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"Vegan leather," Eileen said, kicking her feet up onto the nearest bookshelf, "is often just plastic."
Jack perked up from working on his sketch of Cas in profile. "Recycled plastic?"
Recycling was one of Jack's responsibilities in the bunker, along with regular trash removal and bringing the cans back in from the curb on Thursday mornings. He was kind of a hard ass about cutting down on single-use plastics, which Sam both agreed with and found amusing until it required him to buy shampoo in a bag, a concept Jack had been way too into. Sam had been forced to sneak in his Sephora contraband under darkness of night and start using a shower caddy. Thankfully, Cas was the only one who'd seen the caddy and Cas did not narc.
"Sometimes. Not always." Eileen took a drink of beer. "And plastic becomes micro-plastic. There's also the problem of the chemicals used in some forms of fake leather."
"That doesn't," Jack said slowly, "sound like it would make vegan leather a great substitute for the environment."
"Real leather can have some of scary processing problems too," Sam noted.
"Also, it's cow," Dean said. "Bub ohn thetheer hund, cowed's lishush."
Everyone waited for him to clarify his statement.
Dean swallowed the enormous bite of cheeseburger he'd put in his mouth. "On the other hand, cow is delicious."
"So that makes leather okay?" Jack asked.
"Some skins are bought directly from meat producers," Eileen explained. "Sometimes every part of the animal is used."
Dean made a noise that was dreadfully close to a moan. Sam signed the word "Gross" to Eileen, and her eyes darted from Sam to Dean biting into his burger like he was experiencing overwhelming, perverse ecstasy and then back to Sam.
Sam loved her for a number of reasons, not least of which was the laughter she was holding back. He wanted to kiss the smile off her mouth and she knew it.
"Gross," Dean said out loud, glancing between Sam and Eileen before Sam could put away his own helpless smile at her. "Get a room."
"Okay," Jack said, erasing part of Cas's nose. "This hasn't helped me decide which jacket I want to buy later. But it will help me do some more research."
"This is the least sexy conversation about leather that has ever happened," Dean complained.
Sam pinned him with a look. "Considering who you're talking with, that's probably okay."
Dean's narrowed eyes seemed to indicate he was less convinced of this than Sam wanted to think about.
"It might also help to try on the jackets this time," Sam suggested to Jack, stretching over to put his empty beer bottle on the tray he'd brought into the library for the dirty dishes. "Maybe one of them doesn't fit like you want or isn't comfortable in the first place."
"Right," Jack said. He frowned at the sketch and erased Cas's ear too.
Sketch Cas was now just a chin, a trench coat, a head full of cowlicks, and thirteen eyeballs. Sam imagined the drawing stuck to the fridge with Scooby-Doo magnets and found he wasn't as weirded out by the possibility as he probably should've been.
Real live Cas, whose hair was somehow even less combed than his artistic counterpart's, entered the room with a basket of clean laundry, which he unceremoniously dumped onto the other library table. He started separating items into piles by owner. After he'd folded a couple of pairs of lacy underwear, Eileen gasped.
"I'm so sorry," she said, jumping up and bouncing over to him. "I didn't mean for you to have to wash my stuff."
Cas said, "It's no bother. Helped fill up the machine."
Dean asked Cas, "Why are you laying out those underwear like that?"
"Oh. Are they all Eileen's?" Cas sounded confused, but the expression he was giving Dean was...hmm. Like a challenge.
Dean's face was a fantastic shade of pink. He went back to drinking his beer.
Sam chose to remain blissfully, willfully ignorant of whatever the hell was happening over there by sharing another moment of pure mind-meld with the woman he adored, who was still brimming with laughter and smart (or kind) enough not to actually laugh out loud.
Eileen kissed Cas's cheek and wiggled her eyebrows at Sam. "The service here is impeccable."
"You should move in, take advantage of the perks year 'round," Dean said, before taking another long draw off his beer and in no way seeming like he realized he'd just said something else out of turn.
Sam, for his part, had stopped breathing.
Jack perked up to say, "Oh, you should live here, Eileen. Sam would be so happy."
Sam really would, Sam thought; at some distance he knew referring to himself in the third person was oooof.
Eileen held Sam's gaze, walking over to him wearing the slyest smile. "Would he?" she signed.
Yes, Sam mouthed, knowing his whole body was blushing and unable to look away.
"I might have to think about it, then." Eileen cocked her head, pondering in exaggeration. She bent over and kissed Sam for a few far too-brief seconds, grinning as she broke off the kiss.
"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, catching Dean grinning equally lecherously out of the corner of his eye.
"I think this drawing needs puff paint," Jack muttered to himself and rose to go find his crafting case.
"I do like windows, though," Eileen said. She trailed her fingers into Sam's hair and he managed not to swoon. "So that's something to think about also."
For a moment, her expression wavered as she watched Sam. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. "Yeah, windows are nice."
Once again, they teetered on the edge of a much bigger conversation. For now, Eileen's eyes were dark and luminous and Sam wanted to lose every part of himself in them for while, so he stood, still holding her hand, and engaged in what he hoped was the universal body language for Please Can We Go Get Naked Somewhere My Brother Isn't?
Eileen wasted no time interpreting Sam's unspoken plea like a pro.