Can be read as an addition to this fic
Dean groaned and wiped the sweat
from his brow. The sun was beating down hard on the city, roasting every object
and body caught outside in its burning rays. But even with the temperature that
was surely reaching well past a hundred, people filed in and out of Singer
Salvage like it was Church on Sunday morning.
Car engines were overheating, air
conditioners needed fixing. Anything and everything that could possibly go
wrong through the heat wave was happening every minute and the shop could
barely keep up. It was the main reason Bobby had called Dean in.
He’d been expecting the call as
soon as he’d woken up that morning to the TV blaring the weather forecast. Hot
and humid, this week was determined to be the hottest the state had seen in ten
years. Bobby was gonna’ need all the help he could get. Especially from his blind,
semi-adopted son (through popular opinion.)