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The music playing in the bar is pretty okay, all things considered. Sam watches the bartender go and pour down their drinks - top shelf bourbon, a drink deserved for such a hectic hunt that was their last one. Dean is talking to the bartender, about their lives as agents and stuff, but Sam's not listening too carefully. He's just too tired to function.

"... And man, do I even begin with the ladies," Dean says, almost dazed - Sam supposes he's just as tired as Sam is, but is just better at not showing. The bartender smiles, gets them their drink and goes off to another customer, a frat boy who apparently brought, like, all of his friends. Sam doesn't have much time to think over it, though, because Dean starts talking to him.

"Well, damn am I glad that the job is over," he says, and Sam nods in agreement. Dean too, he supposes, look terrible: His left eye is still greenish from that last move, and he still has that busted lip. Sam is sure he's not looking all handsome himself, either, but there's something about Dean that makes him look worse than he should. Or that is just Sam. After all, Dean is his big brother. 

"Bro, you should have seen his face, it was hilarious!" The guy howls amusedly on their left. He's from the frat group, judging by his clothing. "I mean, I guess I'm flattered and all, but what on earth would I do with a fag with a crush on me?" The guys laugh. Oh, Sam thinks. They're one of those guys.

"It's good that you roughened him up, though," Another one says, especially into the conversation they're having. "That fairy needed to know where he should put his pretty ass around -"

"Hey, yeah. Excuse me, but could you please stop? I'm sure your comments are not necessary," A voice strangely familiar says, so Sam turns around, and to his horror, here is his brother, trying to talk to the douches. 

"Who is this clown?" The aggressive looking one says, and all Sam's thinking is 'Oh God, here it goes.'

"Yeah, pal, no offence, I mean, I would beat you to death and all, but I'm hella tired, so could you shut it? They're people with feelings, too, you know?" The guys laugh, and Sam is seriously afraid of his brother snapping now, and come to think of it, why is he arguing about homophobia, anyway. Okay, Dean is tolerant - a trait Sam loves about him - but how can he not see that this conversation with a bunch of frat boys will never work out?

Dean does his mocking laugh very tiredly, and then slips his hand into his pocket, gets something out and shows it to the guys. They immediately stop laughing. 

It's the badge.

"So, yeah, it was great talking to you too, but if you could just stop or like, die, that would be seriously great to both me and my colleague here. Like, really, you guys are the worst. You do know what you're talking about is a violation of multiple laws, right?" The guys are very grim now, and Sam is confused yet amused. "Okay, so, nice chat, do that again and you'll be arrested. Good night." Dean waves and gets back to Sam and his drink. He sits down exhaustedly, and takes a gulp. 

"Dude, what was that?" Sam blurts out, confused as hell. Dean just sighs and puts his drink down.

"Sam, can we... not, today? I just really, really need to chill out and just... Later, okay?" 

Sam nods understandingly, he's beat to hell as well, and he knows that Dean will probably never talk about this, but it's okay. Sam will find out eventually, anyway.

The bartender comes back to them and thanks Dean for shutting the douchebags up. Dean, as an answer, says "You're very welcome," and winks. Sam blinks.

Huh.

He's really tired.