AN: While it does seem like it, this is not related to those other fics I have where the story is between Dean and Sam but the relationship is Destiel (I need a name for that verse). Anyway, I hope you like this. Also, this is my 40th fic here on . Hoo-rah!
For the last week Dean had been in the crappiest mood Sam had ever seen him in He'd never been easy to get along with, at least not for Sam, but he'd never been this bad.
Sam started noticing at a salt and burn, when Dean's lighter wouldn't work.
"Fucking piece of shit!" Dean yelled, throwing the little zippo across the graveyard, only looking satisfied when he heard it strike a tree.
"What the hell man?" Sam asked, pulling a matchbook from his pocket and lighting it, dropping it into the open grave.
"Damn thing wouldn't work!"
"I saw that, but…" he trailed off, seeing that look on Dean's face that was telling him to shut the hell up before he got punched in the nose. "Nevermind," he finished.
The next day was worse, because Dean was now directing his bitchiness at Sam.
It was one of those days when they'd already paid for a night at the motel and didn't have another job lined up. Those were generally spent eating, sleeping, and cleaning weapons if there was enough time between the other two things. Sam had gone and got them food from a diner close by and, God forbid, he'd forgotten to make Dean's a double bacon instead of just the regular amount.
To a normal person, this would've been when they said "I wish you'd remembered," or some other average reaction. But not Dean, no, he threw a bitch fit that made Sam wonder why he was considered the bitchy one.
"Jesus Christ Dean, get over it and eat your damn burger," Sam snapped, tired of Dean's tirade.
Dean mumbled something but he finally sat down across from Sam at the small motel table. He snatched up his burger and took a big bite out of it, making a face. "It's cold."
Sam rolled his eyes but stayed silent, not wanting to pour gasoline on that particular fire.
Two days after that Sam was really wishing he had his own car. They'd been driving for hours, the only job they'd found being states from where they were, and Sam's patience was wearing thin.
Dean had been bitching practically nonstop, and about every possible thing. The road was too bumpy, Sam was being too quiet (like he could get a word in with all the bitching), the stereo was acting wonky, whatever crossed Dean's mind, he was bitching about it.
"Dean, seriously, take some friggin' midol and shut the hell up," Sam said after Dean had decided to keep him awake with a rant about how his gas station chips were too salty.
Sam began catching on when Dean snapped at Cas. They'd just finished another run of the mill salt and burn (seriously, it's the apocalypse, why is it so boring, Sam wondered) when Cas had shown up to tell them that his search for God wasn't going so well.
Dean had made some smartass comment that Sam hadn't really paid attention to, but he had seen the hurt look on Cas's face right before he mojo'd himself out of their motel room. The pieces sort of fell together and Sam sat down on the foot of his bed, staring at Dean with a smirk.
"Well that explains everything," he said, wearing his favorite bitchface.
"What?" Dean asked suspiciously, dropping into the chair across from his brother.
"Cas cut you off," he stated, smirk getting even more patronizing.
"What the hell do you mean?" Dean asked, genuine confusion on his face. It threw Sam off a little, but he stuck to his guns.
"I mean you're not riding the angel train anymore," Sam said bluntly.
Dean scowled. "I was never riding the angel train in the first place, Sammy."
Now Sam was genuinely confused. "Dude, are you forgetting that I know about you two? Also, I've heard you, which is just gross, but motel walls are thin."
"Well, yeah, we've had sex. But I'm not the one boarding the train if you know what I mean," Dean said, refusing to meet Sam's eyes. For a moment Sam didn't understand. Then his eyes widened and he gaped at his brother when the true meaning of his words hit him.
"Oh. My. God. You're joking."
Dean grimaced. "I wouldn't joke about that, Sammy."
"Wait. So you… Bottom?"
Dean ground his teeth together. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I do."
Sam stared at Dean for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. He was literally clutching his stomach and rocking back and forth, gasping for air when he could because damn if that wasn't the funniest thing he'd ever heard.
"And why the fuck is that so funny, Sammy?" Dean asked, anger written clearly on his face.
"Because, Dean, you're the manliest man to ever walk the planet, yet you bottom. For an angel in a trench coat. Dude, that is hilarious!" Sam said after he calmed down. "How did that even happen?" he asked, tone somewhere between curiosity and disgust.
"He's a whole lot stronger than me Sam!"
That sent Sam into a whole different level of hysterics. Dean waited for the laughter to subside, pissed expression on his face. "Are you done?" he finally asked.
"Maybe. But Dean, like I said, I've heard you guys before. You sound like you enjoy it," Sam said, finally deciding to be serious, because Dean seemed like he needed to talk, and Dean never needs to talk.
Dean grinned. "Oh I do. It's unbelievable, Sammy. Dude, something hits your prostate, it's like… Well, I would say it's like the end of the world, but that's not very fun. It's like pie, Sammy, that's how awesome it is."
"Then what's the problem?"
Dean shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "It's awesome that way, but that doesn't mean I don't want it the other way too."
"Then… tell him that?" Sam supplied.
Dean laughed. "'Cause he's a freaking angel of the lord. I love him, but dude's scary."
Sam's jaw dropped. "Did you just say you love him?"
Dean stilled as he visibly thought over the last few words he'd said. "Uh, yeah. I guess I did," he said, a blush creeping up his neck.
Sam was silent, staring at his brother until "Awwww."
"Damn it Sammy, don't make fun of me!"
"Aw, Dean's in love with his gay angel boyfriend!"
"Shut up," Dean growled, but Sam just laughed.
"Dude, just man up and go talk to him. Tell him what you want. He's not going to smite you for it. He loves you too."
Dean sighed. "I really hate that you're right."
Sam grinned broadly. "You should really be used to it by now."
"Whatever," Dean said, heading for the door. "I'm gonna go call Cas down. This is going to be one hell of an awkward conversation."
"More awkward than this one?"
Dean paused in the doorway to glance back at Sam. "Not a chance."