Look at me (Destiel)

Look at me

He paused indecisively in the doorway.

Sam was in the process of pouring water into the coffee maker, so his back was to him, but Dean was pretty sure he must have heard him coming. He hadn't bothered to be stealthy at all, and Sammy would have had to be a damn poor hunter to have missed the footsteps coming down the concrete hallway, which had a hell of an echo in it. Still, he didn't turn around. He didn't let on that he even knew about Dean. He didn't say anything, he didn't say hello, he didn't even holler, he just went about his business.

He's been like this for a bloody week! Seven days since everything about him and Cas and things between them... just since it all blew up in the worst possible way, because like, really? A curse ala Sleeping Beauty, spread by the ghost of a sixteen year old chasing all over town on a super fast highway of rosehip bushes that could only be broken with a 'true love kiss'. A casual kiss... and an admission that they'd been sleeping together for a few weeks. Yeah, Dean could totally picture angel's face and that damn compelling, deep voice of his saying 'You know, Sam, Dean and I have been in a romantic, sexual relationship for weeks now.

Why did even the nice things in his life have to get so fucking complicated right away.

"Hey," he added, summoning the courage to greet his brother.

Sam gave him a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Hey," he replied simply, getting back to what he was doing. Nothing more, just a sort of humming without interest.

Slowly he walked over to the table and so closer to Sam. He stopped behind his back and watched him while he waited to see if he would say anything else. But he didn't. He just stayed damn silent. Like he had all this time. They'd met in the hallways, in the library, in the kitchen, but they'd passed each other by because his brother had nothing more than a greeting for him.

"Are you never going to talk to me again or what?" He asked, his voice carefully controlled because he feared he could hear the anxiety that choked him like a hangman's noose.

"I'm talking to you. Actually, I'm talking to you right now," Sam replied, turning on the drip and moving a little to the side of the bag of beets. He did it as if nothing had happened at all and talking to Dean like he was some kind of stranger was perfectly normal.

Only it fucking wasn't! This whole thing was... his nightmare, the fear that had kept him from Sam for so long, keeping the thing that made him truly happy... keeping Case... this nightmare had just come true. And as much as he'd convinced himself that Sam, his damn understanding little brother, wouldn't mind, he'd been wrong. What he feared had happened had happened. He was now, in his eyes, some weak faggot who didn't deserve more than a few terse sentences. Exactly how most hunters and friends would view him...

A hot rush of anger ran down his back, taking all the angst of the last few days with it.

He clenched his fist.

"All bullshit, huh?" he asked gruffly.

He'd finally earned Sam's full attention.

"What are you talking about?" He asked as he turned to Dean, looking him squarely in the face for the first time in a long time.

"About all your talk of tolerance and the fucking rainbow badge on your bag and all that. You're just a plain hypocrite! That's what you are!"

"You... ah... you're calling me homophobic?!" Sam asked, genuinely shocked.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying!" He replied firmly.

"I... um... I," Sam fell silent and shook his head, lips pressed together in one of those expressions of his before he briefly slid his gaze away and after ruffling his hair he looked straight at Dean again. "I don't know whether to punch you or start laughing because... You," he took a half step forward and threw his hands up, "you think I mind you sleeping with Cas because he's a guy?"