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"Yippie ki-yay, motherfucker!" Dean shrieks, completely failing to disguise the joy in his voice. Not that the manic smile on his face isn't a dead giveaway that Dean is utterly thrilled with this hunt. He's just pulled the trigger of an RPG, since that's the only weapon they'd managed to get a hold of which was adequate firepower against their latest hunt, but still fit in the Impala.
"Jesus Christ, Dean. Could you at least pretend to be intimidated by the fucking thirty foot lizard that's trying to eat us?!" Sam yells over the deafening explosion as the grenade hits the rock face, and huge boulders descend into the pissed off creature's path.
Dean giggles like a miscreant school boy, not the least bit ashamed. "Check your facts, bitch. They're reptiles, not lizards."
Because the semantics are what really matters at a time like this, when there's a giant, scary, scaly, feathery beast baying for their blood. Sam is about to point this out when the monster roars in pained anger, an earth-shaking, bone-rattling noise that has him ducking and hiding instead. Fuck this, at this point, Sam would prefer to be hunting another killer clown than dealing with this shit. Naturally, Dean takes this moment to dart up from behind their defensive position. He watches avidly as Cas materialises on the monster's back and beheads it with one clean sweep of the ridiculously huge broadsword gripped by both his hands.
"Awesome," Dean breathes out, in his husky I-want-that voice, which Sam really, really wishes he didn't recogise so easily. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he's going to be sleeping in a separate motel room from Dean and Cas tonight. He doesn't begrudge their happiness, but there are just some things little brothers don't need to overhear. Again.
Cas flutters into existence beside them, and Dean jumps up to plant a kiss on his boyfriend.
"You were awesome babe," Dean declares when they part. As usual, Cas responds to the praise with a huge but sheepish grin, like he doesn't think he's really done anything to warrant it, but he'll take it anyway.
"Can we please just salt and burn the thing and gank the warlock already, before he conjures another one?" Sam interrupts, because seriously.
"Dude, you're such a killjoy sometimes." Dean complains; "We just took out a dinosaur, Sammy. A motherfucking prehistoric son of a bitch, and we smoked it. Admit it, you liked it a little."
Sam rolls his eyes, but doesn't bother to mask the grin that breaks out across his lips. Alright, so it was a little cool.
