Only Human

It was a perfectly normal Tuesday morning with slightly overcast skies and enough warmth to not be too chilly. At 8:25 sharp, Sam walked through the double doors into the children’s ward in Riverview Hospital. Passing the nurses’ coffee room, he nodded at the morning shift on their coffee break before he stepped into the office to check his schedule for the day. 

There were three new names on his list, and one he thought he had an appointment with was missing. ”What happened to Claus?” he asked Darla, the ward’s alpha secretary.

”He ripped his stitches last night,” Darla said, glancing at Sam over her glasses. ”He’s waiting for the surgeon.”

”Oh,” Sam muttered and pursed his lips. He didn’t like when his plans changed. 

He had learned long ago that working with a steady routine was the best way to deal with kids. He had also learned that, with kids, unpredictability was the only thing he could fully count on. However, being a professional and changing his plans on the fly didn’t mean he liked it.

He glanced at the clock: 8:31. He frowned and pinched his lips together. With three new patients to work with, his morning was going to be busy. He tucked his writing pad under his arm, nodded at Darla, and started towards the first new patient of the day.

Room three, bed two: Joel Harrison, age five. Fell from a tree and ended up with a femoral fracture. 

As he pulled the door open, he squared his shoulders, getting into the right headspace to meet the kids in the room. 

”Good morning, Jonnathan, Elia, and… you must be Joel?” Sam asked a small, wheat-blond boy who ducked shyly under his blanket. 

Sam smiled at the boy and was happy to get a shy quirk of lips back. Good. It was always easier to start working when the kids braved a smile back.

”So. My name is Sam and I’m your physical therapist,” he said as he sat on the foot end of Joel’s bed. ”Do you know what a physical therapist does?”

Joel shook his head.

”A physical therapist helps you to learn how to move better again after you’ve hurt yourself.”

”I fell from a tree!” Joel said.

”Really?”

”Yeah. It hurt a lot,” Joel said, and his face scrunched.

”I bet,” Sam agreed seriously. ”Was it a big tree?”

Joel shook his head. ”No, not really. An old apple tree in our back yard. My mom said I shouldn’t climb it, but…”

”You know, when I was a kid, I fell from an apple tree, too. But I didn’t break my leg, I broke my arm, right here,” Sam said, pointing at the old scar on his left arm. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Jonnathan and Elia lean closer to get a better look, even though they both had heard the story before. 

”Oh,” Joel breathed. He blinked and gave Sam a wide-eyed look, asking hesitantly, ”Do you want to see my leg?”

”Yes, please,” Sam said.

As they worked through Sam’s checklist, Joel got slowly over his shyness and Sam was satisfied with getting things started properly. After he thanked Joel, he waved Jonnathan and Elia goodbye and promised to come and see them later. He stopped for a moment just outside the door to scribble notes and ideas for Joel’s treatment before checking the facts about his next patient. 

He liked to keep his notes in order and write everything down as soon as he had the chance. If he didn’t, there was always the possibility he would forget something important, which would be an annoyance.

Like he had thought, the first half of his day was busy. Riverview was a relatively small hospital, and Sam was the only physical therapist who specialized on children. He didn’t mind the workload, in fact he enjoyed it, but sometimes things piled up. Especially when the doctors didn’t bother contacting him early enough. Sometimes it felt like they thought that all Sam had to do was to stroll into the room, take one look at the kid and immediately know what to do and how. In all honesty, it actually took time and careful observation to determine what would be the best course of action for each child.

Some might have said that Sam was a nitpicker. Sam liked to say he was thorough. He knew that at least some of the nurses and his colleagues rolled their eyes at his set ways, but he didn’t mind. He had his system, and it worked just fine.

Besides, kids were easy; it was usually the parents Sam had more troubles with. 

Some parent didn’t think physical therapy was important, which led to ignoring Sam’s instruction. Other parents were overly enthusiastic and decided that more was better. Both options resulted in problems in the kids’ rehabilitation, and it frustrated Sam to no end. 

Things would go so much easier if people just bothered to follow simple, written instructions.

After a lunch of a whole wheat tortilla with lightly steamed vegetables and Greek cheese, yogurt, and a small pouch of fruit, he reviewed the evaluations he had written on a couple of kids the week before. He had had some slightly more challenging cases, and he needed to contact their local pediatricians to get their rehab going. It was important for the children’s recovery.

The phone calls ate a lot more time than he thought, mostly because of a stubborn alpha doctor who decided she knew better how to handle the aftercare and rehab of a newly presented omega girl. Sam had to really put his foot down to get it through why overbearing orders wouldn’t work for a teenager who had fallen off her horse and was now trying to manage her rampant hormones, fractured pelvis, and beloved hobby on her own.

”What makes you think you know better?” the doctor demanded haughtily, letting way too much alpha through her voice for Sam’s liking.

”I don’t think, I know,” Sam gritted out, thinking about his brother. Yes, he definitely knew how to handle fragile and hurt omegas without coddling them.

When he was finally done for the day, he had a pounding migraine. Despite that, he went to check in on a couple of patients, just to make sure the routine he had planned for them would be the right one. He walked briskly towards room five, only to stop short and frown when he heard delighted squeals.

Sam glanced at the clock. It wasn’t yet time for the visiting hours, and he had never heard the three kids giggling uncontrollably like that. Slightly worried, he pulled the door open and stepped in.

The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks. 

There was a man standing on one bed. He was clad in a green, zebra-striped button-up and hot pink jeans, and he had a giant, red foam clown nose stuffed on his nose. 

Sam gaped. ”What the heck do you think you’re doing?!” he spat.

The man bent backward to look at Sam. ”We’re having an adventure!” He said, stretching the word adventure like a circus ringmaster. 

All the kids in the room giggled.

”Get off of that bed,” Sam hissed. He would’ve wanted to go and yank the idiot down, but he didn’t want to scare the kids. 

”Well, sure, since you asked so nicely,” the man said, rolling his eyes pointedly, making a show of getting down with exaggerated moves, moving like a drunkard on stilts. 

The kids giggled again.

Sam jerked his head to get the man follow him as he stormed out. As the man followed him sporting an easy grin, Sam crowded him against the wall.

”Those kids have either gone through or are about to go through major orthopedic surgeries, and you jumping on their beds is endangering their well being,” Sam snapped. ”Do you have any idea what you were doing? What you could cause?” He narrowed his eyes at the man. ”Do you even have the permission to be here in the first place?”

As Sam ranted, the grin slowly faded from the man’s face and he averted his eyes.

”I wasn’t going to hurt those kids,” he said quietly.

”And how would you know that?” Sam asked, incredulous. ”Are you an expert?” He caught a whiff of the man’s scent and barely managed to stifle rolling his eyes. He’d already dealt with one holier-than-thou alpha, he really didn’t want to repeat it.

Something must’ve filtered through because the man shot Sam a narrowed look. ”I just know,” he said sharply, snatching the clown nose off. ”And yeah, since you asked: I know what I was doing, and I do have permission to be here.” 

He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his face. Before Sam had the chance to say anything, he ducked back into the room, said cheery goodbyes, and exited again, holding a bag that reminded Sam of a Santa’s sack.

The man opened the sack and raised a brow. ”Go ahead, search me,” he said, but his voice held no heat. 

Sam peeked a cursory look into the sack and nodded. 

With hunched shoulders, the man gathered his sack under one arm and turned to go. Frowning, Sam stared after him. He had a vague feeling he had missed something, but he didn’t know what. 

He shrugged and went back into the room. The kids looked at him with hopeful eyes. Somehow, it made him feel like the bad guy.

”Alright, back to the matter at hand. How are you feeling today?” he asked with a slightly tight smile. ”Sandra? Any aches in your hip?”

After Sam was finished with his patients, he walked back into the nurses’ office to leave his notes and requests for the next day. He went over the updates on a couple of kids’ situation with a couple of nurses and left instructions concerning Joel. He also left the info leaflet meant for the parents.

As he was checking the referral for an incoming patient, he heard Sarah and Tanya talking about something—or someone—called the Trickster.

”No, I didn’t see him today,” Sarah said.

Tanya hummed. ”Odd. He’s usually so precise. I hope he’s okay.”

”You just want to mother hen him,” Sarah snorted.

”So what if I do? He’s got this dejected air around him, I can’t help it if he calls out to my inner omega.”

”Inner omega my ass.”

”Your ass? I’d prefer mine,” Tanya grinned. 

As the nurses passed Sam, they winked and grinned at him. Sam blinked and frowned. He didn’t know anyone called the Trickster. 

Perhaps it was the nurses’ nickname for a new doctor—it wouldn’t be the first time the nurses gossiped about a new doctor.

Sam didn’t really get it, but since he was rarely included in the omega nurses proverbial knitting circles, he didn’t mind.

After his shift, Sam cycled to Whole Foods. His preferred shopping day was Saturday, when he filled his fridge and pantry for the week, only stopping for a quick milk run if he ran out. However, he was going to Cas and Dean’s the next day, and he had promised to bring a salad. Dean would complain, of course, because he still held on to ridiculous prejudices about healthy eating. It was an old argument and Sam knew that the best way to deal with it was to ignore the grumbling.

At least Cas would be glad to get something other than ribs for a change.

Once back at his apartment, Sam went through his routine of taking a short shower and changing into more comfortable clothes. He warmed up some lentil stew from the previous day and ate it with chewy Scandinavian rye bread and water, going through his papers at the same time. It was a bad habit of his; he knew he should dedicate his dinner for eating, but somehow he always ended up working. 

Afterward, he spent a couple of hours reading Albert Camus. He had a list from the book 1001 books you must read before you die, and he was determined to read as many as he could, and even write down some notes about each of them. He already had one Moleskine filled with small reviews. 

