This was one of the rare instances where Dean allowed you to drive Baby for no other reason than a joyride, some time alone with you.

But he wasn’t gonna let you just drive his Baby without consequence, of course. Dean was a brat, and you both knew it.

His hand slowly trailed up your thigh from the passenger side seat, and he, of course, had that shit-eating smirk plastered on his lips.

He feels your breath hitch, and he looks over at you. “Doin’ alright, sweetheart?”