Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ticking. A clock on a white wall. 3:15.

This is the first thing Dean sees when he opens his eyes. He can't tell if it is morning or evening. The neon light is too bright to keep his eyes open anyway.

Then there is the smell. Sharp. Disinfectant. He has smelled it before.

A vague memory of sitting in the Impala, his baby warm and comforting, despite him being too drunk to drive. His head spinning and the cars coming at him doubling and tripling before they focus into one shape again. It’s a dumbass idea to drive while being this drunk.

When the voice is telling him that now, he can see it’s right. Back in the Impala, it was easy to ignore. His baby takes care of him, after all. The only one who does. Only she didn’t. There was a flash and a bang. A big bang when he hit something. A tree? A car? He can't recall.

“It was touch-and-go for a bit there, but he's pulling through. He lost a lot of blood, though. It’ll be a while before he wakes up.”

A voice from far away but it still draws him back. Ticking and whirring. The smell of disinfectant. A hospital, that's where he is. The thought alone is exhausting.

He tries to open his eyes again, but it is still too bright and then there are blotches of black and red encroaching on his vision. He tries to fight it, he wants to figure out who's there, because there is a voice so someone has to be there, but the exhaustion wins.
It wraps itself around him and leaves him no choice but to give in.

***

The damn clock. Why is it that this damn clock is the only thing he sees? It’s 8:23 and he can't tell if that means that he has slept for a few hours or a few days. Time is relative, he thinks and can’t really bring himself to care.

The insistent beeping of a machine is drowning out the ticking of the clock. It has to be intensive care then. Slowly he moves his head, to see if he can and to see if he's right. Yep, head moves. Vision follows, too, albeit a moment too late. A white room, bright white. That's why he hates hospitals, no colors here. No colors at all.

He stomps down the little spark of disappointment that the room is empty. Whoever was talking before is now gone. Who would even want to visit him? Dean can't think of anyone.
Well, Sam would, but he is in Stanford. Far away, doing what he should be doing, becoming what Dean never could at a safe distance from Dean. To make sure that he won’t get tangled up in stuff like this.

So, he summarizes. He’s alone, in a hospital bed, and there’s a beeping machine. What has happened again? An accident. Right. He was driving while he was wasted.

‘Winchester, you aren’t getting any smarter with age, you know this was going to fuck you up even while you were doing it,’ he sighs to himself.

The exhaustion is pulling at him, making every bone heavy as lead even while he doesn’t feel the pain. Painkillers. Probably shouldn’t have those. Not with the amounts of alcohol he’d thrown down. But then, who cares, really? Well, the other driver cared, he guesses. If there was another driver.

Suddenly, his anxiety spikes. There is not much that he actually remembers. Did someone else get hurt? Did he hit someone? Did he kill someone?
He feels the blood drain from his face and for a moment the black spots in his vision threaten to overwhelm him again. But this time, he’s better able to fight back.

He does what he has learned a long time ago. What he has re-learned in one of the programs that his brother made him go to.
He prays.
He prays that he hit something that isn’t alive. Something that can't feel, can't bleed.
He prays that he didn’t add murder to the list of his sins. That he didn’t take someone’s father or mother or kid and doesn’t even remember it.

Prayers.
So stupid. So stupid to pray when he can't change anything. And still he clings to the prayer as his last lifeline. Not only here and now. Always.
He prays for little things. For big things. For everything.
Stubborn as he is, once it got ingrained, he couldn’t change the habit anymore.
Maybe because it reminds him so much of his mother.

All of a sudden he is 4 years old and sitting at the kitchen table. It smells of cinnamon and apples. They’ve baked a pie together and now it’s standing on the table in front of them and smelling delicious. Her hand is cupping his and there is a smile on her face. The kind of smile she only smiles when his father is not at home. So he knows all is good. It is just them and the pie.
They are praying together before they eat. Another thing she only does, when his father isn’t around to mock her for it.
“Thank you, God, for all the good that you bring us. Thank you for taking care of our family.”
His mother’s voice is soft and comforting. He feels safe and home.

The image fades even though he desperately clings to it. It's a good memory, one he instantly feels guilty about having. He doesn’t deserve good memories. But it’s one of the very few he has of his mother that are this clear. Apart from the other one, that is. The one that changed everything.

He remembers the acidic smoke burning his lungs. The fire flaring through the stairwell. He remembers his father yelling at him, “Take your brother and run!”
He remembers the heavy weight of Baby-Sam in his arms. He can picture the house burning down while desperately rocking Sam to get him to stop crying as clearly as if it was a blockbuster movie. Can see his father stumbling out of the house with the most desperate look Dean has ever seen.
He didn’t realize it right then, of course. What it meant. That came later.

He still thought things might turn out okay when they moved in with Uncle Bobby for a few weeks. It was Bobby, who had to explain it to him. That his Mom wasn’t going to come back. Ever. That they’d have a funeral and that he should say goodbye to her then. Only he didn’t know how. She wasn’t there. He could only say goodbye to someone who was there.

“Just pray, she’ll hear it,” was what the pastor finally said to him. So he did. But he never got an answer. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. Maybe the pastor was wrong.

And then his dad became more and more obsessed with the idea that the fire wasn’t an accident. That it was arson. That he had to find and punish the one who did it. He remembers that argument, too, even though he was supposed to be in bed sleeping. His Dad and Bobby shouting at the tops of their lungs. He just crept into Sammy’s room and rocked his crib slowly so that he wouldn’t start crying.

They moved soon after. And then again. And again. Until the apartments turned into motel rooms, never staying long enough to call any place home.
He remembers the drinking, too. His father hadn’t been a nice guy even when his mother was alive. And then, after the drinking started…

Dean pushes the thoughts away but the sour smell of his father’s breath invades his mind. He concentrates on the disinfectant to force the memories away, but that only serves to remind him of the time he had to call an ambulance because his father wasn’t moving anymore. The bills for that hospital stay had been expensive, though, so he had caught hell for that from his Dad later.

God, he wants to drown the memories. Isn’t there a painkiller that kills this? Because drinking is not enough. He has tried. God, he has tried.

Disgusted with himself, he closes his eyes again. He’s no better than his old man. Doesn’t deserve to be treated any better, either.
With that thought, he drifts off into unconsciousness again.

***

When he wakes this time, there is no clock. Well, there is a clock, as he notices when he turns his head to look for it. But it’s in the wrong place. The walls have a different color, too. A soothing shade of light yellow. Pleasant, not as clinically stark as the white in the other room. A small nightstand, a TV. An unoccupied second bed. A small ordinary hospital room.

He’s out of the ICU. So it can’t have been that bad. That’s right, isn’t it? The soothing yellow provides no answers.

He eyes the buttons on the remote that is attached to the bed. He could hit the call button. Then a nurse would come and she can probably tell him all about what happened. Not only about what shape he is in. But also if he hit – yeah, his mind blocks that thought.

A part of him really wants to know what happened and another doesn't want to hear it at all.
Because once he knows, he’ll have to add it to his list of ‘things I fucked up beyond repair’.
Of course he can’t avoid it forever. Sooner or later, he’ll have to face the truth. But honestly, he’s okay with learning it a little later. Especially if he hit someone – but no, better not go there.

A knock on the door relieves him of any further contemplations of whether or not he should call someone in. He perks up best as he can and focuses on the entrance. “Come in,” he hoarsely chokes out the two words.

It’s not a nurse, but a doctor who makes his way in. Tall, though not in the Moose-range. Dark hair, mussed into a daylight version of a bed-head. Professionally friendly smile, even though there is a hard edge around his mouth. Whether it is because Dean is a DUI-case or because it’s a natural kind of authority, he doesn’t know. He can’t really focus on it, either, because now he’s noticed the eyes. Blue like the deep sea, as if they can look right through him, look straight into his soul and see all of his sins. He shudders.

“Well, good morning, Mr. Winchester.”

He can’t look away from the eyes even as the voice rips through him. It’s much much darker than he expected. Dark and rough. The kind of voice you’d like to hear greeting you a lot less formally. The kind of voice you’d like to hear whispering things to you in the middle of the night. The kind of voice you’d like to lazily tell you ‘I love you’ when you wake up in the mornings.
Fuck. Where did that come from?

Using all his willpower, Dean rips his eyes away. Daydreams of this sort will only land him in more trouble than he already is in. Better stomp this down immediately. It’s not that he isn’t used to doing that with any feelings that he ever has.
When he finally thinks that he has a grip on the situation again, he gives the doctor his best smile, while pointedly avoiding his gaze.
“Good morning, Doctor....” He glances at the nametag, “... Novak.”

He can’t help it and his eyes flit up to the doctor’s face for a second. A small smile graces the hard edge of Doctor Novak’s mouth, or so Dean believes at least. Suddenly he thinks he would do a lot to see that smile more often.

“Thank you.” The answer is curt and when Dean finds it in him to look up again, the smile is replaced with the unhappy edge round the mouth again.

Oh yeah. Dean knows that look. It is a look that Sammy gives him, too. Is the look that says ‘I’m calm and friendly because I’m helping you, but you are an asshole and a fucktard and a drunk on top of that.’

Of course, Sammy wouldn’t use those words. Sammy would say ‘disappointed’. Same thing. Waves of guilt wash over him.

Now the doctor flips through the pages on the clipboard. His frown is getting deeper, even though he appears to just be skimming the pages. Finally, he closes the clipboard with a sigh. “Mr. Winchester, I'm glad you’re back with us but I’m not going to beat around the bush. This is pretty serious.”

The guilt intensifies. Still, he nods. “Don’t sugar-coat it. I need to hear it.”

The Doctor glances down at the chart in his hand and flips a page before meeting his eyes again and giving him a short nod. “You had a car accident, do you remember that?”

Dean nods in reply.

“Good. OK. You were brought into the emergency room at 3:45 am three days ago.”

Dean feels a cold chill… 3 days…

The doctor watches him carefully for a second and continues, apparently coming to the conclusion that Dean is able to hear more. “You received some pretty serious injuries as a result of the accident. You broke your collarbone and a rib, which punctured your spleen. Luckily, the damage was not severe enough to warrant removal but the bleeding was quite severe. You were extremely fortunate that we got to you in time.”

He meets Dean’s eyes again, conveying just how much weight that carried before continuing.

“Here’s the fun part. Your blood alcohol level was 0.28. Mr. Winchester,” his voice getting sterner.
Dean knows this tone well. This is the lecture he had coming to him. He swallows and turns his eyes away, guilt overcoming everything else.
“Mr. Winchester, I won’t comment any further on any personal problems that you may be having, but it’s a miracle you survived with only the injuries that you sustained.”

Dean nods slowly and catches himself staring at the doctor again.

“Do you have any further questions?”

His head is not right today, because the first question that comes to mind is ‘are you single?’ He cringes at the thought of accidentally saying these words out loud. Why in the hell is he even thinking this?
This guy is a doctor. Not in the best of circumstances would he go out with a washed up drunk like Dean Winchester. And these are far from the best circumstances. In fact, these are possibly the worst circumstances. A DUI case. No family, no visitors.

Dean looks down at his hands. The tremor is slight but he’s sure that the doctor has noticed it. It is his job, after all. God, Dean would kill for a drink to make this go away. Yeah. Great idea… He has no right to judge the doctor for seeing a waste of space and resources in him.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you,” he ploughs on before his thoughts can drown him, “it’s just that, I... don't remember well... about what exactly happened....”

“I’d be surprised if you remembered anything at all,” the doctor says in a carefully measured voice.
Dean doesn’t look up, he doesn’t want to see the look of disappointment again. But still, he decides that it's better to hear this here and now from professionally friendly and also sexy Dr. Novak, who at least does his best not to show his disgust of Dean than from anybody else later.

“If you could… if you could just tell me whether I hit someone?” It sounds desperate and urgent and Dean closes his eyes for a moment, as if that might help to avoid the inevitable.

There is a pause, a hesitation, and Dr. Novak’s voice is a tad less professionally cool and a tad more compassionate when he answers, “I’m very sorry, Mr. Winchester. I wasn’t on duty when you came in. I don’t have the details. You’ll have to wait for the police officers. They will want to talk to you sometime in the next few days.”

Dean clutches his fingers hard. He’s dreaming the warmth in the voice because he wants to hear it. Because he would listen to this guy read the dictionary to him. Because he is desperate to hear actual warmth in a voice directed at him.

Dean wishes he could stop the thoughts running through his head.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, anything to make you more comfortable?” Dr. Novak asks and Dean manages to get himself together long enough to smile.

Of course he makes the mistake to look directly into those blue eyes, then. He wants to believe it so desperately, that the eyes have changed, just a little bit, a deeper shade of blue, a worry about his well-being, genuine care about him. Even admitting it, how bad he wants someone to share his worries, his dreams, his life, makes him crave alcohol and he bites his lips before he can admit that.

Suddenly he doesn't think he can stand being alone in this room. He thinks he is either going to jump out of the window or find the next bar in his hospital gown. Take your pick what’s worse there. So he thinks hard and fast, but the only question he can think of is, “How long do I have to stay here?” That won’t get him more than a few seconds, but a few seconds are better than nothing.

This time, the doctor truly smiles and while it’s still a quiet thing it's such a radiant smile that Dean can't help but smile, too, which is weird, because he doesn’t smile. Not anymore.

“Of course... I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to tell you. The injury to your spleen is going to require a stay for another 10 days, maybe more. It depends on how fast you can rehab.”

Rehab, huh? Dean doesn’t like that word much. Quick, ask something else to get away from that word. “So I figure we will see each other quite often?”

Dean wants to kick himself immediately. But to his surprise, a little chuckle fills the room and there is no offense in the other man’s voice, “Yes, Mr. Winchester, I figure that, too.”

And right in this moment Dean knows that he is doomed if he lets this feeling grow. He has to stop it, right now, he has to get as far away from Dr. Novak as he can.

But instead he blurts out, “Call me Dean. I hate this formal stuff.”
Well done, Winchester. That's a good way to get rid of him.

Dr. Novak frowns and stares at Dean for a long time. Dean fidgets uncomfortably under his gaze. Eyes that can look into his soul. He shivers. He knows the answer before the doctor responds. “I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester, but I like to keep all of my relationships with patients strictly professional.”

“I understand,” Dean mutters and curses himself for having said anything at all.

He only notices that he has his eyes squeezed shut again, when something warm touches his arm. Dr. Novak has rested his hand lightly on Dean’s arm. “You should rest now. I’ll come by on my rounds later today. Until then, the call button is right there and you are in good hands with our nurses.”

Dean just nods and keeps staring at the hand on his arm. Long fingers, strong, but the touch is gentle. “Thank you,” is the only thing he finally allows himself to say, the only thing he trusts won’t ruin anything else.

“It’s alright, nothing to thank me for, it’s my job.” A slight increase in pressure as the doctor squeezes his arm lightly, then the warmth is gone and Dean is alone.

Yep, the tremor is still there. Not a good sign. It means it isn’t just nerves. It is the fact that he’s drying out. Dean knows that he is screwed when that only makes him want a drink harder. No dice of course, not in the hospital. Unless he gets up and goes to that bar that’s bound to be around here somewhere… He looks at his arm where the IV steadily drips into him.

There is a question he could have asked to keep Mr. I-am-so-professional here for a little while longer. What’s in this IV? It’s an innocent question, too, unless you count in his natural gravitation towards addiction. If this is morphine, he might end up double screwed. And judging by the heaviness in his limbs, the slow fogging of his mind, it might well be.

Alright, morphine instead of bar then. He can deal with that. Possibly. Maybe. Sleep is good anyway, he figures and closes his eyes again, resolutely blocking out both the future and the past.

Chapter Text

When he wakes up again, Dean feels like he has slept forever. To tell the truth, he can't even remember when he has last slept more than 4 hours in a row, so this must be some kind of record. Stretching is somewhat easier than it was. After three days of sleeping, he should try to get up. Maybe get out of this gown. Hopefully there are some clothes that he can wear. How bad were his clothes after the accident? It’s not like he brought a set of spares. But getting up would be so nice. Going to that bar would be, too, his brain suggests. A drink would be appreciated about now.

But before he gets any further in his thoughts, the door opens and a man with a wide smile walks in. Dean immediately dislikes that smile. It is big and toothy and the mischievous twinkle in the man’s eyes spells trouble. The smile gets even wider when the man notices that Dean is awake.

“Ah, Mr. Winchester! You’re up! Excellent!” he bursts out and Dean shrinks back at the sheer volume. With a spring in his step, the man comes closer and Dean fights the urge to climb out of the far side of the bed. He feels like a trapped rabbit.

“Who are you?” That's all he gets out. How eloquent.

The man laughs out loud. “Come on, isn't it obvious? Awesome hair, even though I haven’t slept in, uhhh, 36 hours, feather-light steps, commanding air, nurse’s scrubs – come on, I have faith in you! You can puzzle it out!”

“You are my nurse?” Dean asks skeptically and looks the guy up and down.

“Yes! Fanfare, confetti, celebration. You left a few brain cells alive. Good for you.”

Dean doubles back at this. Either he misheard this or it is the most insensitive joke he’s ever heard. There’s just no way that this over the top I-want-to-be-funny guy is a nurse. So he replies, “Dude, no way you’re a nurse.”

This time the laughter is accompanied by an eye-roll. “And here I just thought you had me all figured out. Believe it or not, but yes, I – Gabriel Novak – swear that I am a nurse. I can show you my diploma, if you insist. For some reason a lot of people want to see it. I wonder why.”

Now even Dean has to laugh and while it feels good to laugh, it also hurts a little.
“No need for that, I’ll try to just believe you… wait a minute... did you just say Gabriel Novak?”

“Ah, yes, you have met my brother already. He’s told me,” Gabriel states with a grin.

Dean nods, “Yeah, I… I have.” Dr. Novak has told him about Dean? Of course, he’s told him. The doctor tells the nurses about his patients. ‘Winchester, get a grip, it doesn’t mean anything.’

Gabriel grins widely again. “Don't worry, I am nothing like him. He is always so serious and all business, while I don't see everything that critical.”

“I can see that,” Dean observes and Gabriel laughs again.

Obviously that is something he does often, Dean thinks and he decides that he kind of likes this guy after all. Strange to think that he is actually the brother of Dr. Novak, who didn't even tell him his first name. Dean sees a chance here, even though he knows that that might not be the wisest idea he’s ever had. But on the other hand, is there even anything left he can lose? Nope, dignity be damned.

“While chatting is really fun, I also – sadly – have a little work to do. First, I will check if everything is alright and after that we see if you are ready to try to eat something.”
With that, Gabriel starts to check his clipboard and it strikes Dean that he does it with the same accuracy as his brother.

“So... Mr. Dean Winchester... is it okay if I call you Dean?” Gabriel asks after taking another look at the chart and Dean can't help but laugh. Yep, these two brothers are very different.

Like Sam and he are different. For a brief moment, with nothing to anesthetize the feeling, the true extent of how much he actually misses his baby-brother hits him.

“Yes, ...Gabriel... that is okay with me,” Dean answers finally and Gabriel grins.

“Superb! I already feel much closer to you. So, look, Dean, let us be straight with each other here. DUIs aren’t the most well liked cases in the hospital. Actually, I’d pretty much say doctors and nurses frown on that like Baptists frown on dancing. So that’s why you got me. Because I don’t frown on anything. I don’t treat anyone differently. You’ve got nothing to fear from me. I wanted you to know that. Alright?”

“Umm, you are definitely just as direct as your brother,” Dean says haltingly. What do you answer to that anyway? One thing he is sure about, though, is that he has never in his life met a nurse like Gabriel and he is pretty certain that there isn't another one like him in all of existence.

“So, my brother and me, we got something in common after all, huh?” Gabriel frowns.

“It’s good, though,” Dean reassures him. “I appreciate it.”

For that, he earns another big wide smile from the other man.

“Now that’s the spirit!” Gabriel exclaims and Dean believes that his grin gets even wider when he continues. “I'll now check your vitals, pulse and yada yada, you know, all that medical stuff. So first we get you in a little more upright position with this awesome remote control here and then, well, just roll with it.”

Despite the comedy routine, Gabriel actually does his job well. He talks Dean through every step, but of course that doesn’t fill the whole time, so he also tells him facts about the human body nobody needs to know.

While taking his pulse he tells him the first one.
“Fun fact: Did you know that a person remains conscious for eight seconds after being decapitated?”

When Gabriel takes his blood, Dean hears another two.
“Here is another fun fact: An average hiccup lasts 5 minutes. I don't know who has hiccups for just five minutes.”

“Did you know that fingernails grow nearly 4 times faster than toenails. You can actually measure it if you mark a spot with nail polish and watch it grow out. Not that I would do something like that….on weekdays. Ahem.”

Somehow, over the course of his check-up, Dean gets drawn into the babbling and he likes the distraction that it brings. “You’re a hell of a lot of fun, you know that?” Dean states and Gabriel applauses. Literally. He claps his hands like an idiot.

“Thank you, Dean-o! You’re making me very happy.”

“Dean-o?” Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I think we should quickly move on to the let's-give-each-other-nicknames stage, don't you?”

Nicknames? Dean feels like he is in an emergency-room-soap, with nicknames, over-the-top hospital staff, comedy, tragedy and lots of drama. Not that he knows any such shows. Or enjoys watching them. No, honestly, he doesn’t. It’s completely not his fault that Gabriel reminds him of that one TV doctor. You know, the perky one. At least she was perky before she lost her leg.

“Yeah, alright, Arizona Robbins,” Dean answers with a smirk and isn’t sure whether he wants Gabriel to get the reference. But then, a dude who tells you that every person has a unique tongue print most likely has weird TV habits himself.

Still, Gabriel’s reaction catches him by surprise. He stares at him with an open mouth, then starts to flap his hands around uncontrollably while whispering “Ohmygodomygodomygod.”

The ‘ohmygods’ gets louder and louder until suddenly Gabriel shouts, “You – watch - DR. SEXY M.D.!!!! And isn’t Arizona awesome? I mean mainly because she’s married to a Goddess, but I’m pretty sure she loves candy just as much as I do and that is awesome and she is funny, you know, people underestimate her on that account because of the whole drama with the leg and everything and who would you be? Hmm. Let me think. Say, have you ever strangled your boyfriend?”

“What?” Dean chokes on his own spit and coughs hard enough that the pain smashes right through the painkillers and brings tears to his eyes.

“No strangling or no boyfriend? Ah, never mind, you are not Owen anyway. Wait, let me think. Hmm. Oh, I got it! Alex Karev. Yep. The asshole who’s so emotionally blocked that he rather drowns his sorrows than talk about them and work them out. That’s you.”

Now that is eerily accurate.

“Don’t worry, though,” Gabriel pats his shoulder, “he’s got a good heart underneath all of that. I’m sure you do, too.”

Dean feels the heat rise to his face. “You’re wrong about that one, dude.”

“Nah, I’m rarely wrong,” Gabriel chuckles. “Now, if I’m Arizona and you are Alex and we’re rocking peds together, that leaves one question: who is Dr. Sexy?”

“Well, your brother, obviously,” Dean answers and notices only a moment later what he has just said.

For a moment, Gabriel freezes mid-motion, then he starts to grin widely again. He even starts bouncing from excitement. “My brother, huh?”

Dean knows that his face is now tomato-red, so he tries to save what there is to save, “Well, dark hair, blue eyes, definite resemblance. And I assume your brother is a brilliant doctor, too…”

“…and sexy, huh, Dean-o?” Gabriel teases while still bouncing.

“Oh, shut up,” Dean grumbles.

“Well, it’s you who said it was obviously my brother. Now you gotta suck it up and own that.”

Dean groans but even he can see that there is no way out but forward. “Alright. Alright. You win. Yes, I think your brother is sexy. Sexier than Dr. Sexy, actually. Can we please drop it now?”

“Ha! Sexier than Dr. Sexy? Interesting!” The mischievous spark is back in Gabriel’s eyes and it worries Dean to no end.

“Please, Gabriel, stop it. Your brother hates me enough as is, you don’t need to add to that by telling him that I think he’s sexy,” Dean begs.

A frown appears on Gabriel’s face. “What makes you say that he hates you?”

“Oh come on, Gabriel. You said it yourself, no one likes DUIs.” Somehow that is easier to say than any of the other words. Like ‘alcoholic’. Or ‘drunk’.

“Doesn’t mean he hates you. And also, it’s in your power to change that, you know that, right?”

Dean doesn’t answer. It isn’t like he hasn’t tried. He just never managed to stay sober. He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see Sam’s disappointed slump whenever he found yet another bottle of Whiskey in a household that was supposed to be dry.

“Oh, Dean-o, no!” Gabriel pokes him to get his attention. “Stop with the frowny face! I don’t like it! Dr. Sexy doesn’t approve of it, either!”

Dean just nods. He doesn’t find in him to smile. The guilt is too strong.

Gabriel sighs and sits down at the edge of Dean’s bed. “Alright, promise not to tell on me?”

Dean looks at him questioningly.

“Come on, Dean, I’m trying to cheer you up here. But you have to promise not to rat me out.”

Interest spiked, Dean nods. “Alright, I promise.”

“Awesome!” Immediately Gabriel’s smile is back. “So, here it comes: He likes your eyes. Cassie, I mean. He gave me a whole speech about how they are neither forest green nor grass green. A whole speech… and believe me when I say this, Dean-o, that is saying somethin’.”

“Cassie?” Dean asks confused.

“My brother, you dumbass!”

“His name is Cassie?”

“Nah, his name is Castiel. He hates it when I call him Cassie. Which is exactly why I keep doing it,” Gabriel laughs.

He pats Dean’s knee and gets up. “Alright, Dean-o, you’re obviously completely fucked up, but medically, everything is well. So I gotta go look after whoever is worse off than you. And send someone with breakfast to you, since you should really eat something.”

Dean is still dumb-founded and doesn’t manage more than a nod and mumbled “Okay.”

Gabriel is already halfway out of the door when he turns back and sends Dean a satisfied smile. “Ha! I know it! Fanfiction green! That’s the color of your eyes!” He nods to himself as if coming to a decision, “Yep, I ship it.” And with that he is finally gone.

Chapter Text

Castiel. Dean repeats the name in his mind. Gabriel let it slip so easily where the doctor himself wouldn’t tell him.
Castiel. Strange name. Old-fashioned. Castiel, Gabriel, what’s with the ‘–iels’? Parental naming hang-up?
Castiel. It sounds very nice, though, when you repeat it like this. He wonders how it would sound to hear it from Dr. Novak himself. Sexy, he bets, and sighs. Won’t be happening of course, but no harm in imagining it, right?

Another knock on the door is a welcome distraction and Dean expects that someone will be bringing his breakfast, so he just shouts a short “Yeah”.

He sees the tray first, balanced precariously in one hand. Then the plaid and jeans instead of the scrubs. The unkempt beard. Suddenly is eyes widen and whatever little hunger he had is gone. “Bobby…”

“Damn right it’s me, you idjit!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean stammers confounded.

“Don’t use that tone with me, young man!”

“I wasn’t…”

But Bobby keeps talking right over him, “I’ve been here every day since Sammy called me on Friday morning at 4am after he got the call from the hospital. Tells me all upset that you got yourself into trouble and that they aren’t even sure you are going to make it and that he’s too far off in California and can’t get there and whether I’d go so that you wouldn’t be alone. So I got my ass into my car and drove for an hour in the middle of the night.”

He growls and slams the tray down hard enough that the orange juice splashes over. But then suddenly he bends forward and draws Dean into an awkward and tight hug. Tight enough to hurt, actually. “God, boy, I never want to get a phone call like that again. Wasn’t until the next day that they were even sure you’d pull through. You scared the hell out of me.”

Squirming weakly, Dean tries to get away from the hug, because all he can think now is that this is worse than anything that’s happened before. He can live with being a drunk. He can live with his own shitty behavior. But he can’t cope with this. He can’t cope with Bobby hugging him. “Sorry,” he mumbles and Bobby gets the drift and lets go of him.

“Sorry ain’t quite going to cover it, son,” Bobby huffs.

Dean nods. He knows that. Sorry is never enough. He’s been sorry for his crap as long as he can remember. Never stopped him from acting out again. “You’ve been here every day?” he asks and hates how small his voice sounds.

“Damn right. Had to fight for them to even let me see you, though. Something about blood relatives only in the ICU.” Bobby snorts. “I showed them, though.” He drops onto the chair next to Dean’s bed and pushes the tray closer to Dean. “Here, eat, you idjit. The clown outside told me it was important.”

Dean shakes his head. His throat is too constricted to even get a word out, let alone food down.

“Son, I don’t want to have to say it twice.”

Well, maybe the constricted throat isn’t just the lingering effects of the accident. Dean fights down the tears that suddenly threaten. Being bossed around by Bobby is like coming home. And he hasn’t had a home in a very long time.

Bobby fidgets in his chair uncomfortably. Then he seems to come to a conclusion and leans forward to grab Dean’s hand. “You know that, right? That you are as much my sons as anyone can be, you and Sam, and that I love you both. Family don’t end with blood.”

Now the tears spill over, though thankfully at least they are silent and he doesn’t start sobbing loudly. He nods through them. He doesn’t deserve Bobby’s love one bit, but yes, he knows it’s there. Which only leads to an even more painful thought. He gathers his courage and croaks, “Sammy?”

Bobby shakes his head. “Sorry, son. He’s got too much to do with finals coming up. He won’t come. He knows you’re going to be alright, though.”

Dean doesn’t know why his heart suddenly hurts. It’s not a surprise, really. Why does he even still have Sam as his emergency contact? He wanted to change that a dozen times already. He should have changed it. He doesn’t want him to get tangled up in this, right? Sam’s better off without him.

A plate appears under his nose. “Eat, idjit.”

There’s no force behind the words and Dean knows that Bobby is genuinely sorry. Bobby knows how long it’s been since the two brothers had had any contact. He also knows that it’s Dean’s fault. So Dean takes the plate without protest. The tremor in his hand is still there. Bobby must see it, too. But he doesn’t comment and Dean thinks it’s worth the try to swallow down the guilt with the food. But the fork seems to get stuck midway in the air and he’s unable to open his mouth to take a bite.

“Come on. Cause we’re going to have a talk when you’re done eating. And I want you to have some strength for that.”

Dean shrinks back. He doesn’t need the lecture. Only maybe he does. Because he fucked up again. He can just never stop fucking up. Doesn’t make him want to eat, but Bobby is still looking at him sternly, and Dean knows that he’s never been good at avoiding Bobby. Not as a kid and not now. Bobby just always seems to know and there’s no hiding the things that Dean broke from Bobby.

So he does as he is told and takes a bite of the bland food. The bite seems to get bigger in his mouth. He does his best to chew and swallow, though. He regards the second bite distrustfully but finally convinces himself to open his mouth again. But after the third bite, his stomach is rebelling and he knows that it’s all going to come up again if he has to eat anything else, so he drops the fork.

“I can’t,” Dean says weakly.

“It's okay, son,” Bobby assures him and takes the plate and the fork back. He studies Dean carefully.

Dean doesn't like that look. But he can’t avoid what is coming next. He doesn’t want to hear it, but he guesses he should. So he allows himself to close his eyes for a few seconds to prepare himself. No more crying. Take it like a man. Own up to your crap. That’s what Bobby has taught him anyways. That you’ve got to take responsibility for your mistakes. Dean can do that. God knows, he’s had enough opportunity to learn this lesson.

He concentrates on his breathing. He’s learned that once in a meeting. In and out, until the flow of air is even and his thoughts even out, too. Only his thoughts don’t comply.

Because Sam didn’t come. He knows this is what he should have expected. It’s been months since they talked. A short and unpleasant phone call. The kind where you avoid talking about anything more significant than the weather because you know anything at all is going to end in a fight. And he didn’t want to fight with Sam anymore. No.

God, Sam hasn’t come. He doesn’t care anymore. And he shouldn’t. It is good for him not to care. He’ll go places. Be a successful lawyer. Marry and have beautiful children and they’ll never meet Dean, so they won’t get fucked up.

Yeah, this isn’t working. This isn’t working at all. So he opens his eyes before he can get himself deep enough into the downward spiral to ask Bobby for a drink. “Alright, Bobby. I’m ready. Hit me.”

Bobby nods thoughtfully. “So, you crashed the Impala.”

Now that’s weird because Dean hasn't for a minute thought about his baby since waking up and she is the one thing in his life that he’s clinging to. The one thing worth anything. “Yeah... I guess I did.”

“The same Impala that you and I rebuilt from the ground up?”

There is only that one Impala, so Dean knows that Bobby doesn’t actually want an answer.

“Do you remember why we had to rebuild it?”

As if he could forget that. Because his Dad had smashed it into a wall while he was driving drunk,
that’s why. The shame burns hot on Dean’s face.

“Do you remember how many hours we put into that car?”

A solid six months. The whole of John’s recovery. That’s how long it had taken to rebuild the car.

“He didn’t want it back, though…” Dean mumbles.

“Of course he didn’t want it back, you idjit! Because by this time it wasn’t his car anymore! It was yours! He wanted you to have it. So that you could do better than him! And now look what you’ve done!”

Bobby sounds angry now and this is more like what Dean had expected.

But then Bobby takes a deep breath and just shakes his head, “Didn’t think I’d ever have to do that again, but son, you had this coming.”

Dean ducks his head. But he’d do pretty much anything for Bobby and whatever punishment he deals out, Dean’s going to take it.

“Your grown-up ass is grounded.”

“What?” How can Bobby ground him? He’s not a teenager anymore for God’s sake!

“You heard me. Soon as you’re out of here you’re coming home. And you’re staying until you’re behaving like an adult again.”

“Home?” That’s the only word that managed to register.

“Pretty sure you don’t have a steady job in the first place. So you’re going to pack up your stuff and move back in with me. The Impala’s totaled I guess but we’ve saved it before. Only this time it’s you, who’ll be in rehab, not your Dad. You find a frikkin’ day clinic, you get yourself clean. And in the evenings, we’ll work on the Impala.”

“Bobby, I can’t… My insurance doesn’t cover rehab,” is all that Dean can answer.

“Yeah. Thought so. You’ll just have to owe me. And God knows I’ll make you work off every cent. After you’re better, there’s a job at the garage waiting for you.”

“Bobby, I can’t…”

There is a growl to Bobby’s voice again, “If you think for a second I’m going to let you end up like your old man, you’re going to learn that Winchesters aren’t the only ones who are damn stubborn, son.”

Son. Every time Bobby says it, Dean’s heart gives a painful twinge. He’s wanted to be Bobby’s son since the time they lived with him after the fire. Things would have been different, had Bobby been his Dad.

“Look, this ain’t no free ride. You gotta pull your weight. I know for a fact that you’re a good mechanic, so this ain’t no job offer out of pity. Alright?”

Somehow, the tears have crawled their way back into Dean’s eyes and he’s so tired. So tired of fighting against the tears. So tired of fighting to stay alive. So tired of everything.

“Alright?” Bobby repeats.

“My word ain’t worth much, Bobby.”

“It is worth enough to me.”

Dean almost laughs at how well Bobby knows to push all his buttons. But what he says comes out bitter, “Yeah, like Winchester promises are worth anything to anyone. Like my Dad didn’t promise he’d stay sober every time. Like I haven’t disappointed you a thousand times over.”

“Stop it, you idjit,” Bobby scowls. Then he shakes his head. “I know it don’t look it right now, but you’re nothing like your old man, Dean. So don’t try to feed me that crap.”

Dean just huffs a sarcastic laugh. If he isn’t proof that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, he doesn’t know.

Bobby just shakes his head again, clearly frustrated now. “You know that my Dad was a drunk, too, right? You know that he beat the shit out of me and my Mom, right? Don’t you think I’ve had the same thoughts, the same fears of turning out just like him? Well, I didn’t. But you gotta do the work, Dean. Things ain’t just gonna magically be okay. You gotta do the work.” He emphasizes every word in that last sentence. “So, are you up for that, Dean? Are you up for doing the hard work?”

Dean is so exhausted. All of his energy has been sucked out of him. He’s too tired to argue about this. “I’ll try, Bobby. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but I’ll try.”

“That's all I wanted to hear,” Bobby nods with a satisfied smile. “Ain’t nothing else anyone can do but try.”

He ruffles Dean’s hair and Dean gives him a weak smile. That’s the best he can manage right now. Actually, even that is hard. “Too tired,” he mumbles. “Sorry.” And already his eyes won’t stay open.

“It’s alright, son. Sleep. Get your strength back.”

Bobby’s voice already drifts to the background and Dean wonders how long he will feel this helpless, how long he will keep falling asleep again and again, because lately it seems that’s all he’s doing.

But before he drifts off into sleep, a name pops into his mind: Castiel, and it is accompanied by the image of blue eyes with the depth of an ocean and a smile that lights up the whole room, and despite everything, that makes him smile, too.

Chapter Text

“No, Gabriel, I don’t want to be on a first name basis with any of my patients,” is the first thing Dean hears when he slowly comes back from his dreams and he instantly knows who is talking. He would recognize this one voice out of a million.

“Come on, Cassie, make an exception. Just once!” Gabriel of course, whining, by the sound of it.

“No exceptions, Gabriel. And I told you not to call me that.” Damn it, he sounds sexy even when he’s annoyed. Dean wishes he could listen to this voice all day long.

“But, Cassie, look at him. He is gorgeous. Or do I have to remind you that, and I quote: 'He has really green eyes, like a green field on a sunny morning or possibly like the first leaves on a tree after a long, hard winter...'”

“Gabriel! Stop it! Just do your Goddamn job and go bother someone else. I have better things to do than argue with you about doctor-patient-conduct. The rules of which you’re obviously misinformed on.”

There are footsteps. He figures that Castiel is leaving and decides that he has to open his eyes fast. All he catches is a glimpse of the back of a white coat.

“Ah, you are awake, Dean-o!” Gabriel exclaims and is already by his side. Dean doesn't like the big grin that never seems to fade.

“I am truly sorry that you just missed your Dr. Sexy, but he is a busy man and I am sure you will see him again soon, because you see, he cares about you. Well, technically he cares about every one of his patients, but whatever.”

“You never stop talking, do you?” Dean grumbles.

Gabriel smiles even bigger when he jokes, “You got me. You found out my great secret. What do I do now? Should I flee the country? Or tell Dr. Sexy that he’s too sexy for even the GQ cover?”

This time, Dean can't help but roll his eyes.

Gabriel shakes his head as if disappointed and sighs over-dramatically. “Okay, I get it. You want to know what I really am going to do now. And I will tell you, just because I am awesome. I will be taking out your foley catheter.”

“What?” Dean's eloquence has deserted him again.

“I have to take out your foley catheter,” Gabriel repeats slowly, clearly enjoying this.

“No way I let you take out my … something catheter!” Dean replies and shudders at the thought of it.

“Yes, you will. Come on, Dean-o, work with me here. It's not a big deal,” Gabriel urges him on while he pulls gloves over his hands.

“No, I won't!” Dean refuses. No way will he let Gabriel’s hands anywhere near there.

Now it's Gabriel's part to roll his eyes. “Dean-o, don't behave like a fifteen year old. It's not like I haven't done it before. And not as if I haven't seen your 'erectile organ' before. Or how do you think the catheter got there in the first place?”

Dean is pretty sure that he is turning red from embarrassment and he wishes himself far away. “No,” he states flatly.

“Okay,” Gabriel gives in and Dean looks at him hard, because that was way too easy. And indeed, there is a wicked smile on Gabriel’s face. “If you don't want me to do it, you give me no other choice but to get Dr. Novak to do it…”

“No, you sonofabitch, you wouldn’t,” Dean hisses.

“Yes, I would.”

Dean knows when he is defeated and he curses himself that he gave his nurse this much power over him. “Okay, you won. Let's get it over with.”

“That's my boy!” Gabriel declares and claps his hands together. “And after that we try to get you out of bed and walk a few steps. Let’s see how that's working for you. And since I am so awesome... if you're being good, I'll convince Cassie to look after you once more before he leaves for today. That is a promise.”

Dean shakes his head. This nurse is unbelievable. But then, he kind of likes him, too. “Gabe... you’re horrible, you know that, right?”

“Ohhhh.... I’ve got a nickname!” Gabriel shouts excitedly. “And no, I've told you, I am awesome! And now, let's get this over with.”

***

Never in his life has Dean thought that sitting up without help could be impossible, but here he is and he can't get up without Gabriel's help.

“Why is this so difficult?” he curses.

Gabe just pats his back. “It's okay, Dean-o. Everyone who was out for three whole days would find it hard to get up on his feet again.”

Finally, Dean manages to sit upright and for a moment, his vision turns dark. A groan escapes his mouth and Gabriel’s hand stabilizes him. “Are you okay? Your blood pressure might be low, so take your time. We are in no hurry here.”

After all the jokes, it is almost creepy to have Gabriel serious and concerned, Dean thinks as he waits for his vision to clear.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let's do it,” he finally states.

Gabe smiles encouragingly, “As you wish. Let's just try a few steps for now, we don't want you to push yourself too hard.”

Dean nods and lowers one foot to the ground, then the second, while Gabriel is always by his side and supports him. Finally, Dean stands and his legs feel like pudding. He isn't sure that he is going to be able to walk a single step.

“Oh my God, nobody tells you how hard it is to stand up. Ever.” Dean grumbles.

He only earns a chuckle from Gabe, though. “No, no one ever tells you that, because no one ever talks about how it is in a hospital. All they complain about is the food. It's always the food that bothers them.”

That makes Dean smile, while he tries to concentrate on the task at hand. One tiny step. Another. It's exhausting and hard and he wonders how little babies find it in them to even try to stand upright and walk.

His feet give out and he almost falls but Gabriel is right by his side and catches him. “Easy there, tiger. I think that's enough for today!” Gabe declares and half drags, half guides Dean back to the bed.

With a relieved sigh, Dean lets himself sink back into the bed. All he wants now is to rest and do nothing for maybe forever.

“You did well, Dean,” Gabriel informs him. “Lollipop for the effort?” He produces a red and green lollipop from somewhere inside his scrubs.

Dean huffs, “I’m not a kid anymore, Arizona.”

Another laugh from Gabriel while he pops the candy in his own mouth. “If you say so, Dean-o. I like you anyway.”

Well, that is something Dean hasn't expected. But then, Gabe doesn’t know him. Not really. He’d stop liking him quickly enough if he did.

“I will go keep my promise now, so prepare yourself mentally to see my handsome brother later. Try not to sleep through his visit this time.” Gabe winks at Dean.

Too tired again to come up with a snarky reply, Dean just says, “Whatever you say.”

This earns him another laugh from Gabriel. “Hey, I’m not playing wingman for everyone. So don't waste the opportunity. I will look after my other patients now and then my shift ends in half an hour. So I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean-o.”

“See you, Gabe,” Dean responds while closing his eyes for the seemingly thousandth time today. If he gets a reply, he doesn’t hear it anymore as he drifts off again.

Chapter Text

“Sleep well, my boy.” His mother smiles at him softly. He feels the love that is surrounding him and for this moment, the world is a good place. As if he is invincible and nothing can hurt him while his mother gives him a kiss on the forehead.

“Do you think he will like me?” he asks pointing at her belly and she laughs. It sounds like angels singing.

“Dean, you have asked me that question a hundred times already. Of course he will like you. You will be the best big brother our little Sammy can wish for.”

“The best brother,” Dean repeats and Mary nods.

“Now try to sleep. Father will be home soon.”

- - -

A shot. Another one. He can't remember how long he has been sitting in this bar or how much he already drank. He doesn't even taste the whiskey anymore, still, he orders another one. One drink after the other.

“You told me you’d stop! You promised me to try, Dean. If you keep drinking like this, someday you will end up like… Dad.” The voice of his little brother rings hollow in his ear. He knows that Sam is right. He always has been right, and though Dean knows that, he just can't stop.

Every time he tries, something drives him right back to it. Every time he fails, he feels the guilt dragging him down even further. Dean has let down everyone who has ever believed in him, everyone who has ever loved him.

- - -

Dean sits in a park and it is almost peaceful. Silently he watches the children chasing each other at the playground. Like Sammy and he used to do.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

Dean turns his head and looks right into the bluest eyes he has ever seen. He wants to drown in these eyes.

“I guess,” he answers while he glances down to lips that are just waiting to be kissed. He wants to kiss them. Right now. Right here. He wants to kiss them until he forgets who he is, that he is.

- - -

The night is dark, there are no stars in the sky today. His vision is blurred, he has had too much to drink, way too much to drink to drive. Baby will take him home, though, like she always does.

A bang. Glass splintering. Metal crushing.
Dead bodies everywhere. No matter where Dean looks, so many dead people around him.
His hands feel sticky and he looks down. There is blood. So much blood.
What has he done?
He wants to scream but it comes out voiceless.
‘Help me. Somebody please help me.’
Tears are falling down his face and an overwhelming pain overcomes him.

This is how it must feel to die.

***

“Wake up! Mr. Winchester! Wake up!”

A hand on his shoulder startles him out of where he was, but there is still all the blood. There is so much blood.

“It is just a dream, just a nightmare,” the voice tries to sooth him.

