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Sam is saying something, but Kevin's been zoned out in a big way ever since the guy pulled his shirt off. He tries not to look straight at him, because his bare chest is distressingly distracting and there's sweat clinging to his skin and there's just so much of him, and really, can you blame him for staring a little? Apparently he hadn't thought things all the way through when he'd agreed to tag along with Sam for his weekly workout session.
"Kevin? Dude, you okay?" Sam waves a hand in front of Kevin's face, pulling him back to the present.
"Uh. I'm fine. Kinda tired from studying, that's all."
Sam gives him a sympathetic look before going back to whatever it was he was talking about, and Kevin goes back to surreptitiously ogling him out of the corner of his eye, purposely dithering with his own gym bag so he can stand there with Sam as long as possible. He's rudely knocked out of the beginnings to a rather mortifying fantasy when Dean appears out of nowhere and throws an arm around Sam's shoulders. "What're you losers talking about?" Like Sam, Dean is half-naked, and their bare skin is touching all over.
"The hell are you doing here," Sam asks, but he's flashing a blinding grin at Dean, like there's nowhere he'd rather be at this moment than in a sour-smelling locker room with his shirtless brother plastered to his side. "Had nothing better to do, so I thought I'd come see what gets you so hot for this workout thing. I don't get it. 'Side from the girls, I mean. You should see the legs on some of these chicks." Kevin notes that Dean is saying this as he slips a finger idly underneath the waistband of Sam's shorts, and what's weird--well, more weird than usual--is that neither of them seems to notice.
"You're such a prick," Sam says, smiling at Dean like he hangs the sun in the sky. Kevin doesn't get it. He doesn't get them. And he wishes more than ever that he'd never started crushing on his best friend, who only ever seems to have eyes for his brother. And if that isn't the most messed up thought Kevin's ever had, he doesn't know what is. It'd be nice if he could tell himself he's imagining things, but Dean's hand is now splayed over Sam's ass like it belongs there, and again, neither of them seems to think it's in any way strange. Kevin wonders if anyone else in the group has noticed by now that Sam and Dean's brand of weird belongs in a category all on its own, or if he's the only one silently freaking out about it.
"Guys," he says, interrupting their teasing and his own rambling train of thought. "Could you not with the--the touching? It's kinda annoying." Sam gives him an utterly confused look, before sliding his eyes down to where Dean's hand is settled. A spark of clarity shows on his face, and he jolts away from Dean, a blush erupting suddenly on his cheeks.
"What're you talking about?" Dean demands, his hand, which is now hovering over empty space, closing into a loose fist. Kevin blanches a little. "Just. The concept of personal space is, like, foreign to you two."
"So?" Dean scratches at his bare stomach, and Kevin watches Sam's eyes glaze over as he tracks the motion, his attention completely diverted from the conversation. Kevin sighs frustratedly and yanks the zipper of his bag closed with more force than necessary, knowing that anything he could say would just make the situation uncomfortable and tense.
"Nothing. Never mind." He marches to the door and leaves them behind, realizing full well that he's still rank with sweat but unable to bear the idea of hanging around the brothers long enough to change his clothes.
It can't be more than half a minute before he hears Sam calling to him, a hasty "Kevin, wait!" reaching his ears, accompanied by the sound of rushing footsteps. Kevin freezes, hand clenching tightly around the strap of his bag before he turns around and waits for Sam to catch up. He'd evidently remembered to put his shirt back on before leaving the locker room, and Kevin doesn't know whether he's relieved or disappointed.
"What, Sam?" He can't keep the edge of irritation out of his voice, even though the more rational part of his brain is telling him that really, Sam's done nothing wrong.
Sam sucks in a single breath, sweeping the tangle of his bangs out of his face before saying, "I do something to upset you? Whatever it is, man, just let me know so I can fix it." His brow is wrinkled with concern, and Kevin really fucking wishes he didn't find it adorable.
"Don't worry about it. Sleep-deprivation, that's all. Seriously."
Sam bites his lip, frown not leaving his face. "It's--it's not just. You've been acting different around me for a while now; I know it's not just in my head." Kevin's heart jumps into his throat, and he feels unsettlingly like he's going to throw up. "What do you mean?"
Sam flushes a deep red and pulls at his collar, looking off to the side as he stammers, "Just, ah. If you--if you've figured some things out, about me..." He pauses before continuing the thought. "About m-me and Dean, then. I kinda need to know about it."
Kevin's stomach swoops again, because Sam may be totally in the dark about Kevin's feelings for him, but this is an entirely different can of worms. He hadn't thought there was actually anything going on between Sam and Dean, but he's now re-evaluating that opinion, shock twisting his tongue into knots.
"You...you and Dean...? I thought it was, um, one-sided." Sam laughs nervously, like it's just set in that Kevin has been noticing things he didn't want noticed. When he answers, his voice is at once hushed and high-pitched. "No, yeah. It's. It's all me; he doesn't suspect anything. He's kinda clueless when it comes to this stuff." You're one to talk, Kevin thinks bitterly, even though he's relieved at Sam's admission. He feels guilty about that for all of three seconds before he gets irritated at himself, because they're brothers, for Christ's sake.
His silence has apparently lasted longer than it's felt like it has, because Sam is fidgeting and frowning and looking generally spooked, peeking warily at Kevin like he's going to kick him in the shin and run off to print his secrets in the local newspaper, or something equally ridiculous. "Look," Sam says abruptly, making Kevin startle a bit. "I know I'm a freak, I get it. I'm disgusting. But it's got nothing to do with Dean, so don't drag him into it by telling people about this. Please."
It's got everything to do with Dean, Kevin's mind retorts, but Sam's eyes are vulnerable and already shining with hurt, so all he says is, "I won't tell anyone."
Sam blinks rapidly, looking surprised, which Kevin takes offense to; they've been friends a long time and Sam should really think better of him by now. "Promise?" He blurts. He sounds about six years old.
"Yeah. I promise, I won't say a thing. Not if you don't want me to." A shaky smile breaks out over Sam's face, and he's almost giddy as he says, "God, thank you. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you--"
"I'm good," Kevin interrupts, waving him off. The one thing he wants from Sam is the one thing he clearly can't have. "Okay, well. I owe you one, big time." Kevin shrugs, wishing this conversation wound end so he can go home and try to force it from his mind. "Hey." Sam's huge, warm hand clasps Kevin's shoulder, and he's suddenly way closer than he'd been a second ago. Kevin's heart stutters.
"You're the best, Kev. Y'know that?"
"Sure, sure," Kevin deadpans, hoping he's masking the way his pulse is racing at Sam's closeness.
"See you tomorrow?"
"Uh-huh," Kevin breathes, and before his brain can catch up, Sam leans down and pecks him on the cheek.
He then turns to go, offering Kevin a grin and a wave before he jogs back over to the locker room. Kevin stares after him, mouth slack and cheek tingling minutely. He's even more frustrated now than he'd been in the locker room, and he thinks to himself that a time-consuming, brain-numbing study session or two would do him a world of good at this point.