Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor anything related to it. They're Kripke's characters, they just follow me around.
There was no way in hell Dean Winchester was a Fine Arts major.
He drove an awesome car. He hunted evil. The cops couldn't touch him. He was badass personified.
It just wasn't freaking possible.
Yet, there it was in black in white at the top of the print out the counselor had given him when they'd finalized their enrollment. Right below the God-awful alias Sam had picked out for him: Dean Morrisey ("Really, Sam? What the hell?" He had shouted. "Hey, you wanted me to take care of registration. It was the first thing that came to mind," his brother had smirked, and damn if Dean didn't want to clock him right there in the quad or whatever the hell they called it. Freaking college people had weird names for everything.)
Sam, on the other hand—or should he say Sam Hetfield, the son of a bitch—had enrolled himself as a Political Science major. A respectable field of study that people actually took seriously and didn't get a look on their face like they were wondering if you were gay or not when you told them about it.
Payback was going to be a bitch, that much Dean knew.
But for the meantime he had to grin and bear it as the transfer counselor—whose name he'd already forgotten and who also looked like she was fresh out of college herself—scrambled around her mess of an office looking for that paper she "had just a minute ago" with their class schedules on it.
Dean had to admit, she wasn't all that bad to look at. Take away the glasses and let her hair down and he thought he recognized her from somewhere. Girls Gone Wild: Best of Spring Break, maybe? His suspicions were confirmed when she knocked over a folder and bent down to pick it up. He was pretty sure that skirt wasn't long enough to be considered "professional."
Apparently, he'd been staring because the next thing he knew, Sam was kicking him in the shin. Hard. Dean hissed, cocked his head at his brother, expression the equivalent of What the hell, Sam! They went back and forth silently until the counselor turned back around. They both flashed her a smile, sitting back in their chairs.
"Okay," she chirped, oblivious. "Here are your schedules—they've got your student ID numbers there at the top, next to your names. You'll need that to log into the school's computer system." She then dug around on her desk for a moment before freeing a white envelope from beneath a stack of what looked like applications. "And here…" she said as she pulled two blue and white plastic cards from the envelope, "are your student ID cards. They're only temporary, so you'll need to go to Campus Security to have your picture taken for your permanent ones." Sam and Dean each took their respective card when she offered them. It was all Dean could do to keep from returning Sam's kick when he saw that name again.
The counselor took a seat behind her desk and folded her hands in her lap, smiling at them. "Do you guys have any questions or are you all set?"
Sam returned the smile. "I think we're all set." He and Dean stood in unison and after a quick "Thanks" and a nod, began to make their way out.
Just as Dean was about to reach for the doorknob, the counselor stopped them. "Before you leave, would you mind if I asked a question?"
The brothers shared a glance and turned to face her.
"Sure," Sam said. "Go ahead."
"Actually," she leaned forward, resting her forearms on her desk, "It's mostly for Dean."
Eyebrows raised, Dean buried his hands in his jacket pockets, shamelessly turning on the charm. "Shoot." If this was going where he thought it was, maybe they'd be able to stay in town a few more days, after all.
"What did you say your major was?"
What? "I, uh," Dean began. "Fine Arts." He couldn't get the words out fast enough. He felt like he needed wash his mouth out with soap.
Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?" Through that practiced smile, Dean could see the beginning of a smirk. "You didn't strike me as the type." Oh, God, here it comes.
"The type?"
"Yeah, you know," the counselor nodded and smiled, as if that was supposed to explain everything.
"No, not really." Fed up, Dean started moving for the office door again. "Yeah, well, thanks for—"
"So are you two, like…" She waved a hand in the air. "You know…together?"
"No!" Sam and Dean spat in unison. The advisor jumped, startled.
While Dean still donned a disgusted look, Sam explained, "We're brothers. Well, half brothers."
"Oh. Right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" She sits up straight in her chair, tucking her hair behind her ears as she attempted to recover some of her previous professional tone. She met their gazes and flashed them a rehearsed smile. "Let me know if you have any questions."
Sam thanked her for the both of them as Dean stalked out of the office.
"Dude, what the hell?" Dean said as he and Sam passed the front desk for the Admissions department, complete with scowling secretary at Dean's sudden outburst.
Sam smiled apologetically and elbowed his brother in the side when they'd passed. Dean simply returned the jab and headed for the exit. The way he saw it, if Sam was so gung-ho about working this job, then he could take care of the PR.