But Dean can’t help but stare at his hands. Blood. All this blood. It is still there. He knows it is still there. That he doesn’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t still there. Frantically, he rubs his hands against the sheets of the bed, tries to wipe it off, tries to clean off the warm stickiness.

“No, stop!” Strong hands grab his, “you’re ripping out the IV, stop!”

But he can’t. He has to wipe them clean. He can’t walk around with all this blood on his hands.

“Mr. Winchester, look at me. You have to breathe! You have to stop hurting yourself! Mr. Winchester – Dean!”

Confused, he looks up. Blue eyes. Very blue eyes. Crinkled at the brow in worry. He knows this face.

“Dean? Do you know where you are?”

He knows the voice, too. Finally, he realizes that he is awake and shaking like a leaf.

“Dean?”

“I’m in the hospital.” Only when he speaks does he notice the roughness in his throat and then the tears that run down his face. He tries to free his hands, to wipe away the tears and with them his weakness, but the strong hands hold him in place.

“Not before I am sure that you won’t hurt yourself.”

“Please.” It comes out broken. “I won’t.”

“Hmm,” the warm hands linger for a long moment before they hesitantly let go. Only when Dean doesn’t move immediately, does the doctor straighten up. “Here,” he hands Dean a tissue which Dean gratefully accepts.

The doctor politely looks away, while Dean tries to compose himself.

“What did you dream?” asks the doctor finally. “If it isn’t too personal a question.”

“Why’d you call me Dean?” asks Dean back. “Thought you had rules.”

Dr. Novak sighs. “I do. Not letting my patients hurt themselves is higher up on the priority list than first names, though.”

“Gabe told me your name.” Talking is good. As long as he is talking, he almost can’t feel the warm blood anymore.

“Gabe?” Dr. Novak raises his eyebrows.

“He came up with the nickname stage, not me,” defends Dean.

“Nickname stage?” Now Dr. Novak’s eyebrows draw together in a frown.

“Shouldn’t have told you that, huh? You’re going to give him a lecture on proper conduct or something.”

“I most certainly should.” Hands on his hips, the doctor is a picture of righteous indignation.

“The accident. I was dreaming about the accident,” Dean finally admits.

It works insofar as that the doctor takes his hands from his hips and sits down in the visitor’s chair.

“There was blood everywhere. So much blood. I’ve hit someone for sure.” He bites his lip hard, but avoids trying to wipe his hands again. He doesn’t want to end up in restraints.

Dr. Novak nods. “Yes, you did.” His eyes are a deeper shade of blue when he looks at Dean.
Several conflicting emotions are running across his face before he continues, “I’m not sure I should be telling you this. But I’ve asked around. There was a second victim that got admitted to the hospital after the accident.”

“Who? How bad?” Dean’s voice sounds slightly frantic to himself, but it is steadier than he feels. He hit someone. Now it isn’t just himself he is killing anymore.

“A guy in his forties. I’m not allowed to tell you his name. I can tell you that there wasn’t as much blood as there was in your dream. He was lucky. You hit the passenger side of his car. And he was driving alone. His injuries were superficial. He’s already back home.”

Dean nods. His brain is so foggy, it’s like he hears what Cas is saying, but it doesn’t register in his mind. “Cas…” he mumbles when he catches what he’s just thought. It fits him, somehow, that name. Better than Cassie, anyway.

“What?” The doctor stares at him.

But Dean can’t deal with this right now, the other thing is already too much. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

Dr. Novak nods solemnly. “You’re recovering. You’re getting stronger and you are coherent. The police are bugging me to let them talk to you. I can hold them off until tomorrow but then they’re going to barge in whether I say yes or no. I thought you might want to know what to expect beforehand.”

The doctor doesn’t look especially happy at the mention of police barging into Dean’s room. Or Dean could be imagining that. “Thank you,” is all the answer that comes to mind.

“You are welcome. Do you want me to give you something to make you sleep without as many dreams?”

“More drugs?” Dean asks.

The doctor nods.

He wants to say yes. He wants to be able to forget the guilt. To not feel the pain. To float away. But the doctor’s eyes hold his and there is something about them that wants to make the best in Dean come out. Not that he thinks there is much left of what was once good about him. But this much he can do for Blue Eyes.

“Will you keep calling me Dean if I refuse that offer?” he asks.

He might be imagining it, the small crinkles around the eyes that indicate that the doctor is smiling, when Dr. Novak challenges him back, “Will you stop hurting yourself if I do?”

There is a moment that is frozen in time. Then, though he doesn’t know what possesses him, Dean holds out his hand for the doctor to take. “Deal?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” warns Dr. Novak.

“That’s alright, Castiel, I expect nothing else of you,” says Dean and hopes that he’s not going too far.

Castiel is shaking his head but at the same time, he can’t keep back the smile that is spreading on his face. “My brother will be the death of my professional career. But you, Dean Winchester, have got yourself a deal.”

Chapter Text

The room is silent apart from the low hum of electricity that he imagines blankets the whole hospital. Dean is staring at the ceiling. He has long lonely hours ahead of him. He fears them.

Even after talking to Castiel, the nightmare is still too vivid. He wouldn’t want to go back to sleep just now, even if he thought he could. He thinks about letting the mindless chatter of the TV distract him, but then he pictures the gallons of blood on the crime shows and the inevitable blood on the news and his hands start itching again. Worse still, he thinks about the amount of drinks that the cops in those crime shows chug down, and maybe it’s better to just think about the blood.

The other guy is fine. He is home and he is fine. He has to remind himself of that. He didn’t kill him. Somehow, that thought provides no comfort. He could have killed him. Cas said it, the other guy was lucky. He shouldn’t have had to be lucky.

Dean’s fingernails are digging into the palms of his hands until the pain is acute. But he stops before he draws blood. He promised.

He tries counting to one hundred instead. It doesn't work to distract him
He tries praying to whomever might be listening, but he can't find the right words.
He tries closing his eyes again and to ban all thoughts and almost laughs because that never actually works and he has no idea why he is even trying it.

He tries controlled breathing, and that makes him a little calmer at least, because he can imagine warm hands holding his and blue eyes that have their steady look fixed on him. He breathes in sync with the shadowy figure.

It was a mistake, probably, promising him. He knows that Cas meant more than just ripping out his IV when he asked him not to hurt himself anymore. But Castiel doesn’t know. Doesn’t know how often Dean has already messed up.

Bobby knows. And still, Bobby has made him promise to get sober, too. He hasn’t given up hope on him.

Sam is the only smart one amongst them all. The only one who knows a lost cause when he sees one and has the good sense to stay away.
Dean grits his teeth against the onslaught of pain.

Then the image of Cas’ face is there again, his blue eyes boring right through him. It makes his breath hitch for a second, but then he lets go of a piece of the pain. Just enough to start breathing in sync with the image again. Slower, calmer.

Cas has seen him at his worst. In a coma after driving drunk. He should disdain Dean. Dean would be able to cope with that. He had expected it. He hasn’t expected these blue eyes getting to him with their soft worry behind the stern expression. He hasn’t expected Cas to latch onto the half-forgotten part of Dean that believes that maybe there is some good in the world. That maybe he can do some good in the world. That maybe there is good in him.

“I made a promise,” he whispers to himself and is surprised at the resolve in his voice. It must come from that same part in him, that part that he had not even known was there anymore and that Cas has rediscovered.

That is a thought he can hold on to, at least for now. If Cas and Bobby both see that part in him, that part that isn’t broken beyond repair, then maybe it is actually real. Then maybe he can build on that and keep fighting.

He’ll fail, most likely, but still. He can't give up, not this easily. He won't give up just because of one nightmare. But it scares him. It scares him more than he wants to admit even to himself. How far he’s sunk. How he’s become not only a danger to himself but also to others. He’s not just hurting his family by lashing out at them or lying to them anymore, he’s hurting complete strangers by hitting them with his car. He’s become – his Dad.

But before the thought can even settle in, he sees himself crying. In front of someone else. Twice today. His Dad would never have done that. Last time Dean cried in front of his Dad, he had gotten his ears cuffed hard. He’d learned his lesson and never cried in front of him anymore. Didn’t matter how much he’d beaten him up.

It’s so ingrained now. Never show weakness. Never cry. He didn’t cry when he was alone, either. But today – first Bobby, then the nightmare.

Bobby’s a better man than his Dad ever was. He’s always known that. Didn’t want to admit it, maybe, but that has never stopped it from being true.

And after the nightmare... when Dr. Novak... Castiel woke him.
The doctor has seen his weakness and Dean doesn't know how to feel about that. His instinct is to take it back. To make it forgotten somehow. But then, his weakness was what got Castiel to call him ‘Dean’. And he doesn’t want to take that back. He doesn’t want to take that back at all.

Dean can almost hear the sound of it still. He doesn’t think his name has ever sounded quite as nice as when that dark rough voice was saying it. Castiel said his name and Dean wants to hear it again, wants to drown in it. And he wants to give it back in little whispers of 'Castiel' and maybe even 'Cas' if he is allowed to. He wants to be allowed to say the doctor’s name all the time.

Dean stops himself right there. He can't go down this road. Not now. He has promises to keep. And he knows from experience that when the pain gets too strong, the pull of the bottle gets too strong, too. He can’t risk it. Not after the tremors in his hands have almost stopped and he has just promised two people to get better. Better not to have hope. Better not to get in too deep.

'Dean,' rings a dark voice in his mind, and he knows that it is already too late. That he already wants this so much that it hurts.

He has to find something to occupy his mind beyond his own brooding. He has way too much time on his hands. Maybe he can ask Gabriel tomorrow to bring him a newspaper or even a goddamn Sudoku magazine, before he drives himself completely crazy.

***

He regrets his wish for distraction when a loud banging wakes him.

“What the hell?” he grumbles as the bright ceiling lights are turned on.

“Rise and shine, Sweetie!” Gabe’s obnoxious voice rings through the room.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home?” Dean growls, eyes screwed shut because the bright light is hurting.

“Up, up, up! Say Hello to your new friend and roommate! Come on, Dean! If I’m awake again, so can you be!” Gabe is clapping his hands together loudly and Dean doesn’t manage more than a groan.

“Sorry, dude, I don’t know what’s gotten into him this morning, Dean’s a fountain of joy usually.”

The banging and clamoring has stopped now but before Dean can dare to open his eyes, a loud snapping right next to his ear makes him jump.

“Gabe!” He slaps Gabriel’s hand away.

“Finally!” Gabe’s smile is as wide and as annoying as always. “Would you care to look to your left now?”

Dean does at is met with a half-dozed smile by the pale blonde man in the other bed.

“Dean, that’s Balthazar. Balthazar, that’s Dean. You two will have so much fun together, I’m sure!”

“Nice to meet you…” The other man slurs.

“Yeah, same. Still drugged up pretty good, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” the other man nods before his eyes fall shut.

“Fountain of joy, huh?” Dean turns his attention back to Gabriel.

“Duh. I couldn’t quite tell him you were a brooding loner, could I now? Not the first impression you want to make.”

Dean lets himself sink back into the pillows, his gaze falling on the clock on the wall. “Dude, it is 5:45 am and that guy is out already. Why the hell did you wake me up?”

“Fun?” Gabe grins.

“Jerk,” Dean grumbles.

“Ah, ah, you don’t want to be mean to me. I can tell you why, too. Or rather, you’ll find out why. Cause I gotta cover Jo’s shift in the pit today. So you’ll have the pleasure of spending a whole day with Demon-Meg.”

“Demon-Meg?” Dean asks. “That sounds ominous.”

“Well, you might want to refrain from calling her that to her face.”

“Calling me what to my face?” comes a stern voice from the door.

“Umm, nothing,” Gabe croaks out, but he turns from the door to Dean very quickly, obviously hiding his quickly spreading flush of embarrassment from the other nurse. A tight grimace of pain is now etched onto his face that has Dean raise his eyebrows at the sudden change in Gabe’s mood, but by the time Gabriel speaks again, he has his voice under control, “Mr. Winchester, this is Meg Masters. She is the head nurse of this station.”

“Hi,” Dean says in what he hopes is a friendly tone.

But the head nurse just raises her eyebrows and turns back to Gabe, “Aren’t you needed elsewhere, Gabriel?”

“Umm, yes. Of course.” Gabe flashes an apologetic smile at Dean and rushes out of the room.

The head nurse gives a ‘hrmph’, turns out the overhead lights and turns on her heels.

***

Dean has blessedly fallen into a light slumber when he gets jostled awake again.

“What the…?” But he stops the word ‘fuck’ from falling from his lips when he sees that it is Meg Masters, who has with a loud clang set his breakfast on the table next to him. “Umm, thanks,” he says instead.

The nurse nods curtly. “I have to take your temperature and blood pressure,” she informs him and rounds in on him before he has a chance to even answer.

He jumps as she shoves the cold thermometer into his ear. At least she doesn’t shove it in other places. When it beeps, she removes it and with another ‘hrmph’, notes the value it shows down on her sheet. Then she ties the blood pressure cuff around his arm.

Dean winces at the sudden pain when she closes it too tight. When the nurse just fixes him with an unfriendly look, white-hot anger rises in his chest: “Would you mind being a little more careful?”

“Quit being a baby,” she bites back. It doesn’t sound like Gabe’s friendly teasing at all.

“Aren’t you supposed to work in a profession that helps people get better, not rip their arms off?”

“You can be glad that we’re helping someone like you at all.” Her voice is icy cold.

“Someone like me?” Dean blows up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh I think you know quite well what that means, Mr. Winchester.” The nurse rips the blood pressure cuff of his arm, writes down the numbers, and slams the sheet back in its place at the foot of his bed. “I will do anything in my power to ensure your recovery, Mr. Winchester. But if you think I’m going to spend one more minute of my time on you than I have to or that I will spend any energy befriending you, you are sorely mistaken. Not all of us are Gabriel Novak, you know. You’re medical values are alright. Now eat your breakfast.” With this, she stomps out of the room.

“Yeah, you sure ain’t no Gabriel Novak,” he grits out between his teeth before noticing that the man in the other bed is awake and staring at him. Immediately a red hot flush burns in his cheeks. “You heard all of that, huh?” He tries for a crooked smile and embarrassedly rubs at his neck.

“What didcha do to her?” The other man’s speech is still a little slurred but he seems a lot more awake than before.

“To her? Nothing.” Dean shakes his head. The white hot anger in his stomach draws together into a small ball that burns his insides. “I’m an alcoholic. She doesn’t like it.” He does a double-take. What the hell did he say that for? It’s no one’s business.

“Yeah, being an alcoholic isn’t so good,” the other man says amiably. “I fell off a roof.”

Dean’s eyebrows rise. That’s not quite the reaction he’s expected to get to his admission. “How many drug did they give you?” he asks.

The other man laughs. It’s a weak sound and ends in a coughing fit, but he doesn’t sound as out of it when he talks again, “No, I actually fell off a roof. My housemate, he… Ah, never mind. It wasn’t my brightest hour.”

“What happened? I mean, where did you get hurt?” Dean clarifies.

“You really want to know? It’s a little embarrassing.”

“Hey, I’m the king of mortified silences, don’t worry on my account,” shrugs Dean.

“I broke my pelvis,” Balthazar admits. “They had to put a few steel screws in to hold everything down there in place. I’ll be in this bed for quite a while before I can get up again.”

“Shit.”

“You can say that,” agrees Balthazar with a sigh. “They said pelvic fractures are usually something that happens only to older people. I think what they wanted to say was: or irresponsible people who climb big heights and then fall down.”

They fall into silence for a moment.

Then Balthazar says, “You should really eat that breakfast. I’m so hungry I might just come over and steal it from you.”

“You can’t move, dude,” Dean points out.

“Yeah, that won’t keep me. I hope they give me lunch.”

“Have you got…” But Dean stops the question when the embarrassment creeps up on him.

“What?”

“You know, since you just had surgery in that area and can’t get up and if you want to eat…”

“Oh,” Balthazar says. “That. Yep. Catheter and poo bag. All in place.”

Dean decides that maybe he didn’t want to know this right before breakfast after all. Too late now. Cautiously, he examines the contents of his breakfast tray. “You want any of this?”

Balthazar sends the food a longing look but shakes his head. “No food yet.”

Dean just nods and picks up the tiny cup of yogurt. It doesn’t seem quite so solid and foreboding as the toast. He makes it through two spoonful before he puts it back down.

“Not hungry?” Balthazar asks.

“Not really, no.” He picks up the orange juice though and takes a swallow. That works better and he drinks the whole thing.

Only after the glass is empty does he remember that he doesn’t have a catheter anymore. “Shit,” he curses silently.

Of course now that he’s noticed, the effect is immediate.
He needs to pee.
He really needs to pee.
He needs someone to help him, though.
He doesn’t want Demon-Meg helping him.
Godfuckindammit.

He makes it through another ten minutes before coming to a decision. The IV tray looks sturdy enough. The bathroom is only a few steps away on the other side of the room. He can make it.
He hits the button on the remote that gets the bed to rise so that he sits as straight as he can get. Now, carefully, legs over the side of the bed. Yes, that’s okay. Gravity is doing most of the work for him. Alright. He’s sitting. Mostly anyway. A little stretch to reach the IV tray. Alright. That’ll work well enough as a crutch. It’s designed to be mobile after all.

Of course, as soon as he tries to put weight on his legs, gravity starts working against him. It doesn’t help that the motion puts strain on the fresh surgical scars. Also, he looks down at his naked legs, there seem to be two dozen bruises of various colors that he hadn’t even noticed before but that are now starting to ache. Well, everything is aching more. They are scaling down the pain meds.

But Dean has gotten through worse pain. He grits his teeth and pushes his hand into the bed to get enough leverage to get up. Yes, yes, that works, that works, forward now, immediately forward before he can fall back down, oh, oh that’s not good, oh God, why are his legs not keeping him upright, oh no, he’s not going to make it, he’s going to…

“Dean!” There is a rush of white and suddenly strong arms catch him. “Dean, what the hell are you doing?”

The warmth around his torso doesn’t even have time to register before he is being sat back down on the bed.

“It is dangerous to get up without help! What were you thinking?”

“I… I was… sorry,” Dean says sheepishly. “Bathroom.”

Castiel sighs. “You could have called the nurse.”

“Demon-Meg? Never!”

The doctor shakes his head. He doesn’t allow the smile to spread beyond his eyes but Dean doubts that he’s imagining it. “My brother is a bad influence on you. I can bring you a bedpan.”

“What? No!” That flush is not going to disappear from his cheeks anytime soon. Using a bedpan in front of, no, absolutely not. “Please, Castiel,” Dean begs, “bathroom, please.”

A slight frown appears on Castiel’s forehead but after a moment, he nods. “Alright. If you insist, we can try. But you let me help you. And you tell me the minute something hurts too badly.”

Dean nods. That, he can live with.

Still shaking his head, Castiel arranges himself parallel to Dean. “Arm around my shoulder,” he commands.

“Bossy.” Only when Castiel looks at him with raised eyebrows does Dean notice that he said that out loud. Yes, that blush is not going anywhere. He hurries to obey and puts his arm around Castiel’s shoulder, who gets a tight grip around his waist.

“We’re going to do this slowly and carefully. Lean your weight on me. Just see that you keep your balance.”

Dean nods.

“Okay, on three. 1 – 2 - 3.”

Dean holds on tight to Castiel with one hand and to the IV tray with the other. It is surprisingly easy to get up when he can lean his weight on someone else.

“Good,” Castiel nods. “Now we’ll take it one step at a time.”

Castiel’s body is strong under Dean, carrying him almost effortlessly as they slowly go one step, then another. “You’re lean, but you’re strong,” he remarks.

He turns his head a little bit towards the other man, not enough to fully look at him, but enough to see the slight red stains that are creeping up his throat. Is he blushing, too? The thought makes Dean feel almost giddy for a second, before he remembers that he shouldn’t put any hope in this.

They make it to the bathroom and Dean gets deposited on the seat. “Can you…?” he asks quietly and Castiel just nods and gives him his privacy.

The way back is shorter somehow, and Dean almost regrets it, even though every muscle in his legs is shaking by now. But without the tight feeling in his bladder distracting him, he can focus on the warmth of Castiel’s body and on the way his muscles shift and move against him, and suddenly his mouth is dry. God, he wants to hold on to this man forever.

But they’re already back at his bed. Castiel helps him lower himself onto the bed and then lets go of his waist. Quickly, before the movement can be awkward because Cas is already too far away, Dean catches his hand and squeezes it tight. “Thank you. I know you didn’t have to do this.” It isn’t half of what he would like to say, but it’s hard enough to talk around the lump in his throat.

Cas gives him a smile. “Can’t very well leave you in the clutches of Demon-Meg, can I now?” he chuckles. “Tell you what, Dean, since my brother won’t be around all day, I’ll check on you periodically, okay? Just to make sure she doesn’t eat you.”

Dean’s smile mirrors Castiel’s now, and that giddy feeling in his stomach is back. “You would do that?”

“Only the best for my patients, right?”

Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand and he notices only now that he’s still holding it. “Sorry,” he mumbles and lets go hesitantly.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Castiel flashes him another smile before turning to go. “You should really eat the rest of your breakfast, though. I’ll see you later. Gentlemen,” he nods to both Dean and Balthazar before leaving.

“Oh my God!”

Dean turns to Balthazar to see him stare open-mouthed at the now empty door. Then he turns back to Dean, “If a wardrobe is the doorway to Narnia, falling off the roof is the doorway into an episode of Dr Sexy.”

Chapter Text

The morning passes surprisingly fast. It isn’t even Demon-Meg who gets his breakfast tray, but a random nurse he doesn’t know and who seems friendly enough.
He chats idly with Balthazar for a bit, who only teases him slightly about his relationship to Castiel, who Balthazar has immediately identified as Dr. Sexy and refuses to call by any other name. It is amazing, how you can pass hours by chatting about TV show trivia. Balthazar thinks Mark Sloan more attractive than Owen Hunt. Dean disagrees. They are both fans of Christina Yang and of Bailey. No one likes Kepner. And they really don’t see why Avery married her.

It is past 11 am, when Castiel comes in. Both Balthazar and Dean stop mid-sentence, having been caught in an argument about the similarities of the hospital staff to the TV hospital staff.

But Castiel’s eyes are so serious that Dean’s face immediately falls, good mood gone. “What’s wrong?”

“The police are here,” Castiel says gravely. “I’m so sorry, Dean, I can’t keep them away any longer.”

Dean’s heart starts to beat hard in his chest. But he had known this was coming. “It’s alright, Cas. Thanks for telling me.”

“Please come in,” Castiel says to someone behind him and then nods and turns to go.

He is already out of the door when Dean notices that he has just called him ‘Cas’. But he has no time to focus on it, as two women in uniform stride into the room. Their faces are impassionate, while Dean’s heartrate has increased another notch. They can’t arrest him, right? Not while he’s still recovering in the hospital?

“You are Dean Winchester?” the woman with the short dark hair asks him.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answers.

She’s closing the curtain, that separates the two beds in the room when necessary before coming closer. “I’m Jody Mills, this is my partner Donna Hanscum. Are you alright with it if my partner tapes our conversation?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean nods.

“Good. We have a few questions concerning an accident with one 67 Impala, license number KAZ Y25. Is that your car?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And you were driving it on Woodland Avenue Southwest on Friday night at around 2:30am?”

“Umm, possible.”

She raises her eyebrows and waits for him to elaborate.

“I don’t really remember,” he confesses.

“Hmm,” with a frown, she notes down a few things on her notepad.

“Look, I remember I was driving my car that night. I’m not contesting that. I know that I shouldn’t have gotten into that car, either. I’d – I’d just be glad if you could tell me what happened, Ma’am.”

“Hmm,” Sheriff Mills frowns again. “What do you remember exactly?”

“That I wanted to get home. That the leather of my car was really nice and warm.” He shrugs. “Nothing after that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I woke up in the ICU three days later. The clock on the wall was annoying. That’s the first thing I remember again.”

Jody nods thoughtfully. “Judging from the alcohol level in your blood, that’s not all that surprising.”

The guilt is tearing at his guts again and he doesn’t manage more than a nod.

“We’ve looked through your records, this is your first DUI?” she asks.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he states quietly.

“Hmm,” she frowns again. “Could have made it a less explosive one.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. It shouldn’t have come to this in the first place.”

“Agreed”, she huffs. “Alright, Mr. Winchester, the situation is the following. You have hit another car, a Toyota Hybrid,” she looks through her report to find the details, “license number SPN 801, owned by one Benny Lafitte, who was also driving the car. His tox screening came back clear, he was completely sober. He had the right of way at a crossroads, you didn’t yield, you hit his car in the passenger side. He has a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise walked away unharmed.”

“Benny Lafitte,” Dean murmurs, the name having caught his attention, even though he can’t quite place it.

Jody Mills waits for a moment but when he doesn’t say anything else, she continues. “As far as I understand, your medical condition is still serious?”

“Umm, I guess so. My spleen’s ruptured. And the doctor wasn’t too happy about the coma.”

“So you will not be leaving this hospital any time soon?”

“You gotta ask Dr. Novak about that. But I think he said something about keeping me here for another ten days or so.”

Jody Mills nods. “Okay. That is good enough for me. From our side, the following is going to happen. We have your statement on tape. We have all the evidence collected. We will compile it and set a court date. Until then, you’re not allowed to leave the county. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. The judge will set a bond and providing you’ll make bond, you’re free to go until your hearing. We’ll let you know the details. Do you have a lawyer that you want informed?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Very well, we’ll send the paperwork to your home address then.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a card. “There’s a telephone number here for the county court. They can appoint you an attorney if you can’t afford one. Since you are not formerly under arrest just yet, the Miranda process is a little backwards. Lucky you.”

Dean agrees and makes a mental note to arrange for someone to check his mail every few days.

“That’s it for right now. You’ll hear from us soon enough.”

“Ma’am?” Dean dares to ask when the two policewomen have already gotten up out of their chairs.

“Yes?”

“What,” suddenly his mouth is dry again, but the feeling is a lot more uncomfortable now than when the cause for it was Castiel’s closeness, “what do I have to expect?”

“It depends,” Sheriff Mills shrugs. “I can’t speak for Mr. Lafitte. From our side, it’s your first offense. So you’re likely to get away with a hefty fine and community service. Your car is totaled so we won’t retract that. Your license of course is gone for now. If I was you, I’d start looking into rehab programs. If you can prove that you’re sober and make an effort to stay sober, the judge might be more lenient. On a personal note, you’d also make a lot less trouble for us if you managed to stay sober. Or at least not drive while drunk.”

Dean swallows hard. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alright. Goodbye for now then. You’ll hear from us.”

Before Dean can answer, the sheriff pulls back the curtain, nods at Balthazar and the two women in uniform are gone.

Dean exhales a sigh of relief.

“You really fucked up, huh?” comes a compassionate voice from the other bed. When Dean looks at him, he shrugs. “Curtains are opaque, they are not soundproof.”

“Yeah, I fucked up,” Dean agrees. Not much sense in denying that, anyway. He lets his head fall back onto the pillows.

“Are you alright?” says a voice that decidedly isn’t Balthazar’s.

Dean sits straight up again immediately.

Castiel is hovering at the door, obviously unsure.

Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head, but when he opens his eyes again Castiel is still there. Not wishful thinking then. Is Castiel actually worried about him?

“You can come in, Cas, you know that, right? It’s your hospital after all.”

“It’s not my hospital,” huffs Castiel but he comes in and Dean notices with some satisfaction that he’s gotten away with calling Castiel ‘Cas’ twice now.

“I thought Dr. Sexy was a board member and owned part of the hospital?” interrupts Balthazar.

Dean shoots him a withering look. “Shut it, Balti. You’re worse than Gabriel.”

Balthazar just laughs and closes his eyes. “I’ll pretend to sleep now, so don’t you worry about me.”

Castiel has followed the exchange with obvious confusion and Dean has no idea how to explain that one, so he just charges on, “It was okay. The cops, I mean. Not as bad as it could have been, anyway. They’re not going to arrest me or anything. So I guess that is a plus.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, but it seems to Dean that his smile is a little bit relieved.

“She also said,” he coughs as he fights with the lump in his throat again, “she said that if I enrolled in some kind of,” the word sticks in his throat for a moment but he manages to make it come out, “rehab program, that that would be good for me at the court hearing.”

Castiel still doesn’t say anything, so Dean presses on, “Could you… would you help me with that? Finding a program?”

He has to avert his eyes after he’s finished. He knows it makes sense to ask his doctor about this, but the admission of the depth of his problem is hard. He wants Castiel to see the best of him, not the worst.

Castiel’s voice is very quiet when he answers, “Is the court process the reason you want to go to rehab?”

“What?” Dean looks at Castiel again, brow now creased in a frown. “No. I had already promised Bobby to go. And, you know, you.”

“Dean…” Castiel sighs and perches on the edge of Dean’s bed. “You know that it doesn’t work that way, right? You can’t do this for the court or for Bobby or for – me. It won’t work. You have to do this for you.”

Dean can’t hold Cas’ eyes. He remembers the times that Sam registered him for some program and he went a few times and then didn’t go back, always finding one excuse or another why the program didn’t fit his needs. Remembers the times they tried to get his Dad to go to meetings regularly, too.

“I know,” he finally answers. “But, Cas, I want this. I want to,” ‘be with you’ his mind volunteers, “get better. I just, I need something to hold onto, okay? And if that’s a promise I made to Bobby or to – you, what’s wrong with that?”

Cas’ smile is very slight, barely reaching past the crinkles around his eyes. “Cas, huh?”

Dean flicks his eyes to the floor, immediately on the retreat. “Sorry. I overstepped.”

“Mm,” Cas makes a non-committal noise. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“Come on, say it again.”

“Cas,” Dean says a little hesitantly.

Cas listens intently and then nods. “I kind of like it. Much better than Cassie anyway.”

“So? You’re saying, you’re allowing me to call you Cas?” Dean can’t really believe what he’s hearing.

Castiel on the other hand is smiling brightly now. “I just might.”

Dean can’t help but to reciprocate the smile, though his turns out shyer and he ducks his head. But still, it is a very warm and fond smile and when he looks up at Cas again, his heart swells with a surge of happiness. “Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Chapter Text

Dean spends the next hour smiling like a fool. He can't help it. Everything still sucks but he is kind of happy, too, and this feeling is a good one. He had almost forgotten how it feels and now his brain is giving him crazy endorphins because of something as silly as a nickname. But it's somehow more, more to him anyway.

Cas.

It's something he’s never imagined and it's hard to actually believe it. He wants to drown in this, wants to let himself fall right into this.

Cas.

Silently he repeats the name again and again.

Saying the name makes it easier to ignore the nagging thought that he is playing a dangerous game. That there is no way that this is going somewhere. That even if, he would only destroy it, like he always does. Pushing away people who care, because if he stays, he’ll let them down. It's easier to run before ever getting that far.

So yeah, he can't let Dr. Blue Eyes get too far entrenched in his heart. Cause he can tell that Cas is a good guy. He deserves better. Dean will only hurt him. However good his intentions right now, in the end, he always lets them down.

Dean looks over to the other bed. As much as he hates talking about his shit, he’s almost certain that talking with Balthazar would help. Because they’d drift away from reality into the safe territory of TV land immediately. His roommate would start a discussion about Dr. Sexy’s newest marital problems or about whether Dr. Sexy is really as hetero as the show tries to convince everyone. (Dean doubts that.)
But it seems that Balthazar is so good at pretending to sleep that he actually fell asleep.

With a sigh, Dean leans back into his pillows. He has to stop himself from over-thinking everything. His short burst of happiness has already evaporated. And he could have used to hold on to that a little longer. But once his mind is running there is no stopping it, and the worst part is that he can't control it. His mind goes in circles and he always returns to the one thing he knows: He doesn't deserve kindness.

Dinner is brought by the same nurse that collected his breakfast and she barely says anything to him. Dean can't blame her, everyone on this station probably knows why he’s here and he is glad that at least he doesn't have to face Demon-Meg right now. This one at least doesn't show her dislike openly.

Sadly, she lets Balthazar sleep, so still no distraction from that side. Instead, Dean tries to concentrate on his food and still thinks that it tastes like nothing.
Gabe was right, complaining about the food is nice and easy. No wonder everyone is doing it.

The minutes are ticking by one by one. Listening to the clock on the wall counting them down doesn’t make them go by faster. But he’s sure he couldn’t stand anything that needs actual concentration, either. He ends up holding his hand an inch above the blanket and watching for tremors. His hand starts shaking after a while but he’s pretty sure that it’s mostly his muscles complaining after the long bed-rest. Does that mean his physical withdrawal symptoms are over? Maybe he has to ask Cas.

Cas.

Isn’t that who he didn’t want to think about too much? Especially not in the same thought as thinking about alcohol. He’s pretty sure that won’t lead down a happy road.

Finally, Meg shows up to give him his thrombosis injection. She doesn’t even bother to mention that he should try to relax, so that it won't hurt quite as much. Of course, he wouldn't be relaxing either way as long as she is around. It ends up being high in the top five of the worst injections ever given to him.
Dean doesn't complain but he starts wishing for Gabriel to be back, and he hopes that he will be at his station again tomorrow. He is not sure if he can stand another day of Demon-Meg’s treatment.

He dozes off for a while and the afternoon feels like a never-ending sequence of minutes passing by slowly. The clock on the wall is showing him that time is actually passing, but he is not entirely sure that it isn't going backwards sometimes.

It's almost 5 p.m. when there is a knock on the door and Dean half expects Cas to enter, because that would be an awesome distraction from the dull grey of the day.

“Just come in,” Dean calls, making a mental note that he has to tell Cas that he is always welcome in his room and that he doesn’t really need to knock.

But when the door opens, there aren’t any white scrubs. There is a blue button-down shirt, probably more expensive than anything Dean owns for clothes. There are nice khakis that are even long enough. He remembers that finding pants that are long enough was always a pain.

It’s about then that his brain catches up with his eyes and he looks up to find the face attached to the clothes.

He’s older. More mature. His hair is longer. But the way he’s biting his lip and looking insecure and small despite his tall frame is so familiar that Dean’s chest starts to ache. It’s his look when he doesn’t know what to expect, whether Dad bought them Christmas presents or is already drunk and is going to beat up Dean.

“Sammy,” he whispers, his voice not up to forming actual sounds. His little brother is here. Dean has to be dreaming.

“Hi Dean,” Sam answers with a half-smile, hands awkwardly tucked into his pockets.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Suddenly his voice is back and it’s coming out way louder and more aggressive than he wants it to. But still, the question stands.

Sam shoots an unsure look over to Balthazar but the man is either actually still out or decides he wants nothing to do with this for now.

“I’m visiting you, Dean.” The unsure expression is gone and replaced with a squaring of his shoulders and a setting of his jaw.

Yep, the verdict is in, Dad didn’t buy presents, he bought booze. Doesn’t matter, though. Because Dean takes the abuse and Sam doesn’t have to. It’s always been that way. It’s going to stay that way. Even when it’s not their Dad anymore but Dean himself who’s the problem. “You’re supposed to be in Stanford, Sam. You’re supposed to study and take exams and become a hot shot lawyer. You’re not supposed to slack off and visit me,” he accuses him.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m doing that, too. Amazing, the shit you get done when you’re sober.” Sam’s voice is cold now. He’s not going to give an inch.

Well, neither is Dean. He crosses his arms best as he can. The IV line is getting in the way. “So you’re still at the top of your class then?” he asks.

His brother comes a few steps closer at this, but he’s also immediately suspicious, “Are you asking this because you really want to know or because you want to deflect from yourself?”

Dean sighs. This is exactly what he doesn’t like about talking to his brother. He is too smart for his own good. And he has his temper in check so much better than Dean.

“Dean?”

“Sorry. Want to sit down?”

Sam doesn’t let the smug look spread on his face, but Dean knows it’s there, somewhere. Doesn’t take Sam longer than a few sentences to break Dean. Never did.

“Please sit,” Dean repeats when Sam doesn’t move. “I really want to know how you’re doing. It’s – it’s been a while.”

“It’s been years, Dean.” But he takes the chair and moves it a bit closer to Dean’s bed before sitting down.

“I know.” It's strange to have his baby-brother sitting right next to him. He’s so smooth and such a respectable guy and here’s Dean in his hospital gown that doesn’t go past his knees. “You look good, Sam. You’re doing well by yourself, I can see that.” You’re doing well without me is what he wants to say, but the words don’t quite want to leave his lips.

“I’m not quite by myself anymore.” A small smile lights up Sam’s face, even though he’s trying to hide it.

Dean knows that expression, too. He gets these smiles when he is thinking about a certain doctor. Only Sam’s smile is much more content. He manages to put a smile on his own face. It doesn’t do to let Sam see how much it hurts Dean to be replaced by someone else. It is what he wanted, right? For Sam to be happy and to be far away from him so that he can’t get hurt. “That’s good news,” he almost succeeds to make it sound cheerful.

Sam is either oblivious or too in love to notice the shift in Dean’s mood. “Her name is Jess. She is so smart! She is also in the top ten percentile of my class. And she’s like, gorgeous. And she loves me. And I love her.”

“So it’s serious.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s serious. We’re engaged, Dean. I didn’t want to tell you on the phone.”

And wow that hits him in the gut. “Congratulations, man. I’m happy for you.” He means every word and it still comes out as pained as he feels.

Sam shoots him a worried look.

“But look, man,” Dean continues, resolved not to let the puppy dog eyes deter him, “that’s all the more reason that you shouldn’t be here. You should be with your girl. Make plans. For the wedding. Or the honeymoon. Or whatever. I mean, not that I’m not glad to see you. To, you know, see in person that you’re doing well. But you, you didn’t need to come, man.” There, that came out better than the outburst before.

“You almost died, Dean. Of course I had to come.” Sam’s face is puzzled.

“No, look, that’s where you’re wrong. You called Bobby. You did right. He’s going to help me. And then, you know, we could always visit another time. When I’m better.”

“Dean…” Sam starts hesitantly and then breaks off.

Dean knows what is going through his mind. Of course he does. Sam has seen their father battle his addiction for all his life. Dean is the only one who has memories of the man when he was sober. Once you fall for the alcohol, you don’t get up. That’s how it is with the Winchesters.

Suddenly, he doesn’t care. He can’t get Sam to leave by yelling at him or by pleading with him? Right, then the truth will do it.

“And that’s exactly why you have to leave, Sam,” he says and the emotion has drained out of his voice. “Because you know how this story ends. Hell, I know it, too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m kind of glad it didn’t end yet. Not for me and not for – I could have killed someone that night, Sam. And if I hadn’t been alone, if you’d been in the passenger seat, it might have been you who got killed.” He just has to see the logic of it. He has to.

But it’s never that easy.

“If I had been with you that night, I would have been driving and none of this would have happened.” There is a spark of temper in Sam’s voice now and Dean recognizes that, too.

“Don’t do that,” he tells him.

“Don’t do what?” Sam asks back.

“Don’t feel guilty for what happens to me. It ain’t your fault.”

There is a moment of stunned silence and then Sam starts chuckling. It’s quiet at first but then it gets louder and more hysterical. “God, Dean, look who is talking.”

Dean is taken aback by Sam’s outbreak. “That’s not the same.”

“Oh, it totally is.”

“No! I’m your big brother! It’s my job to protect you!”

In an instant, the laughter is replaced with anger, “No, it’s not, Dean. It never was. I had to get away to see it. It was never your job to keep me safe. It was our father’s job.”

“But he didn’t do it! There was no one else!” Dean tries to keep his voice down but the fury is hard to contain.

“Yes there was. I was there, Dean. I could have helped. I can still help. Fuck’s sake, I’m a grown man. I can help!”

“But you can’t,” Dean is on a rollercoaster now because quick as that his fury has turned to despair. “You can’t help, Sam,” and now he is pleading with him to understand. “I have to do this. I have to get better. You can’t just enroll me in a program and magically that will help. I have to do this on my own.”

Sam falters and falls in on himself, anger replaced with caution. But also with something that looks suspiciously like – hope. “That is the most responsible thing I’ve ever heard you say about your problem.”

“About my addiction,” Dean sighs. “You can say the word, Sam. Avoiding it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“About your addiction,” Sam nods. “So, what changed?”

Dean has no answer to that so he just shrugs helplessly. “I thought I had killed someone, man. I don’t want that feeling again. And also…”

But he can’t. He can’t tell Sam about Cas. About how much it helps that Cas believes in him. That he lets him call him by a nickname that Dean made up. Because it sounds weird, even in his own head. It shouldn’t be true. He doesn’t know anything about Cas apart from that he is a doctor and that he is kind. Well, and that he has a crazy brother. It shouldn’t be enough to help this much.

Still, it does. And for once, Dean wants to just accept this at face-value and not overthink it. Because it brought him luck. His baby-brother his here after all. He is actually really here. And that is more than he would have dared to wish for.

Chapter Text

Sam sits still, he looks like he is struggling for words. Dean knows that feeling well, but in opposition to him, Sam usually finds the right words eventually.

“When I got the call,” Sam’s voice sounds lost now, far away, “they said you wouldn’t make it. That I should hurry if I wanted to say my good-byes. It was – it was so horrible, Dean. The thought of losing you… of losing you and not even being there. Of not knowing who you are or what you do. I can’t do this anymore, Dean. I can’t be in Stanford and pretend that you do not exist. I just can’t. You’re my brother and I love you and I am here and I am not going away.”

His voice has gathered strength during his little speech and Dean is at a loss for words. The familiar guilt at making Sam feel bad wants to settle in, but this is Sam’s no-nonsense voice and even when he was five and in pre-school he got what he wanted when he used that voice.

“Are you sure?” is what Dean finally asks because that’s the only thing he can think of saying.

“I’m sure,” Sam answers.

It’s like a heavy rock that he has been carrying around for so long that he had forgotten it was there is suddenly gone. He almost starts laughing, but then it might also be almost crying.

“God, I was so sure you wouldn't come. I mean, after everything that’s happened between us. After everything that I've said and done, I thought, you know, that you were through with me for good. I, I tried to tell myself that it was for the best. That you’d have a better chance in life without me.”

“Oh Dean…”

“No,” Dean interrupts quickly. “No, it isn’t that bad. I mean, look at you. Stanford! Fiancée! You’re doing great, Sam. I’m so proud of you.”

And now it is Sam who looks like he might need a tissue. But instead he just stretches out his hand and takes Dean’s hand in his and squeezes it tight.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

Either they didn’t hear the knock or Cas just came in without knocking like Dean wanted to tell him that he could anyway. He’s already on the retreat by the time Dean looks up.

“Cas, wait!”

The doctor is turning around a little hesitantly, gaze drawn to where Sam’s and Dean’s hands are still clasped together.

A burst of warmth fills Dean’s heart, because yeah, it doesn’t mean anything, but there is a frown on Cas’ face as if he isn’t quite happy to see Dean holding hands with another guy. And if that isn’t good news, Dean doesn’t know. Then there’s also the fact that his two favorite people in the world are now together in one room with him.

“Cas, this is my little brother, Sam.” Dean puts a bit of emphasis on the brother part just in case. “Sam, this is Castiel, he’s…”

“Dr. Sexy,” comes a dry interruption from the other bed.

Balthazar. Of course. He is worse than Gabriel.

“Nope, he can’t be,” says Sam without missing a beat, “it’s not Dr. Sexy without the cowboy boots. Sorry, doc. It’s nothing personal.”

Dean groans as he lets himself fall back on his pillows and hides his face in his hands.

“Umm, I’m not sure I’m getting the reference?”

Castiel looks decidedly uncomfortable when Dean risks peeking through his fingers. Cas is also blushing furiously.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s nice to meet you, Castiel.”

Sam offers his hand and the doctor takes it. “Dr. Novak,” he corrects but then he sighs. “Sorry, automatic reaction. But I have a deal with Dean and you’re his family, so you’re practically family for me, too. So I guess Castiel is okay.”

Practically family for me, too? Dean’s eyes threaten to pop out of his head at that and Sam is staring at the doctor with an open mouth.

A low whistle from Balthazar breaks the tension, “That escalated fast.”

Castiel seems to be getting the implications of what he just said, too, and is blushing even deeper. Then he coughs and holds out a few brochures in front of him like a shield. “I didn’t want to bother you, I just wanted to bring you some brochures from a clinic not too far away. It’s a day clinic. I believe it might be what we were looking for. We can discuss it later.”

Castiel almost shoves the papers into Dean’s hands and when his fingers brush Dean’s he flinches away as if a snake bit him. It makes the warmth in Dean’s chest shrink into a ball of confusion. Another quick and flustered smile, and Cas bids a hasty retreat.

“Now that was weird,” comes the dry voice from the other bed.

“Oh shut it, Balti,” Dean growls at him. “You’re never awake when I want to talk, so you don’t get a say in my private affairs now.”

“Aren’t we a grumpy one today? Is it because Dr. Sexy left so fast?”

