( hey, he's so good at that sort of thing that he might as well have a degree in it – and sometimes, it's anyone's guess of whether or not he actually is working on getting that under his belt rather than mechanics. granted, he's always pleasantly surprised when someone can throw his own brand of sass right back at him, and given that tends to be his little brother and rarely anyone else?
you'd better believe this is going to get interesting.
now, dean will never pretend to know how physics works, but he knows the impala like the back of his hand – better than that, if he really thinks about it, because there just happens to be a scar skating across the back of his knuckles on the left side that he swears, for the life of him, he can't remember where it came from. but everything to do with his baby? he can't not know everything about her. not when he'd spent so much of his younger years helping their dad keep her looking sharp, clean, in the best shape a lady could possibly be in.
besides, john would never forgive him if he started slipping. he has to take care of her.
now, dean has a deep and profound respect for personal space, but the way castiel leans in and peers at the inner workings of the impala, the crease of his brow that he catches in his periphery, he doesn't bother moving away or widening what gap there is between them. more to the point, he shifts after a moment of faux-fiddling with the wrench and turns back to toss it in the box, picking up another tool that he can actually do something with. the tweak of a wire here, and then he rests both hands against the front end, smiling about as fondly as any man can about a car that is more a part of the family than any inanimate object should be.
no subject
you'd better believe this is going to get interesting.
now, dean will never pretend to know how physics works, but he knows the impala like the back of his hand – better than that, if he really thinks about it, because there just happens to be a scar skating across the back of his knuckles on the left side that he swears, for the life of him, he can't remember where it came from. but everything to do with his baby? he can't not know everything about her. not when he'd spent so much of his younger years helping their dad keep her looking sharp, clean, in the best shape a lady could possibly be in.
besides, john would never forgive him if he started slipping. he has to take care of her.
now, dean has a deep and profound respect for personal space, but the way castiel leans in and peers at the inner workings of the impala, the crease of his brow that he catches in his periphery, he doesn't bother moving away or widening what gap there is between them. more to the point, he shifts after a moment of faux-fiddling with the wrench and turns back to toss it in the box, picking up another tool that he can actually do something with. the tweak of a wire here, and then he rests both hands against the front end, smiling about as fondly as any man can about a car that is more a part of the family than any inanimate object should be.
dean winchester, you are embarrassing. )
Mhm. My baby. Grew up working on her.