Trial and Error
Shop Class, Really?
Crowley could not believe this. He specifically chose his classes for his senior year so that he could relax and not have to worry about getting his hands dirty. So as he stood in the hallway outside the door leading to Mr. Singer's shop classroom, he wondered what he had done to deserve this. But the more he thought about it, he realized he probably had done something to warrant this somewhere down the line.
He took a deep breath, straightened his waistcoat, and set his resolve before walking into the classroom. But apparently in the time he had spent despairing outside all of the seats in the back of the classroom had been filled. "You have got to be bloody kidding me."
Crowley grudgingly walked to the front of the classroom and sat down, mindful of not wrinkling his waistcoat in the process.
Then Mr. Singer spoke, "Alright, my class really ain't that hard. As long as you put some effort in, you'll be just fine. And call me Bobby." Bobby's low voice rumbled on as he started reading the names off the roll call list. As each student raised their hand Mr. Singer nodded in approval. When he got down the list to Crowley and looked over to where he sat, his eyebrows raised and he grunted, but continued on.
Crowley rolled his eyes and checked his watch. Exactly 43 minutes until his next class. "Oh bloody brilliant" he mumbled under his breath as Bobby walked by his desk.
"I'm sorry Crowley, did you say something?"
Crowley looked up at Mr. Singer and took in his layers of flannel, worn out jeans, and grubby baseball cap that the older man was wearing. "Just admiring your lovely clothing choice Robert," he replied easily, his trademark smirk clear on his face. Crowley chuckled slightly when the older man verbally stumbled and kept walking.
Then there was a loud shifting to Crowley's right. He knew who it was before he even looked over to the sodding moron who had just clambered in to the classroom.
"Hey buddy!"
Crowley rolled his eyes to hard he was surprised they didn't roll out of his sockets. "Hello Gabriel."
Gabriel's grin was so large and bright it could rival the sun. Which was more bad than good because Crowley had had a late night and could hardly stand to look at it.
"What are your other classes?" Gabriel whispered. Now, Crowley could admit (grudgingly) that Gabriel was smart, and funny. But one thing he was horrible at was not bringing attention to himself. And on that day, it was one of the worst times to do so.
Crowley briefly wondered how Gabriel could be this energetic when he had been with Crowley last night, staying up til the sun came out. "Gabriel, shut your sodding mouth," Crowley grumbled out, wondering why he even bothered. Once Gabriel started talking there was almost nothing that could make him stop.
So Gabriel went on, "Well I've got Theater for first and for second I have-" Gabriel stopped speaking. For a moment, Crowley relished the silence. But then he remembered Gabriel never stopped rambling on. He looked over curiously at Gabriel, who was staring intently at the moose of a kid who had just walked in.
"Sit down son. We ain't got all day." Mr. Singer jerked his head to the seat next to Gabriel.
"Thanks Bobby," spoke the sasquatch as he lumbered over to sit next to Gabriel.
Thankfully Gabriel was still quiet, which would have been lovely on about a thousand different levels, but still Crowley should check what had made him stop. "Problem, Gabriel?"
Gabriel's dignified response was to elbow Crowley in the ribs. Crowley hissed in annoyance but continued on. "Oh hell, what is it?"
Apparently what Gabriel had to say wasn't suitable for public hearing because he took out a sheet of crumpled paper and began scrawling on it furiously. Gabriel slid the paper over and Crowley glanced down to read whatever had been so secretive.
[Can't talk now, I'll tell you later, I promise.]
"Well that's not cryptic," Mumbled Crowley. Gabriel grabbed the paper back and wrote again.
[Shut up! This guy is gorgeous!]
Crowley wasn't sure if it was possible to roll his eyes any harder. "You are completely ridiculous you know," he whispered under his breath. Which earned him a sharp pinch in his side. Crowley didn't flinch. He was used to Gabriel's immaturity by now. Gabriel stole back the paper yet again and scribbled something else. He slid it over and of course Mr. Singer had to choose that moment to walk by.
He snatched the notepaper, filled with writing now and read it over. Gabriel flushed bright red, but Mr. Singer just chuckled softly and raised a knowing eyebrow. He took Gabriel's pen and wrote in surprisingly neat handwriting, [His name is Sam. Watch yourself though boy. The kid's family. And he's about as aware as a block o' wood.]
If Gabriel had been red before it was nothing compared to the deep, scarlet that was traveling from his cheeks to his neck. Crowley grinned and decided to show his appreciation for shutting Gabriel up for once by throwing a quick smirk and wink Mr. Singer's way.
"Thank you Robert."
Apparently the man wasn't used to getting attention from an astounding Englishman like himself because the teacher had developed a blush that could rival the buffoon sitting next to him.
Just as the class was getting bearable the bell promptly rang.