“Shut it, Balti!” Dean warns him again. But really, he is mostly confused and a little hurt. They have touched much more than this before. Admittedly, in a medical capacity mostly, but still, there was no need to recoil quite as openly. Especially not while Dean uses every little touch to daydream about – oh. Yeah. That might be where the problem lies, huh?

“Dean?”

Sam gives him a questioning look and he can feel his face flushing with embarrassment.

“Umm, don’t ask, please,” he begs him.

Sam raises an eyebrow, obviously drawing his own conclusions, and really, Dean shouldn’t have been surprised. If Gabe and Balti can both figure out his crush on the doctor within minutes, then surely so can Sam. He knows him better than anyone else after all.

Still, he thanks every angel in creation when the next word out Sam’s mouth is, “Clinic?”

“Yes, clinic.” It comes out in a rush of relieved breath.

Now that makes Sam look even more weirded out and he snatches the glossy papers from Dean. “It’s a rehab facility,” Sam recognizes after skimming the first few paragraphs.

“What else would it be?” Dean gives him a half-hearted smile.

“I dunno, you could have needed physical rehab after the accident or something…”

“Sammy, you can’t rehab a hole in a spleen. Thought a hot-shot lawyer-to-be like yourself would know basic medical facts like this.” It’s a weak attempt at a joke but it works.

“Jerk.”

That makes Dean smile so hard that he thinks he’s going to break his face. “Bitch.” And before he can catch himself, he already adds, “God, Sam, I’ve missed you.”

Sam is smiling broadly now, too, but he can’t resist teasing back, “No chick-flick moments, wasn’t it you who said that?”

“While we’re stuck in an episode of Dr. Sexy? Unlikely,” comes another comment from Balti.

“This is Balthazar by the way. I don’t think you’ve been officially introduced,” Dean gives in finally.

“I’ve figured it out in my dream. It’s all Gabriel’s fault. He started talking about this with you, right? He uses witchcraft to transform this hospital into a TV soap,” Balthazar states.

“Dude, can we hold off on the crazy while my brother is here?” Dean shakes his head.

“Is he on really strong pain meds or something?” asks Sam.

Balthazar just starts laughing and Dean can’t help but chuckle a little, too, “I wish. But no, I’m afraid he’s always like this.”

“I wouldn’t have to if Dr. Sexy gave me like, I don’t know, a slight bit of attention? Like a fraction of what you are getting? But I’m like Extra Number 3 in this episode and that way I’ll never get famous!”

“Who’s getting famous? Is it me?”

Dean groans even louder when he recognizes the voice. “I’m so sorry, Sam, you’re getting the whole madhouse in one fell swoop.”

“Oh come on, Dean-o! Don’t say you didn’t miss me at all!”

“He did,” nods Balthazar. “I did, too. Frikkin’ Demon-Meg is a pain in the butt if you pardon my language.”

Gabriel laughs. “Told you. And who are you, handsome?”

“Cut it out, Gabriel.”

Sam looks quite confused but he still holds out his hand for Gabe to take. “Hi, I’m Sam. I’m Dean’s brother.”

“You’re Dean’s brother? Uhh, interesting!”

“Gabe!” Dean is immediately alarmed.

But Gabriel doesn’t even turn back to him, just studies the whole 7 foot frame of Sam and has this slight twinkle in his eyes. “Do you know Dr. Sexy?”

Sam looks helplessly over to Dean, but Dean just can’t take it anymore. He pulls the blanket over his head.

It doesn’t do anything to muffle the sound of Balti’s next comment, though. “He's already met him.”

This can’t be happening. It just can’t.

“What did you think? No, wait, don’t answer that. Let’s go somewhere private for that.”

“Gabe!” Dean is too shocked to pretend he does not exist any longer. “Leave my brother alone!”

“Uh, Dean-o, don’t get upset. He’s your next of kin, I’m going to have to fill him in on your – progress,” Gabriel smirks.

“I’m warning you, Gabriel.”

But Gabriel just chuckles. “You can warn me all day long and you ain’t going to sway me one bit. Believe me, older brothers never know what’s good for them. So we gotta help.” He turns back to Sam. “You on board with this?”

Sam shrugs a little helplessly. “I guess?”

But that’s already enough for Gabriel and he takes Sam’s arm and starts dragging him out of the room. “See you later, bedridden folks!” He shouts cheerily.

“Sam!” Dean calls after his brother. They haven’t even talked that long. Who knows when Sam is leaving for Stanford again. He can’t just be dragged out by Gabe!

“Oh, don’t be wuss, Dean-o. Visiting hours are over anyway. And he’s going to be back tomorrow. You are going to be back tomorrow, right?” he asks Sam as an afterthought.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I am.”

Sam sends another helpless glance in Dean’s direction, but it’s already too late, he’s being dragged out of sight by Gabe very quickly.

“Yep, it’s Gabe. He’s the author and the instigator and the one who runs the show. He’s preparing the next episode just now,” is Balthazar's statement to what just happened.

“The next episode?” Dean is too exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the last few hours to even try to follow Balti’s train of thought.

“Yup,” Balti says gloomily. “I bet the next episode has kissing.” He sighs heavily. “Maybe it’s because I don’t have a brother. I’m just Extra Number 3. No one is helping my love life along.”

“Dude,” Dean doesn’t even know what to say.

But Balthazar is just waving him off and Dean is ready enough to let the topic drop.

They’re all getting excited about nothing anyway. He sees Castiel flinching away from him again. It’s not like his brand of crazy is contagious, you know. And it’s not like Dean doesn’t know what’s proper and where to stop. He isn’t going to start sexually harassing his doctor.

‘You’re practically family for me, too,’ the words echo in Dean’s ears and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

So instead he takes up the brochures that Sam had put back on his bed. He rifles through them to get the general gist of things first before reading them in detail. It makes him cringe a little, the way they try to word everything so nicely and neutrally. But the words aren’t too fancy and the glossy isn’t too bad. So it’s not just a place for rich bastards. It sounds like they know what they are talking about, too.

Dean sighs. If Cas trusts it, he trusts it. Maybe that’s not wise, but then, Cas is a doctor, so he knows what he’s talking about.

It’s time for dinner, when the door opens the next time. Dean expects Gabe or maybe Demon-Meg or the other nurse, but it is Cas who comes in with two trays. He places one on Balthazar’s nightstand and then comes over to Dean.

“Aren’t you paid too well to deliver food?” asks Dean to break the silence.

Cas looks at him a little sheepishly. “I was coming by to apologize. I thought I might as well do something to help while I was at it.”

“To apologize? What for?” Dean draws his brows together.

Cas with a few quick steps draws the curtain between the two beds and comes back around to Dean’s side. Dean is pretty sure that Cas is aware that the curtain doesn’t even muffle sound. But maybe it discourages a running commentary he thinks with a shrug.

“I was not being very professional this afternoon. That’s what I want to apologize for. I pride myself on being a very efficient and good doctor, who does not, you know…”

But Dean just shakes his head. He does not know. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to know. Because if Cas means to take back what he said about family, he doesn’t want to hear it. That happy little fantasy can sustain him for a while. “It’s alright,” he says instead.

“No, it’s not. I crossed a line and I shouldn’t have. That’s why I don’t like being on a first name basis with my patients. It muddles up things.”

Now there is a small ball of dread forming in Dean’s stomach. “Is that what you came for? Because you want me to call you Dr. Novak again?” He is proud that he doesn’t even stumble about the Dr. Novak.

“I – No, Dean,” Cas looks quite pained and with a sigh sits down heavily on the chair that is still as close to the bed as Sam was sitting. “I don’t go back on my promises. And you’ve done nothing wrong. So, no.”

Dean isn’t quite so sure about that last statement. He can’t really figure out what he did wrong, either, but it is always something. At the very least, he’s been having very inappropriate thoughts about his doctor. He isn’t a very professional patient, either.

“Have you looked at the clinic?” Castiel’s voice brings him back to the present.

“I have,” he confirms.

“And what do you think?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Dean sighs. “I – my mind is reeling today. What with my brother showing up and everything.”

“He’s very nice, your brother.”

“Have you seen him again?” Dean asks.

“Should I have seen him?” Castiel asks back confused.

Dean shrugs. “The last I saw of him, your brother was dragging him out of the room.”

“My bro…? Gabriel!” Castiel looks instantly ready for murder.

“You got any idea what he’s up to?”

“I…” Castiel’s eyes go a little darker. “I would rather not think about it.”

“I hear you, man,” Dean chuckles. But then he is serious again. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I was wondering,” his mouth is dry and it takes effort to find the courage he needs for the words, “I have noticed that – that the tremors have stopped. Or at least I think they have stopped. My muscles are still shaking every so often, but they’re kind of weak right now, after the week in bed and…” He notices that he went from tongue-tied to babbling and takes a deep breath. “I was wondering, does that mean that the withdrawal is over? The physical part I mean.”

Castiel goes entirely still for a moment. Then his face goes from the open and emotional expression that Dean is almost used to by now back to professional calm. “If you’re lucky, yes. You’ve been unconscious through the worst part of the withdrawal. The tremors are just aftershocks. So was the nightmare the other day. You might have that every so often for a while. Very vivid nightmares. Disorientation when waking up. Reactions akin to panic. It’s part of the brain detox.”

Dean nods, “I can deal with that. Though it was good to have you here. When I woke up. It helped.” That’s about what he’s willing to admit. Especially after the doctor made sure Dean knows what he thinks about ‘crossing the line’.

Castiel fidgets a little uncomfortably in his seat. “How often did you think about drinking today?”

“Umm,” the question is not surprising really, but it still hurts. He’d much rather talk about something nicer.

“It is important, Dean, try to remember. What did you think about?”

He thinks back to the long hours of the morning, stretching into a bland grey. That would have been enough for him to think about drinking, just the pure boredom of the day. But he didn’t really think about it, did he? He looks at Cas and the blue eyes are so serious now, so attentive, but he’s still patient. He doesn’t pressure, just encourages Dean with a slight smile.

“I’ve been thinking about Dr. Sexy a lot,” Dean says and rubs his neck embarrassedly. He hopes he isn’t blushing too badly.

“Dr. Sexy?” Cas startles.

“You should get your brother to show you the series,” Dean says. It is close enough to the truth that he was thinking about Dr. Sexy. It just wasn’t the one with the cowboy boots.

“Well, maybe I should.” The smile is back on Castiel’s face. “Alright. Want to try the way to the bathroom again while I’m here?”

“You’re the doctor,” Dean smiles. He’s already pressing the buttons to bring the bed up to its full upright position.

It’s easier this time. It still hurts. His legs are still shaking. He still has to lean into Cas to keep his balance. But then, he would have grabbed the opportunity to lean into Cas even if he didn’t have to. He is greedy like that.

“Alright,” Cas says after Dean is safely tucked back into bed. “I will go find Gabriel now. I think I need a few words with him.”

“Keep me updated? He’s got my brother hostage.”

Cas shakes his head, “Your brother is a moose, no way my brother can hold him hostage.”

“My brother is a gentle soul inside a moose body. Your brother is a trickster disguised as a nurse. They are not evenly matched.”

Cas laughs at that and he nods, “Alright, I’ll keep you updated.”

“And Cas?” Dean calls him back one last time. He holds up the brochures. “Get me enrolled if you can?”

Cas gives him a little smile for that, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

Even though he tries to stay awake and think everything through that has happened, Dean falls asleep the minute Cas is out of the room. All the excitement was too much. Too much to process. He feels like sleeping forever. But forever doesn’t last.

A bellowed “Rise and shine!” startles him awake and is followed by a cheerful, “Isn't it wonderful! What a great day it is, especially since I am the first thing you get to see this morning!”

Dean groans and hides his face in his pillows. “Gabe... please... We are in a hospital, why can't we sleep in?” he complains. He doesn’t even make the effort to lift his head to make his voice less muffled. It's useless to argue with Gabriel when he has already made up his mind.

And sure as hell, Gabe just starts mock-pitying him. “Awww, did your beauty sleep get interrupted? I’m so sorry,” but he can’t keep it up and starts laughing. “Alright, alright, I could let you sleep in, but come on, where is the fun in that? All that would happen is I’d be lonely and your breakfast would get cold and stale. Well, technically, it is cold already because you’re not getting the good stuff yet and,” Gabe sniffs the tray surreptitiously, “I’m guessing it can’t get much staler, but hey, here. Eat.”

Dean sighs and gives up. “You are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Oh, Dean-o, you poor man, you’re in for a world of hurt.” This time, it sounds like Gabriel is actually pitying him. “Because I only get up this early because my job requires it, but my brother actually is a morning person. The amount of things he gets done before 8 am is downright frightening. ”

Gabriel obviously knows how to get his attention, but Dean refuses to answer. It's way too early for anything. Especially too early to think about Cas and how the fact that he is a morning person will never actually get to annoy Dean. Even though he wants to be annoyed by it. Because he wants to see and have every part of him. Even before 8 am.

“Oh, Dean-o... don't be like that. He’s all grumpy again. Balthazar, you’re with me on this, aren't you?”

“Of course, Gabriel, I am always with you. Although, if you really want to know, I believe you could wake us somewhat more – gently. You know, a bit more like someone who actually cares about their patients’ feelings?” Balthazar teases and looks quite satisfied with himself when Gabriel pouts.

Gabriel sets down the food trays and dramatically puts both his hands over his heart. “The moment you think you can trust someone, they shoot you right in the chest.”

“Awww... did I hurt your feelings?” Balthazar replies and Dean grins and is glad that he has him on his side for once.

“Darling, you’d have to wake up at 4 am to be the first one who hurts my feelings. Demon-Meg already hit me hard by telling me that next week I’m on nightshifts.”

“I hope you won't keep us awake for your entertainment then, darling,” chuckles Balthazar.

“Hmm, I might not keep both of you awake for my entertainment, but…” Gabriel doesn’t finish the sentence and just waggles his eyebrows at Balthazar.

Balthazar, instead of replying something witty, just blushes and gives Gabriel a crooked smile, and whoa, did Dean miss something here? Because he suddenly feels like he is the third wheel. He chooses to ignore the two idjits and starts to eat his breakfast. To his surprise, it actually tastes okay and he realizes that he is hungry.

“Or don't you want to see me? Cause that would hurt my heart,” Gabriel says and drops his voice seductively low.

Dean finds it hard to focus on his breakfast. How can you ignore someone when they are talking in this voice in the same room? He wonders if Balti feels the same way when he is talking with Cas.

“I like to see you, but I still don't want to be woken up in the middle of the night,” Balthazar replies smoothly - and is Gabe looking a bit crest-fallen at this statement? Dean can’t do anything about his eye-brows rising. But the others aren’t noticing him anyway.

“I'll just watch you sleep then,” Gabe counters and Dean almost chokes on his food. Did he just hear that right? But nope, not even his coughing fit manages to get through to the other men. They are still looking at each other. Well, at the very least Dean is reasonably sure he has finally found something to divert the attention from him and Dr. Sexy. Damn. From him and Dr. Novak is what he meant to think.

“You know that that's creepy, right?”

Good answer, Dean thinks and wonders when he has started to comment on the conversation in his mind. He has an inkling now how it happens that Balti blurts out the weirdest shit at the most inopportune times.

“Oh, just admit it, you like the thought of me watching over you!” Gabe purrs and Dean allows himself a quick glance to the side. Jeez, he sees the appeal of a better insurance now. Single rooms have advantages.

“Maybe,” Balthazar admits and Dean is very careful when he takes another bite. No more choking. No more looking at the heart eyes that seem to be flying around everywhere, either.
‘I'm just eating my breakfast. I'm just eating my breakfast.’ He repeats it in his mind to distract himself. It doesn't work.

“Well, Sweetie, we will have to find out for sure, then.” Dean is certain that he hears the wink that Gabriel is giving Balthazar. Then Gabriel sighs, “But for now I have to deliver food to at least 10 other rooms. Because you got your food first. Which wasn’t all that efficient, because your room is at the far end of the corridor. But then, this way your tea is still hot. Though it does have the disadvantage that I can’t stay to chat. The things I do for my favorite patients....”

“Aww, thank you,” Balthazar laughs. ”Shall I tell you a secret in exchange for your pains? If I am your favorite patient, you are definitely my favorite nurse.”

Careful or not, Dean chokes again. Enough is enough. “Yeah, Gabe, don’t let that go to your head. Our other option is Demon-Meg, so it’s not that hard to be our favorite.”

Gabriel of course completely ignores him and just gives them a wide grin. “I know that you two love me. I am so glad. See you later!” With that and a wave, Gabriel is out of the door.

“He is one of a kind, isn't he?” Balthazar says.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he sure is.”

“So is his brother,” supplies Balti helpfully.

“Shut up! You heard the nurse, eat your breakfast.”

Balthazar chuckles. “Don't be so sensitive, Dean-o.”

“You're sensitive, you – asshat!” Dean replies, because that's the best he can come up with.

Now Balthazar is really laughing. “Ow! That hurts. Laughing hurts a lot.”

Dean decides to save his comment and finishes his breakfast. He’s a bit miffed at getting teased relentlessly when obviously he isn’t the only one who deserves to be teased here.

“Grumpy…” is what Balthazar mumbles around his food, but it’s low enough that Dean can pretend he hasn’t heard it. Grumpy? Yes, maybe he wants to be grumpy.

When he doesn’t answer, Balti gives up and they finish their breakfast in silence.

Afterwards, Dean just lies there and stares at the ceiling.

'Damn, I wish I had a drink right now.' In the same second he thinks it, he already feels guilty about it. Where did that come from? How long is he even awake? 20 minutes maybe and he is already thinking about alcohol. Awesome start to a new day, really awesome.

“Okay, Balti, you’re right, I was a bit of a prick, but it is really early and I’m not a morning person,” he says to distract himself. He’s pretty sure that thinking about his craving for alcohol won’t serve any other purpose right now than to make him crave alcohol even more.

“It's okay, Dean. We all have bad days,” Balthazar answers quickly and Dean turns his head to look at him.

“Didn’t seem like your day started all that bad,” he says with a relenting smile and Balti smiles back.

“Just wait until you see your Dr. Sexy. Your day will get better, too, then.”

A small laugh escapes his mouth. “Right up until the moment when you call him Dr. Sexy and he flees the room.”

Balti grins. “Sorry, was just trying to help.” And when Dean just raises his eye-brows at him, he puts his hand over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were a boy scout?” Dean laughs.

“Umm, nope. My housemate is, though. So I can swear on his honor.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Eh, details,” Balti snorts dismissively and Dean laughs again.

He feels better. Not good by any stretch of the imagination. But better. Talking seems to have helped. He has to remember that.

He closes his eyes for a minute again, he is still so tired and it is really early. That might be why Cas hasn't been here yet. Cas isn’t avoiding him, is he? They cleared shit up when he was here last time, right? I mean, not cleared up really, because Dean can’t for the life of him stop his thoughts, but at least they like – re-affirmed boundaries or something. That’s good enough for Cas, right? He won’t like give Dean’s case to someone else. Oh God, he can’t do that, right?

He opens his eyes again because keeping them closed suddenly feels like being forced into a jail. Which still might happen in real life. God, Cas can’t leave him alone with this. He can’t. Not after he promised him… Well, he promised him jack-shit. Dean promised something. That’s all. It’s not Cas’ fault that Dean desperately wants to cling to him. Which he can’t. He can’t cling to Cas or Bobby or Sam. It ain’t fair. It won’t work. But fuck it’s hard. Because he can taste the sultry aroma of whiskey on his tongue without a bottle being anywhere near. The first glass always makes it worse. All the pain, it just doubles and triples. That’s why you gotta be fast with the second and third glass. Because after that it gets better. After that, it’s your taste buds and you. The rest of the world can go to hell then.

Dean bites his tongue. Not good, not good, not good. Think of something else. Think of – blue eyes. Damn it. That’s not what he wants to think about, either. Not when he doesn’t even know whether he’s going to be seeing them again. Shouldn’t the doc have already been on his rounds? But no other doctor came by, either, so maybe that’s a good sign. Or maybe Cas is just avoiding their room. Or maybe Cas has found Sam yesterday. Maybe Sam told him – maybe Sam told him everything. All the shit Dean’s ever pulled. All the times Dean fell of the wagon. The one time on Thanksgiving, two years after his Dad had died, when he was so drunk, that he’d actually turned into his father. That he’d tried to beat Sam up. Dean shudders at the memory of it. Of course Sam had been in college already and taller than Dean, so he’d just wrestled Dean into an elbow lock and that had been that. But that was the day. The day Sam decided to go away and not come back.

Blue eyes, blue eyes, blue eyes. Slow breaths, slow, much slower, Dean commands himself and holds on to the blue eyes after all. Alright. That’s better. Okay. His head isn’t swimming quite as badly anymore. Okay. Steady now. Calm. Blue eyes. Alright. Panic attack avoided. Hopefully.

He hopes that Sam really comes back today. He can’t hold it against him if he doesn’t, but he’d really like to apologize for that night. Because he never has. And he should. Because that sucked and Dean should just have slept on a park bench instead of coming home. He’d tell Sam that. He doesn’t expect to be forgiven, but at least Sam should know that Dean knew that what he’d done was wrong. Yeah. He’d do that. That would be a start.

“Ah, I see my favorite patients have eaten - good!” Gabe announces and for once Dean is grateful for Gabe showing up and pulling him back to the present.

Gabriel collects Balthazar’s tray first, taking much more time than is strictly needed. They are chatting in hushed voices about something Dean can’t hear. Not that he cares to follow the conversation anyway, he is sure it’s all witty quips and sexual innuendos.

“Hey, you have eaten your whole breakfast! Excellent!” Gabe suddenly applauses right next to him. Literally. Dean turns his head and finds Gabriel hovering over him. “I think that means you don't need your infusion anymore.”

A mischievous grin spreads across Gabe’s face and Dean cringes. He remembers the adventure with the catheter all too well.

That’s why he isn’t prepared for what Gabe says next, “But of course Dr. Novak has to check it first. Wouldn’t want to make any mistakes, would we now?”

He gives Dean a wink, but Dean’s brain needs a moment to process. “Cas is coming back?”

A frown appears on Gabe’s face. “Why wouldn’t he be coming back?” Then he hits himself in the forehead. “Oh, duh! He told you that he got in trouble with Demon-Meg, didn’t he? Ah, don’t worry, Dean, it’s going to blow over. She doesn’t actually have anything on him. You were in pretty bad shape, you needed a lot of attention. The fact that she doesn’t like it will not make Cassie stop coming by. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dean replies, too stunned to even ask anything.

“Well, alrighty-right, that’s cleared up then. I’ll see you lot later!”

Gabe waves good-bye and he is almost out of the door when Dean shouts, “Wait!” Because none of this makes any sense. Cas is his doctor. He came in to check on him, right? Nothing else. Why would Meg not like that?

Gabe turns around. “What is it? Do you want a goodbye kiss, Dean-o? Cause I might or might not be that easy.”

“Why didn't you tell me that that was an option? He’s going to decline, but I on the other hand…” Balti interrupts and that’s pretty certainly a blush that spreads on Gabriel's face.

But that isn’t important now. Dean has to get Gabe’s attention back. So he clears his throat loudly before Gabe can come up with any reply to that. “What did you mean, Demon-Meg doesn’t actually have anything on him?”

Gabriel sighs. “Oh, Dean-o. The whole floor is gossiping about how often he is sneaking in here. That he’s doing shit that strictly speaking isn’t his job. Like keeping the police waiting for days. Like making phone calls to rehab centers. If you ask me, he’s just doing a good job at being a good doctor. Well, and he likes you, of course. But Meg, she’s more about wasting hospital resources and stuff. So yeah…” He trails of and shrugs a little sheepishly. “We’ll make sure he has a solid reason to come in here during his shift. He can always come by in his spare time, too.”

“I… I wouldn’t want to keep him here in his spare time,” and it’s not at all what Dean wants to say, but here he said it anyway.

“Oh, Dean-o,” Gabriel sighs again. Then he comes back into the room and doesn’t stop until he stands right in front of Dean. “Okay. This is my resolved face.” He points at his face that doesn’t even show a hint of a smile. “I don’t actually like my resolved face. It gives me a headache. So you better listen up really good cause I’m only going to say this once. My brother likes you. He wants to be here with you. He has to make sure he doesn’t endanger his position at the hospital but he’s good at his job. He knows how to do this. You don’t. So this is not your problem. Your problem is that you’re an alcoholic. Your problem is that you need to become a dry alcoholic. So you do your work and let Cassie care about his. Capisce?”

Dean ducks his head at the lecture and he nods. Gabe’s resolved face is frightening.

“Good.” Gabe nods empathically. “I’ll be on my way then. And you better not say anything stupid when my brother comes by.”

Not say anything stupid… Dean doubts that he can do that. It’s his specialty, after all. Even when he doesn’t know he’s doing it. Even when he tries to do everything right. God, he got Cas in trouble. That’s almost worse than Cas just not coming back. Because if Cas just noticed that Dean is bad news, well yeah, Dean is bad news. He can deal with that. But if something happens to Cas because of Dean… He grits his teeth because his eyes have started to burn in a very suspicious way and for the first time in days he wants to know where that bar around the corner actually is and whether they are open at 8 am. Because he’s pretty sure that the fifth whiskey is going to do the trick. Maybe the fourth, after a week without drinking… Oh God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to have that drink right now…

“So, Dean, do you think that Dr. Sexy is going to rekindle his affair with Nurse Rose? I mean, it’s kind of almost icky to think about it, because, you know, our doctor is our nurse’s brother, so ewww, but you know, Nurse Rose, kind of attractive. And Dr. Sexy and his marriage, ehh, not so hot these days”, Balthasar says and when Dean manages to rip his eyes away from the hole he stared into the wall and looks over at Balti, Balti gives him a knowing half-smile and a shrug.

Dean nods gratefully. Thinking about Dr. Sexy is a lot easier. Thinking about Dr. Sexy gives him the distraction he needs. “Rose is a bit boring, though, don’t you think? Dr. Sexy is used to all the baggage by now and can’t even deal with happy and normal anymore.” Dean’s proud when his voice doesn’t wobble. Not even at that last bit, which hits too close to home to be entirely comfortable.

“Hmm, you’re probably right. Someone who hasn’t tried to kill themselves is not his type,” Balti quips and his light tone keeps the sentence from sounding as horrible as it is.

“Well, at least those two haven’t tried to kill each other,” Dean deflects the topic to the other favorite couple, the one that doesn’t get under his skin quite as much.

Chapter Text

The pros and cons of each individual pairing on Dr. Sexy is a discussion that gets them through the next 30 minutes without a hitch, until a knock at the door disturbs them.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel’s dark voice greets him before he has even managed to turn his eyes to the door.

“Hi, Cas,” Dean answers, and even though he has to swallow around a lump in his throat again, he also can't help but smile.

Cas’ answering smile is warm, but his steps aren’t quite as energetic as usual when he comes over. He looks exhausted. From the fight with Demon-Meg? Guilt is pulling at Dean immediately.

“You look tired,” he says, because he can't help himself. He might not want to know whether it’s his fault but he needs to know all the same.

To his surprise, Castiel starts laughing, though. It’s the brightest moment of the day so far and Dean wants to capture it and look at it whenever he’s feeling down.

“Well, someone told me I should ask my brother to show me Dr. Sexy. Little did I know that Gabriel would force me to watch as much of the first season as possible in one go. Long story short, I slept at my brother’s. Only I didn’t sleep. Because every time I wanted to stop watching, he woke up and told me the next episode was the best so far and I had to watch it right this second. So I watched eight episodes in a row.”

Balti just snickers but Dean is excited. “And? What do you think?”

“I think that it is highly inaccurate. I mean, residency is exciting and yes, every so often someone sleeps with someone else. But everyone having this much emotional drama? And everyone pining after everyone else? And having sex with everyone else? How? Residency is exhausting without all of that. Where do they find the time and the energy? I mean, for real!”

Cas has worked himself into a bit of a state and Balti is outright laughing. Dean can’t really keep his smile from his face, either. “You like it,” he observes.

Cas has to take a deep breath before he continues and he looks a bit bashful when he says, “Yeah, I have to admit that it is kind of fun.”

“Oh awesome!” That comes from Balti. “You should sneak in a DVD player and Gabe’s collection and we’ll have a video night, just the four of us!”

“Balti!” Dean immediately admonishes.

“What?” Balti manages to look innocent.

“You’ve heard Gabe! Cas is in trouble because of me anyway. So don’t go spurting about impossible ideas.”

“Dean.”

It takes a moment to reign in the glare that Dean is directing at Balti and Cas actually has to pluck at Dean’s sleeve to get his attention.

“What, Cas? It’s true. I got you in trouble. I didn’t – I didn’t want that.” Suddenly the words just seem to die on his tongue. God, he’s bad at this.

Cas is watching him intensely and not saying anything else.

Dean shrugs helplessly. “What? What are you looking for?” But Cas still doesn’t answer and it’s enough to make the black wave crash over Dean. He averts his eyes. “Look all you want, Cas,” he mumbles. “You won’t find it. Whatever you’re looking for.” The cold knot in his stomach is back. “I’ve been broken for so long, I don’t even remember how it is to be whole.” He hasn’t said that one out loud to anyone yet. “You should run. I drag people down with me.” That, he never had to state out loud, because people keep telling him that right before they leave him. “You can’t know that yet. Because you’re a doctor and all, and usually you lift people up and make them better. But there’s nothing to make better here. I’ll just be trouble. It’s better for you to just turn away.” And it hurts, saying it, but he knows it’s true.

He expects Cas to walk away after that but he doesn’t. He just stays where he is.

“Oh, yeah, Gabe said you needed to check whether I need the IV still. I don’t. I kept my breakfast down. I drank my tea. And with a bit of help, I even made my way to the bathroom.”

He holds out the arm with the IV needle just in case. But Cas isn’t making a move towards it. Finally, Dean can’t take the uncertainty anymore and looks up at Cas after all.

Cas’ face is unreadable. “Remind me of our deal, Dean,” he asks quietly.

“I can call you Cas if I don’t hurt myself.”

“And?”

“And what?” Dean asks. “I ain’t ripping out the IV and going to find a drink, am I?”

Cas’ face becomes a little tighter, like what Dean says is hurting him. But he just shakes his head, “Can you tell me what you feel right now?”

“What? I’m alrig-,“ but he can’t even finish the word because suddenly he’s aware that it’s a lie. His mouth goes dry and his heart sinks. He focuses on his hands on the blanket. “I’m hurting,” he admits.

“Describe it for me,” Cas asks.

“A tight pull in my stomach,” Dean answers slowly. “And a hollow pain here,” he lays a hand over his heart.

Cas exhales slowly before he asks a little sadly, “Diagnose the cause for me, please.”

And Dean doesn’t want to. Because he knows the answer. He knows whose fault the pain is. Who put it there. “I hurt myself. I broke my promise,” he whispers finally.

There is no answer from Cas and Dean can’t bring himself to look up anymore. He knows when he has lost. Why, oh why, can’t he keep his goddamn mouth shut just once? Why couldn’t he listen to Gabe?

“Actions have consequences,” Cas states even more quietly.

He can’t look at him, he can’t see the disappointment in his eyes. So he just nods. There isn’t much he can do about it now, is there? The only thing left is to show Cas that he respects him. That he accepts the rules. “I know, Dr. Novak.”

There is no immediate reaction.

Dean’s knuckles are turning white, he has clenched them so hard into the blanket.

“That is good. It’s good that you know,” and Cas’ voice doesn’t even sound like his voice anymore, none of the open laughter that had been there a minute ago. Dean wishes so badly that he could have saved that moment in a jar to keep it. It was such a short moment. He’s going to need this moment so desperately to keep him afloat.

“I have no answer from the rehab center yet. I’ll let you know when there’s news. And I’ll tell Gabriel that he can take your IV out. You’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Dean mumbles, eyes still glued to the blanket.

There is movement then and Cas goes over to the other side of the room. “And how are you feeling this morning, Mr. Milton? Your surgeon told me you were healing well enough.”

“I was feeling good. Right until about five minutes ago. Dude, I mean, Dr. Novak,” Balthazar spits the name out like an insult, “that was completely uncalled for! Dean’s doing his best, you know. He’s trying so hard to do right. He’s doing everything you want of him, everything!”

“This is none of your business, Mr. Milton,” Castiel answers sternly.

“Like hell it isn’t! Dean’s my friend! And you’re playing God here and just deciding…”

“Stop!” Dean can’t take it anymore. “Stop, Balti, please. Stop defending me. Ca- Dr. Novak is right, okay? It’s not the first time I’ve been told that it’s not good for me. That I have to stop coming down on myself so hard. That I have to let go of the guilt. That it’s hurting me and that it’s hurting any chances I have at recovery.”

“So you do know that,” the doctor turns back to him.

“Of course I know that!” Dean exclaims desperately. “I just don’t know how! I don’t know how to let go. Don’t you think I would if I knew how? Don’t you think I want a life? A family? Don’t you think I –,“ but he stops himself and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “Maybe someday I’ll find the part of me that’s not broken. Maybe then I can be better. But until then: You are right, Dr. Novak. You are right and I will play by your rules.”

“You could start small,” Dr. Novak comes a tentative step back towards Dean’s bed. “Let’s go back a few minutes. Mr. Milton has just proposed a video night. Try again. What can you say?”

Dean is dumb-founded for a moment. He looks up at Ca- at Dr. Novak but finds only an encouraging nod. “I, umm. I’m not sure a video night wouldn’t get you in trouble…” he starts hesitantly.

The doctor comes another step closer. “When you say that, I’m hearing that you are worried about me. Is that true?”

Dean nods.

“Then I appreciate the sentiment. But why don’t you just ask me?”

“Umm,” Dean is at a loss in this conversation but Castiel is talking to him again and he’s not going to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. “Would a video night with us get you in trouble?”

A small smile spreads on Cas’ face. “Not when the video night is outside of my work hours. It would most definitely be considered unusual, but no, it would not get me in trouble as long as nothing – umm - unethical happens.”

Dean’s mouth hangs open and he has to shake his head because he thinks he might be dreaming all of this. “Are you saying, are you saying you’d consider a video night with us?” He would have to think about it later, whether the doctor was actually considering ‘unethical’ things, too.

“I’ll propose it to Gabriel. I have a feeling he’ll pounce on the opportunity.” Castiel allows his smile to widen and his voice is soft and lively again.

“For real?” Dean still can’t grasp it.

“For real, Dean,” Cas laughs. But then his face becomes serious again even though his voice stays warm. “I mean it, though. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep taking on the whole world. It doesn’t work. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

When Dean looks up into Cas’ eyes, they are warm but they aren’t soft. “This is your resolved face, huh?” he asks. Cas’ eyebrows rise but Dean just shakes his head, “Forget it. And yeah, I meant it, too. I’m going to play by the rules. I want to get better. And I want –,“ he almost says ‘I want you in my life’ but he can’t risk the tentative peace, so he settles for, “I want to call you Cas. So – I’ll try.”

“Alright,” Castiel nods. “Then we’re good with each other again. If you’re good with me again, that is?”

Dean just huffs at that. As if that’s even a question.

Castiel’s smile widens. “In that case, expect a very excited Gabriel in the near future.”

Chapter Text

“Tell me again, why we are watching this?” Dean asks for the maybe tenth time in the last half an hour.

“Because Spanish is a wonderful language? And it's the best telenovela you can get at this time of day,” Balti answers again.

“And with best you mean the only one we can get without cable, right?” Dean says.

That earns him a chuckle from the other man. “Probably.”

That's when Gabriel enters the room and stops in his tracks when he sees the TV turned on. “Why are you watching ‘La vida nos trae muchas sorpresas’ without me?! That is really unfair.”

“You know the full name of the telenovela?” Dean asks surprised and Gabe looks at him like this question is a personal offense to him.

“Of course I know it!” he replies and shakes his head in disbelief. “Don't tell me you didn't know it!”

“Come on, it's in Spanish! I don't even speak the language!” Dean defends himself.

“Okay, okay,” Gabriel amends and a big grin spreads across his face. “But if you start watching Dr. Sexy M.D. without me I'll never talk to you again!”

“We never would,” Balthazar appeases before adding a bashful, “Wouldn't be fun without you anyway.”

Again, Dean is pretty sure that he sees a blush on Gabe's face. Maybe this room is jinxed with a love spell or something. That would explain a lot.

“Aww. That is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me! Isn't he sweet? And also gorgeous?” Gabe asks Dean, who wishes a hole would open in the ground and swallow him.

Isn’t happening, though, so he’s forced to reply, “Whatever you say, Gabe.”

But Gabriel just sweeps his arms through the air dramatically before shouting, “So are we doing this? Are we really doing this? Oh, I can't believe it! Dr. Sexy movie night? It will be awesome! I will sneak in a DVD player and popcorn. A lot of popcorn! Because what is a movie night without popcorn? I mean, Cassie won’t like all the popcorn because he’ll just insist that it’s bad for my health but I love popcorn! I want popcorn! We definitely need to do this thing before my nightshifts start, though, so this weekend. Hmm, does Cassie have a day off this weekend? Cause, I mean, have you seen him today? The man obviously needs more sleep than I do. Can't even watch Season 1 in one night and it was only one episode to go! That says a lot, doesn't it?”

“Cas wasn't exaggerating when he said you would be excited,” Dean manages to throw in when it doesn’t seem like Gabriel is ever going to stop talking again.

But no, that isn’t enough to get Gabe back from his own world or even just to interrupt the babbling. “Well... I think I can unhook the DVD player at home and bring it and buy popcorn and find out how to get to the plug-ins on the TV in here and – what else did I want to do? Well, anyway, I can manage all of that by Saturday... so the day after tomorrow... Ha. Not sure Cassie is off on Sunday, though. He’d have mentioned it probably. I must ask him. But - on the plus side, I know for sure that Demon-Meg is attending a wedding this weekend and won’t be in. So that problem is taken care of. Ah, but what if the others tell her? They do tend to gossip. Not that I don’t – but that’s not the issue here. A cake! I’ll just bake them a cake and bribe them with it. Yes! Everyone loves my cakes! They will give us some peace in exchange for… ”

“Gabe!” Just one word from Balthazar and suddenly Gabriel stops, takes a deep breath and looks like he realizes that he isn’t alone in the room for the first time in five minutes.

An apologetic smile appears on Gabriel's face. “Oops. I believe I got a little carried away.”

“You’re just –enthusiastic. It fits you well,” Balti replies.

Dean has to look away to be able to pretend he didn’t see that Gabe is blushing yet again, even though he does his best to keep his answer nonchalant. He flutters his lashes and replies, “Thank you, Sweetie.” Then he sighs, “Well, pity I can’t kidnap you and go for a coffee right now, but I have a job to do, too.” He turns to Dean. “If you are ready, I will now free you from your IV and if you are nice to me, I will be extra gentle with the thrombosis injection since Cassie told me the Dr. Sexy thing was kind of your idea.”

It really, really wasn’t Dean’s idea, but he’s not about to correct Gabe when he has just promised to be gentle with a syringe. “I can almost believe that you’re a good person underneath it all,” Dean mumbles. He should be used to Gabriel by now, but sometimes he’s still a bit much.

“So you finally see how awesome I am? In fact, I am the only nurse on this station that can tell you that you have to lose over 50% of your hair before anyone can see that you are going bald.”

“I am stunned. That is something I really needed to know,” Dean answers sarcastically. And why is he in such a grumpy mood again? Does he have mood swings now?

He was quite okay after Cas left, because, you know, not necessarily the best conversation ever, but - still allowed to call Cas Cas. And a video night on top of that. He may or may not have daydreamed about watching Dr. Sexy with his Dr. Sexy during most of the telenovela. That had actually kind of made him happy. Of course, the cuddling that had featured prominently in his daydream wasn’t going to happen in real life. Not that Dean was into cuddling, he was a guy after all, but sometimes, sometimes it was nice to feel someone else’s warmth next to you. Someone you actually liked and trusted and wanted to be with. Not just a hook-up for the night. Someone you’d want to wake up next to every morning. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. Like anyone would ever feel that way about him.

“You might need to know this information eventually. People go bald, you know. Oh, Dean-o, what's the matter?” Gabriel asks while he puts on his gloves. “I thought Cassie was nice to you.”

Cas’ tight face when he had imposed the rules he’d set. Cas’ empty voice when telling him medical details while detaching himself from the situation.

“Nah, it’s just that - that I almost lost him,” Dean whispers and shudders before he can shake himself out of it. “It’s – it’s nothing. Your brother is a good guy, Gabe. And a good doctor, too.”

“Hear, hear,” Balti laughs.

“Shut it,” Dean grumbles.

Gabe looks serious and thoughtful but when he notices Dean watching him he wipes the look of his face and replaces it with his trademark wide smile. “You’re in deep, Dean-o, you’re in deep.”

“Head over heels, I’d say,” Balti adds.

“That’s none of your business, you two assclowns,” Dean growls, but he can’t make it sound serious.

He had forgotten how that feels. To fall head over heels for someone. He is helpless against the smile that spreads and betrays all his feelings to the two worst gossipmongers in the universe. But he can’t help it. He did fall head over heels for Cas and even though he can never admit it to him, he can be man enough to admit it to himself. He can rejoice in the knowledge that he has another week in the hospital at least and that he can see Cas every day during that time. He can be happy about little things. He can stomp down on the hope that wants to blossom whenever he catches blue eyes staring at him like there was something the doctor was puzzling out. Something that might be whether he had also fallen, had fallen for green eyes, that Dean is reasonably sure are not fanfiction green because that is not even a real color.

‘Thank you, God. If you’re there and if you can hear me, thank you for bringing him into my life. Even if it is only for a short time when I’d want to spend the rest of my life with him. Thank you for granting me this,’ he prays, short and sweet, because his Mama has taught him that you say thank you when good things happen in your life. And Cas is a good thing. He’s sure of that.

And even Gabe and Balti, I mean, look at them. They know he is a lost case and he knows it, but still, Balti said he was his friend and defended him, and Gabe told him that he likes him. He’s made new friends. In this place of all places. When he doesn’t even remember the last time he’s made a new friend. He’s grateful for them, too. He just has to figure out how to keep them in his life after he’s out of the hospital.

That thought dampens his spirits. Because fuck’s sake, he’s not good at the whole friendship thing. He isn’t even good at the whole family thing. No one around him seems to stick. And that thought hurts more than he wants to admit.

So he stops right there. Because he can’t hurt himself. He promised. And he is determined to keep Cas in his life for as long as he can. If it doesn’t go past the hospital doors, he’s going to be upset then. For now, he has a week. He’s going to make the most out of it.

“Well, he is my brother, so of course it’s my business,” Gabriel finally replies and steps to his side, “But I said it before and I will say it again. I ship it.”

***

They keep watching the telenovela for a bit after Gabe is gone. Not without blowing a kiss in Balti’s direction by the way. Dean may want to puke at the candy-sweetness of Gabriel’s flirting, but then he may sort of enjoy the blush on Balti’s face, too.

Unfortunately, he still doesn’t understand Spanish and since he’s resolved not to think any heavy thoughts, he does the only other thing he can think of: He lets his eyes drift close for a little early afternoon slumber.

The TV is off when he comes to. Balti is snoring softly, the telenovela apparently not enough to keep him awake, either. But his quiet snoring gets broken up by the staccato rhythm of fingers clicking on a keyboard. Dean remembers that sound.

He turns his head and there it is, the hunched form of his tall brother typing on a small notebook on a small visitor’s chair.

“Hey,” Dean says quietly, not wanting to startle him or wake Balti.

A few seconds of hectic clicking, the end of the sentence probably, then Sam looks up and smiles at him: “Hey, Dean. How are you?”

“Better,” Dean answers. “What are you doing?”

“Writing an email. To my professor, actually.”

“About your finals?”

Sam smiles. “No, Dean, about you actually.”

“About me?”

“Well,” Sam looks at him a little sheepishly as he explains, “I don’t have my license yet. So I can’t defend you. But my professor, he takes pro bono cases, you know. And it’s been a bit slow lately. And he kind of likes me. Cause, you know, I’m smart...” He trails off.

“Well, he’s damn right about that,” Dean says, because hell, he knows no one who’s even half as smart as his brother. “But you don’t have to do this, Sam. I got this card - it’s in the drawer in the nightstand somewhere,” he waves vaguely in that direction, “from the police woman. I can call them to get a state-assigned attorney.”

“Well, yeah, you could. But they won’t give a damn about you. My professor will.”

Dean chuckles drily. “No, he won’t.”

“He will if he gives the slightest damn about me,” Sam shrugs.

Dean just looks at his brother then. Really looks at him.

“What?” Sam says a little insecurely.

“You’re all grown up,” Dean states. Because he knows his brother but he also doesn’t know the confident young man who is sitting next to him and bullying his professor into taking on a pro bono case half a country away.

Sam just shrugs again. “It happens.”

Not to everyone it doesn’t, is what Dean wants to answer, because Bobby has proclaimed him to be behaving like a child just this week. But he doesn’t say it because he’s pretty sure it falls under the Cas-rule of not putting himself down. “Alright then,” he says instead. “You think your professor is going to take my case?”

Sam’s eyebrows rise. “Wow, that was easy. I expected more of a fight.”

