She's Electric | Sam Fender

xi - Cassia

We've spent half an hour traipsing around London, looking for a restaurant that Dean approves of. And one that approves of us. We look a right bunch of scruffs, not to mention the fact that we're all borderline bladdered. Or, in the case of Joe, Dean and Sam, already off our faces. Drew stumbles around on his crutches, just managing to keep upright. Dean pisses himself laughing every time he nearly falls. I think Drew would stab him like he did Joe, but he can barely stand up on two crutches, let alone one.

"I'm starving," Dean whines, looking miserable as sin.

When no one responds, he repeats himself, even louder than the first time.

Sam scowls at him, "Aye, aye, we heard you."

Dean trudges along the pavement, dragging his feet to create an awful grating sound. I can tell Sam's getting irritated. We're all tired and hungry, like kids up past their bedtime. In Sam's defence, they would've had to travel for at least 3 hours on a train down from Newcastle, which is no picnic. Not to mention the delays at the moment. Good old Britain. Reliable as ever. Our 4 and a bit hour drive down here wasn't particularly fun either.

I rummage around in my pockets, I think I stuffed something in there before we set off, probably a cereal bar. I did. A Nature Valley protein thing. I don't even like them, but they're supposed to be good for you.

"I've got this?" I offer it to Dean, who suddenly looks less depressed. "You're welcome to it."

His eyes light up when I throw it at him, "Aw, cheers. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem," I smile as he munches away with a grin on his face.

Sam nudges me, smirking to himself, "You've practically adopted him now. Congratulations."

"Lucky me." I actually mean it. I think Dean would make a great friend. He's funny and kind and just seems like a genuinely nice person. They all do, to be honest.

The conversation lulls, but the silence isn't awkward. I fiddle with the headphones around my neck, ignoring the scowl my dad gives me, and eventually pull them on. I flick through Spotify and finally settle on Nebraska, Bruce Springsteen. It's a beautiful album with darker lyrics and a softer feel, but I simply adore it. Sam catches a glimpse of what I'm listening to over my shoulder and smiles. You can tell by his music he loves Springsteen and is hugely influenced by him.

Who can blame him? The Boss is a legend, and his lyrics are incredible. I wish I could write like that. That'd be incredible. Instead, I'm acting, which isn't something I really enjoy. I'd rather write, like plays and scripts. Get that dark academia aesthetic going. Sitting in a window seat, the rain pattering gently down, with a mug of tea that steams up the glass and a notebook... that's the dream.

"You have exceptional taste," He says, just loud enough for me to hear him over the music. I pause the track, Johnny 99, and turn my headphones off again.

I raise an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

He nods, "I was reading your shoes. Some good lyrics on there."

"Thanks," I smile. Rain starts to fall to the ground, typical of September, and my smile grows even more. I love the rain. It's so peaceful and beautiful and just... I don't know how to explain it, but everything is better in the rain. Especially if it's accompanied by a thunderstorm. There's something satisfying about watching the clouds roll in, thunder crashing overhead while raindrops beat against the ground.

Sam doesn't look as pleased. "Didn't bring a coat, dammit."

I laugh a little as he braces himself against the wind that's starting again. Wonderful, grey, English weather.

Dean's face has dropped again, "We better find somewhere soon, I'm fucking freezing. And it's hoying it doon."

Once again, Sam rolls his eyes at his friend, "Whey nah shit Sherlock."

Dad grins. I think he really likes Sam; he's a likeable sort of a person.

"Why don't we just nip back to the hotel?" Dad suggests. "We're not gonna find anywhere now, not in this state."

Dean nods, "I'm all for it. Where are yous staying?"

"Premier Inn," I answer. "No room service but there's food downstairs you can take up."

Upon hearing the magic word of "food", Dean looks enthusiastic again.

"Sounds champion," Sam says. "We're at the same spot, so it all works out really."

I start to pull my headphones back on when Sam digs some Bluetooth earphones out of his pocket.

"Do you mind?" He asks. I don't catch his drift at first. "If I connect to your phone, I mean."

"No, no, not at all." I go into settings and add his earphones to my connections. He passes me the left one and keeps the right for himself. It's all vaguely reminiscent of sharing wired earbuds and an iPod back in my childhood.

I hit play and everything around me dissolves while the music washes over us.