THE TEMPLE OF DEAN
WOW: slab. A quiet moment's rest and relaxation by the side of the road; just the Impala, Sam, Dean, and Dean's ego.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; still, am I downhearted? Well, yes actually!
"This body's a temple," Dean announced, patting his belly; "and chicks worship at it."
Sam snorted dismissively.
"I'll prove it," Dean snapped.
Spying a young woman cycling toward them, he stripped off his T-shirt and leaned back against the Impala.
The woman cycled past, eyes widening at the sight of broad shoulders and firm slabs of muscle.
Dean winked suggestively, and her bicycle wobbled as she rode away; still staring.
"See, non-believer," Dean grinned.
They heard a distant crash, and watched idly as a stray bicycle wheel bounced past them.
"Well, Your Eminence," Sam sighed;" looks like you've got your first fallen woman."