The Joy is in The Process

Fishing at the Lake

Every moment they aren't unpacking or cleaning or trying to get the squirrel nest out from under the eaves of the roof, they're with Cas. He doesn't even seem to mind they've shortened his ancient and powerful angel name.

Sam gets to go with them on bike trips or fishing or walks into town, which he loves. Both Dean and Cas treat him as an equal, as long as he doesn't give Dean any trouble — they made a deal about that.

Sam also spends Friday nights with Cas, who walks him home after The X-Files is over. They've already banished Dean from watching with them. The one and only time he comes over is because Sam feels sorry for him. But Dean never sits still and peppers them with thousands of questions, and he can't remember what's going on even though they explain everything twice. He's hopeless.

There's also a lot of time Dean and Cas spend together by themselves. Sam is never invited so he doesn't know what they do, but they're gone for hours on end. And if Dean isn't with Sam or at home doing chores, he's with Cas.

Sam has never seen him this happy, which for Sam is a bad thing because his brother's good mood spills over into salt in the sugar bowl and plastic wrap on the toilet seat. A cheerful Dean means a Dean who likes to pull pranks, so Sam looks down every couple of minutes to be sure his shoelaces aren't tied together. Dean is annoying when he's like this.

For all the time they spend together, it takes Dean a while to get used to the more unique aspects of Cas's character.

"Cas, you're starin' at me again," Dean says one afternoon while they're all at the lake.

"I'm not staring."

"Then what are you doin'?"

"Observing."

"Observin' what?"

"You, Dean."

"But that's exactly the same — "

Dean sighs, and Sam giggles, knowing that it drives Dean nuts every time he looks over and sees Cas with his lips pursed, pointedly watching. Sam knows he does it a lot even when Dean isn't looking — Cas always seems to be paying attention to the little things neither of them notice.

"I believe if you were watching your bobber and not watching me watching you, you'd realize you've lost your worm."

"I...what?"

Dean reels in his line and Sam bursts into hysterics when it's clear the bait at the end of his hook is gone.

"Why the heck didn't you say somethin'?" Dean asks Cas.

"You were distracted."

"By those giant blue eyes starin' at me!" Dean cries, throwing his hands up. "Stop laughin' at me, Sammy!"

But the tears are streaming down his face and he drops his pole because he's laughing so hard his stomach hurts.

Dean has yet to appreciate the long, quiet afternoons the three of them spend together, fishing poles in hand, lying side by side on the sandy banks of the lake. The awful heat of late July has already given in to the subtler temperatures of mid-August, and if it were up to Sam, he'd spend every moment possible out here with his brother and Cas, even if he does gets stuck carrying all the gear. Dean is into instant gratification, so the waiting and hoping for fish to tug at the end of his line is a study in frustration for him.

Sam holds his fishing pole but isn't really interested in catching anything. He's happy to sit and watch the lake, or listen to Dean and Cas talk. They do that often, although much of the time Dean has to coax Cas to keep up his end of the conversation. It's like Cas always knows what he wants to say, and doesn't bother wasting the extra words getting there. Sam knows Dean has come to accept it as part of Cas's personality. He has a hell of a time trying to have conversations about baseball, though.