Author's Note:

Hi guys! I'm back after a long wait. Here's a new story, let me know what you think! Reviews would be awesome if you could spare the time to say something :) It means a lot to me and helps me keep motivated

"Summer break," Dean mused out loud, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he stared at the shitty day-time TV choices, "it's summer break and we're up as if school was still on."

"College really beats a schedule into you," Jet shrugged, his thumb periodically pressing a button on the remote. "Maybe Netflix?"

"It'll take like an hour to pick something we both want to watch."

"Mm…"

They sat in silence for another five minutes as Jet circled through the same options, "Okay," Dean rubbed his face tiredly, "I'm putting Netflix on."

"Cool, horror movie?" Jet tossed the remote Dean's way and dropped his arm like dead weight.

"Too early, plus I don't feel like committing to a movie… maybe we could watch a show?"

"But then we have to keep watching it, not sure I'm up for that either."

Dean furrowed his brow, "'Kay, then maybe a show that you don't need to watch in succession? Something we can stop whenever."

"That sounds good," Jet sat upright and watched Dean scroll through their options. "Sam up yet?"

"Nah, he was snoring up a storm, figured I'd let him sleep in."

"He's got class today, doesn't he? High school doesn't break 'til June."

"Yeah, he's got another two months." Dean smirked, "But his alarm didn't go off, that's not my problem."

"You're an ass," Jet smirked in amusement. As they flipped through the different shows he lit up, pointing at the screen he said "Oh! Kenny vs. Spenny, let's watch that."

Dean silently agreed by picking an episode, perfectly dumb, vulgar comedy for a lazy Monday. "Hey, I forgot to ask, you working for MacLeod again this summer?"

"Yeah," Jet answered begrudgingly. "Four months of doing shit around his house pays for a year of classes, how could I say no to that?"

"By saying it just like that; 'no.'"

"Hilarious."

"No man, I'm serious. Dude's creepy."

"He's old, that doesn't mean he's creepy."

Dean rolled his eyes, "He's old and creepy, and that makes it worse. He's like 80 and he's as bad as Herbert from Family Guy."

Jet burst into laughter despite attempting to fight it. He slid his hand down his face, covering his eyes. "Oh my god," he gasped and smacked Dean's arm, "Don't do that to me, I have to work for him all summer!"

"Just sayin', bro." Dean grinned, "When's your first day?"

Still stifling his giggles, Jet picked up his phone and checked his calendar, "Tomorrow, I start at 8."

"Sucks."

"Yep." Jet exhaled heavily, dropped his phone and lifted his shirt, "how're my assets?"

"Maybe sit up and they wouldn't look so rolly-polly."

"Says the guy who eats cookie dough straight out of the Pillsbury can."

Dean swatted Jet's head with the back of his hand, "You did it too, ass-hat."

Jet smacked him back, Dean would've argued at least twice as hard. "I only ate half, you ate the whole damn thing, you fuckin' dick."

The sound of frantic footsteps interrupted their little fight; both froze and listened to the bathroom door close. "Sammy's up." Dean said quietly.

"Boy's gonna be pissed we didn't wake him."

"Maybe, don't mention we knew he was there."

Jet grinned with a quiet huff of laughter, "Was planning on it."

Moments later Sam rushed down the hall to them, his hair a disaster and his face covered in pillow creases. "Dean," he didn't sound angry, tired and panicked more covered his tone. "Did you pay the water bill?"

"Uh," Dean was thrown off, he expected the chance to say something like 'shouldn't you be at school.' However suddenly being tossed into the world of bills and adulthood took his words away.

"That's a negative," Jet said after the extended silence, he sighed annoyedly with the flattest expression. "Man, seriously? You had one job!"

"I'm sorry!" Dean raised his hands in defense, "I'll call now and fix it."

"Didn't you guys notice?" Sam looked at Jet while Dean fumbled for his phone.

"We got up pretty early," Jet turned around and leaned over the back of the couch, watching Sam with a half smile, "Water was runnin' just fine at 7. They must've just shut it off."

