what if i said i liked you (and i always have)

Communication is Key

"I was there, Dean," Sam said, again. "I heard everything. And- and I've never forgiven myself for not doing something to stop what Dad did."

Dean shook his head, trying not to cry. "Don't you dare blame yourself for what that bastard did to me. Don't you dare."

"But Dean, I-"

"Sam. I raised you better than that. Bobby raised you better than that. What he did to us, what he did to me; it's not our fault."

A tear fell down Dean's cheek. He didn't move to wipe it away. His little brother watched him from across their kitchen table. His brother, twenty-five years old, crying in front of him. Sam remembered something Dean had told him when they were just kids: "It's okay to cry, Sammy. Everyone has to cry. Crying is how the bad feelings get out of your head. You gotta let them out or they'll make your head feel all funny and sick. You can cry. I'm right here."

"Dean."

Dean closed his eyes, and pressed the heels of his hands against them. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his stomach that was threatening to make him sick.

"I'm sorry I never told you."

Sam stood up. He moved his chair to sit next to Dean. He felt better when they were side by side, like when they had to share a seatbelt in the Impala as kids. He put a hand on his big brother's shoulder.

"You don't have to apologize for that."

"Sam, I'm bi."

Dean opened his eyes, finally able to look at his brother. Sam was smiling at him, pride lighting up his face.

"I'm glad you feel like you can tell me that," he said.

"And I've had a stupid teenage-girl crush on Cas since we met him," Dean said with a laugh. It was almost absurd to be telling Sam this, when he most certainly had been able to tell for three years.

"Yeah, about that," Sam started, moving back across the table, for safety. "I accidentally read your journal to Cas. We thought it was just for recipes."

"You what?" Dean yelled. "Is that why Cas has been gone all day? He knows I like him?"

"Well, we didn't know if it was him you were talking about-"

"Who the hell else would I be talking about?"

"Fuck if I know, Dean! I just know he's freaked the hell out."

Dean groaned. "What the fuck, man."

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled.

"It's whatever. This just isn't how I planned for him to find out."

Sam thought for a moment. "It doesn't have to be."

"What?"

"It doesn't have to be." Sam stood up, and began pacing around the room. It bugged Dean to no end. "He doesn't know for sure, and you would have to confirm it anyway. You can still do it your way!"

"Yeah, but Sammy," Dean said. "What if he doesn't like me back? Just because the guy's gay that doesn't mean he'd like some jackass like me."

Sam shrugged. He was obviously hiding something but Dean let it go. "I don't know, man. I think you should just talk to him. I have a feeling it'll go better than you think."

"Fine." Dean got up, Sam's pacing making him anxious. "But not until after he applies to Stanford. I won't let this little situation mess up the plan."

Sam threw his hands up, exasperated. "You two-"

"Just-" Dean put a hand out. "Let me do this my way. Please."

Sam nodded. Of course he would never tell Cas until Dean was ready. It's just-