Sam was sick and tired of this.
He couldn't watch them keep playing this game. Ten years worth of stares - dancing around the truth, words left unspoken and hanging in the air. At first, it was almost endearing. Watching Dean silently pine - it wasn't like him. If he wanted someone, he usually went for them. But with Cas, that wasn't the case.
After ten years, it lost its charm. To Sam, it became infuriating.
So, during breakfast one morning, he decided it was a perfect time to confront Dean about it.
They were both sat in the kitchen, scrambled eggs on their plates. Dean seemed to be in a good enough mood - he was probably spared of the nightmares for a night. Sam toyed with his eggs, trying to find a subtle way to lead in to the conversation. Without finding a better way, he said, "So...how's your love life going?"
The forkful of food practically fell out of Dean's mouth. Luckily, he saved it just in time. He didn't even wait to swallow before he spoke. "What?"
Sam shrugged. "You know, your love life. Have a crush on anybody?"
Dean chuckled, "A crush?" Then deadpanned, "No."
"Are you sure?" Sam pushed. "There's no guys that you-"
"Wait, wait - hold up." Dean interrupted him. "'Guys'? Sorry, Sammy, I don't swing that way."
Sam tried not to get too frustrated so quickly. Dean couldn't be that dense - he had to be in denial. But about what? It's not like he's homophobic. That much, Sam knew. "What about Castiel?"
The momentary panic that flashed in Dean's eyes was unmistakable. It disappeared quickly, but Sam didn't miss it. And he wouldn't let it go. "What're you talking about? Cas?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. You two have always been...close. Are you sure you don't like him, man?"
Dean laughed, but it sounded nervous. "We're just good friends. I told you, Sam. I don't like dudes. Not like that."
"I'm not an idiot, Dean." Sam stated. Beating around the bush wasn't going to get him anywhere. It never has. "You guys have made googly-eyes at each other for a decade. What are you so scared of?"
"I'm not scared!" Dean exclaimed, then fell into silence. Sam guessed that he didn't mean to say that. "There's nothing to be scared of because I don't like Cas. I don't."
It sounded rehearsed. Dean must have said that to himself a couple million times over the past decade. He was trying to make himself believe it. Sam sighed. He knew the feeling, all too well. "Dean, there's nothing wrong with it. Crush on Cas or not. Whatever your sexuality is-"
"Sam." He warned.
"-is perfectly okay." Sam smiled. "Dean, do you hate me? Does Mom hate me?"
Dean hesitated in answering. "It's… It's different with you."
"Why? If anything, I'm even gayer than you." Sam told him. "Do you even know what 'pansexual' means?"
Dean didn't answer at all that time.
"I know what it's like, Dean. To feel wrong - out of place. Taking it a step further, I know what it's like to be questioning your sexuality." Sam paused, and a soft smile grew on his face. "I know what it's like to be in love with an angel."
His older brother didn't look him in the eye. He kept his gaze concentrated on his nose. Sam couldn't read his expression; he had no idea what he was thinking, or what affect his words were having. Deciding he had nothing to lose, he kept going.
"You know how I feel about Gabriel, Dean. And he's an archangel, nonetheless." Sam explained to him. "Everyone knows. Everyone has known for years about my sexuality - it's not like I tried to keep it much of a secret as a kid. I didn't care if anyone knew if I had a boyfriend or a girlfriend or anything else. It was all about personality."
"Yeah, well, a personality is definitely something Gabe's got." Dean added, probably just glad they had moved on to somebody else's love life. "You struck gold with that one."
Sam's smile grew. "He's great. He really is."
Dean shook his head, rolling his eyes.
"And nobody thinks any less of me for it." Sam brought it all back around, not wanting to get too far off-topic. "Nobody cares that I'm queer. Nobody, Dean. And nobody is going to judge you for it."
Dean looked away. There was more to this than he was saying.
The realization of what his was truly about hit Sam, and it hit him hard.
"Dad isn't here, Dean." He told his brother, softly. "This is about him, isn't it?"
Dean didn't answer, but Sam saw his facial muscles tighten; he was the way Dean's eyes flicked to the other side of the room before returning to Sam's nose. He looked down, staring at his plate in silence for far too long. "What does this have to do with Dad?"
"Did you just ask me what accepting your sexuality has to do with John 'Toxic Masculinity' Winchester?" Sam asked, rhetorically. "Because that's a pretty dumb question, Dean."
"There's nothing to accept, Sam, because I'm not gay!" He exploded, slamming his fork onto the table. Sam's breathed hitched. Everyone else was still asleep, and he didn't want Dean waking them up.
His next words came out carefully - calculated. "There are orientations in between gay and straight. You know this. You know this, because you know me."
Silence.
"How'd you do it?" Dean asked, weakly.
Sam looked around, as if he had missed some physical event. "How did I do what?"
Dean shook his head. "Everything. Everything you ever said and did while standing up to Dad. All these years later, and I'm not sure how you did it. I barely managed to do it once or twice. And the man has been dead for over a decade, and still…"
"Birdie on your shoulder." Sam finished, nodding. "I get it, Dean. Trust me, I get it."
Dean didn't continue.
"In this context, I'll assume you want advice specifically related to love, and not my education." Sam chuckled lightly. "Accepting who you are can be hard. You're a very maternal person, Dean, and you hate to-"
"Maternal?" Dean sounded offended.
Sam scrunched his eyebrows. "Yeah, Dean. The only A you ever got in school was your Freshman year. In Home Ec. of all things. You cook like a professional. You're the one who used to sew up our clothes after hunts, and figured out how we still do our makeshift stitches to this day because of it. Not to mention how you are with kids."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it." He spoke up. "Please just - just stop."
"Anyways, if you don't have the terminology, it becomes pretty much impossible to figure out who you are." Sam explained. After a short pause, he asked, "Do...you have a term for what you feel, Dean?"
Dean lifted his fork again, and stabbed one of his eggs. He didn't put it his mouth. He just dangled it above his plate. Sam was surprised when he answered the question. "Bisexual. That's the, uh, term I've seen on the internet."
"Bisexual." Sam repeated. "Okay. Okay! You do have a word. You...really did do your own research, didn't you?"
Dean tsk'd. "I got curious. Shut up."
"Whatever you're feeling, whoever you like," Sam told him, moving on, "is perfectly okay. You and Dad saw me date plenty of guys. The world really won't fall apart around you, Dean. Well, no more than it already does every year."
Dean looked toward the hallway. The red veins in his eyes were all too clear. "This won't change how Mom looks at me? Or Jack?"
Sam smiled. "Dean, I know for a fact that Mom and Jack won't care. If they did, they would have made a big-ass deal out of me."
Dean stared right at Sam, with glossy eyes, considering his words.
"Now, tell me, Dean." His smile turned mischievous. "Have a crush on anybody?"
The smile that grew on Dean's face was all-new. Shy, happy, accepting. There was a softness to it that Sam had never seen him use when talking about anybody else before. "It's Cas."