Not Everyone [Chuck/Sam]
Title: Not Everyone
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Sam/Chuck
Rating: PG
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Words: 2000
Summary: Chuck's amused by how dense Dean is. Castiel is in love with him, and he doesn't even realize it. How stupid could he be?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: Written as sort of companion piece for "He Loves You (and you know you should be glad)" by janie-tangerine, which is the original Dean/Cas side of this. Both can be read seperately, and this should not be taken as an add-on to her universe. General plot credit goes to her, except the part where it doesn't, because... well. Never mind. Make sense? ♥
The call comes early in the morning, or at least, it does for Chuck. For most people, for average people, the call clocks in around six in the evening. But, for Chuck... that is morning, and, well, Chuck isn't exactly what you'd call average. He has odd sleeping patterns, odd eating habits, odd personal traits, and a love life too odd to even talk about.
Oh right.
The phone's ringing.
It's less than an hour later, and Chuck is sitting in the Impala, in the back seat, next to Sam. Dean's not one to be hit with a good mood often, so, when it comes, well... no one complains. Chuck wouldn't even consider saying no, not to Sam. Not to the Winchesters, he means. Because they're really the only friends he's got. He doesn't mean to get all mushy about it, but he likes when they invite him out. Even if he kind of actually hates the going out part of it.
He kind of likes his couch.
"It's Hellraiser, dude!" Dean is arguing the legit awesomeness of the film, sitting comfortably beside Castiel. They wound up at a drive-in, somewhere Chuck hadn't been since he was a kid. And, honestly, watching some guy trying to convince a girl to help him regenerate or something... well, it probably would have been more entertaining when he was a kid. But he couldn't complain, nothing about this night was bad. Or, at least, it wasn't. Until Sam left.
"I've seen this movie like twenty-three times, Dean!" Sam sighs as he slumps down in the seat, knee pushing at Chuck's leg.
"Doesn't even matter, Sammy!" Dean is grinning, eyes glued to the screen in front of them. "Doesn't even matter."
Apparently, it does matter, because Sam is pushing his way out of the car, leaving Chuck alone in a seat that suddenly feels too big. But, he doesn't follow, because he's not there for Sam. He's there to spend time with Dean and Cas too, or so he thinks, until Dean is sending him a look that makes him rethink that thought.
It's not long until Chuck is walking through the rows of cars, wishing Sam's legs weren't so long and... fast. Luckily, said Winchester is taking his time, wandering aimlessly, and Chuck catches up.
"Hey," he says easily, glad he didn't have to run. He was already slightly breathless, and he'd really only been walking. Quickly, perhaps, but walking nonetheless.
"You've seen it thirty-seven times too?" Sam grins as he looks down at him. Chuck kind of hates Sam and his stupid long legs.
"Thought it was twenty-three?" Chuck finally falls into step beside him as they leave the rows of cars behind them.
"Oh, I don't know." Sam shakes his head, keeping his eyes on Chuck. It's kind of nervewracking. But, Chuck won't mention. "I mostly just wanted to get out of Dean's way."
"Why?" Chuck knows.
"You know why."
Yeah. He did.
"Do you think Dean's figured it out yet?" Chuck asks bravely, realizing that even though he and Sam had been rolling their eyes at the situation for months, neither of them had ever really come out and said anything about it.
"I don't think... Dean pays attention like that." Sam slows even more, and Chuck is grateful for that. 'Casual wandering' for Sam is like a frantic attempt to keep up for Chuck. So this? This is nice.
"How can he... how would he possibly miss that?" Chuck smirks in disbelief as they turn down an old escape route. It's a dirt path more than anything, and Chuck's afraid that it may get too dark.
"Dean just isn't really very... smart." Sam laughs, and Chuck can't help it; he laughs too. It was true, at times, and that was amusing. Dean is a genius at some things, many things, but somehow... he still manages to completely miss the way Cas looks at him.
"He's gotta realize it though, right? I mean... maybe he just doesn't know how to acknowledge it, so he doesn't." Chuck shoves his hands in his pockets in an awkward attempt to still them. Somehow, they keep brushing against Sam's legs, bumping into his wrist, and Chuck's pretty sure he doesn't wanna get his ass kicked for accidentally hitting on a hunter in what is literally a dark alley.
