Bring It On Home- A Destiel AU [COMPLETED]

Chapter 21

"I can't believe he asked you into his house," Dean said, leading Sam up to the guest room. "I didn't see the inside of that place for weeks."

"Well, I didn't see the whole place, he just took me upstairs." Sam heaved his suitcase off of its tiny plastic wheels and dragged it up the steps.

Dean paused, his hand on the newel post. "Upstairs?"

"Get out of the way," Sam grunted, pushing past Dean. Finally he wrangled the heavy thing safely onto the hallway carpeting.

"He didn't..." Dean looked a little green, almost grave. "Nothing weird happened, did it?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "He didn't crack open the hypodermic needles and load me up on heroin, if that's what you're asking. And I didn't steal any of his shit. Like I could fit a framed photograph under my shirt..."

Dean walked slowly down the hall. "He's really a photographer?"

"Yup." Sam rolled his suitcase to the guest room and unzipped it. "You should really go see for yourself. By the way, where were you?"

"I was out of milk, I had to go pick some up," Dean answered absently, picking his fingernails. "What does he photograph?"

"Landscapes, mostly. But he's working on a big project..." Sam sighed. "Like I said, you should really go see it. I can't really do it justice." He pulled a fresh shirt out of his suitcase and paused. "He's a cool guy. I can see why you like him."

Dean gazed at Sam, his face guarded and unreadable. "What did you guys talk about?"

Sam shrugged and yanked off his shirt. "Stuff."

Dean just kept gazing. "What kind of stuff?"

Sam stared back at Dean. "I don't know, Dean. Stuff! We talked about his psychic aura mumbo jumbo."

Dean made a sarcastic huff. "Uh huh. What color did he say you are?"

Sam pulled on the clean shirt and mumbled, "Purple or indigo or something like that. Whatever that means."

Dean smirked bitterly. "Right. Well, I'm glad you two are such great BBFs. Now you can have yoga parties and pick out china together."

Sam rolled his eyes. "For the love of - Dean, cut it out."

"Cut what out?" he asked innocently.

"The jealous boyfriend routine," Sam shot back. "You're acting like we're ten years old and I just took your spot in Cas's treehouse. I was sitting outside in the cold, alright? He invited me in. What else was he supposed to do? Break into your house? He probably only did it because he's such good friends with you! So stop being so freaking possessive. Christ."

Dean flushed red and shook his head and rolled his eyes, like Sam was saying nonsense. "Not possessive," he muttered.

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. "Please. Dean. I know you don't have very many friends, but seriously. It's okay if your friend is nice to someone other than you. You're not dating."

Dean turned and walked out of the room, saying as he left, "Thank God for that. There aren't enough healing energy crystals in the world to make that one sane."

For some reason, that struck something inside of Sam, and he poked his head out into the hall. "Dean."

Dean stopped and looked at him.

"I... I don't think he's actually crazy," he said, feeling a soft twisting in his chest like a cloth napkin being wrung by anxious hands. "I think he just wants to be. And - I think maybe you should have a talk with him."

Dean frowned. "About what?"

Sam sighed and rested his head against the door frame. "You're not gonna like this, or... maybe you won't believe me... but frankly, Dean? It seems like he has feelings for you. I know you said he was kind of flirty when you first met, but. It's more than that."

Dean didn't say anything. He just folded his mouth inward and looked away at the wall.

"I'm not trying to freak you out!" Sam added hastily. "And I'm not trying to come between you! It doesn't have to ruin your friendship. Trust me, you can still be friends. It's just - you need to make sure that he knows how you feel, before it gets awkward. Because I'm not sure he doesknow. And you owe it to him to - you know - sort of break it to him before it goes too far."

Dean inhaled deeply. "Believe me, Sam. Cas and I have already had that conversation. Don't worry about it, alright? This isn't junior high. He's an adult. I'm an adult. We can be adults about these things. So just - leave it."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "But Dean -"

"I said leave it!" Dean snapped, his nostrils flaring.

Sam froze for a moment, then slowly pivoted and went back into his room. "Asshole," he muttered.

"I heard that!"

"Douche-canoe! Did you hear that one?"

"You're the douche-canoe, Sam! You are!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over all the rampaging bullshit. What were you saying?"

"You know what? I'm too old for this. This right here? This is juvenile."

"Your face is juvenile."

"I'm serious, Sam. I'm not stooping to your level anymore." Dean walked down the stairs.

"I'd be the one doing the stooping!" Sam called after him.

Silence.

Sam sighed inwardly. He guessed that Dean really was right, they were too old to -

"Just because I'm shorter than YOU doesn't make me SHORT!" Dean shouted. "You have some kinda fuckin' GLANDULAR problem, alright? You're a freak of nature!"

"I'm the freak? I'm the freak! Says the guy who spent SEVEN DOLLARS on the Magic Fingers in ONE NIGHT in that shitty motel in Missouri -"

"Oh, don't even START with the Magic Fingers!"