Archive of Our Own

"You’re implying that you do not have similar feelings for Sam? So you wouldn't mind if he and I became romantically involved before the end of the day? Exclusively involved?” Dean cringes, involuntarily crumpling the papers in his hand when his fist closes tightly around them. Cas nods thoughtfully at him. “I believe I have my answer.”

"Shut up, you dick," Dean mutters, and he can feel his face turning bright red at how easily Cas had seen through him, even though he’d been trying to keep what he felt for Sam under wraps for years now. Speaking of which…"He’s my brother; I’ve known him since he was small enough to pick up and toss around. I think that entitles me to…uh, his…um.”

Dean coughs a little, skin prickling uncomfortably as he avoids saying something completely inappropriate. He’d barely had any time to accept the glaring fact that he was fucking in love with his little brother before Cas had backed him into this irritating corner. So of course he’s gonna try to get himself out of it before Cas gets ahead. “You really shouldn't be talking about Sam as if he’s an object to be won by either of us,” Cas says, all disapproving frowns, and Dean’s realizing more and more that he’s the underdog in what’s soon to become a contest. He figures Cas would also admonish him for referring to it as a contest, but Cas can’t hear his inner thoughts, so fuck him. 

"I hope you know that you just ruined my entire week with this bullshit," Dean says, feeling testy and anxious and like he absolutely can’t afford to lose, because the mere thought of Sam and Cas going out and excluding him has him knotted into a giant ball of stress and aggravation.

"I merely thought I would alert you as to my intentions, because you are, in fact, his older brother," Cas replies primly, and then flashes out without warning. Dean spits out a curse and jumps up from his chair, barging out the door of his room and down the hall to Sam’s. No way is he gonna just sit back and watch while Cas puts the moves on Sam. No way.

Sam’s scrolling through news articles on his laptop and stifling yawns when the door to his room slams open and Dean strides in. Half a second later, Cas materializes next to him. It’s disorienting for so early in the morning and Sam blinks bemusedly at both of them. “Is something wrong?” He asks, immediately on guard, heart jumping in his chest as he looks alternatively between their stony faces. “No, no,” Dean says, shaking his head too hard, “Nothing’s wrong, it’s nothing.” Sam eyes him curiously. There’s a strange flush creeping up his neck, and his fists are opening and closing like they do when he’s nervous. “Dean, are you okay? You look…” Dean barks a shaky laugh and takes a step backward. “I’m fine, Sammy. I’m good. Nothing wrong here, clear skies all around.”

He sucks in a breath before turning sharply on his heel and bolting from the room. Sam stares after him, looking incredulously to Cas like maybe he can explain what’s eating his brother. “Never mind him,” Cas says, his voice lower than Sam has ever heard it get. He shifts closer until there’s virtually no space between them, then sits directly next to Sam on the bed, shattering the last shard of Sam’s personal space bubble. “Um, Cas…? What’re you doing?”

Sam tries to pull back a little so that their thighs are no longer touching, but Cas makes things even weirder when he takes hold of Sam’s face, tucking his bangs behind his ears as he says, “Sam, I want you to know that I…” He pauses, and Sam gulps, thinking fleetingly about how piercingly blue Cas’s eyes are from this close.

And then Sam’s daze is broken, because Dean stomps back into the room and seizes Sam’s arm, pulling him upright and away from Cas. “Dean, what—”

"Gotta talk to you alone," Dean says loudly, sending a glare so strong Cas’s way that Sam’s taken aback all over again. "What’s going on with you guys today?" Sam asks, but Cas talks over him. "Stop acting like a child, Dean. This is no way to conduct yourself in matters of—" 

"Don’t tell me what to do, you greedy asshole," Dean snaps, and before Sam can begin to ask what on earth they’re talking about, Dean reaches up and kisses Sam right on the mouth.

Sam stops breathing for a minute, and Dean, apparently oblivious to the mindfuck he’s causing, deepens the kiss, fingers digging into Sam’s back possessively and tongue doing things that Sam is completely unable to process. Dean pulls away when it’s clear that Sam isn’t going to respond to the kiss, blinks rapidly as he catches his breath. 

"I’m…I’m." Dean stutters, scrubbing a hand through his hair and avoiding Sam’s eyes. "...Sorry," he finally says, escaping the room again with a hand pressed to his mouth, not so much as glancing back. Sam stares wide-eyed into the distance, heart thundering and lips slick with Dean’s spit. He turns slowly back to Cas, warily noting the displeasure on his face. "What—what the fuck was that about?" 

"Your brother is a slave to his emotions, that’s what. His self-control leaves much to be desired." Cas takes Sam’s hand and it’s all Sam can do not to flinch away, after how this morning’s been going. 

“I wouldn’t be so brash,” Cas continues, “as to throw myself at you like that. I would ask your permission first.” Sam’s honestly starting to sweat at this point; he has no idea what’s happening, the inside of his mouth still tastes like Dean, and Cas is looking at him like he wants to eat him. Thirty-one years old and his life is only getting more bizarre. “Is this some kind of birthday prank you guys agreed on?” Sam asks, pulling his moist hand out of Cas’s grasp. ”Is that it? Are you messing with me? It’s not nice to jerk me around like this, you know.”

