Chapter Text
The first thing Dean notices seems so little, so inconsequential, that he nearly doesn’t spot it in the first place. It creeps up on him slowly, like it doesn’t want to be seen. Dean’s so busy working on the Impala, it almost escapes his attention altogether. Almost. He crouches down to check the tire pressure and inspect the rims, squatting like the catcher on a baseball team. But that’s not when the problem presents itself. No, the problem comes when Dean goes to stand up, and his knees begin to protest. He grunts, more confused than he is in pain, and takes a couple of stiff steps over to the next tire. He repeats the same process, and gets the same result. That’s different.
He ignores it, finishing his inspection of the tires and turning his attention to the Impala’s engine. He lifts the hood and checks the oil. Looks good for now. He’s in the middle of doing a quick scan when something catches his eye. It’s small, and Dean nearly doesn’t see it, tucked away along the edge of the engine well. As he leans closer, however, he can clearly see a thin, flathead screwdriver nestled in the space between the Impala’s engine and the shell of its body. Thankfully, it’s not in a spot where it could have caused any damage. Dean realizes it must have fallen out of his shirt pocket last week while he was replacing one of the spark plugs, and mentally kicks himself for being so careless around his pride and joy.
“I’m sorry, Baby,” he says, leaning over to collect the stray screwdriver. “It’s okay, let’s get rid of that.”
Dean reaches down to get the tool, carefully sliding his hand into the small gap where the screwdriver has gotten stuck. He’s just barely able to squeeze his hand into the narrow space, and even that takes a little maneuvering. Finally, Dean gets a hold of it. He retrieves the screwdriver, standing up straight once more, when suddenly, the muscles in his back start to complain. How? He was only bent over for a couple minutes. He shakes his head, wiping the engine grease he got on himself while extracting the tool on his shirt. The wayward screwdriver goes back in his tool box, and the Impala’s hood comes down. The door to the garage opens, and Cas steps inside. He makes his way over to Dean, who’s still fully focused on his car. Dean knows there shouldn’t be any other stray objects hiding in there, but he wants to be sure. He owes Baby that much.
“Hey, Dean,” Cas calls to him.
Dean peels his attention away from the Impala, his expression softening when he sees Cas.
“Hey, Cas,” he smiles.
The angel looks him up and down for a moment, then smiles to himself.
“What is it?” Dean asks.
“Somehow, you always manage to get dirty whenever you spend time out here.”
Cas points at the engine grease on Dean’s shirt. And hands. Dean shrugs. He then walks around to the front of the car and sits on the hood, looking at Cas intently.
“Don’t lie...” Dean grins. “You like it when I get dirty.”
The angel chuckles softly, biting his lip.
“Yeah...okay,” he admits.
Dean gestures for Cas to come closer. He does, and soon Dean is wrapping him in his arms, pulling Cas against him. Cas crowds in between Dean’s legs, his hands cupping Dean’s face as he leans down for a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, leaving Dean with a smile on his face when they break apart.
“So what are you here for? A tire rotation?” he teases.
His eyes travel all the way down, then all the way back up Cas’s form.
“Multi-point inspection?”
The angel shakes his head, suppressing a laugh.
“I’m here to tell the handsome, resident mechanic that lunch is ready,” Cas replies.
“Oooh...handsome, huh?”
Dean gets to his feet and Cas swats at him playfully.
“Okay, okay. I’ll go get cleaned up and meet you in the kitchen,” Dean says.
He tidies up his work space a little bit and follows Cas inside. While Cas heads for the kitchen, Dean goes to the bathroom to wash up. He scrubs the dirt and grease off his hands, then walks to his and Cas’s room so he can change into some fresh clothes. He bends down to take off his work boots and suddenly the pain in his back returns. He must have slept funny or something. He goes over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and opens the top drawer, pulling out a small bottle of aspirin. He shakes two of the little white tabs into his palm and swallows them dry. That should take care of that. Dean then puts the bottle away and finishes changing before making his way to the kitchen. He’s pretty hungry, and he can’t wait to see what Sam and Cas made for lunch…