In my honest opinion, the biggest Destiel shipper in the world is none other than Sam Winchester.

Particularly in the recent seasons, I'm pretty sure he's just waiting for it to happen now, if only to rid the room of all the UST whenever Dean and Cas are together.

Anyway, enjoy.

In the middle of the night, Sam woke with a start. He jerked upright in his chair, casting panicked eyes around his room, flitting from object to object within view with such an intense scrutiny he hadn't felt in years. Upon realising that he'd fallen asleep in the chair at his desk once again, he huffed a laugh to himself, settling a hand over his chest in a vague attempt to quell his too-quick thudding heart in the wake of his nightmare. He was in his room, in the bunker, Dean was down the hall. Everything was fine.

Besides, it was just a stupid bullshit dream.

Already, he couldn't quite remember what in the nightmare had him so panicked in the first place, or even what it was about. Something to do with demons? Leviathan maybe? Sam shrugged to himself with a quick sigh. Didn't matter, it was just a dream. All over now.

Sam glanced at his watch, cursing at the hour being so late. No wonder he'd fallen asleep researching again. He'd been sitting here scribbling down notes and conked out after about six hours. By his estimate, he'd been asleep for roughly three. His butt muscles ached as he shifted in his chair, after having slept over his desk.

Leaning back with a long stretch of his arms, he looked down at his research. With lorebooks scattered around him, scraps of paper with various little notes and sigils scrawled on them and his laptop's dim glow surrounding him, Sam decided it was definitely time for a break from research for a while. Possibly a proper sleep in a bed as well. So he pushed himself to his feet, stretching his back and legs with the movement, before reaching down to unlace his boots with quick, practiced tugs. The freedom his feet felt when they were liberated from the leather was heavenly.

Sam licked his lips, finding the corner his mouth sticky and partly crusty, reaching up a couple fingers to investigate the reason, before casting his gaze to the desk and finding a small puddle of drool on his research papers. Damn, he thought, that's gross. He swiped his wrist over his mouth to at least mop up any possible remainder of spit on his chin and lips, before going to his dresser and changing out of his jeans and flannel into more sleep-appropriate clothing.

Clearing his parched throat, Sam decided he needed a glass of water before he retired for the rest of the night, so he quietly opened his door and padded down the hall towards the kitchen - socks making little to no noise with each footstep on the polished stone floor. He brought up his hand in a pre-emptive attempt to stifle a yawn, before noises through the doorway towards the kitchen met his ears, and immediately the yawn was forgotten.

Despite his height and muscled physique often described as 'hulking', Sam could easily be one of the stealthiest people one could know. He snuck his way over to the door, hiding in the shadows of the archway. The noises paused briefly. It had sounded like shifting material and small clicking noises. It was probably just Dean getting a midnight snack, or Cas cleaning up something or other that the boys had left laying around. The angel didn't sleep, ever, and it seemed like a plausible thing for him to do. Sam didn't really think about what Castiel did while everyone slept. Maybe he read up on lore, went for walks or wrote down his thoughts. Maybe he sat staring at a wall to while the hours away. The young Winchester pondered over it for a second before the noises started again and Sam's curiosity was piqued. So he peeped in.

And his heart almost jumped out of his chest.

Because there was Dean standing just inches away from Cas in the middle of the kitchen, the angel's slender hands splayed against Dean's upper torso, fingers digging into the dark blue flannel the hunter wore. One of Dean's hands was pressed into the small of Cas' back over the tan coat, the other clasped tenderly against the angel's neck and lower jaw, tilting his head upwards to accommodate the height difference - Jimmy Novak had always been a couple inches shorter than Dean, and his build quite slim under the layers of suit and trenchcoat when compared to Dean's hunter muscle. They stood with their foreheads pressed together, completely oblivious to their silent watcher, whispering to one another words that Sam couldn't make out.

Something Dean must have said amused the angel, as Cas' mouth stretched into a small smile, one so soft that Sam had never seen it before. Castiel never really smiled, he had always been so unflappable, driven and militaristic in a sense - what with being an Angel of the Lord and having been trained as a soldier for countless millennia - a smile seemed so out of character for him. It was a broken little thing, as if Castiel knew what a smile was, but didn't really know how to do it. A pull of pink lips surrounded by dark stubble and hooded blue eyes is what it was, but to Sam, it was as though he was seeing a gift pass from one person to another.