Cas looks suddenly stricken. “Ah. Yes, of course…your birthday.” Sam instantly regrets saying anything, because it was foolish to even entertain the notion that they’d remember; it’s been years since anybody did something for Sam on his birthday, and he really doesn’t mind in the slightest. Really. It’s just that he’d latched onto it as an explanation for Cas and Dean’s unusual behavior, but it looks as if he was way off the mark. More likely, they were cursed into embarrassing themselves, or something. “Never mind, Cas. You don’t need to explain.” Sam turns to his laptop, booting it up and already starting to put the morning’s hijinks out of his head. “Sam, I—”

"Hey, it’s fine. You should go see what’s up with Dean; he looked pale earlier. Might be coming down with something." Sam smiles at Cas in what he hopes is reassurance, and Cas nods reluctantly and disappears, leaving him alone at last. 

"We have to do something for him," Cas insists, "It's his birthday, and we both forgot it—unforgivable!" Dean rolls his eyes and scowls, still angry at Cas for what he indirectly made him do an hour ago. "Birthdays were never a big deal for Sam and me; I don’t see why you’re so upset. I know the guy better than you ever will, and believe me, he forgets his own birthday half the time." The look on Cas’s face is thunderous, and if Dean hadn’t gotten over the whole ‘divine wrath’ shtick a million years ago, he might be a little intimidated. "Sam is my dear friend—"

"—Your dear friend who you wanna fuck six ways to Sunday."

"You are projecting. And all this is besides the point; the fact remains that we have to obtain gifts for him before the day ends." 

"I’ll buy him a car if it gets you to back off and quit trying to turn my brother into your boy-toy.” 

"I take offense to that. The age difference between us may be great, but his astounding intellect and unequaled emotional maturity make it very—"

"Please shut up," Dean groans, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on. He drags his feet through the bunker and tries to resist plugging his ears as Cas rambles happily about Sam’s eyes and how they look when the sunlight catches them. The trip to the store is going to be a herculean one. 

They don’t buy Sam a car, but they do find him a couple of old books he’d mentioned in passing, as well as a backlight for his laptop, 

a Kindle e-reader, a small cake, and some posters for his room (which Cas had picked out, because all of the ones Dean pointed to involved semi-nudity in some form or another). As they’re walking around, Dean tells Cas to wait outside and enters an antique store he’d noticed on their way to the plaza. When he comes out, he has a little box tucked into his pocket, hand clenched around it, and he’s not sure if he’s going to give Sam this particular gift. 

"This is a rather meager collection of presents," Cas says, interrupting Dean’s train of thought. "I want him to fully realize how much I care for him, but it seems this human custom is ill-suited for that purpose." 

"Oh yeah? How so?" Dean starts walking out to the parking lot, and Cas follows close behind him. "A gesture as insignificant as a material gift cannot possibly be enough to encompass how I feel about Sam.” He stares at Dean very pointedly until Dean shakes his head in exasperation. ”You’re more dirty-minded than you look, you know that?”

Sam looks too stunned for words when they hand him his presents—unwrapped, of course, because who has time to dick around with wrapping paper and ribbons? 

”This is what you guys were out doing? I…I can’t believe—” Sam’s voice cuts off and his throat works like he’s about to burst into big pansy tears, which horrifies Dean. He’s also slightly miffed at himself, because if he’d known that Sam cared this much about birthday gifts, he’d have made sure to get him something every year.

"We hope you’ll forgive us for not remembering, Sam," Cas says, edge of nervousness to his voice. "I wanted to gift you with something more substantial, but I couldn’t think of anything that would even begin to—"

"No, are you kidding? This is—these are perfect, guys. Thank you." 

Sam pulls them both into a hug, and all Dean can think about is how good Sam smells. That is, until Sam leans back and smiles widely at them and the pure happiness coming off his face makes Dean’s legs feel a bit unsteady. Distantly, Dean is aware of Cas saying “You’re very welcome”, and Sam squeezing his shoulder affectionately. Dean pulls the little box out of his pocket, palms sweating as he thrusts it at Sam before he can lose his nerve. “What’s this?” 

"Just open it," Dean grunts, looking at the floor like he’s a middle-schooler at his first dance. Sam does as he’s told, lifting out the necklace inside and examining it silently. Its golden pendant glints as the light hits it, and Dean’s mouth develops a mind of its own. "I know it was probably a bad idea; your amulet was one-of-a-kind, un-replaceable, but I saw that in the window of the store and it looked close enough and I thought maybe, maybe you could wear it and it’d remind you of—or, I dunno, I guess I’m trying to apologize for throwing it away in the first pla—”

Sam hugs him again to shut him up, just the two of them this time, whispering his gratitude into Dean’s ear. And if Dean wanted to kiss him before, he really wants to this time, but he figures that might be pushing it, especially with Cas standing right there. When Sam breaks the hug and puts the necklace on, tiny ram’s-head pendant resting against his chest, Dean grins at Cas smugly, but Cas is too busy looking misty-eyed to glower at him in return. Several hours  later, after the cake has been devoured and Sam has retired to his room and Dean is conked out on the couch, flipping idly through TV channels, Cas speaks up.

"Fair warning: this is but a temporary truce. I will resume my courtship of your brother first thing tomorrow." 

"I hate you."

Cas pats his knee serenely. “I hardly think you can blame me for trying; Sam is desirable in ways that, quite frankly, confuse me.”  

"Yeah," Dean says, popping a joint in his arm as he stretches languidly, "He has a fucking perfect ass.”

The flustered expression on Cas’s face is priceless.