Title: Brother Lover
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Cas (JUST KIDDING. Dean/Cas.)
Summary: "However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke 'I saw her first'."
Length: 4k
Warnings: Celine.
Notes: So, after 5x13, I was pretty delighted when Cas called Sam his friend. ...This happened.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
merelyn is an enabler. She's also the reason a sequel can *already* be expected. rageprufrock is my favorite, because she beta'd this and also because she didn't stab me.
ETA: PODFIC HERE, by the amazingdefinestrange.
Dean and Sam have set up a number of rules to maintain order and a lack of killing each other over the years. Most of them are pretty straight forward-
-he who smelt it did not dealt it- own your farts, and that means you, Sam
-if you're going to have sex, don't do it in the car (although Dean considers that one more a guideline than anything else)
-finish the job
-do not get between Dean and his pie.
However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke ‘I saw her first’. Generally speaking, Dean's tastes and Sam's tastes in women- and most other things- are more than different enough to not create a need for a rule, but after the waitress in Tuscaloosa, well, they'd looked at each other in the car the next morning, and knew they needed to set some groundwork up- in case it ever happened again.
Which- Cas is not a girl.
But Dean still feels like he's watching Sam pick up someone he totally saw first.
"Have you read Livarati's works? He mostly specialized in Near Eastern spirits, but he did some really cool stuff with traditional Mediterranean water creatures," Sam says, legs crossed Indian style under him. Cas is delicately perched on a corner of the bed, as if he expects it to betray him, or like it's unable to handle the weight of his angelic awesomeness or something. Dean sullenly cleans a knife while thinking spitefully that judging by Sam's expression it should be piles of Tiger Beat between him and Cas, not ancient texts on demons. Cas tilts his head thoughtfully, as if he's reconsidering something, as if Sam is unexpected and curious, and Dean is really trying not to get proprietary, but damn it, that's his look.
"I found his works to be insightful, indeed. The man himself..." Cas says, trailing off, shaking his head slightly. "Rarely have I met someone so dedicated to the protection and preservation of human life." Sam just nods seriously, but Cas gives him that trademark significant look, saying, "But I have met people who rival even his dedication, recently." and Sam blinks and turns pink around the edges and what the fuck is going on here?
"Thanks, Cas," Sam mutters, straightening the corners on a pile of books, and Dean is really trying to swallow his petty bitterness here, but his mouth is dry and metallic tasting and he totally hates everything. He finds himself standing abruptly, because if he doesn't walk out, he's going to be an asshole, and really, he’s trying to cut back.
"I'm getting a drink." Dean mutters and doesn't offer to get either of them anything, although Cas has discovered he actually likes ginger ale and Sam does not turn down a Coke, ever, because if he asks, he's going ask like a dick. He snags the motel room key off the bedside table and blows out the door before he says something he regrets. But it doesn't stop him from catching the little look between Sam and Cas, meaning somewhere between "what the fuck" and "what's up his ass" (or, in Cas's case, sheer bewildered confusion).
Dean walks fast, unexpectedly furious and even more furious with himself, because this is weird, sullen, teenaged acting out he hasn't indulged in since he was about 15. He nearly trips on a crack in the concrete, which only pisses him off further, until he gets to the flickering vending machine, which is- predictably- out of Dr. Pepper.
He hears the fluttering, ripping noise a half a second before the "Dean," low and concerned, using the voice Cas normally uses for portents and omens. Dean sighs, wondering if Sam taught Cas 'rock, paper, scissors' just so they could choose fairly who would have to come out and talk to Dean. He bangs his head against the scratched plastic proclaiming "SODA" in a graphic from the early 80s. He punches the button for a Sprite.
"Yeah, Cas," Dean says, feeding another series of nickels in one by one, hoarding the quarters for laundry.
Cas remains silent until Dean finally turns around, accepting the ginger ale Dean drops in his pocket with a blink. With Cas here, staring at him solemnly, like Dean's funk is something he'd like to smite, righteously, but doesn't know how, Dean cannot help but smile and feed another 20 nickels into the vending machine, dropping the resulting Coke into Cas's other pocket, settling the lopsided trenchcoat.
"I'm fine," Dean says, bumping shoulders casually with Cas as he heads back toward the room, only to stop a few steps later, looking back over his shoulder and to find Cas standing there staring at him baffled, but something like fond. "You coming?" Dean asks, gruff with pleasure. Cas nods, and says, "Yes," but from where Dean's standing, it sounds like 'always' and, his good humor repaired, Dean can almost completely ignore Sam's pleased expression when Cas hands him the Coke.
All this, though, goes out the fucking window when the inside jokes start.
Which, he says 'inside jokes,' but it's more like Sam will make some nerdy reference to whatever they're chasing this week, and Cas will look at him.
And really, Dean knows this sounds like serious crazy-eyed, John Hinckley, drive across the country in diapers shit, but he can't seem to stop himself. Which, when they first met, Dean was constantly sort of worried Cas was going to smite Sam on principle or something, so, if anything, he should be pleased that Cas and Sam are getting along so well. And he's further horrified, because he hasn't been this psychotically jealous since about the sixth grade, when Charlie Billups had started going steady with Sarah Nolan, who may or may not still be the girl of Dean’s dreams, and this line of thought should really make Dean feel more uncomfortable. Which is doubly ridiculous, because really, Cas isn't a girl, and it's not like Dean's being dumped.
