"Hey, Sammy, how'd your date go?" Dean pulled his feet down from the coffee table, picking at his slice of pie. He made a lewd gesture. "Y'get lucky?"
Sam scoffed. "Dude, gross." He shoved Dean aside to sit beside him on the couch and flicked on the television. Nothing really good was on, but he settled for some Scrubs rerun. "It wasn't a date, either. We just got some drinks." He gave his older brother's shoulder a light punch.
Dean shook his head, laughed, and took a tremendous bite of his pie. "Sure, sure, keep tellin' yourself that Sam." He was blessedly silent for a few seconds, chewing, before he grinned wide again and said, "Gabe's definitely got the hots for you though."
Sam blushed. He elbowed Dean and turned up the volume. Dean cackled at him.
"You're such a little girl, Samantha!" Dean leered at Sam, and set his now-empty plate down on the coffee table. "Like a blushin' virgin!"
"Shut up, dickweed."
Dean smirked. "Bitch."
"Jerk." Sam ground the heel of his socked foot against Dean's toes. Dean swore and shoved him away with a grumble.
They fell into a begrudging silence and watched TV together, an unspoken agreement that as long as Dean didn't bring up Gabriel, Sam wouldn't beat him up. Though it was fair to say that if they got in a real fight, they'd both probably end up equally bruised and bloody.