It’s Dean’s turn to shrug, because honestly, he doesn’t have the best track record with letting people help him. “You obviously know what you’re doing and I’m out of my depth when it comes to the law. So yeah, your help is appreciated.”

Sam’s eyebrows rise even higher.

“Come on, Sammy, don’t look at me like I’ve grown an extra head!”

“It’s just, I don’t think that you’ve ever appreciated my help.”

Dean shakes his head unwillingly. “Of course I do. I might not deserve it, but I do appreciate it.”

“Dean…”

But Dean holds up his hand to stop him before he can say anything else. “On that note, I want to apologize. For, like, everything.” The words are harder to get out than he thought, but he fights his way through it. “Cause I don’t think I ever did. It’s a pretty long list, I know, so we won’t get through all of it today, but, there’s this one incident that I’ve been thinking about, and that I’m really… you know, the one that made you leave for good. When I was drunk enough to try to beat you up. That one. I really want to apologize for that.”

“Dean…”

“No, no, that was such a crappy move. You didn’t deserve that. I knew I was – channeling Dad. I should have just stayed on a park bench somewhere until I was sober enough to go home without starting a fight.”

For a long moment, Sam is quiet. Then he says, “I was glad you came home, Dean. I worried so much every time you didn’t. Thought I’d find you dead in a ditch somewhere. That’s why I left and didn’t come back. Not cause you tried to beat me up. But because I couldn’t just stay around and wait for you to kill yourself anymore.”

A heavy silence falls over the room after that. Is that still what Sam is doing? Waiting for Dean to kill himself? Cause this time, Dean almost managed. And still, Sam came.

“You did good. Leaving when you did,” Dean answers after a while. He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t even know what he feels about this.

Sam just nods. “Here,” he heaves a bag up from the floor onto the bed. “Thought you might like some clothes. Maybe they let you change into a shirt and underwear instead of the hospital gown if you ask them nicely. Brought some jeans and plaid, too, though I doubt you’ll get away with that before next week.”

“Where did you…?”

Sam gives him a crooked smile. “Still got your spare keys, remember?”

Oh. Yeah, that’s true, he gave Sam his spare keys. A long time ago.

“I checked your mail, too. The court order isn’t there yet. It’ll need a few days I guess. I’ll check back for it every so often. Didn’t look like you have any plants or cats or anything else that needs taking care of?”

He makes it a question, so Dean shakes his head. “Nah, no attachments apart from Baby.”

A pained look ghosts over Sam’s face. “Yeah. She doesn’t look good.”

“You saw her?” Dean sits up at that.

“Yeah, I’m staying at Bobby’s. He’s already got her from the police.”

“How bad is it?” Dean asks and already cringes.

The pain in Sam’s smile says it all.

“Shit,” Dean curses quietly.

“It’ll be alright. If anyone can repair her, it’s you and Bobby,” Sam tries to cheer him up.

Dean just nods darkly. Baby didn’t deserve this. Treating a lady like her with this little regard is a crime all by itself.

“Dean?” Sam interrupts his thoughts. “Umm, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Dean says though he isn’t really sure at all. But then, it’s been so long since he and Sam were close, if honesty can get him a bit closer to his brother, he’ll accept any curve ball that Sam throws at him.

Sam takes a deep breath and then rushes through the question as if he’s scared of it, “Dean, is there something going on between you and that doctor?”

“Yeah, I wish,” Dean huffs sarcastically.

“You wish? Like – for real?”

It’s only then that Dean remembers that Sam doesn’t actually know. Neither about Cas nor about Dean’s sexuality in general. Because for the longest time, Dean’s sexuality was random hook-ups in a bar. Didn’t really make a difference to him whether it was a guy or a girl. But that was none of Sam’s business. And no one had ever mattered enough to tell Sam about them specifically. Or to bring them home. And lately, that’s all dwindled down to nothing anyway, because the whiskey was more important than whatever pretty face was flirting with him. For some reason, they never stopped flirting with him, even when he was so disgusted by himself that he had no idea how they could stand being close to him. He is pretty sure that Cas would be different. Green eyes or no green eyes, Cas wouldn’t even look his way when he was drunk. Or he would, but there would be – not even disgust probably, but sadness and disappointment and then he’d walk away. Something clenches in Dean’s gut at the thought. He doesn’t want to see Cas walking away from him.

He’s obviously taken too long to answer, because Sam starts talking again. “Sorry I asked, I didn’t want to imply… but that nurse talked to me and he seemed to think… and that doctor was a bit weird when he said Hi… but it doesn’t mean that… I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions…”

“I’m not Dad, so stop that,” Dean interrupts him, harsher than probably necessary but Dean’s thoughts aren’t in a good place.

Then he just waits for Sam to realize that he has started to babble frantically in order to avoid getting in trouble. That had always been his solution to Dad’s unpredictable temper. It had never worked for Dean, who just got quieter the more upset he was. But Sam had weaseled his way out of more than one punishment this way.

Dean knows the moment Sam recognizes the pattern, because he laughs shakily and then sets his jaw and repeats his question. “So, you and the doctor?”

Dean runs his hand through his hair. He’s had all these thoughts about honesty and being closer to his brother again, but none of them took this topic into account. Never mind that he had kind of forgotten that Sam doesn’t know yet and was totally fine with thinking Sam knows. That’s different than stating it out loud and not knowing how much of Dad’s attitudes really got ingrained in Sam. Cause it’s all fine being in California and hugging trees or whatever it is that Sam does when he’s not studying, but when push comes to shove, you retreat to what you know. And Dad has instilled opinions about this kind of thing in them before they were even old enough to comprehend what the hell he was talking about. There have been times when Dean wasn’t even sure that he really liked guys or whether it was just his way of rebelling against their Dad. He was never able to rebel outright like Sam did frequently. Face to face with his Dad, he always tried to smooth things over. To keep the old man happy.

But if he had still had any qualms in regard to his bisexuality, Cas has pretty much closed that case. Because Cas is not rebellion. Cas is – Yeah, he isn’t quite sure he’s ready to admit the depth of his feelings for Cas out loud. Because they’re real enough as they are. If he admits them out loud how the hell is he ever going to come back from this?

But Sam is still looking at him, and goddammit, these puppy dog eyes are going to kill him. It’s not like he hasn’t lied to Sam before, even when he was looking at him like this. As far as Sam knows, Dean is a gruff mechanic. Not a dude who likes another dude. It wouldn’t be too hard, building that image back up.

But that also means lying whenever Sam is here and Cas comes by. It means pretending he doesn’t care one way or another whether Cas is here or not. It ain’t like he’s usually groping Cas when he’s in here or anything, but still, he has a feeling Cas is going to pick up on that immediately and won’t like it. Because lying is a big Nono in any program he’s ever been in. No lying about where you’re going, what you’re doing or who you are. Because it’s going to lead right back to the bottle, if you don’t have anyone who supports you for who you are. Now Dean has no idea how anyone can support him for who he is, but alright, maybe this step will only hurt a little. Sam is a bleeding-heart liberal after all.

So he finally grudgingly says, “There ain’t no me and the doctor. But I sure as hell wouldn’t say No if he asked.” That’s about the depth he’s going to admit to, though. Sam can take it or leave it.

Seems like he’s managed to make his brother speechless for once, though. Now that’s a thing that doesn’t happen every day.

“Have you… how long have you known?”

“About Cas?” Dean asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, jerk. About – you know, that you like dudes.”

“Don’t call me jerk, bitch.” But the ribbing is half-hearted, Dean is too focused on trying to read his brother’s reaction. It makes him nervous giving up any information about himself, and this one is kind of big. Sam’s opinion of him is low enough, it doesn’t need to get any lower. But he’s in this now and backing out makes no sense anymore. “Since I was 15.”

“But I thought you had girlfriends!” Sam accuses.

“Dude, of course I had girlfriends,” Dean says. “It’s not like I don’t like girls. I just like guys, too. But it was definitely easier bringing girls home. Try picturing what would have happened if I had brought a boyfriend home.” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice but it doesn’t really work. “Nah, I wasn’t going to risk that. And then later, no attachments but Baby.”

“Until the doctor,” Sam states matter-of-factly.

“Until the doctor,” Dean admits and he doesn’t even hesitate. Because yeah, definite attachment there. He doesn’t think he can bullshit his way around that.

“Jeez, Dean,” now it’s Sam who runs his hand through his hair, “why haven’t you ever told me? I mean, I come here, I think I know what to expect, but – I don’t know you at all, man.”

“Is that good or bad?” asks Dean, because honestly he can’t tell anymore.

“No, it’s good, Dean. Weird and confusing, but good. You’re – open. You talk. That’s – good.”

Dean cringes a little at that. But hey, “So you’re not freaked out? By the Cas thing I mean?”

“Umm, I’m a little freaked out by Gabriel. Can you tell me what it is that he has to ship so urgently? He keeps talking about that.”

Strangled laughter from the other bed makes them aware that Balti’s snoring has actually stopped a while ago.

“You want to add something to the conversation?” Dean asks slightly miffed. It’s impossible to have a single private conversation in this room.

“No,” Balti laughs, “no, I really don’t. Sorry. So sorry. Didn’t want to disturb the melodrama.”

“Did I hear my name?” Suddenly Gabriel’s head is poking around the corner of the door.

“Your name is melodrama?” Balti chuckles.

“Might as well be,” says Dean drily.

“Oh, Dean-o, and I was just being nice and bringing you more visitors! Found him wandering outside. I think he was going to buy you chocolates.” He turns back to talk to someone behind him, “Which would have been nice by the way. Even nicer, if you had given them to me. Dean-o is not so good with solid foods yet, he shouldn’t have that much sugar. By the way, did you know that cotton candy was co-invented by a dentist? That was a rad dentist, huh? Or did you know, that your beard is actually making you healthier? It prevents allergies, asthma attacks and rashes! It’s also awesome sun protection. And not as sticky as lotion. I hate lotion.”

Chapter Text

A perplexed looking Bobby makes his way into the room after Gabriel leaves with the shouted threat that he’s going to be back soon.

“Is that guy even for real?” Bobby asks with a shake of his head.

“He’ll show you his credentials if you ask,” Dean shrugs. “You’re probably going to end up with a hundred weird fun facts, though.”

“No, thank you very much, I’d rather not,” grumbles Bobby. “I came to see you, not to hear about my beard.”

“Good to see you then,” Dean answers and plasters a smile on his face. Because he is wrung out and he’s happy that Bobby is here, but he doesn’t need him to start asking about his feelings.

“Good to see my boys together,” Bobby replies and a warm smile is all over his face.

“Find yourself a seat, Bobby. I'm sure Balti will lend you his chair,” Dean says, because he doesn't want to comment on that. He already feels like he has bared his whole soul to Sam and it leaves him feeling more than a little itchy. Sam took it well, as far as Dean can tell, but still. He can't even remember when he was this honest with his brother the last time. Or with anyone else for that matter. Apart from Cas, maybe. He doesn’t think he has it in him to lie while those blue eyes are staring at him.

“You’re even going to take my chair now? Come on, it’s already obvious enough that I never get any visitors. And you’re going to make it even more obvious by stealing my chair?” Balti complains overdramatically.

Dean just snorts. “Hey, you have me, and your lover-boy Gabriel.” There. He did it.

But of course Balthazar is not impressed at all. “True. And I’m not ungrateful, but still...”

“Well, I don't know what is going on between you boys, but I'm still claiming that chair,” Bobby finally says and marches over to Balti’s bedside for it.

“I think I know where you’ve got your grumpiness from, Dean-o. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

Dean’s and Bobby's eyes meet and then they both half-smile, half-shrug. They might not be related but hell, they don't care if Balti thinks they are, because, yes, Bobby is kind of a father for him. Now more so than ever. So neither of them clears that up for Balthazar.

After Bobby finally sits down next to Sam he clears his throat. “I heard you were already looking into a clinic, son.”

Dean looks over to Sam who is beaming. “Sorry, Dean, I spilled the beans.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, though, he sounds – proud.

Now that gives Dean a weird feeling in his stomach. It isn’t too often that people are proud of him. “Don’t get overexcited yet. I don’t even know if I can get in. Cas – I mean, Dr. Novak is looking into it for me. He’s recommended the clinic. It sounds good and it's kind of between here and home,” Dean answers and only when Bobby raises his eyebrows does he catch on and amends, “your home, I mean.”

“No, it’s good, son. It’s your home, too. I am proud of you,” Bobby nods and there it is again, that word.

Proud.

Dean really doesn’t know what to do with that. He wants to shrink back from it because it can’t be true but Bobby is smiling and Sam is still beaming and somehow he doesn’t think they are lying. Though they should be, because really, what has he done that warrants being proud of him? He can almost hear his Dad snort and he has to make a conscious effort to push out the rest of this thought, because his Dad wouldn’t have stopped at snorting, he would have told him exactly what he thought of him. And the word proud would not have been a part of that rant.

Dean grits his teeth against the memory but when he sees how the smiles of his family start to falter, he makes the effort to smooth out his face and give them at least a small smile. “Well, I promised I’d try, didn’t I?” he says a little shyly and weirdly, that’s enough that the smiles come back.

“That’s all we ask for,” Bobby answers and changes the topic. “So, Sammy here has told you about the Impala?”

Dean cringes because of poor Baby, but he’s also kind of glad for the change of topic. Seems like his Dad and his past are close to the surface today and he isn’t sure how much more of that he can take before he’s going to break down completely.

“She don’t look any worse than the police described, so I figure that is something,” Bobby says and shrugs. “We’ll get her up and running again. It’ll just take some work. We’ll have to look around for the parts, too. Cause you’re going to want as many originals as possible, I gather.”

Dean shakes his head. “Too expensive. She’ll have to make do with what fits.”

“Ehh,” Bobby replies dismissively, “I know enough people who owe me a favor. I already called Rufus and asked him to keep an eye out for the stuff we need.”

Now that leaves Dean speechless. He knows that Bobby cares about him, and hell, Dean cares about Bobby, too, but that’s an extremely nice thing he’s doing for Dean here, and he has to know that Dean can’t pay for any of the parts, not when the last of his savings are going to go to the state to pay his fines and to the guy he hit and to the clinic to get back on track. It makes Dean feel itchy again and not good enough and why is everyone so nice to him when he clearly doesn’t deserve it?

“Oh. You have many visitors today. That’s nice.”

The voice shakes Dean out of his thoughts and he looks up into blue eyes and instead of making him feel worse, the warm smile is somehow grounding him and the feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin fades away.

“Cas,” he says softly and ignores Sam's rising eyebrows because he doesn’t need them to spell out that he’s in deep.

“Hello Dean. Sam,” Castiel greets them. His eyes land on Bobby and he nods. “Mr. Singer.”

“Call me Bobby, Dr. Novak. Or am I allowed to call you Cas now, too?” Bobby laughs.

Castiel sighs heavily but he doesn’t even pause, “The Winchester clan is going to kill my reputation in this hospital but yes, Mr. Singer, you may call me Cas, too. Though I do want to inform you, that my actual first name is Castiel. Dean is the one who invented Cas.”

Bobby stretches his hand out for Castiel to take and says, “It’s Bobby. And I’m glad you’re doing right by my son, Cas.”

Dean doesn’t really know how to take that and judging by Castiel’s carefully blank expression when he shakes Bobby’s hand, he doesn’t know, either, and is retreating to professional demeanor as much as he can. But there is one thing that Dean has gotten from this exchange. “So, you two have met before?”

Bobby just huffs. “Who do you think did I bully into letting me into the ICU?”

“I do not let myself be bullied,” Castiel protests. “But your step-father was nevertheless very convincing.”

There is an audible question mark on the word step-father and Bobby grumbles. “His father. For all practical purposes anyway.”

“That is so sweet. A family reunion!” Balti’s tone is on the verge of exasperated. “Sickeningly sweet, actually, when you’re the one who gets no visitors. So excuse me but it’s either this or me puking up my lunch.” He pushes the call button on the remote.

Castiel immediately tsks. “You’re calling my brother? Really?”

“What?” Balti defends. “It is a family reunion, right? So he shouldn’t be missing out on the fun. Also, in opposition to you lot, he actually appreciates me. And talks to me.”

“And blows you kisses,” Dean can’t stop himself from remarking.

Cas’ eyebrows shoot up at that and Balti sends Dean a warning glare.

“Dean-o, you should be careful who you’re throwing under the bus. I’m hearing a lot of things in this room that I might spill if I’m being pushed too far,” Balti threatens.

Dean glares right back at him but he doesn’t manage to come up with an appropriately menacing answer before Gabriel is already jogging around the corner.

“What’s up? Are you alright?” Gabe asks, eyes settling on Balti first and comprehending the rest of the room only a moment later. “Ohh,” he blushes slightly, “you’re all still here. And you are here, too,” he adds when he notices his brother. He tries to plaster on his usual wide smile but it looks fake as hell and Castiel’s eyebrows go up even higher.

“Cas,” Dean calls out gently, because as much as Gabe tends to annoy him, he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t deserve the lecture. When Cas doesn’t immediately react, Dean reaches out and softly tugs on Cas’ scrubs.

That gets Cas’ attention enough that he turns around.

“Cut him some slack, Cas? Just today?” he asks him with a pleading smile. “Because it’s a family reunion and stuff?”

“Hrmpf,” Cas huffs but his face softens and finally he shrugs. “Because it’s family reunion, then. Though I don’t see how it is relevant to Gabriel and me. You are aware that we see each other every day, right?”

“Not when it’s your day off,” Gabriel supplies helpfully. “By the way, when is your next day off? Because we didn’t want to overstrain you with the video night. Since you’re an old man and all that.”

Dean groans. That’s what he gets for his efforts to get Gabe out of trouble.

“Old man?” Cas asks clearly indignant. “I’m taking offence with that.”

“Complaint duly noted,” smirks Gabriel. “But for real, Cassie, when’s your next day off?”

“Monday,” is the curt answer.

“Oh darn,” Gabriel’s face falls. “I had hoped it would be Sunday so that we could have the video night on Saturday. Because I start nightshifts on Sunday. So that doesn’t work for me.”

“What’s wrong with Saturday?” asks Cas.

“Nothing really, I just thought you wouldn’t want to…”

But Cas doesn’t even let him finish. “How often do I have to tell you, Gabriel? Don’t assume. Just ask me. I am set in my ways, but I am not that set in my ways. Saturday is fine for me.”

Only when Bobby clears his throat, do the brothers seem to remember that they aren’t alone in the room. They are blushing simultaneously and Dean is tempted to attribute the word cute to that.

“Bobby, I think we should make our way home,” Sam says and he manages to keep the chuckle out of his voice, but only barely, “there are clearly discussions that need to be had that we are not a part of.”

“You don’t have to,” Cas starts.

But Sam just waves the comment aside, “It’s alright. I wanted to go by the police station anyway. See if I can wrangle the case file out of them for my professor. It’s worth the try. Here,” he holds the laptop out to Dean, “there’s no password set. Just open it and it should start up on its own.”

“What?” Dean croaks out startled even while his hands automatically reach for the notebook. “You can’t. That’s yours.”

“Yeah, but Bobby’s actually upgraded his computer system. So I have a working station there. I keep all my important files on the university’s system anyway. I can log in remotely.”

“Are you sure?” Dean says because a notebook would be really cool to have to pass the time but he doesn’t want to take away Sam’s stuff.

“Would I be giving it to you if I wasn’t sure?”

Sam sounds a little exasperated and Dean thinks it better to just accept without further protests. “Thanks, man,” he says and wonders whether anyone else notices how rough and close to tears his voice sounds.

“Don’t mention it. Come on, Bobby, let’s get out of here.” Sam waves at the others and Bobby nods at everyone and then they’re gone and the room falls silent for a moment.

“You have a very nice family,” Cas says finally. “They care a lot about you.”

Dean nods, because yeah, they do and he hasn’t been able to see it this clearly in a long time. But then, he hasn’t really been sober for this long in a very long time.

Gabriel has made his way to Balti’s bedside under the pretense of checking his vitals and is now perched on the side of his bed and talking animatedly but quietly.

Cas is shooting them a look, and Dean scrunches up his courage and asks, “Can you stay for a bit, too?”

“Are you alright?” Cas turns back to him, immediately worried.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” nods Dean. “Just – a little wrung out. It – it would be nice to talk to you for a bit.” Cause with all the emotional talk today, Dean has a feeling that he might be dropping into an abyss once he’s alone with his thoughts.

“Something bad happen with your brother?” Cas asks and Dean doesn’t know how he manages to zoom in on the problem on first try, but he guesses it’s a talent that doctors need to have.

“Nothing bad, just… I told him some stuff about me that he didn’t know.”

Dean watches Cas come around to the side of his bed where Bobby and Sam had been sitting, but he pushes the chairs out of the way and settles for the edge of Dean’s bed instead. He nods encouragingly and Dean swallows heavily. Cas would have to be blind for this to come as a surprise to him but still, it’s very personal and also very much related to everything that is or isn’t going on between them.

“He kinda asked, so I told him that ….” What Dean really wants to say is 'that I like you' but of course he can't. So instead he says, “That I sometimes, you know, like guys.” It is the most neutral way he can find to word this.

“He didn’t know?” Cas sounds honestly surprised at that. Okay, so he isn’t blind then.

“Nah. The opportunity to tell him just never arose,” Dean shrugs. “I didn’t want to make him lie for me while our Dad was still around. And later,” another shrug, “it just was never necessary.”

Cas processes this silently. Dean is pretty sure that Cas can figure out on his own that it means that there isn’t – and wasn’t – a committed relationship in Dean’s life.

“How did it make you feel to tell him?” Cas finally asks and it isn’t the question that Dean has expected. But then, it was probably pretty clear that Sam didn’t freak out badly, because he was still in the room when Cas came and he even gave Dean his laptop.

“Umm, I don’t know really,” Dean replies.

But Cas is just looking at him attentively and patiently waiting for an actual answer and that makes it hard for Dean because does he really not know or does he not want to think about it?

“I guess it was kind of, I don’t know, a little creepy? Like there were ants under my skin or something. Because, you know, once I’d spilled the beans, it was just out there and no way to take it back. Feels kind of scary.”

“Do you still feel that way?” Cas asks.

“No,” Dean shakes his head.

“What’s changed?”

‘You came in,’ is what Dean wants to say but he’s pretty sure that that is not an acceptable answer. “It didn’t go badly,” is what he says instead.

Cas gives him a little smile at this. “So you put yourself out there and showed your brother your true self and he still likes you?” he summarizes.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Dean smiles a little sheepishly because now that Cas puts it this way he sees where telling the truth about himself might not be so bad after all. “Cas?” he starts but then he stops again because Cas is his doctor, so he’s allowed to ask him personal questions. The other way around, not so much.

“What is it?” Cas asks.

Dean is still uncertain but then, Cas said not to assume, right? So he plunges on. “Are you okay? Because that argument with Gabe, that sounded like something that didn’t come up for the first time.”

Cas’ face closes up and Dean is sure that he’s overstepped his bounds but then Cas sends a glance over to where Gabe is still sitting on Balti’s bed, no pretense of working anymore at all, and exhales a long breath. “Yeah, it’s an old argument. Our family… Our family isn’t like yours, Dean. Gabriel, he’s always been the black sheep. The rebel. The one who said what he thinks, damn the consequences. Michael – that’s our oldest brother - threw a fit when he said he wanted to become a nurse. Told him he was going to cut him off if he did that.”

“And?” Dean prods gently when Castiel doesn’t go on.

“Gabriel packed his bags the same night. And I,” Cas looks at him and there is a spark of insecurity in his eyes that Dean has never seen before, “I’m not a rebel, Dean. I like clearly set rules and I like order. My profession of choice had found approval with Michael and pursuing it made me happy. So I’d just accepted everything else and never questioned it.”

“But after Gabe left, that changed?” Dean hazards.

“Yes. After Gabriel left, I couldn’t stop noticing it. The way Michael bullied all of us. The way he made everyone miserable. The way his believes shaped what we were allowed to feel and what not. It still took me a year to move out.” Cas sighs heavily. “Gabriel is right of course. I am set in my ways and I don’t like change. It is very predictable how I will react to anything. Which is why it is riling me up so much when he points it out.”

Dean has to resist the urge to touch Cas’ hand, to stroke his thumb over the soft skin and comfort him in the only way he knows. Instead, he says, “But you are a rebel, Cas. And a more badass one than Gabe, too. Cause he’s only rebelling against the outside world, while you also rebel against your own rules. I’ve seen you do it several times. Point in case,” and he points at himself.

Again, there is a moment where Dean thinks he’s pushed too hard, but then Cas chuckles softly, “Yes, I’ve noticed. You seem to have that effect on me.”

“See,” Dean says and wants to add ‘I’m not totally useless’ but he doesn’t. “Gabe isn’t right. He’s just jealous because you’re more badass than him.”

“I severely doubt that,” Cas laughs. “But thank you anyway.” Then he looks at his watch and sighs. “I’m sorry. But I’ve stayed longer than I strictly had time already. I need to go.”

“That’s alright, Cas. Thanks for staying and talking to me. It helped.” And that is most definitely not a lie, because Dean feels better. Like he was able to give back at least a little bit in exchange for everything that people did for him today.

“You’re very welcome, Dean,” Cas smiles and it is a phrase but it also rings true. “I’ll see you in the morning.” There is a short burst of warmth when Cas touches his hand for a second and then movement when he gets up. His voice changes from quiet warmth to efficiency again. “Gabriel! I’m sure I’m not the only one who has a job to do. So get your butt off that bed and work.”

“Spoilsport,” grumbles Balti.

But Gabe appeases him with a smile. “Ah, you should just make me a kept man and I’d never have to leave again,” he jokes.

“You wish!” laughs Balti. “You gotta pull your weight like the rest of us.”

“Says the one who won’t be pulling any weight for the next six weeks,” is Gabriel’s retort.

“Gabriel!” Cas resorts to his stern voice.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Gabriel pouts but then his smile is back. “I’m going to buy a gallon of popcorn after my shift! Only one more day to video night!”

Cas looks back at Dean for a moment and rolls his eyes in amusement at his brother’s antics and then he bodily pushes Gabriel out of the door. “We talked about bringing popcorn in, Gabriel! Now GO! We’ll see you tomorrow!”

Chapter Text

“Maybe I should poke him? How do you even wake someone gently? You at least woke up when I whispered into your ear, he didn’t even move.”

“It tickled! And it was not exactly what I was thinking about when I told you you should wake us more gently!”

Confused, Dean opens his eyes just to stare right into Gabriel’s face, which is hovering way too closely above him.

“What the hell, Gabe?” he bellows, scrambling to get some distance between them but Gabriel is already backing off.

“I was just waking you up gently and that is not an easy feat! I tried to whisper your name. I tried to make my words endearing. I even tried to wake you by humming the opening music of Dr. Sexy. It’s not my fault that you slept through all of that! So quit complaining. Nothing ever is good enough for you,” Gabe pouts.

“Just try harder next time,” Dean groans and pulls the blanket back over his head.

“You’re grumpy again? Well, guess what RISE AND SHINE!” Gabriel shouts the last three words while pulling at the blanket.

“Go easy on him, Gabe. He wanted to be woken by a kiss from his prince,” Balti chuckles and Dean rips the blanket from Gabriel’s hand to cover the blush that is rising to his cheeks before the words even make it into the conscious part of his brain. Did Balti spy on his dreams?

But Dean doesn’t need to worry about anyone noticing his blushing because there is zero attention on him.

“You wish that would have been an actual kiss, darling?” Gabe flirts and winks at Balthazar.

Dean is happy that he slept through that part of the morning. He can’t stomach Gabe and Balthazar sucking face before breakfast. Though it doesn’t sound like they actually did that. Surely Gabe has some sense of professional propriety, doesn’t he? Nah, probably he doesn’t.

“Maybe,” Balti answers with a lopsided grin on his face, the grin flirtier than anything Dean has seen from Balti so far. Flirty enough that Gabe is now very definitely blushing and Dean smirks. An embarrassed Gabriel is a sight worthy of remembrance.

“That smile should be forbidden,” grumbles Gabriel. “Especially in the morning when I have a schedule and Demon-Meg has it out for me. Dean, your breakfast is on your nightstand. I have to run but I'll be back for sure,” Gabriel winks again in the direction of Balti and waves to Dean before he is out of the door.

Dean decides not to comment on what has just happened. Maybe Balti was right and they both just fell into an episode of Dr. Sexy. At least Dean gets it now where that feeling is coming from. It's all Gabriel's fault.

They eat their breakfast in silence. Judging by Balti’s smile, he’s thinking about his own part in their Dr. Sexy episode and Dean isn’t sure he wants to know more about that. He has enough to do to cope with his own role.

Because fuck, believe it or not, but he didn’t have a nightmare. Not even a slightly bad dream. He didn’t dream about alcohol or accidents or blood, not about the fire that killed his mom, not about Sam’s disappointed face.

Instead, he dreamed that he was living in a small house. Nothing fancy, but it was clean and light was filtering in through the windows and there was a glass door. He had gone to the door and looked outside and there was a porch and a rocking chair, and a few feet of lawn. And then warm hands had wrapped around his waist and a dark voice had grumbled into his ear, ‘Lawn needs to be mowed.’ But instead of pushing him forward to make him spring into action, the hands had drawn him closer and pushed at him to turn around, and Dean had let himself be turned. There was a smile on the other man’s face, and Dean would have called it content if it wasn’t for the little spark in the depth of his eyes that Dean had trouble naming. And then the smile had turned wide and inviting and the laziness of the man’s movements had suddenly turned into purpose. ‘But maybe that can wait until later.’ Cas’ lips had already been on his before he found the name for the spark. Desire.

Dean felt that same spark coursing through his veins now, because goddamn his mind had made Cas into a good kisser before frikking Gabriel had given him a heart attack, startling him out of a dream like that.

But Dean pushes the spark down, because the desire is going to run rampant if left unchecked and he can’t have that. He can’t risk it. Because if this night proved anything, then it is how much Cas has gotten to Dean already. How much he can help with just a few words. Because Dean was sure that the abyss was lurking and then Cas was there and the abyss never came. He doesn’t trust that it would always be this way, but today he woke up from a dream of kissing Cas and his first desire was to do that in real life. Which means his first desire wasn’t to find a bottle of whiskey. Which is progress, he guesses. But it is also dangerous.

Because Dean wants to kiss Cas, but Cas doesn’t want to kiss Dean. And if he leaves this unchecked, if his desire builds, then one morning he will wake up and be so disappointed and frustrated that his desire will turn back towards the bottle of whiskey.

So no, he cannot do that. He cannot exchange an addiction for an illusion. Because Dean wants to get better. Yes, he wants it so that he can see Sam’s and Bobby’s proud faces more often and so that he can see Cas’ smile. But he also wants it, because he’s been sober for a week now and it’s been different than he remembers. The pain is there. The guilt is there. But there is also something else.

There are people that he likes. Who like him back. There is a connection to the world that he was missing. There is a glimpse of a future he could be having. It won’t be the one from the dream, with the house and the garden and a gorgeous doctor by his side, he isn’t lucky like that. But there might be a little place someday. A home that actually feels like a home. Sammy and his girlfriend, well, by then she will be his wife, might come by to visit. They might bring their kids. Because Dean makes an awesome turkey and a great pie and the kids love to spend Thanksgiving with their uncle.

‘Please, God, I need your help here,’ Dean prays silently. ‘I think I can do this, but I have a shitty track record. Please, God, help me find a way.’

A knock on the door forces him out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” Balthazar says and Dean is not sure, but is there excitement in his voice? Maybe Balti is expecting a visitor? But when the door opens, Balti’s hopeful face crumbles.

The young nurse who usually collects the food trays comes in, and behind her trails a stocky man in his forties.

“That’s Mr. Winchester,” the nurse says with a nod in Dean’s general direction. Then she starts collecting their breakfast trays, even before the man has nodded his thanks.

There is something stirring in Dean’s stomach, dread he thinks. Something is familiar about the man, but he can’t put his finger on it. Broad-shouldered, with a beard, a striped shirt and a sailor’s cap in the middle of Kansas, he looks out of place and at the same time he looks confident and centered, as if he’s able to make any place he comes to fit to him, so that he never has to change to fit in anywhere.

“Of course it's for you again,” Balti complains and picks up the newspaper Gabriel brought him.

“You are Dean Winchester?” the man asks and the voice is deep and Dean's heart drops into his stomach. There isn’t exactly a threat to the voice, but this can't be good.

“Yes, Sir. That’s me,” Dean falls back into the habits of his upbringing. There is something vaguely military about the guy. “I am sorry but I have no idea who you are.”

“Name’s Benny Lafitte,” the man answers.

Dean feels the blood draining out of his face. Because he can’t place the face, but he knows the name. He’s heard it the other day. The police-woman had told him. The man who’s car he has hit. 'This can't be happening,' he thinks and wants to run away but of course he can't and even if - hasn't he promised himself that he is done running and will face the consequences instead?

“By the look of you I assume you know who I am?” Benny Lafitte says and Dean just nods because his mouth feels too dry and he is worried that he won’t manage to croak out a single word.

“Look, I don't want you to freak out, okay? I am here to talk.” The man grabs a chair and sits down next to him.

There is something of a command in the sentence and it’s a tone he knows from his Dad. It grounds him enough that his voice comes back. “What... what do you want to talk about, Sir?” Dean stutters and notices only afterwards that he has addressed the guy in the same way he would have addressed his father.

Mr. Lafitte eyes him curiously for a few seconds, then he says, “Please call me Benny. Sir is my Dad. I am not that old yet.”

Dean nods, though the unease in his stomach intensifies at the mentioning of Dads. “Benny then. I’m Dean. But you know that.”

Benny smiles but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. There is something calculating in the scrutiny with which he observes Dean and it makes Dean want to fidget. But he knows better than that. If the guy is ex-military like his Dad, he will smell weakness a mile against the wind. So he keeps his posture as rigid as his injuries allow.

“Okay, Dean. There’s no need to be alarmed. I just wanted to see for myself. When the police told me your name... I just had to come.”

“I don't understand,” Dean replies confused. He is struggling because keeping his back straight is already starting to hurt and he is out of his depth here, like a fish on land, not knowing what to expect or how to even breathe and he wants to get this over with. Whatever this is. But there’s something the guy wants of him and seeing that he’s hit his car while he was drunk, it won’t be good. And why the hell does he feel like it’s his father in front of him and he’s going to get a beating in a second?

“Winchester. The name isn’t unfamiliar to me. Well, it’s been a while. Years. But it wouldn’t be a name I’d just forget. So I had to see for myself,” Benny answers and the answer isn't helpful.

“Stop talking in riddles and tell me what you want from me,” Dean snaps but then thinks better of it and adds, “please.”

The man still looks so calm and collected and it drives Dean even closer to the edge of panic. He wants to be alone again, doesn't want to see the face of the man he almost killed. It makes it so much more real. It is just luck they are both here right now, that Benny is still here and breathing and able to speak to Dean.

“Ah. I'm sorry, I should have been clearer. I knew your father. I knew John.”

Benny Lafitte. Suddenly it’s like the scales fall from his eyes and Dean remembers.

'That bastard Benny Lafitte knows nothing at all. Tells me to talk about my feelings, about Mary. Who is he to tell me what to do? Ten years younger and knows nothing. I should never have allowed him to become my sponsor.' The voice of his father rings in his ears.

“You... you were in a program with Dad, weren't you?” Dean says haltingly.

Benny nods. “Yes, that's right. I was. Though the old bugger never listened to me.”

Somehow, that makes Dean laugh, because, hell, he knows that feeling. His father never listened to anyone. Not to Bobby, not to the police and definitely not to his sons.

“I would be more than surprised if he had,” Dean answers, suddenly and inexplicably relaxed enough to lean back against his pillows.

“Look, I am here because I heard that the accident was a DUI,” Benny says.

There goes the moment of feeling more relaxed. Of course he knows that, the police have told him. Still, it hits Dean hard. He scrambles for something to say, anything at all. “Yeah, I – I’m sorry,” he finally says and it is lame and not enough but he doesn’t have any other words.

The calculating look is back in Benny’s eyes and Dean wants cringe and hide but yeah, he’s pretty sure now that Benny is ex-military and also he won’t. He won’t hide anymore.

“So, was that one time getting drunk or are you following John’s footsteps?”

Benny’s voice is still measured and calm even though Dean is frantically testing it for all possibilities. Benny should be angry at him, right? He should be yelling at him. Or judging him at least. But the question has no emotion, just that calculating feel that leaves Dean off balance. He doesn’t want to answer this. He doesn’t even want to think about this. But he almost killed this man.

“Guess I’m following his footsteps,” Dean mumbles grudgingly.

Again, Benny just observes Dean silently and Dean thinks he’s going to be torn apart if the pressure doesn’t get released.

“What the hell, man? What do you want?” he finally breaks. “You want me to say I’m sorry? I did. I am. Doesn’t change anything. You want to figure out how much money I have to know how much you can sue me for? I don’t have jack-shit. You can have the rest of it after the state’s done with me, I don’t care. But that doesn’t change anything, either. So what the fuck do you want?”

Dean’s yelling fairly loudly by the end, but Benny is unimpressed. “What would you do with the money if I didn’t sue you?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Benny’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, unperturbed.

“That’s none of your business, man,” Dean says but somehow he finds himself handing over the clinic pamphlets that are still on his nightstand anyway.

Benny seems a bit puzzled, which is about the most reaction Dean has gotten out of him so far, but then he looks at the pamphlets and nods. “That is a good clinic. I know the owner, Chuck, he is a good guy. Did the court order you to get into rehab?”

“What? No. Not yet anyway. Is it so unbelievable that I actually want to get better?” Dean is getting pissed. Yes, he almost killed this guy, but that doesn’t give him the right to snoop in Dean’s private affairs.

Benny weighs his head from side to side, a motion that can mean anything and nothing. Then he abruptly says. “John was a friend. Don’t get me wrong, he was fucked to all hell and back. He also was stubborn as a brick and he tried to draw me into a fight about every single time we met. But he was also proud of you.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean snorts because that doesn’t sound like his Dad at all.

“No, he was. You and Sam were the one good thing he had going for him. The only reason he tried at all.”

Dean fells sick at that. “So what you’re saying is we were a reason to try, but not a good enough reason to actually stay sober? The fact that Sammy had to switch schools every couple of months wasn’t a good enough reason? The fact that I had to steal Christmas presents for him wasn’t a good enough reason?” ‘The fact that I needed him wasn’t a good enough reason?’ But he doesn’t say that last one out loud.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m not defending him. What I’m saying is he tried. But he wanted to hurt. There wasn’t enough punishment in the world for him to make him feel less guilty about the fact that he’d survived that fire and your Mom had not. He chose that over everything else. I couldn’t stop him. No one could.

But Dean should have been able to stop him. That was his job, right? To make sure Dad was happy and Sam was okay. He can feel the tears prickle behind his eyes but he doesn’t want to give Benny the satisfaction and he swallows them down. “What difference does it make to you?” he asks instead and it sounds harsh and closed off and way too close to his Dad’s voice.

Benny narrows his eyes, the first time Dean is getting an emotional reaction and he isn’t sure that that’s good. Because if Benny decides to get angry, Dean isn’t really in any shape to defend himself.

“You aren’t the only one with a shitty Dad. My father was a drunk, too. And believe me, he was a bigger asshole than yours. Made me think I am a piece of garbage. Never considered rehab, either. Thought he was just fine the way he was. Your father at least tried. I can tell you that. He tried and he did it for you. I’m sorry that he wasn’t able to show it to you but it’s the truth.”

Guilt is pulling at Dean again because he’s spent so much time hating his father and Benny seems to be saying that he was wrong about him the whole time. Maybe with a little more help, with a little more pushing, his Dad would have made it.

“Look Dean, I’m not saying John did right by you. He didn’t. He let his guilt eat him up and that was wrong. What I am saying is, I fell into my father’s footsteps but in the end, I didn’t go down the same path he did. I fought my way out. I needed a lot of help. But I made it. And I think you can do the same.”

“I almost killed you,” Dean reminds him in case the guy has forgotten.

That makes Benny chuckle. “I’m aware. But Dean, when I asked John whether everything was okay, he always said yes. When I asked him whether he had been drinking, he said he hadn’t touched liquor in a week, even though his breath still reeked of alcohol. He’d never have admitted that he has a problem. Even when I was his sponsor he didn’t. For you, I’m a stranger. Easy to lie to a stranger. But you told me the truth anyway. You’re nothing like John.”

“Maybe I’m just not as good at acting,” but it’s a weak argument and Dean knows that it’s not the truth.

Benny knows it, too, and ignores it. “I think you stand a chance, Dean. So use your funds on this,” he hands the pamphlets back to Dean.

“What are you saying?” Because that sounds like Benny is not going to press charges against him and that can’t be true.

“I’m saying that I don’t want your money. I don’t need it. I’ve got a good life now. I wouldn’t have gotten here without help. Without people pushing me when I needed to be pushed and being kind to me when I needed support. So I’m giving back that help now. I’m being kind to you because I think you need help.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and fishes a card out of it. “Here. This is my card. I know I couldn’t help John, but I’m actually pretty good at the pushing part, too, when it comes down to it. You’re going to need a sponsor. I’d be glad to help out.”

“You don't need to do this.” But Dean takes the card nonetheless. His hand is shaking but this time he knows it has nothing to do with tremors and all with the riot inside his mind.

“I know. And believe me, if you choose to call me back, I won’t go easy on you. I don’t let things slide. I’ll kick your ass if it needs to be kicked. But I will be there for you. At any hour. Whenever the pull of the bottle gets too strong. I’ll always pick up the phone.”

Dean has no answer to this so he stays silent and just tries to keep the shaking in check.

“You think it over. But if you’re starting this path and you honestly mean to go through with it, then you’ll need any help you can get. Better get used to accepting it.”

This time Dean nods, because yeah, he’s figured as much. Doesn’t mean that he has to be happy about it, though.

“Alright then. I got to get to work. But it was good talking to you.”

Dean has to clear his throat first but he manages a “It was good talking to you, too.” And strangely, it isn’t even a lie even though his mind is reeling.

“Well, call me when you have made up your mind. Oh, and Chuck really is a good guy. He doesn’t look like much, but he knows his shit. Don’t underestimate him.” He nods his goodbye to Dean but narrows his eyes at Balthazar for a moment, as if he had forgotten that he and Dean haven’t been alone this whole time.

“Hey,” Balti immediately holds his hands up in defense, “I heard nothing. Or I heard everything, but you haven’t been here in the last few days. Your drama doesn’t top the overall Dr. Sexy drama. So no worries.”

Benny regards this information for a moment, then he shrugs. “Whatever you say. Stay clean, stay sober, have a good day!”

Chapter Text

“That dude is creepily put together,” comments Balti as soon as Benny’s back has disappeared and the door is closed. “I mean, does he even like have emotions?”

“Yeah, he does,” Dean says, more automatically to answer anything because his mind is still stuck on his Dad. Because one thing that Benny said is true, his Dad tried. It never stuck, but he tried and then he tried again. It was only in the very end that he gave up. In these last few months that Dean has tried to delete out of his memory because they make him sick every time he thinks about them. Dean had tried so hard, so fucking hard to keep it all together after Sam left for college. But it was like his Dad had just given up, the moment Sam was gone.

Hot tears try to find their way to the surface but Dean bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood to stop them.

Dean alone was never enough. His Dad would try as long as Sam was around. He’d shout at him and Sam would shout back and Dean couldn’t make a high enough mountain of burgers to make up for the fights in their home, but Dad always came back and he always tried again. Then Sam went to California and suddenly Dad didn’t come back after getting drunk.

Dean spent most of these last few months frantically searching for Dad, trying to pull him back from the brink whenever he found him. But someone had to pay the bills. Dean couldn’t give up his job. And Dad managed to slip away again, every time. Sometimes before he was even completely sobered up. All he left behind was a bathroom smelling of puke. And then winter came. And Dean didn’t find Dad. The police found him. But only after he was already frozen stiff.

The tears do spill over now, because goddammit Dean should have found him earlier. Or he should have stopped working and guarded his Dad 24/7. Something. Anything. He should have stopped him and he couldn’t.

“Dean?” asks a dark voice next to him and fuck how has Cas gotten here?

He must look as wrecked as he feels because Cas asks him, “Do you need something to calm down? I can give you something light. It’ll make you sleepy, nothing else.”

But he shakes his head because meds are not what he wants. What he wants is – for all of this stop, somehow. And now he is sobbing and that sucks because he doesn’t cry, fuck it all he doesn’t cry and most definitely not in front of others.

“Alright, no meds. What can I do instead?”

And suddenly his hands are fisted in Cas’ scrubs and he holds on for dear life because he’s killed his Dad and he can’t live with that, never could, and the pain is so acute that he wants to die but he doesn’t want to die because then he’s never going to see Cas again or his brother and he doesn’t want that, either.

