Sam huffs as he is once more met with his brother's voicemail. Not bothering to leave a ninth message, he grabs his bags and makes his way out of the airport terminal to the line of taxis waiting outside.
"Typical," he snarls under his breath as he gives his bags to the driver and slides into the back of the cab. He gives the driver Dean's address before slumping down in his seat. He can already tell that things won't go according to plan. The party for his parents' wedding anniversary would be on in two days and neither John nor Mary knew their youngest son would be there. Dean had offered him his spare bed until their parents found out but Sam can't help but worry now.
He takes out his phone again in the hopes that his brother has replied but no such luck. His watch tells him that it's only just eight o'clock now; Dean has most likely slept in instead of waking up to collect Sam.
"You alright there?" the driver calls back to Sam and he forces his lips up into a smile.
"Yeah, just trying to get things back on track," he sighs. The driver nods and begins some story involving a dog, the Mayor and a pick-up, but Sam's tired and puts on his earphones in an effort to tune the man out.
Forty minutes later, they arrive outside Dean's apartment building and Sam breathes a sigh of relief as he pays the driver and begins to drag his bags up the steps.
"Take care now," the man calls after him as he reaches the door.
"You too," he offers with a forced smile, praying to god Dean is awake and will buzz him in. After ten minutes an elderly lady lets him in with her after he explains that he's the brother of the handsome young mechanic from down the hall who carries her shopping in for her on Tuesdays. Sam can only smile and nod as she goes on singing his brother's praises.
An escape presents itself when the elevator reaches the fourth floor to find another neighbour waiting there. Mrs Tate immediately launches into conversation with the woman and Sam quietly makes a getaway. He's down the hall and around the corner before he dares to take a breath, and then he's laughing silently, shoulders shaking and hands on his knees.
Twenty seven years old and running from old ladies. What has his life come too?
He makes his way down the hall to where his brother's door is. Listening for any sign of life within, he raises his fist and begins pounding on the door.
"Dean!" he yells as he knocks. "You better open this goddamn door, Dean, or I swear I'll-"
His fist is suddenly met with air and his eyes land on a practically naked man with a serious case of bed head. The man squints up at Sam in confusion and Sam cannot begin to process the embarrassment he feels.
"Oh my god," he splutters, his jaw working to comprehend what on earth is going on. "I – I thought my brother – that he lived here – oh my god, I am so sorry!"
The man just stares up at him with tired blue eyes, clearly not understanding a word of Sam's frantic apology. Sam is about to back away in mortification when the groggy voice of his brother rises up from within the apartment.
"Cas, shut the damn door and come back to bed," and Sam has no idea what to think.
"Dean, did you not say that your brother is arriving today?" the guy asks over his shoulder, his eyes still on Sam.
There's a curse from the bedroom direction and then Dean is sliding out of his room in nothing but a pair of boxers. His eyes widen in a way that would be funny to Sam if he could think beyond the fact that his brother is sleeping with a dude.
"Sammy?" Dean's voice has nervous quality to it as his eyes cut between Sam and his . . . boyfriend? As the guy steps back to allow him through the door, Sam shakes himself and moves into the apartment. He puts his bags down to the side and stands there awkwardly, not sure if he should his half-naked brother or not. Dean seems to get this and he ducks back into his bedroom, emerging a few moments later clothed by a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
"What, uh . . ." his older brother is lost for words, and Sam can't blame him. "I thought your flight was coming in this evening?"
Sam swallows. "No, it was this morning. Seven a.m."
They stand there staring at each other, neither knowing what to say. The silence is deafening and gets worse with every minute that passes.
"It's nice to meet you Sam, I am Castiel," he jumps as the guy - fully-clothed now - appears beside him suddenly; Sam didn't even notice him leaving the room or coming back.
"Oh, uh – hi, Castiel?" Sam shakes the hand that is offered to him before the other man's attention is directed towards his brother.
"I'll go and get some breakfast and leave you two to talk," he smiles ruefully at Dean. His hand twitches, as if to reach and hold Dean's, before it clenches into a fist as he darts a small glance towards Sam. He nods at the brothers before making a quick exit, closing the door softly and leaving the two alone.
Something twists at Sam's heart as he sees Dean's worried gaze follow Castiel out the door – guilt. It hits him that both men are genuinely worried about the fate of the relationship, that Sam would somehow object to their being together.
"So," he begins, "you and Castiel?"
Dean moves to sit on the couch, refusing to meet Sam's eyes. "Yeah, his car broke down and Bobby got me to work on it. We didn't . . . we were just friends at the start and . . . and I just – we . . ."