Sam sighed and closed his book, still annoyed about the confrontation at the hospital. Absently, he glanced up and around, taking in his small studio. It needed cleaning, even though he owned the bare minimum. He didn’t need much. The place was small and quite bare, and no matter what Dean said about it, Sam liked it a lot. His home had only the essentials: a small kitchenette, a table and a couple of chairs, a bed, a small space for his clothes, and the shower cubicle. 

He had been lucky to find it in the shape it had been in; the owner had almost given up hope for renting it out to anyone, but Sam had seen its potential and rented the place on the condition that he was allowed to fix it the way he wanted. The owner had nearly wept when she had handed over the keys.

Sam had scrubbed the apartment clean, ripped up the stained linoleum and bared the bones of the space. He had purposefully left the floor and walls on concrete, just opting to paint the walls white and the floor dark gray. He didn’t bother with carpets and almost left out the curtains altogether. It was only his need for modesty that forced him to hang heavy, light gray curtains to frame the big window.

After he had moved in, Sam had invited Dean and Cas over. Cas had complimented him on the renovation and handed him a bottle of organic, quality red wine. Dean, on the other hand, had taken one look at the place and asked if the break-up with Madison had broken Sam, because the place looked like a stripped warehouse. 

Sam had shrugged, ignored the jab about Madison, and asked if Dean wanted hummus with his bread. The issue was forgotten in the wake of Dean’s theatrical gagging.

It was stupid and immature, and so much like Dean.

Glancing at the clock, Sam decided it was time to prepare the salad. It was a simple dish of mixed vegetables roasted with pine nuts, some olive oil, cherry tomatoes, arugula, olives, and buffalo mozzarella. Sam made sure his ingredients were in good shape and then he fixed the salad with practiced ease. It would settle overnight in the fridge and be good to go the next day.

Satisfied with his day, he completed his yoga routine, brushed his teeth, and spent about fifteen minutes meditating after he had turned off the lights. 

Then he turned to his side and settled in for the night.

”Rabbit food? Really?” Dean asked, peeking onto the bowl with his face scrunched into an unhappy frown. 

Sam ignored his brother and placed the bowl in the center of the table.

”Leave it, Dean,” Cas said with a fond eye roll and peered into the bowl. ”Pine nuts and arugula?” he asked with a pleased smile.

Sam nodded. ”Yeah. You said you like them, so…”

”That was very kind of you. Thank you, Sam.” As usual, Cas’s tone was devoid of any secondary gender timbre, offering just his personal affection.

Dean let out a forlorn sigh from the other side of the table. ”Why don’t you ever bring any of my favorites?”

”Probably because you love pie and bacon,” Sam said dryly.

”What’s wrong with pie and bacon?” Dean asked incredulously.

”Nothing, when consumed in small doses,” Sam said. ”You don’t need my help in getting either. Roasted vegetable salad on the other hand…” He raised his brow pointedly.

Dean was about to retort something, but Cas interrupted him with a wry glance and cleared his throat. ”How’s work?” he asked, pointing for Sam to sit down.

Sam shrugged. ”It’s nice. The patients vary, so things stay interesting. Planning a training schedule for a two-year-old is a bit different than deciding the best way to rehabilitate a teenager with a busted hip.”

Cas nodded and hummed a non-committal sound as he set the table, gently nudging Dean to check the food.

”There was this weird thing that happened,” Sam continued. ”I walked in on an alpha in one of the children’s rooms. He was a…hospital clown or something.”

Something in Cas’s eyes flashed. ”Oh?”

”Yeah. He was just messing around, making the kids laugh. I guess it might’ve been okay if he hadn’t been jumping on one kid’s bed. For starters, it’s unhygienic, and it could’ve been dangerous for the patients.”

”Did he have his shoes on?”

Sam blinked at Cas’s non-sequitur question. ”What?”

Cas shrugged. ”If he didn’t have his shoes on, it probably wasn’t that unhygienic. But you’re right about the safety issues. Did he have permission to be there?”

”Um…” Sam said, a bit thrown off. ”He said he had, but I didn’t remember to check.”

”I’m asking because that makes a difference,” Cas said, glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye.

”Yeah, it does,” Sam agreed. ”But it was still inappropriate.”

Cas hummed again. It was weird because usually Cas had strong opinions about things and didn’t hesitate to voice them. But perhaps he was distracted by the food—or the way Dean shook his ass by the stove. 

Sam closed his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. Sometimes Dean seemed to do that on purpose because he knew how much it annoyed Sam.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t happy for Dean. On the contrary; presenting as an omega had been a hard hit on his brother, and realizing he preferred males over females had sent him barreling to an identity crisis. To Sam, Dean’s preferences had never been a secret, but his brother had been his stubborn self, living in denial for years. Fortunately for him (and everyone else), Cas had marched into his life like the grumpy badass alpha he was, and Dean had swooned like a proper omega.

Cas’s law firm had hired the construction firm where Dean worked to renovate their business premises, and Sam had been in the unfortunate position to listen to Dean’s endless rants about ’the idiot alpha lawyer’ that turned to ’badass hottie’ and then to ”He’s never going to even notice me, who am I kidding?” 

At the end, it had been Cas who had asked permission to court Dean properly after the renovations were finished. Dean’s mood had fluctuated from ecstatic to despaired, and things hadn’t changed until Cas and Dean had spent a weekend together. Dean had returned with a blissed-out smile and way too many hickeys he was eager to show off.

It had only gotten sappier ever since. Despite all his gruffness, Dean blushed whenever Cas paid him a compliment, kissed him, or held his hand in public. Cas was either oblivious or, Sam suspected, he aggressively ignored Dean’s insecurities. 

If Sam was being brutally honest, he could admit he didn’t always understand what Cas saw in Dean. He couldn’t deny his brother was a looker, but his many issues made him exhausting to live with. Sam should know—they’d lived in each other’s pockets for years, after all.

Perhaps it was that ”opposites attract” sorta thing, Sam thought. Nevertheless, whatever it was, it was working; the looks Cas shot at Dean might have been exasperated, but they were so full of tenderness it sometimes made Sam feel like an intruder.

So yeah, Sam was happy for Dean. He only wished they would tone it down a little when he was around.

He was jolted from his thoughts when Dean hit him in the head with a bun.

”Earth to Sam, dinner’s ready!” Dean sing-songed.

”Did you just throw a bun at me?” Sam exclaimed, clambering up from his chair. ”What a waste of food!”

Dean rolled his eyes. ”It’s still perfectly edible. Sit your ass down and start eating.”

The dinner was easy and familiar, with Sam and Dean bickering with each other and Cas rolling his eyes at them both. Sam was actually enjoying his time.

They were at the dessert (pecan pumpkin pie, because Dean) when Dean set his spoon down with a deliberate clink and cocked his head at Sam.

”So… How’s your life nowadays?” Dean asked, stretching the first word.

”Fine,” Sam said, swallowing around the piece of pie. ”Work and such.”

”Just work?”

Sam’s spoon froze in midair. He shot Dean a look, but his brother gazed back with an innocent face. 

Too innocent.

Dammit, Sam thought. ”No, I’m not seeing anyone,” he sighed. He lowered the spoon on the plate and pinched at the base of his nose. ”Was that the reason for this dinner?”

”No!” Dean sputtered while Cas huffed and shook his head, muttering, ”I told you so,” under his breath.

”Not helping,” Dean hissed at his alpha, annoyed.

Sam pursed his lips and stared at Dean with what Dean had labeled as his bitch face and asked, exasperated, ”Really, Dean?”

Dean shrugged and managed to look abashed. ”I just want you to be happy like I am, that’s all,” he said, glancing at Cas from the corner of his eye.

Sam crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. ”Why is it so hard for you to accept that I am happy with my life?”

”Are you honestly asking me that?” Dean asked, raising his brows. ”You have nothing else in your life except your work. All your days are exactly the same: you wake up, make that godawful sludge—”

”It’s a smoothie,” Sam interjected.

Dean rolled his eyes and waved his hand in a ’yeah, whatever’ gesture. ”—go for a run, go to work, get back home, eat, read, do your yoga or whatever that hippie thing is, and then you go to bed.” Dean flailed his hands, agitated. ”You don’t have any friends, you don’t have any hobbies, you don’t even get laid!”

”And that’s your problem how?” Sam snapped.

”It’s my problem because I don’t want you to shrivel up like some friggin’ spinster in your lair, surrounded by nothing but your routines and OCD!” Dean groaned. ”You haven’t even dated after Madison, have you?”

”So what if I haven’t?”

Dean gave him a flat stare and Sam countered with a glare of his own.

”Okay, I think we’ve had enough brotherly feels for tonight,” Cas interrupted mildly. He stood up and, after putting the dirty plates into the sink, started covering the pecan pie with tin foil.

”Hey, I wasn’t done yet!” Dean whined, making grabby hands at the pie.

”Yes, you were,” Cas snorted, shot an apologetic glance at Sam, and steered a pouting Dean away from the pie leftovers.

Sam was full and sleepy, but arguing about his personal life with Dean always made him irritable. It was probably better for everyone if he just took his leave.

Cas followed him to the door. ”I’m sorry,” he said. ”For the record, I had nothing to do with this ambush.”

Sam shook his head. Back when Cas had just started courting Dean, he and Sam had had an uncomfortably straightforward and blunt conversation about Sam’s past relationships. After that, Cas had respected Sam’s decisions about his own life.

”I know, Cas. I know my brother. He likes to try and push my buttons. It’s not the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.”

Cas gave him a resigned grin and bade him goodnight.

Later, as Sam lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling, Dean’s words didn’t leave him in peace. 

The quip about his OCD was an old one, and even though Sam knew it was true, it always managed to sting. Sam really should’ve grown used to it by now, but it seemed like no amount of teasing from Dean really made it okay. 

Perhaps it was the way Dean talked about it, like having a set routine and life goals was a bad thing.

For as long as he could remember, it had been Sam who had everything under control, everything in its proper place. It had started after their parents’ divorce, and when Mom had died and they’d moved in with Dad, it had only gotten… not worse, as such, but more prominent.

