Jensen Ackles (Bad grades)

Letting out a low rumbling sigh of depletion through his nose, Jensen tiredly drags his gaze up from the stack of papers he’s been mindlessly grading for the better part of his morning, his wrist sore from the repetitive motion of marking questions wrong and writing test scores on top right corners of printed paper. Pressing his lips together in irritation, his eyes fall down to the sleek, black military watch adorning his throbbing wrist, staring down at the time with a displeased glare.

He was hoping to get these papers graded before his next class, which starts in approximately thirty minutes. Meaning Jensen only has fifteen minutes to grade– his eyes drift back down to the stack of ungraded papers remaining, a groan working its way to his throat –fourty something more papers.

With a disinterested grunt, Jensen forces himself to sit properly upright in his chair, giving his not so happy wrist an apologetic rub with his free hand before he grudgingly picks his pen back up, forcing his unwrapped attention to focus on the task at hand.

Finishing off a paper with a quick flick of his wrist and writing the lowly fifty-six percent on the top right corner and allowing a displeased scoff to leave his lips, he finally lets his gaze drift down to the name written on the respective top left– Yours.

Jensen's brows instantly shoot halfway up to his hairline, before they quickly furrow together in a hint of bewilderment. Double checking the name once, and then twice. It's definitely your paper, but the problem with that is, you’re one of his star students. He’s never seen you get a score below a ninety-five, yet here sits your test with a contradicting fifty-six percent.

He slowly sets his pen back down onto the dark mahogany of his desk, the throbbing in his wrist being momentarily forgotten as his military sharpened mind tries to come up with some sort of answer to your drastic change in performance. Maybe he didn't go over the material properly? Biology is a trifling subject, after all. Jensen’s lips press back into a thin line, but this time it's formed from concern rather than boredom.

Sighing softly, he turns his chair just so slightly to where his body is aligned with his laptop sitting nearby on the scattered desk. A deep thoughtful hum echoes through his chest as he takes a moment to consider his approach. Finally, he starts typing out an email to you, stating that he’d like to meet with you in his office once class is over in order to discuss the recent test. He gives the email a once over before hitting send, pulling the laptop shut, he rises to his feet and grabs his jacket, glancing down at his watch before making his way to the lecture hall to begin preparing for class.