"I don't think so, Chuck. You know," Sam stops quickly, suddenly, and it takes a second for Chuck to even realize. When he looks back at Sam, his face is amused in a way that's sort of sad, and Chuck really can't understand why. "Not everyone is smart enough to realize when someone's interested in them." Sam bites off his words with something sort of sharp as he turns to walk back the way they came.
Chuck doesn't even ask.
Chuck hangs out in Sam's motel room a lot. The room he shares. With Dean. Dean's a good guy, and Chuck generally likes him, but sometimes, he gives Sam these looks... like, the kind of looks that people used to throw around in high school, when they'd just been talking about Chuck, and were afraid of getting caught or something. Chuck is sort of on edge about this, really on edge about this, because why would they be talking about him? More importantly, what would they be saying?
But, Sam usually puts an end to the awkward glances as quick as they can start, and for that, Chuck thinks he loves him.
Until.... maybe he doesn't anymore. Because now they actually are talking, low and quiet in the corner of the room. Chuck tries not to notice as he shifts on the bed, Dean's bed. Is this Sam's bed? Chuck's not even sure. He'd camped out there a few hours ago, covering his lap with notebooks and papers. He hadn't really considered that he might be in the way. Was this Dean's bed? Well, it was someone's bed, and...
Dean was leaving.
Chuck watches with a heavy heart as Dean shuts the door behind himself, fiddling with the collar of his shirt as he walks past the window.
"Uh... I guess..." Sam's voice is soft and shaky from across the room, and Chuck doesn't even want to look at him as he quickly works to pile up his papers. "I guess you're staying with me tonight. Dean is going to spend the night with Castiel, is that okay?"
Chuck's hands still over the papers as he tries to imagine what a night with Sam would be like. If it were any other night, he'd be ecstatic. Chuck is... sort of fond of Sam. But it wasn't any other night, it was this night, and Chuck's fairly sure that Sam and Dean were just talking about him, and that Dean had left because...
Because everyone always leaves when Chuck hangs around for too long.
"Yeah. That's okay." Chuck really wants to know who's bed he's on. "Um, why though?"
Sam smiles softly, an expression that is happy and fond. "Because, Chuck, remember? Not everyone is smart enough to realize when someone's interested in them. Sometimes, you have to push it right in their face." Sam stretches as he says the words, bending his arms back behind his head, and Chuck hates that. Sam does that a lot. Sam's shirts are too short for... stretches like that. Yeah... Chuck... he hates it.
"I don't even understand them," Chuck admits. He's more comfortable now, now that Dean is gone and the room is less awkward, except Sam is doing that thing, that stupid thing he does, where he locks his arms back behind his head for a while, and his shirt, his stupid shirt, it just stays up on his skin, and Chuck --
"What do you not understand? It's like... it's the most basic schoolyard crush I've ever seen, dude." Sam sighs out the words, soft and low and quiet.
Chuck swallows hard.
He's not sure why.
"Why would Dean go over there... when he... doesn't even realize that Cas is in love with him?" Chuck's sort of not even sure what he's saying, because Sam is moving now, dropping down to sit on the edge of the free bed. Chuck feels guilty for having laid claim first. What if Sam wanted this one?
"He wanted to?" Sam shrugs as he pulls off his shirt.
Chuck swallows hard.
He's not sure why.
"Why?" Chuck's not even curious, not at all, really. It's a dumb question, and he's vaguely aware of this. But Sam somehow decides that all of his clothes need to come off, and his jeans are going rather quickly. So talking? Talking is good.
"I don't know, Chuck, because I told him to?" Sam says the words incredulously, as if it should have been obvious. And Chuck just nods, until... wait. What?
"What?" Chuck shifts to the far edge of the bed, without consciously deciding to do so. Sam is sitting beside him now. On Chuck's bed. On Dean's bed. On Sam's bed? And why? Why is Sam sitting beside him?
"You really are..." Sam moves in closer, pressing his leg against Chuck's, "absolutely..." Chuck feels his heartbeat quicken as Sam leans in further, pushing papers and pens to the floor, "ridiculous."
The word is like a punch, or a kick, or... a kiss.
A kiss?
Sam closes the distance easily, and Chuck doesn't back away. His lips are soft and sweet, and... if Chuck is completely honest with himself, maybe for the first time ever, then he'd realize that... he's been thinking about this moment for far too long. Sam presses lightly, a barely-there contact against Chuck's lips, and Chuck wonders why he does it. Maybe he's not sure if he wants it? Maybe... maybe he's not sure if Chuck wants it.
