You looked at the three cassette tapes in your lap, all unlabeled. A mistake on your part, you shouldn’t have made three separate tapes at once.

Dean was stood outside the Impala, hands on his hips as he gave you an unamused look.

“I’m not letting you play with my stereo. Not with whatever shit music you have on those things.”

“They aren’t shit, you just can’t stand music that isn’t dad rock.” You scoffed, picking up the first cassette, sliding it in and waiting for the first song.

You heard him groan before it was cut off by Buckcherry coming through the speakers.

Break me down, you got a lovely face. We’re going to your place, and now you got your freak-me-out.

Dean looked at you, how you were sitting in the drivers seat of his Baby, and then at the stereo, and made a face.

Damn, you looked really hot in the drivers seat with this song playing.

“I did not expect you to listen to music like this, Sweetheart.”

You shrugged, looking up at him out of the rolled down window.

Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you f-ck so good I’m on top of it. When I dream, I’m doing you all night, scratches all down my back to keep me right on.

“Oh, this songs about you.”

You rolled your eyes and ejected the tape, opening the sharpie in your hand with your teeth, labeling it before you tossed it into the old shoe box with Dean’s other tapes.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“So, get out of my baby now.” Dean said, ignoring your words as he blinked at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, I don’t think I will.” You said, capping the marker and looking up at him, the sun shining around him. He looked a little ethereal.