After a moment’s hesitation, strong arms close around his back. “It’s alright, Dean. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. Because my Dad is dead and I couldn’t save him.” It comes out broken and in pieces but he thinks that Cas understands because he presses closer and that feels good, safe, so he buries his head in Cas’ shoulder. “He left me. He stuck around for Sammy but then Sammy was gone and Dad just left and he drank and I tried to find him but I couldn’t. I searched for him and I didn’t find him and he drunk himself into a stupor and he froze to death on a park bench. I should have been there, I should have saved him.”

He doesn’t know why he’s telling Cas all this shit, he hasn’t even told Sam, not in any detail anyway, but Cas doesn’t comment, he just rubs his back in soothing circles. “It’s going to be alright, Dean. I promise. It doesn’t feel like it now, but this pain will go away.”

Dean wants to protest, wants to say that the pain can never stop because his father is dead and there is no way to bring him back but Cas keeps talking and Dean doesn’t have the strength to protest anyway.

“Just listen to my voice, Dean, okay? Just listen to it and try to breathe. That’s all you have to do. Breathe. In and out. That’s all you have to do to get through this moment. And then the next one after that. And the next. Can you do that for me? Can you breathe for me, Dean?”

Dean wants to shake his head no because he doesn’t think he can do anything right now but somehow his body doesn’t comply and he nods instead. Maybe it is because Cas’ mouth is so close to Dean’s ear that he can feel the warmth of his breath when he talks and Dean can focus on that better than on the words.

“Alright. That’s good, Dean. That’s very good. You’re doing so well. Just keep breathing.”

Cas shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be praising him when Dean is falling apart, but he soaks the praise up anyway, because he is weak and selfish and wants to hear that he’s doing well.

“That’s good. Focus on me. Focus on my voice. Very good. You’re having a panic attack, that is all. Your body is flooded with adrenaline. If you just keep breathing, it’ll settle down. You can think about everything then, when you feel better. But you can do something else for me right now, Dean. Can you feel into your body for me? Feel where the blanket is on your legs. Feel where the shirt touches your shoulders. Feel where my arms hold you. Just come back to this moment with me. Because you are safe, Dean. Nothing bad is going to happen here. Just let your body feel that you are safe.”

It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t be true. But Dean feels Cas’ arms around him and he feels where his tears have soaked into Cas’ shirt and he feels warm and safe and slowly, ever so slowly his body relaxes.

After a minute, the sobbing subsides. Another minute, and he can feel where his hands are cramped into Cas’ scrubs. Yet another minute, and he has regained enough control that he can open his fingers and release the fabric. After that, he could probably straighten away from Cas. He’s pretty sure he could sit up and not fall over. But his willpower is not up to par with his body and so he stays where he is, and Cas lets him until Dean’s breathing is completely back to normal.

Only then does Cas straighten away from him. When Dean doesn’t look up because he can’t meet Cas’ eyes, the shame about his weakness suddenly overcoming him at the loss of Cas’ warmth, there’s a light touch on his shoulder. “Dean? Are you with me? Look at me, please.” And when he does, there’s compassion in Cas’ eyes but also strength. “You are not weak, Dean, and you are not at fault. What happened to your father was not your fault. You couldn’t have saved him. He had to save himself. All you could do was offer him help. And you did that. You went looking for him. You did everything you could.”

Dean isn’t quite so sure about this, but he’s exhausted. So he decides to just hold on to the words for now and not contest them.

“Do you think you can sleep for a little while?” Cas asks him. “Some rest would do a world of good.”

Dean shakes his head, he doesn’t think he can.

“It’s alright,” comes Balti’s voice from the other side of the room. “I’ll keep him company. We’ll talk about Dr. Sexy until this has passed.”

Cas looks at Dean again, silently asking whether that’s okay for him, and Dean nods. “It’s alright. You go. And sorry about -,” he gestures towards the mess he’s made of Cas’ shirt by crying into it.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll check in on you later, alright? And you know where the call button is, in case something happens.”

“Thank you,” Dean says and thinks that lately he has a lot of stuff that he has to make up for because people keep helping him out, and he has no idea how to repay them.

“Did you call him?” Dean asks when Cas is gone.

“Yes,” Balti admits. “Didn’t know what else to do. Hope that was alright.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, exhaustion now settling deep into his bones. “Thank you.”

“You get this often? Panic attacks like this?”

“I -,” but then he notices that he actually doesn’t know. “I have no idea. I’m usually not sober long enough to try it out.” The confession is easier than it would have been even a day ago.

“That’s what got you into this mess in the first place, huh?” Balti inquires.

Dean is tempted to tell him to shove his insights where the sun doesn’t shine, but then, Balti is not wrong. Dean had been broken before his Dad died, but he hadn’t been this. “Didn’t you want to talk about Dr. Sexy?” he asks instead, voice gruff but only in a ‘I need a change of topic’ way.

“Your Dr. Sexy or Dr. Sexy the show?”

“Dude, I’ve got no patience for this today.”

Balti chuckles slightly. “Alright, the show it is then. Although Gabe told me, that there has actually been an incident in this hospital, where the surgeons went to get an organ for a transplant from Chicago and…”

Dean lets Balthazar’s voice wash over him, smiling and nodding at the places that seem to require input but otherwise content to let Balti do all the talking.

He notices dimly that his eyes are slipping shut and then white noise fills his ears and Balti’s story is drowned out.

Chapter Text

When Dean wakes up again he feels better. Like he actually rested and it took away a part of the pain. He turns to Balti who is watching some show on TV.

“Have I said thank you yet?” Dean asks.

Balti looks over to him and smiles. “Yes, you have. But it wasn’t actually necessary.”

“Thank you, nevertheless,” Dean says and adds without waiting for a reply, “What are we watching?”

Balthazar laughs. “Clearly not Dr. Sexy M.D. because Gabe would kill us. It's Law and Distraction.”

“Good enough for me,” Dean shrugs. They watch silently for a while, but it’s not Dean’s favorite show. He looks over at Balti who has started doing the crossword puzzle in his newspaper. “Need help there?”

“Small coins of ancient Greece, 5 letters.”

“No idea.”

“Yeah, me either. I wish they would ask for fun facts instead.”

That makes Dean laugh. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we know all of those by now.”

“Never. He’s got an endless supply. But hey, you’ve got a laptop now. You could find your own fun facts and surprise him with them.”

“You want to look some up?” Dean offers. “Because I’m reasonably sure that it’s you who wants to impress Gabe, not me.”

“Did you know that he’s the messenger of God?”

“Gabe?”

“Well, no, not our Gabe. I think, anyway. Cause that would be a fucking weird messenger of God. No, I meant the archangel he was named after.”

“He was named after an archangel?”

“Dude, do you and Cas not talk to each other or something? I thought talking about the meanings of names was always high on the list.”

“Why the hell would we do that?”

“Oh, come on, Dean, the ‘you are an angel fallen to Earth for me’ line has never fallen? When it is so convenient?”

“Castiel is also an angel,” Dean deducts.

Balti starts laughing. “Again, I’m not sure about our version. But yes, in principle, also an angel, and depending on which lore you read sometimes even an archangel.”

“What does he do? If Gabe is the one running around delivering mail for God, is Cas the one baking his pies?”

“Dean, stop it, I’m not supposed to laugh. Ow!” Balti takes a few deep breaths, before he finally goes on. “No, no, I have no idea who is baking God’s pies. Castiel it is not. Castiel is just watching. Really, that’s pretty much all he does. All the other angels are meddling and scheming and interfering with the humans, Castiel just watches. So they call him the angel of solitude and tears.”

Sounds unfair to Dean. “Since when is not meddling a bad thing?”

“It is for angels I guess. They’re supposed to do God’s work and all that. Not just sit on a bench and watch humanity.”

Dean shakes his head. “Cas observes and thinks before he does stuff. That’s a good thing.”

Balti smirks at that. “You should add usually. He thinks stuff through usually. Unless you’re in his vicinity. Then all the nice logic and calm composure flies right out of the window.”

Dean glares at him.

“No, honestly Dean, I don’t mean this as an insult. Our dear Cassie’s behavior around you puzzles the hell out of Gabe. And I get a feeling that not many things puzzle him.”

“So, you and Gabe? Any messages from God yet?” Dean asks to shift the attention away from himself and Cas. He really doesn’t want to analyze Cas’ motives for rebelling against his usual rules for him. He is too unsure which conclusions he’d come up with and how to react to them. He’d rather have him the way it is and not overthink it till it all falls apart.

“Unless God sends the message that we need to triple our annual candy production to get to heaven, no, no messages from God.”

“That isn’t exactly what I asked.”

“I know, but it’s none of your business,” Balti replies somewhat smugly.

“Not sure about that one,” Dean says.

“Hmm?”

Dean rubs at his neck, a nervous gesture that he can’t shed, even though he’s pretty sure Balti won’t make fun of him for this. “You told Cas you were my friend. Friends look out for each other. So, yeah, makes it sort of my business.”

“I’m not as pathetic as you think right now,” Balti answers. “I know how it looks like. No visitors. Leeching of your family time and drama for my entertainment. But it ain’t like that.”

“I believe you, man, nothing in this room is normal,” Dean says. “It’s under a spell. It changes everything upside down. I have no friends and no contact with my family in real life, and look at me here. Almost makes me not want to leave. Upside down, I tell you.”

“You sure the not leaving part has nothing to do with Dr. Sexy?”

“So you’d want to leave Gabe behind?”

“I would exchange phone numbers,” Balti states matter-of-factly.

“Yeah. You got it easier than me, dude.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because – everything.” Dean has no idea how to start explaining that if Balti doesn’t see it.

“Dean, sorry to say it, but you’re a moron. If you don’t see that Cas likes you, you’re a hopeless case.”

A hopeless case. Balti doesn’t mean the words the way Dean hears them, but yeah. “See. That’s where the problem is.”

“Oh Dean,” Balti sighs but he doesn’t get to come up with a more elaborate answer because there’s a knock on the door. “Yes, please come in, dear visitor for Dean.”

“This is room 401, isn't it?”

Dean can’t even really see the small Asian kid behind the big bouquet of flowers. He knows that he has no idea who that is, though.

“KEVIN!” shouts Balthazar loud enough that Dean thinks the other end of the hallway can probably hear it, too. So that’s that question answered. It is a visitor for Balti after all.

“This is room 401 then,” comes the answer.

“And here I thought you’d never come! I was just explaining to Dean how I’m not as friendless as he thinks I am,” Balthazar is beaming.

He gets a shrug from his visitor for that. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me. What with what happened and all… Here, I brought you flowers. The florist girl said a mixed bouquet of roses was good for apologies. But I couldn’t afford them. So you get mixed everything. Because I am sorry.”

Balthazar takes the flowers and plops them in his water glass. “And you should be. Because I can’t move. So that sucks. But then, you have no idea how interesting this hospital is! I’m going to get a whole movie out of this. Dean, I’m going to need my chair back.”

“A movie?” Dean says, suspicious.

“What? I’m a writer, didn’t I tell you? A screenwriter to be exact. Did I tell you that I worked on Titanic? Well, I didn’t write the script exactly, and to tell you the truth, I thought the movie sucked, but hey…”

“You’re going to write about this?” Dean is speechless.

“Oh, Dean-o, don’t sweat it. I’ll make you a lot prettier. People will never know it was you.”

“You fucking asshole,” Dean groans.

“Don’t cuss in front of my underage visitor! Dean, this is Kevin. Kevin, get your chair.”

“Hi Kevin. Nice to meet you,” Dean says obligingly. And because the kid is not only underage but clearly still in high school, he adds, “Aren’t you a bit young to hang out with the likes of Balthazar?”

“He has no friends here, so I take pity on him,” Kevin shrugs.

“I moved to this godforsaken town for you, Kevin! So you better hang out with me!”

“He doesn’t mean it like it sounded. Gross, Balthazar,” answers Kevin.

“Oh, duh,” Balti rolls his eyes but he still turns to Dean to explain. “Kevin does the translations for my new script. So he works for me. And he lives with me. Or I live with him. Well, okay, I need to work on my wording because that sounded different in my head, too. It’s not like that. I rent a room from his Mom. Because that’s the only way she’ll let me employ Kev. And I need Kev. No one can do what he does. But if you think Demon-Meg is intimidating, you have never met his Mom. Because his Mom would win that fight hands down. So be nice to Kevin or she’ll come here and kill us both.”

“You’re babbling,” Kevin interrupts Balti. “You told me to tell you when you’re getting overexcited and start babbling.”

“Yes, I did. But I meant that you should stop me before I say weird shit to your Mom. She scares me. Dean doesn’t.”

“Thanks, man, nice to know what impression I made on you,” Dean says ironically.

“No, Dean, you don’t understand. Mama Tran is a Tiger-Mom. When she sees a fuck-up like you or me, she’s going to improve us. Whether we want it or not.” Balti shudders. “Never quite managed to figure out why she allowed me to stay in the first place, seeing how vile she thinks I am.”

“Because you’re tall and can reach the upper shelves. Also, she thought you’d be good at cleaning out the rain gutters,” Kevin replies amiably.

Balti glares. “Well, obviously I’m not.”

“Yeah, she said that, too.”

That gets a growl as response. “Did I tell you how I fell off the roof, Dean?”

“No, you didn’t,” Dean says carefully. He has no idea whether the dynamic in the room is actually as volatile as it seems.

“Team effort by two morons. I was being good and helping out Mama Tran by cleaning out the rain gutter – a very manly undertaking if you ask me - when Kev left the door open and Dax – that’s my cat - walked straight out onto the street, completely unaware of the fact that the neighbor’s kid is an idiot who just got his license last week and was speeding around the block. I had to do something!”

“You could have used the ladder instead of jumping off the roof,” Kevin suggests.

“I did not – I slipped!” Balti protests.

“Yeah, you aren’t very coordinated,” says Kevin.

“I don’t need to be, I’m a writer!” exclaims Balti.

“Yeah, can we come back to that point,” Dean interrupts.

“What? My pain is not important to you?”

“No, it isn’t. Not if you’re planning to pitch our hospital stay as an episode to the producers of Dr. Sexy M.D.”

“Nah, this is way better than an episode of Dr. Sexy. This is a whole movie, I tell you.”

“It’s my life!” Dean exclaims exasperatedly. Balti can’t actually mean this.

“Yes, it is. And mine. But we’re all stories in the end,” Balti says with a smile that is way too perky to be real.

“You said we were friends. And now you’re telling me you’re using me for a movie script?”

“I’m not using you, Dean! I’m merely observing and drawing on reality for inspiration. It’s what writers do.”

“I keep telling you, you should go out of the house more,” Kevin inserts himself into the conversation. “You’d be more inspired. And you’d be out of my hair.”

“Oh, you’re just pissed because you have no screen presence whatsoever and will never be the hero in my movies.”

“As if I wanted to be in your movies,” Kevin shakes his head and turns to Dean. “He’s making an Anime-Horror-Mythology crossover. He calls it art. I call it confusing.”

“I seem to remember you calling it a piece of shit,” Balti says dryly.

“Well, yeah, that too. Also, you had changed your opinion about how you wanted the devil scene to go five times that day! I got fed up!”

“Come on, you like to translate Indonesian incantations into Japanese. Dean-o, do you know how hard that is? No, you don’t. But I can tell you. There are no fucking experts anywhere. Only Kevin. He always gets it right.”

“Wow... that... that is an awesome gift,” Dean answers and wonders what the hell kind of crowd watches a movie that needs Indonesian translated into Japanese.

“You grow up with a Tiger-Mom, you’ll have ‘gifts’, too,” Kevin dismisses the compliment, but is still clearly flattered.

“Oh Kev, your Mom is a scary lady but you are and will always be excellent at everything. You are a prodigy!” Balti says proudly.

Weird as it is, Dean gets the feeling that underneath the bitching and bickering, Balti and Kevin are really fond of each other. It reminds him of the way Bobby used to be with Sam.

“Well, apart from the cat thing. Dean, never let him care for your cat. Not if you value the cat’s life. On that note, is she alive still?”

“Umm, yeah. Last I saw her.”

“When did you last see her?” Balthazar asks suspiciously.

“Before I left?” Kevin sighs. Dean gets the impression that they have had this conversation more than once.

“You left her alone with your Mom?” Balti sounds alarmed.

“Chill. My Mom isn’t home. Dax was completely safe when I left.”

“She had water and food and wasn’t mangled?” Balthazar asks for clarification.

“Jeez, Balthazar, Dax is fine. Here,” Kevin pushes up his sleeve to reveal a few angry claw marks. “She is clearly doing well if she can attack me.”

“Good. You two deserve each other.”

“I should have just brought her here. Let the hospital deal with the both of you,” Kevin groans.

“Oh, you should have!” Balti seems delighted at the idea. “Gabriel would love her I’m sure. He would probably feed her candy, though, so maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea after all. Hmm.”

“You’re bat-shit crazy, man,” Dean shakes his head.

“What? It’s not my fault Gabe loves candy more than his own life!”

“Who’s Gabriel?” asks Kevin.

“My nurse,” answers Balti at the same time that Dean says, “His muse.”

That makes Balti chuckle. “You’re not wrong. I am more inspired about something that doesn’t include angels and demons than I have been in forever! Well, I guess it does include angels in a way. Angels that fell, ahh, so romantic!”

Dean groans and Kevin looks confused, but Balti just stares dreamily into nothing before snapping back to attention. “You didn’t by any chance bring my notebook, Kev?”

“Actually, I did,” Kevin searches his backpack and hands Balti a leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen.

“Old-fashioned,” Dean comments.

“Well, Dean, the best ideas are still coming from an old-fashioned brain not from a text editing program,” Balti retorts.

“Geez, no need to snap.”

“He’s just being ‘an artist’,” Kevin snorts. “I have to put up with this every day.”

“So do I,” says Dean. “And I don’t have my own room to go back to. Or a Tiger-Mom to save me.”

“You always have Dr. Sexy!” counters Balthazar with a sweet smile.

“Fuck you, Balti.”

“Tsk, tsk, no cussing in front of Kevin! He’s a good kid, we don’t need to corrupt him.”

Kevin laughs at this. “As if you’d manage to corrupt me! I know where I want to go in life and it’s not where you are.”

“Where do you want to go?” Dean asks.

Kevin regards him for a moment as if to figure out whether Dean is actually interested, but then he shrugs and says, “Oxford. Or maybe Cambridge.”

“Europe, huh?” Dean says. “Not MIT or something?”

Kevin looks at him with a frown. “Just cause I’m Asian doesn’t mean I have to go into engineering or math, you know.”

“So you’re not good at math?”

Kevin bristles at that. “I’m excellent at math. I just don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I get that,” answers Dean. “So you’re working for Balti to get the money to go to college overseas?”

“I’m working for him because he gives me money for studying languages. Which I would be doing anyway. Also, it gets me out of cello practice.” Kevin shrugs. “I’m going to get a scholarship for Oxford anyway. I won’t need any money for college.”

“Yeah, you’re smart enough for it. My brother’s got a scholarship for Stanford,” Dean says.

Kevin looks him up and down like he’s seeing him for the first time. “Your brother goes to Stanford?”

“Kevin! Rude!” Balti admonishes him.

“Nah,” Dean waves it aside. “It’s all good. No one ever contested that my brother got the smarts and I didn’t.”

“Dean,” Balti warns, “you want to stop right there. Dr. Sexy won’t be amused.”

Dean sighs. He hadn’t even noticed how that came out. “Shit. You going to tell him?”

“You going to tell what to whom?” Kevin asks, confused again.

“Dr. Sexy, or, well, Dr. Novak. Dean’s not supposed to say mean things about himself. He can’t seem to stop, though. And no, Dean, I’m not going to tell him. As long as you stop putting yourself down, that is.”

Dean nods, because he doesn’t really have much choice, does he? “Honest mistake, I swear. Still getting used to this.”

Chapter Text

Before Balti can answer, the door bursts open and Gabriel rushes in. “I heard the news! You finally got a visitor! I am so happy for you, Balti!”

Balthazar looks taken aback but recovers quickly. “Nice to see you, too, Gabe. And I know I’m repeating myself but I am not as pathetic as Dean and you seem to think. I have just not been living here very long.” With a shake of his head he introduces, “Kevin, this is my nurse Gabriel. Yes, he is actually a nurse. He’ll show you his credentials. Gabriel, this is my housemate Kevin.”

“Nice to meet you, Kev. You look young? How old are you? Want a lollipop?” Gabriel reaches into one of his pockets and fishes a lollipop out.

“I am not that young,” Kevin replies clearly irritated and Dean tries very hard to keep it together and not burst out laughing again. This is almost like Dr. Sexy.

“Gabriel, please. Try to behave,” Balti says and Gabe looks at him with so much affection that Dean thinks they might kiss right here in front of the kid.

“If you say so, darling,” Gabriel answers, grins widely, unwraps the lollipop and licks it obscenely while holding Balti’s gaze. “I love candy.”

“Gabe! There’s a kid in the room!” Dean doesn’t believe that he even has to say this.

Gabriel holds Balti’s eyes, which have grown substantially wider, for a moment longer before he stops the opening sequence of the Casa Erotica movie and pouts. “Spoilsport.”

“You are strange,” Kevin states evenly.

Dean’s eyebrows rise. Strange? That’s it? Obviously, the kid is too much into languages to watch Casa Erotica. Well, good for him.

“So, why are you living with my favorite patient?” Gabriel asks, all fake innocence, while Balti is still trying to recover from the little interlude.

“He’s living with me, not the other way around,” Kevin corrects. “I translate his shitty movie for him.”

In opposition to Dean, Gabriel is obviously not surprised at the mention of movies. “So, how many languages can you translate?”

“Which ever one you ask. I speak ten languages fluently, but I can learn the others when needed. Currently, I am focusing on ancient languages like Latin, ancient Greek, Hebrew and Enochian.”

“Enochian? Never heard of that one,” Gabriel says.

“Oh, honey, no need to pretend with me,” smirks Balthazar who has finally recovered. “I know your secret already.”

“Oh God,” Kevin groans in sudden understanding. “Gabriel. The archangel. Your fallen angel. And how hard did he fall exactl- No, don’t answer that. I didn’t need the image that I just gave myself.”

Dean starts laughing out loud, because the look on Balti’s face is priceless but Gabe is just looking from one to the other. “What? What did I miss?”

Kevin rolls his eyes but he takes pity on Gabe. “Enochian is the legendary language of angels. He’s implying you should know it because you’re an angel.”

Dean is still laughing, but he wants to pat Kevin’s shoulder for that. He can’t so he at least says, “Well, done. My little brother would never have gotten through that sentence without making gagging noises.”

“I’m young, but I’m not immature. I have some dignity,” Kevin replies solemnly.

Balti has started giggling by now, too. “Oh believe me, kiddo, you have more dignity than all of us put together.”

“Secret language of angels, huh? You can actually study that?” Gabe asks curiously.

“Yup,” Kevin nods. “Though I have the nagging suspicion that the best references are hidden somewhere in the vaults of the Vatican and I’ll never get to them.”

“The Pope is keeping the angels all to himself, huh?”

“Not according to the legend. Unless he fell in love with his guardian angel,” Kevin shrugs.

“What? You lost me,” Gabe says.

Kevin sighs heavily though he doesn’t look unhappy about getting to talk about this topic. “The legend says that Enochian was kept secret from the humans for Eons until one day a guardian angel fell in love with a human.”

The motion is almost imperceptible, but Dean catches it anyway. Balti has tapped Gabriel’s hand to get his attention and now Gabe is taking Balti’s hand in his own. The smiles they are giving each other are sickeningly sweet.

Kevin is caught up in his story and oblivious to his surroundings, though. “That’s where the story turns dramatic. Because you know, the human is doomed to die and the angel knows it but can’t do anything about it. Because angel radio doesn’t have the right frequency for humans, you know? Guardian angels aren’t actually supposed to talk to the humans in their charge.”

“Pity,” Balti smiles.

“Hey, messenger of God and all, I can talk to you whenever I want,” Gabe smiles back.

“Are you two even listening?” Kevin complains.

“What? Oh yeah, of course we’re listening,” Balti hurries to say.

“Yeah, right,” Kevin huffs, but he starts the story again. “So the angel tries and tries to send a warning, but it doesn’t work. Until one night, the angel is watching the human’s dream as usual and suddenly the human sees them and talks to them. In their dream. And what’s more, when the angel answers and speaks Enochian the human understands every word. The angel warns them about their impending death and the human remembers in the morning and heeds the warning and escapes death.”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” says Gabriel.

“That’s not the point of the story,” says Kevin irritated.

“What’s the point, then?” asks Balti.

“The point is that the human and the angel met in the dream world for many years and the human learned Enochian and passed the language on to their children and grandchildren and finally someone wrote it down and now I can study it.”

“Blah,” says Gabriel. “That’s a boring end to the story. What about the romance and love?”

Now Kevin makes a face like he’s going to gag. “Alright, if I have to, here’s the romance novel end: Even though the human had married on Earth, the angel was always their true love. So when the human died, God took pity on them and didn’t send the human off to wherever but allowed them to be together for all eternity. Satisfied?”

“Yes!” beams Gabriel. “That’s so much better. Here,” he gets a package of gummi bears out of his pocket, “for telling me such a nice story.”

“You are aware that it isn’t the actual end of the story, right? That I made that up? The human died and went to purgatory while the angel got a new case assigned.”

“Shut up,” Gabriel says and presses the gummi bears into Kevin’s hand. “I like the other end much better.”

“If you say so,” Kevin shrugs. “Love and loss are eternal themes of all stories, though.”

“Hear, hear,” Balti says, “it’s almost like you finally watched my movies.”

“Ha ha,” answers Kevin. “As if my Mom would let me watch your movies. Not that I’d want to.”

“Ohh, you’re hurting my artistic sensibilities, Kev.”

“Aww, baby, I’ll watch your movies, even if they suck,” says Gabriel.

“Gross.” Kevin wrinkles his nose and gets up. “I can’t take any more of this. Also, Mom is going to be home in 20 minutes. I’ll better go and ensure Dax’s safety.” He puts his backpack on his back and waves at them. “I’ll come by again sometime in the next few days. Whenever my Mom gives me a breather.”

“Hey, Kev?” Balti calls after him. “Thanks for everything.”

“No problem. Just get better, okay?”

“I will,” Balti nods.

“I like him,” Gabriel says when Kevin has left the room.

“He’s a nice kid,” Balti says. “Too smart for his own good, though. And his Mom is scary.”

“Am I going to meet her, too?”

Balti laughs. “If you’re lucky, you won’t. She doesn’t like me all that much. So she probably won’t visit.”

“Hmm,” Gabe thinks about that for a moment, “so you’re saying I ain’t going to meet her unless she’s coming to visit here? Does that mean you’re planning on forgetting about me as soon as you’re out of here?”

Balti’s face falls. “Oh God, Gabe, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! Of course you can come visit me at home at any time!”

Immediately, Gabriel’s smile is back. “Relax, sweetie. I was just teasing.” Then he turns to Dean. “I got slightly bad news for you, though. Cassie got pulled into pit-duty. Either they’re actually swamped or it is a ploy by Demon-Meg to keep him out of here. I’m not sure yet. Either way, he won’t make it tonight.”

Dean’s good mood immediately crumples but he nods. “Thanks for letting me know, Gabe.”

“Oh dammit, now I have made him sad. Do something about it, Balti!”

Balti squeezes Gabe’s hand before shooing him off. “You go, we’ll talk Dr. Sexy M.D. That always cheers him up.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Well, alright then.” Gabe waves at them and then he’s gone.

“You good over there, Dean-o?” Balti asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dean replies quietly.

“You’re crushing hard on him, kid. Harder than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Not a kid,” huffs Dean.

“Then take the next step, for God’s sake! I’m not saying jump into bed with him, well, not that you can jump right now and ick, please don’t do anything while I’m in the room, but come on, Dean, hold his hand and tell him that he has the prettiest blue angel eyes. Ask him for his phone number. Ask him to go on a date with you. Just do something!”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “I won’t.”

“But why?” asks Balti almost desperately.

“Because he’d say no.”

“How do you know that if you don’t ask?”

“Because he’s my doctor.”

“He won’t be your doctor forever, for God’s sake!” Balti throws his arms in the air.

“Umm, am I interrupting?” Sam’s tall frame is taking up the whole doorway.

“No!” Balti exclaims. “Maybe you can make your brother see sense. I sure can’t. He’s so fucking stubborn.”

“Tell me about it,” says Sam but he’s smiling while he’s saying it. “What’s he doing now?”

“Throwing away his chance at happiness. Though that’s just my personal opinion,” Balti grumbles.

“It’s not about my happiness, Balti,” Dean says exasperated. “And can we please drop the topic now?”

“It’s never about your happiness, Dean. Ever thought that maybe it should be?” Sam asks.

Dean groans. “You don’t even know what we’re talking about and you’re siding with him?”

Sam has the gall to laugh at that. “Dean, he’s talking about you throwing your happiness away. It’s not hard to come to the conclusion that you’re talking about Cas.”

Yeah, he guesses that part is true. “And it’s still not about my happiness. Because you know, Cas deserves a shot at happiness, too.”

“And who made the rule that he can’t have that with you, huh?” Balti snorts.

“Sam tell him,” Dean says because he’s out of options. Balti is just too dense or too stubborn to get it. But Sam can tell him. Sam’s been around Dean all his life. He knows.

“Tell him what, Dean? That you’re no good for Cas?” Sam plunks down in the chair next to Dean’s bed. “Sorry, can’t do.”

“But you’ve been there. You know,” Dean says desperately.

“When you raised me? When you made me dinner every night? When you stole Christmas presents for me because Dad forgot about Christmas? When you made sure I could study in peace no matter what Dad’s newest crazy plan was, because you knew school was important to me? Yep, been there.”

“But it wasn’t enough! You weren’t happy. Dad wasn’t happy. I could never do enough to make any of you happy.” It comes out as broken as Dean feels and he hates that.

“Remember that day when you found 20 bucks and Dad wasn’t home so we went out for ice-cream?”

Dean hadn’t exactly found those 20 bucks, but he nods because he remembers the day.

“I was happy that day. And not because of the ice-cream. But because you were excited and happy.”

Dean bites his lip. “You’d gotten straight As in your first round of mid-term exams in high school. I was excited that I could give you a small celebration.”

“You remember what grades I got?” Sam asks surprised.

“Duh,” Dean rolls his eyes, “isn’t exactly hard. You always got straight As. Well, apart from the one time you got a B+ in English Literature. You were upset about that for a week.”

“I’m still sure that the teacher’s interpretation of the text was wrong, not mine.”

They both chuckle at that.

Then Sam’s face turns serious. “I got some news. My professor agreed to accept your case. It isn’t and here I quote ‘the most exciting thing in the world’ but he hasn’t had a vacation in a while, so he decided on a road trip to Kansas.”

“My case is a vacation for him?”

Sam shrugs. “He’s used to murder trials. A rural DUI case is like a vacation for him.”

“Alright?” Dean says dubiously.

“After a phone call from him to the local police, I got your case file, too. I’m going to use tomorrow to work through it, so that I can present the case to him.”

“You’re not going to come by tomorrow,” Dean concludes.

“That’s pretty much what I wanted to say, yeah. Are you okay with that? I remember that you guys had plans for tomorrow anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, of course it’s okay,” Dean says, “I just – I guess I just got used to having you around again.”

Sam smiles at that. “I’ve missed you, too, Dean.”

“Shut up,” he says because he can feel the blood rise into his cheeks. Sam has missed him longer than Dean has missed Sam. He had been gone long before Sam left, the alcohol erasing most of him.

Sam grins. “Now that’s the Dean I know and love. Anyway, Bobby expects me for dinner. He’s going to make his famous burgers so see to it that you get better fast so that you can get some of them, too.”

Dean shakes his head. “Bobby’s burgers are good, but they have nothing on mine. When I’m out of here, I’m making burgers for all of us.” As an afterthought, he adds. “As long as you make sure that you’ve cleared all of the booze out of the house. Don’t think I can make it through a dinner of burgers yet, unless there is no beer anywhere for me to grab.”

“Of course, Dean,” Sam says quickly. “We’re going to help where we can.”

Dean sighs because it’s yet another item on the list of things he can never repay Sam for. “Thanks, man.”

Sam fixes him with an intent gaze for a moment but then he smiles. “I got to give back a fraction of what you gave for me.”

Can everyone read his thoughts now? Dean isn’t sure he likes that.

Sam stretches and gets up. “Alright then. Dinner calls. Hey Balthazar? I want a report on that video night. Someone’s got to push Dean towards his luck and I ain’t here to do it.”

“Want my cell number? I can live-text you. You can give me tips on what to do.”

“Now that’s a great idea.” Sam whips out his cell phone and before Dean can do anything against it, there are two beeps indicating that phone numbers have been exchanged.

“You’re assholes, both of you,” grumbles Dean.

“Hey, we’re just trying to help,” Balti says.

“Yeah, like hell you are. You are just trying to up the drama for your movie.”

Balti chuckles. “Believe it or not, Dean, but I actually like happy ends.”

Chapter Text

“What have I told you about cooking when I am not home?” his Dad shouts and Dean wants to hide somewhere. He wants to say 'Sammy was hungry and hasn't gotten a real dinner for two days at least and you weren't there so I made him something,' but of course he is too afraid to actually say it.

“You told me not to turn on the oven when you are not here, Sir,” he answers instead because he is sure that that is the right answer.

“That is true, Dean,” his father answers a little calmer and Dean breathes a little easier. This isn't over yet, he knows his Dad too well when he is drunk like this. But at least he won himself another minute or two.

“And why are you not allowed to do it?” his father asks and Dean feels like a trapped rabbit. He knows exactly where this is heading and he can't do anything about it.

“Because it can cause a fire, Sir,” he answers fast and prepares for the inevitable.

“Exactly. So tell me again, Dean, why have you done it anyway?” Dean can hear the anger in John's voice rise again and he fears the answer he has to give but of course he has no other option.

“Because I was hungry, Sir. I am sorry, Sir.” He knows that the apologies won't help, but he tries it anyway.

“You are sorry? Sorry? What if something happened? Was one fire not enough? Do you want to hurt me on purpose?” his father is shouting again and Dean just manages a “No, Sir.”

It's only a matter of time now. One wrong move, just one and he will get what his Dad thinks that he deserves for not listening. He closes his eyes. He wants to escape, wants to leave this place for good.

- - -

He feels good. The body of the woman feels soft and he lets his hand trail down her back. He wants to vanish in this feeling. It has nothing to do with her. He doesn't care about her.

He doesn't even like her perfume, or her laughter. She is attractive, and as good as the next woman. Or guy. She just happened to be there.

It's her heat that he craves. Her touch. Losing himself in a mindless hook-up, just to stop thinking.

Stop thinking about his father, always disappointed in him, always expecting more and nothing that Dean does is good enough.
Stop thinking about his brother, always let down by Dean and still looking up to him, still being proud of his big brother although he should know better by now.
Stop thinking about everything that pulls him down.

Vanishing in lust and physical closeness, in the taste of whiskey on her lips and the feeling of her body against his.

Forgetting the world, everything that's around him, forgetting who he is, forgetting himself in this little moment.

- - -

Just one moment, it's just one moment. That’s all it takes. It's like the world stops spinning, he can see everything in slow motion. He can see the silver car, see the Impala, his baby, crashing right into it.
It's almost surreal and still he knows that it's happening.

The next thing he knows is that he is opening the car door. He steps out slowly, looks at himself and is surprised.

Everything is okay. Everything is okay. Everything is okay.

Relief fills him, nothing has happened. It's fine. But then his gaze lands on the other car, on the man behind the wheel.

He looks familiar as if he has seen him somewhere before.

Broad-shouldered, a beard, a striped shirt and a sailor’s cap. He knows this man and he knows immediately that something is wrong. “Benny.” His mouth forms the word but there is no sound coming out.

With a few steps he is by the car, rips open the door and he knows immediately. He knows that Benny is dead. He knows it.

Still, he touches the other man, shakes him. “Benny. Benny,” he murmurs and he can feel the tears dripping down his face.

He has killed Benny.

“No,” a voiceless scream escapes him, “no!”

* * *

“Mr. Winchester! Are you alright?”

With a jolt, Dean awakes. His whole body is covered in sweat and he’s panting as if he had just run a mile at full speed.
Confused, he looks around and sees the night nurse standing in front of his bed looking worried.

'Calm down, Winchester,' he tries to tell himself, 'it was just a dream.'

“I’m good,” he manages to say and even in his own ears it sounds false.

“You are not looking good,” the nurse states. “I can ask the doctor to give you something so you can sleep.”

“No!” he almost shouts it, so he tries again, “No. Thank you. I won't need that.”

“Are you sure?” the nurse is still worried and it gets to Dean. He isn't used to that.

“I am sure, Nurse …?” he squints to read her name tag but it is too dark in the room.

“I'm Pamela Barnes,” the nurse answers and smiles. “Well, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Thank you. I'll be alright.” Dean answers. He isn’t actually sure about that one, he can still feel the nightmare in his bones, but for now he just wants to be alone.

“If you need anything, please feel free to call,” Pamela says and Dean just nods.

Then the room is empty again. Balti is still snoring next to him and Dean wonders how he manages to sleep through enough of a racket that even the night-nurse noticed. He envies Balti’s ability to sleep through everything. Or to sleep at all.

He stares into the semi-darkness around him and listens to the noises of the room because that is about the extent of what his brain can be persuaded to do right now. He doesn't want to drive himself crazy thinking about this dream, he doesn't want it to get to him and he tries very hard not to freak out.

Cas has told him that there might be more nightmares, that this could happen again.
Cas was there the last time, he talked to him, he listened.
Cas allowed him to call him by his first name, allowed him to get a little closer.
Cas looked at him with those blue eyes, looked at him like no one ever has. As if Cas was able to see a different Dean. Someone who’s somehow more Dean than he normally is.
He knows that he was screwed from the moment he looked up and met those blue eyes.

God, thinking about Cas isn’t any easier than thinking about nightmares. Different, but in its own way no less painful. The ache in his chest that was a distant longing at first, for something he knew he couldn’t have but that his younger, less broken self might have pursued anyway, has manifested itself as physical pain. Even thinking back to his teenage years, he doesn’t think he’s ever fallen so hard for someone. It scares him and if he knew a way to turn back… But no, Dean is kidding himself, because he wouldn’t turn his back on Cas even if he knew a way how.

And maybe… It’s greedy and selfish and probably a delusion, but Balthazar and Sam both seem to think that there is something there. Something that is not just Dean’s wishful thinking. Gabriel even told him that Cas likes his eyes. It isn’t much and he doesn’t think that his eyes can make up for the rest of him, but… Dean sighs. This is not exactly the direction he wanted his thoughts to take, either.

Well, it’s better than the other option. Because yeah, Cas makes him long for a different life, but the nightmare, the nightmare makes him want to forget. To stop existing. To never feel this much pain again. The nightmare makes him wish he had died.

He closes his eyes and sees Benny’s lifeless body in front of him, can even smell the air. A rotten taste fills his mouth and he hastily opens his eyes again.

This is better. Even if the shapes are murky and there is no color in the world, this is better. Everything is alright. Benny is fine. He is alive.

Dean concentrates on his breathing, because he remembers that that helped last time. In and out. In and out. Focus on the room and just breathe. Focus on where the blanket lies on your legs and stay in the moment. It was easier with Cas there, but slowly he feels calmer. He still doesn’t dare to close his eyes for a long time, though. Finally, his exhaustion wins and his eyes slip closed. He is glad when there are no more images appearing in his mind. He keeps breathing and hopes for sleep to claim him once more.

***

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Gabriel wakes him by poking his arm.

Dean feels like he hasn't slept at all. “We’re back to rise and shine? Really, Gabe?” he groans.

Gabriel just laughs. “Really, Dean.”

“I dislike being woken up by you,” Dean answers groggily.

“Well, if you are lucky, you’ll be out of here by the time I get back to day-shifts. Of course you will probably exchange ‘Rise and Shine’ for Demon-Meg for the next week.”

That doesn't actually help, so Dean groans even louder. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it's my job. And because you need to eat breakfast so we can after that get you into the shower so that you smell nice for tonight’s Dr. Sexy marathon with your personal Dr. Sexy,” answers Gabriel and puts the tray on the nightstand.

“What about me? I want to smell good, too!” Balti complains and Gabe gives him a cocky grin.

“Well, I can always get a washcloth later and wash your whole body personally…” Gabe’s smirk is positively lecherous.

“Come on guys, I am still in the room!” Dean would be tempted to stick his fingers in his ears if he thought it would help. But he doubts that anything helps against Gabe.

The idjit in question just chuckles. “Okay, okay. How about I call for someone to help Balti while the two of us are showering?”

Dean is pretty sure that the look Balthazar shoots him is meant to kill.

“Wait, that came out wrong,” Gabe corrects himself quickly. “Balti, sweetheart, you have no need to be jealous, I will just help Dean in the shower. No... I mean...”

Seeing Gabe so obviously flustered, Balti starts laughing. “I get it, Gabe. You can stop now.”

A relieved sigh escapes Gabriel. “Good. I will let you eat and after that I will take you to the shower, Dean.”

“My brother brought me some clothes, any chance I get to wear them after the shower? Cause no offense, but hospital gowns suck.”

Gabe looks at him appraisingly for a second, then shrugs. “Boxers and a t-shirt. Because I feel generous today. But only if you do well. And don’t throw a hissy-fit about me seeing you naked.”

Dean can feel the heat rising to his face, so he nods quickly.

Gabe smirks and re-assures Balti in a stage-whisper, “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ve seen it before, it’s no threat to you.”

“Hey!” Dean complains, but it’s too late already. Gabe and Balti are both laughing out loud and Gabe winks and then he’s out of the door.

“Ow... that hurts. Stop making me laugh, Dean-o.” Balti is holding his side.

“I didn’t…” but then Dean realizes it’s useless and just says, “shut up” and concentrates on the breakfast in front of him. He isn’t really hungry, but he guesses that he can give it a try at least.

“I get it, I get it. You are not a morning person and nobody should speak to you before 10 am,” Balthazar sighs and starts eating his own breakfast.

Dean couldn’t have said it any better and he can't help but grin. “Actually, no one should wake me before 10am. Not that Gabe would care.”

“No, he certainly would not,” Balti chuckles.

***

Dean finished his breakfast half an hour ago and they have started watching this stupid Spanish telenovela again, which he clearly is not starting to enjoy.

“Do you think Carlos will get his Cecil?” Dean asks.

“I am not even sure that Dr. Sexy will get his favorite patient if they don't start to do something about it soon, but yes, I hope so.”

“Dr. Sexy is married to –,” Dean’s brain needs a moment to catch up before he gets it. “Ha ha. You don't need to give me hints, I heard you loud and clear yesterday.” He points vaguely at the TV. “But I do hope that these two will get each other, they have good chemistry.”

Before Balti can answer, Gabe walks in enthusiastically. “Who is ready for a shower?”

“I’m feeling grungy enough for it. Just not so sure about the whole part where it’s you and me alone in the bathroom,” Dean says.

“Oh, Dean-o. You know, I can always call for Demon-Meg. Why are you watching ‘La vida nos trae muchas sorpresas’ without me again?”

Balti laughs. “No one says the full name, Gabe. I call it Valle de la Noche, since that's the town it's playing in. How you even know the name in its entirety is still puzzling to me.”

“Okay, okay. Point taken. Just don’t over-do it with the TV-romance and make sure you two are well rested for tonight, because I will force you to watch Dr. Sexy for at least 6 hours,” Gabriel answers with a wink.

“Let's get this over with, Gabe,” Dean interrupts before this goes any further.

“As you wish, Dean-o. Where are the clothes your sweet little brother moose brought you?”

“Travel sack. Under the bed.”

“Alrighty-right,” Gabe says and fishes out the bag. “Did you want to pick out which pair of underwear is gonna make the best impression on my brother?”

Dean just shoots him a look that says he’s about fed up with him, so Gabe chuckles and roams around in the bag himself. “Hmm, boring. Boring. Do you not own anything that’s not black or plaid? Ah, okay, that’s better,” Gabe holds up a Kansas band shirt for closer inspection, “that’ll do. And now for the boxers, let’s see. Loose fitting, loose fitting, boring, don’t you have any boxer briefs?”

Yep, whatever he thought might have been the most embarrassing moment of his life, Gabriel will somehow find a way to top it.

“Ah, well, they’ll have to do.” Gabe chooses a pair of purple and blue plaid boxers. “Let me get these to the bathroom. You can already sit up in the meantime.”

Dean doesn’t even have to look around to know that Balti is snickering. “Shut it, Balti,” he grumbles.

“Oh, but it’s adorable how much care he takes to find the outfit his brother will like best!”

Before Dean can answer, Gabe is back. “Wonderful, everything's set! Now we only need to get you into the shower.” He offers Dean a hand and helps him up. Together they walk to the shower.

“Do you have to stay in here while I shower?” Dean asks. He doubts that his face is even a tiny bit less crimson than it was while Gabe rummaged through his underwear.

