Characters: Sam and Dean (Gen, Humor, Dialogue-fic)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Summary: Number #137 on the list of things Dean wants to do before his year is over…
Author's Notes: A birthday present for winterlive, who is probably about as sick of snow by now as Sam. Many happy returns!
"Dean, why the hell are you stopping here?"
"I thought we'd build a snowman."
"Seriously? No. And what the fuck? We haven't done that since we were kids."
"Exactly. This could be one of the last chances I'll ever get..."
"God, why do you have to keep putting it that way? It's depressing."
"But it usually works. C'mon, Sam— I've been saving these Cheetos for the nose."
"Now that's just wrong."
"You sound like you're eighty! It's a new century, Sammy— time to move ahead with the rest of us."
"What makes you so sure those Cheetos are even from this century? How would we actually know?"
"Really don't think the snowman's going to care, Sammy. Now, you coming or what?"
"Jesus. All right…"
"That's the spirit. C'mon— there's a pine tree or something over there. That'll be good for supplies."
"You make it sound like recon, Dean."
"Might as well do the job right."
"And now you sound like Dad…"
"Okay, you didn't say we were building The Colossus here, Dean. Stop rolling— we still have to get the other two parts on top."
"I want people to see it from the highway. I want them to feel fear, Sam, do you understand?"
"Then you shouldn't have picked junk food for one of the basic materials. And I just want to feel my hands again."
"Keep it up, and you'll be lifting the middle part by yourself."
"I like these branches for the arms, Sammy— the pine needles make it better, like he's got monster claws."
"It does look pretty good, I have to admit. What're we using for the mouth?"
"Broken-up twigs, like scraggly teeth. Like Snowzilla."
"Okay. Better make them big, then."
"The pinecones for the eyes look kind of freaky, though, Sam. Like a pair of armadillos running across his face."
"Maybe they're just after the Cheetos."
"Nobody'll see the ridges on 'em from the road, Dean. It's too far away."
"Yeah, I suppose."
"So, are we about done? His face is on."
"Maybe. No, wait— something else. Psycho hair!"
"Gotta admit, Dean, I didn't think this was where you were headed with this whole nostalgia trip."
"Well, you know. It kinda detoured. But this is way better than what I'd first been thinking of anyway."
"Epic hair, dude— never knew clumps of twigs could look so bizarre."
"Good, huh Sammy?"
"Very good. So, is that it?"
"Let's back up and get the view from a distance… What do you think?"
"Totally awesome, man. Who knew?"
"I think it needs a victim…"
"Oh, all right. We can go now. I'll even crank up the heater in the car for you."
"Thank god. And Dean?"
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