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Driving Cas’s Lincoln instead of the Impala should feel strange, but it doesn’t. He didn’t have to fight to drive for one. There’s actually leg room for a change since he can adjust the seat as much as he likes. He’s allowed to pick the radio station instead of resorting to earbuds and a podcast turned up too high to drown out yet another guitar riff he’s heard a thousand times. And most importantly...
He can breathe easily for the first time in... hours. Days, maybe. Hard to tell.
Sam exhales in relief more loudly than he means to, and from the corner of his eye, Cas unabashedly looks him over, brow furrowed. “Something is still bothering you. Is there something you have purposely not told me?”
The niceties of human culture continue to elude his friend, but what may have irritated Sam in the past has only become endearing over time. Even when he’s become the Shatner among nerds, he remains good ol’ Cas. Dean’s fears (or rather, accusations) of any untoward behavior are entirely unfounded, regardless of Cas’s past misdeeds.
Dean. Unbidden, Sam sighs again.
“No,” Sam lies, so transparently that even the oblivious Cas must catch on. “I mean, weren’t we talking about you?”
“Yes,” Cas agrees. “It was making me uncomfortable. That’s why I’m changing the subject. Well, that and your obvious distress.”
That’s Cas—subtle as a hammer to the face. Sam scowls. “I’m not distressed—”
“I understand,” Cas interrupts blithely. “Historically, you and Dean have not reacted positively to the other’s radical personality shifts.”
“It’s not that radical!” Sam argues. “There are just some things he’s done...”
He trails off. Things; there’s the understatement of the century. Just thinking about it turns his brain to static. His neck and cheeks heat up, and Sam prays that the dark conceals his rising blush. Or, at the very least, the ignorant angel misinterprets what he sees.
“What things?” Cas asks sharply. “Has he attacked you?”
“What? No!” Sam says. Cas relaxes beside him. “Nothing like that. Like I said, he’s been on edge. And when he killed Abaddon... man, it’s hard to explain. He went kind of overboard.”
“Overboard?”
“He made sure she was dead... and then some.”
Castiel nods despite Sam’s vagueness. “That must have been disturbing.”
“It wasn’t exactly reassuring,” Sam confesses. “But I talked him down and got him to leave the Blade behind for this trip, so that’s something. Right?”
Sam feels Cas’s squint more than sees it. Unlike his brother, he’s not as practiced at the art of driving without looking at the road. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Cas, come on...”
“Sam, this is serious. We need to keep track of any changes in Dean, no matter how small,” Cas argues. “Considering your reaction, I can only assume that the situation is quite dire.”
“No, it’s not...” Sam’s face feels like it’s on fire. “Look, it’s embarrassing, alright?”
“Embarrassing?” Cas echoes. “Has there been some physical change in your brother? Like...” His voice drops conspiratorially low. “A rash?”
Sam’s not sure if Cas needs to spend less time with humanity or more. Either way, the results are mortifying. “Dude, no, he doesn’t have a rash! And neither do I,” he adds hastily. “It’s nothing like that. He’s just been...”
He hesitates. “Just been...?” Cas presses.
Sam swallows. “Aggressive.”
“Aggressive how? You said he hasn’t been violent towards you.”
“He hasn’t exactly. I mean aggressive, um,” Sam winces, “sexually?”
“You don’t have to have it with you all the time, right? I mean, just leave it. Please.”
“You begging me?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
The silence is damning. Sam should have kept his damn mouth shut. But he’s running on two hours of sleep and having a crazy person for a brother, so perhaps he can be forgiven for a slip-up in judgment or two. This certainly won’t be his last one.
Nervously drumming his fingers along the wheel, he risks a glance at Cas. Cas’s brow is furrowed, and he looks, thankfully, not at Sam, but at the dash, as though the glove compartment held the secrets of the tangled knot of the entire spectrum of human emotion. Sam suspects the box is empty.
“This is unusual?” Cas asks finally.
