A/N: These are a series of One Shots written and posted separately by the individuals of The Objectifying Dean Team as ffnet doesn't allow joint posts. Check out entries from lostatc, Bird2K, DeansBabyBird and Katricrush.

Corn Silk, by Katricrush

Rounding the corner of the house, your heart is heavy at the thought of yet another day of working outdoors in this sweltering heat.

And then you see him. He's sitting on the edge of the deck, empty brown, paper bags scattered all around him. As you watch, he pulls out a leaf covered corn cob from the filled bag nearby. He starts by pulling the leaves down the vegetable, from the corn silk at the top, down past the stem. Layers and layers of leaves protect the corn at the center and his strong hands strip many of them at the same time. You watch transfixed as his hands work to shuck the corn, and after the leaves are removed and put into one of the empty bags, he finishes with the careful, detailed work of pulling the multitudes of corn silk fibers off the cob. Once the majority of the silk is removed, he holds the cob firmly in his callused palm and snaps off the overly long stem. He carefully looks over the cob before a small smile lights up his face and he nods, satisfied with his work. He places it in the pot before grabbing the next leaf covered vegetable from the bag.

You allow your eyes to drift from the mesmerizing deftness of his hands to take in the rest of him.

The sun is hot, but he appears relaxed, his bare feet tapping out the rhythm of a song only he can hear. He's dressed simply in a cotton t-shirt and frayed jeans but still, the sweat is dripping off his forehead, temples and the back of his head. Brushing it away with the back of his hand, he manages to smear some dirt on his face and deposit some corn silk at the same time. Your fingers itch to wipe it away but before you can move to help, he reaches down and pulls the bottom of his sweaty t-shirt up off his flat stomach to wipe at his forehead in an attempt to stop the tickling.

As if realizing that it will take more than a single swipe to rid himself of the itchy hangers-on, he pulls his t-shirt up over his head, only getting it stuck a little as it refuses to budge over his well defined upper back and chest. The muscles in his arms flex in a effort to pull the offending shirt the rest of the way off of him, but it stubbornly remains stuck. He lowers his shirt enough to see over it again, and grabbing hold of the material further up he gives himself a better chance at removing it.

This time he exhales as he pulls it up and over his muscular chest, and it only takes a little effort to get it to release from his back muscles. Off of his shoulders and head, he has to pull hard to force it to let his biceps and triceps go free, which they finally do with only the smallest sound of a tear. He stops to look at his shirt, holding it out in front of him, and he seems to be searching for where the fabric may have ripped. He finds it at the point where the sleeve meets the shoulder, and sighing, he uses his shirt as a rag to wipe his face, neck and body.

Experience has taught you that there is a price to pay for being cooler, and it comes in the form of corn silk sticking to every inch of any exposed, sweat-slicked skin. And this man is paying the price. The silk fibers have landed on his face, and it's obvious they're tickling him around his lips, on his cheeks and at his temples near his eyes. His face can't help but react to the constant tickling, and he finally laughs at his inability to rid himself of the nuisance threads, despite his best efforts at wiping at them with his arms, blowing at them, and finally, picking off the individual silk threads.

The whole thing is ridiculous, the silk has gotten everywhere, coating the legs of his jeans, sticking to his stomach and chest, and landing on his shoulders and arms. Soon, he has more silk covering him than he has hair on his body.

Using his shirt, he does his best to control the amount of silk that seems to almost fly onto him, but in the end, he realizes he has more sticking to him than anyone else who'd been shucking the whole time he'd struggled to get a handle on things.

Looking up, he meets your eyes and smiles. Those warm, green eyes sparkle with humor when he realizes you've seen the whole thing.

"I guess I'm not the first one to have this happen, am I?"

You know it's silly, but you can't stop yourself from giggling a little in response and he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that warms your ears and sends a tingle down your spine. He looks down at the impressive pile of corn he's already prepared.

"Still, not bad for a first effort at this corn shucking business." He looks up as you answer.

"Yeah, not bad."

And then you blush as you realize you're still just standing in place, staring at him. He grins back and nods to his right.

"Wanna sit?"

Lightly dropping down next to him, he offers you his hand, and he grins again when he notices it's covered in corn silk.

Laughing, you take it anyway. His strong, firm handshake feels pleasantly rough against your palm.

"I'm Dean."

He says his name in that captivatingly deep voice. Being so close, you realize that in the rich, green color of his eyes, there are small flecks of gold. And he's got the longest lashes you've ever seen.

"So, you'll be at the barbeque tonight?" His smile is the only invitation you need.

And you can't help thinking, a feast on a perfect, warm summer evening in the company of this great looking, really nice guy.

It doesn't get much better than this.

Nodding, you smile, knowing you wouldn't miss it for the world.