Disclaimer: Please see chapter one.

Notes: This was written for SilverWinchester over at the Winchester Journals who wanted to see the guys in a bowling alley. Sorry for the lack of happy shiny, but Dean thinks it's too girly... Thank you to all who're reading and following this series. Also many, many thanks to those who've left prompts for me. Please keep it up. And thanks again to the reviewers, Love you all o)

Word count: 397

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Bowling for Brothers

A loud thud filled the air around the tiny table Sam Winchester sat at, snapping his attention from the shoes he was tying to the pitcher of beer and two empty cups being deposited onto the table by his cockily smiling older brother.

"I still can't believe they had boats in your size," he said pouring the beer into a cup before swiveling his chair out to sit. "So, this is what you and your Stanford buddies did for fun on a Friday night, huh?" He kicked his boots off and readied the rented bowling shoes to be worn.

"Guess you could say that, Jess and I would come every so often," Sam said- a half hearted smile gracing his lips- leaning toward the electronic score card and programming in their names.

Taking a long sip from his froth covered cup of beer, Dean analyzed his little brother's every move. All of Sam's body language belayed the air of calm, contentment he was doing his damnedest to convey. Dean was more than sure no one else would know how to read the laugh that wasn't reaching Sam's eyes when he smiled, or how the corners of his mouth would just barely lift the rest of his lips up into a smile. But he knew all of Sam's tells; hazard from being both big brother and living in such close quarters. Someone had to learn to read the kid. And their father wasn't around enough or not teaching them long enough to really learn. But then again their dad had the weird parental telepathy thing going for him. All Dean had was the between the lines body language Sam gave off.

"All right," he sat the cup back on the table, "whatever."

Sam rolled his eyes before heading to a high table doubling as a ball holder in search of a bowling ball.

"Winner buys the next round," Dean informed his younger sibling upon his return with a ball in each hand. "And cheese fries." He couldn't have stopped the grin making its way across his face if he'd wanted to. And for the first time since setting foot into the moderately lit bowling alley Sam's eyes and body language held more than the slight sadness he'd been trying to hide.

"You're on," challenge edged his voice and he headed for the top of their lane.

FIN