Dean Winchester straightened his tie; today would be a good day. He would get his interview over with, the man would lean over, and shake Dean's hand. He would get in the Impala, blasting ACDC down the road, and then he would call Sam and they would celebrate together, getting drunk like they did in college.
"You look good, Dean." He said to his reflection, checking out his suit in the mirror. Yeah, Dean would be just fine. He marched out the door, grabbing his keys from the hook in one swift motion. Dean got in the car, pulled into reverse, and started racing towards the Downtown Offices.
He needed this job; Sam being a lawyer and all, Dean needed to at least stay at the same level as his wunderkind brother. Sam had graduated from Stanford, Dean had gone to the army, then received admission to Occidental, not for his brain, he knew that, but for the scars on his shoulder from the grenade that decided to try to kill him. It 's funny; Dean always thought the scar looked like a handprint.
Dean pulled into the parking lot, turned the radio up. It was Eye of The Tiger. If anything could pump him up, it was this song. Here we go, you got this Dean. You will go, brag the crap out of yourself, charm Mr. Crowley with that winning smile of yours, and then you'll be outta here, with a salary with 6 zeros under your belt. Dean smiled, turned off the car and stepped out. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a man watching him. He snapped around, ready to attack, an instinct from Afghanistan. Nope, no one there.
Dean pushed the up button for the elevator. A couple people joined him as he waited for the elevator to arrive. This must be the competition. Dean sized up the small crowd at the door. A woman with too much botox, a man with a stick up his ass, a male model type who looked really afraid of him, and a woman exposing a little too much cleavage for an interview. Dean got this.
The filed into the elevator. Dean pushed the button for his floor; surprised to see only the boob-tastic woman next to him was going to the same floor. The man with pursed lips and the pressed suit was going two floors higher, obviously not competition, thank god. Miss Plastic was stopping two floors beneath him, and Scardy Pants was riding the elevator all the way up.
Dean stepped out after letting the woman out first, so he could stare and see if her butt was as good as her boobs. It was. Dean marched up, and signed in at the desk.
"Mr. Crowley will be with you in a moment, Mr. Winchester, please be seated."
"Thank you very much, miss…?"
"Harvelle," She said with a smile. She was cute.
Dean sat down, reviewing in his head what he would say. Less than a minute later, his named was called. "Mr. Winchester? Mr. Crowley will see you now."
"Thank you, Ms. Harvelle." Dean said with a smile.
She blushed a little, but kept a small smile on her face, and teasing eyes. Dean already imagined that he could get her number easily, but it was a fleeting thought. She was one of those girls that reminded you of a cousin or family friend. Dean turned his attention to the man in the black suit in front of him.
"Hello Mr. Winchester. I've been eager to meet you." He said in an English accent.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sir." Dean said, standing up incredibly straight, for this man was his superior, this is what he had to do.
"Please sit down, Dean." Dean sat as he was told, Crowley sat across from him, pouring a little scotch for himself.
"So, Dean to get straight to the point, you seem like a wonderful candidate, however, we have a lot of applicants similar to you, what could you bring to our offices that would make you different?"
Showtime. "Well firstly, I would like to thank you for the opportunity to meet with you. And in regards to your question, in the army, I was in charge of my men. I would see them from one place to another; if any of them got hurt it was on my head, if any of them went missing it was my fault. That mindset stayed with me. None of my men were hurt, none of them killed. I'm used to leading."
After several similar questions, and more charming responses, the interview had concluded. Mr. Crowley extended an arm. "Thank you, Mr. Winchester. We would love to have you working with Crossroads Inc. We shall contact you later about when you would be starting, and what exactly your position as an executive would entail."
Dean whooped internally. With a big smile, he shook the man's hand with several "Thank you, Sir"s. He would have to text Sam. Today was his day, he had gotten the prestigious job, and he and his brother were going to get wonderfully drunk together. He reminded himself to call his Dad.
With another goodbye and a thank you, Dean had been ushered out into the hallway with a big smile on his face. The secretary smiled at him, and handed him a card.
"I guess I'll be seeing more of you!" Dean said to her, with a genuine smile he didn't often use with women he was interested in. "Congratulations, Mr. Winchester." Ms. Harvelle said. On the card Dean was holding was her phone number.
"That's only for emergencies, Mr. Winchester. You shouldn't call too often."
"I'll keep that in mind." Dean said with a grin as he pocketed her number.
"Bye, Jo!" Dean said as he got into the elevator.
He froze. How did he know her first name? Did she tell it to him before? She must have. Funny, she looked a little confused too, but before either of them could make any thing more of it, the elevator doors slide closed.