It just feels that way.
And it doesn't help when Sam does shit like order Cas lemonades in tired little Southern diners or when Cas brings Sam books he thinks he might like that Dean strongly suspects have been stolen from libraries that don't even exist anymore. They're in the middle of a heat wave in Meridian, and Sam has a huge smile on his face as he's explaining to Cas that he should really take off his coats or people are going to think he's crazy, when it finally hits him.
They're courting each other.
Dean tries not to wear his bitterness on his sleeve the next morning as Sam lectures him about taking better care of himself as he's taking communion at the altar of the porcelain god after going out last night and trying to drink or fuck anything that looked at him twice. He thinks he might have found an easy listening station and cried as he listened to Celine Dion before passing out in the car, but he's hoping that was a nightmare, because he can only explain so much with tequila.
He has yet another epiphany, halfway between Meridian and Jackson, as he tries to put as much distance between him and the night before as possible, stealing glances at Sam as he contentedly reads his totally "borrowed" book. There's being irritated because your little brother is poaching on lands clearly staked out as your homestead, and then there's Sam being in love with Cas. So Dean takes a deep breath, and like he usually does, does the best he can by Sammy.
"You know, uh, he likes maple candy," Dean says, keeping his eyes steadfastly on the road, but he can feel Sam staring at him, in addition to the small questioning noise he makes. "Cas, he, uh, likes maple candy."
Because it's true, and Dean has spent a night with Cas, after they'd (and by “ they'd”, he means “he had dragged Cas unwillingly”) raided a Candy Kitchen while ganking a ghost in Bethany Beach when Sam had been out communing with nature and getting sand everywhere, and they'd ruled out taffy and most types of chocolate, but Cas had loved the maple candy, breaking off chunks and getting his fingers sticky. Dean had ordered pizza and Cas had picked off the toppings before eating, and despite the fact that Dean thinks it's his constitutional responsibility to get as many meat toppings on his pizza as possible, since then he always makes sure there's at least half a pizza that's plain cheese, just in case Cas feels like trying pizza again that night.
Sam just sort of stares at Dean like he thinks Dean has lost his mind, which, really, Dean can't argue with that assessment.
"Just you know. Heads up. FYI," Dean tries, while contemplating driving them off the road and into an embankment to end his misery. He doesn't really know why he's bothering, considering that Sam has gotten more women to commit to him that Dean can shake a stick at, and Dean sometimes has trouble convincing waitresses to sleep with him one time. But Cas is different, and if Sam is what he wants, if Sam wants Cas- then all Dean should- all he can do- is grease the wheels. Sam still looks confused- and yeah, Dean is right there with him- but he nods.
"Okay," Sam finally says, eventually going back to his book. Dean figures he'll do better next time.
Cas shows up for dinner at a nondescript diner, and Dean figures this is his chance- but it's amazingly difficult to get them to sit together on the opposite side of the booth from Dean. They're stubborn bastards- Dean has to give them that- and he hopes they don't feel like they have to, whatever, hide it, or something, because of or for Dean. Although, they're in the deep South, it's probably not a bad idea. When he finally succeeds in getting them to sit to one another, they're both staring at him, absolutely confused, and Dean thinks it's a good thing they're like, MFEO, because seriously, no one can be that dense. Dean slaps a smile on his face and ignores the inner voice that tells him eating his pain is a one-way street to a heart attack in Fattersonsville as he orders his cheeseburger and fries with a side of onion rings, too, in addition to the milkshake.
Sam just sort of shrugs, as if to say 'what can you do?', and immediately asks Cas about the Enochian sigils written on their ribs, and Dean can't help but slurp at his milkshake in a hell of his own making. It's like having David Attenborough in his head. 'Observe the rare Dorkus Gayus Samus Winchesterus and the even more rare Dorkus Angelus Castielus in their mating ritual. If one looks carefully, you may detect the Missed Your Fucking Boat Deanus Winchesterus.' (Dean doesn't really know Latin, okay, which is probably reason number 19,203,492 that Sam and Cas are meant to be and Dean's only friend is a cheeseburger.) He feels like he's wearing a sign that says third wheel, and the whole diner is staring at him, wondering why he's sitting in on Sam and Cas's homo date. Dean sighs and pushes his fries toward Cas, who only likes them when they're cold and terrible and gummy, because Cas is a freak, but Dean likes him anyway and- oh god.
Dean likes Cas.
He's not sure what he says, but finds himself safely and quietly freaking out in a locked bathroom stall, so it has to have at least gotten him that far. He's horrified to realize this explains all of the terrible, neurotic, codependent behavior he's been indulging in- including the Celine. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees so he can bury his face in his hands, because this- this is terrible.
Dean doesn't know how long he sits there, pondering how totally beyond fucked he is, but it's long enough that a pair of vaguely dusty loafers appear in front of his stall door.
"Dean, are you alright?" Cas asks, and Dean would like nothing more than to enumerate the billions of ways he's totally not alright, but instead he just takes a deep, shaky breath and throws on the smile he wears when everything has gone to shit and there's nothing else to do.
"Yeah, Cas, must have eaten something bad for lunch, I'll be out in a bit," Dean says, rubbing at his face with his hands.