Chuck closes his eyes as he presses back, moving for the first time since Sam settled in next to him. On the bed. In nothing but a pair of blue boxers.
Chuck doesn't remember deciding to be a complete spaz after that. In fact, he's pretty sure if he'd thought about it, he would have slapped himself in the face, at least. But he's on top of Sam now, pushing and pulling at him until he's laying flat on the bed, warm and hard under Chuck's body. Sam's hands are on Chuck's back, pushing at his shirt, and... huh. Sam really likes people to be naked, it seems.
Chuck presses his hand to the side of Sam's face, feeling his skin flush and throb under his fingertips. It's a wonderful feeling, because it's all for him. Sam Winchester is blushing for him.
And it isn't until then, that it really hits Chuck.
"What's wrong?" Sam looks worried for a moment as Chuck pulls away, bracing his hands on either side of Sam's face. Sam is breathing hard, eyes dark, lips wet, and Chuck feels... Chuck feels as dumb as Dean.
"You." Chuck doesn't really want to look at Sam, but he can't even force himself to look away. "You like me?" Chuck feels like an idiot for having to ask. How did he miss it? What would have happened if he hadn't put his hands in his pockets, that night at the drive-in?
Oh for fuck's sake.
"Chuck," Sam reaches up to pull Chuck down against him, smirking softly against his skin, pressing light kisses along his jaw, at the corners of his mouth. "Not everyone is smart enough to --"
Oh no. Chuck's smart enough. He cuts Sam's words off with a kiss, hard and sure and anything but dumb.
Chuck's not stupid.
He's got it now.
"Oh, and Chuck?" Sam turns his face away slightly, grinning brightly as he speaks. "You're in my bed, by the way."
Chuck thinks for a moment, trying to decide what to do with this information.
"But, I'm pretty sure... you can stay in it." Sam laughs softly as he turns back to Chuck, letting him claim back his mouth. "If you want to, I mean. If you're smart enough to realize that I'm inviting you to --"
"Oh my God, shut up!" Chuck pushes at Sam's face, stilling it against the pillow as he bites down his neck.
Oh yeah.
Chuck's got it now.
-End-
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Sam/Chuck
Rating: PG
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Words: 2000
Summary: Chuck's amused by how dense Dean is. Castiel is in love with him, and he doesn't even realize it. How stupid could he be?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: Written as sort of companion piece for "He Loves You (and you know you should be glad)" by janie-tangerine, which is the original Dean/Cas side of this. Both can be read seperately, and this should not be taken as an add-on to her universe. General plot credit goes to her, except the part where it doesn't, because... well. Never mind. Make sense? ♥
The call comes early in the morning, or at least, it does for Chuck. For most people, for average people, the call clocks in around six in the evening. But, for Chuck... that is morning, and, well, Chuck isn't exactly what you'd call average. He has odd sleeping patterns, odd eating habits, odd personal traits, and a love life too odd to even talk about.
Oh right.
The phone's ringing.
It's less than an hour later, and Chuck is sitting in the Impala, in the back seat, next to Sam. Dean's not one to be hit with a good mood often, so, when it comes, well... no one complains. Chuck wouldn't even consider saying no, not to Sam. Not to the Winchesters, he means. Because they're really the only friends he's got. He doesn't mean to get all mushy about it, but he likes when they invite him out. Even if he kind of actually hates the going out part of it.
He kind of likes his couch.
"It's Hellraiser, dude!" Dean is arguing the legit awesomeness of the film, sitting comfortably beside Castiel. They wound up at a drive-in, somewhere Chuck hadn't been since he was a kid. And, honestly, watching some guy trying to convince a girl to help him regenerate or something... well, it probably would have been more entertaining when he was a kid. But he couldn't complain, nothing about this night was bad. Or, at least, it wasn't. Until Sam left.
"I've seen this movie like twenty-three times, Dean!" Sam sighs as he slumps down in the seat, knee pushing at Chuck's leg.
"Doesn't even matter, Sammy!" Dean is grinning, eyes glued to the screen in front of them. "Doesn't even matter."
Apparently, it does matter, because Sam is pushing his way out of the car, leaving Chuck alone in a seat that suddenly feels too big. But, he doesn't follow, because he's not there for Sam. He's there to spend time with Dean and Cas too, or so he thinks, until Dean is sending him a look that makes him rethink that thought.
