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“Why did you keep choosing paper, though?”
“I didn’t keep choosing paper, Cas, I strategically used paper where it should’ve been beneficial -”
“It’s not strategizing if you are just throwing darts with your eyes shut, Dean.”
“Right, well, at least I didn’t try to introduce an entirely new move, like hammer?”
“That was a strategy, and a proper one - how else could I have known we were limited to only the three elements? How could I have known that paper would be the only opponent to rock?”
“Well, you don’t smash rocks with hammers -"
"Historically, yes, humans do -"
"- and it looked like you were jerking a dick.”
“No, it did not, or you would not have guessed correctly that it was a hammer. I am shutting the light now, Dean.”
“It did. It looked like you were jerking a big ‘ol dick at Sam.”
As the light goes out, Castiel sighs long-sufferingly and grumbles, “not to be confused with the big, old dick standing next to him, I suppose.”
“Yeah, you wish you could jerk my big dick.”
“The size of your dick means very little if the majority of it is located in your personality, Dean.”
Barking a startled, delighted laugh, Dean smacks Castiel’s chest and tells him, “that was surprisingly sharp. Good work. You’re learning, young Padawan.”
After a few beats of silence, Castiel asks, “is it truly unpleasant? Sharing a bed with me?”
“Nah, man,” Dean answers, glad the darkness can shroud his flushed face, “it's not like it's you, I - I’m just, uh - not one for bunking, you know?”
“I don’t know, but I believe you.”
“... you like sharing?”
“Mm,” Castiel hums noncommittally, “with anyone? No. With you? I have never minded.”
“Really?” Dean wonders innocently, turning his head to face Cas in the dark, though he can’t see anything.
“Really,” Castiel reaffirms, the glossy shine of his eyes somehow visible through the dark cut of the night, “I prefer to have you close than to not. This way, I know you are safe.”
A flustered smile tickles Dean’s lips, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep that dumb look off his face despite the fact that Cas probably wouldn’t even be able to see it.
“Alright, cheese-ball, that’s - let’s call it a night, huh?”
“... what else would I call it, Dean?”
It’s Dean’s turn to sigh long-sufferingly, but this time, he can’t help the smile that works its way onto his face.