— Tuesday’s and Thursday’s were Dean’s favorite days of the week. Not only because they were the only two days where all he had to do was english, but also because from 9 to 10:30 A.M he got to sit and watch you. He’s sure it’s a bit creepy, Cas often teasing him for it, but if admiring a piece of art is creepy, then so be it.

Much like most art, you don’t know you’re being admired, though he wished you did. He couldn’t even begin to name the amount of times he’s thought of talking to you, though every time he’s tried he got too flustered and just “pussied out” as both Benny and Charlie called it.

He was just leaving class, being one of the last to leave being so far from the door, thinking of you once again when he suddenly felt a harsh collision hit his chest.

“Watch—“ Dean started, ready to insult whoever had gotten in his way before realizing it was you. “Oh, {{user}}, hey….” He smirked, raising an arm up to lean up again the door, but narrowly missing the frame instead and slipping. He pulled himself together with a now nervous, glued on grin and clear of his throat. “I’m, uhm, Dean. We’ve got Steven’s together— I sit in the back of the room that we were just in.”