FIC: Sung by Freddie Mercury, SPN, G, Gen
Title: Sung by Freddie Mercury
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G, Gen
Words: 777
Beta: fragilecat, <3
Category: Humor, Crossover-ish
Summary: Dean and Sam on the road. Neglected tapes now sung by Freddie Mercury.
They were on their way to New Orleans hunting down the legendary Honey Island Swamp Monster, or its offspring, that set up home once more in the swamps. This morning Dean had made them breakfast at a Dunkin' Donuts, because of the coffee. Right, because of the coffee, as if Sam would not know about his brother's addiction of Maple Frosted. Of course Sam had to actually go into the shop and buy their orders and not Dean because- Sam could not even remember the exact reason anymore. It had been elder brother BS, but logical BS, and Dean had been smug. Sam had chosen to flee the car.
Now, in that particular Dunkin' Donuts somebody had chosen to play a Pretty Boy Floyd record. In all probability it was that teenage boy that looked like a girl with all his make-up and his … hair. Well, it looked ridiculous. If Dean had gone into the shop to buy their breakfast, that cock rock fanboy would have been mocked to death, and Dean would have been thrown out of DDs because, really, you are allowed to turn up at work looking like this, your boss is your dad. Sam had just bought their food. …While singing along with the song and the kid had grinned at him and had given him a Banana Nut Muffin for free.
What Sam had not bargained with was that the damn song stayed with him, stuck in his head. And he had made the mistake and had hummed it in front of Dean. Who had looked at him weirdly while he had half a donut stuffed in his mouth, looking stupid, and had then grinned at him, nodding enthusiastically and, after swallowing, had ordered Sam to go in the back and grab that damn tape. Now.
Climbing around the Impala wasn't as easy anymore as it had been when Sam had been, say, twelve. Sure, now, with 6'4'' of body height and the equally long arm span he could reach in the back and easier grab things off the back seat. But things like kneeling up, slithering over the backrest, diving into the legroom and getting anything that had fallen down under there… yeah. Not possible anymore.
So, Sam protested. But not for long. Then he turned, shuffled a bit and bent over the backrest to search for the Pretty Boy Floyd/Mötley Crüe tape that should be under the passenger seat. Dean was eating, and he wanted Sam to get the tape, so it was save-ish for Sam to do so. The last time Sam had bent over the backrest that way Dean had told him he looked spectacularly gay and had then given him the mother of all wedgies. At age 23 a wedgie from your big brother sucked even more than it did at age 7. The revenge was more fun though, too.
Sam found the tape in under a minute. He sat back down and didn't hit the tape slot on first try because of a dizzy spell from handing upside down. Dean took it. I Wanna Be With You was coming out of the speakers. Sung by Freddie Mercury. But that couldn't be.
Dean stared at the cassette deck as if he saw Christ himself. In a dress. In Bubba's Drag Queen Bar. Sam had to ask.
"What the hell?"
Dean didn't seem to listen to him. He just stared. Then he started laughing. Said it was awesome, and typical, and that it was ironic but appropriate that it happened to him.
Sam had no idea what his crazy brother was going on about. He said so.
"What the hell are you going on about?"
That made Dean look incredulously at Sam for a longer moment then he was comfortable with, seeing that Dean drove them at 60 mph. Dean looked back to the street but went off on a rant about, "Dude, I thought you went to college, man. Getting them education, and all that. Hell, Sam, don't you read?"
Dean fished around in the space left to his legs, came up with a TV programm, frowned at it, tossed with to the back seat and went on searching. He made a little aha noise and then Sam got a paperback flung at his face.
"Here! You read that! Now!", said Dean.
Sam shook the dog-eared book and crumbles of what were once upon a time maybe chips fell out of it. Vaguely disgusted Sam leafed the book back into its original form and had a look at the cover. Good Omens, huh. Well, he had at least three hours of car drive to spare.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G, Gen
Words: 777
Beta: fragilecat, <3
Category: Humor, Crossover-ish
Summary: Dean and Sam on the road. Neglected tapes now sung by Freddie Mercury.
They were on their way to New Orleans hunting down the legendary Honey Island Swamp Monster, or its offspring, that set up home once more in the swamps. This morning Dean had made them breakfast at a Dunkin' Donuts, because of the coffee. Right, because of the coffee, as if Sam would not know about his brother's addiction of Maple Frosted. Of course Sam had to actually go into the shop and buy their orders and not Dean because- Sam could not even remember the exact reason anymore. It had been elder brother BS, but logical BS, and Dean had been smug. Sam had chosen to flee the car.
Now, in that particular Dunkin' Donuts somebody had chosen to play a Pretty Boy Floyd record. In all probability it was that teenage boy that looked like a girl with all his make-up and his … hair. Well, it looked ridiculous. If Dean had gone into the shop to buy their breakfast, that cock rock fanboy would have been mocked to death, and Dean would have been thrown out of DDs because, really, you are allowed to turn up at work looking like this, your boss is your dad. Sam had just bought their food. …While singing along with the song and the kid had grinned at him and had given him a Banana Nut Muffin for free.
What Sam had not bargained with was that the damn song stayed with him, stuck in his head. And he had made the mistake and had hummed it in front of Dean. Who had looked at him weirdly while he had half a donut stuffed in his mouth, looking stupid, and had then grinned at him, nodding enthusiastically and, after swallowing, had ordered Sam to go in the back and grab that damn tape. Now.
Climbing around the Impala wasn't as easy anymore as it had been when Sam had been, say, twelve. Sure, now, with 6'4'' of body height and the equally long arm span he could reach in the back and easier grab things off the back seat. But things like kneeling up, slithering over the backrest, diving into the legroom and getting anything that had fallen down under there… yeah. Not possible anymore.
So, Sam protested. But not for long. Then he turned, shuffled a bit and bent over the backrest to search for the Pretty Boy Floyd/Mötley Crüe tape that should be under the passenger seat. Dean was eating, and he wanted Sam to get the tape, so it was save-ish for Sam to do so. The last time Sam had bent over the backrest that way Dean had told him he looked spectacularly gay and had then given him the mother of all wedgies. At age 23 a wedgie from your big brother sucked even more than it did at age 7. The revenge was more fun though, too.
Sam found the tape in under a minute. He sat back down and didn't hit the tape slot on first try because of a dizzy spell from handing upside down. Dean took it. I Wanna Be With You was coming out of the speakers. Sung by Freddie Mercury. But that couldn't be.
Dean stared at the cassette deck as if he saw Christ himself. In a dress. In Bubba's Drag Queen Bar. Sam had to ask.
"What the hell?"
Dean didn't seem to listen to him. He just stared. Then he started laughing. Said it was awesome, and typical, and that it was ironic but appropriate that it happened to him.
Sam had no idea what his crazy brother was going on about. He said so.
"What the hell are you going on about?"
That made Dean look incredulously at Sam for a longer moment then he was comfortable with, seeing that Dean drove them at 60 mph. Dean looked back to the street but went off on a rant about, "Dude, I thought you went to college, man. Getting them education, and all that. Hell, Sam, don't you read?"
Dean fished around in the space left to his legs, came up with a TV programm, frowned at it, tossed with to the back seat and went on searching. He made a little aha noise and then Sam got a paperback flung at his face.
"Here! You read that! Now!", said Dean.
Sam shook the dog-eared book and crumbles of what were once upon a time maybe chips fell out of it. Vaguely disgusted Sam leafed the book back into its original form and had a look at the cover. Good Omens, huh. Well, he had at least three hours of car drive to spare.