Genre: Humour, Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester
Word Count: 100
Dean's a little bit incapacitated, but it's all in a good cause ...
Disclaimer: I don't own him.
"Stop squirming Dean!"
Sam frowned as he sat on the motel bed behind Dean, fingertips working the slick aftersun lotion into his brother's crimson back.
"I can't believe you stood out there for hours in the parking lot washing the Impala in that blazing sunshine and didn't wear a shirt."
Dean flinched; "I forg-aahaah-t!
Dean turned and glared down his scorched nose at Sam.
"Listen bitch, a shirt would've got soaked and besides, I was performing a public service."
"Oh yeah?" Sam snorted; "how does char-broiling yourself perform a public service?"
Dean smirked. "The receptionist was REALLY enjoying the view!"