It was late and the full moon lit the alley enough to see the monster approaching. Sam and Dean moved in sync to take down the werewolf. Somewhere in the battle Sam's gun was knocked out of his hand and into the nearby dumpster.
Both boys stood panting and staring at the dumpster in question.
Sam was glaring and Dean was grinning. "Why don't you hop in and get your gun, Sammy?"
"Why don't you do it?" Sam groused.
"It ain't my gun. You should be more careful next time. Hurry up," Dean tossed over his shoulder as he headed to the car.
"Dean, please?"
Twenty minutes later Dean was handing Sam his trash covered gun. "I got it out, you can clean it. Dammit, one day I'm gonna learn not to look when you say please. Freakin' puppy dog eyes. One day, Sammy, they won't work cause I won't look."
"Dean will you clean my gun for me," Sam waited a beat. "Please?"
"Dammit!"