"That's a dirty lie," Dean laughed, finally rolling off his brother to kick off his jeans and crawl under the blankets, yawning as he did. It was ridiculous how much angst, time travel shenanigans, and a distant familial death could take out of a guy, but Dean was pretty damn beat.
stretching out, he rolled onto his side, his back towards Sam, his place in the bed closer to the door on instinct. "We'll be okay, Sam. Just stop worrying," he told him again, trying to get comfy. After a few moments, he reached over and grabbed Sam's arm, pulling his brother towards him and tugging the arm over him.
"You say a word about this, and I'll kick your ass." Do not say the word spooning, Sam.