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The wheels are droning on the deserted highway. Music is playing low, and Dean is content.
Well rested and well fed, he’s sure in the feeling that Jody and the girls are fine after spending a couple days with them running down what ended up being not-a-monster after all.
Sam’s drowsing in the passenger seat, his memory foam is waiting for Dean at home, and it’s a short, relaxing drive until they can say hello and goodnight to Mary and Jack and he can sink into it and sleep the sleep of the just. Everything is as perfect as it gets in Dean’s life, and he’s just floating in calm as he drives.
“Hey, Dean?” Sam doesn’t move, but he’s tense now where he’d been slumped against the doorpost and why does Dean ever tempt fate by thinking words like ‘perfect’ and ‘content’?
“Yeah, Sammy, what’s on your mind?” He murmurs it, trying not to break whatever mood Sam sensed that let him speak up.
“De, I know you hate talking about feelings but I have to ask, okay, don’t get mad.” Sam’s fidgeting in his seat now, staring out the windshield into the night in an effort to keep from turning the puppy eyes on his brother.
Dean opens his posture as much as possible while responsibly driving, turning his torso slightly towards Sam and hitching his right elbow onto the seat back and visibly relaxing. “Hit me, little brother, get it all out.” His smile is only a little smirky.
“So, there’s no easy way to say it. I’m into somebody, like I think I have feelings for them, and I kinda wanna explore that and see if they think they’re interested too, but Dean, I think you’re interested in them and I don’t ever wanna bird-dog my own brother.” Sam deflates, his broad shoulders sinking down and in and he turns to his brother while still focusing on the road ahead. “We’ve known them a long time, De, and I think you’ve been hung up on them all along, and this feeling is really new for me. If you never intended to do anything about it, or if I’m wrong about how you feel, I’d like your blessing to go ahead.”
Sammy looks like nothing right now so much as his own pre-teen self, slouched on baby’s bench seat and silently begging his big brother for approval, guidance, connection. As if Dean could deny him anything when he’s like this.
“Tell me who it is, Sammy! I’m excited for you. Jody? Is it Jody because yeah she’s fine but we’re just friends. I think Donna’s a little too much woman for you, but if you wanna try I respect you for it Sammy, I really do!” Dean slaps his own thigh and cuts a sly look at Sam as he resumes driving 10-and-2.
Dean really can’t think of anyone else they’ve known a long time that he’s got a deep connection to, at least not that Sam would be into. Hell, there’s not many people they’ve known for anything that could be considered a long time.
And, yeah Dean’s always had a sort of sixth sense about people he’d be sexually compatible with; right when he first meets someone he just knows if they’re a match to scorch up the sheets, whether friend or foe. Not that he always (or even usually) acts on it, but Donna and Jody both lit up the big board in his head like Christmas when he first said hello.
But Dean doesn’t shit where he eats, and either of those ladies would be the real thing, way more than a one-night stand, and Dean’s nothing if not realistic about how badly he’d fuck that up. It gives their deep and abiding friendships a little frisson of excitement that he thinks is enjoyed from both sides, but nothing that would stop Sam from shooting his shot.
Dean levels a glance at Sam and he’s slumped even further, his body turned dejectedly toward the driver seat. Not the look of a happy man who’s about to get the girl. When he speaks his voice is broken and he looks like he’s anticipating a punch.
“De, it’s Cas. I...I’ve never really felt this way about a guy and I know you two have a profound bond or whatever but you’re so macho all the time and Cas is so lonely and I just wanna...”. Sam sounds like he’s going to cry and Dean’s thinking about pulling the car onto the soft shoulder to join him. A few more miles of silent reflection and he does so, at least the parking part.
“You. Like. Like. Cas?” Dean feels like all the words he’s ever known now have new, secret meanings he’s never seen before. He’s sitting rigid as a statue, gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurts. He knows Sam’s sitting more cowed than ever next to him, but he feels so conflicted he can’t soften himself even to put his brother at ease.
“Oh, god, Dean I know you don’t agree with it but I’ve always been a little bicurious and I never met anybody I really wanted to try it with before and I’ve always been so drawn to Cas and he’s clearly gone on you but you never did anything about it and we’ve gotten so close lately and I just...” Sam is probably still babbling but Dean is locked up in his own head, questioning everything. ‘Clearly gone on’ especially, but wait.
“Wait, Sammy, what don’t I agree with? Why would I be mad at you for wanting a guy?” Dean’s confused for another second until Sammy’s sad, scared face and a long mental montage of dad ‘toughening them up’ and Dean’s more ‘macho’ moments sets him on a path. “Holy shit, Sam, do you think I’m straight? And what, like, homophobic? Like, this whole time?” Dean pulls his right knee up on the seat and turns wholly toward his brother to put hands on his shoulders in his, ‘I could not be more fucking serious right now’ attitude.