Sam groaned and dropped down onto the floor like the world was ending. He leaned against the wall and dropped his head, "I already missed half of calculus…"

"Might as well stay home the rest of the day then," Jet grinned and earned himself a glare from Sam.

"I'm not like you two; I plan on graduating the first time around." Sam leaned with all his weight and slid down until he was flat on the hideously tiled floor. "I'm almost done, two more months 'til graduation."

Jet hummed softly, distracted by the ringing of his phone. He looked at the display and frowned, "Who the fuck-" he tapped the answer button "hello?"

"Hello," Dean had just found the number to get their water back on, he looked at Jet frustratedly as they tried to talk at the same time. Their impromptu decision to 'see who could talk louder during the other's phone call' made Sam roll his eyes. Jet finally scrunched up his nose at Dean and got up to escape to the basement. Dean won that round, though not by much.

Sam remained sprawled on the floor and stared at the ceiling, he listened to Dean's negotiation skills without saying a word. It wasn't necessary to speak, everyone in the household was aware that Dean shouldn't have been in charge of the water bill that month.

Jet's call was far shorter than Dean's, getting utilities up and running again wasn't often a simple task. "Dude," Jet walked back into the living room area, not speaking to either Winchester in particular, mostly just talking to the room. "I'm out of a fucking job."

"What?" Sam lifted his head and noticed that Jet was serious so he sat up at attention. "Why? What happened?"

"MacLeod's dead."

Sam didn't say anything; he inhaled like he meant to speak but instead looked at the floor as if words would float out of it.

Dean on the other hand covered his phone's speaker, "Took him long enough,"

"Dean," Sam hissed exasperatedly as he scowled at his brother. Dean mouthed 'what' once but went back to his conversation about their water. Sam looked up at Jet who stood contemplatively with his arms crossed, "What's the plan now?"

"I have no idea, but on Monday I've gotta go meet his lawyer."

"Seriously?" Sam furrowed his brow, "What for?"

"Apparently he left me something," Jet shrugged and walked back over to the couch, tossing himself over the back of it and landing heavily on the cushions and Dean.

Dean shoved his legs off and kept his composure over the phone, silently snarling at his idiot roommate for the drop kick.

"Okay, today is too weird." Sam climbed up off the floor and trudged back to his room, "I'm gonna get ready for school. It's Friday, I can handle one more day."

"Or take a long weekend." Jet called after him.

"Monday's an in-service, I don't need four days." Sam yelled back, stubborn 'til the end.

By the time he was dressed and out the door Dean got off the phone, "Should be cool now," he smiled, proud of himself for doing something adult.

"Good job, man." Jet lifted a fist and Dean bumped it without hesitation.

"Thanks, bro."

Monday

"Gonna say goodbye to your sugar daddy?"

"Fuck off, bro. I'm seeing a lawyer about his will, maybe be a little sensitive, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah… Seriously," Dean laughed, a wide grin spread over his lips as he watched his best friend rummage for an appropriate shirt. "Why are you even going? He was an old perv, what could he possibly leave you?"

"I don't know," Jet answered without looking Dean's way, his tone was pissy at best. "And he wasn't that bad." It was the classic 'don't speak ill of the dead' attitude Jet had that surprised Dean the most, he was determined to coax it out of his buddy.

"Dude," Dean suppressed another laugh as he leaned around into Jet's view, "your uniform was low-cut jeans and no shirt."

Jet raised an eyebrow and placed a hand over Dean's face, shoving him aside, "I wasn't wearing low-cut jeans, and it was hard labour during summers; not having to wear a shirt was a godsend. You're just jealous I made more money than you every summer."

"Whatever," Dean dropped onto Jet's bed with a worrying creak, he crossed his arms behind his head and watched Jet toss garments aside. It wasn't weird to see him fret over an outfit, but to do it for a lawyer meeting? "Still though, I thought you hated the guy? What's with all this effort?"

Jet glanced his way with a smirk, "I do, but I gotta get in character for whatever the old coot left me. I don't have the best track record, if I look any more like a street rat they'd probably kick me out the door." He threw on another shirt as he talked and frowned at a hole under his arm, "Whatever I get I'd like to get it without weird questions or assumptions that I killed the bastard."

