Ready, Fire, Aim

Chapter Three- Let's Play Pretend

AN: Jesus, you guys are all a bunch of Sam-haters, aren't you? All my reviews had some variation of death-threats and others telling me how awful I am for pairing them for like, two seconds. The story's not over yet, guys! Oh well, at least it spurred the silent readers into review action haha! Anyway, I still think you guys are fabulous and love your death-threats just as much as I love your oddly endearing confessions of undying (and slightly creepy) love. I guess it works out in your favor as well, because they definitely cracked the whip to get me writing another chapter.

Also, this chapter is so short. I promise, it won't happen again.

As always, big hugs to my beta Libranfate for being able to piece together my ramblings into some semblance of a story. I love you.

It felt good. It did. That wasn't the issue.

The issue was Sam was too heavy. His smooth cheeks were stubble free, his lips were too thin, his eyes weren't green enough, and his hair kept tickling Cas' nose. Sam's kisses were polite and somewhat chaste, not nearly demanding enough, and he hadn't let go of Cas' cheek for a good fifteen minutes. Cas was sure Sam meant it as a tender gesture, but he was getting a kink in his neck from holding his head to one side.

It was good, though, and that was the problem.

Sam, with Cas' permission, had removed their shirts as they lay pressed together on Cas' bed. Cas could feel every breath Sam took, and it was comforting to have someone else's warmth against him again. Cas remained a passive but willing participant until Sam's fingers ghosted down his sides. Cas couldn't help the involuntary shiver that passed through him. Dean used to do that to him. He would run his knuckles lightly down Cas' ribs before spreading his fingers to grip Cas' hips, bringing their bodies closer together. Cas closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't let himself think about this now. It wasn't fair to Sam, and honestly, it wasn't fair to himself either. Cas settled his head back further into the pillow as Sam's lips continued down his neck, and his fingers wound themselves into the frustrating locks of hair.

With his eyes shut, Cas was almost able to pretend that this was something that he wanted. He tried his damndest to not think of Dean, but Sam was gently coaxing him to go further, and it felt too good to stop. He gripped tightly onto Sam's shoulders and squeezed, not really meaning to cant his hips upward when Sam's thumbs circled low on his hips. Sam groaned against his chest and pushed back against him, but Cas just turned his head to the side and clenched his eyes shut tighter. He wanted this, he did, but try as he might, it became all too apparent that he didn't want this with Sam.

It's too soon. He lied to himself. You're just nervous. It's okay. Cas buried his face in Sam's hair, inhaling deeply, pressing Sam's face into his neck. He felt Sam's teeth scrape his skin, and he just let it happen when Sam reached between them to unbutton his pants. Sam flexed his hips, and a soft whimper passed unbidden through Cas' lips, emboldening the man above him to begin pushing Cas' pants down over his hips.

"Wait, wait, Sam," Cas pressed a hand up against Sam's chest, lightly pushing the confused man away from him. Sam rose up on his elbows, and Cas tried to convey an apology through his eyes. "Sam, I'm sorry. I…" Cas couldn't finish the sentence and looked helplessly at Sam, who just smiled and nodded.

"It's okay, Cas. I shouldn't have pushed you." Sam sat back on his haunches, regarding Cas with slow, sad eyes.

"Sam, no, you didn't." Cas put his hand on Sam's cheek, needing to reassure him, if nothing else. Sam nodded and looked away, but Cas could tell that he didn't believe him for a second. It wasn't Sam's fault, not really. Cas was pushing himself. He just wanted to feel again, and Sam was so ready, so compliant to all of Cas' little whims that he couldn't help but want more.

Cas was just glad Sam didn't leave this time; he didn't want to be alone. Instead, he rose up on his side, propping up his head with a hand, staring at him with something akin to remorse. Cas stretched his hand across the bed and turned it palm up, letting Sam know what he wanted. There was a small sigh as Sam took his hand, curling his fingers around Cas' and running the pad of his thumb over his knuckles. Cas smiled; there was no denying that Sam was a great guy. Anyone would be lucky to have him yet here Sam was, with him, and all Cas could think about was his brother. It was so cliché and sad that it was almost laughable.

