Title: Are You Holding Back?

Pairing: Sam/Castiel

Rating: PG-13 for slash and bad language

Spoilers: Up to 5x14

Dedicated: woodstarling for requesting Sassy fic.

Summary: In which Dean is a jerk, Castiel is a 14 year old girl, and Sam is bemused.

Author's notes: Fluffy and cracky like woah. SOME DAY I will write this pairing seriously. SOME DAY.

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The problem is, always has been, that for all Sam's ability to talk to other people, he's almost always completely blindsided when they have a crush on him. It's not that he thinks himself ugly - he's been hit on enough times to know better - it's just that he never really stops to think someone might be being friendly for reasons other than their being, well, friendly. And it's weird, because there's always a slight moment of panic, and it's always been left to other people to make the first move on account; he normally only makes his after they've done something to make it obvious that no, they aren't just saying they have a crush, they actually mean it.

So, as per usual, it completely and utterly throws him when Dean finishes off the last of the beer from the fridge and decides with the wisdom of six bottles inside him to announce, "Pretty sure Castiel's got a crush on you."

Beer stings the back of his throat and up inside his nose, but at least Sam manages to stop himself spraying the major part of his drink. "Dean, the Hell?"

"Just sayin' it," Dean continues. "He keeps hiding from you -"

"Yeah, which isn't -"

"Sam," Dean interrupts back, slamming his empty beer bottle down on the table before leaning forward and pointing at Sam meaningfully. "Sam. Castiel doesn't hide, okay? Not from people, or - maybe he does. Okay. Whatever. You hurt Cas, or he hurts you, I'm killing someone. Got it?"

Sam rolls his eyes and pats Dean on the shoulder. "Got it, Dean. Get some sleep."

"I'm not done talking," Dean snaps when Sam gets up, but the moment Sam looks back he's greeted by only, "No, wait. Think I am."

Sam bites back a 'thought as much', and heads off to get some sleep.

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The problem is, once Dean's put the idea there, Sam can't get rid of it. Castiel doesn't turn up around him that often, and when he does, they never seem to make eye contact with each other much unless they're arguing. It doesn't make sense that this would be a crush going off that alone - nevermind the fact that Castiel's also a guy, sort of, and more importantly an angel.

So Sam tries to brush it off, tries his best to ignore it, and then finds himself completely and utterly failing at ignoring it not long after Valentine's Day, when Sam emerges from the shower wearing a towel as usual and finds Castiel and Dean mid-conversation.

There pretty much isn't any other way to interpret Castiel's going quiet, blushing red, and then disappearing.

"Holy crap," Sam says.

"Told you," Dean replies.

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It's like someone's turned all the lights on in his subconscious after that; Sam can't sleep without always weird, sometimes wonderful, sometimes horrifying dreams about Castiel turning up. Doesn't help that most of the latter are based on reality. Hell, even when he jerks off, he's only in control up until the last few strokes and then all the pointedly thinking about anything, anyone else ends up meaningless because when he comes it's with Castiel in mind. It drives him up the wall, and he has to stop it somehow or another.

Most of it's a question of trying to get the already shifty angel alone for half a second; Castiel seems content to turn up whenever Bobby or Dean ask for him, but only turns up for Sam once he's assured someone else is there - someone else he can keep eye contact with.

It's a mean cheat, Sam knows it is, but things are getting out of hand when he finally cracks and steals Dean's phone, texting Castiel and waiting for the angel to turn up, grabbing him by the shoulder as soon as he sees him.

"Dean is not here," Castiel says, though it's more of a question than a statement.

"We need to talk," Sam replies, knowing Castiel can shrug him off in an instant; that even demon blood can't give him the strength to actually fight Castiel in any way.

Castiel's expression holds only anxiety and doubt, and Sam wonders if the angel has any idea how irritatingly pretty he is when nervous. "I have nothing to say to you," Castiel replies, tone abrupt and harsh, and Sam's had this sort of argument with Castiel before. He knows how it ends; Castiel's as good at dodging answers as any Winchester.

So Sam does something else.

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Generally, when making out, Sam's always been interested in the non-kissing parts more than anything else; loves biting, loves loosening up clothes so he can run his hands over skin with the kink of not being able to quite reach everything until the clothes are actually off, but with Castiel the kissing's good enough he actually has to stop and concentrate before he can pull his shirt loose, warming his hands on the angel's back and feeling the sharp arch and shiver when Castiel reacts to the cold. It's one of the sexiest things he's ever seen in his life and he can't begin to guess which of the reasons for why that's the case matters most; can't begin to guess if it's the fact he's not had sex in weeks, the fact that Castiel's an angel, the fact that Castiel's Castiel that does it.

He's outright thirsty for the kisses, licking at Castiel's mouth as if he's been gasping for it, and it's only self-preservation that makes him pause to answer Dean's phone when it rings.

There's a mouthful of abuse, followed by a sudden - "Wait. Crap. Is that Cas - are you - oh, fucking Hell -" and the call ending.

About fifteen seconds later, just when Sam's managed to get his mouth away from Castiel's long enough to start attacking the angel's neck, the phone goes off again. "Guessing you're still in town, I'll see you tomorrow. Swear to God Sammy, if you get anything on my ph-"

Castiel's hand closes around Sam's on the phone, and there's a sad little beep as the battery dies.

Sam takes the hint.