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"Have you told Sam yet?" asked Bobby when Dean walked into the kitchen.
Him and Sam had been living with Bobby for over a month now and he still had no idea what had happened between Dean and their dad at that last motel. Dean had fully intended on telling his little brother, but it had never come up and, although he didn't like to admit it, he was scared… No, more like terrified.
Sure, Dean was his dad's "good little soldier", but Sam was very like John in more ways than either of them would like to admit. Their anger was so alike it could be genuinely frightening, and Dean hated the idea that John's opinions had transferred to his younger son in a similar way.
Dean shook his head. "He stopped asking me about a week ago."
"You know I ain't going to make you spill, but he's your brother, Dean. You two are joined at the damn hip."
"I know... but..."
Bobby frowned, walking over to Dean who'd sat himself at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. "Sam ain't like your dad, boy. You raised that kid, not John. And you raised him good."
Any other day, Dean might have argued his dad's case a little more, but, well, sue him, he needed the reassurance.
He wasn't panicking or anything. Not really. Though there was a lot to panic about. Coming out was a big thing, right?
Dean was reminded of someone he had met at a bar while they were on the road about a month after he'd realised he was bisexual. He couldn't remember their name, but they'd been cool and made a great one night stand.
It hadn't just been for the sex, though. The two of them had talked - he'd been more open than normal thanks to the whiskey - and it had been nice to finally have someone listen to him. He knew they weren't going to judge - they were non-binary and pansexual (whatever that meant) - and, even if they did, he wasn't ever going to see them again.
They'd told him about their coming out when he asked. How they'd found it a thousand times easier to come out to him, a random stranger, than to come out to their own sister and parents. How it had gone well, but they'd had at least three panic attacks beforehand.
At the time, Dean had found that weird. Now, though, it made a hell of a lot of sense. Strangers could judge and you'd never see them again. Their reactions didn't matter and never would.
With family and friends, however, you'd been keeping that secret for most likely a long time, sometimes years: guilt. Their reactions mattered a lot more: worry and anxiety. And there was always a chance it would go badly too. Maybe they'd even disown you or kick you out of the house.
God, he was fucked.
If Sam reacted badly, would Bobby kick Dean out? He couldn't exactly see him kicking a twelve-year-old out onto the street. Yet, he couldn't really see him asking Dean to leave either. Not after everything.
Bobby's voice cut through his thirteen rushing trains of thought in his brain, two on each track and with every conductor screaming. "Dean, listen to me, kid. Your brother loves you. I know you idjits never say it, but it's true. He loves you and he ain't going to change any of that for something like this, alright."
Bobby was simultaneously being as firm but gentle as Dean had seen before. It was nice, but maybe a little unnerving at the same time. His dad had never been like this and Dean wasn't sure how to react. Orders he could follow. Kind suggestions, though, not so much.
"Thanks, Bobby."
"You're welcome, boy. I ain't going to force you, you know that. But Sam's a great kid. It's going to be alright, son."
Dean found Sam later that evening in Bobby's office. He was sitting at the desk, two textbooks, a work book and several scraps of paper spread out in front of him. Since Bobby had set the both of them up at the local school, Sam had been holed up in either the office or his bedroom, constantly working on a piece of homework or some project for a lesson that Dean didn't even know existed.
Sam looked up when Dean came in. He hovered in front of the desk, unable to bring himself to go any further into the office, let alone sit down or make eye contact with Sam.
He'd planned to go in there with his usual confident demeaner, pretend to not give a shit and just blurt out the news in that ordinary self-assured way he always faked. But, no. His own body was betraying him. His heart was pounding. Feet shuffling and fingers itching for something to do in a futile attempt to distract his brain. He couldn't meet Sam's eyes no matter how hard he tried, and he was sure his brother could see his hands trembling.
The prolonged silence must have clued Sam into the severity of the situation as he closed his textbook - he never closed his book for anyone - and looked up attentively. There was a little crease of worry in his forehead. Then that worry merged into panic.
"Dean, is everything okay? Are you okay?"
