Butterbeer and Haute Coiffure
Sam and Dean finally found a place to sit and warm themselves for a while. The car they had rent as soon as they had landed on Great Britain had broke down only a mile away from where they were now, but that mile was more than enough to make them freeze since it was snowing and the snow was knee deep.
The two brothers sat on a wooden table a little far from three youngsters. Except from them, the pub "Hog's Head" was empty.
An old man with long white hair and beard approached them and asked them what they wanted to drink. They ordered butterbeer because they had seen an advertisement on a wall of the pub and decided they wanted to taste the local drinks.
"This place is a mess!" Sam said. After all these years he had been living in motel rooms, he was used in being in places not very clean, but this pub was beyond imagination. It was so dirty, you couldn't even see through the windows. If those were, indeed, windows, of course...
"You know, Dean, I was thinking, I want to get a different haircut." Sam told his brother.
Dean was completely indifferent, but he knew he would hear the whole thing anyway, so he asked: "How do you wanna wear it?".
"Like that kid's over there." Sam answered.
Dean looked over at the youngster company: There was girl with long wavy hair and two boys. One of the boys had a proper haircut, but the other one didn't.
"To which of the three are you referring?" Dean asked a little intrigued now.
"The red-haired one." Sam answered.
"Dude, you have the same "dude looks like a lady" haircut! And now that I think about it, the use of the word "haircut" is wrong: That would imply that your hair is cut!" Dean complained.
Sam went on without paying much attention to his brother's last two sentences: "No. You see, he doesn't have a parting like I have: His hair is thrown over his forehead, you know, like bangs."
"Dude, could you be more gay?" Dean asked his brother.
Sam was not annoyed by Dean's response. Realizing what he just had said, he excused his brother, and amused, he responded: "I will also have it dyed the same colour."
Both brothers burst into laughter.
They had just recovered from the laughter crisis when Aberforth brought them what they had ordered.
They thanked him and after he left, they tasted their butterbeer.
"What the hell is that?" Dean asked his brother.
"It's disgusting and definitely alcohol-free." Sam said with a skewed grimace.
"Why the fuck do they call it a beer then?" Dean asked again, completely bummed. "Come on, let's go!" he told his brother while he was getting up and putting on his leather jacket. "Roadside assistance will arrive soon, anyway." he said.
Sam got up as well, left some pounds on their table, and they both left.
Aberforth took a look at the muggle currency and exasperated, he whispered: "Damn it!"