Sam rolls down the window, waggles his cell. "Hey."
Dean looks up, shuts off the pressure washer. He wipes his shirt - reddens, squints at the phone.
Sam hesitates. "What?"
"H... H-H-HHH-HBBFFFF!" Dean glowers, jams a sleeve under his nose. "Hh-HUHhhh... h-heh-EHHH-het-t-CHHOOOO!" He shakes his head, motions for the cellphone - sneezes into both hands, dropping the nozzle.
"Bobby? He'll call you back." Sam puts down the vacuum and climbs out of the car, into the muddy flow from its wheel wells. "Good thing you don't have cedar fever."
Dean gloomily accepts his paper towels. "You're hilarious."
"Yeah. And you're allergy free."
A/N: Inspired in two rounds by Hanson's Angel (cedar fever and phone sneezing) and NOT AT ALL by cleaning my dad's car after having got it out of some sand it DEFINITELY WASN'T stuck in in Cape Breton.