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Yes. You are still weak. There is a possibility that you could collapse and if I’m not here to help you, you can sue the piss out of the hospital and cost me my job. We can't have that now, can we? Arms to the sides. Careful if you please.”

Dean holds his arms out and Gabe helps him out of the hospital gown, his movements now swift and efficient.

“One down, one to go,” Gabe says and starts fumbling with the medical brace Dean is wearing.

“Gabe... why exactly do I have to wear the brace?” Dean asks.

Gabriel freezes. “You’re asking me now? After a week? Hasn't anyone bothered to mention that your spleen was punctured?”

“Yeah, Cas has told me that.”

“Well, and how do you think one repairs a punctured spleen?”

“You sew it back together?”

“Wrong, but not that wrong. Actually, you glue it together. With plasma. Kind of crazy when you think about it.”

“Plasma?” Dean asks but then decides he doesn’t want to know the gory details. “What does that have to do with the brace?”

“Be patient. I am getting there. When you want to glue something together that's inside of your body, what do you need to do before you can do that?”

“I am not a child, Gabe. Just tell me without the pop quiz.”

“You are no fun, Dean-o. But as you wish. You have to cut open enough skin to get to the place you want to glue. So, you have a 5 1/2 inch vertical scar on your stomach.”

“5 1/2 inches is long,” Dean almost touches his stomach but then shies away at the last second. He suddenly feels a little sick.

“That's where the medical brace comes in. It keeps the pressure from the scar, that way it can heal better. It's not really necessary at this point. But if I were you, I would still put it back on after the shower. We have to change the patch that's covering it anyway,” Gabriel explains.

“Okay. You’re the boss,” Dean says. He’s not sure he wants the brace gone. He hasn’t actually looked at the scar yet and he doesn’t think he wants to.

Gabe pats his shoulder. “Now you just need to tell that to Cassie, too, and I’ll make sure that you and him...”

“Can I shower now?” Dean interrupts harshly. Standing around mostly naked with Gabe prattling about Cas is not Dean’s idea of fun.

“Of course. Be my guest.”

Gabe helps Dean to remove the brace and it feels a little strange, like his stomach might fall apart any minute. He can feel where the scar is. Worriedly, he glances down at his stomach, but there’s nothing to see but a big white patch.

Gabriel seems to notice his unease, because he says, “Don't worry, it's okay to shower with it. It's better to leave it there, that way the scar is protected. The stitches are still in.”

“I thought you said they glued it.”

“Yes, the spleen. Not your stomach.”

Dean rolls his eyes at Gabe’s exasperated tone. “Whatever you say, dude.”

He steps away from Gabe and holds on to the tiled wall for the few short steps into the shower. Walking is easier than it was. So that’s good. But it isn’t easy enough yet that he tries to step away when he turns on the water to avoid the first cold spray before the water warms up. He isn’t risking slipping in the shower.

He looks over his shoulder to check what Gabriel is doing and finds him busy with preparing the new patches and not looking at him at all. Dean sends him a silent thank you for being professional for once. Can’t be easy for him.

Finally, the water warms up and Dean lets it wash over his head. He hadn’t noticed how much he missed showering until right this second. By now, the steady pressure of water on his scalp is exactly right and it feels like he is washing away the stale odor of half a decade of whiskey.

Then he becomes aware of the water hitting his stomach and it doesn’t hurt really, but it feels weird, the water splatters on the patch and he isn’t sure that it should feel weird. Again, his hand hovers just over the scar, trying to protect it from the constant flow of the water or maybe trying to keep the wound from opening up. Trying to keep his guts from spilling out and falling onto the clean white tiles of the shower.

‘Whoa, get a grip, your insides are not going to fall out.’

Because the wound got sewed shut and he’ll keep a 5 1/2 inch long scar as reminder. 5 1/2 inches. That won’t go away. He’ll carry the scar forever. Like the guilt. It will be a constant reminder of how much he fucked up. He won't be able to hide it. Not from himself, not from others. Every new doctor, every new lover, they will always ask where he got that scar. Every time he’ll have to say ‘I drank too much and I hit Benny’s car and I almost killed him.’

'Stop, Winchester. Stop it,' he thinks because he’s getting way too close to his nightmare here, but it doesn't help.

Benny’s lifeless form slumped over his steering wheel. Warm blood flowing from the gash in his forehead. Dean frantically trying to pull him out of the car. Dean’s hand sticky with blood. Dean’s screams that echo in the stillness of the night. All the nightmares blend into one, the new ones and the old, Sam’s face suddenly appearing, too, eyes too wide, the hurt clear in them, and his Dad’s face, hollowed out from the alcohol, dark circles under his eyes, but still gleaming as spiteful as ever.

“Stop. Stop it,” he whispers and digs his fingernails into his palms to snap out of it.

“Dean? Is everything alright?”

The spite in his father’s eyes is more real than Gabriel’s voice and so he doesn’t know what to say, hears him but has no answer. His father’s derision. Sam’s hurt. Benny’s blood. His father. Sam. Benny. An endless circle, spinning faster and faster. It's all his fault. He let it happen. He let his Dad die. He pushed Sam away. He crashed his car into Benny’s. He has become like his father. He has become his own nightmare.

“Dean? Dean, you're shaking!”

Something changes. The rain that was beating down steadily while he tried to rescue Benny from the wreckage has stopped. No. Not the rain. But the water. There’s a towel now, someone is wrapping it around him.

“Dean, talk to me, do you hear me?”

And yeah, he hears that, so he nods, even though Sam’s eyes stare at him accusingly. At least they aren’t dead like his father’s.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Dean.”

The command is quiet and maybe Dean would get away with not listening, he does it often enough. He turns on the stove or the oven because Sam is hungry and he knows he’s disobeying a direct order, but it isn’t right that Sammy should be hungry. But that’s no excuse. There is no excuse for anything he’s done. He should have listened.

So he answers the voice, even though the words are hollow and even though they hurt. “It's my fault. It's all my fault.”

Chapter Text

“Your fault? What is your fault, Dean?”

The voice is surprisingly gentle and there is a small touch to his shoulder. Dean flinches away from it.

Immediately, the pressure on his skin is gone. “There’s no need for that. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Dean nods because it is easier and because you should never talk back. Talking back only gets you in more trouble.

“I’ll wrap a second towel around your shoulders, alright? Hold on to it for me, please, so that it doesn’t fall down.”

He does as he’s told, but his fingers shake and try as he might, he doesn’t get them to keep still long enough. The towel slips out of his grasp and falls to the floor. His father’s laughter is venomous and too loud. He turns his head away. He doesn’t need him to know that he can’t even do the smallest things right. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Not enough. Never enough to be sorry.

He flinches again when the hand is back, but it just wraps the towel back around his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Dean. Here, we’ll just put the towel a little further forward on your shoulders, then it won’t fall.”

He nods again. This is too easy. He can’t be getting away this easy. Not when it’s all his fault. Maybe it’s a trick. A trick to lure him in and make him feel safe so that the punishment will hit him even harder.

“Dean, do you know where you are?”

There is a muddy street, it has been raining he thinks, but now it’s stopped and the two cars are piled into one big heap of metal.

“Okay, we’ll try it differently. Dean, tell me where you are.” The voice is still soft, but the tone is more challenging now, demanding attention.

There is the oven in the apartment. It is a small miracle that they have an apartment. They’ve stayed here for over two months now. Sam has found friends at school. It is almost like having a home. But Dean doesn’t dare call this place home because the moment he does, his Dad will make sure to drag them away and they’ll have to start all over again.

“It will be easier to tell me if you open your eyes. Open your eyes, Dean.”

The voice has reached the no-nonsense stage and Dean knows that tone well, so he opens his eyes. The world blurs and swims for a moment and the face in front of him with it.
He thinks it’s Sam for a moment but the hair is too short and the bone structure is wrong. The face is too young to be his father’s and the beard is too scraggly to belong to Bobby. “Gabe,” he finds a name in his memory and attaches it to the face.

“Very good. Tell me more.”

He’s sitting on a padded plastic stool and the man called Gabe is kneeling in front of him, close, but careful not to touch him it seems. There are white tiles. They’re in a bathroom. “You’re my nurse,” he says slowly. “Though you never showed me your credentials.”

The man in front of him breathes a relieved sigh and a smile spreads on his face. “Welcome back, Dean. For a moment there, you went to a place that was no fun at all.”

There is wetness on his face and as Dean wipes at it with his palms, it just comes back. He’s crying. He wills his fingers to bend and this time, it’s easier. He grasps the edge of the towel and wipes at his face.

“Don’t move,” Gabe says and gets up. A minute later, he’s back, a glass in his hand. He holds it out in front of Dean. “Drink this. It’s just water.”

Dean takes the glass and swallows in slow sips. When the glass is empty, he hands it back. “Thanks, Gabe.” Even after the water, his voice still sounds hoarse.

“No problem, Dean-o,” Gabriel answers. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I... I don't know,” Dean shakes his head.

“M-hm,” Gabe nods. “I don’t believe you.”

“I…” but there are no words. No words that he can tell Gabriel at least.

“Alright. I’ll let you off the hook for now. One reason, one condition. Are you listening?” Gabriel looks stern and it makes Dean incredibly uncomfortable.

“I am listening,” he answers.

“The reason is that I know that my brother has already told you that you have to stop with the self-hate. So I don’t think I need to repeat it. Well, I’ll say this much anyway: Not everything that happens in the world is your fault. Actually, most of the problems of this world aren’t your fault. So that’s the reason. Want to know the condition?”

“Do I have a choice?”

A small smile crinkles Gabe’s eyes. “No, not really. I appreciate it that you’re up to sarcasm again, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“Thought so,” Dean says but he manages to attach a half-smile to that. So that must mean that he feels a little bit better.

“The condition is that you talk to someone about this. Doesn’t have to be me. Because, look, I know I’m the trickster and the jester and the nurse who has to show his credentials to absolutely everyone and you don’t actually trust me all that much. That’s fine. But Dean, this isn’t going to go away on its own. You need to tell someone to get it off your chest. Tell my brother. Or yours. Or even that old grumpy guy with the beard. Whoever you trust the most. But don’t try to muddle through this on your own.”

When Dean doesn’t answer immediately, Gabriel kneels back down in front of him, close enough that Dean has to look at him.

“If I send my brother in after we’re done here, will you promise me that you talk to him?”

Blue eyes. Kind eyes. Yeah, he thinks he can do that. “I promise.”

“Good. That's what I wanted to hear,” Gabriel pats his shoulder. “Now are you ready for getting a new dressing on that wound and then getting dressed yourself?”

Dean looks down at his stomach, half hidden by the towel around his waist. He’s scared that it’ll all come back the minute he sees the scar. “I’m not sure I want to see the scar,” Dean mumbles. “It - leads to not so good places.”

“I see,” Gabriel answers and reaches for the new patches anyway. “I have a solution for that. I’ll tell you a sweet childhood story about your beloved Cassie and his gorgeous brother – which is me of course - and you can marvel over the cuteness of your favorite Dr. Sexy instead of fretting about the scar.”

Gabriel’s wide smile is back and only now does Dean notice how much it was missing when Gabe was all serious. “You can't always bribe me with Cas, you know.”

“Oh, but I totally can. It works every time. So, hold still, keep your eyes on me and let me tell my story. When I was eight - so Cassie must have been ten - we found a stray cat in an ally,” Gabriel starts to tell the story while he also starts to pull the patch from Dean's stomach.

Dean imagines a blue-eyed ten-year-old, barefoot and with dirty knees, and he wishes he could actually see pictures.

“Well, she was really thin and looked like hell. Cassie of course already wanted to be a doctor and told me 'We have to help her, Gabe.' I was being the sensible one for once and told him that mother didn't like cats and that we would get into trouble if we took her with us. Well, of course I’m also allergic,” Gabriel keeps talking while he carefully cleans the skin around the scar.

Dean can’t keep his eyes on Gabriel and looks down anyway. The scar is big and nasty, dark red from the disinfectant, but also purple from the bleeding under his skin. He pries his eyes away.

“But when I tried to take the cat away from him, he started crying. And the cat bit me – well – almost bit me, but that's not the matter here. What matters is that she ran right back to Cassie. So, we took her home. Cause Cassie cared so much that it was impossible to take the cat away. He always did that. Cared so much. Cared too much. Like you. You care too much, too.”

Dean shakes his head. “We’re nothing alike, your brother and I.”

Gabe raises his eyebrows. “And I’m the Queen of Sheba. Anyway, I had to distract the whole family by pulling a prank, so that Cassie could smuggle the cat into his room without anyone noticing. Of course, they found out anyway. I don’t know whether you have ever seen Cassie angry and desperate, but when they threatened to put her down, Cassie became downright scary. So yup, impossible to take the cat away. They had to allow him to keep her until they found a new home for her.” Gabriel puts the new patch on Dean’s stomach. “There, done. Wasn't all that bad, was it now?”

“It was okay,” Dean admits, because it was better than he thought. Even though the scar still looked ugly and now also hurts.

“Only okay?” Gabe huffs, “You have to praise me. I am the best nurse in the universe!”

“Of course you are,” Dean says and remembers something, “Did you say you were allergic to cats?”

“Yup, always have been. Why?”

“No reason,” Dean says and for the first time since he stepped into the shower, his smile is real.

“No reason, huh?” asks Gabe suspiciously.

“Nope,” Dean says innocently. “Can I change into my clothes now?”

* * *

It is already almost lunchtime, when Gabe makes good on his promise.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas, hey,” Dean lights up even while his stomach does a few somersaults.

“Kansas, huh?” Cas says with a smile. “Are you a fan?”

Dean looks down at his shirt, the band logo prominent on his chest, the brace underneath visible only as a faint outline. “Classic rock, man, can’t beat that.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Cas shrugs. “I never got educated on rock music. Michael didn’t even allow us to listen to the Christian rock station. And now I have too much work to find out on my own. But I can tell you that the shirt suits you.”

“Um, thanks,” Dean says and tries frantically to get his brain to say something less lame. “I could always play you a few songs.”

Cas lays his head to the side and stares at him intensely. “Like on the notebook or on a guitar?”

“Umm,” yep, brain definitely not working so well while Cas is staring. “Either. I mean, I don’t have my guitar here, so for now the notebook’s probably easier, but later… if you want…” Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop babbling. “I’ve been told that my rendition of Carry On my Wayward Son isn’t all that bad.” He finally manages to snap his mouth shut.

“I envy you,” Cas shakes himself out of the stare. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar. I was forced to learn the piano, though. So that I could play during mass.”

Now that isn't at all what Dean wanted to hear. His heart sinks, even though he knew Cas couldn’t possibly accept an invitation to hear Dean play. Telling someone you’d like to play for them is about as close as you can get to saying ‘date’ without using the word. So yeah, of course Cas wouldn’t say yes to that.

“I don’t actually play that often or that well,” Dean dismisses his abilities and with them the invitation. “I never got formal lessons. But an old guitar was cheap enough and its re-sale value wasn’t high enough for Dad to take it away.” He shrugs. “Can’t say the same about a piano. Wouldn’t have fit in the Impala, either. So there’s that.”

“Why would it need to fit in the Impala?”

“Because everything we had had to fit in the Impala.” Dean grimaces because saying it is as good as admitting that they’d pretty much been homeless for all of his teenage years. “Wasn’t the most stable childhood,” he attempts to shrug it off.

“I got that,” Cas says quietly. “Want to tell me what happened this morning? Gabriel said you had another panic attack.”

The change of subject is sudden, but Dean guesses that it makes sense. It all comes back to his Dad all the time anyway. He looks down at his hand which has found its way onto his stomach without his consent. With the layers of gauze and brace and t-shirt covering the scar, he can rest his hand lightly on the wound without freaking out about it too much.

“It’s not unusual,” Cas has followed his line of sight, “that the impact of a surgery hits home only a while later. But you’re healing well, your blood values are good, there is no need to worry.”

“It’s not that,” Dean shakes his head. To his credit, Cas stays quiet and let’s Dean think about how he wants to word this. “It’s the scar. It’s always going to be there.”

“It’s not your only scar,” answers Cas.

“No, but the others weren’t really,” Dean falters for a moment before finishing hesitantly, “my fault. Or not as much as this one anyway. I mean they were still my fault. I was a clumsy kid. See, here,” he holds out his right arm, palm up, “on my wrist? Burn mark. From the stove. I was, uhh, eight. And here,” he turns to the other side, “the one that’s cutting across the fingers? Kitchen knife. I was ten, I think. And this one,” he turns his left arm so the elbow can be seen, “football practice. Or that was the story anyway. The other kid didn't want detention either.”

“What about the ones on your back?”

The question comes out of left field for him, so it knocks the air out of Dean.

“I’m your doctor, Dean. It’s my job to notice.”

“Yeah,” Dean says because he knows that that’s true. Doesn’t make it any less awkward or easier to talk about, though.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it was just –“

“My Dad. Those are from my Dad.”

Cas closes his mouth with an audible snap, and for a moment, the ticking of the clock takes over the room. “I’m sorry,” Cas says finally, breaking the spell.

“Don’t be,” Dean clenches his fingers tightly into the blanket. “He had a reason for each of them.”

“You know that that is a load of crap.”

But Dean just shakes his head. “Let it be, Cas. It’s old news anyway.”

“You had a panic attack over the new scar, Dean. So obviously whatever it is, it is not old news.”

He wants to argue against that, but it’s hard to argue against something that is now written down on his medical file. Still, he shakes his head stubbornly. “But he didn’t give me the new scar. I gave that one to myself. Every time I look in the mirror for the rest of my life, I’ll see how much I fucked up.”

Cas only watches him silently, so Dean goes on, “Come on, Cas, that’s not putting myself down, that’s just the truth.”

“Hmm,” Cas says. “It’s one way of looking at the truth. But not my favorite one.”

“And what would be your favorite one, Cas?” Dean snorts.

Not taken aback by Dean’s sarcasm in the slightest, Cas looks him straight in the eye. “That you look in the mirror and say: I hit rock-bottom that day. I hit rock-bottom and I changed my life. I’ve come far since then. I’m happy now.”

“Happy?” Dean echoes.

“Happy,” repeats Cas. “You deserve to be happy, Dean. You’re a good man.”

“Have you even met me?” asks Dean incredulously.

“Yes, Dean, I’ve met you. I see a different person when I look at you than you see yourself.”

“Then what the hell do you see?” Dean asks because honestly, he doesn’t get it. Cas saw him in a coma after driving drunk. That’s about as far away from a good man as you can get.

Cas bites his lip, a moment of insecurity that makes Dean insecure, too. Then Cas says, “I have a confession to make, Dean. I talked to your brother.”

“Umm,” Dean doesn’t know what to answer to this, “okay?”

“Not about - now, or also about now, but mostly about the past. He seemed to think that it was important that I know.”

“He did what?” Dean feels the hair on his neck stand on end.

“He said that you wouldn’t like it that he talked to me. He also said that you had a knack to portray yourself in the most negative light you can find.”

“Well, I ain’t exactly a role-model.”

“That’s not true,” says Cas. “Well, the drunk driving, that is not role-model behavior. But that’s not you. This is you,” he touches the scar on Dean’s right arm. “You burned yourself when you made dinner for your brother and yourself, didn’t you? And here,” he trails the scar that spans Dean’s fingers, “what was that, a sandwich for lunch made just for Sam?”

“Thanksgiving dinner, actually,” Dean says reluctantly. “Dad hadn’t been home in a week. But the receptionist at the motel was nice and gave us a piece of her turkey. We didn’t have a good knife to cut it, though.”

Cas nods solemnly. “And this one?” He taps at Dean’s elbow. “The ‘football’ one?”

“Kid talked shit about beating Sam up. Because he was a geeky theatre kid. Better to nip that kind of thing in the bud.” Dean shrugs.

Cas nods again. “I thought so. This scar? The scars on your back? I’m pretty sure Sam doesn’t have them. Because he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to fight. You protected him. That’s who I see, Dean. Someone who cares and protects.” Cas lays his hand lightly over the scar on Dean’s stomach.

“And this? This is what happens when you take on too much. When you want to protect everyone and forget to protect yourself.”

“I almost killed Benny.”

“Mostly, you almost killed yourself, Dean. Don’t do that again. I wouldn't like it.”

Dean can see that Cas wants to draw him into the half-smile that plays on his face, wants him to take the cue for sharing and bonding and trusting, but Dean feels too raw for that. “I didn’t like it much, either,” he says instead.

Weirdly, that just makes Cas smile wider. “That makes me happy, Dean. Because that’s a good start. The fact that you care. That you don’t want to repeat the experience. That you want to live. It’s worth much more than you can see right now.” When Dean wants shake his head, Cas stops him. “Don’t argue about this with me. I’ve seen it too often. DUI accidents that aren’t actually accidents. Because sometimes, the alcohol kills too slowly. So they want to kill themselves faster. And they don’t care who they take with them.”

Dean wants to cringe away from this, but Cas light touch is enough to keep him in place.

“I’m glad that that’s not you, Dean. I don’t want to see you die.”

Cas says it with so much earnestness that Dean can feel his eyes starting to burn. He looks at Cas, finds the blue of his eyes and holds his gaze, thinking what he can’t say out loud. ‘I’d like to see you grow old, but I wouldn’t want to see you die, either.’ “Why do you care?” he asks instead.

“Have you been listening at all?”

“But…”

“You’re strong, Dean. Much stronger than you give yourself credit for. But Dean, you’re not eight and alone anymore. You don’t have to keep the world together on your own. Your family wants to help. I want to help. Let us help. Please?”

“You’re helping already, Cas,” Dean says because it’s the truth and because it’s something he can share. “More than you can know.”

“Thank you,” Cas says and it’s not what Dean was expecting as an answer. “Thank you for allowing me that.”

Dean shakes his head. “You’re weird sometimes, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that, yes,” Cas smiles. “I hope it’s the good kind of weird, though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it most definitely is.”

Chapter Text

“But in this one there’s this thing with a feather boa and a pair of stockings that was really…”

“No! No, I’m not going to watch Casa Erotica with you! Not with Dean in the room! Pack the DVDs away!”

“Oh come on, he’s sleeping. We’ll put it on silent. It’s almost as much fun on silent. You can make up your own noises. I would love to hear the kind of noises you make…”

“Gabriel Novak, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Very possible, Mr. Milton, very possible.”

“Shouldn’t you at least wait until after the first date?”

“Why?”

“Well, because it’s polite? Also, because my pelvis is broken?”

“Ah, logistics,” Gabe says dismissively.

“No, actually, ouch and hurt and nails in my bones,” replies Balti.

“Mmh, I’m sure I can find ways to work around that…”

“Is that part of your job training?”

“Not so much, no, but I do have talents…” Gabe says dreamily.

“Talents, huh? Will you specify them for me?” Balti chuckles.

“DON’T!” Dean shouts because this is the point of no return and he does not want those images.
“Please, for the sake of God, don’t.”

“Told you,” Balti says. “No privacy in this room.”

“Dean-o,” Gabriel sighs. “You slept through most of the afternoon, you could have slept another ten minutes. Worst. Timing. Ever.”

“Dude, I’m just glad everyone is still dressed.” Then he looks closer at Gabriel. “You’re not wearing scrubs.”

“But I am wearing something,” Gabe smiles and recites mock-earnestly, “From the hospital policy manual: ‘Even after their shift ends, staff are encouraged to wear a full set of clothes at all times.’ Your dinner is on your nightstand by the way. Though that is just a reminder as a friend, as I am currently a private citizen and not your nurse.”

Dean turns around and finds the usual bland food. Next to it lies a pile of chocolate chip cookies, though. “Cookies?”

“Chef’s suggestion.”

“Your doing?”

“Because you did as you promised and talked to my brother.”

Dean regards the cookies for a moment. He guesses that it is a nice gesture. But his stomach is not up to them. “Thanks, Gabe. Want some?”

“Of course I do! Balti wants some, too!” Gabe jumps up and snatches two thirds of the cookies from Dean’s tray. “Here,” he plops them down on Balti’s bed.

“Hey, careful! Crumbs!”

“Crumbs, that reminds me! I need to get the popcorn! I told Jo to put it in the microwave at exactly 7 pm. Because that’s when Cassie gets off his shift. Ha. I correct, it’s when Cassie was supposed to get off his shift, seeing that that was 20 minutes ago. I shall have to go investigate. Catch!”

He throws the remote control at Dean who catches it clumsily.

“Please tell me it’s Dr. Sexy in the DVD player and not Casa Erotica.”

“Jeez, Dean-o, don’t you trust me at all?”

Dean just levels him with an even stare and finally Gabe gives in and throws his hands in the air.

“Fine. I’ll change it.” He changes out the DVDs. “Alright. You load episode 9. Cause we’re starting where Cassie stopped watching. And I’ll go find the popcorn in the meantime. Well, and my brother.” He practically bounces out of the room.

“Don’t. Just don’t,” Dean says before Balti has even opened his mouth. “I will pretend that I was asleep through all of that. Please let me pretend.”

Balti clears his throat and nods. “Casa Erotica is not my style anyway…”

“Don’t. Please, please don’t.” But the image of Gabe with a wide mustache and a sombrero is already there. He sighs. “We should never have let him find out about the telenovela. I bet that’s where he got the idea.”

“As if Gabe needs us to get ideas,” Balti chuckles.

Dean shakes his head and changes from the disc menu to the episode menu. That’s pretty much all there is to do. He looks at his dinner again, completely cold now anyway and decides that the popcorn will make for an adequate replacement. Because he isn’t going to eat this cold sludge.

“Want the last cookie?” he asks Balti.

“Nah, you earned it.”

Dean sighs. “You can’t pretend you didn’t hear that conversation, either, can you?”

“I can if that’s what you want,” shrugs Balti.

Dean thinks about this for a moment. He’d have said yes even a week ago. No one’s supposed to know. Not about his Dad, not about his scars, not about the alcohol. But everyone knows everything here, and strangely, it isn’t awkward or horrible. “Nah, it’s alright. Just don’t make a movie out of it.”

“Hmm. We’ll see,” Balti grins.

“Asshole,” Dean grumbles.

They run out of topics and the endless loop of the title music of Dr. Sexy starts to grate on Dean’s nerves. Why’s Gabe not coming back? Where’s Cas? He tries to stop the little spark of panic that immediately flares up. Cas was held up. It isn’t unusual for a doctor to be held up. It doesn’t mean he’s decided against coming. It doesn’t mean that Dean scared him off with all the crap that’s happened in his life. He doesn’t think Cas scares this easily. Does he? Well, if he does, it’s better to know now. Because what they talked about today is only the tip of the iceberg. There’s a hell of a lot more crap underneath that crap.

Dean sighs. Where are they? He’s been looking forward to video night for days now.

He is pretty sure that he wouldn’t fuck the evening up for Balti and Gabe if he has managed to scare Cas away, but it would suck pretty bad, having to see and hear them flirt all night if Cas is not coming. Actually, he’s not quite sure he could make it through that. Not without either crawling out of his skin or finding a bar, anyway.

He curls his lips and snarls at the thought. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Getting in so deep that anything going wrong needs to be anesthetized with whiskey.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the pain in his chest. It sucks because there is a hole there already, even though he has no idea whether it needs to be there or whether he’s just worrying needlessly. But there it is, gaping like a wound and not one that can be glued with plasma. He breathes deeply and lets his breath fill the hole. It hurts like a physical part has been ripped out of him.

But he doesn’t try to stop it and he doesn’t try to look away. The only way to know that he won’t turn to alcohol the second Cas decides that being around Dean is not a good idea is if he knows that he can bear this pain. So he bears it.

It doesn’t get any better and it doesn’t get any easier. The fear of losing Cas before he even really got to know him, before he ever got to taste his lips, before he got to hold him or wake up next to him or even just tell him how he feels, is deep and dark and it makes all the worst parts of Dean want to come forward.

But he shuts the darkness out and just concentrates on feeling and on breathing and somehow, he’s doing okay. Not well, not by a long shot. But he thinks of Sammy and that he really wants to make burgers for him, because it was their favorite food when they were children. He thinks of Bobby and helping him at the garage. And he thinks, that he can do that. Even with a hole in his heart. It isn’t the only one, anyway. It’ll fit right next to the hole that his Mom left.

“Dean?”

“I told you he was asleep again.”

“I wasn’t…” But the protest dies on his lips because there is Cas, still in his scrubs and with a slightly worried expression, and there is Gabe with a gigantic bowl of popcorn, and Dean has not even heard them come in.

“Found Cassie in the break-room. He was on the phone, but I’m sure he was just trying to snatch the popcorn and throw it out before I could bring it in here.”

“You could at least have gotten salted popcorn instead of the caramelized version. You know it’s unhealthy!”

“But Cassie, I have! Extra for you, here,” he produces a second smaller bowl from inside the bigger one. “Salted popcorn. Balti, you don’t prefer the salted one, do you?”

Gabe looks horrified at the thought and Balti laughs. “Nah, we can leave that to Dean and your brother.”

“How do you know Dean likes salted popcorn? Maybe he wants caramelized popcorn, too?” Gabe asks.

“And thus choose you over your brother? Never,” Balti chuckles.

“Shush, you,” Dean says and to his own surprise he is chuckling, too. “I happen to actually like salted popcorn, so you can stop right there.”

“Good choice,” Cas says.

“Awful choice,” replies Gabe. “But it means more sweets for me, so it’s all good. Balti, make space, here I come. We’ll let the grown-ups figure out the remote.” Without any further ado, he squeezes himself in next to Balti on his bed. “Mind if I steal half the pillow?”

“You do know that there are additional pillows in the closet, right?”

“Yup,” says Gabe with a smirk. “Doubt that I’ll need them, though. Cassie, didn’t you want to find yourself a space, too? It’s going to get uncomfortable after a while, standing in the middle of the room like this. And it’s not like you’re giving us anything to look at, since you refused to wear the cowboy boots.”

Balti chuckles, “You actually tried to make him wear them?”

“I’ll just have to work on that a little longer, he’ll break - eventually,” shrugs Gabe.

Dean wants to laugh at the banter but his mouth is dry again, because yeah, the visitor’s chairs are there, but Gabe is on Balti’s bed and Dean hasn’t thought ahead this far, but maybe, just maybe Cas would be okay with this, too. He doesn’t think he’d have the courage to ask if he hadn’t just done his mental exercise to see whether he can cope with being rejected. But he did. And it hurt but he didn’t break apart. So, worth the try. “Uhh, if you’d like, I’ve, umm, I’ve got enough space here. Only if you want to.” Great. Eloquent. As usual.

Cas looks unsure, frozen in place with his bowl of popcorn.

“Jeez, brother, he ain’t going to bite you. I think anyway. Which reminds me, fun fact: You should only bite or be bitten by another human if he, well, or she is your intimate partner. Because human bacteria are nasty and the bites always get infected. Unless you’re sharing bodily fluids anyway. In that case, you have shared all your bacteria already.”

“How terribly romantic,” chuckles Balti. “Have you tried that one out personally? No, don’t answer that. Tell me instead: What about werewolves?”

“Werewolves are allowed to bite anyone anywhere, as long as the other party consents. But they also sniff everyone’s butts, so that is not necessarily any more hygienic.”

Balti laughs out loud at this, “Met many of them, huh?”

“Hey, they’re better than vampires. Vampires sparkle.” Gabe chuckles and turns back to Castiel. “Come on, brother, make up your mind. You can fidget uncomfortably in the chair all night or you can get over yourself and just accept Dean’s offer. He’s a gentleman. He won’t touch you in any indecent places. Not unless you want it, of course. In which case, I urge you to do any groping under the blanket, so as to not traumatize me.”

“You’re not helping, Gabe,” Dean stops the never-ending chatter because Cas looks like a deer in the headlights. So Dean slides over to one side of his bed, making as much space as he can. “See, enough space. And definitely more comfortable than the chair.”

“He’s also wearing underwear and he is freshly showered,” supplies Gabe helpfully. “I personally made sure of that.”

“Shut it, Gabe,” Cas finally snaps out of his trance and comes to a decision. He hands the salted popcorn to Dean, sits down on the bed, gets rid of his shoes and leans back against the headrest.

“Did you just call me Gabe?” Gabriel asks astonished. “You don’t use nicknames. Not ever.”

“Well, I do now. So stop annoying me.” There is a challenge in his voice that makes Gabriel raise his eyebrows.

“Jeez. Dean, you’re an interesting influence on my brother. If we proceed like this, I think he’ll eventually be able to punch Michael for everything he did, like he’s wanted to do for years now.”

“Michael’s an assbutt. But I don’t care about him anymore,” Cas huffs.

“Yeah right,” Gabriel snickers. “As if you’d ever stop caring.”

Cas just growls at his brother and says, “Can you shut up now so that we can start watching the show?”

“Cassie, I think you are actually human. You are not even behaving the slightest bit like a robot anymore,” says Gabe with an incredulous shake of his head, and Dean commends Cas for his restraint, because he’s pretty sure he’d have chugged some popcorn at Gabe’s head at this point. As it is, Dean just nods and presses play on the remote. He makes a mental note to ask Cas about Michael, though. Because Michael sounds like a dick and he doesn’t like anyone treating Cas badly.

Chapter Text

They settle in to watch the first episode, which is actually the finale of the first season. It’s an okay episode, but Dean has seen it more than once. He doesn’t need to concentrate on it to know what’s happening. So he has enough time to observe Cas, who is leaning back and watching the show, apparently content where he is. If it wasn’t for the fact that his whole body is taut with tension. It’s a statement to how much Dean is obsessing over Cas that he can see the tension in the way his neck muscles shift and the lines of his body are rigid.

Dean glances over to Balti and Gabe, who are munching away at their popcorn, commenting on the show and laughing softly. If he had to make a bet, he’d give them twenty minutes before they’ll be snuggling and perfectly content in each other’s arms. Couldn’t be more different on his own side of the room.

He observes silently for a few more minutes, but it doesn’t seem like Cas is relaxing at all. He isn’t really even watching the show, because he misses the cues to laugh until Gabe and Balti start laughing.

Dean frowns and debates what to do. He doesn’t want the evening to be awkward. “Popcorn?” he finally asks and holds the bowl out to Cas.

“Oh, thanks, sure.” The words are accompanied by a fleeting smile but Dean has the distinct impression that Cas is stuck inside his own head and doesn’t even really see Dean.

“You okay there?” he inquires.

“What? Yeah, sure.” But the faraway look is still there.

“A-ha,” Dean says slowly. He keeps his voice quiet, because he doesn’t want to alert the others, and he doesn’t lean closer to Cas, either. He’s pretty sure if he said ‘BOO!’ right now, Cas would jump through the roof. And that’s not like him at all. “Cas?” he tries again.

A quick glance and a mumbled, “Yeah?”

“You didn’t actually take any of the popcorn.”

“Oh.” At least he focuses long enough to stick his hand in the bowl and take out a few pieces. He sticks them in his mouth, but Dean isn’t sure that he’s actually tasting what he’s eating.

The weird thing is, if Cas is this uncomfortable being on the bed, he could just have taken the chair. So he wanted to be here, right? Dean shakes his head. This makes no sense. But he can’t let it go, either, because Dean can’t concentrate on the show and if he doesn’t do anything, he’ll just get nervous and panicky. He needs to figure it out.

He observes Cas openly now, because he doesn’t think Cas will notice much. When the master of staring into your soul gives you only sidelong glances, something is severely off.

Then it hits him and he wants to slap his palm against his forehead because it is so obvious. Cas is freaking out because he is out of his depth with this thing. He doesn’t even allow first names, for God’s sake. Where Gabe is like a fish in the water snuggling up to Balti and watching his favorite show, Cas doesn’t even know the show beyond what Gabe made him watch and Cas definitely doesn’t snuggle up to patients. This is a rebellion and he’s started it but now the impact of what he’s done is hitting him.

Dean can empathize with that. He’s out of his depth with Cas, too.

Only, whenever Dean is out of his depth and freaking out about it, Cas manages to ground him.

A small touch. A warm smile.

Cas had never needed to be reassured until now. He’s always been Cas, the doctor. A role that fits him like a glove. But now, even though the scrubs are still on, he’s a rebel in socks. He’s freaking out because this is unfamiliar territory and it’s crossing every line Cas has ever set for himself in his job.

Dean gets it. He really does. But he doesn’t think it has to be this way. Cas can ground Dean. Maybe Dean can ground Cas, too. ‘Come on, Winchester, don’t be a coward. Help him out like he’d help you out.’

He takes a deep breath, reaches over the few inches that separate them and squeezes Cas’ hand. “Relax, Cas. It’s just a video night. It’s not the end of the world.”

It gets him attention at least, so he guesses that’s a success. Cas looks down at their joined hands and then up at Dean.

Immediately, Dean lets go, and holds up both of his hands, palms out, to show that the touch was to get Cas’ attention and not an attempt to copy Gabe and Balti. “It’s alright, Cas,” he repeats. “This rebellion doesn’t need anything but being here. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Cas stares at Dean, head slightly tilted, as if he’s not quite sure what Dean is saying. Or as if he’s not quite sure what he’s feeling. It’s just in Cas’ eyes and the slight quivering around his mouth, but to Dean it looks like there are a lot of conflicting emotions going on.

Yeah, Dean gets that, too. Getting ripped out of your comfort zone is never fun. Not even if it’s your own doing. So he waits patiently for Cas to regain his balance. ‘I’m here, Cas. You can lean on me, too,’ he tries to say with his eyes what he can’t say out loud.

Cas keeps staring and there is a smile blossoming on Dean’s face as he watches Cas, because this is Cas rebelling and Dean is a part of it and that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He knows all the affection he feels for Cas will show in the lines of his mouth and the way his eyes light up and they will betray everything he feels, but he can’t stop himself. In this moment, he doesn’t really care, either. “I’m here, Cas. I’ve got you.”

Belatedly, he notices that this time he has said his thoughts out loud, because Cas’ eyes widen in response. The familiar feeling of a blush is creeping up his neck. He doesn’t want to apologize, though, because it’s true. So he just shrugs sheepishly and repeats, “I’m here. If you want me.”

And that came out way more forward than he had planned. Oh God. There is very little chance to misinterpret this one. Dean’s heart is suddenly beating hard in his chest and his smile falters because he might just have fucked all of this up.

The fear must be noticeable on his face, because a steep frown appears on Cas’ forehead and he raises his hand, as if to run it through Dean’s hair. But he aborts the movement at the last second, frozen in midair, insecurity lining all his features.

Then there is a visible swallow, a setting of his jaw and Cas holds out his hand, palm up, open and inviting.

Does that mean what Dean thinks it means? He looks for clues in Cas’ face and his smile is on edge, like he is nervous, but his eyes don’t waver from Dean’s. So Dean very gently lays his own hand on top of Cas’ and Cas exhales a silent sigh. He threads his fingers through Dean’s and holds them tight.

***

They are deep into the first half of Season 2, and Dean has still barely wrapped his mind around this. Cas’ hand is warm in his and even though they’re both watching the screen, there is a connection there, both physical and something that feels deeper than that. The butterflies in his stomach are back full force and he feels light and grounded at the same time. Pure joy is the only expression Dean knows for it.

And that’s weird, because holding hands was never a big thing for Dean. It was always a means to an end. Hold a girl’s hand and you might be allowed to get a hand under her shirt, too. He knew that the girls felt different about it, or at least some of them, but he never really got why. Why it was so important to them.

He gets it now. He wants to belong to Cas and for Cas to belong to him. And in this simple gesture, fingers threaded together, lies all of that. Yes, holding hands has definitely never felt this good.

He steals another glance at Cas, fully aware that he hasn’t actually got anything of what has been happening on the show for most of the night. But hey, he knows all of this. And yeah, before Cas, he’d have looked at Izzie Stevens because she’s hot. Now he kind of just wishes she’d get her act together and Karev would get over himself and stop the macho-manliness and just be with her. But he already knows how this story ends, so yeah, stealing glances at Cas and radiating in the peace and happiness of having him close – so much better than the show.

Cas is mostly focused on the TV, and he seems to be enjoying it. Dean is pretty sure that Cas sometimes mumbles the medical terms before they ever say them on the show. It is amazing to watch how Cas’ expressions change, too, now that he isn’t guarding them. He worries with Izzie and likes Christina’s snark. He disapproves of the Dr. Sexy and his ex-wife situation. And he roots unabashedly for Bailey.

Dean thinks if the smile on his own face got any wider, it’d start to hurt. He almost opens his mouth to tell Cas, to tell him – everything maybe, or maybe just that he has the most expressive face in the world, or maybe that it’s adorable how he frowns at the residents just to grin widely when Bailey shouts at them. But Cas looks so happy, so content, that Dean doesn’t want to disturb that. So he just keeps sneaking glances and enjoys the feeling of Cas’ hand in his.

“Hey, you have to look at the show and not at me. It’s disturbing and I can’t concentrate,” Balti complains loud enough that even Dean can't ignore it. He snickers silently. It’s not as if he hasn't looked at Cas instead of at the show for most of the night. He just didn’t get caught.

“But I know everything that will happen. What I don’t know is how you will react to it,” Gabe answers, also way too loudly for Dean’s peaceful mood.

Balti sighs, “You are unbelievable.”

“That's why you love me!”

There is a long and loaded silence after that. A silence that gets worse with every second that ticks by.

Dean sighs. Too much, too soon, throwing the word love out there just like this. Gabe should know better. Still, he is in need of some rescuing and Dean can comply. He won’t do it any more gently than Gabe would, though. “Hey, you two lover boys over there, there are other people in the room, too, who happen to want to watch this show. So if you could declare your love a little more quietly or maybe even turn your attention back to the show, that would be very welcome.”

“Oh, you are just jealous,” comes the immediate and somewhat relieved reply from Gabriel.

“No dice, Gabe. I’m good,” Dean replies and only then notices that Cas is looking at him. The familiar blush is never far away but he doesn’t try to hide his smile. Because he doesn’t have to. Because he’s allowed to show Cas how much he likes him. “I’m more than good, actually.”

There is such warmth in Cas’ eyes and so much affection that Dean feels like he’s glowing from the inside. His eyes drop to Cas’ lips, which look soft and inviting, especially when Cas’ tongue darts out to wet them. But when Dean looks back up, there is a spark of insecurity in Cas’ eyes that keeps Dean from leaning in.

“You are no fun, Dean-o,” Gabriel says and the moment is gone.

“Watch what you’re saying, little brother,” Cas turns his head to Gabe even while squeezing Dean’s hand, “no one insults Dean on my watch.”

“Hear, hear,“ Balti chuckles.

For a moment Gabriel seems caught off guard. “Oh. Is that how it is? Then, well, sorry Cassie. I will let you watch your new favorite show with your favorite patient and declare my love quietly.” It doesn’t even sound all that sarcastic.

Dean shakes his head because Gabe being too dumbfounded for snark is a new one. One that would fit right into the show. So maybe this really is an alternative version of Dr. Sexy.

He kind of hopes that the patients get the doctors in this one.

***

It is around the midseason finale, that he notices that Cas’ eyes begin to droop. He perks up for the whole Izzie and Denny thing, but his eyes close for ever longer periods of time in between. Dean never liked Denny much, though he can’t really give a reason why. But it’s the one storyline that Cas still follows. For a while anyway. Then even Denny Duqette and his failing heart can’t hold Cas’ attention anymore. Well, they have been at this for, uhh, way too long. And Dean’s been sleeping away most of the afternoon, Cas hasn’t. And yeah, because he just wants the whole Denny storyline to be over with already, Dean watches Cas fall asleep instead.

“MMhmpf,” Cas mumbles when he opens his eyes a crack and catches Dean looking at him.

Dean chuckles softly. “It’s alright, Cas, just sleep.”

Cas sighs deeply at this and rolls over on his side. He moves Dean’s arm so he can curl into Dean and his head ends up on Dean’s shoulder. Dean lays his arm around Cas’ back and then doesn’t dare to move so that he doesn’t break the spell. But Cas just mumbles something else that is completely incoherent, smiles and buries his nose into Dean’s shirt.

Cas is so close that Dean can smell his hair. It smells likes flowers and honey.

He probably should wake him up. He doubts that Cas has planned to stay here overnight. He probably wants to go home and sleep in his own bed. But instead, Dean just holds Cas a little tighter and buries his own nose in Cas’ hair. Cas seems peaceful enough. He’s fast asleep anyway. Waking him up now would only be cruel.

Yeah, admittedly, it’s a bit selfish, too, because Dean doesn’t want to let go. He pulls the blanket over Cas’ legs and Cas sighs softly and contentedly and Dean thinks that, yeah, this is how every day should end. With Cas curled up into him, the two of them so close that it’s virtually impossible to figure out where one of them ends and the other begins.

That’s what he wants. That’s what he wants in his life.

Chapter Text

“If you could only see them, Balti.”

“You are taking pictures and I am able to see them.”

“But they are adorable! And you only get half of the picture. Your vision is very limited in your bedridden state.”

“Whatever you say. But... didn't you want to wake them up?”

“Ah... yes, there was that. RISE AND SHINE!!!!” Gabriel shouts gleefully.

Dean opens his eyes a crack. “I was already waking up, Gabe!”

