Dean kicked off his boots and threw himself onto the bed, burrowing underneath the covers with a contented sigh. He had a full stomach, a warm bed and twelve hours of sleep in front of him.
Happy freaking camper!
Tappity tap.
He groaned at the irritatingly familiar sound of busy computer keys. "Can't you do that in the morning?"
"Not tired." His brother didn't take his eyes off the blog. "Gotta figure out the right bait for this bastard."
"The bastard will still be there in the morning." Dean threw a pillow, hit Sam in the head. "Dude! Sleep!"