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Tommy was finally down for his afternoon nap, which meant you had an hour, or two, to yourself.
Naturally, you decided to treat yourself.
You'd spent the morning preparing to make your famous double chocolate chip cookies, and you could finally put them in the oven. You glanced around the tidy kitchen realising you had time to spare.
And when you had time to spare, there was only one thing you wanted to do.
Pay Dean a visit in the garage.
It was rare for the two of you to get any alone time these days, especially with a wandering toddler determined to insert himself into every room you entered. This might be your only chance.
The low strum of guitar grew louder as you approached, Led Zeppelin IV blasting from the speakers. By the time you reached the garage, When the Levee Breaks was playing at full volume.
You stepped inside. Dean's boots were sticking out from beneath the Impala, one foot tapping along to the beat.
The sight brought back memories of when you first started dating.
Back then, you'd sit nearby at Bobby's Salvage Yard with a beer in one hand and sunglasses on your face—partly because of the sun, but mostly to hide exactly where your eyes kept wandering. The way his biceps flexed whenever he used a tire iron. The way the muscles in his back shifted beneath his T-shirt. And the way those jeans looked whenever he bent over the open hood.
You bit your lip, your thighs pressing together at the memory. "Hey, baby," you purred, making your way closer.
You heard a chuckle from under the car. He knew that tone. He planted his hands beneath the car and pushed himself out, rolling backwards on the creeper.
Then a second, much smaller creeper rolled out beside him. Your mouth fell open.
There, covered head to toe in oil and soot, was Tommy. You slowly crossed your arms. Tommy couldn't meet your eyes. "Uh-oh," he whispered, climbing straight into Dean's lap. "Mommy mad."
Dean chuckled as he climbed onto his feet, lifting Tommy with him. Your son immediately buried his filthy face into Dean's shoulder.
Dean laughed louder. "Why would Mommy be mad, Buddy?" Tommy peeked at Dean before hiding back on his shoulder.
"Because Mommy put him down for a nap an hour ago."
Dean looked down at his son. "Oh, really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because he came in here about forty-five minutes ago and told me you were making dinner."
Your hands landed on your hips. "Tommy."
Your son shrank further into Dean's shoulder. "I just wanted to see Daddy," he mumbled.
Your fake pout immediately appeared as you met Dean's eyes. "That's why I came in here too."
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Oh." A slow smirk spread across his face as he stepped closer. "Is that so?"
You smiled, leaning towards him. Before your lips could touch, Tommy suddenly sat upright and planted his oil-covered hands directly over both your mouths "No!" As you pulled back, he lost his balance and almost landed in your arms.
You froze. Dean burst out laughing. You slowly pulled back and looked down at your shirt. Your once-clean white top was now covered in tiny black handprints. "Tommy!"
Your son giggled. Dean shuffled him onto his other hip, completely unbothered by the state of him. "Look at you, buddy. You're absolutely covered." He inspected Tommy's hands and face. "Someone definitely needs a bath." Tommy squealed as Dean ticked his side. "And then," Dean added, looking directly at you with a grin, "maybe Mommy can give me one later?"
You narrowed your eyes, fighting a smile. "Well, how else are you supposed to wash your back?"
Dean's grin widened. You reached over and took Tommy from him, shirt now completely ruined. You were about to leave the garage when Dean reached up to swipe down your nose, leaving a black sooty streak. "Dean!"
"What?" he asked innocently.
You gave him a look. He smirked. "Guess you need a bath too."
You rolled your eyes, shifting Tommy onto your hip. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you cleaned up."
Tommy giggled, putting too hands on your cheeks to copy his dad. "Mommy dirty."
"Yeah, she is," you heard Dean muttered. You shook your head, smile growing.
Tommy waved enthusiastically at Dean. "Bye, Daddy!"
Dean waved back. "Bye, buddy."
You were a few steps from the door, when Dean's voice stopped you. "Hey, sweetheart?"
You looked back. He leaned casually against Baby, arms folded across his chest, biceps looking very biteable. "What?"
That familiar smirk returned. "Don't use all the hot water."
You shook your head, trying not to laugh. "You're impossible."
"Yeah," Dean called after you. "But you love me."
You didn't turn around. "Unfortunately."
His laughter followed you all the way out of the garage.