Jacob mirrored Sam’s smirk, though he tried to make sure Dean didn’t spot it. He took his leave of their table and felt less like he was looming over Sam and Oscar so much. Even up on the table, they could easily fall into someone’s shadow.

He wandered closer to the entertainment area where his counterpart stood. The kid on the arcade machine was intent on it, and Jacob noticed belatedly that someone else was on the mini-version of the arcade console, too. The systems were put together so well that Jacob couldn’t even tell who was playing who.

Getting closer, he realized there were two small figures at one of the tiny pool tables. The other Jacob was absently watching both games, hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Hey,” Jacob greeted, unsure. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk to himself face to face, but wasn’t actually sure what he’d say.

The older Jacob grinned. “Hey, dude, good to see another me around. But who gave you the shiner?”

The newcomer Jacob touched faintly at the bruised skin around his eye. “I uh. The Dean I know actually decked me pretty soon after meeting him. Didn’t … make a good impression on him.”

“Score one for the Deans!” Dean called up to the Jacobs as he bridged his fingers on the pool table, pulling back and striking at the cue ball. The tiny clinking of pool balls could be heard from down on the table as he took the first shot, scoring two balls in the pocket holes. “Awesome!” he declared, prowling around the side of the table to size up his next shot.

Sam was standing to the side, absently rubbing the tip of pool stick. Having shrunk at ten, he only remembered a few vague lessons from Dean on the game, all done furtively at the bar while their dad was busy. Dean had declared it time for some overdue lessons the second he discovered there was equipment tailored to their size, including pool sticks aplenty to choose from. He’d tested the heft and weight of a few, finding one that felt perfect to him and had Sam test out some.

Dean lined up his next shot, and sunk it in the side pocket. “See that, Sammy? Just gotta learn from the master,” he said, just this side of preening as he took another shot. This one bounced off, and he surrendered the table to Sam.

“So, Dean got the best of you?” Dean called up to the new Jacob by their table, smirking. “Godzilla over here is regretting the first time he grabbed me, let me tell you.”

The taller Jacob rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it. Instead, one hand emerged from his pocket and he held it out to show off two healing scars. One adorned his fingertip, and the other had been a nasty gash closer down on his arm. “They definitely make an impression, these Winchesters.”

Younger Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. He held up his thumb, displaying the bandaging wrapped tightly around it. His ‘impression’ from his own Sam was much more recent. “Sam really caught me off guard with his knife,” he agreed mulishly. He knew he’d earned it.

“Looks like your Dean had something to say, too,” older Jacob said with a grin. “Don’t worry. If he’s anything like this guy,” he pointed a thumb down at the tiny, smug Dean on the table, “he’ll probably come around eventually.”

Young Jacob nodded, glancing between the three of them. “So … I’m guessing you found them together?” he asked his older self. “I just found Sam, we had to go find Dean.”

Sam focused on his shot, trying to ignore the banter around him. His pool stick hit the cue ball, and the white ball jumped.

“Scratch!” Dean said sternly. He picked up a tiny blue square from the edge of the table and tossed it at Sam. To either Jacob, it would look the size of a grain of rice, but for the brothers it would serve its purpose. “Don’t rub the chalk off the tip,” he chided as Sam begrudgingly chalked his pool stick. “Try again.”