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Dean reached across the table and wiped the mayonnaise smudged on Sam’s upper lip.
“I definitely think old man Hayes was hiding something in that basement.”
Sam blinked and stared at his brother, who seemed unaware that he just did something so… ‘boyfriendy’ in the middle of a crowded diner. In Texas.
“I mean,” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of cheeseburger, “he almost wet his pants when you thought that was the door to the bathroom. Never seen someone pushing ninety move so damn fast. You don’t think he’s got his wife down there, do you? Like in Psycho?”
Sam watched Dean reach across the table again, only this time it was to steal a crouton from his salad. When Dean popped the crunchy square into his mouth, Sam felt something rub up against his calf. Ok, now Dean was playing footsie with him and not even having the decency to look as unsure about it as Sam felt.
They’d been doing this now for fifty three days. Two weeks after they’d lost Bobby.
Sam remembered it like it was yesterday.
Dean had fallen asleep with his hand curled around a bottle. Again. It was mean spirited of Sam, they were both still grieving after all, but he was scared of the downhill slant Dean was determined to throw himself down. He’d grabbed the bottle out of Dean’s hand and thrown it against the wall, startling Dean so much that he was up, gun in Sam’s face in a second.
There was shouting and cursing, punches were thrown by both of them, but then Sam had kissed Dean so hard that he’d tasted blood.
After that, things had just… developed. It hadn’t been easy, nothing between them ever was, but they were more in tune than they had ever been, and Dean had started looking ‘alive’ again. Not the shadowy, hollow creature that Sam was scared of losing every second of every day.
“Sammy? Do you think we should go back there?”
Sam looked down at his hand which was being stroked lightly by Dean’s fingertips.
“Are you with me? What’s up with you today?”
Dean sat back against the worn red leather seat of the booth they were in, casual as you like, and smirked.
“Dean… you…”
Sam couldn’t finish stuttering out his sentence because he was being rudely interrupted by the perkiest waitress that ever lived.
“Are you boys ready for desert? We have some amazing fresh cream cakes, ice cream that is to die for, hot and cold pies, fruit salad…”
“Pies? Oh, yes, we are ready to order.”
“Well that’s just fantastic. Cherry, apple, or caramel cream?”
Sam smiled when Dean’s mouth dropped open a little. He was surprised that he didn’t see any drool falling on the table.
“Umm, I’ll have apple… no cherry… no…”
“Can you bring him a slice of each,” Sam said, rolling his eyes at the waitress. “I’ll have the fruit salad, thanks.”
“Ok, no problem. You two are just the cutest.”
Sam ducked his head, blushing furiously. He felt too exposed. He was used to hiding what he felt for Dean behind closed doors or inside the feeling of security that the Impala gave him. They were never so open in public.
And Dean didn’t look bothered by it at all.
“What the fuck, Dean. Why are you acting all, all… You’re acting all…”
Dean shut Sam up with a quick kiss, right on the mouth, in front of anyone and everyone. It may as well have been the whole world.
“Don’t ruin by buzz, Sammy. We’re having a nice dinner and nothing’s tried to kill us today. Just relax.”
Dean’s eyes softened at seeing Sam still so visibly flustered by his behaviour.
“I’m proud to be with you, Sam, ok? I love you so just shut up and leave it alone.”
“Dean…”
Perky waitress was back again before Sam could even take in Dean’s words. They’d never actually said that to each other yet, even though they both knew it.
“Pies for you sweetheart and fruit salad for you.”
“Mmm, thank you..?”
“Lexi,” the waitress giggled, immune to Dean’s killer watt smile. She walked away with a definite spring in her step.
Dean scooped a forkful of cherry pie into his mouth and moaned happily, crumbs gathering all along his lips. Sam reached over and held onto Dean’s chin while he swept the crumbs away with his thumb.
“I love you too, Dean.”
“I know,” Dean mumbled, his mouth still full of pie. “Eat your fruit, Princess.”
Sam smiled, hooked his foot around his brother’s ankle and did as he was told.