Dean liked the Pussycat Dolls. He didn't even know how he got into them, probably his friend, Charlie's eccentric music taste and refusal to have Metallica or AC/DC playing in her car when he hitched a lift.

That was the reason he had 'Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me' blasting into his eyes at almost top volume as he took the subway to his job. Working in an office wasn't fun, but most of the money was split between his beloved '67 Chevy Impala (which his father had crashed into a tree, whilst driving drunk, it was his now. This was also the reason he was hitching lifts with Charlie) and funds for his own mechanic shop.

He nodded his head along to the chorus and he jumped into the train cart and sat down. As more people poured on, he noticed them wince. None of them sat next to him.

Jeez, he had a shower yesterday, he didn't stink that much.

Two stops later and Dean's music had repeated twice. He had put it on repeat before he left.

As the train stopped, several people almost leaped out of the cart and ran.

A dark-haired man sauntered onto the train, smiling.

It disappeared seconds later. Dean was actually getting pissed now.

But only two more stops. He would survive.

The man sat down next to Dean, who almost cried and hugged him.

The chorus played and the man leant over and said something to Dean.

Pulling both headphones out, he frowned.

"What?"

And then he realised.

The music was still playing, even when the pieces weren't in his ears.

Oh.

OH.

"I said yes. I wish my girlfriend was as hot as you. I suspect your hotness is the only reason someone hasn't clapped you around the head to shut you up."

He hadn't plugged the headphones in all the way.

Sup kids. I've got school in two days. Wondering if I should spend tomorrow sleeping, fanfictioning or partying and getting drunk.

I have to say I'm veering towards option three.

Fez out.