Dean watched his little brother carefully. He'd been acting strange, and there was clearly something bothering him. Finally, after deciding he'd rather face a bitch-fit than just leave it alone to fester, Dean said, "What's the matter, Sammy?"
Sam looked at him, startled. "What? Oh, nothing's the matter!"
Dean scoffed. "Sam, there's something on your mind. I could see it a mile away. Blind."
Sam frowned. "That doesn't…that's not a thing. Seriously though, Dean. I'm fine."
"No, you are not fine! Just tell me what's on your mind!" Dean cried.
Sam looked down at his shoes. "Dean, it doesn't matter. It's something small and stupid and irrelevant. You're going to think it's stupid. Because it's really, really dumb."
"It's something Crowley said," Sam started. He shook his head. "Dean, do I really need to-"
"Explain what's got you all worried? Yeah, Sam, ya do. Get on with it. What did Crowley say?"
"Well…" He looked at Dean, then back down at the floor. "Heclledmemsss," he mumbled.
"He what?" Dean asked.
Sam looked completely and utterly humiliated as he finally spoke. "He called me Moose."
Dean blinked. His eyebrows furrowed. "Are you kidding me? That's what this is about?"
Sam nodded miserably, his lower lip sticking out, making him look like a kid who'd just been grounded. "I told you it was stupid."
Dean let out a snort. "No kidding! Man, here I thought-why are you so worried anyway? So what if the king of Hell has a pet name for you! I mean, I can think of worse things! I can think of worse names, too."
"Okay, that's not necessary," Sam interrupted before Dean could list any. "Don't you think it's a little weird, though?"
Dean shrugged. "Dude, it's Crowley. He's all sorts of weird."
"Do I...Am I that much like a moose?"
"You do kinda remind me of Bullwinkle," Dean said, trying not to laugh.
"Shut up. If I'm Bullwinkle that makes you Rocky."
Dean grinned. "I kinda like that. Like Rocky Balboa. That's pretty fitting, don'tcha think?"
Sam gave him a bitchface and Dean held up his hands.
"I'm just kidding, Sammy! You have to admit, it is kind of…amoose-ing."
"Not funny, Dean!" Sam cried, throwing a pillow at his head.
Dean dodged it. "Come, on, Sammy! No need to get you antlers in a knot!"
"Do you want some chocolate moose?"
"I hate you."
"You put too much moose in your hair."
Sam flipped him the bird. "You're an asshole."
"I love you, little brother. What's the word for a baby moose? Moosette? Moosketeer?"
Sam groaned, facing the harsh reality.
It was going to be a long time before Dean stopped with the moose jokes.