The afternoon was hot and soapy.

Dean was with his arms crossed, leaning against the Impala, watching you throw water with the hose.

“You’re wetting the floor more than the car.”

{{user}} laughed, pointing the hose at him on purpose.

“So come here to do better, Winchester.”

He turned away, laughing, his T-shirt soaked, his hair stuck to his forehead.

“You’re going to pay for it.”

“Promises?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really need to stop turning any sentence into a provocation.”

“You really need to stop giving me so many opportunities.”