Chapter Text
It is embarrassing, really, to realize how many times Sam has borne witness to his brother’s sexual pursuits.
When he was thirteen, just entering his teenage angst years, he remembers arriving at room twenty-four in the Super 8 Hotel in Indiana, where they were staying while his father hunted a child’s ghost in Noblesville. He came face to face with his brother reenacting the Kamasutra with Morgana, a fair-skinned barista with dyed black hair his brother had managed to get the attention of.
He opened the door without knocking because, hey, it was Dean and Sam! So why the hell should he have knocked? And all he saw was his brother’s back while he was having the time of his life.
A gasp escaped his lips and suddenly his brother turned around so fast one could have thought he was being caught while pickpocketing in a bus or something. Dean was so surprised and caught in the momentum that his supernatural awareness had brought through that he had landed hard on his ass, stark naked, and letting Sam have a pretty good look at the woman he was laying with.
-“Sam! Sam what the hell! You were supposed to be at the library, man!”
He had stood, stupefied, while watching everything and too embarrassed to move. His brother had been mortified, but that was only the first of too many times and close calls he would be witness to in his teenage and adult life, watching his brother go from conquest to conquest.
Still, given the apocalypse and everything, he watched his brother take a break in his pursuits those months after Sam murdered Lilith and unleashed Lucifer into the world. Sam’s shame, self-hatred and disgust had been, and still is, so massive that he cannot remember a time when he was content with his life, and now he cherishes those moments when his brother is whimsical and unpreoccupied by the weight of being a hero, a savior; of being Dean freaking Winchester. Those moments are now mildly funny to him now.
Still, he remembers the first time he heard the language of the holy, out of context and in ways so human that he blushes at the thought.
That night is still embedded in his brain, the hopelessness and everything that was happening due to his ignorance, his willingness to believe in someone – something - so inherently evil. He still cannot believe he used to be so naïve, and the planning and strategizing with half-truths, making the best decisions he could make with the knowledge he had.
He had been feeling restless and had wanted to retrieve his knife from the armory inside the Impala for target practice to take his mind off things (say, for example, demon blood) when he heard sounds coming from inside Dean’s baby.
He had stood there, stupefied, like that first time many years prior, hearing his brother being intimate with Anna, the volume of her voice higher than Dean’s grunts. At that time he thought the foreign sounds leaving the former Angel’s mouth were broken moans.
In retrospect he realized, months later that was her, urging Dean, encouraging him; her attempt to reconcile with words the union between humanity and Divinity, her personal Heaven on earth as she experienced the passion and pleasure of the human flesh.