The loafers hesitate, but eventually head back out to Sam. Dean takes another deep breath, because he really just wants to find a bar and drink until he can't see straight, but two nights in a row is probably a bit much for Sam's credulity and Dean's liver, and if Dean doesn't want to think about why he feels fucked up and terrible, then he really doesn't want Sammy thinking about it either.
Dean thinks maybe tomorrow, they'll head north, because he really doesn't want to drive through Louisiana depressed and shitty and secretive- he actually likes Louisiana. And maybe tomorrow he'll claim to still have a stomachache or something, so he'll suggest Cas should sit up front with Sam, so he has some company to keep him awake, driving through Mississippi, because it's the most boring place on the planet, short of Montana. And then someday, Dean will walk in on them making out or something, and then he'll be Sam's best man at their wedding and then 'Uncle Dean' to their children adopted from Laos or something and Dean's teeth hurt he's gritting them so hard.
It is what it is, he reminds himself, and takes another deep breath, avoiding looking too closely in the mirror on the way out of the bathroom. He argues bad Chinese and brushes off Sam's vague face and Cas's concern and makes Sam drive in the morning.
By the time they get to Memphis, Sam is staring at him like he's gone past insane into psychotic and Cas has been frowning and staring at his hands, folded in his lap for near an hour. Sam just shakes his head and makes this frustrated noise as he gets out of the car, which Dean doesn't understand- he and Cas had a nice, dorky, conversation full of promise about Sanskrit most of the way here- there's no call to be discouraged.
Cas frowns as if to say something from the front seat but he makes no move to talk. Dean frowns.
"Something bothering you, Cas?" he asks, because the last hour has reeked of some sort of weird tension. Cas's shoulders hitch like he heaves a sigh, but he doesn't exhale.
"It was... different, sitting here with Sam today," he finally says, and Dean figures that's his way of saying 'thanks for hooking a brother up,' so Dean just slaps on a smile.
"Yeah, I'm glad you two had fun. You have a lot in common, you know, you're both smart, you're both great," Dean says, loosely waving a hand, trying to talk up Sam without sounding like an idiot. Cas tilts his head to one side.
"Sam is a good person," Cas agrees, and from anyone but Castiel, that would sound lacking, but instead it sounds like praise indeed. "I appreciate his insights into humanity." Dean affixes his smile a little more forcefully.
"Yeah, he's the Winchester good for a conversation," Dean tries, only to be met with a solemn frown from Castiel and an expression that looks like a storm on the horizon.
"Dean, the conversations I have had with you have defined my existence," Cas says severely and for a moment Dean can't breathe. His stomach flips briefly as Cas goes on to add, expression gentled somewhat, "Please remember that."
Dean tries to smother the feeling of warmth that blossoms somewhere between his ribs and spreads toward his toes, but he can't stop a real smile from flickering across his face.
"Yeah, ditto," he finally manages.
Cas looks like he wants to say more, but Sam reappears, jingling keys in his hand. Dean quickly heads out the driver's side door, and Cas blinks back in outside the car, looking kind of smitey around the eyes. Dean's heart lodges itself somewhere around his stomach when he notices the two sets of keys in Sam's hand and he doesn't know what he's going to say, when Sam leans in and hisses at Dean:
"Look, you've had PMS for four states and you're acting like someone pissed in your Wheaties. Cas is flipping out and you two are going to settle your damn issues, and I will see you both in the morning, acting like normal people. Or at least like your regular bugfuck-crazy selves."
Sam grabs his duffel out of the trunk and moves faster than he does on most hunts, flinging a key back behind him overhand. Dean instinctively catches it, and blankly stares at the tag that says '18' on it for a moment, before looking at Cas, who- blinks out.
A chorus of alarm bells and sirens are going off in his head as he slowly grabs his bag, locks the car, and trudges toward room 18. Sam knows. He knows, he knows, he knows, and Dean’s going to hell again for being the worst brother ever, and he's in the middle of trying to figure out how someone even begins a 'sorry I'm in love with him, too' speech, which Christ, how did he even get to this sorry-ass point- when he opens the door to see Castiel sitting on the bed.
"Oh," Dean manages, like he hasn't just dropped his bag and nearly flung his key across the room. Cas levels him with a stare.
"Dean," he replies. Dean smiles, weakly.
"So, weird, huh, I don't know what Sam was thinking-" Dean starts, but Cas cuts him off.
"I asked Sam to get two rooms." he says suddenly. Dean blinks, and opens his mouth, but Cas plows on, mercilessly. "I wanted to make sure I had not upset you, and I did not believe that you would speak to me freely if Sam were with us."
Dean sighs, because of course, Cas would assume that he'd done something wrong.
"What makes you think that?" Dean tries, because the longer he can deflect Cas, maybe he can think of a way to avoid the issue entirely. Castiel frowns deeply.
"We do not speak alone as often as we used to, you seem to not want to be near me. Sam has told me these are usually indicative of being upset with someone," Cas says, and Dean can tell he's trying for some kind of tact, but it still feels like a slap across the face.
"No, Cas, I'm not upset with you," Dean replies, quickly, because if he's certain about anything right now, he's not upset with Cas. Well, other than for the whole trapping him into trying to talk about feelings, which falls under the category of "everyone else in his life too", so. "I'm... sorry you thought that." he adds.
