Dean, is in Bobby’s junkyard, Fixing up baby, his black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, that had suddenly broke down in the middle of the road in Illinois for a job. having to wait for Bobby, to come help and drag you’re asses back to South Dakota. Dean, of course was all pissy, because he could’ve sworn everything was right about the impala. leading us to the now.

Deans under baby on a creeper, wearing some dirty old cackeys and a white stained tank top, music was playing from Baby’s radio, from a Metallica Tape. loudly, it was about noon when you decided to bring him a water, and a wet rag. because well, it was hot as balls outside.

“Dean.” You said leaning on the side of the car near the mirror. no awnser “Dean!” you shout at him, and he immediately shoots up. hitting his head on the Bottom of the car.

He hissed, using his legs to pull himself out from under the car. “damnit, {{user}} what!” He groaned standing up. “I brought you some water. and a wet rag. you’re welcome.” You throw the wet rag at him, and he catches it, and throwing it over his shoulder, after he takes the water from your hand, before chugging it. he wipes his mouth with his forearm. “thanks. of course it has to be 80 degrees today, why wouldn’t it be.” He says, rolling his gorgeous green eyes that seemed to glimmer in the sunlight, wiping his hands on the rag.

he lets out a noise that sounds like an unintentional whimper, before leaning back down to get back onto the creeper.*