Disclaimer: Don't own them.
"Put your belt back on, you're being ridiculous," Sam huffed in annoyance.
"Bend over," Dean said as he snapped his belt.
"No."
"Ten, twenty licks ought to do it. BEND OVER," Dean continued to snap the belt.
"It wasn't even my fault. How could I know that girl would key your car?"
"You said she looked crazy. Never turn down crazy chicks when you're in my car, they always go for a man's ride when they get burned. Have I taught you anything?" Dean looked offended.
Sam sighed. "Rule 37. I forgot. Fine. I'll take 3 licks, cause I'm sorry."
"Three licks? You're not really sorry," Dean stated as he refastened his belt. "I'm gonna hit you where it'll really hurt. You're buying the beer for a month and I get to pick the hunts. And I'm gonna tell Bobby you signed him up for all those circulars and newsletters he gets every month."
"You signed him up for all that crap! He'll kill me. Dean put away your phone!"