Dean snorted out a laugh, "You're terrible,"

"Would you love me any other way?"

"Probably not."

The best shirt Jet owned was solid black, no fancy designs or logos, but most importantly; it wasn't torn up or worn through. "I think I'm good," Jet muttered as he checked himself in the mirror.

"I think you're a prima donna."

"Looking good and feeling good are important with this kind of shit, man." Jet ran a hand through his hair, still looking at his reflection as he changed angles, what he was looking for Dean still didn't know.

"Like you've ever done this before."

"I haven't, but those two things are generally the first step before doing anything. Alright, let's do this." Jet clapped his hands and walked out of his room with Dean right on his heels. They climbed the stairs from the basement and just as they shoved their shoes on a crash sounded from the kitchen.

"Sammy?" Dean called; his head leaned to the side as if it'd help him see through plaster. "You okay?"

"I'm good," Sam replied loudly, "Just, uh… watch your step if you come in here."

"Klutz," Jet snickered, "Better not be dropping my mugs, pal."

"Nope, just mine." Sam said tiredly.

"Well we're off to read MacLeod's will, don't burn the house down!" Dean grinned as he heard Sam scoff at them.

"Have fun," Sam popped into the doorway, his messy hair a good indication of how recently he'd woken up. "Don't get blamed for a murder."

"No promises!" Jet shouted, he was already out the door.

Dean gave his brother a thumb's up before following Jet out to the car. He paused by the driver side door and looked up at their house; three single guys living in a one-story building and none of them could be bothered to give it a new paint-job. Forget about fixing the shingling on the roof or getting new windows, just paint on the walls would help it look a thousand times better. 'Maybe I should do it this weekend…' Dean's thought process was interrupted by a loud banging inside the car.

"Dude!" he heard Jet's muffled voice shouting at him.

"Yeah, yeah," he hopped in and sighed, fingers drumming the steering wheel as he stared forward, "just looking at the house."

Jet pat his shoulder supportively, "Lemme give you some advice; either do it or shut the hell up about it."

"I'm giving you a ride, be a nice asshole for once!" Dean smacked Jet's hand off playfully and started the car, "At least I can do something about it, what're you gonna do now that you don't have a summer job? College doesn't pay for itself, bro."

Jet's mouth pulled tight and he sat back in his seat, "I know," he ran his hand through his hair again, "I'm just kinda hoping he left me some money. His house was pretty small and he didn't have a lot of stuff, but he's old, old people always squirrel their money away… right?"

Dean shrugged, "Dunno, most old folks complain about how bad their retirement funds are as far as I know."

Jet dropped his face into his hands and groaned, "Fuck…"

"You might want to look into getting a loan,"

"Ffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…" Jet droned on, Dean could tell he didn't really want to think about it.

"You want me to come in with you?" Dean asked as they pulled up to the lawyer's office, like Jet was a kid in a strange place. It was kinda true, though.

"Actually," Jet looked at him, "yeah, I do."

Dean nodded and climbed out of the car, the two of them walked inside at the same pace. They'd known each other so long that falling in step with the other was second nature. Inside it was a decently sized building, nothing amazing but still impressive. A modest little office space. When they approached the receptionist Dean took note of how Jet's expression softened as the lady looked up.

"Hi, I'm here to see Mr. Fuller?"

"Name, please?" The brunette asked simply, a gentle tone of voice to match a beautiful face. Dean's gaze lingered on her wedding ring as a reminder not to make a move on her.

"Jethro Tull,"

"Ah, there you are. One moment please, I'll inform him."

Jet and Dean stood back and kicked at the polished floor, glancing around the room like it might be worth inspecting. "Kinda expected a lawyer's office to be nicer…" Dean muttered, the lint in his pockets more entertaining to him than his surroundings.

"Same. I mean it's still pretty nice, but I expected something…"

"Extravagant?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Tull?" The receptionist called, "Mr. Fuller will see you now, just through the doors on the left." She pointed them out as she spoke.