Sam had power-walked his way through high school and straight into the college of his choosing, eventually graduating with honors. The only thing that had hindered him were his classmates’ tendencies to choose partying over studying. They had said he was too somber and intense in his studies; he preferred calling himself goal-oriented. 

Honestly, Sam had never understood why he should waste his time on something mundane when he could concentrate on getting his life sorted. Having a steady job and a home of his own at the age of 25 was something he was proud of.

Madison had used to say that Sam’s OCD habits were because he tried to control what little he could while the world around him spun out of his grasp. Sam had argued against it, claiming he just liked his routines. Then again, she had also said that Dean poured his own issues on beer and sleeping around, so perhaps she’d had a point. 

It still didn’t make it any easier to bear her remarks on Sam’s cleaning habits, his morning routines, or the way he had always felt about sex.

Sighing, Sam sat up in his bed and accepted that he probably wouldn’t get to sleep any time soon. He got up and brewed himself an herbal infusion, one of those organic kinds that claimed to relax both body and mind. He added a careful spoonful of honey, took the cup, and went to stare out of the window. 

The city looked beautiful at night, the lights painting constellations on the structures of the buildings around him. He didn’t see any of it, though, lost in his thoughts. 

He sipped his drink and frowned. Was there some truth in Dean’s comment about Madison? 

They had ended their relationship after some heavy arguing, but the break-up itself had been amiable and clean. They both had agreed that even though they enjoyed each other’s company, they didn’t fit. It was a sort of a surprise to their friends; they were stable high school beta sweethearts and everybody had expected them to be married with kids in no time.

Despite the warm night, Sam shuddered. 

Married he could handle, but kids? No. 

He liked working with them, but that was different. He enjoyed the plasticity of the developing body, the way it worked to repair itself, and the amazing durability it expressed even under the most extreme circumstances. His interest in kids was purely clinical. He was more than happy to leave the caring to the nurses. Coming home to a couple of kids of his own felt…uh, just no.

Honestly, that had been one of the recurring themes of his and Madison’s fights. 

She had wanted kids from the day one, and he had known it when they had started dating. For his part, Sam had never thought about having kids of his own. He had never really understood the point. He’d watched with some bemusement how the newly presented Dean cooed at babies when he thought no-one was looking, and later he was left wondering why he never felt like that. He was fervently grateful he was a beta and didn’t have to deal with his body’s biological urges like the two other secondary genders.

He had tried to explain Madison that he really just didn’t want kids, but she had brushed it away as an immature comment, claiming he just had to grow up a bit.

Well, Sam grew up, graduated, and started working at the children’s ward, and he still didn’t want kids of his own. Madison took it personally. Their screaming matches had escalated to the point of a neighbor calling the police, and soon after that, Madison had said she wanted him to move out.

That had been a little over two years ago.

Sam downed the last of his herbal tea and sighed, wondering if he could get some sleep now. Dean’s mission of finding him a special someone was an ongoing campaign and no amount of lost sleep would make him stop. 

Dean had always felt he had to care for Sam, to look after him and mother him, and this was just another project for him. It would pass.

Hopefully.

The next morning, Sam woke up to a text message waiting for him.

>Sorry about last night. I just worry about you.

He huffed and quickly tapped a message back to Dean.

>Yeah, I know. Still annoying.

He left the phone on the table to wait while he made his regular morning smoothie of kale, avocado, banana, and coconut milk. He poured himself a glass and left the rest to drink when he got back. At 6:45, he left for his run. He had several routes to choose from, varying from 30 minutes to almost two hours, depending on his speed and mood. This morning, he took the scenic route, which he knew would be about 45 minutes. He had his lunch already sorted out with the leftovers from Cas and Dean, so he didn’t have to worry about that.

He lost himself to the run and let the cool breeze wipe his mind clean. This was why he ran. Dean had asked about it several times, never really understanding the reasoning. Sam had said it made him feel good. Dean had said he wouldn’t run unless he was chased by monsters. With a lecherous wink, he had continued that he had a way better way to build up his stamina while making himself feel good. 

Sam had made a face at the implications.

At 7:23 he was back. He took a quick shower, downed the second glass of smoothie, packed his lunch, and picked up his bicycle from the hooks on the wall. The ride to work took about fifteen minutes, and at 7:58, he was in his workspace, in clean scrubs and ready to start the day.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. Sam was the only physical therapist who worked exclusively with kids, and even though he had expressed the need for a colleague, the hospital had yet to hire another pediatric physical therapist. It meant that sometimes, Sam was forced to move the teenage cases to a regular physical therapist and concentrate on the younger patients himself. He didn’t like it, because his colleagues rarely did things exactly as he did, and their notes were often an unorganized mess.

It wasn’t until the next Tuesday when Sam saw the clown again. 

He had kept his eyes open for the idiot in the clown costume. There had been no posters or advertisements about an extra hospital clown, and the regular clown group that came on Saturdays hadn’t told anyone about a new addition to their routine. 

Sam was delayed from his rounds due to an unexpected consulting call, and he was irritated. Intellectually, he knew that consulting was important, but he had his phone hours in the afternoons for a reason. He snatched his patient forms with a bit more force than necessary and closed the door to the nurse’s office with a snap. 

He was on his way to room six when he heard the muffled squeals of laughter from room three.

”What the hell…” he muttered to himself and strode towards the door.

When he threw it open, he was greeted with a peculiar sight; the room was full of kids from other patient rooms, all wearing party hats and red foam noses. The alpha clown from last week was standing on a stool (without his shoes, Sam noticed), and he was explaining something with shining eyes and expressive tone, while his hands were busily wrapping a balloon animal. 

When he noticed Sam, his face fell.

”Oh, if it isn’t Mister Tall And Spoilsport,” he said sourly. The kids giggled at his words.

”You,” Sam said accusingly.

”Yes, me,” the man snapped. ”And, see? I’m not on the bed, I’m on a stool without my shoes. Although, considering how it’s common practice for the nurses to take their scrubs home, I don’t understand how you are so concerned about hygiene,” he added dryly.

”That’s not the point,” Sam huffed.

”Then what is?” The man asked, spreading his hands wide and making an elaborate bow. ”Please enlighten me, O Wise One,” he intoned, and the kids erupted into giggles again.

Sam narrowed his eyes. Was the guy serious?

The man averted his eyes and he sighed. His hands made some complicated twists and turns, and then he presented Joel a balloon dragon the exact same purple shade as the cast on his leg.

Sam made a muffled sound and the man rolled his eyes.

”I checked ahead to make sure none of the kids are allergic to latex. The balloons were sterilized with a UV light and packed into a sterilized zip lock bag. I filled the balloon with a hand-held pump that I wiped with a disinfectant in advance. I disinfected my hands before making the animal. I don’t have a respiratory disease, herpes, or a contagious skin condition,” he narrated, visibly irritated.

Sam blinked at the info load, vaguely impressed at the thoroughness. However, he had questions to ask and he jerked his head to the man to follow him.

Once outside, he stared at the man for a moment, before he said, ”I tried to check who you are, and found nothing. You don’t have any advertisements in the hallways, and the official hospital clowns don’t have anyone like you in their group. So, to me, it seems like you’re moonlighting.”

The man closed his eyes for a moment and something flickered across his face.

”So what if I am?”

Sam was slightly taken aback by the other’s belligerent tone.

”So what—you think it’s perfectly okay to hold your own clown show unannounced and unsanctioned? You said you had the permission to be here!”

The man winced. ”Well… I might have been a bit vague about that.”

Sam crossed his arms on his chest. ”What do you mean?”

The man looked at his toes and sighed. ”The staff knows about my visits,” he finally said, choosing his words with obvious care.

”So the nurses know about you, but you didn’t bother checking in with the HR?”

The man just shrugged, his bag swaying at the motion.

Shaking his head in amazement, Sam huffed a breath. ”I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

”Believe what?” the man asked sharply. ”That someone would want to make those kids feel a bit better about being in a hospital?”

”More about ’I can’t believe someone moonlights as a hospital clown without a proper license, and that the staff actually goes along with it,’” Sam said flatly.

”So, what are you going to do about it?” the man asked, lifting his jaw defensively. ”Report me?”

Sam nodded. ”Yes. What you do is against the rules.”

A bitter smirk ghosted on the man’s face. ”Rules…” he said quietly. ”Yeah. Can’t forget about the rules.”

He gave Sam a long look and shook his head. ”You go ahead and report me. I bet it makes you feel all good and righteous. Have a nice life with your rules and regulations.”

He gave Sam a flourished bow and walked away, somehow seeming smaller than before. As he passed the nurses’ office, he gave a clipped salute and a wide grin to whoever was inside before he turned around the corner.

Sam stared after him with a small frown. Then he shrugged and turned around to usher the extra kids away from the patient room. 

Later that day, he thought long and hard about how to approach the matter. It was more than clear to him than he had to; having an unauthorized clown with the kids was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and he didn’t want that. But he also liked the staff of the ward, and he didn’t want to bring any unnecessary harm to the nurses. 

In the end, he wrote a very generic letter to the HR, asking if it was okay to come in to entertain kids because he had heard anyone could do it. He hoped it was enough.

The next Tuesday went without a glitch. Sam didn’t hear muffled laughter or suppressed giggles from any room and nodded at himself. 

He was sorting out his patient list for the next day when Sarah stepped in and asked, ”Have you seen Trickster today?”

Sam blinked and took a look around, momentarily confused that Sarah was asking him.

”No,” Ruby answered from her workstation.

”Odd,” Sarah frowned. ”Usually, he’s been in already.”

Ruby shrugged. ”Might be because of the announcement.”

”What announcement?”

”You haven’t seen it?” Ruby asked with a raised brow. ”Apparently, someone ratted him out. We got this announcement that despite a rumor going on that you can moonlight as a hospital clown without a permission, it’s not allowed, and all clown activity has to go through the official channels.”

It didn’t take long for Sam to realize who they were talking about. He was suddenly very interested in the papers in his hand.