And here he was, sharing that gift with Sam's brother. But Sam wasn't at all jealous about it.

Dean's expression echoed the angel's, a small soft smile, albeit one that was more natural for him, but no less rare than the one a hair's breadth from his own. His dark green eyes were squinted slightly as they fixed on Cas, a kind of happy squint Sam had only seen a few times on his brother's features. His thumb grazed Cas' cheekbone in a caress as his other hand pressed the angel closer into his embrace, until they were flush against one another. Sam could see Dean's eyes flicking over Cas' face, even from this angle.

Dean said something else in that low whisper that was unintelligible to Sam, causing the angel to exhale shakily and jerk his head in a miniscule nod. Dean's head leaned back with a troubled furrow of his brow as he pressed his lips together into a taut line. Those endless blues tracked the shift of expression, almost looking sad for a moment, tilting his head down to fix his gaze into the threads of Dean's shirt, before his mouth began moving again.

"...I'm sorry." He saw the angel's lips form the words, despite not being able to hear it, watching as the hand on Cas' neck slithered around his back and drew him in for an embrace. Cas' own hands travelled to Dean's shoulders as he was pulled closer, tucking his forehead into the hollow of Dean's neck. Dean pressed his own face into Cas' soot black hair, closing his eyes tightly.

"...'s okay, Cas," He'd actually heard this time, the words not quite a whisper, but still as gentle. They rocked together briefly in the quiet of the night, simply enjoying their proximity with one another. It was more intimate than anything either of them had ever experienced, and Sam could tell.

The younger Winchester almost felt giddy as he watched from his hiding place.

Years.

It had taken years for them to even get this far. And Sam had been waiting. Everyone had. Of all the jokes and prods he and many others had sent their way, it was almost exciting to see them so close after so long. The man and the angel, two very different species, one very real bond. In the beginning it was like they were star-crossed - something always coming between them; the apocalypse, the Leviathans, the Fall, other angels, Dean himself and so much more. They'd danced around one another for years, pretending everything was fine and platonic and unchangeable. But Sam knew all along that this moment was coming. He knew it. He just hadn't expected to randomly stumble across it in the kitchen in the middle of the night.

He watched as they leaned back from their embrace, observing as Cas painted that shy and unrecognizable smile across his features once more, blue eyes fixed downward. The hand on Cas' back trailed up and down in light strokes, soothing and gentle. Those calloused hands that had known only violence his whole messed up life; able to strip a gun in mere seconds, curl around the hilt of a blade and take the life of nearly any creature, paint sigils in his own blood, punch and hurt so many things; those hands were being used for the complete opposite for once.

The hand that had been stroking the angel's back slowly shifted around to his front, tilting Cas' head back by the chin so they could see eye-to-eye. They watched each other silently with such adoration, for anyone else it would be sickening. Until Dean said something else under his breath and he leaned in towards Castiel, lips meeting the angel's softly. The angel stiffened slightly, before melting into the embrace.

Sam's breath caught in his throat, and he had to press his palm over his mouth to stop himself from crying out in victory.

They were kissing.

Sam turned away from the scene so he could silently punch his fists up in the air, ecstatic.

Finally! They'd finally taken that step forward! This was so exciting!

He peeked back in, noticing that Dean's hand on Cas' chin had shifted to the back of the angel's neck, burying his fingers into the dark hair, both their arms tightening as though there was no room for anything else between them. The sounds of them echoed around the silent kitchen, small breaths and gasps, their footsteps as Dean pushed Castiel back to lean against the kitchen island, the fabric of their clothes sliding together as they shifted against one another. Sam thought to himself that he really shouldn't be watching this - it was such an invasion of his brother and Cas' privacy - but couldn't bring himself to care, having been waiting for so long for the tension between them to finally come to a head.

Sam swallowed, the scrape of his parched throat reminding him of his reason for being out here so late. He really didn't want to interrupt them, but his building thirst was winning out as he swiped his sticky tongue over his dry lips. He thought to himself ways that would give them some warning he was coming, and decided upon his course of action. He took one last indulgent look at the two languidly making out in the kitchen, before he padded back to his bedroom. He opened the door and shut it again, just loudly enough that it would echo down the hallway, before retracing his steps with a large, put-upon yawn that was bound to be heard.

