... And Then It's Not

"I still can't believe Cas is back from Purgatory." Sam exclaims. He hasn't said a word about the scene he walked in on last night, but that talk has to happen eventually, and they both know it. Dean frowns at his breakfast and mumbles "Yeah, me neither" obligatorily.

"I'm kinda miffed that he didn't even say 'hi' to me before bailing, but I'd be embarrassed too if-"

"Shut up." Dean snaps. He could practically hear the smirk in Sam's voice. He stabs his eggs to parallel just how much he wants to stab Sam right now, hoping Sam gets the symbolism. A diner breakfast is not enough of a bribe to make Dean want to talk about last night. Not to anyone, and especially not to his brother. Cas' grace-given dopamine high that Dean's been feeding with alcohol has long since crashed, leaving in its wake one sour, crotchety, confused Dean Winchester. But Sammy isn't gonna let it drop; the resolution in his face is all too familiar. Dean sighs and his fork clatters onto the plate over-dramatically, earning an equally dramatic eye-roll from Sam.

"What the hell d'you want me to say, huh? You saw what you saw. You can put two-and-two together."

Sam draws his eyebrows in and quirks them upward, the universal symbol for 'not buying your bullshit'. "Yeah, but it'd be nice to hear you fess up for once." When Dean responds by purposefully shoving a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, Sam flashes him the Winchester Bitchface. "Dude, c'mon, you can't keep this crap bottled up. You know what happens. I'm not gonna stop asking 'til you tell me."

"You want the truth, fine: we kissed, okay?" Dean blurts out - making sure no one else was close enough to hear - because there's really no better way to say it than to just come right out with it. Rip the bandaid off fast and painless. Plus, he kinda enjoys Sam's stunned expression for the few seconds it lasts, before it's replaced by a failed attempt at a poker face. Dean can't help himself: "What's the matter, Sammy? Diner food make you constipated?" Sam's unwillingness to play along turns the joke stale in the air between them. His cheeky grin deflates.

"I didn't think you'd actually- Wow, okay. So, you kissed." Sam echoes in slight disbelief, and hearing it in someone else's voice suddenly brings it into reality, as if he hadn't been thinking about it in terms of him and Cas until now. "Yes, we kissed." They kissed. "He poofed into the room like he friggin' owned the place, like Purgatory had been just a- a bad vacation. Then we-" Cas kissed him. "Then, he kissed me." Dean Winchester and Castiel Angel-of-the-Lord had made out like it was prom night. Huh.

Sam struggles to find words to say after that. What is he supposed to say? How is he even supposed to respond to Dean telling him that he locked lips with an angel- in a man's body? Analyzing Dean's scowl brings him to ask the question that he knows is on his brother's mind: "Did you... like it?" Dean's eyebrows draw in and his nose crinkles in revulsion. "No! I mean, it wasn't- No! The hell is wrong with you? I don't even want to be talking about this." He hates the amusement in Sam's apologetic smile. "It's not like that! He went all gung-ho on me, and it just happened. How do you say 'no' to an angel?"

"'No' is a pretty good start."

"You know what? Screw you."

Sam draws in a deep breath and tried not to laugh outright - doing that had gone badly for him yesterday. Dean is at the point where he's finally realizing something about his feelings- or he would be, if he wasn't such a hardass when it came to emotional problems. Sam wants him to acknowledge whatever this is. He does. It would be the healthiest thing Dean's ever done. But he also knows that Dean has a true talent for burying his emotions under booze and work. Still, it can't hurt to try. "So you... didn't like it?"

He'd liked it a little bit. No, no! He's Dean Winchester, ladies' man, dammit! 'Cas is a dude. His vessel is a dude. Oh God, Jimmy.' Was Jimmy still in there? It seems unlikely after everything Cas has put that body through, but the thought still makes Dean sick to his stomach. 'And Cas is an angel! Angels don't- do they?' If not, Cas is certainly an exception. Cas had been aggressive, yet gentle: aggressively gentle? Is that a real thing? It must be, because that's the only way Dean can think to describe it. Aggressively gentle had turned him on, just a little. 'What the hell is happening to me?'

Dean must've had this conflict plastered all over his face: Sam is gaping at him. "You did like it."

That's enough of that. Dean pulls his wallet out, throws a twenty on the table to pay for breakfast, and stands up. "We're done. Let's go." he commands. Sam looks up at him challengingly and makes no motion to follow. "Oh, I'm sorry: take your time, princess. I'll wait in the car." Dean does just that, ignoring whatever his brother is about to say in favor of escaping to the impala. He eases into the driver's side with a groan, slams the door shut with more force than is necessary. Massages his entire face with both hands. 'Why is Cas doing this to me?' is one of the dozens of questions that's running marathons in his skull right now.

Sam continues eating his breakfast, and takes some of the leftovers from Dean's plate - shame on him for wasting food. A small part of him wants to believe that he'd totally seen this coming: Cas always seemed to like Dean just a bit more. Well, he talked to Dean more, stood just a bit closer to him, and stared at him more often and for uncomfortably long periods of time. Plus, Dean hasn't been big on the one-night-stands since he got back from Purgatory, and Sam thought that after an entire year, he'd be all over his favorite pastime. That's what happened when Dean got back from Hell. Maybe this time, Cas happened instead. Then again, his disinterest could also be taken as a sign that he's finally matured somewhat. Or changed. Dean has definitely changed.

Sam snaps out of this particular line of thought when the morning news, playing on the small TV behind the counter, catches his attention: a high school senior found dead in his room, ruled a suicide. His name was Raul Alvarez. Wait. Narcissistic rich boy Raul, the sometimes-boyfriend of the girl who'd been killed by that Crocotta. The Crocotta he and Dean had taken care of only yesterday. Sam gets the feeling they've missed something huge here. He's out of his seat in a flash, rushing to inform Dean that maybe they didn't do their job as well as they thought.

|\/|\/|

Castiel steps forward on the pavement in front of the diner, sliding into visibility - which goes unnoticed by the inattentive human passersby. He stares at the parking spot where the impala had rested not a minute earlier. 'I'm sorry', he wants to say, knowing it would be pointless because the intended recipient is absent. He whispers it anyway and then vanishes into the sky in a swift flurry of wings.

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A note thing: Welp, this chappie is much shorter than the last, but hey, I'm letting them start and end wherever they feel natural. And look- actual plot! I was surprised too, believe me. I'm really liking this slice-of-life style because it allows me a certain freedom to explore how characters would think and speak. It might be difficult to read at first, since I'm blending the narratorial styles of whatever characters are present in the scene, but I have faith that you'll get used to it! Okay, so I'll sign off here before the note thing gets longer than the actual fic. Lemme know what you think so far!