”What?” Sarah hissed. ”Who would do that?”

From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Ruby shrugging again. ”Dunno. Some sourpuss who doesn’t like the kids having any fun, I guess,” she grumbled.

Sam very much wanted to voice his opinion, but he had some self-preservation left. The omega nurses cared for the kids with all their hearts, and at times the ferociousness was a little…overwhelming. 

”Whoever that was, I hope they’re happy with their work,” Sarah huffed. ”I only hope he’s alright.”

Ruby sighed. ”Yeah, me too.”

Sam frowned at his papers. What did they mean, hoping the moonlighting clown—The Trickster?—was alright? 

Sarah sat down and opened her patient files. ”I’m going to miss Trickster Tuesdays,” she said wistfully. Then she shook her head a little and started writing her reports.

Feeling slightly off-kilter, Sam gathered his papers and left the office.

This time, the invitation to Cas and Dean’s came for Saturday. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, wondering what excuse for snooping about his personal life Dean was going to use this time. Dean took his big brother role seriously and was determined to either find Sam a new girlfriend, or to make him admit how traumatized Madison had left him. To Sam, neither option was that appealing.

And Dean was the one accusing Sam of being obsessive-compulsive.

Even though Sam hadn’t been asked to bring anything, he put together a simple salad to even out Dean’s traditional burgers-and-beer Saturday menu. It had been their thing since they were kids, and even though Cas would make sure the food was top quality, Sam wasn’t ready for an all-meat dinner.

Cas’s policy of good food was one of the main reasons Sam didn’t mind eating with at their place. He usually made his own food, wanting to know what exactly was in it, but he made an exception with Cas and Dean. Admittedly, it had taken a couple of quite thorough conversations with Cas, but they had reached an understanding.

The other main reason why Sam liked visiting Cas and Dean was because he liked seeing his brother happy.

When Dean had moved in, the house had been bare with only the basic necessities. In only a couple of months, Dean had filled the place with…well, Sam liked to call it clutter and kitsch behind Dean’s back and nesting to his face, but Dean called it decorating. Cas didn’t call it anything, he just smiled calmly and said that Dean was in charge of the cleaning anyway. 

Cas’s house was small but comfortable, with three bedrooms and 1.5 bathrooms, a spacious kitchen, and a living room big enough to fit in the ridiculously huge sofa Dean had always dreamed about. Dean hadn’t brought much stuff with him, but he’d slotted into Cas’s life effortlessly, like he had always been there. 

In all honesty, Sam couldn’t imagine himself living in a house filled with rugs, pillows, curtains, throws, and stuff, but fortunately, he didn’t have to. 

When he arrived at the house, he was greeted by Cas.

”Dean’s in the kitchen preparing the burgers,” he said, beckoning Sam in.

”I know we didn’t agree on anything, but I still made a salad,” Sam said as he followed Cas into the kitchen, greeting Dean with a slight jerk of his head.

”Ah, that’s good. There’s four of us today, so a bit of extra is a good thing.” Cas dug a serving bowl from the cupboard and handed it over to Sam. ”Just pour it there and put it on the table. Dinner is almost ready anyway.”

”Four?” Sam asked as he fixed the salad. ”Please don’t tell me this is a blind date…”

Cas’s lip twitched. ”Don’t worry. I have no idea what my brother’s current preferences are, but I can quite safely promise we’re not trying to set you up.”

Sam frowned. ”I didn’t know you had a brother.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean still by the stove.

With deliberate moves, Cas set the tableware, his lips pinched together in a tight line. ”I have several, but Gabriel is the only one I’m in contact with.”

Sam blinked his head at Cas’s clipped tones and the quiet rumble of alpha underneath. He’d never heard Cas express his alpha side before, and by his reaction, Sam guessed there was no love lost between Cas and his brothers.

He was jerked from his thoughts by a cheery, ”Is dinner ready? I’m starving!” from behind him. 

Eyes wide, Sam whirled around. The unauthorized clown from the hospital, The Trickster, was apparently Cas’s brother.

”You!” Sam exclaimed, incredulous.

Cas frowned. ”Gabe?”

The clown, Gabe, ignored Cas, shook his head, and snorted, ”Isn’t this just perfect. The self-pretentious asswipe who threw me out is practically family!”

”What are you—” Dean started.

”You’re not even denying it, are you?” he asked Sam right over Dean’s protesting. ”You know, in all this time, you’ve been the only one to complain.”

”Sam?” Cas asked. The alpha undertone in his voice was a lot more prominent.

”What was I supposed to do?” Sam asked Gabe, crossing his arms across his chest. ”For fuck’s sake, you were messing around with recently operated kids. Do you have any idea what you could’ve caused? You could’ve killed someone!”

Gabe reeled back like struck. ”Well. Isn’t it good that you charged in like a knight on a white horse and saved the poor little kids’ asses,” he said thickly after a moment.

”There’s no need for theatrics,” Sam huffed. ”Your actions were dangerous and you know it.”

For a moment, Gabe was silent. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head as something in him deflated. He turned his head away a bit in an oddly submissive gesture for an alpha, and with a dull voice said, ”I think I’ve lost my appetite. See you later, Cassie.”

Cas stepped forward, but Gabe merely shook his head and walked out, softly closing the door behind him. 

Gabe had barely made it out when Cas whirled around and demanded with a tight voice, ”What the hell is your problem, Sam?”

Taken aback by Cas’s almost aggressive tone, Sam balked. ”His behavior was suspicious. He could’ve hurt the kids—”

”And how did you know that?” Cas snapped back. ”Did you even bother asking?

”There was no need,” Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

Something in Cas’s stance changed. ”Don’t you roll your eyes at me,” he warned. His voice was quiet, but it held the promise of an angry alpha, and Sam paused.

To their side, Dean’s head jerked up at the show of aggression. ”Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he placated. ”Let’s just calm down, okay?”

”Thanks, Dean,” Sam said.

”Stay out of this, Dean,” Cas said, keeping his eyes on Sam.

”Yeah, how about no?” Dean said and crossed his arms. ”What the hell is going on?”

Cas’s focus snapped on Dean who twitched under the full-blown glare of a pissed-off alpha. 

Feeling like his presence was in no way welcomed, Sam sighed and said, ”I think it’s best if I go.”

”Yes, I agree,” Cas said emphatically.

”Wait a minute, you can’t just throw my brother out of our home!” Dean protested.

”And why is that?” Cas asked, his voice deceptively mild. ”He just threw my brother out.”

”That’s different,” Dean insisted.

Even Sam, with his duller beta senses and his slight inability to read the more subtle secondary gender undertones, realized Dean was in dangerous waters, but there was nothing he could do. 

”Why? Because Gabe is my brother?” Cas’s voice had gone completely flat.

Dean blinked and frowned, finally catching on. ”No, that’s not—” he tried to amend, but it was too late. 

Ignoring him, Cas continued with the same flat tone. ”The last time I checked, this house was still mine. I think I have every right to order Sam out of my territory.”

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean snorted.

”About what?” Cas asked, still with the tightly controlled voice. His arms were hanging on his sides but Sam saw he had fisted his hands so hard his knuckles were white. ”About me owning the house or me asking Sam to leave because of his behavior towards my brother?”

Dean stared at the alpha, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. Then he squared his shoulders, drew breath, and said, ”If you’re throwing Sam out, I’m going with him.”

Sam wanted to interrupt and say it was unnecessary, but Cas didn’t give him the chance. ”Out,” he said.

Dean swallowed thickly, ground out a strangled, ”Fine!” and stormed out, dragging a bewildered Sam behind him.

That night, Sam woke up to soft sniffling.

”Dean?” he asked, a bit groggy.

The sniffling stopped, but Sam could still hear soft hiccuping. With a sigh, he reached up, switched his reading light on, and sat up in his bed.

Dean was a barely distinguishable lump on his couch, curled tightly on his side. Even in the dim light, Sam could see him shaking.

Fuck this, he thought and got up. He puttered around in the kitchen, making enough noise to give Dean the chance to ’wake up’ and brewed two cups of tea. Holding the cups, he walked around the couch and bumped Dean on the shin with his foot.

”I know you’re awake,” he said gruffly.

With a grunt, Dean sat up, still all wrapped up in his blanket, and accepted the cup without a word. The lack of smart remarks told Sam how upset Dean actually was.

”I’m sorry,” Sam offered awkwardly.

Dean shrugged, a clumsy move with his left shoulder. He took another gulp of tea and then hung his head, staring at the floor.

”Yeah,” Dean said. ”Me, too.”

Sam didn’t know what else to say. 

Cas had an exceptionally good control of his alpha side, which was why his behavior had come as a surprise. Dean was obviously in shock, but apart from offering tea and apologies, Sam wasn’t sure what to do. Despite giving the (partially deliberate) impression of a slightly uncouth jerk, Dean was empathic to things going around him and it had little to do with him being an omega. 

Between the two of them, it had always been Dean who had known what to do, when to go with a joke and when to give a strong grip on the shoulder. 

After a while of sharing silence and tea, Dean cleared his throat and stood up. ”Thanks, Sammy,” he said quietly before he went to put the mug in the sink on his way to the bathroom. 

Sam took it as a message of the moment being over. He rinsed the cups and headed back to bed, waiting until Dean found his way back to the couch before switching off the light.

In the morning, Sam tried to be as quiet as he could, lest he wake Dean up too early. Passed out on the couch, Dean’s face was puffy and tear-stricken, and Sam left for his regular run without preparing his morning smoothie.

As he ran, he thought about the mess they were in. 

Cas was angry. He was angry at Sam for exposing his brother (to Sam, the why was still a mystery), and Dean for standing up for his brother. Sam had no way of knowing how long it would take Cas’s alpha side to calm down, and he figured Dean was just as lost as he was. So now, Dean was bunking at Sam’s and only God knew how they would get things sorted out. 

This was going to be hard on Dean.

