Title: Catching Up

Summary: Coda 10x17 - Inside Man. It's three days after Bobby's letter when the Winchester's carefully built façade of lies comes tumbling down and the first secret of many is revealed.

Warnings: Spoilers for the episode 10x17 Inside man. Swearing. Mentions of violence.

Author's note: I don't even know what this is— just take it, okay? ;)

Dean is sitting on his chair in the bunker's library, cup of coffee in one hand and newspaper held in the other, when something catches the younger brother's attention.

Dean's threadbare T- shirt has ridden up his back, exposing a three-inch strip of bare skin and Sam doesn't think before crossing over and pushing the fabric further up to get a better look at what he thinks he's seeing.

"What the hell—" Dean sputters and protests, squirming away from Sam's searching fingers, but by then it's already too late. "Dude, personal space?"

Sam isn't in the mood for his brother's failed attempts at sarcasm.

"Just a boring night of pool, huh?" Sam snorts, eyes narrowing in accusation. He dares Dean to deny that it hadn't been a lie- but his brother just throws him a blank look over the shoulder. "So I guess you just accidentally ran into your own cue stick?"

Because there's no way in hell that angry-looking red scratch mark that went square across the expanse of his brother's back had been self-inflicted.

Dean sighs. Averts his gaze. Takes a sip from his coffee like he can't be bothered to explain himself.

Sam wants to throttle him.

"I ran into some snotty frat kids. Figured I'd teach them a lesson."

Sam looks up at the ceiling, begging whoever was listening to give his brother a little more social apprehension, because going up against some snot-nosed rich kids whose parents were probably lawyers wasn't exactly something they needed on top of everything else that was going on in their lives.

"And they taught you a lesson instead, is that it? Did they – shit Dean, did they gang up on you or something?"

Dean sighs and puts the newspaper down on the table, getting serious. "I'm freaking fine, Sam. Give me some credit, here. You think I can't handle a couple of pissed off college kids?"

"You're unbelievable," Sam mutters, shaking his head, still pissed.

Dean shrugs his shoulders. "Say what you want, but that little stunt earned us 600 dollars… And we can really use the money."

Sam closes his eyes at that, because he knows they've been low on cash for a while now. And he can't even remember the last time he'd done anything to earn them some extra money himself.

Dean was probably just trying to help them out.

But still.

"You shouldn't have gone hustling by yourself."

Because they had tried that before. And it had never ended well.

There was just too much that could go wrong without backup- like getting a cue smashed up against your back when you weren't expecting it.

Dean snorts. "I said I was fine. Stop freaking out over this… it's just a fucking scratch."

"—a scratch the size of Texas. I hope you made that son of a bitch pay for that, because it's gonna leave one hell of a scar..."

Sam is taken aback by the bluntness of his own words.

Dean had said frat boys.

Boys… as in early-twenties... Practically kids… He should feel bad about Dean beating them up but all he feels instead is bitter disappointment over not having been there to do it himself.

Dean throws him a knowing smile over the shoulder and takes another sip from his coffee, shrugging a shoulder. He pulls an expensive looking watch from his jeans pocket and slams it down on the table with a trademark grin.

Sam frowns, takes a closer look and the words dry up on his tongue.

"Is that a…?"

"Yup," Dean wiggles his eyebrows, eyes sparkling with the kind of victorious glee he hadn't seen in his brother's face for far too long.

It's a Rolex, silver all over with gold engravings and if Sam would have to guess he'd say it's worth at least a few thousand dollars.

Huh. He doesn't even know what to say to that.

Should he be morally conflicted about this? Should he be impressed?

Sam sends another fleeting glance to where the angry mark is now hidden beneath his brother's T-shirt, before going for the second choice and smiling a little to himself. "Like I said, you're unbelievable."

The guy could have paid with his Daddy's mansion and it still wouldn't have been enough to compensate for having hurt Dean like that, if you asked him.

But the watch will pay for their next ten to fifteen trips to the grocery store and there are 600 dollars on top of that that they can spend on ammunition and new clothes and on other stuff they eventually need, so Sam is willing to let it slide…

Just this once.

"Yeah, yeah… you're welcome you moocher," Dean chuckles softly before draining the rest of his coffee and getting up from his seat at the library- this time not even trying to hide his wince from the injuries he'd sustained from the frat boy's attack.

Sam grimaces in sympathy and then remembers something, lips twisting into a suggestive smile of his own. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Think these frat boys are at the bar often?"

Dean meets Sam's eye.

They share a secretive smile.

Then the moment is broken and his brother's off to his own room. Probably googling eBay results on Rolex watches.

Sam can't tell exactly what his brother's muttering to himself when he walks off, but he's pretty sure he's imagining things when it sounds a whole lot like "….good influence on Crowley, ….sure as hell not on… little brother…"

He decides not to think too much about it.

I know this is super short and kind of pointless, but it still demanded to be written. ;) Please drop me a few words if you liked~~ Also contemplating to add another chapter about Dean's nightmares... who would be interested? :) Let me know! Cheers