It's not long until Chuck is walking through the rows of cars, wishing Sam's legs weren't so long and... fast. Luckily, said Winchester is taking his time, wandering aimlessly, and Chuck catches up.
"Hey," he says easily, glad he didn't have to run. He was already slightly breathless, and he'd really only been walking. Quickly, perhaps, but walking nonetheless.
"You've seen it thirty-seven times too?" Sam grins as he looks down at him. Chuck kind of hates Sam and his stupid long legs.
"Thought it was twenty-three?" Chuck finally falls into step beside him as they leave the rows of cars behind them.
"Oh, I don't know." Sam shakes his head, keeping his eyes on Chuck. It's kind of nervewracking. But, Chuck won't mention. "I mostly just wanted to get out of Dean's way."
"Why?" Chuck knows.
"You know why."
Yeah. He did.
"Do you think Dean's figured it out yet?" Chuck asks bravely, realizing that even though he and Sam had been rolling their eyes at the situation for months, neither of them had ever really come out and said anything about it.
"I don't think... Dean pays attention like that." Sam slows even more, and Chuck is grateful for that. 'Casual wandering' for Sam is like a frantic attempt to keep up for Chuck. So this? This is nice.
"How can he... how would he possibly miss that?" Chuck smirks in disbelief as they turn down an old escape route. It's a dirt path more than anything, and Chuck's afraid that it may get too dark.
"Dean just isn't really very... smart." Sam laughs, and Chuck can't help it; he laughs too. It was true, at times, and that was amusing. Dean is a genius at some things, many things, but somehow... he still manages to completely miss the way Cas looks at him.
"He's gotta realize it though, right? I mean... maybe he just doesn't know how to acknowledge it, so he doesn't." Chuck shoves his hands in his pockets in an awkward attempt to still them. Somehow, they keep brushing against Sam's legs, bumping into his wrist, and Chuck's pretty sure he doesn't wanna get his ass kicked for accidentally hitting on a hunter in what is literally a dark alley.
"I don't think so, Chuck. You know," Sam stops quickly, suddenly, and it takes a second for Chuck to even realize. When he looks back at Sam, his face is amused in a way that's sort of sad, and Chuck really can't understand why. "Not everyone is smart enough to realize when someone's interested in them." Sam bites off his words with something sort of sharp as he turns to walk back the way they came.
Chuck doesn't even ask.
Chuck hangs out in Sam's motel room a lot. The room he shares. With Dean. Dean's a good guy, and Chuck generally likes him, but sometimes, he gives Sam these looks... like, the kind of looks that people used to throw around in high school, when they'd just been talking about Chuck, and were afraid of getting caught or something. Chuck is sort of on edge about this, really on edge about this, because why would they be talking about him? More importantly, what would they be saying?
But, Sam usually puts an end to the awkward glances as quick as they can start, and for that, Chuck thinks he loves him.
Until.... maybe he doesn't anymore. Because now they actually are talking, low and quiet in the corner of the room. Chuck tries not to notice as he shifts on the bed, Dean's bed. Is this Sam's bed? Chuck's not even sure. He'd camped out there a few hours ago, covering his lap with notebooks and papers. He hadn't really considered that he might be in the way. Was this Dean's bed? Well, it was someone's bed, and...
Dean was leaving.
Chuck watches with a heavy heart as Dean shuts the door behind himself, fiddling with the collar of his shirt as he walks past the window.
"Uh... I guess..." Sam's voice is soft and shaky from across the room, and Chuck doesn't even want to look at him as he quickly works to pile up his papers. "I guess you're staying with me tonight. Dean is going to spend the night with Castiel, is that okay?"
Chuck's hands still over the papers as he tries to imagine what a night with Sam would be like. If it were any other night, he'd be ecstatic. Chuck is... sort of fond of Sam. But it wasn't any other night, it was this night, and Chuck's fairly sure that Sam and Dean were just talking about him, and that Dean had left because...
Because everyone always leaves when Chuck hangs around for too long.
"Yeah. That's okay." Chuck really wants to know who's bed he's on. "Um, why though?"
Sam smiles softly, an expression that is happy and fond. "Because, Chuck, remember? Not everyone is smart enough to realize when someone's interested in them. Sometimes, you have to push it right in their face." Sam stretches as he says the words, bending his arms back behind his head, and Chuck hates that. Sam does that a lot. Sam's shirts are too short for... stretches like that. Yeah... Chuck... he hates it.
