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The job was done, the house was safe, and it was huge . Electricity, running water, those were luxuries enough, and this had all those and more: three stories, little arches over the windows, a garage for five and a freshly-stained wooden door. It was the kind of house that might have a bath big enough for Sam.
Oh, he was going to find out. He’d gotten a feel for the layout after deconstructing a couple of walls on the bottom floor, so it was natural to walk up the stairs, down the left and into a gleaming white room with a gigantic bath. His breath caught. The hot tap was red and dark in the dimness of lowered blinds. Sam’s fingers folded around the cross handle and twisted. The faucet whined, then eased as heated water gushed out and steam rose in his face.
Wow.
Just wow.
There were towels on the rack, the temperature was perfect, and Sam could sink beneath the water. Bliss. The others could entertain themselves elsewhere for a bit, he was going to lean back until his eyelids were blanketed in warmth and stretch his toes up like ten tiny heads of Hydra rising from the lake of Lerna…
"Ahhhh," murmured Dean.
Sam jumped. His feet splashed beneath the water. His brother was in the room, clearly he’d invaded while Sam was lost in thought. Dean flashed a smile from the toilet seat. Sam threw him a look of horror: what was he doing here--
Dean looked down, and the toilet started to tinkle. A relieved sigh whooshed out of him.
"Dean!" Sam protested.
"Hrm?" a noise of innocent curiosity.
"What the hell. Get out!" He pointed to the door with a wet arm.
"Aww Sammy," Dean spoke slowly, gaze averted, head tilted in thought. "I just wanted to let you know..." his voice went rough and he swallowed with emotion. His bowels belched.
Sam flinched and gave the tiles next to the bath his best glare. He wanted out… but Dean was drumming his fingers against the side of the toilet bowl, dragging his thoughts into order with considerable difficulty. Sam owed it to him to listen. He raised his eyes to Dean, who stared back. Were they really going to have a moment? Here?
Dean's lip twitched. "I give a shit about you."
Sam grinned and shook his head in bewilderment. What are you saying?
Plunk! went the toilet water beneath Dean.
Ohhhh SHIT!
Sam's tongue blocked his throat, and his smile fell away. His brother--ugh. He pinched his nose and scrambled, rising from the water like an angry kraken and ready to make Dean pay. Dean leaned towards the door, a smile hiked up to his gums, but remained seated and committed to his business. He wasn’t done?
Sam halted with one foot out of the water. This had started, and he was powerless to stop this from happening. He shuddered, and fell back in with a splash. Oh, Dean was full of it!
With flaring nostrils, Sam gripped the bath’s edge with both hands and lowered his eyes to the tile floor, as though he could through it to where their friend was making himself at home in the floor below. "Castiel, who raised my brother," he ground out, "I’ll always be grateful for that. Now put him on the potty downstairs, he’s got a poop coming. Please."
“Oi, hey--”
Dean had just enough time for a show of faux-offence before he vanished from the room with a pop like a cork from a bottle. Or an ass from a toilet. Either way, the sound freed an aroma and allowed it to permeate the room.
Sam suppressed the urge to breathe in. He took stock of his diaphragm, chest, and lungs, and shouted.
“AND FLUSH THE TOILET!”
The imperative to breathe tugged at his throat, so Sam drowned it face-first in the bathwater. If God was on their side, the toilet would have an automatic air-freshener. He could hold on until the stink was taken from the air.