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Giggling sounded from your bedroom. Sam was on his laptop, trying to ignore it, as he knew it was probably just you looking at YouTube videos of that one couple that refused to get together. Sam only assumed that was it because you’d gone to him multiple times in a mood that was a mix of anger and confusion and sadness because, as you put it, “They just won’t kiss!”
“Shh, no, you tell him!”
Sam perked his head up and looked at your door, now knowing that there was, in fact, someone in the room with you. He, being a stubborn moose, refused to believe that it was Dean making you laugh. Of course Sam sees the glances at dinner, the corner-of-the-eye stares during research sessions, and they both told him that you liked the one, the only, Dean Winchester. Sam couldn’t deny that he liked you―he knew exactly what it was―but he was perfectly fine with staying your best friend because, hell, you were funny. You’d make him laugh until he pissed his pants (which he did that one Fourth of July that you promised not to talk about) and you’d mumble a “that’s what she said” under your breath every time something was said that he didn’t realize could be taken another way. They were the jokes that made him struggle to keep his lips pressed together so he didn't laugh out loud. Laughing too loudly at your jokes would welcome Dean in, make him a part of it, which Sam just didn't want. He wanted the funny moments to stay between you two. You preferred it that way as well, only because Sam was easier to entertain. And you always did gain confidence whenever people laughed at your jokes.
With that being said, Sam totally loved the funny side of your personality. It made him love hanging out with you.
He just didn’t understand how you seemed to be attracted to Dean instead of him.
Not that he was jealous. But Dean made dirty jokes that made you noticeably uncomfortable, where you'd give an awkward chuckle or disapproving shake of your head. He would take non-consensual bites of your food, which you never found to be a flirty gesture (who could blame you, it's your food). He would drink the last of your beer without asking. Dean pissed you off more than Sam did. So why did you steal glances at him when he wasn’t looking? Why did your eyes linger on him longer when he was smiling? Why were you sometimes... Nervous around him?
Sam didn’t want to know. Sam didn't want to care. Sam just wanted to focus on his laptop screen, but that's when your bedroom door opened, making way for you and Dean's exit.
“Hey, Sam,” Dean called to him. “(Y/N) and I need to talk to you about something.”
“Yeah?” Sam responded, pretending like he was so interested in whatever was on the screen. Seemed to be an ad for soap he must have clicked on. That right there is a virus, you would have said.
“How would you feel if we said we were... Not officially, but... together?” you said. Sam looked up, and focused on your facial expression.
You looked nervous. It was the look of a teenage girl asking her father if she could stay out until ten o'clock instead of eight-thirty. Sam, with a couple months of experience in the "The Girl I Love Does Not Love Me Back" game, didn't feel the sudden sadness of hearing it out loud. Why would he? He knew this was coming. And he guesses he would rather have Dean be with you instead of break your heart. And you must have known Sam had feelings for you if you looked so nervous about it-
Sam now realized his mind was rambling. He searched for an answer.
He cleared his throat. “I’d say… Congratulations?” he said, trying to sound casual, maybe even a little bored. He didn’t want to seem too overly excited, but he also didn’t want to be a dick about it. Just a, “Let’s eat cake and move on,” type of reaction. And, now that he thought about it, it seemed like an asshole way to put it.
“You’re not upset?” Dean said.
“Why would I be upset?” Sam responded as he clicked out of a spam browser and continued reading something about… What was it, a murder? Nope, this was the Chuck E. Cheese website. Why was he here? Maybe it was Sam trying to distract his mind of the not-so-sudden realization that you liked Dean better.
Dean, now having made his way over to Sam, just laughed with ease and patted him on the shoulder. “Thought you’d be jealous of the dashingly handsome brother getting the girl.”
“I am not the girl, and you’re not the superhero; I can kick your ass into oblivion, young sir,” you commented on that, and Sam cracked a smile, whether or not it was difficult. He also tried not to take what Dean just said to heart.
“No, man, you guys… Good for you guys. I’m glad you’re happy,” Sam said, gluing his eyes to the screen once more. He glanced at Dean to lower suspicion, and he put on a casual smile.
“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, and he patted Sam’s shoulder again, with thick awkwardness in the following silence.
Sam did kind of feel happy for you guys. Like he already admitted, he would rather have Dean sweep you off your feet with love than push you down with rejection. Maybe he just blamed himself. Part of him thought it was for not making a move earlier. Another part thought it was the childish assumption than just because you guys were best friends that’d you’d automatically have feelings for him, like this was a poorly-written love story by a young author.
Sam was okay. He wouldn’t let himself gawk over his brother’s girlfriend. He believed in steps; step one was becoming your best friend, but that wasn’t that hard, because with your guys’ bond you could stop wars together. Step two was developing the crush on you, which wasn’t hard either, as next to Dean you were another ray of sunshine to him. Step three was tricky, it was keeping his crush on you a secret so he didn’t ruin the friendship. Step four, which always eventually comes, can either be rejection or acceptance, and in this case, he knew what it was. But then came step five, which was coping, and he knew it wouldn’t be hard.
He was just happy you were happy. Maybe that’s all he really wants.