Two hours later, when he made it back, Dean was still asleep. Sam took a shower, changed into light sweats, and went through his longer yoga routine. It was the one he practiced when he had more time and, as it was Sunday and he didn’t have to go to work, he had plenty.

When he was done, he started making breakfast, deciding that 10 a.m. was more than late enough for Dean. He made an oven-baked omelet with bell peppers and cheese and brewed a whole pot of strong coffee. He guessed Dean would need that.

The smell of coffee woke Dean up. He peeked from the couch with his hair sticking everywhere, a pillow crease on his cheek, and grumbled, ”Please tell me you have some real food for breakfast?”

”If coffee and an oven-baked omelet count, then yes,” Sam answered. ”I also have some yogurt and yeast buns, if you want?”

Dean grunted something under his breath as he made his way to the bathroom. Deciding for his brother, Sam blended some rolled oats, blueberries, yogurt, and ice in the blender, adding a healthy dose of fresh ginger and pinch of brown sugar to season it. He poured the smoothie into two glasses and took a sip of his own before putting them on the table.

When Dean came from the bathroom, toweling his hair off, he stopped by the table and blinked at the smoothie.

Sam rolled his eyes. ”It’s breakfast,” he answered to Dean’s silent suspicion. ”Sit your ass down and eat.”

When Dean had cleared up his plate and was on his third cup of coffee, he let out a slow breath. ”What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he asked quietly. ”I don’t have anyplace else than Cas’s.”

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean shook his head. ”Yeah, I know I can bunk here, but honestly, Sam? I can’t stay here. You have your own life, and I can’t just move in. Besides, your couch isn’t that comfortable.”

Sam shrugged. ”Beats being on the street, I guess?” He stood up and went to pour himself another cup of coffee. He knew he was going to suffer from it later, but he still took a sip of it. For solidarity’s sake.

”What are your options?” he asked, cocking his head at Dean.

Dean rubbed his face and turned to look out of the window. ”I don’t know,” he said, somewhat  lost.

Sam refrained rolling his eyes. It was almost pathetic how little it took for Dean’s issues to surface. No matter how good Cas had been for his self-esteem, it seemed like in the aftermath of the previous night, his confidence was blown. Sam knew from previous experience that nothing he said would help. Dean would just have to deal with this at his own pace.

Sighing, Sam put his coffee cup on the counter and crossed his arms. ”I think we have two options here,” he said with a completely straight face.

Dean turned to look at him and blinked. 

”Either we head out for a long walk or we stay in and watch Star Wars without ice cream.”

Dean groaned. ”Those are terrible options! One cannot watch Star Wars without ice cream!”

Sam raised a brow.

”Yeah yeah, put the film on, health nazi,” Dean grumbled.

”That’s more like it,” Sam said and hid his grin as he went to dig up the Star Wars trilogy.

The new week started sluggishly. They had spent the day binging on Star Wars and, combined with Dean’s almost palpable misery, it had rewarded Sam with a groggy and slightly disoriented feeling and a promise of a migraine in the near future. As a result, he was having a hard time concentrating on his job. 

On days like this, he was glad he had a solid routine to fall back to; carefully crafted schemes and session plans for times when his brain didn’t want to function like he wanted.

Even in his tired state, it didn’t take him long to realize something was off. The nurses seemed glum and the kids were slightly snappish, especially the ones who had been on the ward a bit longer. 

He finally found out about it on Tuesday, when he tried treating a four years old Elsie, who refused to co-operate and gave him a glum pout from under her brows.

”Is the Trickster coming today?” she demanded with narrowed eyes.

”Sorry, what?” Sam asked.

”Is the Trickster coming today or did you scare him away?”

Sam blinked and carefully finished the move with the leg. ”What do you mean by that?”

Elsie pursed her lips and thought for a moment. ”The others said you were when he was here, and now he’s not coming anymore.”

Sam dropped his chin to his chest and let out a deliberate breath. Apparently, the pint-sized grapevine was working just fine; Elsie hadn’t even been on the ward when Sam had confronted Gabe and, therefore, had no first-hand information.

”I wasn’t mad at him,” Sam said carefully. ”But I was annoyed that he didn’t do things properly and might have put the kids in the room in danger.”

Elsie’s eyes widened, and Sam hurried to add, ”By danger, I mean that kids might get too excited and tear their stitches or hurt themselves. There is a reason why adults need a reason to come here.”

”What’s your reason?” Elsie asked bluntly.

”I help you kids learn how to move after you’ve been hurt,” Sam said. ”The nurses are here to take care of you, the doctors make decisions how to treat you, your families come to see you and cheer you up, and the cleaners help to keep everything clean and sanitary.” He gave the girl a pointed look. ”And the hospital clowns? They need to have proper permission and knowledge to come here and make you feel better.”

Elsie still looked doubtful.

”Okay?” Sam said.

”Okay,” she sniffed.

It wasn’t exactly convincing, but Sam decided to let it lie. ”Okay,” he said instead. ”Now, how does your leg feel?”

”I guess I should try to find a place of my own,” Dean muttered.

It was Friday, two weeks after the row with Cas. Sam was laying on his bed, reading yet another book from his list in a futile attempt to ignore Dean’s grumbling. It didn’t work very well.

He shot him a look from the corner of his eye and asked, ”Why don’t you just go and talk to Cas? I know he’s been texting you.”

Dean flinched, but tried to mask it as a shrug. 

Sam gave his brother a searching look, took in his defeated posture and the dark smudges under his eyes. He looked resigned. In a sudden flash of clarity, Sam realized that Dean had somehow convinced himself that Cas wouldn’t want him back.

Sam stifled a groan and gently smacked himself in the head with his book.

”Have you even answered him? What has he been texting you, anyway?”

”He’s just keeps asking if I’m alright,” Dean muttered.

”And…?” Sam prompted.

”And I’ve said I’m fine.”

Sam stared. ”Aren’t you supposed to be the more emotionally mature one? Even I get that that’s not a proper answer.”

”What would you suggest, huh?” Dean snapped. ”’Hi Cas, sorry I screwed up. Can I please come home?’”

Sam tilted his head and nodded. ”Well, that sounds good.”

”Oh, screw you,” Dean said, but it lacked heat.

”Why did he blow up like that anyway? I’ve never seen him lose his temper like that.”

Dean shrugged, a half-hearted move that left him slumped on the couch. ”Yeah, me neither. We don’t talk much about family issues anyway. I mean, he obviously knew about you from the start, and later, I told him about Mom and Dad. But he…” Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. ”He’s never been comfortable talking about his own family and I always assumed it was just because he didn’t have any. I only learned about Gabe a couple of weeks before I met him.”

”Oh.”

”Yeah. There’s some seriously bad and fucked up blood between Cas and his other siblings. He only mentioned it in passing and refused to elaborate when I asked about it. I figured it wasn’t that important to our lives, so I let it lie.”

Sam let out a noncommittal sound and nodded.

”Gabe turned up on a Friday after I had left for work,” Dean continued. ”Cas texted me and said he was in bad shape and asked if it was okay that he stayed over. I didn’t even see the guy before Saturday morning when he came down for coffee.”

They fell silent for a moment, then Dean huffed.

”What the hell happened, Sammy?”

Sam sighed. He had been waiting for the question. 

”Remember when I told you about the weird hospital clown who was jumping on the beds?” He waited until Dean nodded and then said, flatly, ”Well, apparently, it was Gabe.”

”Okay,” Dean said.

”Okay?” Sam echoed, incredulous. 

”Yeah, okay,” Dean repeated. ”So?” he asked making an impatient Well, go on motion with his hand.

”I ordered him away from the room and told him he was being reckless and irresponsible. I asked if he had permission to be there, and he said yes. As it was, he didn’t. So I let the management know.”

Dean blinked. ”You ratted him out?”

Sam made a face at the choice of words. ”Not as such. I didn’t want to get any of our nurses into a trouble, and I didn’t want to let anyone know it was me…so I sent an inquiry.”

”You what?”

Sam shrugged. ”I sent an email, asking about the possibility to come and entertain kids on a whim, because ’I’ve heard you can moonlight as a hospital clown if you just want to,’ or something like that. Next thing I know, there are announcements that moonlighting isn’t allowed. Nobody has seen him after that.”

”So it never occurred to you to, I don’t know, ask him?”

Sam frowned, annoyed. ”He came back after the first time I told him off, purposefully ignoring the rules and endangering patients. What was there to ask? He clearly didn’t care.”

Dean just looked at him for a good while. ”You know Sam, not everything in life is about abiding by the rules,” he said softly. ”You should try cutting some slack every now and then.”

Irritated about the whole exchange, Sam was in no mood to take lectures in empathy. 

”Maybe you should start cutting some slack yourself,” he said snidely, ignoring the hurt look in Dean’s eyes.  ”I’m going for a run.”

In the long run, it was taxing to share the same, relatively small space, even though they had lived almost literally in each other’s pockets for years. Now when they were adults, things were different. Sam’s set routines rubbed Dean wrong, and Dean’s bohemian lifestyle made Sam irritable and twitchy to the point of trying to micromanage things around Dean. After a couple of screaming matches, they agreed to make it work—if only by the skin of their teeth—because of the extenuating circumstances.

As much as Sam loved his brother, he wished he had his home back to himself already. He tried to encourage Dean go and talk things through with his alpha, but even the slightest push made Dean clam up and sulk. 

In the end, Sam grew frustrated and threatened to go to Cas himself. Dean went completely still for a moment before hissing that perhaps Sam should try and fix his own shit before trying to doctor others people’s problems. Then he stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to make Sam’s reading light flicker.

Seething about the rude departure, Sam wanted to barge after Dean and shout insults at his back. Fortunately for himself and the neighbors, he caught himself in time, so he changed into his gear and went running.

Thing was, Sam knew his brother. Dean always lashed out when he was scared. It didn’t mean Sam liked being used as a safety valve.