“But Cas wasn't,” shrugs Gabe.

Cas starts moving and it’s only then that Dean notices that Cas is still cuddled into his side. It felt so natural that he wasn’t even consciously aware of it.

But now Cas is moving and straightening away from him to stretch. He arches his back like a cat, and Dean can’t help but follow the movement with his eyes, even though he feels the loss of Cas’ warmth. “Morning, Cas,” he smiles.

“Is this how he wakes you every morning?” Cas asks and his voice is a little husky.

Dean smiles. “Pretty much.” He likes Cas’ morning voice.

“Hey, you are supposed to be the morning person here! No complaining!” Gabriel retorts.

Cas shakes his head and turns around to face his brother. “Not after a Dr. Sexy marathon.... How late is it anyway?”

“You have 15 minutes. I figured you wanted to change into new scrubs before your shift starts. Am I or am I not the best brother in the world?”

“15 minutes! Gabriel! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” Cas sounds upset and he is out of bed in a second.

Dean immediately wants him back. But if he was to ask him 'Stay' right now, he’s pretty sure he’d be adding a 'forever'. Bad idea, probably.

“Because you two were too sweet,” Gabriel answers with a smile, and while he walks over to Balti he adds, “But you know what, you two got nothing on us, because this is how you do it right.”

He leans over to Balti and kisses him deeply.

The change in Cas is immediate and frightening. “Gabriel,” he admonishes, “behave yourself.”

He makes a move as if to insert himself bodily between Gabe and Balti, but Gabriel stops kissing and looks up at his brother. He is still hovering only inches above Balti, though. “Want to say that again?” he asks slowly and dangerously.

“Stop that and behave yourself,” Cas repeats flatly.

“Or what?” Gabe asks with a level stare.

Balti looks at him worriedly but Gabriel just takes his hand, the gesture and the claim it’s laying on Balti unmistakable.

It isn’t lost on Cas, either, because his eyes narrow and a quiet fury takes over his features. “You behave like a spoiled child, Gabriel.”

“And you sound like fucking Michael,” Gabriel’s voice is ice-cold now, the same fury showing on his face.

“Don’t you dare lecturing me on fucking Michael,” Cas bares his teeth in a snarl. “Not when you obviously haven’t spared a single thought on how inappropriate and inconsiderate you are.”

“Inappropriate? Inconsiderate? Is that what I am?” Gabriel repeats coldly.

“He’s your patient, Gabriel! Your male patient.”

“Well, and Dean is yours!”

“I did not kiss Dean!”

“Well you should have!”

“I do not play games, Gabriel.”

“Well, neither do I,” shouts Gabe.

There is a stunned silence after this.

Finally, it is Gabriel who speaks again, “Do you want to tell me what exactly your problem is here, brother? Because I have a feeling it isn’t hospital rules.”

“Gabriel,” Cas’ anger seems to be falling in on itself but Gabriel is still poised for attack, his body leaned forward to cover as much of Balti as possible.

“What is it you want to say? That I’m a player? That I’ll never change? Is that it?”

“Well, you are…,” Cas replies weakly.

“And so you prove that you are like Michael after all,” Gabriel spits, the tone as close to disgust as Dean has ever heard on him, “oblivious to yourself and oblivious to everyone around you.”

Cas apparently has no answer for that, because he just stands there, frozen.

“Get out,” Gabriel hisses. “Cause I’m not leaving Balti alone with you. Not when you’re like this. I’ve made this mistake once. I’m not making it again.”

“That wasn’t me,” protests Cas.

“Get out!”

This time, there is no protest. Cas just stalks out and slams the door behind him.

Gabriel lets out a shaky breath as soon as his brother is gone and sinks down on the edge of the bed. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Honey, you’re shaking,” Balti says worriedly and takes Gabe’s hand.

“I’m so sorry for you, too, Dean. He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mean anything he just said. This is not about you.”

Only when Gabe addresses him does Dean notice that he’s shaking, too. He’s also freezing and he’s pretty sure there is no blood left in his face. It’s all drained out of him.

“Please, Dean, don’t hold it against him. It’s how we were brought up. It’s about who he wants to be and who he can’t be. He doesn’t mean it.”

“Shh, honey, shh,” Balti tries to calm him down. “You’re making very little sense right now. I think it was you who fought with your brother, not Dean.”

“Yeah, it was but… You know that I love you, right, Balti?” There is a desperation in Gabriel’s voice that is so untypical for him that Balti gets worried enough to try to sit up. He doesn’t get very far of course. “No, don’t do that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Just tells us,” Balti pleads. “We’ll listen. But please start somewhere at the beginning.”

“Tell me first,” Gabe insists. “You know that I’m in love with you, right? That I’m not using you.”

“I know that,” Balti answers. “I know that, Gabe. Please, you’re scaring me.”

“Alright,” Gabe breathes, “alright.” He sighs and rubs his face. Then he takes another long breath.

“A childhood story then. From Cassie’s and my past. You know that we were raised by our brother Michael. Or well, Balti, you know, I have no idea how much Cassie told you, Dean. He doesn’t talk about our childhood. Not ever, as far as I’m aware. Anyway, our father left when we were very young. Just – poof. Disappeared. And we are – we were a very traditional family. And I mean very traditional. A family, in which every role was clear. God has the position at the top, then come the men, then come the women, then come the children. That’s why our mother was not allowed to raise us alone. Because every family needs a head of household. A man.” He shakes his head, the memory obviously painful. “It is shameful, in a community like that, being left by your husband. It is impossible to get divorced. So there couldn’t be a new man in mother’s life. Hence, Michael stepped in. Michael. Michael is…”

“A dick,” supplies Dean quietly.

“Yeah. A conservative intolerant dick,” agrees Gabriel. “Since we had already been shamed once, he dedicated his life to avoiding more shame on our family. He forced us to go to church several times a week. To wear proper clothes all the time. Button-downs and slacks that weren’t supposed to get dirty. That cat story I told you, Dean? Michael was on a business trip in Alabama for a few weeks. It wouldn’t have happened if he had been there. Michael is good at forcing people to do what he wants.”

“Not you, I think,” Dean says. When Gabriel looks at him with raised eyebrows, Dean shrugs. “Cas told me about that part. About you being the rebel of the family.”

“Did he tell you how I rebelled?”

Dean shakes his head.

There is a sad smile on Gabe’s face and he doesn’t sound proud of his actions. “I did what I could to destroy of all Michael’s hard work in the only way I knew how. I acted out. I got charged with public indecency several times. I seduced the children of the most upright members of church. I didn’t care much about whether it was a boy or a girl. I only cared about how much it hurt Michael.”

He looks at Dean and if Dean didn’t know better he’d think Gabe wanted his forgiveness for what he says next.

“I never saw how much I hurt Cassie, too. How he had to bear the brunt of my wrong-doings. How he had to make up for all of them.” He sighs. “So when Cassie says that I’m a player, that’s what he means. He thinks that I fuck everything that moves.”

He looks at Balti and meets his gaze head on. “It’s not true, though. That’s not me anymore. I did my rebellion. I got out. I’m just me now. And me wants you,” he gives him a crooked smile, that is so vulnerable and so full of hope that it could break a man’s heart. “I should have left home much earlier than I did. I should have left after Kali.”

“Is that the one you shouldn’t have left alone with Michael?” Balti inquires softly.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Gabe says but doesn’t explain any further. Instead he looks up at Dean again.

“The other thing I should have done is listen to Cassie. Pay attention to him instead of just fighting my own fights. I didn’t see it. I didn’t see how much he suffered because of Michael. Because of Michael’s beliefs. I didn’t see,” he sighs again. “I thought Cassie just wasn’t all that interested in relationships. Not that he thought he couldn’t have any because he was going to be damned for all eternity for what he wanted.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to this. He knows about rebellion and he even knows about damnation, but he’s pretty sure the things he’ll be damned for have nothing to do with falling in love with another guy. There is one thing, though, that he can tell Gabe. “He still came to you. When he left home. He came to you. So you did something right.”

There is a moment of silence. “Maybe,” Gabe finally admits. “I try to make up for it as well as I can. In that spirit: He isn’t like that anymore, Dean. He isn’t some bigoted prick. Please believe me. Don’t be scared off. He knows who he is. He just doesn’t know how.”

“He’s not had a real relationship, has he?” Balti asks.

“Depends on what you mean with a real relationship,” Gabe shrugs. “I can tell you that I’ve never seen him like this. Dean, you can’t know this, but you’ve already done him a world of good. And he’s, God, Dean, I have no idea whether he’s even admitting it to himself, but he’s in love with you. He’s so fucking in love with you.”

And suddenly a remnant of his usual wide smile breaks through, “I want to give him a cookie every time, he talks to you, too. As a reward for being brave and facing his demons.” Then his smile falters. “I’m sorry for ruining shit.”

“He’s going to come around,” Balti says with emphasis.

“You can’t know that,” Gabe and Dean say almost simultaneously.

“Yeah, I can. Am I the only one who has actually watched the show all night? It’s the only way that makes sense from a story-telling perspective!”

“We’re not in a story, Balti.”

“Of course we are! I fell off the roof and into Dr. Sexy! I tell you!”

A knock on the door gets their attention and Dean recognizes Pamela Barnes right away when she enters the room.

“Good morning, guys!” she greets them with a smile. “Breakfast is here!” She shoots a look at Gabriel, who is still holding Balti’ hand and she shakes her head. “No breakfast for you, Gabriel Novak. And you better not do this when Meg is here.”

Gabe grins sheepishly. “If that's the only problem, I can deal with that.”

“I figure your video night was a full success then,” Pamela answers and now Gabriel laughs and it's good to hear it again. Dean has actually missed it, the ease that always surrounds Gabe, though right now he is not sure if Gabriel isn't hiding behind it.

“That is one way to put it, Pam,” he says and looks at Balti. “I should probably get home and get some sleep. I will be back at night. Meanwhile, you are in good hands. I made sure of that.”

“Gabriel, please,” Pamela rolls her eyes.

“Hey, you took the deal, Pam.”

Now it’s Pamela’s turn to laugh. “And as long as the cake keeps coming, I’ll make sure Meg doesn’t have a reason to enter this room.”

“Yeah about that. Keep an eye on my brother, too, okay?”

Pam’s eyebrows rise.

“Hey, just a precaution.” Gabriel shrugs as if it’s no big deal and keeps his wide smile but when he looks at Balti the worry in his eyes is barely hidden behind it.

“I can stand my own, Gabe, don’t worry about me.”

The two exchange a long look and there is a whole conversation somewhere in there that Dean can’t decipher. But finally, Gabe sighs and nods, accepting whatever Balti is trying to convey.

“I look forward to seeing you tonight,” Balti says, his smile big again.

“I look forward to seeing you, too,” Gabe replies, before he turns to Dean. “Keep your head up, Dean-o. You will see, everything will be alright.”

“And which Gabe is saying that? The one with the perpetual smile or the other one?” Dean says.
It isn’t fair maybe, but after this morning, Gabe’s permanent ‘it’ll be alright’-s sound somewhat fake.

Gabriel sighs. “They are both me, okay? And yes, I really believe that everything will be alright. Here, I can send you the reason why. Give me your phone number.”

“Why?” Dean asks suspiciously.

“Just give me your number, grumpy-head.”

“Just do it,” Balti grins. “He’s already sent me what he’s going to send you and believe me, it’s worth it.”

Dean gives in then, because he has no chance against the both of them. He fishes his cell out of the nightstand, where it mostly lies forgotten, unless he remembers to charge it. Everyone he knows comes visiting anyway and doesn’t need to call.

Gabe types quickly on his phone. Then he presses a button enthusiastically. “Okay, sent once. And one moment, sent twice. Don’t look at it until I’m out of the room, though,” he chuckles.

“Well, Gabriel, then go,” Pamela shoos him out of the room. “Some of us have work to do here. Others have to sleep so that they’ll be ready for their nightshift.”

“Yes, Ma'am! Until later, bedridden folks!” he says and walks out of the room waving like the Queen of England herself.

“I really don't know how he manages to keep his job,” Pamela says and smiles at Dean.

“Yeah, that's a mystery for me, too.”

“Hey, he is good at his job, so don't you two talk about my boyfriend like that!” Balti interrupts and Dean shoots him a look.

“Boyfriend?” Dean’s eyebrows rise.

“Boyfriend,” Balti agrees with a satisfied smile and a nod.

“Guys, I hate to interrupt the show, but I do have other patients. So, you,” Pam points at Balti, “start eating your breakfast, I’ll be coming to you in a minute. And you –,“ she points at Dean, “trip to the bathroom and then thrombosis shot.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean hurries to comply.

“Please, Pamela is fine. I know Dr. Novak doesn't approve of the first name basis, but he’s the only one who cares. Well, Meg cares, too. Though I’ve always got the impression she only cares because he doesn’t like it.”

Now Dean doesn’t like that statement. “And why’s that exactly?”

It might have come out a bit harsh, but he doesn’t like the thought of Meg and Cas agreeing on anything. He likes the sudden thought of them sitting in a break-room somewhere even less, the both of them talking softly about appropriate conduct. He imagines Meg leaning forward and laying her hand on Cas’ and he can’t stop the growl emanating from his throat.

Pam regards him steadily. “Aha. I see why Gabriel wanted to make sure that Meg and you don’t end up in a room alone.”

“So he didn’t even think of me, huh?” Balti complains. “It’s not like Demon-Meg is any gentler with me than with him. She thinks I’m a half-wit and a child.”

“Demon-Meg? I think I need to have a talk with Gabriel.” She shakes her head. “Mr. Winchester? On we go.”

“It’s Dean,” Dean answers and sits up.

“Alright, Dean, off to the bathroom we go.”

It takes a while, getting through Dean’s morning routine and then through Balti’s. But Pam is nice and efficient and Dean has no complaints. Well, no complaints apart from the fact that it’s been an hour since Cas stormed off and he still has no idea what to make of it.

If Cas believes that being gay is a sin – does that make Dean the devil who is trying to tempt him? But then, Gabe said Cas doesn’t believe this anymore. That he’s okay with who he is and what he wants.

What he wants.

That thought makes Dean’s stomach constrict and he isn’t sure whether it is pain or hope. Because as painful as the morning was, last night gave him hope. Hope that Cas doesn’t only want a guy, but that Cas wants him. Unless of course he thinks what he wants will end him in hell.

Dean sighs.

His thoughts are going in circles again. There is no way to answer any of this without asking Cas. So that’s what he’s going to do. He’s somehow going to find the courage to ask him when he sees him the next time. Whenever that is. Somehow he thinks it might be a while before Cas has got himself together enough to come back.

“Do you think I got him into trouble?” Balti asks and interrupts Dean’s thoughts.

”By saying he’s your boyfriend or by being his boyfriend?” Dean asks.

“Ha ha,” Balti says. “Not amusing.”

Dean chuckles. “I thought it amusing. But if you’re asking me whether you think he’s going to get reprimanded, well, probably. But I doubt that anything Pam can say will hit as hard as what Cas said.”

“Yeah,” Balti sighs.

“For what it’s worth, I believe Gabe. That he’s in love with you,” Dean says.

Balti gives him a lopsided smile. “I believe him, too. About Cas being in love with you.”

Dean just grimaces at that. He has too many conflicting feelings about this one.

“You alright there, Dean?”

He sighs and tries to put words to his feelings. “It’s just complicated. I – I want to believe him, too.” He has to push the words out because they sound like self-delusion to him, only they are what he feels, “I do believe that he feels something for me. I just don’t know whether that’s going to be enough. And I…”

“You’re scared what’s going to happen if it falls apart,” Balti states quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees with a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Not sure that that’s any help, but you’re not alone. Both on the counts of, you’re not alone if anything happens. We’ll be there. We’ll help. And not alone in being scared.”

“You’re scared?” Dean asks surprised.

Balti laughs. “I’m scared shitless, Dean. Gabe is a whirlwind, no, a hurricane, and I’m not sure anyone can hold him in one place for very long. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll take what I can get, but…” He shrug helplessly.

Dean leans back against his pillows. “So we’re both thinking that we’re not good enough.”

“Seems like it,” Balti answers.

“I’d say let’s drink to that but I’m pretty sure that’s not a good idea,” Dean laughs.

Balti raises an eyebrow. “Did you just make a joke about your addiction?”

“Pretty sure I did,” Dean nods.

“Is that a good sign or a bad?”

“You tell me,” Dean shrugs. But then, the joke had been a joke. It hadn’t actually been accompanied by an urge to go find a drink. So he’ll count it as a win anyway.

“I tell you that you should look at your phone,” Balti replies. “If you were thinking of a drink, I’m pretty sure Gabe’s message will make you forget all about that.”

“Oh, right.” Dean grabs his phone and flicks to the new messages.

It’s a picture and a short message.

Unknown: I’m sending this to both of you. So that you can both see what we see. Get your act together you morons.

The picture is a headshot of Cas and Dean. Cas’ head is nuzzled into Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s features are relaxed and a small smile is playing on his lips. Cas’ expression is calm and peaceful. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever liked a picture this much.

“And?” Balti asks. “What do you say?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Yeah, this will help.”

Because whatever his mind tells him, this picture is proof. He looks at Cas’ content expression again. Yeah. He isn’t making this up. He has no idea whether this moment can be translated to forever, but at least in this moment Cas was happy. Cas was happy when he was with Dean. There is visual proof.

So if Dean wants this, if Dean is going to fight for this, it’s not purely selfish. He can make Cas happy. He’ll fight for that.

Chapter Text

After breakfast their talk moves to less heavy topics. It's like they have a silent agreement to take some time to recover before tackling issues again.

Dean tells Balti about that one time when Sammy and he dressed up as Superman and Batman (of course he got to be Batman) and he convinced his brother that he could fly. Balti tells him about how he met Kevin after a cello concert he was dragged to by his little sister Anna, who he obviously adores, but who he hasn't seen since he moved away from his hometown. He also tells him that he would kill for a pizza right now and Dean can only agree on the matter.

Pamela comes by and checks up on them and Dean decides that he likes her. Though somehow he misses the fun facts.

When Pam is taking their breakfast trays and getting ready to leave, Balti asks her. “Is Gabe alright?”

“Gabe? Huh?”, Pamela asks and raises an eyebrow but she answers nevertheless. “Of course Gabriel is alright. He always is. He is our little trickster and we all love him and no one would hurt him. He just needs a friendly reminder every so often how to behave in the adult world.”

Balti lets out a relieved sigh and Pamela pats his shoulder.

“There, there. You really don't have to worry about him, he wouldn't want that. You should concentrate on getting better.”

“I am not sure whether there’s actually anything I can do to make my pelvis heal faster,” Balti states dryly.

Pamela laughs. “Gabriel was right. You are funny.”

“So he talks about me?” Balti blatantly fishes for information.

“You’re not getting any details from me, but yes.” Then she chuckles. “You should have heard the discussions yesterday about whether it was worth risking the cake to come in and check on what was actually going on in this room. In the end, it was decided that nothing is worth risking Gabriel’s cakes, but it was a close call. You don’t by any chance want to tell me what happened?”

Balti grins widely. “A video night. But I’m sure you were aware of that.”

Pamela laughs. “Yeah, I was. Ah well, it was worth the try. I’ll console myself with my very own Gabriel-baked-cake. Which I’m not going to tell the other nurses about by the way. They’d just try to steal it. And I’m pretty sure that’s the fastest way to alert Dem – I mean, to alert Meg to all the stuff that’s happening behind her back.”

They all chuckle at Pam’s blunder, but she shrugs it off. “Honestly, Gabriel’s cake is worth every risk. Get him to bake some for you. It's going to be the best thing you have ever tasted.”

“No way in hell is any cake better than pie,” Dean replies, because all the talk about cake has reminded him that he hasn't had a decent pie in forever.

“Oh, no worries. He bakes pies, too,” Pamela winks and leaves the room.

“So you are more of a pie person?” Balti asks.

“Yup,” Dean agrees. “Apple pie is the best thing on the planet.” Well, after Cas maybe.

“Wrong. Strawberry pie is the best.”

“Dude, you have no taste buds at all.” But then, the best apple pie he’s ever tasted is the one his Mom made. So Balti is at a distinct disadvantage there.

They discuss the matter of pies for a while longer, but it’s clear that they won’t agree on this one, so after a while they decide to agree to disagree and watch TV.

They’re somewhere in the middle of Law and Distraction when Dean feels the lack of sleep pulling at him. He figures that it would be okay to sleep for a while. He closes his eyes and his mind wanders to the smell of honey and eyes blue as the sea and the sky. He concentrates on the good things that have happened and to his own surprise it works. He drifts into sleep with a smile on his face.

***

He gets woken by Pamela for lunch and eats without enthusiasm. He misses hamburgers and chicken wings. But of course what he gets is leafy-greens. Sammy would approve, that's for sure.

After lunch, Balti works on another crossword puzzle and Dean is slowly getting antsy. He could of course just call for Cas but he has no idea whether Demon-Meg is already back from whatever wedding she’s attended. He doesn’t want him in trouble. Also, he doesn’t even know whether Cas wants to talk to him right now.

Because whatever Gabe believes, maybe he did mean everything he said. Maybe this is a bigger problem than Dean thought. Even if Gabriel is completely right and this has nothing to do with Dean, Cas has avoided coming in on his usual morning round. Yeah, Pam took their vitals and it’s Sunday and whatnot, but the observation that Cas would have come by at least once by now stands.

“…inappropriate…”

“…your male patient…”

“I did not kiss Dean!”

The words still echo in his ears and he just can’t shake it off.

No, Cas didn’t kiss him. Actually, the one time they’d come close to that, Dean had picked up on Cas’ hesitance and not pursued the issue. Maybe he should have. Maybe that was his one chance to find out what Cas’ lips taste like. He sighs. But no. Cas wasn’t into it. So any kiss would have tasted like force. That’s no good. He won’t do anything against Cas’ will.

But God, he wishes Cas would make up his mind. Last night, Dean was the happiest person on the planet. Today, he is on the brink of losing everything again. This rollercoaster ride is awful. And the only person he wants to talk about this with, is Cas. And he can’t. Because Cas is the reason for the rollercoaster ride in the first place. Dammit, this is making his head hurt. As if it wasn’t bad enough how much his heart hurts.

He takes the cell phone again and looks at the picture Gabe took. He should be upset with him, breaking into his privacy like this and snapping pictures while he is asleep. But he really can’t be.

Because there is a smiling Cas, content and happy. That is better. That is much better.

He wonders if Gabe took more than one shot. Because if he did, Dean wants the photos. That way, if Cas really decides that there is no place for Dean in his life, then at least he has something physical to hold onto. Something to prove that he didn’t make this up in his coma.

He doesn’t know whether it’s going to be enough late at night, when he fights to stay in bed and not get up and drive to the 24 hour liquor store that he knows is only 10 minutes from Bobby’s house. But it’s going to be better than nothing.

The knock on the door startles him and for a split-second he thinks he has somehow summoned Bobby with his thoughts about the liquor store near his place, but it’s his brother who enters the room.

Right, Sam said he was going to be back on Sunday. Now that’s the kind of distraction Dean needs.

“Hey Sammy!” he smiles widely.

Then a blonde girl enters the room behind his brother. She’s tall. She’s got to be because she looks almost normal size next to his giant brother, and he doesn’t know another girl that has ever managed that feat. She’s also gorgeous, just as promised. Long hair that falls in soft waves, immaculate outfit. He knows who she is, of course. There is only the one logical conclusion.

“Hi Dean,” Sam smiles and takes the girl’s hand.

Dean tries his best to keep his smile wide, but the way the girl immediately narrows her eyes, she knows that it’s fake. “You must be Jess I assume?”

“Yes, that's Jess, my fiancée,” Sam provides and he looks so proud when he looks at her, like he can still hardly believe it’s the truth.

“Congratulations again,” Dean says and it’s not enough, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what else he could say to this woman.

“Thank you, it's nice to meet you, Dean,” Jess says politely.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean mumbles.

“I’ve told Jess so much about you already!” Sam exclaims. “I’m so glad she could make it and come to Kansas. I really wanted the two of you to meet.”

Jess looks uncomfortable at that and Dean thinks he has a good idea why.

“Jess flew in yesterday. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to feel, you know, pressured or anything. I got her from the airport at noon and we went to Bobby’s and I showed her our old hide-out at…”

Dean kind of drowns out Sam’s chatter and concentrates on Jess. He can’t get a good read on her. She still has a polite smile on her face, but he’s pretty sure that she didn’t come because she wanted to meet Dean. She came because she wanted to be close at the inevitable moment when Dean fucks up and all of Sam’s hopes are smashed to pieces.

Jess narrows her eyes even further and takes a half step in front of Sam when she notices Dean studying her. Yeah. He’s reading her right. She’s ready to protect his brother. Well, he can respect that.

Sam has reached a lull in his story or maybe this is a spot where Dean should have answered something, but he can’t recall what Sam said. “Sorry, Sammy,” he shrugs. “But I guess we’ve got to get this out of the way one way or another. Do you want to be in the room for that?” He turns to Jess. “Do you want him in the room for that?”

“Dean, what in the…?”

“He can stay,” Jess talks right over Sam. “Sam knows my opinion.”

So she got his meaning and doesn’t pretend otherwise. Good, honesty he can work with.

“Jessica! Please,” Sam starts.

But this time Dean talks over him. “Alright. He knows how I tick, too.”

“Who goes first?” Jess asks.

“Doesn’t really matter,” Dean shrugs. “I can summarize it for a start. You’re going to kill me if I hurt him, I’m going to kill you if you hurt him.”

“Your record is a lot worse than mine,” Jess answers.

“No argument there,” Dean agrees.

“Guys! Do you really have to do this?” Sam asks.

“Yes,” Dean and Jess confirm simultaneously.

Sam groans. “I’m grown up, you know? You don’t have to protect me. Neither of you.”

“Shut it, Sam,” Dean says at the same time that Jess says, “Not your call, Moose.”

“You call him Moose?” Dean asks.

“There’s nothing else that fits better,” Jess replies.

“He told you about how he got the nickname then?”

Jess nods. “He told me. He told me about your childhoods.”

“Good,” Dean says. “I mean, not the childhoods. But that he told you. You should know. Including the nasty stuff.”

“Yeah,” and her eyes turn hard again, “he told me about that, too.”

“Dean... I...”, Sam starts but Dean waves him off.

“As I said, she should know. So, Jess, hit me,” he gives her a calculated little grin, “literally if you have to, but I’d be grateful if you restricted yourself to words.”

That makes Jess snicker and Dean takes it as a good sign.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for reinjuring the spleen.”

“Hey, you could always hit the liver. There’s not much to break there anymore.”

“Not funny!” Jess admonishes.

“Oh come on, don’t take my sarcasm away. You gotta leave me something, you’re already taking my brother.” And ouch, that came out a little too honestly.

“Dean,” Jess has noticed, too, “I’m not taking your brother away from you. I mean, I have my hesitations about you, but I won’t try to keep him away.”

“That’s not,” Dean sighs, “that wasn’t even what I wanted to imply. It’s just that,” he looks at his brother, tall and adult and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, “it’s just that I took care of him for a long time.” He turns back to Jess. “I know he doesn’t need me anymore. And I’m happy he found you, okay?” He looks at her pleadingly, willing her to understand.

“Dean…” Sam has the puppy dog eyes going again.

“I’m giving the two of you my blessing, alright? Not that you need it, but you get it anyway.”

“Thanks, Dean,” that comes from Jess.

She’s smiling at him and there is something new in her eyes when she looks at Dean. It’s not affection, not by a long shot, but it’s acceptance and maybe even some respect.

It’s enough for Dean. More than he thought he’d get from her, especially in this short a time. “So we’re good?” he asks her.

“We’re good,” Jess agrees.

“Well then,” Dean can’t really hide his relieved smile. “Why don’t you two sit down and tell me all about how you got to know each other? Did you battle over the top position in class?”

Jess laughs. “There’s no battle there, that’s always going to be me.”

“Ha, you wish,” chuckles Sam. “My analysis on Rumford vs. Smith was so much better than yours.”

“More original, maybe, not better.”

Dean follows the easy banter between them with a smile. He envies them. But then he thinks of the photo on his phone and he smiles a small smile of his own.

“Mind if I take your chair?” Jess asks Balti.

“Nope, everyone is taking it all the time anyway,” Balti shrugs.

“Hey, you never did live-text me from your video night,” Sam chimes in. “How was it?”

“Sorry, I completely forgot,” Balti says. “There was too much going on. But hey, I could text you something now!”

“Don’t you dare!” Dean barks because he knows exactly what Balti is talking about.

“Oh come on, Dean-o! I would have send it to him in the morning if I hadn’t forgotten.”

“No!” Dean repeats. “That’s private! It’s bad enough that you and Gabe have that on your phones. I don’t need Sam going around showing it to Bobby and who knows who else!”

“What is it? How bad is it?” Sam of course thinks the whole thing is very amusing.

“Sammy, shut it!”

“Oh come on, Dean-o, show him!” Balti pipes in.

“Dean-o?” Jess asks.

“Don’t start! Not you, too,” Dean groans. But when everyone chuckles he can’t help it and chuckles with them. Yeah, it’s at his expense, but it’s also so much better than if Jess completely hated him.

“Here,” Balti is holding out his phone to Jess and Dean knows he’s lost.

“Awwww,” Jess coos.

Dean’s face burns as she shows the phone to his brother.

“Are you sure that that is you?” Sam asks with raised eyebrows. “Didn’t think you had a facial expression that wasn’t grumpy.”

Dean rolls his eyes at him. “At least you can see my face in the picture, with you it’s only hair.”

“Do not insult my hair!”

“Yeah, no one can insult his hair, it is majestic,” snickers Jess.

Dean laughs out loud and Jess holds her hand out for a High Five. Dean complies happily.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to groan. “Great, my brother and my fiancée are joining forces against me. Not cool.”

“Nah, Sammy, it’s totally cool and you know it.” He means it, too.

Dean guesses that’s the reason why Sam relents so easily. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

They talk for the next hour, and it’s easy and fun, because they mostly talk about Sam and Jess.

Dean finds out that they both love running in the morning and Dean shakes his head but his respect for Jess goes up another notch, because people who are crazy enough to go running before breakfast are fearsome and not to be messed with.

Dean asks them again how they met because he’s curious to find out whether they do anything apart from classes and healthy stuff. Maybe there is a party involved or at least hanging out with friends.

Sam looks at Jess and she looks at Sam and they have this smile playing on their face and then Sam takes Jess’ hand and she starts the story. It’s so cute that Dean might either want to puke or pat them both on the head. He can’t really decide.

“It’s been a while. First year of college. I think we talked for the first time in, uhh, the middle of that fall semester?” Jess says.

“Well, I noticed you on the first day,” Sam clarifies.

“But you never spoke to me!”

“Oh come on, you were drop-dead gorgeous and I was a nerdy theatre kid with a scholarship and not even enough money to invite you for ice-cream! What was I supposed to do?” Sam defends himself.

“At least you’re owning up to being a nerd,” Dean adds.

“Jerk,” Sam says.

Dean shoots back automatically, “Bitch.”

Jess looks from Sam’s fond smile to Dean’s grin and asks, “Am I missing something here?”

Dean chuckles, “No worries, keep telling the story.”

“Okay, so I had seen Moose around, because you know, he’s hard to miss,” Jess pats Sam’s knee when he rolls his eyes, “but we didn’t really talk before Halloween. There was this party that we both went to…”

“I thought you didn’t like Halloween?” Dean interrupts to ask Sam.

“Oh, I really don’t. But my roommate made me go. Because I – and I quote him here – 'never go outside and have fun',” Sam shrugs. “I didn’t even have a costume or anything. But I went with him because you know, the whole campus was nuts anyway. So, we get to the house and my roommate immediately runs off to get us some drinks or whatever. And I’m standing there, knowing absolutely no one...”

“He looked like a giant lost puppy,” chuckles Jess. “I had to take pity on him.”

“I have never looked like a giant lost puppy!”

“Okay,” Jess amends. “Like a giant lost moose. Anyway, I decided to walk over and say Hi.”

“Which she did. I still don’t know why she stayed past the first few minutes, I barely got a word out, she made me freakin’ nervous.”

Jess laughs. “As I said, I took pity on you. Also, I had actually heard you answering in class, so I knew you were smart somewhere under all of that stuttering.”

When Sam rolls his eyes again, Jess gives him a kiss, and Sam draws her closer to his side. “I mean, come on, Dean, you get it, don’t you? When someone gorgeous, obviously intelligent and much better off than you suddenly starts talking to you, it can be kind of overwhelming. Right?”

“I get you, man,” Dean nods. “Not sure my own brand of meeting someone gorgeous, intelligent and much better off than me will ever make this cute a story, though.”

“Are we talking about the doctor?” asks Jess.

“Possibly,” Dean shrugs. “The verdict is still out on that one.”

“Looked pretty decided to me,” Jess says.

Dean ponders that for a moment. She only knows the photo. But then, she doesn’t like him all that much, so she wouldn’t say anything just to make him feel better. “It’s complicated,” he finally answers.

“It’s always complicated, Dean,” Jess smiles. “Sam and I had our share of fights and almost break-ups and shit from the past showing up. Everyone does. If the other person is worth it, you work through it and come out stronger in the end.”

“You really think so?” Dean asks.

“I really do,” Jess smiles at Sam again and there is so much love in her eyes that it warms Dean’s heart. Sam did good. This one is definitely a keeper.

“Well, I hope you’re right,” Dean says.

“I know I’m right. Also, you need a plus one, don’t you? For our wedding,” Jess smiles.

“I’m invited?” And maybe Dean should try to make himself sound a little less unbelieving, but he really kind of doesn’t believe it.

“With your doctor,” Jess nods, “as long as…”

“Yeah,” he interrupts her, “I know.”

She gives him an apologetic smile but he waves it off. Because yeah, he’s sunken low in his life, but he wouldn’t show up drunk at his brother’s wedding. He would never do that to him. So either he makes it or there won’t be a need to take back the invitation. “Thanks, man,” is all he finally says, though. “It’s going to be an honor.”

Sam gets up then and hugs Dean tight. He holds on to his brother, even though his hair is tickling his nose, and it feels awesome, being a part of Sammy’s life again. That’s also something worth fighting for. Yes, he’s definitely going to add that to the list.

Chapter Text

Sam and Jess stay for a little while longer after that but they’ve promised Bobby to be back for dinner.

“I’ll be back on Tuesday,” Sam says. “Tomorrow morning, Jess and I are going to go over the final few bits of your case so that everything is ready for Professor Crowley. And then she’s got to go back.”

“That sucks,” Dean says to Jess, “I’d have enjoyed getting to know you a little better.”

“Well, you can always visit us in Stanford once you’re out of here,” Jess smiles.

“You sure about that?” Dean asks.

“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure,” Jess shrugs. “Didn’t actually think I would say it before I got to know you, but hey, you’re not that bad.”

She holds out her hand and Dean takes it. “Hey, you’re not that bad, either. I mean, I wouldn’t want to cross you, you’re a fearsome woman. But you’re good for the Moose.”

“Hey, I’m still in the room!” Sam complains.

“You’re going to argue with me about her being good for you?” Dean asks with a raised eyebrow.

Sam rolls his eyes at that and mouths “Jerk”.

Dean chuckles but since it wasn’t said out loud, he doesn’t reply. Instead he asks, “What about you? When’s your flight back?”

Sam shakes his head. “Haven’t booked it yet. I can do my college stuff online for now. So I’ll be here at least until the trial’s over and you’re settled in at Bobby’s.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Sam nods. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily anymore, though.”

“Never wanted to get rid of you in the first place,” Dean shrugs. The silence after that is a little uncomfortable so Dean adds, “Hey, don’t mind me. I watched Dr. Sexy instead of sleeping, I’m cranky and tired. You go home have dinner. I go annoy Balti.”

“Not fair,” Balti complains from the other bed.

“Oh, be quiet,” Dean says. “Gabe’s shift is going to start soon. So you’re all set.”

“Hmpf,” is Balti’s only comment.

Dean grins and turns back to his visitors. “Well, have a safe flight home, Jess. It was good meeting you.”

“Yeah, good meeting you, too.”

“And I’ll see you on Tuesday,” says Sam.

“Looking forward to it,” Dean answers.

Once they’re gone, Dean leans back and sighs deeply. He hadn’t even noticed how tense he was before his body relaxes.

“Hey, that went well, no need to sigh,” says Balti.

He turns to look at him. “Dude, if I had fucked that up, that would have been the last I saw of my brother.”

“Nah,” says Balti, but he doesn’t sound very sure.

“Oh, he would have called. Or whatever. But yeah,” Dean sighs, “he’s doing stuff right. He’s setting priorities. He’s building his own family. It’s good. It’s what he should do.”

“But it’s better to be included?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughs drily, “that it is.”

Their conversation stalls after that. They’re both just waiting now. Balti for Gabe’s shift to start, Dean for whether Cas is going to show up or not.

Dean worries his lip because he isn’t sure anymore whether Cas will come back today and the thought of trying to sleep tonight without knowing what is going on is terrifying. Even more terrifying, he realizes with a start, tomorrow is Cas’ free day. So if he doesn’t come by today, he won’t see him until Tuesday.

Tuesday. That’s not that bad, is it?

But the antsy feeling in his stomach tells him otherwise.

Goddammit, he already misses him, how the hell is he supposed to pretend everything is fine until Tuesday? If the others already thought they knew him when he’s grumpy, they have no idea how bad it gets when he doesn’t know what’s going to happen and is helpless and stuck and can’t do anything but wait. He’s going to snap at Pamela and fight with Sam and badger Gabe about talking to his brother, and ugh, Dean doesn’t even want to follow his own train of thoughts.

'If you hear me, God, please. I don’t know how to do this. I need to see him. I need to know.'

Even if it means that Cas tells him, that nope, sorry, he can’t see him again ever, at least he’s going to know then. Just waiting for the hammer to fall for two days is much worse.

He looks at the door and wills it to open.

But of course nothing happens. Dean sighs and ruffles through his hair. “Dammit,” he whispers and reaches for the phone.

Happy. They look happy. Dean can still feel the touch of Cas’ hand. It’s supposed to make him calmer, but it only makes him miss him even more. He slams the phone down on the nightstand. He doesn’t need additional feelings.

The notebook Sam gave him is also on the nightstand. He hasn’t really used it much yet. The voice of one of his counselors at school comes back to him, ‘When your thoughts turn in circles, write them down. Organization. Structure. Writing helps you with that.’

He sighs. He doesn’t think he has ever tried that one out. Mainly, because he was usually too busy not admitting his feelings to himself to get anywhere close to the point where he could actually write them down.

He grabs the notebook, starts it up and opens a new document.

He writes: I miss him.
He deletes it.

But honesty.

He starts again.
I miss him. Even though he’s not been gone that long.

Better. But not really everything he wants to say.
He deletes it again and starts differently.

I miss you.
And I’m scared. Scared that you won’t come back. Scared that you don’t want me.

He swallows heavily at that one. He’s not going to send the letter of course, but still.

I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s my biggest fear. That I will only hurt you.
I want you to be happy.

He bites his lip before adding:

That’s my biggest hope. That maybe you can be happy with me.

A knock at the door.

“Yes?” he asks hesitantly. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

But it is Cas who enters the room. He takes a few tentative steps and looks at Balti. But Balti has his eyes closed and is breathing regularly. He’s asleep. Or doing a pretty good impression of it anyway.

Cas’ unease doesn’t fade when he comes closer, though. He makes it to the foot-end of Dean’s bed before his steps falter.

“I won’t bite, Cas,” Dean says. “You can come closer. I won’t magic you into hell, either.” There is a bite to his voice that he didn’t really intend.

“Dean… I…” Cas struggles with the words and falters again.

“Take a seat,” Dean points at the chair closest to him. “Start at the beginning.”

Cas slinks down in the chair. He has his fingers clenched together hard enough in his lap that the knuckles turn white. His shoulders are hunched. He has a haunted look to him, and even his hair is matted.

Dean doesn’t like it. None of it. Cas should never look like this. Still, he can’t quite bring himself to tell Cas that it’s okay. That he’ll set him free and that he doesn’t have to explain anything. What he says instead is, “You’re invited to my brother’s wedding. As my plus one.”

“What?” Cas shakes his head, obviously not following and trying to clear his head.

“They saw the picture,” Dean explains with a shrug. “Not my doing. But they drew their own conclusions.”

“But we’re not…”

Dean laughs shakily, “Yeah, believe me, I’ve noticed.”

“I’m your doctor…” Cas says. His voice sounds no steadier than Dean’s.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that, too.”

“And it would be unethical and an abuse of power and…”

Dean holds up a hand to stop Cas. He doesn't want to hear any of this. His knows all of it already and he’s worked around it. He wordlessly turns the notebook so that Cas can read. He doesn’t know where he gets the guts from. But it has to be done somehow. And written words are easier than saying this out loud.

Cas reads quietly, his expression not giving much away. But it seems to Dean that his hands clench together even tighter. When he’s done, his eyes stop moving but he keeps staring at the screen.

“I wanted you to know,” Dean says softly. “You don’t have to… But I wanted you to know.”

Cas nods slowly. Then he takes the notebook, pulls it closer and starts typing.

When he gives it back, there are three new lines under Dean’s text.

I’m scared, too, Dean.
You think I’ve got it all worked out. But I don’t.
We’re not that different.

He reads the words twice. Only then does he look up. His heart is racing and he wants to say more. We’re not that different. Does that mean Cas feels what Dean feels? He wants to ask him. He really does. Wants to tell him what he feels for him, but as usual the words get stuck somewhere between his heart and his throat. He couldn’t even write them, for God’s sake. How is he ever supposed to say them? He does the next best thing, though, because hope makes him a fool, so he smiles and opens his hand, much the same way Cas did yesterday and he holds it out for him.

There is a second of hesitation, but then Cas unclenches his hands and lays his palm on Dean’s. It’s visible that he relaxes the instant their hands touch, that his shoulders suddenly curve more naturally, and that’s something. That’s more than Dean can usually do for someone else to make them feel better. But the haunted look in Cas’ eyes is still there.

So Dean asks quietly, “Want to tell me about it? I promise, I’ll just listen. I won’t judge.” He laughs somewhat bitterly. “Not that I have a right to judge anyone in any case.”

“Oh, shut up, Dean,” Cas says and it doesn’t sound much like Dr. Novak.

Dean chuckles. “I’m a bad influence on you, I think.”

“No, you’re not.” Cas huffs.

“Alright,” Dean placates and nods encouragingly to keep Cas going.

“You’re not ashamed of who you are. And I - I still have trouble with that.” The confession costs Cas visible effort.

Deans laughs dryly because the statement is ridiculously untrue. “Oh, I’m plenty ashamed of who I am. Just not about fucking guys.”

There is a moment of silence and Dean thinks he probably could have worded that one a little more sensitively.

Cas fidgets for a bit, obviously uncomfortable, before he says. “I do need to tell you something, though.”

“Okay?” Dean says carefully because people wanting ‘to tell him something’ never ends well. Usually, they tell him to go to hell.

Cas sighs deeply. “It’s not something I’m particularly proud of.”

“Just spit it out,” Dean shrugs. He’s pretty sure that whatever Cas did or didn’t do in his life, Dean’s still going to have done worse.

“There’s something you need to know about me,” Cas takes a deep breath and starts again. “Do you remember that I told you about Michael?”

“Yeah. Gabe told us a little more about him. Didn’t make me like him more.”

“Gabriel, yes,” Cas sighs. “As long as he was around, Michael was focused on day to day damage control. When Gabriel left, Michael focused on saving what there was to save of the family honor.”

“And that means?” Dean asks because he isn’t following.

“Marrying me off,” Cas says matter-of-factly.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I was at an eligible age. Not a good catch, maybe, given our family history, but Michael made good money. So there was that.”

“An arranged marriage? Isn’t that a bit – outdated? And also, I don’t know, illegal?”

“Outdated, yes. Somewhat cruel, yes. Illegal? No. I still refused. At first. Told him I’d live like the Catholic monks and serve God this way. That I wasn’t interested in any relationships. Of course that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a picture-perfect family to show to the congregation. Two point five children, a dog, you know the deal.” As an afterthought he adds, “I wouldn’t be all that opposed to the dog.”

That part makes Dean chuckle. “You sound just like Sammy. He always wanted a dog. Well, I guess he wants the picture-perfect family, too. So, not that similar after all.”

Cas’ smile looks pained when he says, “I didn’t say I don’t want a family. I just didn’t want it with Daphne.”

“Daphne?”

“The woman Michael chose for me to marry. A nice girl. Very devout. Believed in angels and miracles. Believed in a miracle for us, too. It would have been easier, if she had just been in for Michael’s money. But she believed.” He breaks off for a moment.

“Here,” Dean hands him his glass of water.

