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At first, Kevin thought it was the pills.
He was taking a lot of them, after all, and they did fill his world with a pleased, relaxed haze. He figured he should pace them better (Dean’s warning echoing in his ears), eat them with meals as instructed, the whole schtick.
The problem, however, persisted. He was getting tired of the random, sudden queasiness in his stomach, of the heat in his cheeks. He was getting tired of not understanding while all of these made him smile, of all things. They weren’t exactly pleasant, but then again the symptoms came with a glow that kept him grinning for a while.
It definitely had to be the pills, he concluded one afternoon he’d spent daydreaming about his life post-prophet, wondering if he’d be allowed to stay in touch with the Winchesters, Sam most of all.
He ditched them entirely the next day.
Only to have the same symptoms return, stronger than ever. This time Sam and Dean were visiting, and Sam gave him a small smile as he handed him a CD case (while Dean grumbled about the state of the boat’s mini kitchen, making them lunch).
“You used to play, didn’t you?” He said, and when Kevin opened it he found a compilation of cello pieces, arrangement by one of his favorite maestros. The entirely physical reaction he had to that, the fluttery stomach, the heart leap, the sudden heat on his face, told him that no, no, it was definitely not the pills.
“Take some time off when you listen to it,” he’d added with a smile, his hand finding Kevin’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze (okay, that stomach thing was becoming a problem, he almost squeaked as they seemed to triple in numbers). “Real time off. You deserve it.”
The heat in his cheeks had intensified, and he briefly thought of mentioning that he was sick, that he was running a fever, that he might pass out because his heart was doing crazy things. It was just so rare lately for him to hear this kind of supportive statement — his mother spent most of her time crying, afraid and worried and fretting over his well being. Garth was Garth, offering useless anecdotes, awkwardly trying to cheer him on but overdoing it a tad.
But Sam, Sam had really set him straight. He’d begun taking daily showers, eating better, and he felt better too. Suddenly reading the tablet came easier, and he had Sam to thank for that. Heeding his advice had been the best thing he’d done in months. Sam’s encouragements, thrown into the phone whenever he called them, or whenever they checked up on him, only made him want to keep going.
When he looked up from the cover of the CD in his hands, he croaked a shaky thank you, his voice cracking (talk about embararssing).
There was a hearty chuckle from the burners of the kitchen, snapping his attention from Sam.
“You okay over there Kev?” Dean teased, eyebrows raised as he flipped over a steak, that playful grin exposed.
“U-Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, a glance at Sam telling him that nope, no, doing that was a bad idea, looks away before you actually start throwing up butterflies — until Dean spoke again and his world crumbled a little.
“You sound like you got a little crush on my brother, dude. S’not the first time he’s got you stammering.”
Oh, shit. Fuck.
He totally did, didn’t he? And Dean had put it out in the open like that, with Sam right there, and what was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? Advanced Placement had not prepared him for any of this, not for the prophet thing and definitely not for the crushing on some older guy thing. It wasn’t his fault that Sam cared, when he felt like no one else really did. It wasn’t his fault Sam’s hand on his shoulder made him feel…nice and warm and safe, okay?!
Dean’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, as he stood feeling like the air had been sucked right out of the cabin.
“Woah, guys, relax. Neither of you can take a joke, I swear,” he grumbled as he returned to his cooking, shaking his head.
The terrified, deer in the headlights look Kevin threw Sam only showed him what he feared: Sam had known before he had it figured out himself.
And by the small smile he gave him, he didn’t seem to mind.