"Spoilsport. Party pooper!"

:

"Dean," Sam frowned, though his tone was sympathetic. "It just wasn't the right moment."

"It's never the right moment," Dean pouted, his expression that of a five-year old who'd been denied an ice-cream. "It's been in the trunk all these years and I've never had the chance... Not once!"

"You know our line of business leans towards stealth, dude," Sam said consolingly. "A grenade launcher is overkill. Then it's kinda useless against ghost and spirits, and it doesn't come with salt shells either."

:

But Dean wasn't in the mood to be comforted. It was time to take a stand against his far too logical kid brother.
"Well. Fuck that. I'm gonna use it right now." He drew the Impala into the side of the isolated road which led to the bunker. "And nothin' you say is gonna stop me."

:

"Dean...!" Sam warned, voice more emphatic now. "You are NOT gonna fire a grenade launcher in the middle of the open countryside. What if you hit something, or worse somebody?"

"Dude, " Dean grunted, exiting the Impala and heading for the trunk. "Open countryside is perfect. We both know there's nothing in the radius of miles around the bunker. There's no way I'm ever gonna hit anything. Although I'm gonna aim for that fugly twisted tree. Put it out of its misery."

"This is so not a good idea," Sam warned in a last ditch attempt to stop his brother.

:
But Dean was already taking up position, the grenade launcher cradled in his arms like a lover

"Oh, sweetheart," he crooned. "Finally it's just you and me. Tonight we're gonna have some fun."
He lined up the shot, his finger on the firing mechanism, curling around it in anticipation of the whoosh the shell would make as it was expelled from the body of the weapon on its suicide run towards the tree.
Dean felt a warmth in his groin not dissimilar to sexual arousal. "Baby," he whispered."We really gotta do this more often. We are SO good together."

:

Applying just the right pressure to the trigger, he took a shallow breath and...fired. But there was no whoosh, no shell on its way to target. Only the click of a failed mechanism.

"No, no, no!" Dean almost sobbed. "Grenade launchers don't misfire...not ever. Not now when I was getting to use it."
He glanced unbelievingly at the weapon in his hands as if it had just stepped up and bit him.

:

By this time Sam had come to stand at his brother's side, his surprised gaze mirroring Dean's.
"Huh, guess this wasn't the right moment either," he commented wryly.

Dean gazed over at his brother in defeat. "I'm never gonna get to fire it, am I?"

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Listen. We're going to take a trip to the nearest firing range tomorrow and you're gonna get to pop shells to your heart's content. Promise."

:

He took the grenade launcher from his disappointed sibling's hands and replaced it in the trunk.
"Come on, Dean. I'm cooking tonight. Then we're gonna curl up with a movie. You get to choose and there'll be no complaints from me."

Dean glanced at his brother, a smile replacing the downcast expression. "Any movie? No bitching?"

"You got it, dude, " Sam confirmed. For now he reckoned his big brother deserved that at least!

The end