Sam chokes on the indignity of it. “Unusual...? Of course it’s unusual, Cas! He’s my brother!”
“Dean, come on, quit messing around.”
“Who’s messing around? I just wanna know if you’re begging me or not.”
“I’m not... What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Apologies,” Cas says, though he sounds more confused than apologetic. “Of course, the taboo nature of your relationship would make the situation even more discomforting if he is, as you say, approaching you aggressively.”
“Discomforting?” Sam blurts. It’s like a cavern has cracked open in his throat. All he can do is echo, echo, echo. “Approaching me? Cas, we’re brothers. We don’t have a relationship! I’m trying to—”
He cuts himself off before the words can finish escaping. I’m trying to keep things professional, isn’t the strongest denial in the world. The implications are just... all wrong. “It’s not like that. That’s why it’s freaking me out, okay? Dean’s not... Dean’s not like that. Jeez.”
I’m not like that either, goes unsaid, but maybe it shouldn’t. Clearly, Cas has been talking to the wrong people (or angels) since he started his rebel alliance. Where else would he be getting these ideas from?
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Cas says. “I had assumed... Never mind. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Dean, stop.”
“See, your mouth says no, but you haven’t moved my hand.”
“We’re not kids anymore. I’m not playing this game with you.”
“So you don’t mind if I go higher.”
“Of course I mind.”
“Then stop me.”
“Obviously,” Sam snaps. “Why would you even... Come on, Cas!”
“I’ve angered you,” Cas surmises quietly, and like that, Sam’s irritation vanishes with a snap. It’s Cas. The guy gets funny ideas sometimes—he can’t help it. It’s easy to forget that despite his age, he has only been on Earth for five years. He’s allowed the occasional faux pas. Besides, as far as screw ups go, it’s pretty minor compared to some of the other stuff he’s pulled.
Even so. “No, it’s okay. It’s just that’s not something you can just go around accusing people of, man,” Sam explains. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
“I see,” Cas says, and Sam prays that’s the end of it... But of course, he’s not that lucky. “Historically, however, the severity and parameters of the taboo have fluctuated wildly, and the greatest danger it presents, the threat of genetic defects in resulting offspring, is non-existent between two brothers—”
“Okay, we’re done talking about this,” Sam interjects. “It was just a one-time thing anyway. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Because it was a one-time thing. The glances, the innuendos, the brief touches (the keyword being brief)—those were nothing. Just Dean being Dean. Besides, those started before the Mark. They didn’t mean anything. They never have.
“I—”
“He doth protest way too much. Alright, I’ll make it easy for you. Say it again and I’ll stop.”
“S-say what?”
“You know what.”
“I don’t... Dean...”
“Please. Say it again, and I’ll stop.”
“I... ah...”
“Unless you don’t want me to stop. I’m barely touching you right now, but it feels good, right? I could be—”
“Please.”
“...No problem.”
“Thank you.”
“I understand,” says Cas. The course of this conversation has Sam seriously doubting that. “I’ve been ignorant and rude. Please forgive me.”
“It’s forgotten,” Sam replies briskly. “Forget it. ...Seriously forget it.”
“If that’s what you want,” Cas agrees. “But Sam, I haven’t even asked. Are you okay?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? Ostensibly, he’s doing fine: he’s focused on the task at hand, has a friend by his side, and all his limbs are attached. He’s certainly been in worse situations.
Yet.
He can still feel every place Dean put a hand on him. It should be strange and distant, like a half-remembered dream (and considering how he practically sleep-walked out of the bunker earlier today, it would make all the sense in the world), but he can recall it perfectly, as if Dean only just pulled away. He’s haunted, but instead of cold, Sam’s assailed by heat, blood boiling and heart racing, on the verge of spontaneous combustion, and he can only think, What if I hadn’t said...?
“I’m fine, Cas,” Sam says, because saying anything else is unthinkable. “Let’s find this rogue angel’s trail, huh?”
Cas doesn’t say anything, so he must believe him. At least one of them does.