Cas is still frowning though, so he's definitely not out of the woods.
"If you have something weighing on your mind, you could always tell me," Cas says, looking sort of down and to the left which firmly suggests that Cas has been sort of... eavesdropping on his general state of being pissed and depressed, but at least had the courtesy to not flat out peek into his mind to find out what it is, and Dean is grateful for small favors.
"It's really sort of a... personal problem, Cas," Dean tries, feeling like a jerk, because, predictably, Cas makes that small, wounded face that he gets when they run into dick angels and he comes back from trips to find God. But it is a personal problem- it's not Cas or Sam's fault that he just can't suck it up and be happy for them.
"Dean, you're hurting," Cas just says, finally, looking frustrated and unhappy and Dean wants to drown himself in the shower, because he's just being such an unpardonable douche.
"Look, Cas, it's- I'm- I want you and Sam to be happy," Dean finally settles for that, because it's not a lie- it's just not the whole truth, either. Cas looks puzzled.
"Dean, Sam is upset because he believes you to be angry with him," Cas says. "Both Sam and I are only distressed because we believed we had done something to merit your censure." Dean shakes his head.
"No, no, I- it's great that you guys are together, you're perfect for each other, I'm just-" Dean starts, but breaks off as Cas's eyebrows nearly fly off his forehead in a very human gesture of surprise. "What?" Cas blinks at Dean.
"Do you mean to say," Cas tries, like he's wholly overwhelmed with confusion at humanity, like the time they tried to take him to see Avatar. "Dean, do you believe Sam and I to be romantically inclined toward each other?"
Dean sort of feels like he's been spun around very fast.
"Are you telling me you're not?" he asks incredulously, because he's pretty sure one of those books was poetry. Cas stares at Dean.
"I am not." Cas says vehemently, and wait-
"Do you mean, you're telling me you aren't in love with Sam, or you're telling me you aren't telling me you're not in love with Sam?” Dean asks, because wait, he's still confused. Cas frowns, like he's faced with insurmountable foes.
"Dean, I have never felt any emotion other than appreciation and friendship for your brother," he says solemnly, like he's testifying in court, but Dean's busy feeling a little light-headed, so he just sort of wavers for a moment.
"Oh, well, that's..." Dean trails off, still a little disbelieving. "Good." Cas shakes his head, slowly.
"I am... surprised you interpreted my interest in Sam in that fashion," Cas admits, and even the word 'interest' sort of makes Dean tense all over. "When in fact," Castiel continues, eyes luminously, inhumanly blue, "I endeavored to become his friend partly because of my interest in you."
Dean feels like he's falling on a roller coaster- weightless and dizzy.
"What?" he finally asks. Cas isn't smiling, but there is a hint of something rueful, amused and dear in the corner of his mouth and Dean can't help but feel a little bit hopeful, at that.
"I was told it was customary to forge a bond with the family members of one whose affections you seek," Cas says and Dean feels his mouth drop open slightly, and he's sure it's a super unattractive look but- what the fuck.
"Who- what?" Dean asks again with feeling. Cas looks faintly sheepish, and Dean can tell he won't like this bit, at all.
"I confess, Gabriel brought the matter to my attention," Cas says and Dean is torn between laughing and crying, because taking relationship advice from Gabriel- fucking Gabriel, is like- God, Dean can't even think of an appropriately disastrous parallel. "He directed me to a source of contemporary advice," Cas adds, pulling a magazine out of his inside coat pocket and- Jesus Christ.
Fucking Gabriel gave Cas a Cosmo.
Dean is about to have a serious breakdown of some kind when, finally, the meaning behind the whole thing hits him like a 2x4.
"Someone whose affections you seek," Dean repeats quietly. Cas tilts his head slightly to one side, as if Dean should know- as if it's common knowledge.
"I was taken aback that you would think I was pursuing Sam," Cas says calmly. "I would have thought that my love for you was obvious."
Dean takes a deep, wrecked, shuddering breath.
"Clearly, not so much," Dean establishes, although he's smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. He plucks the magazine out of Cas's unprotesting hands, snorting at 'Five ways to catch him- and keep him!' "In the future, you should probably just tell me, rather than relying on Cosmo."
Cas nods solemnly, like he's taking it under serious advisement.
"Dean, I am in love with you," Cas says and when Dean blinks, he adds, "You instructed me to tell you."
Dean laughs and pulls Cas up by his lapels and kisses him and kisses him because Cas loves him and isn't dating Sam and Cas read Cosmo to figure out how to tell him. Jesus. Cas responds eagerly, cupping Dean's face with his hands and brushing a thumb behind the shell of Dean's ear. Dean shivers and stares at Cas.
"Where did you learn that?" he demands.
Cas just looks toward the ground where Dean dropped the magazine, which- oh god. In hot pink font, size 72, it proclaims '10 places that will drive him wild!' Dean swallows. "Did you- did you read the whole magazine?" Cas smiles.
"I believe in thorough research," Cas replies, slipping a hand under the edge of Dean's t-shirt, and holy shit, he made a joke. About sex.
"I couldn't agree more," Dean manages thickly. Cas makes a pleased noise, leaning in to kiss Dean again.
"It seems as though I ended up with the studious Winchester brother after all," Cas murmurs against his mouth and smiles as Dean just laughs and laughs.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Cas (JUST KIDDING. Dean/Cas.)
