This has chapter has been edited.

Then there was the third time it happened, Dean mused to himself. That was the time Sam almost caught them.

It was a few days before the 'Diner Incident' as Sam would later dub it in his head, and Dean was shutting him out, as usual. Sam would never understand why his brother would get so wound up, but wouldn't just talk to him. Lately though, Dean had been even more snappy, more strung out. He blew up at the drop of a hat, and of course Sam was forced to deal with it. He hated it; he hated walking around on eggshells for fear of projectiles aimed for his head. They were staying at Bobby's for the moment, waiting. Even more strange was Dean's reaction whenever Castiel was around. Dean would either leave the room abruptly with some lame excuse, or he would alternate between giving him the cold shoulder and staring at him intensely.

Sam had decided that he had enough after Dean had left the room again with the excuse of having to go brush his teeth. For the third time that day. Sam watched Dean stalk off down the hall and, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Castiel was still enthralled in his conversation with Bobby, he slipped out of the room quietly to follow. He watched his brother duck into the guest room on the right. Sam padded softly behind him, thankful he had taken off his shoes. When he reached the room he tried the door, but it was locked. He raised his hand to knock when he heard a soft moan come through the door. He shook his head and chuckled quietly. Really? He thought to himself. He must be really desperate if he feels the need to masturbate three times a day. He began to walk back down the hall when he heard something the froze him in place, his stomach dropping somewhere that was not physically possible.

"Caaas…" It was Dean's voice again, he was sure of it. He spun around on his heel, in three quick strides he was at the door again, listening intently. He didn't want to, but he had to make sure that he was hearing things. There was no way his totally heterosexual brother just moaned out a male's name. No, scratch that, a male angel's name. Right?

"Castiel, I hope you can hear me right now because I'm friggin prayin'."

Sam was horrified. He reached up and banged on the door with his right hand before he thought better of it. "Dean!" He shouted through the door. Total silence echoed around him from everywhere at once. Of course Dean would have a good reason for that, as weird as it was. He heard the locking mechanism on the door click and it opened, revealing a sliver of Dean's face.

"I'm a little busy." Dean said with a smirk.

"Uh, no, you're not." Sam pushed his way into the room and past Dean. He did a quick sweep of the room to make sure they were alone before turning to face the shorter man, who had moved to stand beside the bed."I heard that, you know."

"Heard what?" Dean squeaked. Sam stowed that particular bit of bait in the back of his mind, focusing on the task at hand. In the years that would come following that moment though, Sam would occasionally bring up the squeak, guffawing loudly while Dean would swear up and down that he did not, in fact, squeak.

"I heard what you said. You want to tell me what's going on, or what?"

"Not," Dean paused, grabbing the nightstand beside him. "Really." He finished. Sweat was pooling above his brow and on the skin above his collarbone. He gave Sam a tight-lipped smile and gasped, his knees buckling.

"Dude, are you sick?"

"No Sam. I'm fine, or at least I would be if you would just leave." It was then that Sam noticed that his brother was trying, very poorly, to cover up a prominent bulge in his pants. Sam paused, slightly disgusted, uncomfortable, and unsure if he should continue. Unfortunately, his morbid curiosity would not allow him to leave, he silently cursed himself.

"Just tell me why I heard that." Sam rubbed his neck trying to will himself to repeat what he had heard. "See, I thought you were just – you know – enjoying some alone time." He began, having to talk over his brother's ragged breathing. "But then I heard you say 'Cas', and then you were praying to him when he's in the kitchen. I'm going to hate myself forever for this, but I just need to make sure that I'm going crazy, because that sounded like something bad, and yeah.." He trailed off, not wanting to think about it anymore as he took a deep breath in and waited.

"I didn't say his name. You were hearing things. And I just-just-just thought that I should try to get him in here, you know, to talk about a-angel stuff. Like - Would you just stop for a second?!"

"Stop what, Dean?" With that, Dean groaned quite loudly, eyes closing as he fell to his knees. "Dean?!" Sam said worriedly, all thoughts of his brother's odd behavior out of his mind. He knelt down and rested his hands on Dean's shoulders, ducking his head to look at his face. On closer inspection his face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and when he opened his eyes Sam watched his pupils go from dilated to normal in a matter of seconds, but Sam didn't think much of it.

"Listen, I'll just be out in a sec, okay? I just need to-uh- freshen up." He gave his best smile to Sam, who hesitated before getting up and walking out the door, all the while tossing worried looks over his shoulder. "I'm fine." As soon as the door was secure, Dean sighed and lifted up his hand, surveying the damage on his pants. "Son of a bitch." He muttered to himself. "These were clean too."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, while Bobby droned on about various types of guns, Castiel's right hand stopped moving and rested at his side, the hint of a smile on his lips.