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“Morning, sunshine.”
Sam freezes about half a foot from the kitchen doorway. He’s heard Dean use this nickname (pet name?) with exactly one person (angel—semantics).
“Hello, Dean.” The angel replies, and Sam isn’t surprised he guessed it right. He is surprised, however, by the tone of both their voices – almost… fond? Sam frowns. Alright, he’s not stupid (say what you will), he’s lived with his brother’s and Cas’ palpable sexual tension for almost 12 years now. For all of Dean’s (platonic?) flirtation, he’s never heard him sound quite so, what’s the word? Ah, right: domestic.
He's witnessed his older brother being angry, frustrated, happy, heartbroken – all because of Castiel. But never has he heard him quite this domestic. Almost like… no. Sam wouldn’t have missed it? Would he? No way he would’ve missed the pair of idiots finally getting together.
Granted, they’ve been busy lately – with the whole Chuck deal going on – but then again, they’re always busy, there’s always some kind of terrifying, apocalyptical monster out there threatening to tear the world apart. The fact that the current one is God himself is no excuse.
A sound distinctively akin to a chuckle makes him snap out of wherever the hell his thoughts were going to, and Sam realizes something is definitely up – Cas almost never chuckles. He decides fuck it, he’s an experienced hunter, he’s definitely able to peek into the kitchen without being spotted. Especially if he’s right and the two asshats are too busy acting like a married couple – as they do.
The doorway into the kitchen makes it hard to be stealthy, but, lucky for him, Dean and Cas are sitting side by side, backs turned to him, which probably means Sam can listen and peek into whatever is going on right now without being noticed. He wonders, for a full second, if they might’ve been cursed – love spells are a bitch to deal with (he would know, he’s been victim to them before) – but that thought is quickly wiped off his mind.
Cas turns his head to face Dean, sending him a concerned looked. “Dean, you can’t just replace sleep with coffee, you know that, right?” He tilts his head slightly as the question slips out, and Dean simply shrugs.
“Whatever, it works. See? I feel great.” Dean gestures towards himself. “Couple o’ mugs three times a day and you feel just like you slept a full eight hours.”
Sam rolls his eyes at that – typical Dean. Cas, however, doesn’t find the statement all that funny.
“Dean.” He says, like the word conveys everything his brother needs to hear.
Dean sighs, and puts his mug down.
“I know, Cas. I’m trying, alright? It’s just…” The hand previously holding the mug comes up to rake through his hair. “Sleeping isn’t just sleeping. It’s also dreaming, which, in my case, means nightmares. Not even about myself; trust me, I can deal with those. But no, I see Sam, and I see you and Jack. I see all of you, dying, every night. And I’m there, just watching, unable to do anything.” Sam’s eyes widen at his brother’s confession. Dean has this awful habit of keeping things - namely, his feelings - to himself. Sam’s glad Dean has someone he can talk to now, even if that someone isn’t him. “When I wake up, there’s a couple of seconds, where I just lay down and I don’t know if what I saw was real or not. So, if I can help it, I…” There’s a pause, a moment of silence which feels too loud, even if no one is talking. And then, Dean’s hand finds Cas’, and that’s when Sam knows. “I can’t bare to lose you again. The thought alone makes me—I can’t, Cas.”
Sam is starting to feel like he should really turn around and leave, pronto, but just as he moves to do so, he comes face to face with Jack, who’s frowning up at him. Before the younger gives them both away, Sam places his index finger over his own lips, in a desperate attempt for Jack to stay silent.
Jack still looks confused, but he mouths an “okay” and goes to stand where Sam had been just a second ago, peeking into the kitchen. Sam trails after him, his head above Jack’s as the two of them listen in.
“Mn,” Dean is nodding, replying to something Cas had said to him. “I-I guess we could try that.” Did he just stutter?! Sam’s jaw actually drops. Casti-fucking-el’s just made his older brother blush. Sam pats his back pockets, but frowns upon realizing he’d forgotten his phone in his bedroom (this would’ve been great blackmail material).
Tuning back in, Cas is smiling at Dean as he gets up, taking the empty mug on the table with one hand and ruffling Dean’s hair with the other. Disgusting, they’re absolutely disgusting. Sam knows he’s grinning like an idiot at this point.
Cas places the mug on the sink, then grabs the frypan filled with cooked bacon from stove and takes it to Dean, who happily steals every last slice to his own place. Before placing the pan back, Cas leans down, presses his lips to Dean’s cheek, and lingers over his ear for a moment. Whatever he whispers makes Dean go tense for a second, before his stance softens again and he smirks. And oh, Sam does not like that expression. Castiel barely has time to put the pan down on the table before Dean turns, grabs hold of his tie, and pulls him down into a heated kiss, full on the lips. Cas releases a tiny yelp, but quickly adjusts, regaining his balance by holding on to Dean’s shoulders, while the latter holds onto the blue tie with his right hand, the left one having come up to grip the angel’s hair.
Sam doesn’t realize he’s talking until it’s too late. “Dude, come on, this is a kitchen!”
Dean leans back, breaking into a fit of giggles – giggles! – and Sam takes it back, he takes it all back: this so much worse than the palpable sexual tension.
Cas stands back up, pushing away from Dean’s shoulders, and turns to look at Sam and Jack.
“Good morning, Sam. Jack.” Cas greets, nodding once and behaving like he hadn’t just been trading spit with his older brother. “Coffee?” He offers.
“No, thank you.” Jack answers, and Sam whirls around to look at him. Him too? Why is no one acknowledging what just happened. Hello? Jack walks past him and sits opposite to Cas.
“Guys, seriously. What?” Sam speaks up, and he looks back at Dean just in time to hear the phone camera snap.
“You should see your face right now.” Dean mocks, his hair messy and lips red.
“Spying on people is a bit rude, Sam.” Cas says, and suddenly it dawns in Sam’s mind – so that’s what the angel had whispered to his brother. Sam glares at the pair.
“I can’t believe you two.” He shakes his head, his hair gently swaying from side to side. “Out of all the possible ways you could’ve said something… a simple “Hey Sam, Cas and I finally got over our shit and now we’re dating.” would’ve been enough.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Dean asks, mouth filled with bread and bacon.
Sam sighs, and takes a sip from the coffee Cas hands him. Jack perks up in his seat.
“Does this make you my step father, Dean?”
Sam chokes on his coffee.