Chapter Text
The table was uncomfortably silent. Sam stared at his meal and ate, while Dean was glancing up at Castiel with worry every few seconds. As usual, Castiel poked and prodded at his meal, unable to eat. He could see Dean and Sam exchange worried glances out of the corner of his eye, and, for their sake alone, somewhat aggressively attempted at taking a bite. He pushed his food into a pile, shoved his fork under the heap, and lifted the food off the plate. He frowned at the small pile of food on his fork while he stared at it for a few moments. That action on its’ own seemed distasteful to him. He felt as if his entire being was against taking even the tiniest of bites. He felt every inch of him trying to fight off eating that small chunk.
Still, the fallen angel lifted the fork to his mouth and took a small bite, chewed and swallowed. The food was tasteless to him, disgusting. There. He thought. I ate. He felt a very bitter sense of pride at the action and left the table, deciding that he should award himself with rest.
After all, it was more than he’d usually eat.
The two brothers were left at the table, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. Sam looked over at Dean, saw his jaw clench and unclench - A telltale sign that Dean was worried and angry that he didn’t know what to do about it. Sam wanted to say something. He knew his stubborn brother would shoot him down the moment he mentioned feelings, but it felt wrong to just leave it alone. He shifted uncomfortably in the way he usually did before trying to bring up some sort of emotional issue with his brother.
“Dean-“ Sam barely finished that word when Dean forcefully threw his fork and knife of the plate without even looking at his brother, making sure they made a clanging noise loud enough to interrupt him. He aggressively stood up from his chair, grabbed his plate and Castiels’, and dropped them heavily in the sink, making those clang together too, before stomping off, his fists clenched. Sam looked down at his plate, sighing as he did so. Sometimes he didn’t know why he tried to talk to his brother. He was so stubborn. He knew he’d just get shot down every time. Still, Sam didn’t seem to learn his lesson, and he would try to talk anyway. He shook his head hopelessly (at himself, Dean, or Castiel, hew wasn’t sure) before quietly finishing his meal.