Dean replaced the cue ball on the table, and Sam attempted the shot again, this time hitting the ball off one of the solids and sinking it in the pocket. He grinned.

“We found Godzilla,” Dean corrected the younger Jacob, looking away from Sam’s lesson. “Or at least, his pie.”

The so-called ‘Godzilla’ smirked again and shrugged. “Looks like us Jacobs have trouble with first impressions,” he pointed out. “And yet Dean here still gave me a job as their driver.”

Younger Jacob’s eyebrows went up. “You got to drive the Impala?” It was obvious to anyone who saw Dean near that black-and-chrome behemoth that it was important to him. The care that went into that car was meticulous.

“Jacob helped rebuild the Impala,” Dean corrected again as Sam took another shot. “Since Dad didn’t have the heart to drive her anymore.”

Sam sunk a second ball, straightening proudly. Now he was closing the gap between him and Dean. There was a chance he could turn this lesson around on his older brother. He lined up a third shot while Dean was distracted lecturing two Jacobs.

“And now he’s part of the team,” Dean finished, “since we needed a driver. Hey–!”

Dean finally spotted Sam as he sank a third ball, huge grin on his face. “You were saying about lessons?”

The older Jacob smirked. Sam always had that way of keeping Dean in check, especially since his size made him extra hotheaded. Inwardly, he was proud all over again that he’d gotten enough trust to be invited along on hunts with the small Winchesters. His younger self would probably get his own Dean’s trust, eventually.

For now, he was welcome to hang out with them. Older Jacob leaned down slightly to count out what remained on the pool table with Sam slowly turning the tide in his favor. “Got some catching up to do, Dean,” he quipped, knowing it would just rile him up even more.

Younger Jacob cracked a grin of his own. He reached down to the stand where the unused pool sticks waited. It took some work, but he managed to pinch one in his fingers without knocking the others over.

“I got next game,” he jested, brandishing the little thing proudly.

Dean gave Jacob a flat look back, but Sam chimed in, “You bet!” as he sunk his fourth in a row.

“Since when are you a sniper?” Dean bitched as he sized up the table, and Sam missed his fifth hit. “You didn’t even know what chalk was a few minutes ago!”

Sam shrugged. “Beginners luck?”

And he grinned.

“Or just a good hustle,” the older Jacob muttered, his own grin widening. He hadn’t had much chance to get to know this Sam yet. He did know, however, that Sam knew all the precise buttons to push to needle his brother. Growing up together with almost no one else around would do that.

“Good thing you didn’t put anything on the line for this game,” younger Jacob added in.

“Maybe next time,” Sam said, sauntering to the side.

Dean took a few more shots, glowering when he scratched on the second, and Sam took his place. The game was quickly over between the brothers as Sam took out each of his balls one after the other, and the last was a double, and then the eight ball in the corner pocket.

“Rack ‘em, loser,” Sam said jauntily.