Bobby was sure this was the stuff peace was made out of. Not that he necessarily knew what peace meant after so many years of living the opposite of it, but he was sure he had a good idea. Casting his line into the lake, his eyes swiveled to meet his two boys. They weren't really boys anymore: Fifteen and eleven respectively, but that didn't stop Bobby from thinking it.
"Dean, you got anything yet?" Bobby had thought this spot would be teaming with their dinner, but so far nothing had taken the bait.
"I got zilch." Dean blew a puff of air out, and stared at his brother. "Sam?"
"I got one," Sam replied with a shrug.
"How'd you manage that, idjit?"
"Easy."