Summary: "However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke 'I saw her first'."
Length: 4k
Warnings: Celine.
Notes: So, after 5x13, I was pretty delighted when Cas called Sam his friend. ...This happened.
merelyn is an enabler. She's also the reason a sequel can *already* be expected. rageprufrock is my favorite, because she beta'd this and also because she didn't stab me. ETA: PODFIC HERE, by the amazing
definestrange.Dean and Sam have set up a number of rules to maintain order and a lack of killing each other over the years. Most of them are pretty straight forward-
-he who smelt it did not dealt it- own your farts, and that means you, Sam
-if you're going to have sex, don't do it in the car (although Dean considers that one more a guideline than anything else)
-finish the job
-do not get between Dean and his pie.
However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke ‘I saw her first’. Generally speaking, Dean's tastes and Sam's tastes in women- and most other things- are more than different enough to not create a need for a rule, but after the waitress in Tuscaloosa, well, they'd looked at each other in the car the next morning, and knew they needed to set some groundwork up- in case it ever happened again.
Which- Cas is not a girl.
But Dean still feels like he's watching Sam pick up someone he totally saw first.
"Have you read Livarati's works? He mostly specialized in Near Eastern spirits, but he did some really cool stuff with traditional Mediterranean water creatures," Sam says, legs crossed Indian style under him. Cas is delicately perched on a corner of the bed, as if he expects it to betray him, or like it's unable to handle the weight of his angelic awesomeness or something. Dean sullenly cleans a knife while thinking spitefully that judging by Sam's expression it should be piles of Tiger Beat between him and Cas, not ancient texts on demons. Cas tilts his head thoughtfully, as if he's reconsidering something, as if Sam is unexpected and curious, and Dean is really trying not to get proprietary, but damn it, that's his look.
"I found his works to be insightful, indeed. The man himself..." Cas says, trailing off, shaking his head slightly. "Rarely have I met someone so dedicated to the protection and preservation of human life." Sam just nods seriously, but Cas gives him that trademark significant look, saying, "But I have met people who rival even his dedication, recently." and Sam blinks and turns pink around the edges and what the fuck is going on here?
"Thanks, Cas," Sam mutters, straightening the corners on a pile of books, and Dean is really trying to swallow his petty bitterness here, but his mouth is dry and metallic tasting and he totally hates everything. He finds himself standing abruptly, because if he doesn't walk out, he's going to be an asshole, and really, he’s trying to cut back.
"I'm getting a drink." Dean mutters and doesn't offer to get either of them anything, although Cas has discovered he actually likes ginger ale and Sam does not turn down a Coke, ever, because if he asks, he's going ask like a dick. He snags the motel room key off the bedside table and blows out the door before he says something he regrets. But it doesn't stop him from catching the little look between Sam and Cas, meaning somewhere between "what the fuck" and "what's up his ass" (or, in Cas's case, sheer bewildered confusion).
Dean walks fast, unexpectedly furious and even more furious with himself, because this is weird, sullen, teenaged acting out he hasn't indulged in since he was about 15. He nearly trips on a crack in the concrete, which only pisses him off further, until he gets to the flickering vending machine, which is- predictably- out of Dr. Pepper.
He hears the fluttering, ripping noise a half a second before the "Dean," low and concerned, using the voice Cas normally uses for portents and omens. Dean sighs, wondering if Sam taught Cas 'rock, paper, scissors' just so they could choose fairly who would have to come out and talk to Dean. He bangs his head against the scratched plastic proclaiming "SODA" in a graphic from the early 80s. He punches the button for a Sprite.
"Yeah, Cas," Dean says, feeding another series of nickels in one by one, hoarding the quarters for laundry.
Cas remains silent until Dean finally turns around, accepting the ginger ale Dean drops in his pocket with a blink. With Cas here, staring at him solemnly, like Dean's funk is something he'd like to smite, righteously, but doesn't know how, Dean cannot help but smile and feed another 20 nickels into the vending machine, dropping the resulting Coke into Cas's other pocket, settling the lopsided trenchcoat.
"I'm fine," Dean says, bumping shoulders casually with Cas as he heads back toward the room, only to stop a few steps later, looking back over his shoulder and to find Cas standing there staring at him baffled, but something like fond. "You coming?" Dean asks, gruff with pleasure. Cas nods, and says, "Yes," but from where Dean's standing, it sounds like 'always' and, his good humor repaired, Dean can almost completely ignore Sam's pleased expression when Cas hands him the Coke.
All this, though, goes out the fucking window when the inside jokes start.
Which, he says 'inside jokes,' but it's more like Sam will make some nerdy reference to whatever they're chasing this week, and Cas will look at him.
And really, Dean knows this sounds like serious crazy-eyed, John Hinckley, drive across the country in diapers shit, but he can't seem to stop himself. Which, when they first met, Dean was constantly sort of worried Cas was going to smite Sam on principle or something, so, if anything, he should be pleased that Cas and Sam are getting along so well. And he's further horrified, because he hasn't been this psychotically jealous since about the sixth grade, when Charlie Billups had started going steady with Sarah Nolan, who may or may not still be the girl of Dean’s dreams, and this line of thought should really make Dean feel more uncomfortable. Which is doubly ridiculous, because really, Cas isn't a girl, and it's not like Dean's being dumped.
