Disclaimer: So I don't own the characters, just my own little drabbles and more Russian language learning materials than most people ever see.
Just a random drabble, set sometime in season five. I was thinking over Russian swears and the differences between their connotations and actual meanings, and well, this was the result.
Happy Reading!
His freshman year at Stanford, Sam was all about normal. Normal included living in the dorms with roommates, and one of his was a Russian from Vladivostok who wanted to be a typical American and acted like one, except for when he swore. To this day, the only Russian Sam can assuredly understand is Русский мат, or Russian curse words.
So when Castiel, who is unusually angry with Dean (although the anger is warranted), unaccustomedly swears, Sam knows exactly what he says and what it means. He just can't believe this Angel of the Lord has said it.
It being "Иди на хуй!"
Although he knows better, in some more rational part of his brain, that the swear isn't literal, the part of his brain currently functioning isn't thinking that way and the first thing to pop out of his mouth is, "Dean isn't gay!"
"Damn it, Cas," Dean swears, "I'd thought we'd agreed to keep this on the down low."
"Wait, what?" Sam's eyes go as wide as physically possible.
"Sam, your brother and I have been engaging in carnal relations. And Dean, I apologize. Had I known Sam understood Russian, I would have chosen another swear. However, I would not have expected him to take it so literally," Cas tilts his head, "It is typically simply understood in a similar manner to 'fuck off.'"
Sam's mind is blown. He barely registers when Dean asks for a translation of what Castiel had said, the answer being 'Go to the dick,' or even more literally, 'go on the dick.'
"So you two are in a relationship?" He asks after a few minutes spent rebooting his brain.
Dean rubs the back of his neck, "yeah."
"Since when?"
"When you and I went our separate ways for a while," Dean admits softly.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Now all Sam feels is hurt, hurt because his older brother finally got in a serious relationship and kept it from him.
"I didn't know how you'd react. Dad wasn't…," Dean shrugged. Sam well remembered their father's tirades on homosexuals. He hadn't been fond of anything which went against the natural order of things (which helped him rationalize every task taken in carrying out the family business). Mostly it had been useful. Sometimes it had damaged his family more than silver harmed a werewolf.
"I'm not dad," Sam said quietly, hurt. He thought his brother knew him better than that.
"You two are more similar than you think," Dean's response was similarly subdued, before the older of the two brothers tried to inject some levity into the conversation, "but then again you are one of those California hippies, so it's all 'free love' and all that, yeah?"
"Something like that," Sam snorted.
"Now Dean, if you would sit still so you can be bandaged?" Castiel glared at the older Winchester, returning to the heart of the reason they'd been fighting before. "We do, after all, still need to deal with the consequences of your reckless behavior."
Under the circumstances and his new knowledge, Sam decides it's time to hightail it out of the room. He grabs his laptop and room key, sending one last parting shot before he spends the rest of the night in the library, "Don't do anything on my bed."
For once, he gets the last word.