"How long have you known him?" he ask gently, his tone soft with understanding. He sinks down slowly onto the couch beside Dean who smiles, seemingly without meaning to.
"About a year, I'd say," his gaze going distant. "We've, uh, been dating for nearly eight months now." Sam maintains his supportive smile as Dean eyes him nervously.
"He still hasn't dumped your sorry ass after eight months?" he jokes incredulously, ducking to avoid the fist that flies towards his face. "Okay, alright, I'm sorry."
Dean's raised eyebrow shows how much he believes Sam's laughter-filled apology. "Bitch."
"Jerk," Sam laughs in response. "But seriously, who knows? Do Mom and Dad?"
Dean goes still once more. "No, just Bobby and some of the guys. I am gonna tell them, Sammy, I swear; I just need to pick the right time - and the party is not the right time so you can get that idea out of your head right now."
Sam splutters incredulously as Dean glares at him, daring him to deny it. He opens his mouth to protest before deciding against it with a grin.
"Dean," he quietly asks in a more serious tone now. His brother looks up at him with a questioning face. "Why didn't you tell me? Did you really think I would care?"
"No! Of course not, Sammy, I just . . ." he trails off and rubs a hand over his face. He suddenly looks so much older as he softly says, "I just didn't know what to tell you."
Sam makes a decision then. "Tell me about Castiel," he demands. Dean looks up at the sudden change in direction of the conversation.
"What do you want to know?" he asks cautiously. Sam sighs in exasperation.
"How about everything?"
For the next hour, Sam is filled in on everything about Cas ("only Dad calls him Castiel") - his favourite food (burgers), the movies that he hasn't seen (a constantly shrinking list, dean assures him) and the ones that he has, the infuriating brother of Cas named Gabriel, and the way that Cas finally figured out that Dean was trying to ask him out. He is told hundreds of stories of the funny things that Cas has said and done, and he scrolls through numerous photos on Dean's phone of their various adventures, and through it all, Sam sees that his brother has fallen in love, maybe without even knowing it.
Their laughter is interrupted by the sound of the door opening, Cas popping his head around to check that they're both still there. Dean smiles brightly and stands up to take a shopping bag from the dark-haired man, leaning in to brush a kiss across his cheek.
"Did you do a whole grocery run while you were out?" Dean laughs.
Cas shrugs in response. "I wasn't sure how much time you'd need."
Sam watches the two move around the small kitchen with an easiness between them that he recognises from his parents. He can't deny that it'll take getting used to, that the ladies' man that has always been his brother is now dating a guy, but the thing is, he hasn't seen Dean this happy in years.
Jess is going to have a meltdown when I tell her, he thinks, but he can't seem to wipe the smile off his face.
[-]
They all have a great time at the party. Their friends are all there, some that Sam hasn't seen in years since moving to California. Cas seems to have met most of them and he knows a few quite well, some like Charlie giving him and Dean knowing looks.
Mary cries when Sam walks through the front door with his brother. He hasn't been home in over a year and despite his parents making trips out to visit him and Jess, he can't help but tear up a little as he wraps his arms around his mother and gives his father a one-armed hug.
He sits back, later in the evening, and watches his brother. Dinner is long over but Dean and Castiel still sit at the long table in the garden, talking quietly and smiling like they don't have a care in the world.
A hand on his shoulder makes him break his gaze away from the two. He looks up and sees his father smiling softly in the pair's direction. John motions with head to Sam, and father and son walk back up to the house, at ease in each other's company.
"Did Dean tell you?" John asks, his eyes darting back to where Dean sits. Sam stares at his father.
"You know? Dean told you?"
"I figured it out," his dad smiles, a touch sadly. "I know he'll tell me when he's ready. All that matters to me is that he's happy, doesn't matter to me who makes him happy," he adds, upon seeing Sam's face.
"Huh," is all Sam can manage and he turns to look back at the couple. John claps him on the shoulder and keeps walking up to the house.
"Oh, just one more thing," his father calls to him, and Sam looks over to where his father is smiling. "Don't tell your mother; I need to be there with a camera when she finds out."
Sam laughs, loud and free, and he knows that Dean has nothing to be afraid of.
[-]
Back in California, it's ten o'clock at night and Sam is buried under piles of paperwork when his phone rings. His mother's voice greets his ear as she tells him the good news and despite the deadlines that are looming, the reports that have to be written and the case notes that need to be looked over, Sam leans back in his chair and smiles.
Finally, he thinks.