It just feels that way.
And it doesn't help when Sam does shit like order Cas lemonades in tired little Southern diners or when Cas brings Sam books he thinks he might like that Dean strongly suspects have been stolen from libraries that don't even exist anymore. They're in the middle of a heat wave in Meridian, and Sam has a huge smile on his face as he's explaining to Cas that he should really take off his coats or people are going to think he's crazy, when it finally hits him.
They're courting each other.
Dean tries not to wear his bitterness on his sleeve the next morning as Sam lectures him about taking better care of himself as he's taking communion at the altar of the porcelain god after going out last night and trying to drink or fuck anything that looked at him twice. He thinks he might have found an easy listening station and cried as he listened to Celine Dion before passing out in the car, but he's hoping that was a nightmare, because he can only explain so much with tequila.
He has yet another epiphany, halfway between Meridian and Jackson, as he tries to put as much distance between him and the night before as possible, stealing glances at Sam as he contentedly reads his totally "borrowed" book. There's being irritated because your little brother is poaching on lands clearly staked out as your homestead, and then there's Sam being in love with Cas. So Dean takes a deep breath, and like he usually does, does the best he can by Sammy.
"You know, uh, he likes maple candy," Dean says, keeping his eyes steadfastly on the road, but he can feel Sam staring at him, in addition to the small questioning noise he makes. "Cas, he, uh, likes maple candy."
Because it's true, and Dean has spent a night with Cas, after they'd (and by “ they'd”, he means “he had dragged Cas unwillingly”) raided a Candy Kitchen while ganking a ghost in Bethany Beach when Sam had been out communing with nature and getting sand everywhere, and they'd ruled out taffy and most types of chocolate, but Cas had loved the maple candy, breaking off chunks and getting his fingers sticky. Dean had ordered pizza and Cas had picked off the toppings before eating, and despite the fact that Dean thinks it's his constitutional responsibility to get as many meat toppings on his pizza as possible, since then he always makes sure there's at least half a pizza that's plain cheese, just in case Cas feels like trying pizza again that night.
Sam just sort of stares at Dean like he thinks Dean has lost his mind, which, really, Dean can't argue with that assessment.
"Just you know. Heads up. FYI," Dean tries, while contemplating driving them off the road and into an embankment to end his misery. He doesn't really know why he's bothering, considering that Sam has gotten more women to commit to him that Dean can shake a stick at, and Dean sometimes has trouble convincing waitresses to sleep with him one time. But Cas is different, and if Sam is what he wants, if Sam wants Cas- then all Dean should- all he can do- is grease the wheels. Sam still looks confused- and yeah, Dean is right there with him- but he nods.
"Okay," Sam finally says, eventually going back to his book. Dean figures he'll do better next time.
Cas shows up for dinner at a nondescript diner, and Dean figures this is his chance- but it's amazingly difficult to get them to sit together on the opposite side of the booth from Dean. They're stubborn bastards- Dean has to give them that- and he hopes they don't feel like they have to, whatever, hide it, or something, because of or for Dean. Although, they're in the deep South, it's probably not a bad idea. When he finally succeeds in getting them to sit to one another, they're both staring at him, absolutely confused, and Dean thinks it's a good thing they're like, MFEO, because seriously, no one can be that dense. Dean slaps a smile on his face and ignores the inner voice that tells him eating his pain is a one-way street to a heart attack in Fattersonsville as he orders his cheeseburger and fries with a side of onion rings, too, in addition to the milkshake.
Sam just sort of shrugs, as if to say 'what can you do?', and immediately asks Cas about the Enochian sigils written on their ribs, and Dean can't help but slurp at his milkshake in a hell of his own making. It's like having David Attenborough in his head. 'Observe the rare Dorkus Gayus Samus Winchesterus and the even more rare Dorkus Angelus Castielus in their mating ritual. If one looks carefully, you may detect the Missed Your Fucking Boat Deanus Winchesterus.' (Dean doesn't really know Latin, okay, which is probably reason number 19,203,492 that Sam and Cas are meant to be and Dean's only friend is a cheeseburger.) He feels like he's wearing a sign that says third wheel, and the whole diner is staring at him, wondering why he's sitting in on Sam and Cas's homo date. Dean sighs and pushes his fries toward Cas, who only likes them when they're cold and terrible and gummy, because Cas is a freak, but Dean likes him anyway and- oh god.
Dean likes Cas.
He's not sure what he says, but finds himself safely and quietly freaking out in a locked bathroom stall, so it has to have at least gotten him that far. He's horrified to realize this explains all of the terrible, neurotic, codependent behavior he's been indulging in- including the Celine. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees so he can bury his face in his hands, because this- this is terrible.
Dean doesn't know how long he sits there, pondering how totally beyond fucked he is, but it's long enough that a pair of vaguely dusty loafers appear in front of his stall door.
"Dean, are you alright?" Cas asks, and Dean would like nothing more than to enumerate the billions of ways he's totally not alright, but instead he just takes a deep, shaky breath and throws on the smile he wears when everything has gone to shit and there's nothing else to do.
"Yeah, Cas, must have eaten something bad for lunch, I'll be out in a bit," Dean says, rubbing at his face with his hands.
