A loud laugh erupted from the eldest Winchester as he pirouetted in a storm of pride, his red flannel flying out around him as he looked so pleasantly carefree.
He'd knocked seven of the pins down and clearly was very happy with his achievement. It was odd really, to have this moment of joy so far down an endless road of panic. In this moment, none of it mattered, they were just two boys enjoying a good beer and a game of bowling. It was sort of strange.
Dean had taken him a few when he was younger but he'd been about six or seven at the time. Neither of them had been in years together. Decades.
Last time Sam could remember a trip to the alley was when he was with Jessica. It had been one of their earliest dates and from then on had become a regular past time. In fact, Sam had been rather good at it.
The younger Winchester laughed gently, his own bottle raising as a form of applause for Dean. It was always nice to see his big brother smile. Especially wearing those goofy bowling shoes. It had been on a whim they had chosen to do this, and Dean may have never said yes if it hadn't have been for the booze inside him.
"Alright, Rapunzel, your turn." Dean dunked himself down on the chair beside Sam, his eyes dragging behind to spy on a pretty lady for a couple of moments before giving a cheeky smile and plucking up his beer. "Try to hit the pins this time." He added, glancing up at the scoreboard.
Sam looked at the board too, a devious smile mimicking on his lips. Dean had 42 points so far, Sam was on 26. At the tease, Sam nodded, rising to his feet.
"You know I've been goin' easy on you right?" Sam perked up, dragging a hand through his hair and picking up a heavy but suitable size thirteen ball.
"What? I always beat you when we were kids."
"That was like twenty years ago. You haven't even hit a spare, let alone a strike."
Dean's eyes widened slightly as if offended by his little brother's burn, "Woahoho, Sam. Strong words. You think you can get a strike?"
"I KNOW I can get a strike."
"How much you bettin'?"
Sam frowned slightly, pausing in genuine thought. Dean was making this a bet. Okay.
"I bet you a pie."
"A pie? C'mon, Sammy. That's weak. You can buy me pie whenever."
"Uh.." He glanced around, the beer the only thing in sight. He was going to get a strike, the higher the stakes, the more pleasing the win would be.
This was it, a chance to ask for whatever he wanted just from one single roll. Dean would be gobsmacked, after all, the most Sam had rolled all night was a 5 and a 2 in one round. Of course his brother's expectations were low. But Sam hadn't been trying. He knew he could kick Dean's ass in a second.
He glanced down the alley, the ten pins waiting for him to make his mark. The sound of the jukebox and the clashing of dishes reminded him that people beside them were also bowling, perhaps making bets of their own. This was the most normal thing he and Dean had done as brothers besides sleeping under the same roof.
His lips turned into a grin and he played with the bowling ball in his fingers.
"How about if I win, I get to drive the Impala for a month."
"A month? Seems a bit long. I say a week."
"Two months."
"What?!"
"Thought you were positive I couldn't score a strike?"
"Fine! Then I get to pick my prize if you lose."
Sam made a so-so expression and stepped a little closer to the alley. "Name your price."
"If I win, then…" Dean looked around at their table and Sam watched as a devilish smile bore itself into his cheeks, looking up at his brother.
"If I win… then I get to cut your hair."
Sam froze up, even in his stance, ready at the alley.
His voice came out as a whisper, "You wouldn't dare."
"Clippers an' all, Sammy!" Dean made a motion with his hands, his bottle swinging about playfully as he mocked the buzzing of the shaver.
"But that's so not fai-"
Dean brought a hand up to his ear, that smirk still on his face, "Oh- Oh, what was that Mr-I-know-I-can-get-a-strike?"
"Fine! You'll be kicking yourself when I'll be driving us home."
Dean laughed out loud and Sam couldn't help but smile, his pose returning back to the alley. With all his focus - and new found hope - he swung the ball back and watched as it left his fingers.