My name is Sam Winchester and I know this seems girly and gay but I need to let someone know what the hell is happening.
You know my brother Dean? Well, he's not as straight as he likes to make himself out to be.
I mean, look at the way he looks at Cas, do you fucking look at your best friend like that?
I didn't think so.
He can deny it all he wants, the times he and Cas are eye-fucking, but face it. We all know what's happening.
He's as straight as a fucking slinky.
A slinky!
You know? Those little metal toys that you played with as a kid, the ones that you enjoy watching as they tumble down the stairs.
That's Dean.
He can deny it all he wants, I'm not going to take it anymore. I swear, the next time I see him staring ar Cas I'm going to lock them in the fucking closet and take the Impala to a bar.
I swear I'll do it.
Hell, I'll summon Cas right now just to get it over with.
The closet!
Fuck it, I'm doing this right now.
Sam stalked up to his brother Dean and shoved him into the closet. "Castiel! Get your feathery ass down here!"
With the sound of wings the angel appeared. "Yes?"
Without a warning Sam shoved him into the closet with Dean, snatched up the car keys and stomped out of the bunker.
Castiel looked at Dean in confusion. "What is the meaning of this Dean?"
"I don't know," Dean growled angrily as he jostled the closet door. "He fucking locked us in."
Castiel blinked confusedly. "I can't seem to use my powers."
"Son of a bitch," Dean growled once more and slammed himself against the closed door, hoping it would give way. It didn't, much to his chagrin. "I'm gonna fucking kill him."
"Maybe that is the reason he has left." Castiel said, looking around the confined space. "Where's the light?"
"Right here," Dean grumbled, pulling a short metal chain to turn on the light. He looked around the floor for something to open the door with but only found a slip of paper.
Castiel picked it up curiously. "'Look up.'" Dean did so and let loose a long vibrant string of curses. A small innocent sprout of mistletoe hung above their heads. "I understand this tradition," Castiel chirped, making Dean loose another long string of curses. "We kiss now if I'm correct."
"I'm gonna kill him." Dean nodded to himself. "I'm really going to kill him. He'd better sleep with one eye open." Dean glared at Castiel and snatched the note from his hand. "'If you want me to let you out, solve the goddamn problem and just fuck already.'" Dean scrunched his nose and glared at the door. "Now I'm really going to kill him." He glared up at the mistletoe and then at Castiel. "I'm gonna kill him."
Castiel just stood. "I don't believe you will Dean, you aren't a cold blood murderer."
Dean gave him a sour look. "Let's get this over with." He pulled Castiel forward into a kiss and was mildly surprised to find that his lips were soft and warm.
Sam sat at the bar nursing his beer bottle with a sour expression. The barista walked up to him with a sympathetic smile and took his empty bottle, placing a fresh one in front of him. "Bad day?"
"My brother just needs to fuck him so I can rest easy."
A confused expression graced the poor barista and he leaned forward over the counter a bit. "I'm sorry?"
"There's this guy, that my brother stares at. Constantly. They just need too fuck." Sam laughed slightly. "The tension between them is too much," he took a swig of his drink. "I locked them in the closet."
The barista chuckled. "I think you've had enough for one night. Did you come here with someone?"
Sam shook his head. "Trust me, it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk." With a remorseful sigh he put his money on the counter for the barista to take and went back out to the Impala.
Sam opened the front door and was greeted with silence. "Dean, I'm home," he called out.
"Good! Now let us out damn it." Dean growled irately.
"Did you kiss and make up?"
"Shut up and let us out!"
Sam unlocked the door and moved out of the way as the door flew open and Dean fell out. "Finally come out of the closet Dean?"
"Fuck off," Dean turned a venomous glare on his brother before pushing himself up off of the ground.