#sammyknows

Garth: Well, I had already decided on Castiel's name, so...

Dean: And?

Garth:

Sam:

Dean:

Garth: Aren't the two of you dating yet?

Sam saw it, plain as day. Not that it had ever been difficult to deduce.

He saw it when they looked at each other. He saw it on Dean’s face when Cas came back from Purgatory. He knew by the dirty trenchcoat Dean kept in his car when he thought Cas was dead. He heard it in Dean’s desperate prayers to Cas. He heard it in Cas’s voice the moment he found out that Dean was freed of the mark. Then there was the parallel Cain made, between Cas and Colette; Dean had tried not to make it sound that way when he told him, but Sam wasn’t an idiot. Cain had likened the meaning of Cas to Dean to his love for Colette. Cas was Dean’s Colette.

It was all there. The way their eyes lingered on one another when the other wasn’t looking. An angel was in love with his brother, and his brother loved him back. He knew by the look. He knew, because that’s how he had looked at Jess.

Sam never hinted to Dean that he knew, other than a few suggestive glances, which earned him a sock in the shoulder or an earnest “Shut up, Sammy”. But he knew that his brother was in love.

So it was no surprise when Cas went to leave that morning, rambling on about finding Lucifer in his new vessel, that Dean had looked worried about him. Sam happened to turn around on the way back to the kitchen to find Dean gently touching Cas’s forearm, overheard him saying “Be careful, we need you” in the gentlest tone his gruff voice allowed. 

Sam watched his brother embrace his angel, squeezing him tightly as Cas closed his eyes peacefully, his chin resting on Dean’s shoulder. He watched Dean place a chaste kiss on Cas’s cheek as he pulled away, Cas’s blue eyes squinted in both shock and confusion as Dean walked away, pausing only briefly on the way back to the kitchen when he noticed that Sam was watching them, then avoiding Sam’s eyes as he pushed past him into the kitchen. Then Cas was gone.

Sam saw Dean sitting at the table, blush fading from his cheeks as he scrubbed his face nervously. “Jesus, Sam, what?!” He barks defensively.

Sam wants to tease him. He wants to say he knew all along. He wants to say he’s happy for his brother, who has never quite had the love he truly deserves. He wants to tell him he’s glad that he’s finally opened his heart for someone else to see. He wants to say that he’s glad that Dean could finally admit his love for the angel who has loved him, unconditionally, for 8 years. 

So many things Sam wants to say, but instead, he gives a small smile, turning his attention back to the newspaper on the table.