"I don't even understand them," Chuck admits. He's more comfortable now, now that Dean is gone and the room is less awkward, except Sam is doing that thing, that stupid thing he does, where he locks his arms back behind his head for a while, and his shirt, his stupid shirt, it just stays up on his skin, and Chuck --
"What do you not understand? It's like... it's the most basic schoolyard crush I've ever seen, dude." Sam sighs out the words, soft and low and quiet.
Chuck swallows hard.
He's not sure why.
"Why would Dean go over there... when he... doesn't even realize that Cas is in love with him?" Chuck's sort of not even sure what he's saying, because Sam is moving now, dropping down to sit on the edge of the free bed. Chuck feels guilty for having laid claim first. What if Sam wanted this one?
"He wanted to?" Sam shrugs as he pulls off his shirt.
Chuck swallows hard.
He's not sure why.
"Why?" Chuck's not even curious, not at all, really. It's a dumb question, and he's vaguely aware of this. But Sam somehow decides that all of his clothes need to come off, and his jeans are going rather quickly. So talking? Talking is good.
"I don't know, Chuck, because I told him to?" Sam says the words incredulously, as if it should have been obvious. And Chuck just nods, until... wait. What?
"What?" Chuck shifts to the far edge of the bed, without consciously deciding to do so. Sam is sitting beside him now. On Chuck's bed. On Dean's bed. On Sam's bed? And why? Why is Sam sitting beside him?
"You really are..." Sam moves in closer, pressing his leg against Chuck's, "absolutely..." Chuck feels his heartbeat quicken as Sam leans in further, pushing papers and pens to the floor, "ridiculous."
The word is like a punch, or a kick, or... a kiss.
A kiss?
Sam closes the distance easily, and Chuck doesn't back away. His lips are soft and sweet, and... if Chuck is completely honest with himself, maybe for the first time ever, then he'd realize that... he's been thinking about this moment for far too long. Sam presses lightly, a barely-there contact against Chuck's lips, and Chuck wonders why he does it. Maybe he's not sure if he wants it? Maybe... maybe he's not sure if Chuck wants it.
Chuck closes his eyes as he presses back, moving for the first time since Sam settled in next to him. On the bed. In nothing but a pair of blue boxers.
Chuck doesn't remember deciding to be a complete spaz after that. In fact, he's pretty sure if he'd thought about it, he would have slapped himself in the face, at least. But he's on top of Sam now, pushing and pulling at him until he's laying flat on the bed, warm and hard under Chuck's body. Sam's hands are on Chuck's back, pushing at his shirt, and... huh. Sam really likes people to be naked, it seems.
Chuck presses his hand to the side of Sam's face, feeling his skin flush and throb under his fingertips. It's a wonderful feeling, because it's all for him. Sam Winchester is blushing for him.
And it isn't until then, that it really hits Chuck.
"What's wrong?" Sam looks worried for a moment as Chuck pulls away, bracing his hands on either side of Sam's face. Sam is breathing hard, eyes dark, lips wet, and Chuck feels... Chuck feels as dumb as Dean.
"You." Chuck doesn't really want to look at Sam, but he can't even force himself to look away. "You like me?" Chuck feels like an idiot for having to ask. How did he miss it? What would have happened if he hadn't put his hands in his pockets, that night at the drive-in?
Oh for fuck's sake.
"Chuck," Sam reaches up to pull Chuck down against him, smirking softly against his skin, pressing light kisses along his jaw, at the corners of his mouth. "Not everyone is smart enough to --"
Oh no. Chuck's smart enough. He cuts Sam's words off with a kiss, hard and sure and anything but dumb.
Chuck's not stupid.
He's got it now.
"Oh, and Chuck?" Sam turns his face away slightly, grinning brightly as he speaks. "You're in my bed, by the way."
Chuck thinks for a moment, trying to decide what to do with this information.
"But, I'm pretty sure... you can stay in it." Sam laughs softly as he turns back to Chuck, letting him claim back his mouth. "If you want to, I mean. If you're smart enough to realize that I'm inviting you to --"
"Oh my God, shut up!" Chuck pushes at Sam's face, stilling it against the pillow as he bites down his neck.
Oh yeah.
Chuck's got it now.
-End-