It was too quiet in the bunker. That alone made Sam suspicious. When he combined that with the fact that he had seen neither Dean nor Cas in hours, it was enough to make him take a break from the (admittedly fruitless) research and go investigate.
No one in the entry hall. No one in the war room, or the TV room, or even the kitchen, which really surprised him. Dean was an eating machine, no question about it.
It was only when he got close to the bedrooms that Sam heard voices.
"I don't think I can do this, Dean."
Do what?
"Sure you can. I'll help you. Just pick it up and shove it in. On three: one, two, three!"
Grunts and groans of exertion.
"It's not going in."
Sam crept closer, intrigued, especially as he realized the sounds were coming from his own bedroom.
"We'll switch. You get in the front, I'll take the back."
"Can you handle the back?"
"We'll do this, Cas. C'mon, push that sucker!"
What the hell?
"I think it's stuck."
"It's not stuck! You're just not pushing hard enough!"
Oh my God, Sam thought. They're in my room.
"I think we should get Sam to help us."
"I told you, Sam can't know about this! Now can we just get this done already?"
"I'm trying!"
"Well, try harder!"
There were more grunts and some heavy breathing. Sam decided he'd had enough. They were all adults, sure, and Dean could do whatever he wanted, with whomever he wanted, but not in Sam's room! Not in Sam's bed!
He stepped back a bit and took a few running steps. When he reached the door, he prepared to shove it open with his shoulder, but to his surprise it gave under his weight with no resistance at all. It hadn't even been locked.
The momentum carried him to the middle of the room, where he found a surprised-looking Dean and Cas . . . nowhere near the bed.
Sam's planned speech about respecting each other's boundaries died in his throat.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked. "Did someone break in? Are we under attack?"
"Um, no . . ."
"Is there a case?" asked Cas.
"No . . . I just heard weird noises, and—is that a desk?"
Dean beamed. "Just like you've always wanted. Happy birthday."
"So you two were . . . putting this thing together for me?"
"Putting it together was the easy part," said Cas. "Getting it in place is a different story."
"We thought we'd have it done by now," said Dean.
Realization dawned. "There's no such thing as an ashkente, is there?"
"We had to keep you busy for a while. This was supposed to be a surprise."
"That's okay," said Sam. "I don't like surprises much anyway. Need a hand?"
Cas gave Dean a meaningful look. The elder Winchester grumbled, but finally gave in. It only took Sam one good shove to get the desk up against the wall where it belonged. He stepped back and looked at it.
"This is great," he said. "Thanks, guys."
Dean looked at him curiously. "What exactly made you try and break down the door, if there wasn't some big emergency?"
"I thought . . ." Sam was ashamed to admit it now. "I thought you two were . . ."
"What? You thought we were what?" Dean blinked as he realized what all the grunting and groaning must have sounded like. "You thought we were-? And it bothered you that much?"
"I thought you were in my bed."
Dean burst out laughing. "Sammy," he said, "you gotta stay off the fanfiction sites. C'mon, Cas, let's let Mr. Dirty Mind here enjoy his new present while we go watch wrestling."
The angel was just standing there, a look of utter confusion on his face. "What," he asked, "did he think we were doing?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Milking a cow, Cas. Now come on."
"There is no cow in the bunker-"
"Dammit, I'll explain to you later! Let's just get out of here!"
Sam waited until they were gone and then sat down in the beautiful new chair that went with his beautiful new desk.
Maybe if those two weren't practically falling all over each other all the time, I'd be less likely to believe that they were . . . doing that. Sometimes I wish they'd just get a room already.
But not my room!