The loafers hesitate, but eventually head back out to Sam. Dean takes another deep breath, because he really just wants to find a bar and drink until he can't see straight, but two nights in a row is probably a bit much for Sam's credulity and Dean's liver, and if Dean doesn't want to think about why he feels fucked up and terrible, then he really doesn't want Sammy thinking about it either.
Dean thinks maybe tomorrow, they'll head north, because he really doesn't want to drive through Louisiana depressed and shitty and secretive- he actually likes Louisiana. And maybe tomorrow he'll claim to still have a stomachache or something, so he'll suggest Cas should sit up front with Sam, so he has some company to keep him awake, driving through Mississippi, because it's the most boring place on the planet, short of Montana. And then someday, Dean will walk in on them making out or something, and then he'll be Sam's best man at their wedding and then 'Uncle Dean' to their children adopted from Laos or something and Dean's teeth hurt he's gritting them so hard.
It is what it is, he reminds himself, and takes another deep breath, avoiding looking too closely in the mirror on the way out of the bathroom. He argues bad Chinese and brushes off Sam's vague face and Cas's concern and makes Sam drive in the morning.
By the time they get to Memphis, Sam is staring at him like he's gone past insane into psychotic and Cas has been frowning and staring at his hands, folded in his lap for near an hour. Sam just shakes his head and makes this frustrated noise as he gets out of the car, which Dean doesn't understand- he and Cas had a nice, dorky, conversation full of promise about Sanskrit most of the way here- there's no call to be discouraged.
Cas frowns as if to say something from the front seat but he makes no move to talk. Dean frowns.
"Something bothering you, Cas?" he asks, because the last hour has reeked of some sort of weird tension. Cas's shoulders hitch like he heaves a sigh, but he doesn't exhale.
"It was... different, sitting here with Sam today," he finally says, and Dean figures that's his way of saying 'thanks for hooking a brother up,' so Dean just slaps on a smile.
"Yeah, I'm glad you two had fun. You have a lot in common, you know, you're both smart, you're both great," Dean says, loosely waving a hand, trying to talk up Sam without sounding like an idiot. Cas tilts his head to one side.
"Sam is a good person," Cas agrees, and from anyone but Castiel, that would sound lacking, but instead it sounds like praise indeed. "I appreciate his insights into humanity." Dean affixes his smile a little more forcefully.
"Yeah, he's the Winchester good for a conversation," Dean tries, only to be met with a solemn frown from Castiel and an expression that looks like a storm on the horizon.
"Dean, the conversations I have had with you have defined my existence," Cas says severely and for a moment Dean can't breathe. His stomach flips briefly as Cas goes on to add, expression gentled somewhat, "Please remember that."
Dean tries to smother the feeling of warmth that blossoms somewhere between his ribs and spreads toward his toes, but he can't stop a real smile from flickering across his face.
"Yeah, ditto," he finally manages.
Cas looks like he wants to say more, but Sam reappears, jingling keys in his hand. Dean quickly heads out the driver's side door, and Cas blinks back in outside the car, looking kind of smitey around the eyes. Dean's heart lodges itself somewhere around his stomach when he notices the two sets of keys in Sam's hand and he doesn't know what he's going to say, when Sam leans in and hisses at Dean:
"Look, you've had PMS for four states and you're acting like someone pissed in your Wheaties. Cas is flipping out and you two are going to settle your damn issues, and I will see you both in the morning, acting like normal people. Or at least like your regular bugfuck-crazy selves."
Sam grabs his duffel out of the trunk and moves faster than he does on most hunts, flinging a key back behind him overhand. Dean instinctively catches it, and blankly stares at the tag that says '18' on it for a moment, before looking at Cas, who- blinks out.
A chorus of alarm bells and sirens are going off in his head as he slowly grabs his bag, locks the car, and trudges toward room 18. Sam knows. He knows, he knows, he knows, and Dean’s going to hell again for being the worst brother ever, and he's in the middle of trying to figure out how someone even begins a 'sorry I'm in love with him, too' speech, which Christ, how did he even get to this sorry-ass point- when he opens the door to see Castiel sitting on the bed.
"Oh," Dean manages, like he hasn't just dropped his bag and nearly flung his key across the room. Cas levels him with a stare.
"Dean," he replies. Dean smiles, weakly.
"So, weird, huh, I don't know what Sam was thinking-" Dean starts, but Cas cuts him off.
"I asked Sam to get two rooms." he says suddenly. Dean blinks, and opens his mouth, but Cas plows on, mercilessly. "I wanted to make sure I had not upset you, and I did not believe that you would speak to me freely if Sam were with us."
Dean sighs, because of course, Cas would assume that he'd done something wrong.
"What makes you think that?" Dean tries, because the longer he can deflect Cas, maybe he can think of a way to avoid the issue entirely. Castiel frowns deeply.
"We do not speak alone as often as we used to, you seem to not want to be near me. Sam has told me these are usually indicative of being upset with someone," Cas says, and Dean can tell he's trying for some kind of tact, but it still feels like a slap across the face.
"No, Cas, I'm not upset with you," Dean replies, quickly, because if he's certain about anything right now, he's not upset with Cas. Well, other than for the whole trapping him into trying to talk about feelings, which falls under the category of "everyone else in his life too", so. "I'm... sorry you thought that." he adds.
