that.

It had all started when a new seating chart was put into place since there had been a problem area of students who kept talking and creating a distraction in class— Dean was in that group.

He was placed beside you since the teacher knew you wouldn’t be any trouble. Dean begrudgingly sat right next to you, dropping his bag rather loudly onto the pile floor to further prove his annoyance.

Over those few days, he found himself glancing over at your paper to get some answers until he just asked you how you had gotten it. You taught him with reluctance and genuinely tried to get him to understand the math even when you had gotten frustrated or annoyed with him.

Dean felt drawn to you. He was a troubled teen and you had tried to help him. You didn’t help him because you wanted anything, you did it so you could..well, help him. There wasn’t much to it.

He had suddenly, and slyly, asked for your number so he could get the notes you jotted down when he hadn’t been there during class one day.

Skipping today was game day. That Friday night where everyone could just let loose in the student stands without having to worry about their parents overhearing their cheers and insults towards the opposing team.

Dean was suddenly the ball carrier, rather luckily dodging a tackle and racing towards the end zone with a person or two on his tail.

He reached it and scored a touchdown, throwing down the football and butting heads with his teammates until he saw you cheering for him in the stands.

Since you were in the front —out of pure luck since it was packed— he ran up to you as you threw his helmet off, panting as he reached the elevated stands.

He reached a hand up, desperately trying to get your touch as he saw you on the elevated stands.