A Month of Our Favorite Idiots

Holding Hands

Sam is about ready to kill the both of them.

He can handle the staring into each other's souls, getting separate rooms, even the innuendos, but THIS? This was too much.

Sam stared at Dean and Cas' intertwined hands from the backseat (where Dean had forced him to sit, claiming Sam "always sat up front") with a blank look of pure "I'm am done dealing with you morons." Not two minutes ago, Dean had reached out and taken the angel's hand, not that Cas had objected, and threw a smile over at him. And he hadn't let go or anything, nope, they were still holding hands like it was the most normal thing in the world, like they had just *forgotten* that Sam was sitting there in the backseat.

But when Dean started rubbing circles onto Cas' hand with his thumb, that was when Sam lost it.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam totally-did-not-shout-like-a-ten-year-old-girl.

"What do you mean?" Dean said, not pulling either his eyes from the road or his hand from the angel.

"That!" Sam screeched, aggressively gesturing to the blasphemy going on on the middle seat.

"A plus explanation Sam, that cleared up everything," Dean snarked, rolling his eyes.

"Dean, I think what he's confused about is our hand holding. I still don't think he knows," Castiel monotoned.

"Don't know what?" Sam asked, at the same time his brother cried, "How do you not know?"

Dean finally let go of Cas to pull over onto the shoulder and turn to face Sam.

"How do you not know?" Dean repeated. "I thought it was pretty freakin' obvious, Sam!"

"What's obvious, Dean?"

"The fact that Cas and I are together!"

"You and Cas are together?"

Dean scrubbed at his face, muttering something about Sam being the smart one. "We always get a different room than you. We're constantly having chick flick moments. Hell, I let him eat off my damn fork, Sam!"

Sam smirked and shook his head, gaping all the same. "I owe Bobby ten bucks."

Dean sighed, pulled back onto the road, and slipped his hand back into Cas'. "Idiot."