"If you try to take my stick again," Sam warned, snatching the stick away from Dean for the third time, "I will poke you in the eye."
Dean rolled his eyes so hard he must have injured himself, and stuffed two uncooked marshmallows into his mouth. "The'ww bettuw thish way," he said, garbled.
"And I'm not playing fluffy bunny," Sam said, easing his marshmallow back into the fire. "Because you'll actually die, and that's not exactly the way I pictured you going."
Dean had the grace to look wounded, clapping a hand over his heart. "Aw, Shammy," he said, and swallowed with effort. "I never knew you cared."
"Shut up," Sam said. The marshmallow on the end of his stick was starting to go golden brown, just the way he liked it. He turned it carefully so they other side would get the same treatment.
"Ohmigod ghosts," Dean shouted, jostling his elbow roughly. The marshmallow came loose from the stick, dangled by a molten sugar drip, and fell into the fire.
"False alarm," Dean said. "It was a mongoose."
"You don't know what a mongoose sounds like!" Sam cried, deprived of his perfect marshmallow.
"Tough," Dean said. "Now share."