Mint and apricots

16. Best intentions

It was Christmas Eve and Sam felt like he was about to burst. Sitting backwards on the chair which was closest to the window in Dean and Castiel's dining room, he was staring at the screen of his laptop, getting more nervous every minute he spent looking for words with which to fill the still white Word page.

Needless to say, Charlie's strategy of making him keep a diary was proving to be an immense dead end. Sam didn't feel any better at the thought of throwing up the bland content of his days on a file. Just as his mood did not improve when, looking up from the keyboard, he saw Cas in the kitchen, intent on shredding carrots and celery and stirring minced meat for that evening's menu – the studio would have stayed closed for the holidays until New Year, saving Sam from another chat with Charlie, but his brother-in-law was there, just in case. Sam felt suffocated by the idea that Cas could see him as one of his patients now, a case to analyze him through the lens of psychotherapy.

In a vain attempt to distract himself, the boy moved the cursor of the laptop to land on the Whatsapp Web page that he kept constantly open. There too, no satisfaction. The last message he had received had arrived that morning, at dawn, and was from Donna. It contained only the umpteenth wishes for a Merry Christmas and happy holidays, since the university library would also have remained closed for a few days.

Sam hadn't replied. After the initial anger, in the last few days her colleague had started talking to him again, but she always had such a pitying expression on her face that Sam wanted to scream. The young man suspected that Dean had called her. And he was damned tired of his brother discussing about him behind his back, presenting his situation as he liked best.

At least in his presence, however, Dean and Castiel had calmed down. In their own small way, they seemed to be content with never having received news of Luc and of no longer seeing Sam rushing into hiding to read his messages. Yes, because Sam had not received anymore. The roses, however, had continued to arrive on time, one a day, in his locker in the library. But no more words, not even a ticket. It was one of the reasons Sam felt so close to the edge.

The more he tried to cling to the promise not to disappoint Dean, the more he realized how much he missed Luc. On the other hand, did he not live in close contact with a couple who lacked nothing? Not a day passed without Sam noticing the little aspects that made Dean and Castiel's relationship wonderful. Cas moved Dean's cup every morning, as soon as he, distracted by the news, placed it too close to the edge of the table. Dean picked up the socks that Cas scattered on the floor of their bedroom, without complaining. Dean who, once Cas fell asleep on him on the sofa, in the evening, moved with the circumspection of a cat to be able to spread a blanket on his husband's curled up body without waking him. Cas who, despite wanting Dean to grow a beard, always made sure he could find a new bottle of his favorite aftershave lotion in the bathroom cabinet.

Those were gestures that they themselves considered tiny, customary, but that helped to bring them closer to the point of igniting Sam with envy, at times. More and more, lately. What Dean and Cas had seemed to push Sam to go back, even more so. Why could they live their love and he could not? What if Luc had stopped writing to him because he was losing his patience? What if he had understood he didn't want anything more to do with Sam because he was acting like a capricious kid?

It was half past two in the afternoon, Cas had just finished putting the dinner crockery in place and Sam could not stop the cumbersome flow of thoughts, when the lock on the front door clicked and Dean appeared in the doorway to throw the wet with snow umbrella in the special basket next to the entrance. At the same time, he placed a compact suitcase just in front of him.

"Finally home," he snorted, quickly taking off his coat as he cleared the passage. "What a heavy traffic."

Immediately a crystalline laugh rang out behind him.