Trying to shake the negative thoughts away, Cas pulled Sam closer, placing a soft kiss to his lips. He pushed a strand of hair behind Sam's ear and smiled.

"How about a movie and take-out?" Cas asked, and Sam returned his smile, albeit grudgingly, but Cas pretended not to notice.

"Sure, Cas," Sam said, and with all the fake enthusiasm he could muster, Cas pulled himself out of bed and yanked Sam up with him.

Twenty-five minutes later, the takeout from Pei-Wei's was sitting, steaming on the table, but Sam was still out on the deck, talking on the phone. Cas could tell that whatever conversation he was having was distressing him. He kept running his fingers through his hair and chewing on his thumbnail, before throwing his arms wide, his voice rising passionately. Cas couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was obvious that it wasn't good. He rose from his seat and moved over to the French doors that lead to his balcony. He turned the handle and was able to open the door a crack before Sam's hand came out of nowhere, slamming it in his face. To say that Cas was taken aback was an understatement. He was too surprised to fight it and instead, took himself back to the couch, waiting again in stunned silence.

Sam wrapped up his conversation quickly, and Cas heard the click of the door opening. He didn't turn to face his friend, but felt Sam step up behind him and pull his head to the side, planting a soft kiss on top of it. Sam let his fingers linger on the back of Cas' neck before he backed away.

"You're leaving," Cas stated.

"Yeah." Sam confirmed from behind. Cas nodded, but didn't turn around. "Cas, I…" But whatever Sam was going to say, he never found out. After a short pause, Sam sighed and left. Cas leaned against the back of the couch, feeling more relaxed than he had in days.

Sam's feet were heavy, and it took more energy than he had to force himself up the stairs that led to his apartment. He opted for the stairs instead of taking the elevator as was per his usual in order to prolong the inevitable. You see, there was someone waiting for him at his front door, someone more frightening than the police and less welcome than his annoying neighbor that smelled like moth balls. Sam had felt the life drain out of him as soon as he hopped off the bus to see a shiny, black Impala parked out in front of his building. His hands twitched and pulled up into a fist before he shoved them into his pockets, turning away from the car and making his way to the entrance. He waited for the elevator, but when the metal doors slid open, he found he could not enter. Turning toward the side, he opened the door leading to the staircase and began the long ascent to his seventh floor flat.

Finally, he reached his floor's landing, but he hesitated in opening the door marked with a large, blue seven. He knew this was the moment that would change everything for him. The minute he opened the door and looked down the hallway, Sam would see his brother, and everything would automatically be different. Cas would no longer be his, if he ever was, and Sam wasn't sure how he would even handle the situation yet. He needed more time. Maybe, if he just tossed the keys at Dean and turned off his phone, he could hold up at Cas' for the week, and they could just go from there. Breathing in, Sam gripped the door handle. Exhaling, he pulled.

"Not bad, Sammy," Dean announced as he surveyed the area. Sam shucked off his shoes and tossed his keys into a bowl on the stand next to his door. Dean dropped his duffle on the floor and tossed his jacket over the back of Sam's couch.

"That's what hooks are for, Dean," Sam said, rolling his eyes as he picked up the jacket and hung it up for his brother. Dean just ignored him and went for the kitchen. There was the distinct 'tskchhh' of bottles opening before Dean came back in, offering Sam one of his own beers. Sam shook his head and accepted.

"Thanks," he said sarcastically as his hand closed over the cool bottle. Dean nodded like it was no problem and slumped onto Sam's couch. "Please Dean, make yourself at home," Sam said as Dean eyed him warily.

"What's up your ass, Sam?" Dean set the bottle on the table, and Sam winced, knowing the condensation would leave a ring. There were coasters right by Dean's hand, for god's sakes! Sam resisted rolling his eyes and tossed him a coaster. "Whoa man," Dean shook his head, breathing out through heavily puffed cheeks, "California has made you prissy," he commented as he raised his bottle to put the block of wood underneath it. Sam took the arm chair next to his brother and crossed his legs. Dean sat back and scoffed at the sight of him. "Seriously Sammy, what's your problem? Do I need to leave?" To anyone else, this would have sounded rude, but Sam knew Dean was serious. His eyes were narrowed slightly, and he was gesturing to the door as if he expected Sam to kick him out. Sam felt his anger evaporate, leaving him feeling a little guilty about the lukewarm reception that he gave his brother.

