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Bobby's not an idiot.
He's plenty of other things—stubborn, surly and occasionally belligerent—but stupid is one thing he's never been. You don't survive long in this business without a good helping of smarts, and this late in the game Bobby thinks he can safely say he's got more than his fair share.
But at any rate, he's not an idiot. He knows something is different about Sam and Dean Winchester the second they walk through his door.
He doesn't think too much of it at the time. This is the first he's seen them since Sam's disjointed, panicked phone call of four months past—the first they've shown up on his doorstep since the curse hit. Bobby's been looking for a cure ever since he learned what happened, of course. He just didn't want to call them in until he had something a little closer to a sure answer.
Now he's got one, or something like it, and instead of looking nervous and hopeful and relieved, the Winchesters are sitting in front of him looking less than pleased with the news. They seem to think they're putting on a good front, and Bobby can't decide whether to be amused or horrified at the awful poker faces before him. Dean looks like he's been kicked in the gut, Sam looks like he's sucking on a lemon, and Bobby's just trying not to roll his eyes.
He fills them in anyway. He maybe can't blame them for not wanting to undo the curse—after so much time fronting for each other, wearing strong masks and half truths like some kind of twisted family tradition, it must be nice to see things so clearly. Those boys obviously mean the world to each other—probably too much, if Bobby's going to step back and be impartial, though he's never been one to overanalyze the knots family tends to tie itself into—and he can only imagine what a glimpse at that kind of devotion must be like.
But Bobby has done his research, and he thinks he knows what they're dealing with now. This particular bond is a curse—an unstable and volatile link. According to Bobby's resources, the damn thing could unravel both boys from inside if left to its own unpredictable course.
There are ways to settle the bond—to "consummate" it, all the texts say—but they all seem to be variations on a theme. Sex and ritual, ritual and sex… not exactly an option for the brothers Winchester.
Even if they do currently seem as though they'd just as soon keep the curse between them.
"What if we were to consummate it?" Sam asks, and Bobby doesn't miss the sharp look Dean throws his brother.
Dean's always been brighter than Sam when it comes to some things. It's no surprise that this is one of those times he's putting things together ahead of the class.
"Trust me when I say that ain't an option," says Bobby. Because even if settling and keeping the bond were a good idea—a point Bobby is in no way willing to concede—no way in hell is he bringing up incest as a possible solution. Sam and Dean might just disown him.
Or worse, from the looks they're exchanging now, the fools might actually consider it a valid option.
Bobby conducts his complicated ritual over the course of the next few days. It's slow going, lots of delicate rune work and incantations and more human blood than he's particularly comfortable playing with. The boys follow along every step of the way, but somehow it always seems like they're humoring him.
He's disappointed when the ritual doesn't work.
He wouldn't go so far as to say he's surprised.
"You chuckleheads call me," he insists vehemently, his arms crossed determinedly in front of his chest. "If anything changes, or if you start to feel weirder than usual, or if something goes wrong."
"We will," says Dean.
"We promise," says Sam. There's enough genuine brightness in both their eyes that Bobby believes them.
He has relative quiet for awhile after that, then joins them on a hunt two months later—unrelated, a haunting in an abandoned paper mill—and that's when he gives up on looking for a 'solution' to something that's apparently no problem at all.
He probably should have known all along.
The night they put the spirit to rest, he means to retire early. There's no reason to stay any longer than the second celebratory round, especially when Sam and Dean keep shooting each other proprietary glances that are clearly meant to fly under Bobby's radar.
Whatever's up, it's probably family business—and family might not end in blood, but that doesn't give Bobby the right to pry. He excuses himself graciously and noisily, and makes his way out of the bar.
It's not until he's halfway across the parking lot that he realizes he's not wearing his hat. He belatedly remembers taking it off and setting it aside when Dean insisted on making sure Bobby really wasn't bleeding from the knock he took to the head. The damn thing is probably sitting on the table, off to the side and barely noticeable. Not likely to be reclaimed by either Winchester if Bobby himself didn't realize he was leaving it.
He mumbles an irritated curse under his breath and heads back inside.
What he sees isn't much. It's certainly not enough to broadcast a scandal to the rest of the bar. There's nothing visibly untoward going on at the table.
But Sam has gravitated closer to Dean in the two minutes since Bobby's departure. Both boys are staring at each other, expressions so focused and intense that Bobby wants to blink for them. They're smiling, an exchange of looks like Bobby has never seen on their faces before—looks he can't hope to quantify now, not when so many levels of communication are flying over his head. Sam's right hand has disappeared beneath the table, and Dean is quirking an expressive eyebrow.
Sam laughs, a low chuckle that carries across the bar to Bobby and makes him realize there's an actual conversation going on here. That part's no surprise—he's been left out of the loop plenty of times in the last couple days. He's watched in quiet vexation as the Winchester boys fell into their own headspace and spent half an hour nodding, squinting, quirking eyebrows at each other and forgetting to share with the class.
But it's never been like this.
'What if we were to consummate it?' Bobby suddenly remembers Sam asking. He suddenly gets that the question was anything but hypothetical. Christ, leave it to the Winchesters to find a way to get even more stuck together than they already were.
"Fuck the hat," Bobby mutters to himself, turning right back the way he came. His feet can't carry him out the door nearly fast enough. The last thing he needs is for either one of them to catch sight of him and realize their secret is out.
There are some things Bobby would rather pretend not to know.