Dean watched Sam fold up his clothes too and rolled his eyes a bit, not even bothering to answer the question as Sam came to lie on the bed. Chuckling tiredly, Dean rubbed at his eye, pushing up onto one elbow as he did. "Yeah, and I'm a sharper shot than you," he commented, sliding his hand over Sam's jaw and leaning down to kiss him, absently wondering if either of them had the energy for him to top Sam now, while his defences were lowered and he'd already been satisfied once. He wanted to, so badly, but they were both ridiculously tired.
"You're not supposed to get yourself nearly killed," he finally complained, his voice low as he nudged his nose against Sam's and kissed the little mole beside his nose, his hand stroking over Sam's cheek and back to curl against his neck. Dean was having trouble finding the way-point between brother and lover, and while he still wanted to elbow him in the ribs and call him a kid, he also wanted to just kiss him for hours and admit he might actually being feeling a little bit of that in love feeling. It was better to just stay quiet.
Catching Sam's mouth, Dean pressed into the kiss with a low noise in his throat, eyes closing tight.