"Quit changing my ringtones to different Halloween tones," Sam asked for what just had to be the thousandth time.
Dean smirked at him from across the table, juice dribbling down his arm as he lifted his heart attack-inducing burger. "What's the matter, Sammy? Why don't you like it?"
Sam inhaled through his nose with measured calm, held it for a moment longer than normal, and then exhaled slowly before speaking. "Because it's the middle of February. And because I already had the settings on my phone how I wanted them. And because it's childish and immature!" He snapped his mouth shut after the last reason, realizing too late that his voice had been rising in volume with each complaint. A quick glance around the diner revealed that the patrons seated closest to them were frowning at the Winchesters with disapproval. Sam sent them what he hoped was an apologetic hand wave, accompanied by a smile he'd been told could charm the hair off a black dog, though he had yet to test the theory. When he turned his attention back to his brother, the smile packed a bag and headed south for warmer weather.
"I don't know, man. I mean, they fit, don't they?" Dean grinned, showcasing masticated ground beef, tomatoes and lettuce, with an onion waving cheerfully at Sam from the corner of his mouth.
Disgusted, Sam looked away, just in time to catch a six year old across the dining area jamming a french fry up his nostril. Apparently the only safe object to view was his cell phone, positioned in the center of the table, a witness in the stand.
"Dude, half the contacts in your phone are monsters. I was just trying to reflect that," Dean explained without remorse.
Sam glared at him and retracted his phone, cradling it in his hands as he set about repairing the damage Dean had done.