Sooner or later, someone had to go to Cas, and Sam was growing more and more sure it was him. Even if he didn’t go to Cas to talk about Dean, he should at least go because of Dean. In spite of Sam’s personal opinion about Gabriel, Cas was the love of Dean’s life, and as much as it grated Sam, he had played a part in this break-up. If he had to fix things with Cas and Gabriel in order to help Dean get back to Cas, he would. 

It didn’t mean he’d enjoy the experience. The alpha was blunt to the point of being rude, but he wasn’t a bully. Cas and Sam had butted heads before, and Sam was quite sure he knew what to expect.

It was Gabriel he was more concerned about.

He wondered if Cas would demand he make amends, demand he apologize. Sam would apologize for causing Gabriel unnecessary harm, but he wouldn’t apologize for his choices. If the need arose, he would do it again. After all, it was the right thing to do.

Of course, if push came to shove, Cas could compel him with his alpha voice, but Sam also knew that Cas wouldn’t do it—hopefully. 

When he came back, Dean was sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream, aggressively watching Game of Thrones. Sam took a shower, made his smoothie, and told Dean he’d go to the library and grocery shopping. Dean didn’t even glance at him.

”Text me if you want something from the store,” Sam said as he grabbed his bike.

He didn’t hurry as he cycled to Cas’s house, but he hesitated a while at the door, wondering if Cas was home, or would even let him in. He knocked anyway.

After a moment, the door chain rattled and the door opened to the grumpy form of Cas. He watched Sam for a good while before he said, tiredly, ”What are you doing here, Sam?”

Sam squared his shoulders and said, ”I was a jerk and out of line. I’m sorry.”

Cas pursed his lips and nodded. ”Yes, you were. And?”

Sam blinked a couple of times. ”I… ” his voice trailed away. He wasn’t sure how to continue.

Cas sighed and rubbed his face. Then he stepped aside and beckoned Sam in.

”Is your brother alright?” Sam asked as Cas closed the door with a soft snick.

”Yes,” Cas answered curtly.

”Can you tell me what happened to him?” Sam asked.

”I could, but I don’t know why I should. Why don’t you go and ask him yourself?”

Sam frowned at his hands. ”I’m not sure he’d talk to me.”

”Well, I can’t really blame him. I’m not sure I would, either.” He watched Sam for a moment with narrowed eyes. ”Why do you want to know, anyway?”

Sam was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, he said, slowly, ”I think you already know that I’m not going to apologize for my actions. I am sorry about the trouble, and even more about this fight between you and Dean, but if he came to the ward tomorrow, I’d report him again.”

Cas considered his words and nodded. ”Fair enough. Thank you for your honesty. But you still didn’t give me a reason to tell you about Gabe.”

”Because of Dean,” Sam said.

Cas’s brows shot up. ”What’s Dean have to do with this?”

”You got angry with me because of your brother, and Dean was…collateral damage.”

Cas huffed and shook his head. ”Believe me, you have nothing to worry about. I’ve been planning on taking Dean out for a while now, to clear the air between us. No matter what you do, you can’t keep me from him.” He paused and gave Sam a serious look. ”Trust me.”

Relieved, Sam nodded. ”I’m glad. Dean’s not doing well. You might want to speed your plans up.”

Cas ducked his head, oddly shy. ”I’m planning on asking him to be my mate,” he said softly.

Sam blinked, slightly taken aback. Mating was rare nowadays, as the majority of people opted for getting married instead of forming a more durable, biologically binding mating bond. It was considered archaic, but some people considered it the ultimate pledge, a sign of devotion between partners.

”Wow,” he breathed. ”It’s none of my business, but I’m glad.”

”Thank you,” Cas said with a small smile. ”Tea?”

It was as clear as a change of topic as any, and Sam gladly accepted it. ”Yeah. White with peppermint, if you have any left.”

While Cas busied himself with the tea, Sam organized his thoughts, considering how to approach the topic of Gabriel once more. He accepted the steaming tea with a nod and frowned at the swirling steam slowly rising from the mug.

”It’s not that I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he started a moment later. ”I’m rigid in my routines and I play by the rules. I need the structures and plans in my life, otherwise, I’m…lost.”

He blew gently at the hot brew and took a sip.

”Your brother pushed my buttons. I got uncomfortable, I guess.”

Cas shrugged. ”I’m not sure if that qualifies as something being wrong,” he said calmly. ”It’s character.” He sighed and leaned forward to lean his elbows on his knees, cradling his tea mug in his hands. ”Did you know that I have several brothers?” Cas asked. 

When Sam shook his head, Cas shrugged and gave a small, stilted smile. 

”Of course you didn’t, I’ve never told you about my family. I’ve barely mentioned them to Dean. There were four of us. Michael, the oldest one, died when he was eleven, and in a way, I’ve always thought that was what spurred Gabe to become a doctor. Leukemia is a bitch, you know?”

”A doctor?” Sam asked.

”Yes. Gabriel was a surgeon, specialized in pediatric orthopedics. I guess you didn’t know that?”

Sam shook his head mutely.

”Well, he doesn’t talk about it. It’s a…painful subject.” Castiel sighed and flopped back on his chair. ”It’s because of Luke.”

”Luke?”

”Yes, Luke. He was Michael’s twin. He donated his bone marrow to Michael, but it didn’t help. It affected him a lot and I guess his career has also been somehow influenced by it.” Cas paused to give Sam a grim smile. ”He’s the CEO of Lightbringer Pharmaceutics.”

Sam blinked. Lightbringer Pharmaceutics was a small but aggressively expanding company, specialized in experimental treatments that often bordered the ethically questionable.

”Anyway. While Luke was determined to invent a cure for cancer, Gabe concentrated on his studies. He graduated as one of the best of his class and soon made a name for himself. He was known to be a sort of…voice of truth in a way; he never operated on a kid if his conscience went against it, and he was able to talk reluctant parents around if the need arose.” Cas fell silent and stared at his mug like it would hold the secrets of the universe. Then he sighed, pushed himself to sit up properly, and downed his tea.

”Do you know about the Adler case?” Cas asked out of the blue.

Sam opened his mouth, taken by surprise by the non-sequitur. ”Um… Wasn’t that about the kid who died due to an incompetent doctor?”

Cas smiled bitterly. ”Yes, that one.” He leaned back in his chair. ”Jake Adler’s father was Luke’s associate and golf buddy. At some point, he had told Luke about his son’s condition—which is sealed just like everything else about his case—and Luke promised he’d get Gabe to operate on Jake. But Gabe said no. As far as I know, Gabe didn’t think the surgery was worth the pain and uncertainty .

”Luke didn’t accept a refusal. He made it a show of alpha dominance and, at the end, he was able to talk Gabe over.” He paused to give Sam a wry grin. ”Did I mention we’re all alphas? Mike was, too. Our poor parents…” 

Sam wasn’t sure of what to say. ”I suppose it was interesting, at least,” he offered.

Cas snorted. ”An understatement. From what I’ve heard from Gabe, Mike used to balance Luke a lot. After he died, Luke’s ambition was allowed to grow unchallenged. Gabe tried what he could, but…” Cas shrugged. ”Neither Gabe nor I have been much into power plays.”

Briefly, Sam wondered where their parents had been, but he declined from asking. It was none of his business, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more emotionally taxing stories of Cas’s childhood.

”Anyway,” Cas said, ”Gabe operated against his will and his gut. He was right, of course. The surgery was difficult, there were complications and the child, unfortunately, died shortly after the operation.

”Despite being the one who had bullied Gabe into operation, Luke blamed him, probably to save himself from taking any responsibility. He attacked Gabe’s career, spewing lies and contacting hospitals around the country, practically shredding him to pieces. He destroyed every chance for Gabe ever practicing his profession again. 

”The only thing that kept him from going to jail was Gabe’s colleagues who testified for his character, but the child’s death was all on Gabe. His license was revoked and he was denied access to hospitals unless escorted and as a relative of an inpatient.

”The aftermath was terrible. His face was all over the papers, he was called a child killer by the tabloids, and he was broke because the Adler family took everything in a civil suit. His long-time fiancé left him due to ’trust issues,’” the air quotes were more than evident. ”Kali Kumar is an executive at Lightbringer nowadays,” he added, disgusted.

”Gabe went off the grid for several years. I have no idea what happened to him, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I honestly thought Gabe had killed himself. Then, one day, he called me and asked where I lived.”

For a moment, neither said anything. Finally, Cas let out a long breath. ”I hope you understand now why Gabe left after you said he could’ve killed someone.”

”I had no idea,” Sam said slowly. ”And even though I can understand why he didn’t have proper permission, I still think he acted wrong.”

”Well, that’s something you have to talk with him about. Assuming he wants to talk with you.”

Sam nodded. It was a dismissal, and he rose to take his leave.

”Oh, and Sam? I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell Dean,” Cas said. ”About my plans.” 

Sam huffed. ”Don’t worry, your secret if safe with me. But please hurry, I don’t think my apartment can handle more of his misery.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas walked him to the door. Sam was surprised to see it was already growing dark. He hadn’t realized he had stayed so long.

He took a scenic route home. He had a lot of thinking to do.

The thing about introspection was that it was rarely pleasant. 

Sam had been honest when he’d told Cas that he knew his flaws. He knew he trusted in his routines and wasn’t comfortable with changing them. He liked the easy structure of rules and well-made plans and enjoyed when he didn’t have to worry about the uncertainty of half-assery. 

Of course, that also meant that to some, he was taxing company. In college, he had declined party invitations and set strict rules to his roommates. As a result, it had earned him a reputation as an uptight nitpicker who’d never get laid. The dumbfounded looks on his college classmates’ faces when they saw Madison for the first time was priceless—if one happened to appreciate that sort of thing.

His peers had never quite wrapped their minds around the fact that a nerd like Sam had nailed someone like Madison. He didn’t understand the fuss and just rolled his eyes when his roommate said it must’ve been Sam’s monster cock.