"Awesome, thanks a lot sweetheart." Jet strolled to the door, Dean smiled at her but kept to Jet's side.

"Not gonna act like you're sad?"

"I was just the guy that did his house work during summer; gotta be sad but not too sad. It's a delicate balance, dude. If you go too far you just look fake."

"Somehow I'm glad I'm not that master of lying to people," Dean mused as they walked into the office. Mr. Fuller was sitting with a few documents on his desk and a smile on his face.

"Good morning gentlemen, thank you for coming."

"It's the least I could do," Jet shook the man's hand first, a nearly genuine smile on his face. If Dean hadn't known Jet better he would've believed it. While Jet chatted with the lawyer Dean couldn't help but wonder why the act was even necessary. Jet was called because something was left for him from an old man, why couldn't Jet just be himself? Of course, being himself would mean voicing the fact he hated his boss, so minus that part and it would've been fine. Or at least that's how Dean saw it. Jet was a chronic liar though; it probably made more sense to him to act like someone who actually cared.

"Now," Mr. Fuller's tone change caught Dean's attention again, "down to business; Mr. MacLeod didn't have many people in his will. In fact," he paused and looked over the hand-written will another time, "you're the only one on it, Mr. Tull."

Dean glanced at his friend who didn't flinch other than a slight widening in his eyes. That was a real reaction, Dean could tell the difference.

"I knew he didn't have a lot of friends, no one ever stopped by while I was working for him." Jet scratched instinctively at the back of his head, another gesture Dean knew to be genuine. Jet was thrown of his game, he normally didn't give up a tell. "I mean I have no idea what his money situation was. Did he even have anything to give away? And what about his family?"

"He specifically stated that any family he had left was not allowed any of his assets. Mr. MacLeod has left you everything he owned, which includes his town house as well as his estate out of town. He had just over ten million dollars in-"

Dean's mind shut down as it repeated what it'd just heard. He couldn't comprehend what was happening as Fuller listed off all the items written into MacLeod's will. It was a long list and after the first twenty minutes Dean wasn't even sure what it all was anymore. What he did get out of it though was that his childhood friend was suddenly a millionaire. Just because he worked his ass off to look sexy and visit a perverted old man who happened to really like young, dark skinned shirtless boys.

It was a blur and before Dean knew he was sitting in the Impala with Jet who had signed documents and copies of other legal shit Dean knew nothing about. "What the fuck." He stated as its own sentence, like that would sum up everything he felt and he knew that Jet would understand. Which he did but it was more so shared in a look than words.

Dean couldn't believe it, Jet was rich. He could afford college; he could afford to not go to college if he didn't want to. He could do anything he ever wanted. It was amazing and scary at the same time. Dean couldn't imagine the house with just him and Sam in it, because he knew there was no way Jet would stay in a rundown piece of shit like that when he had millions burning holes in his pockets. No late night conversations about dumb shit, or someone to drink with when neither could afford to go to a bar, or watching stupid shows on the weekend.

"Oh my god," Jet breathed audibly as laughter bubbled up in his chest, breaking the silence entirely. "Dean,"

"Yeah?" Dean looked at him, at bright brown eyes that he'd never seen so lively with joy.

"We're fucking rich!"

Those words brought the same astonished smile to Dean's face, "Yeah," he laughed as what he could only describe as relief fell over him, "I guess we are."

"I didn't know he had an estate! Who even uses a town house!? What the fuck!" Jet's words got lost in his laughter, like he'd just lost his mind and had no idea what else to do. Dean could relate.

"I couldn't tell you, man." He felt his own chest contract with stifled laughs, almost as if he was afraid of believing it.

"You wanna check it out?" Jet asked excitedly.

"Should we get Sam?" Dean's first thought in most harmless 'let's go here' scenarios.

"Obviously!" Jet put his seatbelt on and pointed toward the road, "Let's get Sam, check out this fucking estate and celebrate!"

"Hell yeah," Dean threw 'er into gear and tore off the lot.