"Well, maybe you'd be better off without me, Dean!" Sam shouted through bared teeth as he slammed the door to their motel room behind him.

Dean sighed, muttering into his hands. It was the same fight, just a different day. Still pissed off at Sam and seeing his angry exit as an opportunity for free time, Dean nodded as he formed an idea of what to do that day. He stood up from where he sat on the creaky bed and breathed in through his nose.

"Cas," he breathed out, in his coarse, gruff low-pitched voice that sounded more like a pained grunt than a prayer. "Cas, you there?

"Yes, Dean," Castiel spoke in a monotone voice, appearing a foot's length behind Dean with only a flap of his angel wings as a warning. He had grown accustomed to these fights between the brothers and often came to comfort Dean during the repercussions. "Shall we go get some pie?"

Dean's eyes lit up and his heart beat a little faster, for he felt giddy thinking about how Cas acknowledged and remembered his love of pie, although it is one of his defining features. Regaining his original train of thought, he looked back down again, slightly embarrassed

"Um, well…" he trailed off, staring daggers into his worn-out sneakers. "I was thinking maybe we could do something different today?"

He looked up again with a half-pained smile, his voice almost a whisper with its usual Dean gruffness.

Cas looked down at Dean's unintentional puppy eyes as the light of the unsteady fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling reflected off of their glassy green. He cocked his head slightly to the side and the corners of his mouth folded into a slight frown, confused.

"What do you mean, different? Are we not following the usual routine?"

"No, Cas," Dean looked him straight in the eyes now. "Sometimes it's good to do something different, you know? It gives life some variety."

"Different throws you off guard, and you become unprepared for whatever may happen." Cas started using his reciting voice, as if lecturing Dean on his foolish attitude. "Different is very bad. Different is unstable. Different is precarious. Different is—"

"Alright Cas," Dean interrupted, slightly annoyed. He began talking progressively faster, eager to get his point across with as little Cas-judgement as possible. "Not this type of different. We're not going to be risking our lives here. I was just wondering…if maybe you wanted to go laser tagging."

"What? Laser tagging?" Cas's eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open, his even gruffer voice falling into a higher pitched octave of questioning. "I don't know what that is, but it sounds very dangerous. Dean, I don't think this is a good idea."

Heartened and amused by Cas's genuine concern, Dean let out a low, rich laugh for the first time in days.

"No, Cas, don't you worry. You're gonna love it, I swear." Dean laughed again. "Man, I haven't gone laser tagging in years. I knew you wouldn't judge me. Especially since you don't have the slightest clue what it even is."

Hearing the smile in Dean's voice, Cas breathed out a little, relieved that Dean had not launched into a suicide mission.

After explaining and re-explaining the game several times, Dean said sternly, his face growing serious, "Now, can you tell me what you're supposed to do in laser tagging?"

"Why would I have to explain it to you if you already know?" Cas cocked his head again in his usual curious way.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

"Yes Cas, I already know, but I want you to tell me so that I can make sure you know."

"I don't understand your reasoning," Cas expressed exasperatedly, "but okay. So we all put on these costumes first. Afterwards, we get guns that don't actually kill people. As to why someone would invent such a useless thing, I have no clue. And also the fact that one would think to make a game out of symbolically shooting someone—"

"Cas. Stay on topic." Dean cleared his throat.

"Oh, right. So we have these guns that shoot lasers, and these lasers also do not kill people for reasons unknown—"

"Castiel, these reasons are not mysteries!" Dean clasped his head into his hands and slowly lifted it back up again so that only his eyes could be seen above his fingertips and his lips spoke between his fingers. "It's a game. We get to feel all the exhilaration and excitement of being on teams and shooting the other team without anyone actually getting hurt. Jesus."

"Yes, but I don't see how those are legitimate reasons to pay one of these institutions to fake shoot someone. Anyway," Cas continued, eager to get back on track before Dean told him to, "we try to shoot as many people as possible while minimizing the number of times we get shot."

"Good, Cas," Dean smiled, patting him roughly on the back. "I think you're ready."