He had no idea what sex had to do with any of it.

Madison had been—and still was—the only one he’d ever had sex with. It wasn’t like he was sex-repulsed or impotent, he just didn’t really see the point. Sex was nice, it felt good, but he didn’t miss it. When Madison went to San Francisco for her internship, he missed kissing and cuddling on the couch with Madison and a good book, but sex? Frankly, Sam forgot about the whole thing.

If he was being honest, it had been one of the breaking points in their relationship, along with the kid issue.

Madison had always been passionate and into things, following her gut instincts. When they’d been teenagers, it hadn’t mattered as much, but their differences became more prominent as they matured and graduated. Where Sam enjoyed the set schemes and routines of his work, Madison thrived as a PA in a lawyer’s office where instincts and the ability to adapt to the flow were more important than carefully drawn plans.

She would’ve hated Sam’s life and Sam would’ve gone crazy in a week if he’d been forced to switch places with her.

No matter how ugly things had gone in the end, breaking up with Madison had been the right thing to do.

However, being content with his life didn’t mean Sam didn’t understand that he was difficult to deal with and that his routines would drive an average person to the walls.

Almost a week had gone since the almost uncomfortably revealing conversation with Cas, and Sam was getting desperate. After three weeks of living together with Dean, he was on his last nerves, and he knew Dean’s patience was wearing thin as well. His morning routines were shot to hell, he was seriously behind his reading schedule, and he was contemplating another visit to Cas to remind him about his plans.

It was a Thursday evening, Dean had bitched him about the lentil salad he had made for dinner which had made him snap, ”I don’t care if you say you can’t eat it, you’re NOT getting bacon into this apartment, you hear me!” which had resulted in Dean sulking on the couch. Sam was this close of throwing Dean out and asking him to go for a beer or something when his phone beeped.

”What the hell?” Dean muttered, staring at his phone.

Sam made a noncommittal sound he hoped wouldn’t prompt Dean to answer. He hoped wrong.

”Why’s he asking me to meet him in the park? Because he doesn’t want me in his house anymore?”

Sam didn’t need to ask who Dean was talking about. He also had a pretty good guess of what Cas was about. Finally!

”Or, he wanted to propose a neutral ground to avoid making you uncomfortable,” he said, wincing internally at his word choice. 

Fortunately, Dean was too intent on searching for hidden meanings from Cas’s text to notice Sam’s Freudian slip.

”And a park is a neutral space?”

Sam rested his book on his lap. ”Well, it’s a lot more neutral than a house he pointed out he owns, but is still filled with your junk,” Sam said, raising a brow.

Dean bit his lip. ”So you say I should go?” he asked carefully, staring at his phone.

”I’m not saying you should,” Sam said and sighed. ”I just know that Cas made you happier than I’ve ever seen you before. Maybe you should, I don’t know, think about how he makes you feel and figure out if you want to have it again?”

Dean made a face. ”When did you get that smart? Isn’t this,” he waved his hands around in a vague motion, ”emotional stuff beyond you?”

”What,” Sam said flatly.

”I mean, with your routines and shit…” Dean’s voice trailed away and he looked slightly embarrassed.

”I bet that sounded a lot better in your head.”

Dean rolled his eyes and flipped him off. ”You know what I mean. You’ve always been, like, not into people.”

Sam frowned and thought about how to express himself. ”It’s not about people as such,” he finally said slowly. ”It’s about the expectations, I guess. I do feel, but…” He let out a long breath and cocked his head. ”When you think about Cas, what’s most important? What makes him the one for you?”

Dean shrugged and pursed his lips, but didn’t argue about ’the one’ comment. After a moment of contemplation, he said, ”I feel safe. Good. Grounded. Like…he’s my anchor or something like that. And the sex is awesome,” he added with a leery wink.

”See, for me, it’s not like that,” Sam said. ”For instance, sex? Doesn’t do much for me and—”

”Really?” 

Sam nodded. ”It’s nice, but that’s pretty much it. I wouldn’t consider it a downside, living the rest of my life without sex.”

”Really?!” Dean’s voice rose high. ”But… What about kissing and cud—shit?”

”Kissing and cuddling aren’t synonyms for sex,” Sam retorted, amused. ”And I like those. I just don’t see the point of sex.” He raised his finger as a warning. ”And I don’t need comparative examples, thank you.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, and then blurted, ”Are you impotent?” 

Sam pressed his face into his hands. ”For fuck’s sake, Dean!” he groaned. ”No, I’m not impotent. I guess I’m asexual, if you need a label to feel more comfortable.” 

He stood up, put his book on the bed for later, and rummaged his freezer for smoothie ingredients.

”So, are you going to meet up with Cas?” he asked pointedly, wishing the discussion about his sexuality was over.

Dean let out a long breath, pressed his lips together in a tight line, and nodded. ”Yeah. I guess I am.”

Sam nodded at him and turned to hide his smile.

Dean met Cas the next day and didn’t come back after. Sam was fervently relieved.

On Sunday, Dean texted him and asked if he could pop by and collect his stuff. He arrived alone, bright-eyed and smiling blissfully, sporting a whole round of love bites around his neck. He babbled about random stuff when he stuffed his clothes, books, and tidbits into his duffel, and Sam winced at the brutality the clothes faced. He should’ve known Dean wouldn’t care about the carefully folded shirts and rolled belts, but it would’ve been nice at least to acknowledge Sam had washed up his stuff.

”—and he asked if I’d ’honor him by agreeing to be his mate,’” Dean said, finger quotes firmly in place and a goofy grin on his face. 

”Congratulations,” Sam said with a fond smile.

Dean stopped his rant and narrowed his eyes. ”You don’t seem that surprised,” he said, and then his eyes went wide. ”You fucker, you knew!”

”Cas mentioned his plans to me when I went to talk to him a couple of weeks ago,” Sam admitted.

Dean shook his head in obvious confusion. ”Why?”

”Why I went to talk to him? Because I wanted to apologize for acting like an ass. And before you ask, I said I was sorry for the trouble I caused for his brother, but I wasn’t sorry I enforced the rules.”

”Yeah, of course you weren’t,” Dean said. ”But hey, I know you, you like rules.” 

Sam gave him a sharp look, but for once his words were genuine. ”Yeah,” he said. ”Anyway, Cas told me something about his brother which has made me think a lot lately.” He turned towards his kitchen and asked, ”You want coffee? I still have some Jamaican Blue left.”

Dean raised a brow at his abrupt change of topic but didn’t question it, just flopped to sit at the table.

”So, are you going to say yes?” Sam asked as he filled the percolator.

Dean let out a strangled giggle that was only mildly laced with panic. ”Dude, hell yeah!”

Sam grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. ”I absolutely forbid you from telling me anything about your mating night, or I swear I’ll feed you kale for the next three months.”

Now that Dean had said yes, Sam knew he had to at least try to patch things up with Cas’s brother. If Gabriel was the only family with whom Cas was keeping any contact with, Sam owed him as much. They were likely to cross paths sooner rather than later, and if Sam could do anything to ease the awkwardness of future holiday reunions, he would do his part.

He sent Cas a text and asked for Gabe’s number. Cas’s answer didn’t take long.

> Why?

> Because I’d like to make amends and explain myself.

A moment later, his phone beeped again.

> I’ll get back to you.

Sam nodded, satisfied that things were progressing. 

In the meantime, he concentrated on getting his life back on track after the disturbance that his brother’s presence had been. He cleaned up the whole apartment, washed the window, took the couch covers to the dry cleaners, and organized his books and reading lists back into the way they had been before Dean. The familiar routines and solitude calmed and centered him, and the tension that had built over the weeks slowly leached out of his frame.

It was good to feel like himself again.

At work, he was able to focus better on his patients and their progression, which didn’t go unnoticed by the nurses. They raised their brows at his more relaxed appearance and the easy way he talked, and it didn’t take them long to draw the obvious conclusions.

”So, who is she?” Darla asked one day when Sam was organizing his papers for the following day.

”What?”

”Or is it he?” The secretary raised a knowing brow, sharing a grin with Tanya.

Sam looked from Darla to Tanya and back. ”Who?” he asked then, slightly lost.

Tanya rolled her eyes and poked his shoulder. ”We want to know who’s the magician that’s made you mellow.”

”There’s no magician,” he said. ”No, there really isn’t. My brother got back together with his alpha and I have my home back to myself again.”

Tanya blinked and shared an incredulous look with Darla. ”That’s it?” she asked.

”That’s it,” Sam confirmed and handed her a note. ”The instruction for Kaylee’s exercises,” he said and left the office.

When he was on his way out, he checked his phone and saw Cas had sent him Gabe’s number. He cycled home at a leisurely pace, composing a speech in his head. He wasn’t sure if Gabe would even let him speak or if he’d even answer the phone, but it was a chance he’d take.

At home, showered and sipping a glass of water, he punched in the number and waited. It rang for a couple of times, then went to voicemail.

Sam nodded and drew breath.

”Hi, Gabe, this is Sam. Dean’s brother. If you allow me, I’d like a chance to explain myself. I understand that, to you, my actions probably seem mean and petty, but I assure you, that’s not the case. No matter what my brother says, I don’t endorse boredom, but I like to follow rules instead. 

”Now that our brothers are about to go through mating rituals, I feel like I owe them—and you—a chance to make things better. If you agree, please let me know where and when. If not, I’ll accept your decision.”

He spoke with a measured pace, knowing that his message would stay under 45 seconds. When he was done, he ended the call and picked up his book.

A couple of hours later, his phone beeped.

> Fine.

The first meeting was a disaster.

Wanting to redeem his standoffish behavior, Sam had agreed to meet Gabriel in a coffee shop of his choosing, even though he disliked them on principal. They were usually crowded, noisy, and served either blatantly bad, overpriced coffee or some odd concoction that had more processed syrups and cream than actual coffee. He had been irritable from the start, Gabriel had been on edge, and the meeting had ended in hissed words and Gabriel storming off after a mere ten minutes.

