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shark hunt

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"Got room for one more?" Dean asks, pulling up a chair and sprawling on it.

"Of course," Ezra drawls. "Gentlemen, and lovely lady, do you mind if I deal in our late-comin' friend?"

To a chorus of negatives, Ezra grins, gold tooth glinting. "What do you have for a first wager?"

Dean's own smirk is outright dangerous. "Nothin' I can't stand to lose."

Meanwhile, Sam has settled down next to a man trying to blend into the wall, hiding at least three knives and guns on his body, and asks, "Your friend do this often?"

Blue eyes that see everything and miss nothing give him a once over. "Yours?" he asks in turn.

Sam nods and sighs.

Now, the look is commiserating. "Bet you got some fine stories about games gone wrong."

Smiling, Sam says, "That I do."


After the game, which Dean wins, he and Ezra meander to the bar and Dean buys them both a round. Dean quickly takes in Sam's buddy and smirks at Ezra. "Finally found a partner?" he asks, leaning on a stool.

"I see your brother finally found his calling on the road," Ezra returns.

"I guess that means we can't get outta here and find somewhere to do somethin' fun," Dean says.

"That would be correct, Mr. Winchester," Ezra tells him, raising his glass. "Unless you want Vin to fill you full of lead."

Dean laughs. "Good for you, Ez."

Ezra smiles, not his sharking grin or his time for you to die smirk. "The years since we parted have been kind to me, Dean. Vin is…" He shrugs. "You understand."

Nodding, Dean gently taps their glasses together. "That I do."