The little Dean bristled when he saw Dean looking at his Sam. “Don’t even think about grabbing Sam like that!” he commanded bossily, making his taller counterpart smirk in amusement.
“Oh?” Dean drawled lazily, claiming the seat directly behind the tiny bar set up for them. “And I’m guessin’ you’ll be the one stopping me, shortstop?” He winked at the new Sam in the room, letting him know it was all just a joke, and Sam nodded back, relaxing a little as he walked closer to the pair of Deans.
“Yes, I will,” Dean snipped back, pointedly taking his stool at the miniature bar just in time for a tiny glass of whiskey, complete with ice and a nearly-microscopic napkin, appear in front of him, courtesy of the bartender. It was quickly followed by an equally small slice of apple pie and fork made for it, and a mug of beer, looking the size of a quart next to Sam. “I trained up Jacob, didn’t I?”
Jacob snickered quietly at that. He didn’t even have an argument for it. ‘Trained’ had become a word that suited him pretty well, when it came to the tiny brothers that had perched on his shoulders mere moments ago. He’d learned to listen especially carefully to their quiet voices, always ready to accommodate them if they needed it.
He received a beer of his own, along with a silent smirk from the bartender, and almost went off his train of thought for a moment. He couldn’t place who the guy was like he had with Dean.
“If this Dean is anything like you are, I don’t know how much luck you’ll have training him,” he commented with a shrug. Jacob didn’t have to grow up with the little guy to know how headstrong he could be.
“Besides. He probably already knows how to fix a car, I just had to take the class to fix up the Impala.”
Dean arched his back pridefully. “I’ve rebuilt that car from the ground up before,” he bragged shamelessly, wiggling his fingers at his smaller self. “With my bare hands.”
Little Dean scoffed, and tossed back his whiskey, eyebrows going up when he tasted it. Unlike the whiskey at Bobby’s, which was likely home-brewed or from a box, this was top shelf stuff. It went down smooth as ice, and didn’t burn his throat.
“Another!” he declared, slamming the glass down on the bar and looking hopefully at the bartender.
“Don’t go reliving the other night,” Sam hissed.
Brothers Apart 