A/N: A little drabble. A little drabble do ya. Ha. Get it? *shakes head* Sorry. I had to get a spark plug replaced, and as frustrating as that was, this story was the result. So I guess it's not all bad.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sam or Dean. They own me.
In the middle of the day, in the middle of the desert, in the middle of an old car yard, Dean stood in the blazing heat of the sun before the open hood of the Impala, patiently polishing his crescent wrench.
He couldn't help but smile as several yards away, Sam looked through a tabletop of discarded car parts, then wandered over to another pile on the ground, then back to the table again, as if completely lost.
Dean couldn't help but smile knowing that he was at fault for his brother's apparent confusion, couldn't help but smile at the memory of only moments ago when he had routinely said, "Sam. Spark plug." But instead of then routinely and rudely uttering a phrase like "Before the sun sets, please" or "Before I melt here," he had very quietly and very casually pecked Sam on the lips.
Dean couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief as Sam's enjoyment of the gesture clearly outweighed the alarm he felt over it, as for one bright instant, a smile parted his face that rivaled even the sun itself on that punishing day, only to close his mouth up tight again and say, "Spark plug. Right."
Dean couldn't help but expel a quiet sigh of contentment as he looked upon his two beauties: his car who lay open and ready for him to caress her delicate insides, and his brother, who was clumsily ambling between two piles of rubble like he had just been struck blind.
Dean didn't know what he enjoyed more. The adorable discombobulating effect that his affection had on Sam? The fact that for all of Sam's current motor control issues, he was obviously high as a kite?
Or the combination of those two facts which indicated that upon Sam's eventual return with the spark plug, another kiss would be warranted.
Yes, that last was the best part for sure.
Dean looked up again from his sparkling crescent wrench to see Sam peeking at him slyly with a shy smile on his lips, then hastily turning back to the cluttered table, nearly knocking it over as he did so. The shared look had been brief, but Dean saw all he needed to see to fill his beating heart and soften his sweating brow.
I'm yours, Sam's eyes had said.
Dean couldn't help but shift on his feet with strangled excitement.
Get back here with that spark plug, Sammy.
