Alright, round two. I don't actually have a real set plan for this story. I'm just making it up as I go, much like the writers of Supernatural. Thank you (:
Hope you guys like it!
Review if ya want, or let me know who you'd like to see crudely high-school-a-lized.
Here's the thing; Last year an excited sixteen year old won a contest to audition for as many commercials as they wanted in Los Angeles for three days. Last year, Sam Winchester really wanted to be an actor. Like, he really wanted to be an actor, no one could convince him otherwise, even the theater teacher who told him he was a worse actor than Nicholas Cage and only he should be so lucky to land any roles. Sam Winchester won this contest, and almost shit himself in excitement.
So little Sammy auditioned for everything he could. He figured his height could definitely land him some older roles. Fortunately for him, it did.
Unfortunately for him, he only scored one role.
For a drug called Herpexia.
Yeah, it's exactly how it sounds.
So now, poor Sam Winchester can't go more than three class periods without hearing a joke about goddamn genital herpes.
So now, Sam Winchester does not want to be an actor anymore.
Evidence of all this was very profound by the time he had lurched into his second period class. He sat at the desk he had outgrown two years prior, letting his legs splay out into the aisle, crossing one ankle over the other. After raking his shaggy-ass bangs out of his eyes, he focused on the two snickering kids a seat ahead of him in the next row of desks over.
He rolled his eyes in that majestic way only a Winchester could, and dared to ask.
"What?" He growled, huffing the last consonant.
The boys broke into uproarious laughter before the one with a mullet turned and smiled broad. "Alright, Sam, what lasts longer than true love?"
The shithead next to him could not stop giggling, so Sam snapped out a sarcastic "Oh my god, I have no idea…what?" feigning confusion as he leaned in closer to the trashy piece of crap in front of him.
Said trashy piece of crap took a moment to regain his composure, wiping a single tear from his eye. He cleared his throat, before saying with very much confidence, "Herpes."
Everyone around started laughing and Sam was staring so far up with annoyance that his eyeballs almost snapped free from their reins and rocketed through the ceiling tiles. He slumped into his seat, legs finding their way back to their comfortable position just as the teacher finished their coffee.
And just as the bell was ringing, stumbled in good ole Dean Winchester. He grinned, light reflecting off his chainmail teeth, effectively blinding the teacher instead of charming her. He knocked into two desks, and accidentally elbowed some chick in the back of the head, tripping over backpacks as he blindly made his way to his desk. He all but face planted into his seat, laughing and waving at someone he though was looking, or maybe glaring, at him.
"Dean, where the fuck are your glasses?"
"They're in my pocket."
"Why aren't they on your face?"
"Well, Samantha, probably because I look like a little bitch when I wear them."
"You look like a little bitch no matter what, put them on, you almost knocked out Becky Rosen."
"So? She's creepy. If you really feel bad, just smile at her." Dean laughed, "She'll wet her chair in a second and will forget about her near-death experience like that-" Dean went on to snap his fingers, before he leaned away from his brother and into the back of his chair.
"You are fucking disgusting." Sam muttered, refusing to look over at Creepy Becky.
The teacher shuffled around up front, pushing her red hair out of her face almost every third second. Ms. Milton was grossly skinny, like, Sam was sure she had seen a few hundred bowls of crystal meth in her life. Sam was also pretty sure Dean had tapped that once, so his respect for the teacher was down the drain and that shit wasn't coming back with a plunger. Her eyes were really dark, and her wrists were probably going to break if she ever lifted anything heavier than a binder.
"Okay class," she smiled, the hated for her job and students bubbling under her voice. "This six weeks we're going to be strictly talking about the biology of animals."
A balled up piece of paper soared to the front of the classroom, some students viewing. Ms. Milton's smile turned into a frown almost instantly, and then back to a coy smile that just sung 'I'm a huge bitch.'
"Alright, fine, I'll pull out the birthing video and we can watch that for the next six weeks."
The entire room fell silent.
That shit was nasty.
Dean laughed behind Sam, pulling his glasses out and slipping them on his face now that the room was distracted. His headache already felt better. He just had to go two more weeks with these awful wire things before he could go to the goddamn eye doctor and get his contacts replaced.
"So, Sam," Dean started as Ms. Milton started setting up the ancient projector she wheeled out from the closet. "Got any plans after school today?"
Sam turned halfway in his seat, letting his left arm sit on his brother's desk. "Yeah, actually, I do."
"Oh yeah? You got a hot date with Becky over there?"
Sam cringed, rolling his eyes, "No, dipshit, I've got homework."
It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes, now. "Jesus, Sammy, you are such a nerd."
"Yeah, well, we'll see who's laughing when I'm a lawyer and you're just a mechanic for Walmart."
"Hey! You take that back, Sasquatch! I will never be a mechanic at Walmart."
"Oh yeah, that's right, you'll be a night stocker."
"Thank you!" Dean faked a sigh of understanding relief. Before he could tell Sam that all he would ever amount to was a "lawyer" that worked for the Jerry Springer show to divorce people on cable television, the teacher cleared her voice and tried hard to catch the classroom's attention.
"Okay, class. For the first week we will be going over Herpetology."
….
Sam was going to burn this school to the ground.
"Is Sam going to be teaching this class? I think he has the best knowedge on herpes…."
"…yeah, you know, because he has them!" The two dicksprouts high-fived, the classroom falling into hysterics, even Sam's loyal and trustworthy brother Dean was snorting behind him.
"Herpetology is the study of fucking turtles, moron!"
"Oh, so you're in to watching turtles fuck, are ya?" A kid with chronic acne yelled from across the room.
"Hey, fuck you! Go stick your face in a tub of Noxzema!" Dean snapped, throwing his pencil at the kid's head.
Sam turned around, wringing his hands around his pen as finally the snickers subsided.
Ms. Milton stood with her arms crossed, it looked like she was in her own little world, probably picturing a life where she was married to Hugh Jackman, or maybe one where she wasn't allergic to the cat dander she surrounded herself with to fight off her loneliness.
She snapped out of it whenever some poor girl who wanted to have a real education outside of public school asked what herpetology really was.
"Oh, right, it's the study of reptiles and amphibians…like Mr. Winchester mentioned, turtles."
Ms. Milton continued, talking about snakes and newts and all that other stupid lizard shit.
Dean kicked the back of Sam's chair, trying to get his attention. "You wanna go to a party tonight? I know Friday nights are you're designated homework night….but, that crack-head Ruby is throwing a lil' shindig, and I know you got the hots for her. Also, her parents let her do this shit so there's a fuck-ton of good booze there."
Sam listened, but didn't feel like answering. "How are we going to get there?" He finally asked.
"I dunno, I'll find us a ride. If not, we could just walk."
"I am not walking anywhere in this stupid town, unless it is three miles within my home."
"Then…I'll find us a ride." Dean smirked, proud that he could get his brother to do normal teenage stuff for once.
Sam knew he was going to regret this. His stupid shithead brother would make sure of it.