Dean ran a hand over his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Sammy."
Sam was still staring at him expectantly. Dean knew he knew he was lying. He wouldn't have come into the office in the first place if everything was 'fine'.
"I - uh - Sammy, you know I ain't great with words - "
"Emotionally inept is probably a better way to put it," said Sam with a smirk.
Dean just glared at him and Sam's smile instantly vanished, merging into a frown. His eyes looked Dean up and down, the worry from before seeping back into his hazel eyes.
"Dean...? What's going on? Is it Dad?"
"No. No, it's not that. Just... fuck, um... can you just give me a minute?"
"Yeah. Of course."
The nerves and fear still flooding into Sam's eyes mirrored Dean's own emotions, but he couldn't do anything to comfort his brother. Not now. He was still shaking, leg bouncing despite his desperate attempts to calm his exponentially increasing anxiety.
Dean didn't know how long he was quiet for, but when he finally met Sam's gaze again, his brother was wearing an expression he hadn't seen before and couldn't force himself to read into. It was obviously worried, but there was something else too. Concern? Definitely apprehension, probably as he was trying to work out what Dean was going to say and overthinking all the different scenarios.
"Dean?"
"Okay..." He closed his eyes in a spur of the moment decision to just blurt it out and hope for the best. "I - Sam, I like guys. And girls, but yeah, also guys. And, I mean, others too."
Sam said nothing and after another minute, Dean finally opened his eyes, taking a couple of steps back to guarantee he was out of punching range of his brother. Not that he thought Sam was going to hit him, of course. But he needed to be sure - and it wouldn't be the first time he'd been pummelled when coming out.
"Okay."
Dean must have misheard that, right?
"Okay?"
Sam stood up, moving around the desk to force his brother to look into his eyes as he spoke. Green meeting hazel brown. "Yes. I said it's okay, Dean. You know that, right? That it's okay?"
Dean cleared his throat. "Bobby might've said something similar, yeah."
Sam laughed. He was almost as tall as Dean now, so brought him in for a tight, reassuring hug. Dean went a lot more willingly than he wanted to, but he couldn't deny his brother's hug was kind of comforting.
"Uncle Bobby's right," said Sam quietly. "As long as you're happy, it doesn't matter to me who you date. Though, thank you for telling me. One of my friends came out as lesbian to me last week. I know it can be hard; I'm proud of you."
Dean pulled away - perhaps a little reluctantly, but there was no way he was going to admit to that. If asked, he'd also definitely deny the tears that were not pooling in his eyes.
"Okay, this is becoming dangerously chick-flick."
Sam sighed. "I should've know this would be too many emotions for you. But still, I am proud of you, Dean. And Bobby is too."
"But Dad's not..." said Dean, his voice almost inaudible and hitching as he forced back the tears. He hadn't even expected himself to say it, only think it. Maybe the emotional moment was effecting his filter.
"Is this what all that was about at that last motel?"
Dean swallowed and nodded, moving his gaze again so Sam wouldn't see the watering of his eyes. "Dad - he - uh, he walked in on me... with a guy."
"Shit. And it didn't go well?" Dean glared at him and Sam nodded. "Sorry. Stupid question."
"It probably didn't help that he was already pissed at me because of your little bid for freedom."
Sam frowned. "Sorry about that. I - I didn't think..."
"Yeah, whatever. The bruises are gone now anyway," said Dean in a very sad and pathetic attempt at a joke.
"I'm sorry, Dean. But you know I'm not like Dad. You do know that, right? I'd never react like that. Ever."
"Yeah, alright. I get it. Bitch."
Sam grinned. "Yeah, I love you too, jerk. Now, I've got to get back to my school work."
"You fucking nerd," laughed Dean before leaving the office to go and find then break the good news to Bobby as Sam sat himself back in front of his mountain of books.
Dean smiled to himself when he closed the office door, leaning against it. All the tension had vanished from his shoulders and back. He'd never even imagined feeling this relaxed, especially not after coming out to someone, but he did.