So, I hadn't written some Destiel in a while and rewatching some Season Ten scenes, this little story got written. Set post-Season 10, and post reverse-crypt scene.
Dean tells him in the Impala, staring straight ahead through the windshield, the way he's told Sam too many things over the years. The way they learnt to say things as kids, eyes on the road, so the words could be pushed away between them.
"I tried to kill him" Dean says and it's the worst thing Sam's ever heard his brother say. "I nearly killed him." Dean doesn't look at him once, but his fingers tap on the wheel and he turns to stare out of the opposite window for too long a moment, and Sam looks away, following the dance they've rehearsed and played out so many times before.
"But you didn't" he says, when Dean can look at the road without blinking again. "Dean, you stopped."
Dean shakes his head. "Yeah" and he laughs, a sound that makes the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand up. "Yeah, Sammy, I stopped."
Sam swallows because they've been here before too, with this laugh and this look and this-"Dean, he knows-"
"Knows what, Sammy?" Dean's voice cracks halfway through. "Knows that I nearly killed him? Knows that I-that I didn't-that I told him-" He shakes his head and stares out of the other window. "Goddamn it" he says softly. "We don't even need to talk about this."
"Dean-" And Sam reaches out for his brother's arm and Dean jerks away from him.
"No, Sammy-" He shakes his head. "We don't-" Dean stares straight ahead for a moment and then slams his hand into the horn.
Sam jumps so hard that the seatbelt cuts into his throat. "What the hell?"
Dean slams his hand against the window. "It's-it's freaking Cas, Sammy" he barks, and his eyes are too bright, his knuckles white on the wheel. "It's freaking Cas, and I-" He breaks off, turns his face away. "Freaking stupid" he mutters, and Sam stares at his brother, takes in the way he's blinking, the way he's gripping that wheel so hard it has to hurt and then he swallows and says "Dean."
Dean shakes his head and looks away. Sam stares at him, taking in his brother quietly, Cas's name between them, the way Dean's jaw is clenched tight, that tension that's been there since Sam was too small to know what tension meant. Back then, he just knew that it was the worst thing in the world because it meant that somewhere inside, his big brother was breaking apart.
Sam watches him and thinks Cas will know. Because of course, Cas will know. The same way Dean knew when it was Cas who was out of action. The same way Dean knew when it was Cas who was having Naomi at the controls. The same way the two of them know each other.
Dean's teeth are digging into his lip as he stares out of the window and Sam feels the thought catch in his brain, hang there for a moment and then settle down, into something that he knows, without even asking, is true. Dean is in love with Cas.
Sam waits for the jolt of shock in his chest, for the stab of What?!-and feels nothing. Just-yeah, that makes sense.
And then he knows he's known for a while and the words just haven't been there, haven't been thought in his mind because once you think something, let yourself know it's there, it's real. And now that he's made it real, let himself think it, try out the words-Dean is in love with Cas. Huh. OK.-there's not much difference.
But then he's watching his brother in the dark and thinking of Cas's voice, raw with the name "Dean!" in that diner and Dean's hands on Cas's shoulders in April's apartment, his name dissolving in his throat-"Cas-" and Dean's eyes now, the way he's keeping them fixed straight ahead, knuckles white, jaw gritted. Classically Dean.
And his own voice in the bunker, staring at his brother like he's just asked why he should go and get some pie. Because...it's Cas.
And Sam knows then, it's been real for ages, years maybe, and he's known it, known it maybe even before Dean did. (Because Dean knows. Oh, Dean won't say it or ask it or even let himself think it, but he knows.)
But Sam knows it's there then, in the car between them, knows in the way only he can know these things about Dean. Knows because, at the end of the day, maybe he knows his brother too well.
And his mouth opens and he says "You know, you need to tell him one day."
Dean blinks. "What?" He turns to stare at Sam and anyone else would think that Dean was barely listening, but this is Sam. This is Sam and he can see the widening of Dean's eyes, that nervous flicker of his tongue at his lips. And he knows that Dean knows.
"Cas." Sam lets the words drop in the air between them, his own mouth dry. "You need to tell Cas. About-" He lets his voice trail off and he raises an eyebrow at Dean, trying to hand his brother the rest of the sentence. It's there, Dean. Come on.
"About what?" Dean practically spits the words, his eyebrows arched, but he's clutching the wheels so tightly, Sam's concerned for his knuckles.
Sam tilts his head. "Dean, come on."
"No, Sammy, about what?" Sam watches the movement of Dean's throat as he swallows, the way his fingers clench tighter on the wheel. "Because-" Dean bites his lip and cuts off the rest of the sentence. Sam waits, fingers digging into the seat cushion, hoping, just for a moment-
And then Dean looks away and Sam knows he isn't going to say it. Not tonight. They both know it but it's not there, not out loud between them.
"OK" he says, and he leans back in his seat, talking to himself as much as his brother. "OK." Because he knows Dean and he knows they can't talk about it, not now. Not yet.
Dean shakes his head and stares out at the road. "Sammy-" The word hangs there, and Sam waits, skin prickling with hope. He watches as Dean tries, swallows the words down again, glances at Sam, then away. Then, "Nothing. Doesn't matter."
Sam waits for him to say one more thing, wants him to say one more thing. No, Dean. It-just tell-it doesn't change-Dean-you and-Cas-it-it's not just you-Dean-
But Dean just shakes his head and clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes on the road, and Sam knows that one more thing isn't going to be said. Not tonight.
So he leans back in the seat and pretends to let his eyes fall closed because he knows that this is what Dean needs right now. That his brother's going to stare out at the road for hours until he's convinced himself in the dark that Sam didn't mean what they both know he meant. That they're not going to talk about this tomorrow. That these words are going to be left behind them, lost in the night, left behind for the road stretching out ahead.
Sam's hoping for a different ending. But then again, maybe he knows his brother too well.
Dean, stop running from the issue. Leave a review if you liked it. :)