"Have fun at Soccer, Ben!"
Dean chuckled as Lisa dropped of her (his?) son. He hadn't been staying with them long-three months or so since Sam...
Dean shook it off as Lisa climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala. The car hunt was still going on. She glanced at him and frowned.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"Why would something be wrong?" Dean deflected.
"It's all over your face. Spill."
"I was thinking of Sam, that's all." Dean replied as /Carry on My Wayward Son/ played from the radio.
"Oh Dean..." Lisa changed the station and turned to see his horrified expression.
"What is it?"
"You do not have the right to touch a man's stereo!" Dean exclaimed. "Driver picks the tunes, Shot Gun shuts their pie hole!"
"Is that's what you think?" Lisa raised her brow.
"It's a rule of the road!" Dean exclaimed.
"What about if Shot Gun has breasts Driver may wanna touch again, among other parts?"
Dean paused as she said this.
"Don't ever let anyone know."
"Our little secret."