[ But Dean, at least to some small extent, thinks this is what's best for Sam. Thinks he needs this, this shove into reality, this fight. It's what Dean would need after all, to be physically grappled towards understanding and so Sam requires it as well. There's no gentle touches to this, no kindness, and Dean can't help but situate himself right in the middle of the teasing aspect of it all because it's what he does best.

It's what he knows, this brutality, this encouragement, trying to egg Sam on until he stumbles directly into action. ]

Nah, course not. I'll just say it for you.

[ But he finally begins to shift, to wriggle his way up off his bed and to his feet, stretching out on his toes so he can purposefully point his bottle of beer in Sam's direction, as if he needed the additional height to more better make his point. ]

C'mon man- someone around here should be gettin' some. It's drier than the Sahara around here. Just, stop thinking about it so damn hard.