Dean eased Cas into a chair before pulling out their square fold-out card table and setting it up, scooting it over Cas' lap. He brought out a square red box and opened it, tossing the paper score pad to Cas and pulling five dice out.
"Yahtzee," he announced. "The big daddy of all dice games. Come on, we'll do a few practice rolls before Sam gets here so you can get the hang of how to play." He picked up the dice and placed them in Cas' palm, folding the other man's fingers over the cubes. "Go ahead and blow on them, for luck."
That earned him a squint from Cas. "I'm certain exhaling carbon dioxide has nothing to do with-"
Dean grabbed his closed hand and put his lips on the opening, cutting Cas short. He lingered a second too long, looking up at Cas before blowing on the dice.
"There. Now roll them."
Cas let the dice fall from his hand, no flourish, no finesse. Dean looked at the numbers on the table and started to arrange them in different combinations to show Cas his options.
Cas picked up the score pad and studied the rows on it. "I can see the appeal. It's all up to chance. If you lose, it's not your fault."
Dean frowned at him, wondering if there was more to him saying that than an observation on the game. "There's a little strategy as to picking what category to use your rolls on. You don't want to get stuck without the bonus points at the top."
Sam walked in huffily and pulled a chair to the table, turning it backwards before plopping down.
"Come on, Sammy. Let's roll."
Sam peeled himself a scorecard off the top of the pad. Dean wrote CAS in block letters on the top of one page, then his own name on another. He spent most of the game focusing more on Cas' rolls than his own, taking frequent opportunities to lean over and whisper tips in Cas' ear, pointing out dice combinations to his advantage despite Sam's grumbling. After the three of them had won two rounds each, Cas' mouth stretched wide into a monstrous yawn. Dean's heart panged a little at the sight, the angel who used to stand watch awake every night now a man who needed regular sleep like the rest of them. They'd call the game a draw.
"Looks like you'd better get to bed, buddy," Dean told him. "Come on, I'll walk you."
