Title: Nothing Easy
Theme/Topic: "The constant eye-sex always drove Sam crazy. He thought it would stop when Dean and Cas started having actual sex. It didn't."
Character/Pairing/s: Sam, DeanxCas
Spoilers/Warnings: Through S7 kind of? IDK.
Word Count: 1,215
Summary: Sam's life is hard.
Dedication: for wallmakerrelict's request on the WAFFathon 2012 thread!
A/N: Written in the thirty minutes I had while waiting for my ride to pick me up for volleyball. Original post here. Since edited. LOL
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
Okay, it's not like he thought the idea of Dean and Cas finally giving in to their epic romance and making out would make his life easy or anything—Sam's optimistic, sure, but not that optimistic— but at the very least he thought it might at least make things a little easier, if only because he would no longer have to deal with the thick, UST-laden air surrounding his brother and his brother's ex-angel in between all the other parts of his life that mainly consist of fighting, killing, eating greasy food, and passing through numerous terrifying small towns where he is pretty sure the town charters still say it's okay to marry your sister.
The thing is, sitting between them (or across from them, or alongside them, or anywhere within ten feet of them) back before they had been a thing (for lack of better word) had been singularly frustrating. Sam had bravely fought off the manful urge to grab the backs of both their heads and smoosh their faces together on more than several occasions, particularly whenever one of their eye-fucking contests got to the point where it made families with small children uncomfortable or tempted rednecks to grab pitchforks and form posses. Back then, the logical, rational, self-preservationist part of Sam's brain had been sure that it was one of their (admittedly) many problems that could easily be fixed, if only Dean would man up and Cas would educate himself a little more thoroughly on what it meant to be human and what those tingly feelings in his pants really were. At the time, Sam had been convinced that if only Dean and Cas would get together, it would save a good chunk of whatever remained of his sanity post-Hell.
Sam now knows better.
Sam now knows that Dean and Cas making out really hasn't helped make anything easier at all. In true Winchester fashion, it's really only making his life harder.
Before, it had only been an irritating— but acceptable— case of "I know you like him, I know he likes you" that Sam had to deal with.
Now, it's an enormous clusterfuck of "I know you know I know you like him and I know he knows that I know you know he likes you back." Somehow, none of that knowledge has stopped the staring contests at all. In fact, it has just made the staring contests impossibly heavier between them somehow, makes them feel even more laden with innuendo than they'd ever been before. For Sam.
Sam thinks the "I know you know that I know what you are thinking right now and I know you both know that you don't care that I know" part is what makes it the worst.
In any case, the eye-fucking continues, except now, at the end of the day, Sam also knows that it will inevitably lead to actual fucking, which his brain does not need on top of all the fighting, killing, greasy food and small town horrors they also have to deal with on a daily basis.
Such is his life.
Tonight, after said fighting and killing is done, they once again finds themselves in the midst of lots of greasy food deep in the heart of terrifying rural America. It makes sense, because this is what they do. Sam, however, is the only one of the party who also finds himself the awkward third-wheel to one side of his brother and his brother's former angel as the three of them sit, stuffed in a crappy vinyl-covered diner booth. Dean and Cas look soulfully at each other from across the table and don't seem to notice how disgusting it or the food is. Dean does something obscene with his peperoncino. Possibly unconsciously, but also possibly not.
Castiel's nostrils flare slightly in response and he shifts in the seat next to Sam, which probably means the ex-angel is doing something even more obscene to Dean under the table with his feet. Sam is deeply uncomfortable.
Sam also gets an age-old sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and looks over his shoulder into the diner proper, where he quickly spies an uncomfortable young couple determinedly holding their hands over the eyes of their two small, obviously curious, children. In the foreground, a group of deeply countrified gentlemen seems to have gathered by the counter in order to consider the merits of a posse on a school night. Sam wants to bang his head on the table because it is the same damn story every freaking time.
His life is just fated to take the path of most resistance or something, he thinks, as he grabs the unused butter knife from his place setting and silently prepares to fight his way out of town should posse indeed be formed.
In the meantime, Sam tries to glare at Dean in warning because this is totally his fault, but as he does, the idea of glaring in general is suddenly and violently derailed when Sam catches the way his brother's mouth is curled up into this easy smile that should almost be impossible after everything they've been through. It's echoed in blue of the former angel's eyes sitting across from him and holds as fast as their staring does.
That is when Sam actually bangs his head on the table.
Back before Dean and Cas had gotten to wherever they are now, Sam had always believed that the two of them getting together would make things so much easier for everyone.
It hasn't, and in retrospect, that was probably his bad for even thinking something like that.
Because in reality, it has actually made things a lot more complicated, in terms of posse and curious children and Sam's knowing too much and probably in some other stuff too, like Dean's sudden and inexplicable agreeableness when it comes to indulging Castiel in his new found love of musicals, for example.
But then again, even with all the added complication around it, at its heart, it has also made things so much happier. At least, if that smile on Dean's face means anything (and it does, it really does).
Sam eventually sighs and slips out of the diner booth with a simple grunt of "bathroom," over his shoulder. He also slides the butter knife up his sleeve. Just in case.
Dean and Cas make absent sounds at him and don't actually look away from each other for a second as he stalks off to the other side of the restaurant.
Sam just shakes his head at them and supposes that his life and easy were never meant to be. But when he thinks about Dean smiling with his mouth and Cas smiling with his eyes, maybe easy is overrated anyway.
Sam goes over to the countrified gentlemen at the counter and looks properly menacing at them all. It's not hard.
From there, posse is happily thwarted, the uncomfortable couple pays their ticket and drags their children home because it's a week night, and Dean's smile never falters for a minute, even as he does increasingly obscene things to his garnishes through the course of the meal.
Sam thinks it's completely gross, but at the same time, he's sure he wouldn't have it any other way.