"Dude, hand me that plate."
Charlie had practically fallen asleep at the table. Sam had disappeared after helping her get to bed. One of their old cassettes was playing softly on the radio.
Dean hummed along absently as he cleared the table.
Cas got up and began to help him, hiding a smirk at Dean's off-key rendition of "Fortunate Son".
They didn't really talk. Didn't need to. It was 11:30 on a Tuesday night, they'd just had pizza, Cas was mostly an angel and Dean was somewhat a demon.
And they washed dishes together at the sink, standing in comfortable silence.