Mint and apricots

15. Foolish months

- 4th October 2009, Sam's place -

Sam had zoned out. He was standing motionless on the doorstep of what had been his bedroom for more than two years and, oblivious to all the hubbub surrounding him – including the very explicit blasphemy Dean shouted when a pan fell on his foot and Cas's consequent reprimand – he was now drifting away, following memories. This was the place where he had cried for his father, so many times that he had lost count. It had been his safe haven after the nights out with his brother, the ones for which, according to Dean, they were now too old. That was the bed where he and Luc had made love for the first time.

"Sam, don't you have any boxes for books already? I found some more in the bathroom."

Sam winced, then spun around to the source of that distraction. Cas was a few paces further back, in the corridor, with six or seven novels in his arms and his gaze fixed on him, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I do," he pondered, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before leading his brother-in-law back into the living area and pointing to one of the few still open cardboard boxes. "There should be some room in that one."

"Thank you," Cas nodded, crouching in front of him to position the volumes. Sam was wondering what area of the house was left to scout when he noticed the little smile that had spread over his brother-in-law's face. "Anyway, it must be almost lunchtime. Dean is starting to show signs of nervousness."

In the Winchester house it was customary to refer to Dean's appetite as if it were the hunger of a fickle child, and Cas hadn't taken long to adopt the same custom. Unlike Dean's original family, he found it a source of tenderness.

Sam glanced at his brother and deduced that his brother-in-law must had come to that realization at least half an hour before, because Dean had reached the point of hitting plates and pans on the shelf next to the stove with a homicidal expression on his face. Sam thought that perhaps Castiel had tried to inform him before the situation worsened, but he had found him too absorbed in the clearing of the bedroom. Given all the emotions Sam had to face to pass that test, it seemed likely.

"Seems right to me," Sam finally recognized, putting aside the melancholy to thank Cas for the help and patience with a smile and a pat on the back. "I had in mind to get some takeaway, if that's okay for you too. Pizza, Chinese or hamburger and fries? We have everything close enough. What would you like best, Dean?" he added, turning to his brother after intercepting Cas's eloquent glance.

Dean didn't even turn around. Instead, he went on stacking glasses. He mumbled a few words, but neither his husband nor Sam understood a single one of them.

"Excuse me? I didn't catch that."

Again, Dean persevered in turning his back on him.

"I said I'd rather spend my Sunday in any other way than filling these damned boxes," he repeated louder, then turned to look for an empty box and completely ignored the stunned looks he was receiving.

As anyone of them could have foreseen, Cas's warning tone was not long in coming.

"Dean."