When he came back to the kitchen, he played oblivious to the fact that they had put several feet of distance between one another. Dean was digging something out of the fridge, while Cas stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island from Dean and the door Sam had entered through. Dean turned as Sam entered, pulling out the fixings for a sandwich, spreading them onto the island. He was trying to be so nonchalant, Sam almost laughed, while the angel was reading the side of a bottle of ketchup, trying very hard to hide the tremble in his hands.

"Hey, guys." Sam said as he brushed past Dean to get to the sink, snagging a clean glass on the way. Castiel put the ketchup down and nodded back to Sam politely.

"Hello, Sam." His rough voice was calm and even, but his hands were clasped together loosely on the counter, successfully ceasing the shake in his fingers this way. Sam wouldn't have noticed if it had been anyone else. He turned to his brother next, who was setting together his sandwich, tugging out two slices of bread and laying them on a plate.

"Evenin'," Dean grunted, while he tugged open one of the containers. His movements were stiff, his annoyance at the interruption clear in his posture. He shot an almost-glare at Sam, who purposefully ignored it. He filled his glass and took a large sip, turning back to his brother and friend, feeling the tension rising in the room. The silence dragged, Sam noticed, and neither Dean nor Castiel could meet his eyes. Aww, they're embarrassed, he thought, that is so adorable.

"Everything okay with you guys?" Sam broke the quiet with his question, playing nonchalant himself, flicking his eyes between them with a put-upon furrow on his brow. Castiel turned to Sam with a bird-like tilt of his head, but said nothing, while Dean's eyes shot up from his food preparation to Cas, then to Sam.

"Yeah, why?" The elder Winchester replied, too quickly. Sam shrugged, looking between them once more and taking another gulp of water.

"I dunno. You guys just seem... tense. Just wanted to know if everything was good between you." He said, biting his cheek at Dean's fleeting expression. Deer-in-headlights barely described it, before it shut back down into his normal irritated self. He'd finished building his food and took a large bite out of it as a distraction. It was Cas who shifted uncomfortably against the counter, glancing away momentarily.

"I, uh, I'll go to the library and keep researching," he said quietly, taking a few steps towards the other room, before pausing for a second and turning back to the taller man. "And no, Sam. Everything is fine between us. No need to worry." And he walked away with a billow of his coat, leaving the brothers alone in the kitchen. Sam's eyes slid to his brother, watching as Dean sighed with his gaze locked on the retreating figure. He took another bite of his sandwich, huffing out what was supposed to be an amused laugh, but came out sort of like a strained cough.

"Poor guy. You scared him off, Sammy." Dean joked around a mouthful of food, clearly trying to mask his disappointment. Sam sent a withering look to Dean, before he got an evil idea. He finished off his glass and placed it in the sink, striding up next to Dean with a shit-eating smirk on his face, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leaning into his ear.

"Well then maybe you should go after him and make him feel better, lover boy. Give him a kiss and a cuddle for me." Sam felt every muscle in Dean's back seize in that second, the bite of his sandwich paused mid-chew, saw his eyes bug out and a red flush creep up his neck. He could almost see the cogs turning in his brother's head, the obligatory 'oh shit!' face for having been found out. The taller Winchester chuckled lowly as he watched his brother's reaction. He patted Dean's back once more and began to walk back towards the hallway to his room.

"It's about damn time, dumbass," he threw back over his shoulder, and the sound of Dean's surprised choking on his sandwich was music to his ears.

For once, he was so glad he had been woken by a nightmare.

And when he sank into the heavenly comfort of his bed a few minutes later, he couldn't have been happier for his idiot brother for finally, finally getting his shit together when it came to Castiel. They'd both moved past their emotional constipation regarding one another and it was such a good feeling. They were so adorable together. Sam had hoped for this for years, and now it was finally happening. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he dragged his blanket around himself.

Goddamnit, he was so freaking happy for the both of them. At last!

Despite his giddiness, Sam fell asleep quickly and comfortably.

I thought I'd try my hand at some cutesy shit. Been stewing on this for a couple of days, actually, and really wanted to get it out of my head. Quite happy with it tbh.