Rating: PG - Gen - Humor
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: The cosmos conspires to give Dean the worst day ever. Earth Day, T-shirts, decaf and lesbian folk rock.
Dean knew it was a mistake waking up that morning as soon as he opened his eyes.
The fog of his breath wafted up over his face and for a second he thought maybe he had misplaced himself in his own chaotic timeline of people and places. Wasn't he supposed to be indoors in a Motel 6 and not laying on the flat of his back on the tundra of an Arctic glacier?
"Think the heat broke down last night." Sam said helpfully from somewhere across the room.
Dean rolled his head to look at the window. It was laced with a fine network lattice of soulful Christmas card like ice. It would have been real charming if he wasn't frozen into place like some shriveled mammoth on one of those science cable shows. He groaned as he got out of bed, taking his blankets with him to peer with blurry eyes out through enchantingly frigid glass.
Lots and lots of snow.
"Let's just get out of here." He murmured.
The thought of getting into a shower made him grit his teeth. Forgoing that surely awful experience, he tried to stay wrapped in blankets and get dressed at the same time. He stumbled and swayed until he was forced to shed what warmth the sheets had in order to put on a shirt. Trembling and shirtless he hastily dug through his duffel for his last remaining clean flannel.
As soon as he got one arm in he knew something was awry.
The buttons barely met.
The bottom of the shirt reached just up to but not past his belly button.
"Oh yeah sorry." Sam said offhandedly while shouldering on his jacket. "I think I fucked up some of the wash with some freaky dryer yesterday. Thing was like some industrial shrinking machine."
"How come your clothes are okay??" Dean demanded.
"What am I retarded?" Sam rolled his eyes. "After I saw what it did to yours I wasn't gonna put my stuff in there."
Dean blinked down at his favorite shirt that was now about big enough for maybe a slightly tallish middle schooler.
"Here." Sam tossed him a wadded up shirt.
Dean held it out.
It was a bright yellow T-shirt that said boldly:
Save the Whales! Hug a Tree! It's EARTH DAY.
Dean looked back up at his brother with, he was sure, a look that he was positive needed no added explanation.
"It's all I have man, take it or leave it."
Dean looked out a the whirl of snow that blew just outside and his shoulders slumped. Tearing off his ruined flannel he shoved on the cheery eco-sound T-shirt without another word.
So sure it had taken over an hour to dig the car out from under the deep snow bank the plows had handily deposited right up against her. And yeah, they had to use their bare hands, and a borrowed ice scraper. And sure he was pretty sure he saw a nice long scratch along her side from said plow. And okay, the inside of the Impala was about as warm as the inside of a deep freeze that was inside an igloo that was on that planet in Star Wars with the tontons.
But everything would be okay with some Steppenwolf.
As sweet fate would have it, the precious cassette tape was the only one not sitting in the box of the rest that were sealed frozen into the trunk.
Dean held it triumphantly in a shaking hand, ready for the magic carpet ride.
It slid in with that familiar comfortable click into the vintage player.
He switched it on ready to start the day anew.
The first jaunty notes of the song lurched and warped. Dean looked down at the player in concern. Suddenly a stream of silky thin shiny tape spewed out of the slot, erupting and spilling down between the seats.
"You know," Sam said while blowing his breath between his clasped hands. "This wouldn't happen if you'd just get a CD player."
Gripping the ice cold wheel with aching surely frost bitten hands, Dean allowed himself a brief but satisfying thought. He wondered what it would feel like to make Sam eat the tape that was being scrambled and shredded in the player as they sat and watched.
He imagined it would feel pretty good.
What they needed next was obvious.
Dean held his hands over the air vents as he waited parked just outside the small station convenience shop.
He fantasized about a large strong cup of java burning his numb hands as he tried to hold it. He could see the fresh steam pouring off the top as he pulled off the plastic lid. It would burn his tongue and scorch his throat as it went down.
Sam swung his door shut and handed Dean a small dixie cup like styrofoam cup.
Dean supposed he should be grateful that it was at least room temperature and not frozen in one large coffee ice cube.
"They only had decaf."
Dean felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.
"But hey good news," Sam smiled as he sipped his own lukewarm uncaffinated and therefore useless beverage. "They had a bin of old tapes! Why is it only crappy old gas stations still sell cassette tapes..."
Dean perked as Sam pulled out the alleged tape and slipped it.
Of course that tape started playing perfectly.
Dean felt his eye brows raise.
"What is this?"
Dean slammed open his door and headed towards a large trash can. He tossed his full cup down into it hard and took a moment to gather himself. He looked up when he noticed someone standing just opposite of him. An old guy, trucker cap and a cigarette dangling from his lips as he filled up his heavy duty 4x4 with chains on the tires.
The man studied Dean's T-shirt than glanced over his shoulder towards the car. With the door gaping open it was very easy to hear the well harmonized voices on the wings of acoustic guitar blasting righteously out of it.
"Damn hippies." The man grumbled under his breath.
Dean felt his fists clench and unclench as he hurriedly got back into the Impala. He revved the engine hard and shoved her into gear.
"Where we headed'?" Sam asked getting into the groove of lesbian folk rock.
Dean peeled out of the parking lot.
"To the end of this day as soon as possible."