Dean sat sprawled on his bed in sock feet, watching the TV and absently rubbing at his neck. A commercial came on, and he started twisting around in a way that was painful to watch.
"Back sore, Dean?"
His face lit up like a kid at Christmas.
"Yeah, I’ll say. Been drivin’ all day. My neck is killin’ me." He waited a beat, then asked with a sly grin that tried too hard to appear innocent, "Back rub?"