Dean Winchester paced before the storefront of the small shop in rural Oregon, fingering a folded piece of paper in the front pocket of his jeans. He shivered slightly, in spite of the red plaid flannel he wore over his grey T-shirt. The day was unseasonably cool, with a low ceiling of dull clouds. The weather perfectly reflected Dean's somber mood.

I can do this, he told himself. Pushing open the glass door with his good arm, he tried not to jostle the sling protecting his right wrist. The bells on the door happily signaled his arrival.

Dean stood just inside the door and stared at the crowded shelving, with row after row of near-identical items. The stuffy air smelled of mothballs. It took every ounce of self-preservation he had not to run out of the shop.

"Be right there," came a man's voice from the back. If Dean hadn't been so nervous, it might have registered that the person sounded familiar.

Dean began to pace around the small room, heart hammering. He stepped close enough to look at the prices and swallowed hard. Better than Wal-Mart, he thought, but the $50 that Dad had given him wouldn't even come close. Dean began to mentally catalogue the money that he had squirreled away for emergencies and had just reached the conclusion that it was pointless, when a tall man stood before him.

"May I help you?"

Dean's eyes travelled up the light gray suit, past the baby pink tie, and rested on the stranger's face. His green eyes widened to comical proportions. "Sammy?"

His brother wore a similar quizzical expression. "Dean?" Sam pushed his bangs off his face and wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "What're you doing here?"

Not buying glasses, Dean thought quickly. "Just ... uh ... checking up on you." His gaze dropped to the floor as he tried to hide the redness in his cheeks.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked with a frown, eyeing the sling and the freshly stitched gash over Dean's right eye. "Is Dad with you?"

Sam's voice trembled ever so slightly at the mention of their father and Dean brought his full attention back to his little brother. He ignored Sam's first question in favor of the second. "Yeah, but he's not with me right now. He's across town at Wal-Mart, loading up on supplies."

Sam relaxed fractionally and nodded. "Good." He studied his brother. "It's ... it's good to see you, Dean."

Dean gave him a sad smile. "You too, Sammy."

A burly older man emerged from the back and Sam stiffened. On reflex, Dean was instantly on guard too. "Sam, I need those ..." The gruff tone changed instantly. "Oh, I didn't realize you were with a customer." He gave both men a wide smile as he walked over.

Sam's puppy dog eyes met Dean's. Play along. Please.

Dean extended his non-injured left hand. "Dean. Dean Win ... Winters."

"George Myers." The man returned the awkward handshake. He smelled of kielbasa and cigarette smoke; not the freshest of smells but nothing to explain why his moose of a brother hadn't relaxed his rigid posture at all. "What brings you in today?"

Dean connected the dots and hoped he was making the right call. Myers would monopolize his limited time with Sam if Dean didn't handle this right. "Sam here was helping me pick out some new ..." He cast around for inspiration. "Lens cloths," he finished, lamely.

Sam stood behind the shop owner rolling his eyes, but he gave Dean a half grin anyway.

With a sizable sale off the table, Myers was no longer interested in Dean. "Good, good," he said, patting Sam roughly on the back. "I'm sure the kid here will fix you right up." Sam's face tightened and Dean felt a protective surge he hadn't experienced in some time. "Remember, Sam, you need to finish restocking later."

"Yes, sir." It was almost funny, watching Sam's bitch face when it was directed - however discretely - at someone else.

As soon as the older man left for the stockroom, Sam's shoulders relaxed.

"What was that about?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "I'm staying with my girlfriend Jess' family for the summer. Her dad's a doctor here and he convinced Mr. Myers to give me a job while I'm in town." His brother blew out a breath. "But business has been slow and I'm not exactly earning my keep."

Dean frowned, looking around the optical shop. "I wish I could help you, Sammy, but I can't afford anything in here."

Sam's hazel eyes narrowed in the way they did when he'd unlocked a puzzle. "You need glasses?"

"I didn't ..." Mean to say that, Dean thought. He closed his eyes briefly under the scrutiny. With reluctance, he reached into his pocket and handed Sam his prescription.

When Dean opened his eyes, Sam had fixed him with a concerned expression. "You didn't know I was here, did you? That's why you looked so surprised to see me."

Dean couldn't deny his little brother when Sam looked at him with those eyes. He swallowed and nodded. "I thought you were at Stanford." Dean looked away. "The ... uh ... the eye doc at Wal-Mart said you guys have the best prices in town."

Sam nodded, digesting that. "How much did Dad give you?"

"Fifty bucks. And a fake credit card that's almost tapped out." As Sam's eyes widened, Dean quickly added, "But I ain't using that here, obviously. I got another twenty on me."

Sam appeared to do the mental math before he frowned. Shaking his head, he started to hand the script back, before snatching it up again and examining it more closely.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was puzzled. "Do you wear glasses now?" As the older brother shook his head, Sam's eyebrows lifted. "Then you shouldn't be driving." Sam's eyes raked over his brother's right side. "Is that why you got hurt? You couldn't see what you were tracking? And Dad finally figured it out and made you get your eyes checked?" When Dean didn't reply, Sam pressed on. "Dean, you can't hunt until you can see properly. It's not safe."

Dean grabbed back the prescription. "How I spend my time is none of your business, Sammy. You wanted nothing to do with the family business, remember?" He shoved the script back into his pocket and moved toward the door.

Sam took a long stride and placed a careful hand on Dean's injured side. "I never said I wanted out of the family, Dean. That was all Dad." When Dean turned to look at him, Sam's eyes reflected the love and concern that he had missed so much since Sammy left for college.

"Look," his brother went on. "Let me pay for your glasses." As Dean shook his head, Sam nodded. "I've got the money saved back." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a wad of twenties, stuffing them into Dean's sling. "You'll be doing me a favor." He gestured at the back room. "As long as you continue to pretend you don't know me. Myers might even give me a raise." When Dean still didn't reply, Sam admitted, "Dean, I've been working here for over two weeks and I haven't sold a single thing. I need your help."

"Fine." He handed the script back and let Sam lead him to a rack of titanium frames flanking a large mirror. As he tried on the first pair, Dean frowned at his reflection. "Bitch," he directed at his brother.

Sam's reflection smiled back at him. "Jerk."

Not mine, don't own. Obviously, if I did, the boys would wear glasses and/or contacts.

The first fic I wrote for this fandom, Never Show Weakness, was based on a prompt where Dean got glasses while Sam was at Stanford, but never told him. I'm not sure where this one came from, but it's inspired from the same prompt. It's always bugged me that Sam seemed to cut off all ties with Dean after he left for college. I guess I wanted some explanation for that too.

I have a loose idea for continuing this, so I'm leaving it open for now. Maybe I'll add another chapter sometime. Cross-posted at Archive of Our Own.

Thanks for reading!