Strange things are afoot.
Sometimes Dean tells him he’s gonna put a load in the washer and then when Sam goes down to check on it… it’s empty.
Sometimes Dean tells him that he’s going for a drive, in Baby, and yet, the GPS says she hasn’t left the garage.
Other times Dean tells him he’s going to visit Donna for a few days but a few months later when they meet up, she tells Dean she hasn’t seen him in almost a year.
The most popular excuse is going out to get laid. Sure, it’s a normal Dean thing. But is it normal that Dean doesn’t do it when Sam is there? Is it normal that when he does ‘head out lookin’ for a hot babe’ that he checks in to a hotel in Lebanon under the name Dean Campbell and doesn’t move for the next few hours?
Initially, Sam had thought Dean was just pissed at him for something or the other. Then he realised. Dean’s actually with someone. Has been for the past year almost and hasn’t deemed Sam fit to bear such knowledge. Initially, he was jealous and a bit left out.
That was initially.
Now staring at Dean he knows his brother is somehow happy. That somehow, Dean had made his own version of normal and was finally being selfish enough to indulge himself.
His big brother. The one who placed anything and everything above his own life. He looked at peace.
A big red snow-cone in his hands and shit-eating grin on his face.
“You want some kale with that sugar?” he jokes.
Dean flips him off in mock anger sticking his tongue out. His purple tongue.
Sam feels his grin. If that isn’t evidence, he doesn’t know what is.
Deciding that someone actually needs to wash the clothes in this place, he heads down. Except some is already there.
He’d been around a bit more lately. Not enough to completely sooth their nerves, but enough to not be in a state of constant worry.
“Sam.” He calls, nervously. Hiding something behind his back.
Curious, Sam cocks his head. A blood-stained shirt wasn’t frowned upon in this household.
“Whatcha got there Cass?” he asks, edging closer, genuinely intrigued.
“Nothing.” He says, too quickly, “Just a stain from lunch.”
“Let me take a look then.”
“No!” yells Cass, surprising him by trying to stuff the shirt down his pants.
Spritely as he is, Sam springs forward and snatches the shirt from a shocked Cass. Inspecting it, he finds, no blood, nothing except a blue stain around the collar. Perplexed, he hands it back with a frown, tucking his hair behind his ears to avoid Cass’ glare.
“Um, I’ll leave you to it then.” He mutters, slowly backing out of the room.
As soon as he’s clear, he sprints back to the library, combing through the lore for anything that bleeds that shade of blue. After hours of fruitless searching, he decides to call it a night and continue in the morning. He pops his head into Dean’s room, shooting him a quick goodnight before heading to his own room.
Sleep though, eludes him for hours to come.
Why would Cass hide a blue stain? No monster that bleeds blue is so dangerous that the angel would want to keep them away.
His mind slowly drifts back to Dean and his happiness. He’d never seen him eat a snow-cone before, even when Sam had begged… even when Cass had begged a few weeks ago while they were working a case at a carnival.
Sam bolts upright. Neurons firing rapidly as his mind follows the trail that was practically laid out for him.
How could he be so stupid.
Blue snow-cone. Everyone knew the angled loves blue.
He shoves off the covers scrambling out of bed. Angels don’t usually eat so he’d seen though Cass’ fib instantly, but more importantly now, did angels brush their teeth?
He bangs at Cass’ door before the angel rips it open, almost causing Sam to punch him in the face.
“Stick your tongue out.” He demands.
Cass’ face twists in confusion and Sam can feel his eyes taking him apart; searching for any signs of insanity.
But he sticks his tongue out anyway.
Sam almost exploded in glee.
Red plus blue makes…
It’s purple, just like Dean’s. He should sing it from the roof tops.
“You kissed Dean didn’t you?” he asks.
“No.” murmurs the angel, tilting his head to appraise Sam.
Sam’s mood falls. His shoulders instantly drooping. He was so sure. He would have bet his life on it. He’d already made his peace with it and realised how good they could be together.
Clearing his throat, Cass leans in a bit, and with an almost conspiratorial tone, he adds, “Actually, Dean kissed me.”