Sam: Hey Dean.
Dean: Why would you ruin a perfectly good paisley-themed motel room?
Sam: Um, it was mind-numbingly ugly….
Dean: Yeah, but you make such cute faces when you’re annoyed.
Sam: *bitchface*
Dean: Exactly. So. Why is there silk everywhere? The bed I can understand. ‘Cause, y’know, sex. But I am way too wiped to also be having wall-sex and floor-sex and chair-sex and table—is that pie?
Sam: Yeah. Made you four different kinds so you could choose.
Dean: …and we can have extra for the sex. Gotcha.
Sam: That’s not really…
Dean: So are the candles for the sex, too? ‘Cause I didn’t know you were into that.
Sam: I’m not into…You know what, Dean? Just eat your pie.
Dean: Yepths thsir. *swallows* So, Sammy, what’s this really all about?
Sam: Can’t I just want a romantic night?
Dean: Nuh uh. What are you up to?
Sam: Well, we’ve been doing this…
Dean: …butt-sex…
Sam: …Yeah. For a while, and I was thinking that maybe…
Dean: Aw, you should have told me you wanted to ‘make love.’
Sam: *while Dean sniggers* Shut. Up.
Dean: Fine. But let’s do the sex now. You want cherry pie or blueberry?
Sam: I DON’T WANT PIE!
Dean: Jesus, Sam. What did pie ever do to you?
Sam: I was just hoping that maybe this time I…
Dean: …Yes?
Sam: Maybe I could top?
Dean: Well, you did make me pie. And decorate the room. And you really want a romantic night. Plus, you talked to me about it, instead of just doing it. You know what?
Sam: *excited* Yeah?
Dean: That totally means you’re the girl. So I’m topping. Take your pants off!