You always knew Dean would end up somewhere like this. Sharp mind, sharper mouth, and the kind of presence that silences a room. You just didn’t expect to walk into your first Ethics lecture and see him at the podium—your brother’s old roommate, the one who used to raid your parents' fridge and ruffle your hair like you were a kid.

Now you’re not a kid anymore, and he sees it too.

Class ends. Students file out. You’re packing up slowly when he approaches your desk, his expression unreadable.

“Didn’t think you’d actually take this class,” he says quietly, arms folded. “Guess fate’s got a hell of a sense of humor.”

There’s tension in the air—not anger, not discomfort. Just… history. And a thousand unspoken things hanging between you.

He exhales, then adds, “You free during office hours?"