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Something is wrong with Dean.
At least Sam is quite sure of that. Since days he seems to avoid his little brother, spending all his time in his room or in front of the TV with the volume turned up so loud any normal conversation is impossible. He is fidgety and jumpy as hell and it's driving Sam crazy because he has no fucking clue what could have caused this.
“Okay, what's going on, Dean?” Sam feels like cornering an animal, but he can't take it anymore. Dean seems even cagey about sitting at the same table for lunch.
“Uh … nothing,” Dean tries to deflect, very ineffectively. His whole attention is on the burger in front of him as if he fears that one glance at Sam would be enough for him to crumble.
“Oh please, Dean, there is something bugging you big time,” Sam says. “C'mon, just tell me.”
“Sam ...”
“Is it me?” he finally asks the question that's bothering him all this time. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“What? No, Sammy!”
“Are you sure? Because you can't watch me in the eyes, you make sure not to stay in the same room with me for too long … I get the feeling I did something majorly wrong, so please, just tell me!”
Dean immediately shakes his head. “It's not you, Sam!”
“So then it's you?”
Dean looks like he wants to dodge again, just take his freaking burger and flee into his room. But instead he sighs in exasperation and closes his eyes. “Okay, listen, Sammy … There is something I need to tell you and I … I don't know how.” He rubs his temple. “I'm hiding for the past days, trying to figure out how to approach this fucking topic. But apparently I'm a goddamned chickenshit.”
Sam blinks, processing this new information. “So … is it something bad?”
“Um … the news themselves are not bad, but you probably won't like how long I kept this from you.”
Sam frowns. “How long?”
Dean inspects his burger even further. “Well … about twenty years.”
Sam doesn't know what to say. Obviously it's an important issue and for some reason Dean decided that now is the right time to confess after all these years, but apparently he feels so guilty for keeping silent for two decades that he can't overcome his nervousness.
Well, the solution to that is quite simple.
“When I was six I played with one of Dad's knives although I wasn't allowed to and destroyed two of your favorite shirts,” Sam says. “I threw them away and claimed afterwards that the motel's maid took them by accident and never spoke of it again.”
Dean squints his eyes skeptically. “Why are you telling me this?”
Sam just shrugs. “Let's play a game. I tell you one of my secrets, you tell me one of yours.”
Dean is silent for about ten seconds, but then he huffs a quiet laugh. “Seriously, Sammy? You wanna go with that?”
Instead of an answer he states, “In elementary school a girl gave me one of her tiny dolls as a birthday gift … and I kept it way longer than I'm proud of. Years, to be exact.”
Now Dean can't hold back his loud chuckle. “That's … good to know, I guess.”
Sam smiles, pleased to see that Dean's composure is easing. He even manages to look into Sam's eyes for a few seconds.
“Um … more than once I dropped food meant for you on the floor and simply put it back on your plate,” Dean confesses eventually.
Sam is more than certain that this isn't the big secret Dean is so anxious about, but it's definitely a start.
“In college I used to be part of the glee club. And I loved it!”
“I once put salt in Dad's cereals because he pissed me of. Told him afterwards I mistook it for sugar.”
“Bobby caught me jerking off once. I couldn't watch him in the eyes for a month.”
“He caught me jerking off too!” Dean's laugh rumbles. “Oh God, poor guy.”
“I like watching flowers.”
“I took Cas to a brothel once.”
Sam frowns. “Really, Dean? An angel of the –?” He snorts. “Why am I even surprised?”
“Hey, we thought it was gonna be his last night, so why not have a little fun?”
Sam shakes his head exasperated. “You're impossible sometimes, jerk,” he says before ignoring the issue completely and getting back on track, "One of the girls in high school I 'dated' insisted on braiding my hair any chance she got. I don't know why she was that obsessed with it, but she was hot so I let it slide.”
“A chick I hooked up with insisted that her teddy bear should watch us doing it. And it felt a little creepy, to be honest.”
“I wrote Star Wars fanfiction once.”
“A girl made me wear her panties. And … well, I kinda liked it.”
Sam is about to comment on that one, but he holds himself back. This confession is huge in Dean's book and Sam doesn't want to shake his confidence again. So he tries to look like this is not a big deal.
“I dream about Mom sometimes. Most of the time stupid stuff like her being a part of the Brady Family or something like that. But I'm always too afraid to tell you because you'll always get that sad expression when we talk about her.”
“I dream about our life sometimes. How it was before all went to shit. It's funny how much I remember. Or maybe I remember it wrong and make all the stuff up but still ...”
“I miss Dad. I mean he wasn't the father of the year, but when all that stuff happened and we didn't know what to do I'd have liked to have him by our side.”
“I'm bisexual. At least I think that's the term.”
And there it is!
The big secret Dean was so nervous about.
And well … Sam didn't expect that!
At all!
Sam is aware he looks like a fish with his mouth wide open, but he can't help himself. Because of all the things he thought Dean could have confessed this wasn't even in the Top Hundred. Hell, Top Thousand.
And this is fucking huge and Sam has no idea how he didn't notice that. They lived in close quarters for all their life and he caught Dean with more girls than he can count because his fucking brother has no decency whatsoever.
Well, at least Sam thought so until now.
Maybe Dean was way better with hiding the people he hooked up with than Sam anticipated. Or maybe there weren't that many guys to begin with. Being bisexual doesn't particularly mean you split your attraction fifty-fifty.
But still … how the hell could he have missed that?
“When … when did you know?” Sam finally asks a question.