Cas is still frowning though, so he's definitely not out of the woods.
"If you have something weighing on your mind, you could always tell me," Cas says, looking sort of down and to the left which firmly suggests that Cas has been sort of... eavesdropping on his general state of being pissed and depressed, but at least had the courtesy to not flat out peek into his mind to find out what it is, and Dean is grateful for small favors.
"It's really sort of a... personal problem, Cas," Dean tries, feeling like a jerk, because, predictably, Cas makes that small, wounded face that he gets when they run into dick angels and he comes back from trips to find God. But it is a personal problem- it's not Cas or Sam's fault that he just can't suck it up and be happy for them.
"Dean, you're hurting," Cas just says, finally, looking frustrated and unhappy and Dean wants to drown himself in the shower, because he's just being such an unpardonable douche.
"Look, Cas, it's- I'm- I want you and Sam to be happy," Dean finally settles for that, because it's not a lie- it's just not the whole truth, either. Cas looks puzzled.
"Dean, Sam is upset because he believes you to be angry with him," Cas says. "Both Sam and I are only distressed because we believed we had done something to merit your censure." Dean shakes his head.
"No, no, I- it's great that you guys are together, you're perfect for each other, I'm just-" Dean starts, but breaks off as Cas's eyebrows nearly fly off his forehead in a very human gesture of surprise. "What?" Cas blinks at Dean.
"Do you mean to say," Cas tries, like he's wholly overwhelmed with confusion at humanity, like the time they tried to take him to see Avatar. "Dean, do you believe Sam and I to be romantically inclined toward each other?"
Dean sort of feels like he's been spun around very fast.
"Are you telling me you're not?" he asks incredulously, because he's pretty sure one of those books was poetry. Cas stares at Dean.
"I am not." Cas says vehemently, and wait-
"Do you mean, you're telling me you aren't in love with Sam, or you're telling me you aren't telling me you're not in love with Sam?” Dean asks, because wait, he's still confused. Cas frowns, like he's faced with insurmountable foes.
"Dean, I have never felt any emotion other than appreciation and friendship for your brother," he says solemnly, like he's testifying in court, but Dean's busy feeling a little light-headed, so he just sort of wavers for a moment.
"Oh, well, that's..." Dean trails off, still a little disbelieving. "Good." Cas shakes his head, slowly.
"I am... surprised you interpreted my interest in Sam in that fashion," Cas admits, and even the word 'interest' sort of makes Dean tense all over. "When in fact," Castiel continues, eyes luminously, inhumanly blue, "I endeavored to become his friend partly because of my interest in you."
Dean feels like he's falling on a roller coaster- weightless and dizzy.
"What?" he finally asks. Cas isn't smiling, but there is a hint of something rueful, amused and dear in the corner of his mouth and Dean can't help but feel a little bit hopeful, at that.
"I was told it was customary to forge a bond with the family members of one whose affections you seek," Cas says and Dean feels his mouth drop open slightly, and he's sure it's a super unattractive look but- what the fuck.
"Who- what?" Dean asks again with feeling. Cas looks faintly sheepish, and Dean can tell he won't like this bit, at all.
"I confess, Gabriel brought the matter to my attention," Cas says and Dean is torn between laughing and crying, because taking relationship advice from Gabriel- fucking Gabriel, is like- God, Dean can't even think of an appropriately disastrous parallel. "He directed me to a source of contemporary advice," Cas adds, pulling a magazine out of his inside coat pocket and- Jesus Christ.
Fucking Gabriel gave Cas a Cosmo.
Dean is about to have a serious breakdown of some kind when, finally, the meaning behind the whole thing hits him like a 2x4.
"Someone whose affections you seek," Dean repeats quietly. Cas tilts his head slightly to one side, as if Dean should know- as if it's common knowledge.
"I was taken aback that you would think I was pursuing Sam," Cas says calmly. "I would have thought that my love for you was obvious."
Dean takes a deep, wrecked, shuddering breath.
"Clearly, not so much," Dean establishes, although he's smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. He plucks the magazine out of Cas's unprotesting hands, snorting at 'Five ways to catch him- and keep him!' "In the future, you should probably just tell me, rather than relying on Cosmo."
Cas nods solemnly, like he's taking it under serious advisement.
"Dean, I am in love with you," Cas says and when Dean blinks, he adds, "You instructed me to tell you."
Dean laughs and pulls Cas up by his lapels and kisses him and kisses him because Cas loves him and isn't dating Sam and Cas read Cosmo to figure out how to tell him. Jesus. Cas responds eagerly, cupping Dean's face with his hands and brushing a thumb behind the shell of Dean's ear. Dean shivers and stares at Cas.
"Where did you learn that?" he demands.
Cas just looks toward the ground where Dean dropped the magazine, which- oh god. In hot pink font, size 72, it proclaims '10 places that will drive him wild!' Dean swallows. "Did you- did you read the whole magazine?" Cas smiles.
"I believe in thorough research," Cas replies, slipping a hand under the edge of Dean's t-shirt, and holy shit, he made a joke. About sex.
"I couldn't agree more," Dean manages thickly. Cas makes a pleased noise, leaning in to kiss Dean again.
"It seems as though I ended up with the studious Winchester brother after all," Cas murmurs against his mouth and smiles as Dean just laughs and laughs.
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