Dean’s sprawled out across the hood of the Impala, arms splayed wide as his face is pressed against the glossy black paint. He’s shed his shirt at some point, shoulders wide under tanned and freckled skin, and as Sam sits up, wincing at the complaint of his back at laying on the back seat for more than ten minutes, he can see the edges of a towel
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Glad you liked it!!! ♥
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