“Sam, I’ve always known I was bi and I would never judge you for who you want or love, and I’m sorry I never explicitly told you and I’m sorry you felt afraid to talk to me about this. Jesus, I’m so sorry.” Not talking about feelings is one thing, but letting down this kid he mostly raised is something entirely else. Sam’s got on a big relieved grin now, so maybe they’re okay, but Dean still feels shitty that he ever made him feel like he couldn’t bring this to him.
“You’re not exactly subtle, Dean. I knew you were bi, I just didn’t think you knew you were bi. Thought you were rocking some internalized homophobia self-hate thing. And I’ve seen you with Charlie, I know you’re pro-Pride for other people. I just thought you’d eventually mention it if you got okay about it. You’re such an ass-man, and you’ve got such a thing for cops and cowboys!” Sam is giggling now, his big dumb Sasquatch body curled in delight, so Dean decides he’s okay and starts the car. Baby’s eaten quite a few miles before Sam subsides and Dean is grinning at him now, too.
“Sorry, De, I’m just so relieved. It’s good to know we can talk about this. We don’t have to...I mean, let’s just table the rest of it for a few days, okay?” He looks out the side window with a guilty cant to his posture. All is uneasy quiet for a bit.
Cas was already at Jody’s when they arrived, negotiating with Claire about college. Dean piled on while they were there, ultimately letting her know he had her back no matter what she decided, and Sam quietly offered any advice or info he was able to give.
The angel stayed behind when they left, for ‘quality time’ and to pressure his ersatz daughter about school a little more. Nobody will have to face him when they get back to the bunker, no matter what they talk or don’t talk about now; no matter what they decide.
“Cas could do a lot worse, Sammy. Has done. You’d be really good for each other, in my opinion.” Dean’s heart is breaking so loudly he’s sure Sam can hear, but he’s determined to be the bigger guy here. No matter what Sammy thinks, or says, or thinks he sees, the love of Dean’s life doesn’t love him back, or if he does it’s not the same way, or if it is it’s not good for him. Can never be good enough for Cas.
The silence lingers between them, and Dean lets it. Sam’s a good man. He’s thoughtful, and caring, and -objectively- hot. Dean knows he cares for Cas, though he hadn’t sensed this latest development.
“Dean, alls I’d have to do to beat Cas’ baseline is not stab him to death after our first time.” Sam fucking blushes when he says ‘first time’ and Dean is definitely not going to stop the car again and beat him to death. He’s not. He’s going to turn up the radio and keep driving, and get over his damn self enough to be happy for his angel.
Sam’s got enough self-preservation instinct to keep quiet for about the next hour, and the atmosphere in the car progresses from ‘on edge’ to awkward to neutral to comfortable before he says, “Dean, I don’t want you to give me your blessing as a ‘take care of Sammy’ thing. Don’t tell me it’s okay to pursue it unless you’re one-hundred percent not interested in having him for yourself, okay? He’s my best friend, aside from you, and I’ll get over my crush on him better than I’d get over busting the three of us up. Think about it and let me know when you know, and I’ll go by whatever you say.”
Dean’s probably never loved the kid more, which is saying a lot. He feels like he’s going to cry and/or throw up, but he’s grateful to have a brother like Sam. If he thought for one moment that Cas wanted him, he’d fight the kid harder and dirtier than any unholy thing they’d ever hunted, but he hasn’t got to think about that right now.
He has a few precious days to stew in his feelings before he gives Sammy the all clear and then hopefully he can ‘find a case’ and fuck off to far, far away before his brother makes his move. It’s what an asshole would do, but a weekend of booze and strippers and a few one-or-two-night stands should grind him raw enough to be happy for them when he gets back, and that’s all he wants. All he’s entitled to want.
They stop to top off baby’s tank about a half hour out from the bunker, and when Dean comes back from taking a whizz he pops the keys over the hood to Sam and crawls into the back seat to doze. His brain’s still whirring but he’s just letting it churn. He doesn’t have to come to a conclusion any time soon, and he’s big-tired from all this emoting.
——//////——
The crunch and pop of gravel under the wheels brings him up to half-aware just before Sam slows the car and whispers, “Dean!”
They’re on the drive in front of the bunker, way the hell off the nearest paved road, and just before they would turn off to the hidden garage entrance, there’s a car parked unobtrusively in the pre-dawn gloom. Dean’s hackles raise instantly and he’s armed himself by the time Sam slews them to a stop blocking the lane. They’ve warily eased themselves out of baby and are triangulating on the mystery car when the dome light comes on, resolving it into Claire’s POS with Cas in the driver seat.
The window is cranked down and Cas does his grave nod thing and says, “Hello Dean; Sam. Claire changed her mind about an hour after you left and decided there is no harm in applying and seeing what happens. She would like to talk to Sam about his college experience and work on documents to forestall questions about her background. She is asleep now but I worried when we beat you back here, so I elected to await your arrival.”