"No Dean, of course not," Sam said softly, shaking his head slightly. "I'm really glad you're here. It's been a while, yeah?" Dean gave him a once-over, but fell back into their easy comradery fairly quickly.

"Yeah Sammy, how long has it been since you last visited? Fifteen months?" Dean took a swig of his beer, looking at Sam over the edge of the bottle.

"About, yeah." It was quiet for a while before Sam stood and schlepped Dean's bag onto his shoulder. "C'mon, I'll show you to your room."

The pizza was all but devoured as Dean glared at Sam from across the box. Anticipating one another, they both dove for the last slice at once and ended up head-butting. Sam fell away gripping his forehead, but Dean sat back, victoriously downing the cheesy confection. Sam shuffled back into his chair, groaning.

"You have the hardest head…" Sam was still wincing and just beginning to open his eyes, "I think I actually saw stars…" he mused as Dean winked at him.

"You always were the softer brother Sammy."

"If you say so." Sam finally removed his hand from his face, and Dean grimaced when he saw a red splotch already blossoming on his brother's forehead.

"That's gonna leave a mark." Dean cracked open another beer and tossed one to Sam as well. His brother held it up to his bruise instead of drinking it. "So, what have you been up to?" Dean asked, and something passed through Sam's eyes in that moment, making Dean wonder if he really wanted to hear the answer to that question.

"Not much," Sam answered cryptically, slugging back his beer.

"How's that paralegal job working out for you?" Dean probed, but once again, Sam was less than forthcoming with his answer.

"Good."

"That's it?"

"They talked about making me partner in a few years if all goes well, but you already knew that," Sam added on, and Dean pressed the cool bottle to his lips.

"Yeah, guess I did," he replied before taking a drink. It was silent around them, almost uncomfortably so, but Dean tried not to focus on that. He was picking at the edge of the label on his bottle, his mind entirely on Cas. He didn't know how to bring it up to Sam, though. He didn't want it to seem as if he'd just come up because of him, even though he had. He was glad to see Sam as well, but this entire trip had been because he knew things weren't over between them, and he needed to either get some sort of closure, or convince Cas to take him back. He didn't know which one he was more afraid of.

"So…" he began, still intent on mangling the soggy label, "any other news I should know about?" Dean asked, and Sam's face slackened, going into full panic mode. Dean's eyebrows creased together, and he stared in confusion at his brother. After a few seconds, and what looked to be some internal battle, Sam relaxed and shook his head.

"If you want to know about Cas, just ask," he said, and Dean didn't have to feign surprise. He felt his cheeks flame like he'd been caught in a lie, and he immediately began tripping over his words.

"I wasn't going to ask about him. I mean, if you want to tell me, that's fine, but I wasn't going to ask." Dean kept his head low, but flicked his eyes up to look at Sam, "But, he's okay though, right? I mean, since you brought him up." Dean sighed when the corner of Sam's mouth quirked upwards.

"Yeah Dean, he's fine."

"Good, good," he paused, "still teaching?" he inquired, still trying to maintain his indifferent façade.

"Yeah, they just offered him tenure."

"That's great," another pause, "he seeing anyone?" Dean dropped his gaze back to his bottle, but his eyes began to wander when Sam didn't answer. "Sam?" Sam's gaze seemed a bit out of focus, but when Dean said his name, he snapped back to attention.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam responded, and Dean cleared his throat.

"I…uh…asked if he was seeing anyone." Dean looked shyly up at his brother, and Sam sighed.

"No Dean, he's not seeing anyone."

"Oh…well…" he trailed off, but couldn't keep the smile from cracking his face.

There was hope after all.

AN: Chapter three, time for a contest. For those of you who followed my author's notes in All's Fair, you may remember the comment I made regarding Misha's dick sucking abilities. Well, as one awesome reviewer pointed out, he has actually admitted to/showed that he was able to basically fellate himself. The first person to find me this video (either the actual act or just him talking about it) and PM me a direct link will get their very own 5,000 word one-shot based off a prompt you give me. Ready, set…and go!