Work Text:
The little conversations
On me are very rough
They leave me all in pieces
You know there's never time enough
Like a book with missing pages
Like a story incomplete
Like a painting left unfinished
It feels like not enough to eat.
Starvin'
Sam has been mulling over the things he has learned in the last few days. It keeps him up at night.
He has a million new questions.
“when did it start?” he figures sometime after Cas walked into that lake.
“does Dean know?” he isn’t sure Dean is that self-aware.
“have they been together this whole time?” No. Dean is still picking up chicks. Right?
He is up at 2 am sitting in the kitchen mulling over these and about a hundred others.
He doesn’t like interfering in Dean’s love life. Or anyone’s for that matter.
He never even thought of Dean having a love life, not really. He has a sex life, sure.
He is bone tired. These trials are putting him through the ringer but he can’t sleep.
So, he sips his tea at 2 am pondering what to do with what he knows.
He watches Dean carefully now. Watches his interactions with pretty waitresses, easy looking bar tenders, their occasional not-so-grieving widow. He watches as Dean subtly ignores them all.
It’s in a diner in Montana, after their waitress- “Cindy” slipped her phone number into the bill fold that Dean catches him.
“Dude? You look like you’re trying to crack DaVinci’s code or something. You feeling ok?” Dean shoots at him as he crumbles the slip of paper and tosses it into the waste basket on their way back to the Impala.
“Huh. Oh yeah.” Sam shakes his head and folds into the passenger seat.
“What’s up? You’ve been quiet and staring a lot. The trials. They getting worse?” Dean asks from the seat next to him. Not putting the keys into the ignition- turned to face him.
“No. They’re the same bone rattling fun they’ve always been. Just thinking I guess.” He tries to figure out if talking about this would make things worse.
“Yeah, about?” Dean is starting to look a little worried.
Sam takes a deep breath. Worst case scenario Dean leaves him here after socking him in the face.
“You and Cas.” He breathes out.
Dean looks stunned, eye brows shooting up to blend with his hairline.
“What about me and Cas?” Dean sounds more surprised than angry. He'll take the win.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Dean are you guys…” he doesn’t know how to ask.
How do you ask your previously straight, older brother if he is boning your angel friend? Your man shaped angel friend.
He bites his bottom lip and shoots his own eyebrows up in question, hoping Dean can read between the lines.
“Are we what?” Dean is frowning now.
“Are you guys together?” Sam finally gets out on a rushed exhale, shrinking back unconsciously. Trying to get out of fist range.
“What the fuck Sam?” Dean gets out in exacerbation and his eyes are wider than Sam has ever seen them.
“Are we together? Where the hell is that coming from? Did you hit your head or something?” Dean looks out over the parking lot rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“Are you?” Sam almost whispers. Cause that was not a no.
“Jesus Sammy”. Dean shakes his head and gives him this look of utter bewilderment. He wants to laugh then, it looks so much like Castiel’s confused expression it’s too much.
“Dean. If you are- I-just-wanted-you-to-know-that-it’s-ok-with-me. I mean I don’t care if you love a dude.” Sam rushes out again. If he can get his words out fast enough Dean can’t stop him.
“LOVE? Oh my God! What the fuck is going on? Where is this shit coming from? I am not with Cas! Fuck Sam.” Dean gets out of the car and slams the door.
He never slams the car door.
Dean is leaning over the roof and Sam can hear his deep, centering breaths. Sam taught him how to do that years ago. After Jo and Ellen.
Five minutes later he gets back in and shoots a glare at Sam that has his neck hair standing up.
“Shut up. You keep your mouth shut or so help me Sam. I will leave your ass by the road.” he grinds out. And with that he slams in an AC/DC cassette and turns up the volume so loud Sam can’t hear the engine.
Its 3:32am this time when he gives up. He lugs his big frame down the hall to the kitchen. He is thinking about maybe doing coffee this time- he isn’t going back to bed this late. He might as well start working. Then he notices the light in the library is on.
He shuffles over to the wall about to flick it off when he sees Dean sitting at the large table. A bottle of Jack is almost empty next to his tumbler.
He looks up at Sam and empties the remainder into his glass. His eyes are blood shot and puffy. He looks like shit warmed over.
“Wwwhat, ar’ you doin’ up? Sthinkin’ about more wayzz to pizzz me offff” Dean slurs at him.
“Dean, what are you doing? It’s almost four in the morning- have you been drinking this whole time?” Sam walks over to him, completely awake now and grabs for the glass.
“HEEEY! You’re not the bozzz uf me!”Dean almost falls out of his chair as he tries in vain to grab for the last whisky.
“Goddammit Dean. At this rate, it will be liver failure that kills you.” Sam turns to go dump the glass in the sink.
“Whatevers!” Dean yells after him and he is pretty sure he can feel Dean’s eyes roll at him.
He walks back in with a cup of strong black coffee and puts it down in front of Dean who is slumped forward with his head resting on the table now.
“Here- drink this and then I’m getting you to bed.”
He watches as Dean lifts his head and glares at him but he obediently takes the mug and starts sipping. He goes to the kitchen to get his own and they sit in silence drinking the warm bitter liquid down.
He helps Dean up who slumps against him and they start shuffling down back to Dean’s room.
After he flops his brother on his bed he starts taking his heavy boots off and sighs.
“You know. You were wrong Sssammy boy.” Dean says trying to get his coat off but failing.
“About?” Sam asks moving to the next boot.
“S’about me an Cas.” Dean says giving up with his coat and staring to undo his belt instead.
“Yeah you made that clear” Sam scoffs.
“No. I means. You were wrong- we’re not togethers. He’ss an Angel Sammy. He doesn’t care. Didya’ know they don’t have junk.” Dean snickers at the last part.
“Dean. Of course, he cares! The guy is in love with you- anyone can see that. Geez I swear you two idiots are perfect for each other. ” Sam shakes his head as he helps Dean out of his coat.
“Naw. Wait. You really think he likesss me??” Dean asks with such a hopeful look on his stupid face that Sam almost chokes.
“Yes Dean. He loves you. And I am pretty sure you love him. Now go to sleep and we can talk about it in the morning ok?” Sam pulls the blanket over his brother and leaves the door cracked open so he can hear if he throws up later.
Well that went about as well as expected he thinks to himself as he heads for the bathroom.
Feeling a new sense of appreciation for cupids-he still doesn't like the handsy fuckers- but this shit sucks.