Dean hadn't stopped with the jokes for almost three days. You had gotten blackout drunk for a case to kill a shojo, since the only way to see it was to be wasted. You barely ever drank that much, and Sam was being extra gentle with you to make sure you were back in good health.

"Y'know, that table dance was really sexy, My Persona. I think Sammy here wouldn't mind a little rendition."

Sam glowers at his brother, letting his fork fall onto his plate.

"Dude, seriously."

Dean shrugs, finishing his burger. Sam sighs, his eyes drifting over to you on your spot next to him. You were eating breakfast food for lunch, which he was happy about. You'd been too scared to eat much of anything for a couple days out of fear of throwing them up. Which he tried to tell you wasn't something to worry about; he made sure you were plenty hydrated and replenished before even offering you food. But whatever you say goes, and when you ask him to make you soup, he makes you soup. Even if you want it four meals in a row.

"Good food?"

He asks you softly, wiping a bit of syrup off the corner of your mouth with his thumb as you nod. Dean gives him another smug look, but manages to keep his goddamn mouth shut this time. He was right anyways. Sam would've loved a rendition of that table dance you did at the bar on Monday night, but he never wanted to get you that drunk again.