Dean just shrugs. “I was eighteen when I first hooked up with a guy. But I knew before that. Sixteen maybe.” He looks Sam straight in the eyes. “And I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was very confused at the time and ...”
“It's okay, Dean,” Sam interrupts. “I understand that.”
“And then Dad caught me with a guy when I was nineteen and after that … well, I didn't really want to talk about it with you or anybody else.”
Sam gapes. “Wait, Dad knew?”
“Yeah, well ...” Dean snorts. “It was hard to miss.”
And Sam can clearly see that this incident freaked Dean out a big deal and obviously still does. “Dean ...”
“It's fine, Sammy.” Dean sighs. “He didn't give me that much of a hard time. I mean, he was mad we did it on his bed – and in hindsight, that really wasn't the wisest move –, but he wasn't exactly upset about … well, about that.”
“He wasn't?”
“What? You think he was a homophobic jackass?”
To tell the truth Sam doesn't know what their father thought about homosexuality and the whole spectrum in general. Him being an ex-Marine Sam imagined it wouldn't be his favorite topic, but maybe that's an unfair assumption.
“So he was … okay with it?” Sam asks cautiously.
Dean snorts. “Let's just say he wasn't freaking happy about it, but he wasn't upset either. He had more important things to worry about at the time and since I wouldn't settle down anytime soon and get myself a boyfriend, it didn't matter anyway.”
“It did,” Sam counters. “It does.”
There is something like gratitude on Dean's features. “And like I said, I'm sorry for not telling you. But the whole thing with Dad messed me up for quite a while and most of the time I still felt attracted to women so I tried to make no big deal out of it. Until ...”
“Until …?”
“There was this guy, David,” Dean says. “I liked him and I thought … there could be something more, you know?” There is a hint of a fond smile on his lips. “So I wanted to tell you. Come clean, come out or whatever the hell you wanna fucking name it. I had a speech prepared and everything.”
“And what happened?”
Dean lets out a harried laugh. “Um … you left for Stanford before I could tell you.”
Sam feels his stomach drop. “Shit!” he hisses. Suddenly he hates his younger self for being that inconsiderate. “I'm so sorry, Dean.”
“Don't apologize for that, man.” Dean shakes his head. “It was just bad timing, that's all.”
It was more than that and Dean knows it, but Sam keeps silent since Dean clearly doesn't want to poke at old wounds.
“But I'm really glad you told me now,” Sam says instead, smiling slightly. “I'd like to say that I'm really proud of you, but I'm actually concerned you'd punch me in the face for that.”
Dean chuckles. “No, it's okay. You can say it.”
Sam smirks. “I'm honestly proud of you!”
It's obvious that Dean didn't doubt for a second his brother would react that way. But it's also more than clear that their talk isn't over yet.
“So how come you told me now?” Sam asks. “Just because you felt like it or is there a reason like before … with this David ...”
And all of a sudden Sam just knows.
Why it's so important for his brother to get this off his chest after over twenty years.
“Because it matters now,” Dean answers. “More than anytime before.”
“Cas,” Sam whispers.
And he wonders how he could have been that blind.
Sure, there had always been something special between Castiel and Dean, their 'profound bond' and all, but Sam never really thought … well, that. Castiel is an angel, not accustomed to human mannerisms and so he stays way too close to people and stares at them way too intently.
But now, considering, it has been Dean most of the time.
And Sam remembers vaguely how Dean complained in the beginning about Castiel's lack of personal space and and his tendency to “watch inside your fucking soul for hours, man!” He had been uncomfortable in the angel's presence, apparently not entirely sure what to do with the guy.
But somewhere along the way the bitching stopped. Dean eased up and they became closer and closer. Suddenly it was Dean who invaded Castiel's space. Dean who stared right back at the angel for eternities, so it seemed. Dean who touched him casually, called him, got a fucking depression after he thought he lost Castiel for good and …
And how the hell could he have been so blind?
“Does Cas know?” Sam asks and he can't help that his voice sounds excited.
“Um … yes.” There is a blush on his brother's cheeks and it's the best freaking thing in the world. “Nothing majorly happened yet. Just some talking … and, well, other stuff ...”
“Other stuff?” Sam smirks.
Dean snorts. “Keep your mind out of the gutter, man. I'm not that easy.”
“Yes, you are, Dean!”
“Yeah, well … it's gonna be different with him, okay?” he clarifies. “And like I said, nothing happened.” But the big grin on Dean's face tells otherwise. “There was no time anyway. Claire interrupted us with that phone call. I always thought that when someone would cockblock us, it'd be you.”
Sam laughs. “There's always time for that.” He leans forward. “So, when Cas comes back …?”
Dean lifts an eyebrow. “You really wanna know?”
“Will there be a freaky teddy bear involved?” Sam asks smugly. “And should I tell Cas to buy you some panties?”
Dean's eyes widen. “Bitch!”
Sam grins. It should be weird, all of this, seeing his brother, the ladies-man, confessing something like this and maybe it is. But Dean and Castiel – they make sense. And that's really a good thing.
His brother deserves all the happiness in the world after all the shit he went through. No matter where it comes from.
“I'm happy for you, you know?”
Dean pulls a face. “You know what? Moment's over! No more talking about feelings and how proud you are or fucking teddy bears.” He folds his arms. “I'm gonna watch some Die Hard before I grow lady-parts, okay?”
Sam cocks his head. “Really, Dean? You think watching a sweaty guy in a tank top running around for two hours will make this better?”
Dean gapes at him, obviously speechless for the first ten seconds, before he finally hisses, “I hate you so much!”