Thanks to my reviewers! You asked for longer chapters, you will get longer chapters! [: Well. You should, at least. I've already written several of them but I'm expanding them to make them longer than just little drabbles. Hope you enjoy!
On Sunday, Cas goes over to Sam's apartment to watch the football game. It's not the best experience. It starts with Dean answering the door silently and staring Cas down (silently) before turning around and walking back into the living room (silently). Sam waves at Cas from inside the apartment and smiles.
"Glad you could make it," he says as he takes the bag of chips Cas is holding. "We're out of beer, but we have Coke."
"Oh, I could have brought some," Cas offers.
"No, no!" Sam shouts from the kitchen. "Would've been a bother, Cas, no big deal."
"Kind of a big deal," Dean says grouchily.
Sam has come back into the living room and throws Dean a face, to which Dean responds with another face, and just as Cas is starting to feel like he's really intruding on this silent conversation, Dean throws his hands up and gets off the couch. "I'm going outside," he says.
"Those things are gonna kill you," Sam says to his retreating back.
"Good a thing as any," Dean retorts, and leaves. He stays outside until the first down, and when he comes back in Cas smells cigarette smoke.
Sam's phone rings after the game is over and they're still snacking on the leftover Doritos. "Hey, Jess!" he says excitedly, and then mouths sorry at Cas as he leaves the apartment. Cas smiles and listens to Dean shuffling around in the kitchen. He crumples up the various chip bags on the coffee table and pads quietly into the room. Dean is facing away from him, loading dirty plates into the dishwasher, and humming to himself. Cas thinks he hears The Beatles. Cas takes a deep breath.
"Dean?" Dean jumps and turns around. The humming stops.
"What?" Cas winces at the sharpness in his tone. He clears his throat.
"Please don't blame me for Sam not speaking to you," he says, shifting the chips back and forth between his hands.
"Are we really doing this right now?"
"And please know that it wasn't because he didn't love you."
Dean snorts. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
"He talked about you a lot," Cas says. "He always cared about you."
"Did Sam tell you why I'm here?" Dean asks suddenly. The sudden change of direction unbalances Cas and he shakes his head. Dean turns back to the sink. "'Course not."
"Why are you here then?"
A glass bangs on the counter where Dean slams it down. "Why don't you ask Sam?" he says bitterly.
Cas moves to the trashcan. "I'd rather hear it from you," he says.
Dean stares at him. "Why?"
Cas shrugs. "I like getting my information first-hand."
"Can't be accused of gossiping?"
"First-hand is easier to grasp."
"I'll bet."
"What?"
Dean turns around suddenly and Cas makes a mental note that the trashcan is much nearer the sink than he previously thought it was. Hmm. Dean looks down at him and opens his mouth like he's about to answer but doesn't speak, just stares. Cas holds his breath. Because of the cigarette smell. That's all.
"I think you should go," Dean says. It's quiet, but it's a challenge. Cas nods. Neither of them look away. The front door bangs open and closed, and Sam asks where the chips went. Cas takes one step backwards, then another, then turns and walks out of the apartment with a dazed goodbye to Sam.