Sam's on the phone with Bobby when Dean comes home, throwing his jacket on the floor and his keys on the coffee table. Sam gives him a sharp look from across the room, pointing at the jacket while he says, "Yeah, Bobby, I know," and Dean makes a show of sighing, picking his jacket up, and hanging it up on the rack.
Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to the kitchen, and now Dean can smell the warm spicy scent of chili filling the apartment. Fuck yeah, Sam's chili rocks. It's one of the only dishes he can cook, true, but he's damn good at it. Dean thinks, not for the first time, that they can't live on beans and beef, maybe he should get Sam a cookbook for his birthday, but the chili never disappoints.
He sneaks up behind Sam and hooks his chin over Sam's shoulder, curling his arms around his brother's waist. Sam hates being crowded, especially when he's cooking, and he gives Dean a well-meaning jab in the ribs with his elbow.
"Could it be a golem?" he says into the phone. "I know Miller said it 'vanished,' but the residue points to something inorganic."
Dean blows a breath in his ear and backs off, taking a step across their tiny kitchen to open the fridge and dig out a beer. He doesn't get one for Sam, just to spite him, and pops the lid off using brute force and the countertop.
"Hold on a sec," Sam says, and covers the mouthpiece of his phone with his thumb. "Hi honey, nice to see you, how was work? Get out of the kitchen before I stab you."
Dean slaps him on the ass, good and hard, and softens the blow with a quick kiss to Sam's cheek. Sam's mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but instead he propels Dean out the door with a hand on his shoulder and uncovers the phone.
"No, Dean just got back," he says, and when Dean glances back at him, he is smiling. "Yeah, same as ever."