Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.

Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. There's also minor sexism and near violence on screen. There is also racism, including use of a racial slur towards the Desi character. Feel free to back out if need be.

Author's Note: I totally did not write an entire fic just because I got a guest review that made me mad. What makes you say that? On a completely unrelated note, Harini is the Master of Death, not mistress of anything, and backhanded compliments are always rude.

Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Hogwarts (Term 15); MC4A (Year 4)
Individual Challenges: n/a
House: Slytherin
Assignment No.: Term 15 – Assignment 03
Subject (Task No.): Photography (Task#4: Write about fighting for something you believe in.)
Other Hogwarts Challenges: 365 [04](Factual); Auction [12.3] [Waitress/Waiter]
Other MC4A Challenges: SuB [3E](Drought); Ship (n/a)[Bingo](3D - Restaurant); Chim [Dextrin] (Gender Bend); Fire (Smasher); Garden [Blood & Water](Brothers)
Representation(s): Desi Harry Potter/Dean Winchester; the Winchesters
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenges: n/a
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: n/a
Word Count: 1287 words

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Public Service
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To celebrate having successfully forced the current reigning King of Hell to do their bidding (somehow without having his Hounds sent to rip them into pieces), Dean insisted that they eat in an actual pub while they were in Scotland. Sam just really wanted to get back to the United States before someone figured out just how fake both the passports and the visas they used to get into the country were. It would be way more of a problem dodging law enforcement in several countries where it might be hit or miss how many of their fraud skills could actually translate.

But in the end, they did have to eat and Sam couldn't think of a single reason why it couldn't be an authentic Scottish pub since they were already here.

They had only been sitting a moment before a harried-looking woman dropped off a pair of water glasses for them and fished a couple of bundled silverware out of one pocket in her black half-apron. She gave them both a smile that was tired but still authentic. Her tan cheeks darkened further when Dean used his most flirtatious grin in return. Her emerald eyes glittered with mirth from behind the thick glasses perched on her pert nose.

"Hi," she greeted as she pulled out a notepad and pen. "My name is Harini, and I'll be your waiter tonight. Anything I can get ya to start?"

"I'll have a coke," Sam said.

"Make that two cokes," Dean corrected. Then he leaned forward to ask a very serious question. "Do you have pie?"

"We do," Harini answered. Her tone was just as serious as Dean's had been. Her grin grew as she continued in a very factual voice. "You Americans are probably used to fruit pies, but have you ever had Shepherd's Pie?"

"I have not even heard of it," Dean replied. Harini grinned in delight.

"It's a savory dish," she explained, "and it has mashed potatoes as the crust. It's minced lamb and a variety of veggies as the filling. It's my personal favorite as a meal. Definitely enough to fill ya up and keep you satisfied for a long time."

"I'll have that then," Dean said with a lecherous smile that made Harini's cheeks darken again.

"Make that my order as well," Sam said. Harini dutifully wrote down their orders and collected their menus before she left to go get their drinks. Sam frowned at Dean. "Dude, not cool."

"Did you hear what she said?" Dean asked. "She likes to be filled up and kept satisfied for hours."

"That's not what she said, and you know it!"

"Hey, we're staying close by right?" Dean continued as if he hadn't heard his brother. "I say we spring for two rooms and I ask what she's doing later."

"She's not going to sleep with you," Sam protested. "She probably get asked out all the time at work. Don't be that jerk."

"You're right," Dean agreed.

And when Harini came to drop off their cokes, he managed to refrain from making an offer based on her description of their dinner. He was just as polite when she dropped off their meals, too. Unfortunately, Sam had to deal with him sex-moaning over how good the food was. Sam was about to kick him under the table when a man sat at the table right next to them.

"Hi," Harini greeted as she arrived with a water glass and bundle of silverware just like she had with them. "My name is Harini, and I'll be your waiter this evening. Is there anything I can get ya to start?"

"I would like an order of the house special," the man said, "but you should also know that you're really pretty. I would even say beautiful."

"Thank you," Harini replied with a slightly confused note in her voice. "Would like anything to drink with that?"

"I'm just saying that you shouldn't put yourself down like that," the man insisted, ignoring her question. "You aren't manly at all. You should be proud to call yourself a waitress! You don't have to call yourself a waiter to earn my respect."

"That's nice," Harini said, her voice turning drier than Kansas in the summertime and twice as cold as it was during winter. "I can see that the imaginary gender of words is very important to you. Would you like anything to drink while reinforcing a useless social construct or will you be satisfied with just your meal?"

"There's no need to get so huffy," the man protested. "I was complimenting you! You should thank me!"

"If you are unhappy with me as your waiter," Harini stated simply, "I will be more than willing to see if someone else is available."

"You're not a waiter," the man insisted. He shoved himself to his feet, towering over the slight form of the Indian woman. Instead of backing down or stepping away, Harini shifted her stance into something that both the Winchesters recognized as one of a trained fighter. She raised her chin defiantly. "You should just take the correction, you stupid Paki! I know that English isn't your first language, but I'm trying to help you!"

"More the fool you, then," Harini quipped, "because I was born and raised in these isles and grew up speaking the same English as you. Now you have a choice to make, sir. You can either sit your bum right back where it was and tell me if you want a drink with your meal. Or you can get the hell out of my pub."

"We'll be happy to take the trash out for ya," Dean offered immediately. Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms but didn't rescind the offer. Harini spared them both a grateful smile despite the situation.

"I don't have to put up with this," the man snapped before storming out of the place.

"Well, ain't he as pleasant as a rash?" Dean asked as they watched him. He turned to Harini with his charming smile fully back in place. "Useless social construct? You're one of the smart ones then? Like Sammy here?"

"I—" she started only to cut herself off and blink at them. "I actually don't know know what to say to that. Most of the times that someone asks me that question, it comes with the undertone that I'm smart for a girl or for someone of my ethnicity. I honestly don't think I've had someone think that I'm just smart."

"I love nerds," Dean announced, "especially hot ones like you." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "What other useless constructs do you not like reinforcing?"

Her tan cheeks flushed again as she tried to hide a smile. Sam groaned and covered his face. He was already planning how to make himself scarce from whatever inn they could find. Though, maybe Harini would be smart enough not to fall for such an obvious line.

"Well, I enjoy a very thorough mastery of many things," she said, just as suggestively and flirty as Dean. Sam wished the ground would open up and send him back to Hell right then, because being tortured by Lucifer could not be worse than listening to this. "I might be willing to demonstrate a few for you personally if you have any interest at all."

"Oh, interest is something that I definitely have," Dean returned. "Call up the boss. See if she'll let you off."

"Alas, she's a real slave driver," Harini countered, "but I'm off after the supper rush. We can meet up then."

"Sold," Dean agreed readily. "What time should I be here?"

Harini smiled sweetly and told him.

Maybe Sam could sleep in the train station.