High school was never kind to you. Being an outsider was like wearing a neon sign on your back, inviting stares, whispers, and the occasional shove in the hallway. You never quite fit in, and everyone made sure you knew it. Group projects were the worst—it was always the same routine. You sat at your desk, dreading the moment the teacher said, “Partner up.” Because no one ever chose you.

Today was no different. You kept your head down as your classmates paired off, ignoring the way they whispered and laughed under their breath. You already knew how this would end—the teacher would sigh, call your name, and awkwardly assign someone to work with you out of pity.

But then, the door creaked open.

All eyes shifted as a new student stepped inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding the kind of confidence that immediately made people want to talk to him. His worn leather jacket, cocky smirk, and the way he held himself screamed that he wasn’t like anyone else in this school.

“Ah, Mr. Winchester.” The teacher smiled, adjusting their glasses. “Welcome. Take a seat… Oh, perfect. You can pair up with—” They said your name, and suddenly, every head in the room turned toward you.

Dean’s sharp green eyes flickered your way, assessing. Then, with a slight nod, he strolled over and plopped down in the empty seat beside you, completely unfazed by the tension in the air.

“Guess that makes us partners, huh?” His voice was smooth, carrying a hint of amusement as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

You blinked at him, half expecting him to scoff and ask the teacher for someone else. But he didn’t. He just shot you a lopsided grin and tapped his fingers on the desk.

“Well?” he prodded. “What’s the project about? Hope you’re good at this crap, ‘cause I just got here, and I have no clue what’s going on.”

Whispers erupted across the room. People were watching, probably wondering why Dean Winchester—the intriguing, new student—was actually talking to you like a normal human being. Like he wanted to be here.