The text Sam had gotten from Dean a couple of hours later was perhaps one of the most expressive his brother had ever sent him.

Sam gave Gabriel a couple of days to cool his head before texting him and asking if they could try again. He wasn’t quite sure why he sent the text in the first place, other than his stubborn decision to fix things between them. 

>Why the fuck would I want to see you again

It wasn’t even phrased as a question, but Sam treated it like one anyway.

>Because we’re going to have to at least try being civilized, what with our brothers bonding and everything.

>So?

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

>So, we should meet again and, you know, actually talk.

The answer took time, and Sam surprised himself by tapping his fingers against the table top. Nervous ticks weren’t usually his thing.

>Fine. Whatever. Where?

It took them some time to re-negotiate a place they both felt comfortable with. Even with his determination to clear things up between them, Sam was reluctant to let Gabriel in his home (mostly because he had only recently reclaimed it from the Dean invasion), and he wasn’t going to subject himself to another coffee house experience. After some heated messaging back and forth, they finally settled on meeting in a quiet corner of the park. It was a public place, but not too noisy or crowded, and—most importantly—Sam could bring his own coffee. 

The next Saturday, he packed a couple of sandwiches to go and made sure he had an extra mug with him. On his way to the park, Sam was surprised to realize he was nervous and he didn’t understand why. This definitely was not a date, and he had absolutely nothing to prove to anyone. It was odd.

Gabriel was waiting for him at the picnic table and greeted him with a wary nod. He accepted the coffee Sam offered, took a careful sip, and set it aside with a slightly wrinkled nose. Sam didn’t mind; Gabriel had practically inhaled the overly sweet travesty of coffee at the coffee shop, and Sam’s brew was most likely too bitter for him.  At least he nibbled at the sandwich, Sam noticed, satisfied. Gabriel should probably eat more; he had the gaunt look of someone who didn’t bother eating nearly often or healthily enough. 

They sat in silence for some time, watching silently at a boy playing with a dog that looked like a bastard love child of a Husky and a Rottweiler. Then, finally, Gabriel braced his arms on the table, gently pressed his fingertips together, and gave Sam a serious look.

”Cassie said I needed to give you a second chance to explain yourself,” he said. ”So, explain.”

Sam nodded and frowned. ”First, I want to say that I’m sorry about how I handled everything,” he started. ”I should probably point out that I’m not going to apologize for following the rules, though, but I never meant to cause you harm.”

”But you did.”

Sam nodded. ”But I did,” he echoed.

Gabriel cocked his head and gave Sam a long look that seemed to bore into his mind. ”So… What’s up with you?” he asked. ”Why did you want to meet me in the first place?”

”Because of Dean.”

Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes. ”Well, thanks. Way to make a guy feel important.”

Sam sighed. ”Don’t be an idiot. You are important. You are the only family Cas has, and Dean is the only family I have. We’re bound to meet every now and then, and even though I might not be your biggest fan, I’m willing to work things out to make Dean and Cas’s lives better.”

”Very gallant of you,” Gabriel mocked with a raised brow. ”What makes you think I want anything to do with a tight-ass like you?”

Sam refused to rise to the bait. ”Nothing,” he said calmly. ”But at least I’m willing to try.”

”Huh,” Gabriel huffed and nibbled his sandwich.

They didn’t talk much after that. Sam drank his coffee with small, meticulous sips and stifled the urge to clean up the mess Gabriel made as he tore the sandwich into small pieces before eating it.

After all, Dean always told him to step outside his comfort zone.

All in all, the meeting wasn’t a raging success, but Sam was still satisfied. He had apologized and left Gabriel to decide what came next. He was okay with the solemn nods they shared before they went their separate ways, but if Gabriel wanted to talk more, Sam was okay with that, too. 

Cas and Dean decided on a small mating ceremony, which was no surprise. Cas didn’t keep in contact with anyone other than Gabriel, and Dean and Sam’s parents were dead, so their immediate family wasn’t big. Cas would’ve been happy with just the four of them, but Dean wanted to invite a couple of his closest friends. The guest list was still less than ten people, which was why Sam didn’t understand why Gabriel was going overboard with the planning, adamant on reserving a room at the community center.

In fact, Sam didn’t really get why Cas and Dean had asked Gabriel in the first place, but it was their ceremony. As long as they were happy, Sam had no complaints.

Well, except about the catering.

Gabriel happened to have very strong opinions about the food in general, and since Dean’s only wish was for several different kinds of pie, Sam tried to act as the voice of reason. Gabriel’s interpretation about proper mating ceremony food seemed to consist mainly of sweet treats, and Sam refused to have it. 

”Cook me something delicious and healthy, and I might consider it,” Gabriel said haughtily.

And that was how they ended up at Sam’s place with Gabriel’s planning papers all over Sam’s coffee table while Sam cooked for him. 

Slowly, it became something they did. It was irritable, annoying, and downright frustrating at first because Gabriel stubbornly refused to bend to Sam’s rules about how he should organize his papers, and he repeatedly left them lying around. Sam poured his mood into stress cooking and jogging, and then bought a filer for Gabriel to organize all his planning material in. Gabriel never said anything, but the stray papers gradually found their way into the filer.

At times, Gabriel ended up falling asleep on Sam’s couch. Sam didn’t have it in him to wake him up and kick him out, mostly because he didn’t know where Gabriel lived (or if he even had a home), and covering him with a spare blanket made something flare in Sam’s chest.

As weeks went by, Gabriel grew slowly less jaded and Sam became more and more accustomed to having him in his space. It didn’t mean they didn’t fight or that they didn’t storm out to cool off, but they both came back.

The ceremony was beautiful. Somehow, Gabriel had managed to convert the somewhat drab community center room into a warm and intimate space that was elegant without being too fancy. He had even color coordinated everything in deep purple, azure, and gray.

Sam was thoroughly impressed.

Dean and Cas had eyes only for each other, though. They stood in front of the officiator, facing each other with dopey smiles. Cas spoke his vows with his low, sure voice while Dean’s voice broke right in the beginning and he finished his vows with a hoarse whisper, and they would all deny to their dying days that their eyes were wet.

As per the mating pair’s request, they had four kinds of pie, microbrewery beer, and rolled tacos. After a couple of rounds of tasting, Sam had perfected the tacos to both Gabriel and Dean’s liking, and he was satisfied with having something healthy on the table besides the fruit. Gabriel had mocked him about it, saying it didn’t really matter what they ate on one day, but Sam had been determined to fix the recipe. The result was pretty good.

Gabriel had arranged the tables into one, big square table which fit their whole small party. There were only seven of them anyway: the newly mated pair, Sam, Gabriel, Dean’s best friend Benny, and Charlie, Sam and his friend from years back, with her wife Gilda. Benny’s girlfriend Andrea had been called to work to the ER which was a shame, but they all understood the necessity. Dean graciously promised Benny he could take decent slices of pie to her.

When Cas and Dean swayed slowly to some fifties rockabilly ballad, fully absorbed in each other, Sam leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer. The selection had been Gabriel’s idea, which had surprised Sam. Looking back, he wasn’t sure why. In the weeks leading to the ceremony, he had slowly started to realize what a brilliant mind hid under Gabriel’s obnoxious exterior. True, it was buried under layers of sarcastic comments and acting out, but it was there if one bothered to look. And lately, Sam had bothered a lot.

”Are you planning your own?” 

Sam glanced to his side at Charlie’s flushed face. She had exploited the dancing floor to the fullest, dragging both Benny and Cas into some weird dance that involved robotic posturing and wild windmilling of hands before she had fallen into Gilda’s arms for several languid songs.

”My own what?” Sam asked with a confused smile.

Charlie bumped him on the shoulder as she plopped down on a chair right next to him. ”Your own mating ceremony, of course,” she said and rolled her eyes.

”With whom?”

She blinked and jerked her head at Gabriel in a totally non-subtle way. ”Umm…that alpha with whom you’ve been bickering like a married couple all night?” 

”We’re not together, you know.”

”Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Sam gave her a long-suffering, fond sigh and wrapped his arm around her. ”It’s not like that,” he said. ”We’re just friends.” He was slightly surprised realizing he actually meant that.

”Friends is good, too,” Charlie said easily. ”You could do with more friends, Moose-man.”

He rolled his eyes at the old nickname. ”Thank you, Queen of Moondoor,” he said with a polite nod.

She snorted a laugh, patted him on the head, and left to take her wife for yet another round on the dance floor. Sam watched after her, shook his head, and stood up to gather the empty beer bottles into a basket.

”Is there a reason you don’t dance?” Gabriel asked from behind him.

Sam turned and cocked his head. ”Not really. Why?”

Gabriel shrugged, tucked his hands into his pockets, and said, ”No reason.”

”I can dance, if you want to,” Sam offered.

”Yeah, sure,” Gabriel said and sniffed a little, as if it was no big deal.

It was slightly awkward when neither of them was really sure where to put their hands, but at the end, Gabriel huffed, hugged Sam close, and rested his temple on Sam’s shoulder. They swayed slowly until the song ended and another started and, weirdly, Sam didn’t feel awkward.

”Thanks for tolerating me,” Gabriel said somewhere in the middle of the second song.

”You’re welcome.”

”No, I mean it.” Gabriel paused and lifted his head to frown up at Sam. ”I know I’m a mess and a lot to take in.”

”Generally, everyone’s a mess,” he said. 

”Fine. Be difficult and refuse an honest compliment,” Gabriel grumbled and poked Sam on the side to resume the swaying. After a moment, he said, ”I know you’re not looking for a relationship. That’s okay because I’m not looking either. Just wanted to make it clear.”

”Okay,” Sam said. ”Friends?” He still didn’t know what had happened to Gabriel, but he realized he didn’t really care. He didn’t need to know to be Gabriel’s friend.

”Yeah, friends,” Gabriel said and tucked his head into the crook of Sam’s neck.

That sounded good.