fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room

Dean was on a mission. He'd dug out of his things the things he'd needed, now all he needed was one little brother with overly long hair...

He headed down to the third floor, intending to check in Sam's room, but noticed as he walked past the door to the common room some very familiar legs handing over the end of one of the couches.

Aha.

With a grin, Dean closed in on his prey.

"Hi Sammy."

Sam looked up from his book, and debated with himself for a moment before deciding that there was no point in getting into the "Sammy" argument right now. Dean looked determined, and that could either be very good, or very bad.

"Hey," he replied. "What's up?"

"I believe we have an appointment." Dean held up comb and scisssors he'd brought with him.

Tim dashes madly past the common room.

"You cannot be serious," Sam replied, setting his book down on his lap to put his hands over his hair. "I don't know of any such appointment."

"Were you drinking something other than soda Friday night?" Dean asked, advancing on where Sam was sitting. "Don't you remember us talking about your hair and how you can't even remember when you last had it cut?"

Tim dashes back past the common room towards the stairs.

"Yes, I remember that. And I remember you saying you wanted to cut it, but I don't remember agreeing with you." Sam shifted back on the couch a little. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. I'm perfectly capable of cutting my own hair if I want to."

Dean pointedly eyed the shaggy mop that was his brother's hair. "Sure doesn't look like it to me."

Sam couldn't really argue with the fact that he hadn't been cutting it. "Well, I just haven't had a chance lately. It's not that bad," he said, trying another excuse.

Dean didn't know if his brother was that much in denial or was just protesting out of habit. "Sam, if I asked anyone here what colour your eyes are, they wouldn't be able to answer. You know why? Because they can't see them. And they're probably unsure if you have any eyebrows either. Is that really what you're going for here -- the 'no-eyebrows-I-know-there's-eyes-in-there-somewhere' look?"

To be honest, Sam had to agree that his hair was in his eyes a lot more than he wanted it to be. Not that he was going to say that out loud, of course. But it wasn't like Dean hadn't done this before. And really, Sam could only argue with Dean for so long when he was this determined.

"Before I agree to this, I just want to remind you that if you make me look bad, I know where you sleep, and I think your roommate would be on my side."

Dean spread his hands and put on his most wounded expression. "When have I ever made you look bad?"

Well, okay there was that first time he'd cut Sammy's hair, but Dean had only been eight at the time. And Sammy wouldn't sit still. Besides, the bald spot had grown back in beore he'd turn five.

"Do we want to include instances of making me look socially bad? Because that might keep us here all afternoon," Sam replied, giving in nonetheless as he set his book aside completely. "All right, let's get this over with."

"Relax, will ya? It's a haircut, not a freaking execution." He went over to the table and chairs in the corner and pulled one out, patting it in invitation.

Sam smirked as he sat down. "You expect me to relax while you have a sharp object in your hand? I think I know better than that."

"So it was a buzzcut you wanted?"

"Not if you value your own hair." Sam made little threatening snipping motions with his fingers. "Just a trim will be fine."

"Right." Dean began running the comb through his brother's hair. "So who did this when I was gone?" he asked. "Dad?"

"Yeah, for the most part," Sam said, doing his best to hold still. "I'll admit, trying to cut my own hair was not as easy as I would have liked."

Dean picked up the scissors and snipping at the back of Sam's hair, taking off maybe half an inch. He knew if he took off any more, Sam would shriek bloody murder. "Yeah, well, it's hard to see what you're doing to your own head." He paused. "Might get you to give me a trim next time I need one."

Sam had forgotten how nearly relaxing this was; a lot more relaxing than when his dad did it, that was for sure. "I could be up for that," he said, with just a hint of an evil grin.

"Well, Dad's not around to do it and you at least know how I like my hair so..." He gave a half shrug, brushing off any deeper significance his statement might have had.

Sam smiled, allowing himself to feel the tiniest bit honored. "I do, yeah. And I promise, I won't cut anything that won't grow back."

"You better not because I can still beat your ass, extra years and height notwithstanding." He moved to the left side of Sam, beginning the pattern of combing and cutting again.

"Really? You sound awfully certain about that, and I'm not sure if that's wise." Taunting Dean while he was still cutting was probably not the wisest move in the world, but Sam was willing to take the chance.

"I am certain of that," Dean said with a smirk, as he carefully cut around Sam's ears. "I'm not the one who's given up sparring since we got here."

Sam just barely kept from moving to make a face at Dean. "Okay, so maybe I'm focusing a little more on the educational possibilities of our summer. But I could still kick your ass if I needed to."

"Dream on geekboy."

Sam laughed. "Oh, I will."

Dean moved to the other side of his brother, "Seriously though, Sam," he began as he was combing, "you really should keep in shape. There's enough weird stuff around here that who knows when you might need to defend yourself -- or against what? You can't afford to lose your edge."

Sam sighed, but decided to just humor Dean for the moment. It wasn't like he didn't have a point about how necessary defense might be. "I'm not going to lose my edge. And can I remind you that you really don't need to worry about me as much as you do sometimes?"

"Yeah, well, everybody needs a hobby." Truth was, he probably did worry about his brother too much, but it was hard to break the habits of a lifetime. Worrying about Sammy was practically part of his personality now.

"And what, you can't take up collecting coins or something?" Sam tried to muster up a tiny bit of whining, but in the end, he couldn't do it. He knew how much worrying about him meant to Dean. "I'll keep up on my sparring, I promise."

"That's my boy." Finishing trimming the other side, Dean moved to stand in front of Sam and regarded his bangs. "I'm assuming you want to keep most of the forehead foilage."

"Yes please," Sam replied, snickering. "It's not foliage, and it makes me look good."

"Don't know if I'd go that far, but I probably wouldn't recognise you if you did get rid of it," Dean admitted. He combed out Sam's bangs and carefully measured about half an inch above his eyebrows. "This long enough?" he asked before cutting.

"Yeah, that's fine. I don't want people to not be able to recognize me; I'd have to do the whole introduction thing over again. Of course, I could try saying that I'm Alec's brother this time around, and see how far that gets me," Sam said innocently.

Dean chuckled. "Watch it, Sammy. Place like this, saying something like that could be tempting fate. Maybe the next new student will be your long lost double."

Sam thought back to when he met Rory, and how she mistook him for her ex-boyfriend. But there was no way the two of them could look as alike as Dean and Alec. "Not gonna happen. The world isn't ready for more than one of me."

"Yeah, you're something all right. Hold still now or you're going to end up with crooked foiliage."

Third Floor Common Room - Sunday afternoon

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Almost there...

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On to glory!

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