"Erm, well. Don't forget to bring supplies next week and umm. I'll see you all tomorrow," he choked out.
As Crowley dragged Gabriel away from the classroom (and Sam), he thought to himself, *Now this, could make things interesting.*
He took a deep breath, straightened his waistcoat, and set his resolve before walking into the classroom. But apparently in the time he had spent despairing outside all of the seats in the back of the classroom had been filled. "You have got to be bloody kidding me."
Crowley grudgingly walked to the front of the classroom and sat down, mindful of not wrinkling his waistcoat in the process.
Then Mr. Singer spoke, "Alright, my class really ain't that hard. As long as you put some effort in, you'll be just fine. And call me Bobby." Bobby's low voice rumbled on as he started reading the names off the roll call list. As each student raised their hand Mr. Singer nodded in approval. When he got down the list to Crowley and looked over to where he sat, his eyebrows raised and he grunted, but continued on.
Crowley rolled his eyes and checked his watch. Exactly 43 minutes until his next class. "Oh bloody brilliant" he mumbled under his breath as Bobby walked by his desk.
"I'm sorry Crowley, did you say something?"
Crowley looked up at Mr. Singer and took in his layers of flannel, worn out jeans, and grubby baseball cap that the older man was wearing. "Just admiring your lovely clothing choice Robert," he replied easily, his trademark smirk clear on his face. Crowley chuckled slightly when the older man verbally stumbled and kept walking.
Then there was a loud shifting to Crowley's right. He knew who it was before he even looked over to the sodding moron who had just clambered in to the classroom.
"Hey buddy!"
Crowley rolled his eyes to hard he was surprised they didn't roll out of his sockets. "Hello Gabriel."
Gabriel's grin was so large and bright it could rival the sun. Which was more bad than good because Crowley had had a late night and could hardly stand to look at it.
"What are your other classes?" Gabriel whispered. Now, Crowley could admit (grudgingly) that Gabriel was smart, and funny. But one thing he was horrible at was not bringing attention to himself. And on that day, it was one of the worst times to do so.
Crowley briefly wondered how Gabriel could be this energetic when he had been with Crowley last night, staying up til the sun came out. "Gabriel, shut your sodding mouth," Crowley grumbled out, wondering why he even bothered. Once Gabriel started talking there was almost nothing that could make him stop.
So Gabriel went on, "Well I've got Theater for first and for second I have-" Gabriel stopped speaking. For a moment, Crowley relished the silence. But then he remembered Gabriel never stopped rambling on. He looked over curiously at Gabriel, who was staring intently at the moose of a kid who had just walked in.
"Sit down son. We ain't got all day." Mr. Singer jerked his head to the seat next to Gabriel.
"Thanks Bobby," spoke the sasquatch as he lumbered over to sit next to Gabriel.
Thankfully Gabriel was still quiet, which would have been lovely on about a thousand different levels, but still Crowley should check what had made him stop. "Problem, Gabriel?"
Gabriel's dignified response was to elbow Crowley in the ribs. Crowley hissed in annoyance but continued on. "Oh hell, what is it?"
Apparently what Gabriel had to say wasn't suitable for public hearing because he took out a sheet of crumpled paper and began scrawling on it furiously. Gabriel slid the paper over and Crowley glanced down to read whatever had been so secretive.
[Can't talk now, I'll tell you later, I promise.]
"Well that's not cryptic," Mumbled Crowley. Gabriel grabbed the paper back and wrote again.
[Shut up! This guy is gorgeous!]
Crowley wasn't sure if it was possible to roll his eyes any harder. "You are completely ridiculous you know," he whispered under his breath. Which earned him a sharp pinch in his side. Crowley didn't flinch. He was used to Gabriel's immaturity by now. Gabriel stole back the paper yet again and scribbled something else. He slid it over and of course Mr. Singer had to choose that moment to walk by.
He snatched the notepaper, filled with writing now and read it over. Gabriel flushed bright red, but Mr. Singer just chuckled softly and raised a knowing eyebrow. He took Gabriel's pen and wrote in surprisingly neat handwriting, [His name is Sam. Watch yourself though boy. The kid's family. And he's about as aware as a block o' wood.]
If Gabriel had been red before it was nothing compared to the deep, scarlet that was traveling from his cheeks to his neck. Crowley grinned and decided to show his appreciation for shutting Gabriel up for once by throwing a quick smirk and wink Mr. Singer's way.
"Thank you Robert."
Apparently the man wasn't used to getting attention from an astounding Englishman like himself because the teacher had developed a blush that could rival the buffoon sitting next to him.
Just as the class was getting bearable the bell promptly rang.
"Erm, well. Don't forget to bring supplies next week and umm. I'll see you all tomorrow," he choked out.
As Crowley dragged Gabriel away from the classroom (and Sam), he thought to himself, *Now this, could make things interesting.*