"Sammy! Come on, open up!" Shouts Dean from outside their shared house in Lawrence, Kansas. "Dude, don't make me use my keys. Open the fucking door!"
A soul-crushing silence greets his requests, so Dean grudgingly takes out his keys and fiddles with the lock while balancing the groceries he just bought on his hip.
"You should start doing some stuff around here, you know, or I won't buy you any more salad." Dean jokingly threatens the empty couch, while adding another packet of salad-mix to the ever-growing pile on the kitchen counter.
"Why do you even like this shit? It's rabbit food. You need real food, like pie."
Silence.
"So what do you want for dinner? I'm thinking burgers."
Silence.
"Burgers it is!" exclaims Dean happily as he waltzes into the kitchen. "I knew you had some good taste in you somewhere. How many do you want?"
Silence.
"Of course you'd want so many. Getting a bit chubby over there, Sammy. We settle down for a year and you're already letting yourself go." Dean digs, smirking like he just got the hottest lay in the bar.
Silence.
When the burgers are cooked and assembled, Dean, as always, puts them on two plates and places them on opposite sides of the table, along with two bottles of beer. "Eat up!"
Silence.
"I know that this is salting and burning my 'no chick-flick moments' rule, but I missed you at the garage today." Says Dean conversationally as he finishes his dinner, completely ignoring the fact that Sam's burgers are going cold. "I don't know why, but it felt like I hadn't seen you for a year."
That's because Dean hasn't seen Sam since he killed himself a year ago.