Sam’s smile is open and genuine as he pops the door and pulls Cas out directly into a bear hug. Dean’s heart swells and aches. The embrace lingers as they exchange a few gruff, whispered phrases and Dean pretends to be anywhere but here. Jack and Mary appear from the direction of the bunker’s main door in time to segue into hugging Cas and Sam in turn as they break apart, then Dean as they secure keys to the cars and set about moving them to the garage. In a whirl of activity, Sam disappears with them and Dean is left avoiding Cas’ glances as they walk toward the entrance.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas gravels out again. “I’m happy to see you, despite our having seen each other several hours ago. Did you stop for pie?” Cas’ eyes twinkle in the growing light. “Claire and I drove straight through as she seemed anxious to get here. As much as I enjoy spending time with the girls at Jody’s, I must admit I was beginning to feel homesick, and the feeling only intensified as you and Sam left.”
He stops at the few stairs to the bunker doors and turns to face Dean, puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders and and stares so deeply into his eyes he feels flayed. “I missed you, Dean. Arriving at the bunker didn’t feel like a homecoming until you were here.” He briefly clasps Dean’s face between his palms and Dean is falling, floating jerkily to a seat on the steps, staring gobsmacked at Cas’ amused face as he lowers himself to sit by Dean, thigh-to thigh though the steps are wide.
“Claire seemed agitated on the drive. I interrogated her gently and she revealed that her issue is that she ‘has a friend’ who ‘has a problem.’” Cas did the finger quotes with a smirk, long gone an inside joke between them, and Dean suppresses a snorting laugh.
“It appears that Claire’s ‘friend’ is distressed because this person ‘has a thing’ for Dean Winchester.” Cas’ shoulders draw up around his neck as he apes an astonished gasp, his hand clutching at invisible pearls. Dean’s chuckle slides into a near sob as his heart throbs around his easy, enormous affection for his friend.
“Dean, I have read parenting books and blogs. I wish to be an adequate parental-adjacent figure to Claire. My understanding was that when a child comes to you with a story about ‘a friend’ they are most likely asking for advice about themselves from a safe remove.”
He shrugs again and slumps back until his elbows prop on the stair behind his hips. “I gently told her that ‘her friend’ was very much younger than you, and that you probably viewed her more as a surrogate daughter than a possible conquest.
She laughed in my face and told me ‘her friend’ wasn’t her, but was indeed another person we know who was very close in age to you and who she was sure you were interested in as well. She asked me if I would mind if this person attempted to pursue you, as you and I are apparently ‘clearly gone on each other’ but have never ‘sacked up and done anything about it.’ Cas’ face is soft and pleased around a secretive smile. His right hand alights on Dean’s left shoulder where it belongs, and it’s like completing a circuit that lights them both up.
“Son of a bitch! Those conniving little bitches!” Dean’s grinning harder than he’s grinned, possibly ever in his life, when he turns fully to Cas and slides his palms over his khaki’d kneecaps.
“Continued, somewhat less gentle interrogation about our mutual acquaintances revealed holes in Claire’s story that confused and troubled me. She eventually revealed that she and Sam had ‘cooked up’ a plan to force us to reveal what they were sure were our mutual feelings to each other.”
Cas’s free hand is in Dean’s hair now, behind his ear, scritching and teasing, and his eyes are so questioning that Dean has to lean into his gravity well, fall past the event horizon of kissing him.
Well aware that this is a first kiss, his last first kiss, Dean pulls up gentle and busses him lovingly about the lips and chin and cheeks and nose. “Sam had me damn well convinced he was falling in love with you and asking my blessing to give it a go,” he breathes, his lips somehow alongside Cas’ ear and on their way to burying themselves in his disheveled curls. “I was ready to crawl into a hole and die thinking how you could never love me back and I should let him try to make you happy.”
Cas’ arms are up under Dean’s now, around his back and waist and just touching, smoothing, pulling until they’re closer than they’ve ever been, which is saying something. “I forgot to hug you hello,” he wonders against Dean’s neck, “hello, Dean.”
Their legs are interleaved and they’ve got their arms around each other, noses brushed together and eyes locked. They’re nearly lying down the length of the short staircase and Dean’s thinking ‘memory foam who, I don’t know her’ ‘cause he never wants to be anywhere else again.
“Claire is not as good an actor or a liar as Sam, but I was fairly anguished about her ‘friend’ as well. I was very confused about the way I wished you to find happiness with this person who I also wanted to find and smite. Luckily they don’t exist and I DO love you back, so nobody has to die in any holes.” Cas is smearing kisses up Dean’s jaw and smooching away the tears that are (manfully) leaking steadily from beneath his eyelashes.
He doesn’t know how long they lounge there, cuddling or spooning or something, trading lazy kisses and strangled laughter and damning Sammy and Claire with garbled, backhanded praise, but the sun is well up when Mary opens the door above their heads. She does a decent Bobby impression but her mirth is too high to sell it well when she grates out, “Get inside, ya idjits, before you scare the wildlife!” She slams the door to, and they aren’t far behind her when she clatters down into the war room.