Dean was ranting and pacing at the end of you and Sam's bed, having intruded on your nightly 'cuddle while Sam reads to you' ritual. Crowley was supposed to be finding the first blade for you guys, but he'd been MIA for weeks.

"He goes missing for weeks on end without a peep? Well, not one that makes sense, anyway. Listen to this."

Dean grunts, playing a voicemail on his phone while Sam absently strokes your arm.

"Dean. Um... nmmhnnm."

Crowley's voice filters through the phone and Sam chuckles.

"Wait a second. Did he... Drunk-dial you?"

Dean rolls his eyes, plopping in bed on the other side of you.

"Guess so. Can't believe I trusted him to actually get the damn thing on his own."

"Heartbreaking, Dean. But, d'you mind talking about this later? You're kind of…interupting."

Sam says, brushing your hair gently while Dean stiffens up.

"No I wasn't? I checked. I waited outside the door for five whole minutes to listen if you two were goin' at it before comin' in and all I heard was you talkin' like a loser."

Sam hesitates, processing the information.

"First…don't listen outside our door for sex…and second, we do other stuff that's intimate other than being physical. You do understand that love isn’t just about sex, right?"

Dean makes a face, getting up.

"Somehow, I'd rather you tell me you were bending her over the dresser."