Muffled yelling was heard from all corners of the bunker, bouncing off walls and doors until the entire property was filled with the harsh sound of vocal cords screeching abuse. Dean groaned in exasperation. Sam and Cas were at it again, which meant he won't be able to enjoy some time to himself without having to diffuse another pointless argument. Honestly, you would think that they could handle the occasional dispute on their own, right? After all, they were two nerdy, weird peas in a pod during every other circumstance, so why would a petty disagreement be any different? Though this logic may seem sound, one must remember that absolutely nothing made sense when it came to Winchesters and their repressed emotions.
Ever since Cas has been showing Sam how to control his new powers, they've been using the bunker's garage as a training area. The vehicles weren't much of a hindrance, considering that by the time Sam has unleashed his full telekinetic potential, he should be able to lift a semi truck over his head without more than a light nosebleed. Antique cars became training weights, and while Dean was unnerved by the disrespect of such fine craftsmanship, he's just happy that the Impala hasn't become one of Sam's play toys.
Rarely, yet often enough to become expected, Sam would violently flip his shit for some reason or another. Despite his sweet disposition and affinity with kindness, he would fly into a merciless rage whenever he even bordered on being truly upset. This included verbal assault, throwing things, supernaturally flicking the object of his frustrations through a wall, the whole nine yards. Thankfully, it takes certain circumstances, as few as they are, to get him truly upset. Unfortunately for Cas, these circumstances included failing at something multiple times.
Moreso unfortunately, Cas can't handle people yelling at him. While Sam is aggressive, years in an experimental facility left Cas with the instinct to accept abuse without objecting. He was reflexively passive, and while he now understands that people pushing him around is not okay, Dean knows that no amount of positive reinforcement from either him or Sam could break him of certain habits.
Dean descended the spiral staircase in haste, wanting to get this lover's dispute over with before Sam got carried away and ended up hurting Cas' feelings. The last time Dean let that happen, the senior telepath spent almost a week away from the bunker in fear he would be kicked out. Again. Now that Dean reached the ground floor, he could hear the commotion more clearly.
"-This is stupid!"
Thunk
"This entire technique-"
Crash
"Is just-"
Bang
"Completely unnecessary!"
Crash Crash Crash
Whatever technique it was, it must require an immense amount of skill to evade Dean's genius baby brother for so long. Then again, Dean may just be biased.
Bracing himself, he walked his final steps to the garage entrance, telling himself he's prepared for whatever Sam throws his way. The garage was a wreck, tools and garbage flying threateningly around the room while Cas defended the cars from their hateful barrage. A news flyer hit Dean in the forehead, which would have been followed by a pencil if not for his trained reflexes. In the center of the lot stood Sam, surrounded by a whirlwind of small objects, the cars shaking uncertainly along the ground. For once, Dean was pleased that without drinking telepath blood, Sam's powers can only lift an office chair.
"I don't see how spinning pencils in circles can help me lift a goddamn truck, Castiel!" Sam roared from inside his tornado of junk, glaring at the man vainly trying to save a hot rod's paint job.
Cas, per usual, said nothing, only looking over his shoulder for Dean's support. He was probably holding out for Dean to arrive this whole time, considering how relieved he looked as his eyes met his. He automatically felt bad for making Cas wait that long, stepping between him and his brother.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean called, trying to get his brother's attention away from Cas.
Sam turned his glare on him. "What do you want, Dean?"
"Just came down to ask why you're yelling at poor Cas here, is all."
"He's being tedious, Dean."
"And how would you know? You're the rookie here, Cas' got way more mileage than you, man."
The flying tools of death slowed, not quite stopping. Progress was progress, Dean thought.
"It still seems a little unnecessary, right?" Sam returned, voice at room volume.
"Honestly, it's probably so that you don't pull this shit again."
The now levitating objects fell to the ground at once, sending a clang through the garage. Sam looked around at the mess he's made, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Sam isn't planning homicide, one point for Dean. Now to take care of Cas.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam said, smiling softly once again.
Dean nodded sagely. "Isn't there someone else you want to tell that to?"
All eyes went to Castiel, who looked like a cornered animal. "Um," Sam murmered, trying to step closer to him. "Sorry for blowing my lid, Cas. You were right, I need control if I'm gonna learn to control my powers."
Cas' eyes slid from Sam to Dean, then back again, before nodding slowly. "Thank you, Sam," he replied, relaxing from his defensive pose.
"Yeah, no prob. Do ya think we can cut this lesson short though, pick it up tomorrow? I've got a pretty big mess to clean up."
"Of course, Sam."
Dean quietly back out of the room. Crisis averted, check. Dean is awesome, double check.