Cas drinks gratefully before continuing. “The engagement was – difficult. But I got through it somehow. Michael wanted to keep the engagement period short, anyway. He didn’t want anything to go wrong. I thought I could go through with it. There’s more people than me who did this. I thought I might be able to learn to love her. But then it was the night before the wedding and – I drank. A lot. I just, I imagined myself with her and I just couldn’t. I needed to talk to someone. Not Michael, obviously. Not Daphne, either. I wish Gabriel had been there. Or even Luci. They could have talked me out of it. But Michael had threatened to kill Lucifer the next time he saw him, and Gabriel,” Cas shrugs. “Gabriel called bullshit and wanted nothing to do with it. So I went to my mother.”

“Didn’t go well?” Dean hazards.

“She cried. All night pretty much. Begged me to go through with it. That she didn’t want to lose another child.”

“And?”

“And I went through with it.”

“So you’re married?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Was. I was married. Not for very long. I looked at my mother’s red eyes and I said yes. I managed to put a smile on my face for the reception. I convinced myself that I could do this. Right until the wedding night.”

He looks pained at the memory but he doesn’t hesitate. “Nothing happened. I just couldn’t. Daphne told me we’d work on it. I knew it wouldn’t change anything. She told me she’d pray for me and that miracles happen,” he laughs sarcastically. “I told her that I didn’t believe in miracles. Which isn’t true by the way. I do believe in miracles. Just not that kind.”

“Would be a pretty horrible kind of miracle, if you ask me. One where you have to lose yourself,” says Dean.

“You’re quite wise for a functional alcoholic, you know that?” Cas says.

Dean’s eyebrows draw together. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“I wonder what comes first. The wisdom or the alcohol. Or whether it’s the wisdom that’s linked to the depression and that is where the alcohol comes in.”

Whoa. “I already said I’m plenty ashamed of myself, you don’t have to drive it home.”

“You’re ashamed of your habits, but you don’t have to be ashamed of yourself. There’s a difference.”

“So – you do? You have to be ashamed of yourself?” Dean asks.

“Have you ever married someone you didn’t love and broken them in the process?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head.

“See.”

“What the hell, Cas?” Because honestly Dean has no idea what Cas is trying to prove here.

“Hell is a good cue, actually. Because I got married before God and then I broke the marriage covenant. I betrayed every value I ever had. I left her in shame. I broke my family.”

“Well, welcome to the club. We’ve all done shit we’re not proud of.”

“It’s not that easy, Dean! Your brother went to Stanford, he’s doing fine! I broke Daphne! And my mother!”

“Easy?” Dean isn’t sure he heard that right. “Did you just say you’ve got it hard and I’ve got it easy? Because, man, that looks different from my perspective.”

“That’s because all you see is your perspective!”

Dean shakes his head incredulously. He’s getting angry here. “Because I’m stuck in this fucking bed and can’t do anything but wait for you to show up and see whether you want to share anything with me – like the fact that you’ve been married. Which isn’t all that unimportant, but hey, I didn’t know it before a second ago! How the hell can I even see your perspective when you’re too stuck on keeping professional boundaries to actually talk to me?”

“I talked to you now, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. And what exactly did you want to say? That being with me is the quick route to hell? That staying married to Daphne would have been better? Well, go find her. If she’s that devout, she can’t marry anyone else, can she? So you can still be her miracle.”

“Oh, fuck you, Dean,” Cas spits.

“Easy, guys,” comes a voice from the other side of the room. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to regret everything you’re going to say from here on out. You might want to try to calm down first.”

Castiel was tense before but the minute he hears Balti’s voice, his expression changes to something dark. “Excuse me for a second, Dean,” he says but he doesn’t wait for an answer, just gets up and walks over to Balti’s bed.

“You’re aware that I can’t run, right?” Balti says and he tries to make it sound light-hearted, but he also takes the remote and places his thumb over the call button. “Also, my boyfriend will punch you if you hurt me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a doctor, Mr. Milton. I took an oath not to hurt you. But in my capacity as a doctor in this hospital, I will tell you that the affair with my brother is unethical and I do not approve of it. Out of this hospital, Gabriel’s private life is none of my business. But here, I have to make sure that the hospital’s regulations are kept. I will inform him of this as well.”

“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean interrupts. “Are you honestly going to rat out Gabe?”

“No, of course not. But I will change the station plan so that he is no longer your nurse. For either of you. He can come by on his private time. But that’s it.” He turns back to Dean. “You’re only here for another few days. I assume I can sign your discharge papers on Thursday. If you want to request another doctor until then, it’s fine with me. In any case, you should start some preparations for going home. You will need some help in the first few weeks. But I assume you’ve got that covered. Anyway, my shift ends in a few minutes, so I will go inform Gabriel of his new duties now.”

Castiel nods at the both of them and leaves the room, leaving them speechless.

Chapter Text

Dean feels sick. Like his heart has been ripped out and lies bleeding on the floor. Request a new doctor? What the fuck?

“I am sorry, Dean, but I really dislike Dr. Novak right now,” Balti grumbles.

“I hear you, man,” Dean says because he still can’t wrap his head around the last ten minutes.

Things had been going well, right? Cas had read his words and had answered with something akin to – but it can’t be, Dean must have misread that. Cas wants him to request a new doctor. Cas doesn’t want to be with him. But why the hell did he take his hand then?

He looks at Balti and sees all his own feelings on his face. Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

“I really don't know what to say. I mean, it was just a kiss and... Dean, how did this happen?”

Dean laughs, but it sounds wrong even in his own ears. “I wish I knew. Jeez, he sure has issues.”

“We all have,” Balti answers and his lips are set in a small, closed off line that discourages Dean from saying anything else even though his first instinct is to go over to Balti and comfort him. It isn’t fair that he’s not going to get to see Gabe during Gabe’s shifts again. Cas is an ass for doing that to him.

The thoughts leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Feeling powerless to help is too familiar.

He’s clinging to his Mom. She’s sobbing hopelessly, her hands shaking too much to pick up the shards of the broken plate from the ground. ‘Mommy, please, I can do this. Please, Mom,” he is begging because she’s already got cuts on her fingers and they are bleeding and she doesn’t even seem to notice. ‘Please don’t get hurt, Mom. I’m here for you.’

Only he wasn’t, was he? Not when his Dad started throwing plates. Not when the fire claimed her life. What good is baking pies when you can’t save the ones you love?

Love.

The word trips him like it always does. No good comes of this word. His Mom used to say it. ‘I love you, Dean. You and little Sammy.’ He doesn’t remember her saying it to his Dad. Though she must have. She must have loved him at some point.

His Dad never used the word. Not towards him or Sam anyway. He said ‘good boy’ every so often, when he thought Dean had done something exceptionally well. Not that he thought that very often. Dean had accepted it. Had emulated his Dad’s ways. Not Sammy, though. Sammy had always been much more like their Mom. Which is weird, because he doesn’t even have conscious memories of her. But he gave big hugs and told Dean ‘I love you’. At least when they were young. Dean had pushed him off and told him to man up.

He sighs. Didn’t mean he hadn’t soaked it up. Like he had soaked up every bit of kindness Cas had offered him. Until Cas’ patience and kindness ran out. Why is that even surprising him? It’s not like Sam’s patience hadn’t run out. Or anyone else’s.

God, Dean could use a drink right now. The urge is almost overwhelming and it takes him by surprise. Whiskey, strong and sweet, yet burning his throat at the same time. It would hit his stomach with a satisfying rush and after a while, he’d forget all about the word that he can’t say and the meaning that it has.

The image of blue eyes fixing him sternly comes unbidden and sudden. He shakes his head to get rid of it. But it stubbornly stays. ‘Fuck you, Cas, you have no right to invade my thoughts. Not anymore,’ he silently yells at the figment of his imagination. At the same time, hot tears already prickle behind his eyes.

“Fuck you, Cas,” he repeats and this time it’s out loud, but it isn’t angry anymore, it’s low and desperate.

“Dean?” Balti asks.

Fuck’s sake, Dean should hate Cas. He should hate him for first entrenching himself so deeply into Dean’s heart that he can’t get rid of him and then being an asshole. He should hate him. But the only one he hates is himself, because his first fucking thought when things went sour was to find a bar. It’s the shame over that as much as everything else that pushes the tears into his eyes.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” he replies. Cas’ eyes are still there in his mind, still following his every movement. ‘What?’ he shouts at him. ‘I feel bad enough already, alright? And I’m not going to that bar, so you can fucking vanish now.’

“Liar.”

For a second, Dean thinks it’s an answer to him saying that he won’t go get a drink. Then he remembers that Balti can’t hear his thoughts. What did he ask again? Oh yeah. Whether he was okay. Figment-Cas raises his eyebrows and Dean is tempted to flip him off. Instead, he sighs and gives in. “Well... You know what, no, I am not okay. I just thought about how I can get out of here to get a drink.”

“I don't approve.”

“I figured.”

“So what shall we do on the matter?”

Dean shrugs. “I get my ass to that clinic and get help.”

“That's a good thought, Dean.”

Figment-Cas smiles, obviously approving of the way this conversation went, and Dean wants to punch him. But then, the burning behind his eyes has stopped and somehow a small smile has snuck up on him. Grudgingly he says, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“You know, I won't run away if you want to talk about it,” Balti offers. As an afterthought, he adds, “Not that I could run even if I wanted to.”

Against his will, that makes Dean smirk. “Be careful what you are offering here, I might take you up on that.”

“Should I be scared?”

Dean chuckles. “Probably.”

Balti laughs out loud and shakes his head. “Oh thank God, at least you haven't lost your humor.”

That’s when Gabe comes in. He is furious, his body language speaking volumes. But he stops in his tracks when he sees Balti and that he laughs.

“You are fine,” he sighs in relief.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Balti greets him with a warm smile and Gabe is at his side in two steps and takes his hand.

“I was so worried. He can’t do this. I think I have never in my life yelled so much at my brother. Well, at this brother. He really needs to get a grip,” Gabe says and leans forward and hugs Balti.

“I am just glad you are here now,” Balti whispers softly and Dean lets them have their moment when Gabe leans in for a kiss.

His gaze gets caught on the open notebook.

I’m scared, too, Dean.
You think I’ve got it all worked out. But I don’t.
We’re not that different.

He doesn’t know what to feel about it anymore. Doesn’t know what that even means. He is tempted to take the notebook and smash it like his Dad smashed the plates. But it’s Sammy’s. And he isn’t Dad anyway. He doesn’t handle his anger this way. So he focuses on the lingering darkness, the confusing mixture of anger and pain, of longing and hurt, and of that thing that he doesn’t dare name, and starts typing instead.

I’ve never been good with feelings, you know.
But you hurt me today.
And I know, you hurt yourself, too.
Maybe you are right, maybe we are not that different in some ways.
Because I used to do that, too. All the time.
And now I just… I just don’t know.
Words, huh?
I’ve never been good with words.
But if I had a chance, one last chance to talk to you.
Talk to Cas-you and not Dr. Novak-you.
I would tell you.
I swear, I would tell you.

“Dean-o?”

Dean looks up.

“Are you okay? You didn’t react before,” Gabriel says.

“I am fine,” Dean answers because, honestly, he is better than he was. But even he can hear how broken his voice sounds.

“Balti told me what happened. And you are not fine.” Gabriel shoots Balti a short look and the other man just nods. Without another word, Gabe stands up, walks over to Dean’s bed and sits down on the visitor’s chair. “Talk to me.”

Dean sighs and stares at his hands as if they hold all the answers. How can he tell all of this to Gabe? When he can’t even say it to Cas himself.

“Please, Dean-o.”

He’s shied away from this for so fucking long. Has always made sure to guard his heart. Every time he came close to letting someone in, he thought of his Mom. How he had told her he loves her every night. How it was the last thing she said to him because it was the last thing she said to him when tucking him in every day. He thought of how he felt safe in her love and then it was all ripped out from under him.

It was enough to keep him away from the big word with L.

But Cas.

With Cas everything had been different. Cas had felt safe. Why the hell had Cas felt so safe? When obviously he wasn’t. And why the hell does Dean’s heart seem to think that that makes no fucking difference?

And how in all the seven circles of hell is he supposed to explain any of this to Gabriel?

“Gabe, I just… it’s… it’s too much,” Dean croaks instead and hopes that Gabe understands.

“Oh, Dean-o. I am so sorry.” Gabe lays a hand on his shoulder and Dean has to fight not to shake the hand off immediately. It is too close to Cas’ hand on his arm on that first day when they’d just met.

Gabriel senses Dean’s tension and takes his hand away hastily. “It’s my fault.”

That makes Dean look up and he sees Gabe sitting beside him, his head buried in his hands.

“If I hear that one more time, I swear, I will kill someone,” Balti says angrily. “Why are you all so keen about blaming yourselves, come on!”

“Because usually it's true, at least in my case,” Dean answers with a shrug while Gabe looks up and Balti sighs frustrated.

“Really, Dean? So it's your fault that the world falls apart? And of course it's your responsibility to fix it?”

“No, that's not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is. Because listen to me. Both of you. You can't change the past. You just can't. You have to learn from it and do better. Is that so hard to get?”

“He has a point,” Gabe agrees and Dean looks up and meets his eyes.

Balti nods empathically. “Trust me. I am right. Isn't as if I haven't done things in my life that I regret. Everyone has. I just don’t stop trying.”

Gabriel eyes him. “Didn't know you were this wise.”

“There is a lot about me that you don't know yet,” Balti answers and then smirks, “lots and lots of things, actually.” Dean has no idea how he does that, switching from serious to innuendo in a split-second.

Gabe laughs out loud, though. “I look forward to learning more about that.”

There is a noise at the door and all three of them turn simultaneously.

It’s Cas.

Gabriel tenses immediately. He gets up and moves forward, getting ready to fight, creating a human barrier between the beds and Cas. This time he isn’t only protecting Balti, he is shielding Dean, too. It’s a long time since anyone has tried to protect Dean. He exhales a shaky breath because, yeah, he can protect himself, but it feels pretty decent, having a friend care enough to try and protect him.

Only when his thoughts have gotten this far does he look from Gabe to Cas. Cas is standing stock-still. He hasn’t moved from the doorway. He looks different somehow, but Dean can’t quite put his finger on it.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your way home?” Gabe demands to know.

Cas runs his fingers through his hair while eyeing Gabe warily. He doesn’t make any attempt to pass him. “I can’t go home like this, Gabriel.”

“You can’t be in here, either,” Gabe shoots back.

“I’m not. I’m in the doorway.”

Suddenly it clicks for Dean. Defeated. Cas looks defeated.

“You going to start shit again?” Gabe challenges him. “Cause you’re going to have to go through me to get to Dean or Balti. And I don’t care a flying fuck that I’m not supposed to be in here.”

Cas lifts both hands in a defensive gesture. “I didn’t come to fight.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows skeptically and Cas lets his hands drop. “Please, Gabriel. Let me… let me try to make this right.”

“I am not sure you can,” Gabriel says bitterly.

Cas takes a deep breath. “That’s why I said try.”

Gabriel starts to answer but, “Gabe, don’t,” Dean interjects quickly.

Both Novaks turn around and look at him surprised.

Dean has to look away. He can’t bear the blue eyes on him right now. Still. Cas looks defeated. Cas should never look defeated. Dean swallows hard. “We should hear him out.”

“I agree,” Balti says.

“Hmm,” Gabriel crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Seems like I’m overruled. Well, you heard them. I’m waiting.”

Cas had hunched his shoulders but now he draws a deep breath and draws himself up to his full height. “I drafted that station plan but I didn’t post it. I was an idiot.”

“No, you were a dick,” Gabriel corrects.

There is a moment of silence. “Okay, I was a dick,” Cas concedes.

“Not enough, Castiel. I am still waiting,” Gabe replies after another minute ticked by without Cas offering any further explanation.

Dean is glad that he doesn’t have to deal with this on his own because as much as he hurts, he isn’t sure he could keep the same resolve of not letting Cas of the hook. Because yes, Cas stands tall and he holds his head high, but Dean’s gotten to know him too well in the past week not to notice the way he can’t keep his hands still or the way he keeps staring into space.

Finally, Cas seems to come to a decision and asks, “What you said earlier, Gabriel. Is it true?”

Gabe huffs. “I said a lot, Castiel, you will have to be a little more precise. That’s usually one of your strengths, isn’t it? Being very precise? Being very literal?”

The remark is supposed to be cutting but Cas absorbs whatever impact it has without letting it show in his voice. “That you love Mr. Milton.”

Gabriel gives Castiel a calculating look as if trying to figure out the purpose of his question. But then he nods. “Yes, I love him. I love Balthazar. As I said, I am not playing games. I haven’t for a long time.”

Dean is sure you could hear a needle drop after that statement.

Cas’ eyes dart from Gabe to Balti and back. "I... may have overreacted."

“Overreacted? Nice phrase. Want to add anything to that? Or is that enough for your conscience to be quiet and for you to go home?” Gabriel is obviously not ready to give an inch.

Dean is on the verge of telling Gabe to knock it off and leave Cas alone but he doesn’t. He isn’t even sure Cas wants to talk to him. He doesn’t need Dean defending him.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel, okay? I’m sorry,” Castiel says exasperatedly.

There is surprise written all over Gabe's face. “Pardon me? Can you repeat that? I think I misheard.”

“I think that you heard me quite well, Gabriel,” Cas bites but then he immediately catches himself, “look, I made a mistake and I am trying to fix it.”

“So you agree that you need to get your act together? And that you are a moron?”

Castiel glares at Gabriel but he presses out a “yes” from between his teeth.

“Ha,” Gabriel’s stance finally slackens. “Did not actually expect that. What made you change your mind?”

"I went looking for answers. And I think I found them.” Cas glances at Dean then, and Dean’s heart is definitely not skipping a beat when Cas says, “May I come in? I want Dean to hear this, too.”

Gabriel looks back at him and only when Dean nods does he move out of the way and back to Balti’s side. Cas comes in a few steps but stays against the far wall. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. That’s John 1:5.”

“Okay, you’re quoting the Bible. How has that made it any better?” Gabriel asks.

“Because the darkness can be very powerful. Sometimes it’s all I see.” He looks up at Dean again. “But it isn’t all there is.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I get it.” Because that’s exactly how he feels about alcohol.

“Well, I don't,” Gabriel retorts.

Castiel focuses back on him. “My faith turned into darkness a long time ago. You know why. I had forgotten that there can also be light.”

Gabriel thinks about that for a second. “So you’re saying that you think God might be okay with this after all? Even though his all-holiness Michael wouldn’t agree?”

“My way of saying it was much more poetic,” Cas says.

“No, your way of saying it was much more confusing,” Gabe answers with a smirk.

“What does 'this' mean?” Dean surprises himself probably more than the others and he has to clear his throat. “Excuse me, but God being okay with ‘this’, what does that frikkin' mean?” He tries to get out the complete question, tries to ask whether it means only Balti and Gabe or also…

“It means you and me,” Cas hesitates. “Provided you still want that.” He bites his lip but he comes a few steps closer.

Gabe is shooting Dean a look again, but he shakes his head no. He doesn’t need help. He needs clarity. And only Cas can give him that. “So you’re saying…” he prompts.

“I’m saying that you’re a light in my darkness. And I don’t want to lose that.”

“You don’t want to…“

“Lose you. I don’t want to lose you, Dean.”

Dean has to close his eyes for a moment as the relief washes over him. “Can you repeat that, Cas? Please?” Just to make sure it’s true.

“I don't want to lose you, Dean,” Cas says clearly.

Dean opens his eyes with a snap. “Then never do that again!”

Chapter Text

He’s still glaring at Cas but he can virtually see how the defeated look drains out of him.

“Well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I detect a note of forgiveness,” Cas hazards.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, you seem to have that effect on me,” he echoes Cas’ words about rebelling.

The reference isn’t lost on Cas, either, because a small smile lifts the corners of his mouths.

“Uhh, I don’t want to ruin your moment but I still have some questions,” Gabriel raises his hand like a kid in school.

Cas sighs. “Yes, Gabriel?”

“What happens now?”

“I expect the world to keep turning,” Cas answers evenly.

Gabe shoots his brother a look like he is 100% done with his shit.

The small crinkles around Cas’ eyes betray that he knew very well that that was not the question Gabe asked. They are easy to miss if you don’t look for them. But Dean is watching Cas closely and he doesn’t miss them.

“I’ll be more precise for you then: Are you going to post that new station plan?” Gabriel says.

“No,” Cas answers.

“Why not?” Gabriel demands.

Cas sighs deeply. “Can I?” he asks and points at the side of Dean’s bed.

Dean slides over to give Cas some space to sit down.

“Because it’s not my call.”

Gabe raises his eyebrows and Cas fidgets uncomfortably.

“I trust you. I mean, not very far, but far enough that I think you won’t endanger either your or my job. So it’s not my call.”

“Does this mean you are okay with Balti and me?” Gabriel asks carefully.

“You never needed my blessing,” Cas replies. “I just... it seems so easy for you. I really don’t know how you do that.”

At this, Gabriel's face literally lights up. His grin threatens to split his entire face. Dean swears that he almost sees tears in his eyes.

“Now that's the Cassie that I know and love,” Gabriel blurts out. “Can I get a hug?”

“You won’t stop bugging me until I comply, am I right?” Cas asks.

“Oh, you know me so well, brother!” Gabriel grins and jumps up to hug his brother.

Cas visibly braces himself for the impact, but Dean can see that he hugs Gabriel back tightly.

“Oh dear God,” Gabriel suddenly straightens away from Cas. Dean follows his line of view to the clock on the wall. “Shit, shit, shit. I was supposed to report to Meg ten minutes ago. Shit.”

“Oh Gabriel,” Cas sighs.

“She’s going to have my hide for this, she hates me anyway,” Gabriel whines.

Cas shakes his head. “She hates you because you hate her.”

“No, she hates me because she thinks that I try to keep you away from her. And she doesn’t like candy. What the hell kind of person do you have to be not to like candy?”

“A dentist?” Cas ventures. Then he gets up with a sigh. “Come on then. I have kept you from being on time, so I might as well go with you and tell her that it was my fault because I needed your assistance. Is that going to be enough to placate her?”

“You are the best brother in the world!”

Cas frowns. “Suddenly I am the best brother again?”

But Gabriel doesn’t even answer, he just jumps Cas for a second hug, almost knocking him over in the process.

“Okay, okay,” Cas laughs. “You can let go of me now.”

Gabriel obeys and turns around to Balti. “See you later, sweetie.”

“Til later, darling,” Balti answers with a wink.

Then Gabe turns to Dean with a half bow. “Til later, too.”

“See ya, Gabe,” Dean laughs. He likes seeing the brothers being fine again. He likes seeing Cas smile even more.

“Gabriel, come on, we really shouldn’t let Meg wait any longer,” Cas orders and Gabe follows.

Before they leave the room, Cas stops and turns back to Dean. His look is determined. “I will make it up to you, Dean. I promise.”

Dean smiles. “I look forward to it.”

With that, the two brothers leave the room.

“Well, that went surprisingly well,” Balti states after a moment of silence.

“Yeah,” Dean sags back against the bed. He’s still getting exhausted awfully fast. “I think I’ve had enough drama for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, no chance for that. Not here,” Balti snickers.

“You think he’s made up his mind for real this time?” Dean asks. Because he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take before he’s going completely crazy.

Balti shrugs. “Only one way to find out. Kiss him and see whether he freaks. If he doesn’t, he has made up his mind.”

“Right,” Dean says ironically.

“Honestly.”

“What happened to talk about stuff?” Dean asks.

“Overrated,” Balti states, grinning widely. “Also, it only gets you so far.”

“Yeah, stop right there. I don’t want to know how far exactly you and Gabe already got.”

Balti laughs loudly at that. “Jealous, Dean-o?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. Only of the fact that you’re going to see Gabe tomorrow while Cas has his free day.”

“Maybe he’s going to come in extra for you? And then you can kiss him! Deep, slobbery kisses with lots of tongue…”

“Shut it, Balti,” Dean grumbles because of course his mind’s graphical department is immediately convinced that it’s a good idea to provide a visual to that and he’s liking the idea way too much.

Balti just chuckles.

“Think you can keep it together for a bit? I’ve got to do something serious before we can go back to the telenovela,” Dean changes the topic abruptly.

“What’s up, Dean-o?”

But Dean just shakes his head and gets his cell phone. He rummages around his nightstand until he finds Benny’s card. With a deep sigh, he punches in the numbers.

It rings once. Twice. Then a deep voice says, “Yes?”

“Benny? This is Dean.”

„Dean? Are you alright?“

“Yeah, I’m alright. But I wasn’t, a while ago. So I was wondering – your offer still standing?”

“You got yourself enrolled in that clinic?”

“Working on it.”

“Then yeah, the offer still stands.”

“So…” asking for things is not Dean’s forte. But he fights his instincts to just hang up and get through this on his own, “would you be my sponsor?”

“I’d expect you to come to meetings with me. And I’ll kick your ass when you fuck up.”

“That’s kind of the idea, isn’t it?” Dean says.

“The idea is to support you so that it doesn’t come to that. But it doesn’t always work this way. John being a point in case.”

“I’m not my Dad,” Dean says quietly but determinedly.

“I’m aware. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

Dean mulls that over but has nothing to say to it. He wants to defend his Dad because he’s his Dad and Dean has spent his life trying to be good enough for him. But these last few days, all his usual defenses of John’s behavior – how he was a good man who just couldn’t live without their Mom, how he only tried to keep them safe by being strict, how he knew what was best for them but sometimes was a bit heavy-handed in implementing it, how his Dad had a heroic mission and only ever neglected them because of that – sound hollow.

Cause his Dad had been drunk and throwing plates and making his Mom cry long before she had died. Like Dean had already been on a downhill slope before his Dad’s death. And if they stayed with the comparison, drinking hadn’t exactly furthered Dean’s judgment on what was good for anyone, including himself. So maybe his Dad hadn’t been quite as much of a hero as Dean wanted him to be.

“Dean? Are you still there?”

“Sorry. Spaced for a bit. Was thinking about my Dad.”

“Hope you’re not taking offense at me saying that I wouldn’t want to be his sponsor again.”

“No, I wasn’t. I get it. I wouldn’t want to sponsor a hopeless case, either.”

Dean assumes that Benny nods but he doesn’t comment. Instead he says, “You call me back when you know more about the clinic, okay? We’re going to set up a schedule of when and where to meet once you know more. And if you need to talk before that, you holler. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Benny.”

“Alright. Talk to you soon then.”

Dean has already hung up the phone when he notices that he just called his Dad a hopeless case to differentiate him from himself.

That must mean he’s got some hope, huh? Dean wonders when that happened. Somewhere between all the drama apparently. He takes a deep breath. “Alright, Balti, I’m better now. Let's watch whatever is on TV. I really don't care what as long as it doesn’t require much brainpower.”

Thankfully, Balti doesn’t comment on the phone call Dean’s just made and just nods and flips through the channels until they find reruns of Murder She Wrote.

Not long after, Dean falls asleep.

***

“Dean-oooo. It’s morning! Wakey-wakey!” Someone is poking at him and he groans.

“Come on, Dean-o. I’m trying very hard to wake you gently.”

Dean tries to catch the tail-end of his dream. A road trip with his brother. They were doing something. Saving someone? Hunting something? But it’s too late now, Gabe has chased away the images.

“Maybe you should kiss him, too?” Balti laughs and that gets Dean to open his eyes.

“Bleh. Not funny,” he complains.

“Agreed, Dean-o,” Gabe smiles and turns to Balti. “I would never. My brother would kill me.”

“Oh, so your brother is the only problem here. I see,” Balti answers with a smirk.

“How the hell are you in such a good mood? It's way too early for this!” Dean interrupts. “By the way, how late is it?”

“Six o'clock on a wonderful sunny morning, Dean-o.”

Dean ignores the wonderful part of that sentence. No morning is wonderful at 6am. So he focuses on the other part, instead. “Shouldn't you be on your way home then?”

Gabe laughs. “Yes, and I will be in a minute. But since I turned up late for my shift, I thought I could help Pam a little bit by waking you up.”

“I have to suffer because you wanted to see Balti,” Dean concludes.

Gabe laughs. “You look right through me, Dean-o.”

“Well, I thought that it was nice being woken up by you,” Balti says and Gabe walks over to his bed and sits down.

For the fact, that they want to torture him by waking him up, they sure seem to be fast in forgetting about him - again.

“So it's okay if I do that every day from now on?” Gabe asks.

“You ask the strangest questions, darling,” Balti smiles.

“I know. But you didn’t answer.”

“Every day?” Balti asks.

“From now on,” Gabe reaffirms.

“Goodness gracious, Gabe, you sound like you’re proposing,” Dean says before he can stop himself. By the way Gabriel blushes to a dark crimson, he hit the mark, too. “Holy moly. You are proposing.”

“Not proposing,” Gabe says quickly. “Jesus. Just – asking.” He seems at a loss for words.

Balthazar is watching him closely. “You mean it.”

Gabe looks at him fixedly and if Dean didn’t know better, he’d say there is insecurity in his eyes.

“You, whirlwind personified and candy lover extraordinaire, are asking me whether I want to see you every morning. And you don’t mean just here in the hospital.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes,” Gabe nods.

“Well, I’m really glad that I met you,” Balti says.

“I can’t tell whether that’s a Yes or a No,” Gabe answers and this time there is definite insecurity in his voice.

Balti shakes his head like he’s startled by Gabe’s obvious need for reassurance. His voice is gentle when he answers. “That’s a Yes, Gabe. Of course it’s a Yes. I'd love to be woken up by you every day. Every day for the rest of forever if you want to. I love you, Gabe. Don’t you know that?”

“I thought you never would say it back,” Gabe sighs a relieved sigh.

“Not everyone blurts his feelings out like you do, honey.”

“But you mean it?” Gabriel asks.

“Of course I do, dummy.”

“Well, in that case, I love you, too,” Gabe answers with a deep sigh and leans in for a kiss.

Dean looks away then. There is an ugly spark of jealousy in his heart that he wants to hush but that nags at him anyway. It looks so easy for them. They’re so certain of who they are and what they want and how to get it. There’s no addiction and no issues with God getting in the way. They aren’t tongue-tied and awkward. It’s just them and their love. He doesn’t begrudge them their relationship and the ease at which it is progressing – but. He sighs. Cas has added another layer of complicated to something that has never been easy. And Dean isn’t sure how much more their fragile bond can take.

“I will leave you now. I need sleep. I really dislike 12 hours shifts,” Gabe says loudly and gets up.

“At least you are able to walk around,” Balti answers dryly.

“I am not the one who fell off the roof,” Gabe replies.

Balti chuckles. “Right, I did that.”

“See, that's why you have me. I'm also here to remind you that you should eat your breakfast. Both of you. Pam will tell me if you don't.”

“Yes, Mom,” Dean says and Gabe laughs.

“I like your humor, Dean-o, and I am too tired to say anything else. I need my bed. Now. So, see you later.”

He leans over once more to kiss Balti goodbye and whispers something into his ear that Dean as usual doesn't even want to know. Then Gabe leaves the room humming happily.

“By the way, I am really glad that you are my roommate.” Balti busies himself checking the contents of the tray on the nightstand.

“Okay?” Dean asks and takes a look at his food, too.

“Yeah. I am not sure everyone would be okay with… you know, Gabe and me.”

Dean shrugs. “Isn’t like you don’t have to put up with all the Dr. Sexy stuff that is going on in this room.”

“About that,” Balti says and loads a forkful of eggs into his mouth, “I have decided that Dr. Sexy is not my style. As a writer, I mean. I need a mythology ark to be happy.”

“So you won’t be writing about us then?” Dean asks warily. He has a feeling that it is too early to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Eh, I will but I won’t.”

“You’re not making any sense, Balti.”

“Well, I will amalgamate our experiences here with the story Kevin told us. About the angels, you know?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean says carefully, because honestly how the hell is that supposed to work?

“Promise not to laugh?” Balti says. “Because it’s all just a work in progress and I haven’t figured out the details yet.”

“Alright?” Dean promises halfheartedly.

It’s enough for Balti, though. “Okay, so the basic story is the same. An angel and a human fall in love. Only it will be set in the present. And the human will be – a hunter.”

“For deer and shit?” Dean asks. Because poor Bambi.

“No, for demons and stuff. You obviously gotta have demons when you have angels.”

“Obviously,” echoes Dean.

“So, the hunter gets killed by a demon and sent to hell. But he’s important to the survival of the human race – don’t ask me, I haven’t figured that part out yet. But anyway, the angel gets tasked to bring the human back from hell and bring him back to life.”

“That sounds kinda creepy. I also don’t know how we come in.”

“Well, obviously you are the tortured hunter and Cas is the guardian angel.”

“Obviously,” Dean shakes his head.

“Are you even taking this seriously?” Balti asks.

Dean thinks it better not to answer that one.

Balti doesn’t need an answer anyway, he mimes grabbing someone by the shoulders and yanking them up while he continues, “So the angel yanks the hunter out of hell and leaves a mark on his body. A handprint on the shoulder.”

“A handprint? Seriously?”

“Well, you want to show that there is an immediate connection. Nothing better for that than a physical mark.”

“Obviously,” Dean smirks

Balti shoots him a withering look but keeps telling the story. “The handprint is important! Because when he’s brought back to life, the human forgets about the angel. He remembers being tortured in hell, but not how he came back. But now he has the handprint as a place to start looking for his savior.”

“Like the glass shoe leads to the princess?” Dean asks sardonically.

“Yes, exactly!” Balti exclaims and notices only then that Dean was teasing. “You know what? This is an awesome idea and you won't convince me otherwise. I can already see how it’ll come over on screen. The dark haired, blue eyed angel strides into the room, lights blow out everywhere because his power just can’t be contained, he steps right in front of the green-eyed hunter with the dirty blond hair, and in his deep, deep voice says: 'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.'”

Dean snorts with laughter and almost chokes on his food. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“No. It is very profound. Also, they will stare at each other and it will be adorable.”

“You find Gabe adorable, so I won't judge your taste.”

“And you shouldn’t. Also, Dean, I have to inform you that dancing around each other is only adorable for so long. And you two have been doing that since day one. You need a strategy here.”

“Balti,” Dean warns.

“No, no, Dean, I am not kidding. You’re not going to get more out of Cas than you have, unless you have a plan. He may not be a religious prick anymore, but he’s clueless. Hey, should we lock you two in a closet until you make out?”

“What?”

“It worked for Anna and her boyfriend in middle-school,” Balti shrugs.

“Dude,” Dean doesn’t even know what to say.

“Well, the closets here are kind of small. The bathroom maybe?”

“Balti, seriously?”

“Seriously! I am sure Gabe will help.”

Chapter Text

Dean manages to get the conversation back onto safer grounds but the word ‘clueless’ sticks in his mind.

He lists to himself what he knows of Cas’ former relationships. It isn’t much. Gabe had evaded Balti’s question about any ‘real relationships’ that Cas has had. Dean is reasonably sure that Balti meant real relationships in opposition to the hook-ups that Dean usually has. He is also reasonably sure that Gabe meant real relationships in opposition to the arranged marriage Michael had in mind for Cas.

His head is still spinning when he thinks about that. Who does that? Who pressures their own brother into this? The difference to selling him to the highest bidder is so marginal that Dean has to grit his teeth against the rising rage. Bad enough when the circumstances lead you to selling yourself out, but to be sold? Dean shudders.

Relationships, he tries to get his mind back on track before derailing into darker thoughts and places. Cas is clueless about relationships. Dean can see where that’s true. Where Cas is competent and in charge when he’s a doctor and retreats to that whenever things get too weird for him.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Dean could be sure Cas was coming back. He could give him the time he needed, then. Hell, Dean needs Cas’ patience, too. See what a mess he made out of trying to communicate what he feels.

‘I love you, Dean,’ his Mom’s voice drifts through the years.

‘Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don’t look back.’

He thinks he has done that ever since. He’s been running and he hasn’t stopped to look back. He was always sure it would kill him if he did. As a result, love and loss are so intricately woven together in his mind that he doesn’t even know where one starts and one ends. So he tried not to look at that, either.

But that doesn’t work anymore. Hasn’t worked in a while, if he’s honest.

Even before Cas.

Because he has been killing himself. Slowly, and without consciously trying to, but the trajectory was clear. Or is clear to him now that he is sober. He had needed the accident to shake him out of that.

Rock-bottom. That’s what Cas had said. That maybe one day he’d look back at this and it would have been rock-bottom.

Look back.

There it is again. That phrase. Look back. Stop running.

It is loud. So much louder than you think it would be. Wood exploding from the heat, the beams bursting and falling, the wooden splinters like sharp missiles. There is the heat.
He thinks it’s going to melt off his face, so he clutches Sam closer to his chest. He can’t even hear him cry over the racket. ‘Don’t look back’, that’s what his father had said, but he looks back anyway. His father runs back into the house, wrapping his shirt around his mouth and nose in the process. ‘Dad!’ he screams after him but all that does is making Sam cry even more violently. He’s sure he’s never going to see either of his parents again. He’s sure the whole world is going to go up in flames.

“Dean? Dean!”

Balti’s voice makes it through the sound of the sirens and the smoke of the flames.

“Isn’t it weird,” Dean says and his own voice sounds strange to him because he is half-expecting the voice of a child but finds the timbre of a grown man, “that he froze to death when all he ever wanted to was to have died in that fire?”

Because he had lost his Dad in that moment, that moment that he ran back to get his Mom. He’d left a part of his soul in the ashes of the house.

“Are you alright?” Balti asks.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, because he sees it now. That you can’t run away, but you can’t run back into a burning building for the rest of your life, either. You have to look back and make your peace.

‘I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry this happened to you. To us. I’m sorry that I never looked back. I still love you, though. I’ll come visit your grave when I’m out of here.’

“You sure? You are crying,” Balti observes.

Dean doesn’t even make an attempt to hide his tears. He is mourning for his Mom and his Dad and for a life he could have had. And that’s alright. He’s allowed to mourn. “Yes, Balti,” he smiles through the tears, “I’m alright. I get it now. I know how to find solid ground.”

“And how’s that?”

“By looking back. And moving forward.” He doesn’t feel like adding any explanation to that.

“Does that mean you’re going to kiss Dr. Sexy?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head and chuckles when Balti’s face falls. “He’s the one freaking out about that, so that’s his call. But I’ll tell him.”

“That you want to kiss him?”

“Yeah.”

“That you want to wake up next to him instead of being woken by rise and shine?”

“Most definitely,” Dean’s tears are drying while he is laughing.

“That you want to do unspeakable things to him between that kiss and the morning?”

“Ehh, I might wait with that one until you’re out of the room,” Dean chuckles.

“You want him out of the room? I can comply with that. Good morning, gentlemen!” An unbelievably peppery Pamela Barnes strides into the room. “Or did you forget that you have a MRI adventure today, Mr. Milton?”

“I do?” Balti scrounges up his nose. “Has anyone told me that?”

Pam looks at his patient files. “Ordered yesterday by Dr. Novak. He didn’t tell you?”

“Uhh, I might have been preoccupied and forgot,” Balti flounders.

Dean answers his questioning glance with a shrug. He doesn’t remember, either.

Pamela looks unconvinced but she doesn’t comment any further, obviously respecting their wish not to throw Cas under the bus. “Well, you have an appointment with the radiologist in fifteen minutes. I’m going to take you down there now. If you want to take the newspaper or a book or something, appointments unfortunately usually do not mean you’re actually going to be in on time.”

“Umm, sure.” Balti takes his notebook and pen from the nightstand. “I’ll amuse myself by writing about angels some more.”

“Alright then.” Pamela unlocks the breaks of the bed. “We’ll take you down there as you are. We do have to move you for the scan, but the nurses in the radiology department will do that.”

“How long is he going to be gone?” Dean wants to know. It might not be his place to ask but he isn’t overly fond of the idea of being alone these days.

“Good question!” Balti exclaims. “I want to know that, too!”

“Until about lunch time. Depending on how many emergencies come in.”

“Lunch time? That’s like – hours! I’m going to miss Valle de la Noche! Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Dean snorts. “Sure, Balti. Not that I understand a word of it.”

“Ah,” Balti waves dismissively, “it’s easy to see whether Cecil and Carlos are kissing or not. Because you know, kissing is easy!”

“Got it,” Dean groans because yes, he’s heard him the first dozen times that he wasn’t quite so subtle about pushing him to kiss Cas, and also it’s Cas’ free day, so there will be no kissing or drama of any sort today.

“If all is settled, let’s go, Mr. Milton. We have a schedule to keep.” Pamela is friendly but determined and pushes the bed out of the door without any hitch.

Dean watches them go with mixed feelings. Yes, he has been alone for most of his adult life. But not at any time this week. He’s gotten used to always having someone next to him in the past few days.

He thinks about calling Sam just to hear his voice but dismisses the idea. His newfound friendship with his brother is fragile enough, better not come off as too clingy. Bobby hates phone calls during work hours, so that’s not an option, either. And the idea of calling Benny is not a comfortable one. Necessary, yes, but not comfortable.

But thinking of Benny gives him another idea so he snatches the notebook from the nightstand and opens Google. Contrary to what his brother may think, he isn’t all that pathetic with new technology.

He types ‘local AA meetings Kansas’ into the search field and it just snowballs from there.

He is deep enough into his research that he doesn’t even consciously realize the quiet knock on the door. It comes a second time already when finishes the paragraph he was reading. “Come in,” he calls out without looking up and bookmarks the page. There are so many resources online, it’s amazing. He already has seven tabs open because every link leads to at least two new ones.

“Are you busy?”

The voice stops him in his tracks. “Cas? What..?”

But he doesn’t manage to finish the question, because, sweet Lord, Cas is not in scrubs. Cas is wearing faded jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt that brings out the color of his eyes. Yeah, Dean doesn’t notice such things. Only he does.

The next thing he notices is that he is staring and that his mouth is hanging open a little, so he closes it with a snap and clears his throat awkwardly because there is definite heat pooling in his guts and goddammit Cas is looking hot and dignity is not Dean’s strength lately.

“Uhh,” he wrecks his brain for something intelligent to say, “it’s your free day.”

Cas nods. “Hence, the casuals.” He points at his outfit.

“Uhh, yeah, they’re nice.” Nice? ‘Come on, Winchester, you can do better than this,’ he admonishes himself.

“What were you doing?” Cas asks and comes over like it is the most normal thing for him to be here on his free day.

Dean still isn’t quite over the shock of seeing Cas without scrubs, and when he comes closer, a slight peach fuzz on his cheeks becomes visible. He’s been a meticulous shaver so far and Dean has to swallow hard and redirect his twitching hand to turning the notebook so Cas can read instead of reaching out and stroking his hand over Cas’ stubble. ‘Goddammit, Winchester, you aren’t 16 anymore. Get a grip.’

“Research!” Cas exclaims. “Can I?” he asks but sits down on the bed before Dean can actually answer. Not that he was going to complain. Cas goes through the different open tabs, nodding every so often. “This one is good. I’ve heard of that program before. This looks good, too.”

“Yeah, well, I figured in case things didn’t work out with that clinic, I’d better get an idea what else I can do,” Dean shrugs. “Pretty sure Benny’s going to help me out, too, but I kind of want to, you know, go into that talk with some information of my own.”

“Benny?” Cas asks and his brow furrows. “Isn’t that the guy…?”

And oh yeah, Dean hasn’t told Cas about that, has he? “Yeah,” Dean nods. “He’s – he’s not pressing charges. He’s becoming my sponsor instead. I called him about it yesterday.”

Cas looks surprised for a second but then his face lights up. “But Dean, that’s great news!”

Dean gives him an awkward little smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I’m so proud of you!” Cas squeezes his hand for a second before safely retreating to the notebook.

Dean isn’t quite sure what to make of any of this. It clashes in his head, somehow, Cas in blue jeans at his bedside. Not that he had much of an idea where they stood in relation to each other before, but he has no idea how to deal with this version of Cas. “Umm, Cas, I ain’t complaining, but really, what are you doing here?”

Cas frowns at him. “Visiting you of course.”

“It is your free day.”

“Hence, the casuals,” Cas repeats slowly what he has already said before.

“No,” Dean shakes his head, “I mean – why are you visiting me on your free day? Aren’t you glad that you’re out of the hospital for a day?”

“Should I go?” Cas asks and wants to hand the notebook back to Dean immediately. “Because I’d understand, you know. If you didn’t want to see me anymore, after…”

“Stop it, Cas,” Dean interrupts him. “You sound – like me! Don’t do that!” As if his head wasn’t messed up enough already.

Cas shuts his mouth but looks at him questioningly.

Dean runs a hand through his hair. God, why is this so hard? “I want to see you, Cas? Okay? Don’t ever question that.”

“Okay,” Cas says but he doesn’t elaborate.

‘Clueless,’ Dean repeats Balti’s conclusion about Cas to himself. He’s going to have to spell this out, isn’t he? “I should tell you…” he starts at the same time that Cas says “I should tell you…”

They both start laughing awkwardly.

“Umm, you first,” Dean says finally.

“No, you wanted to say something first.”

Dean huffs. ‘Wanted’ is maybe a bit of a strong word for this. He doesn’t want to say anything. Would be easier if Cas could just read his mind. Of course then he’d also read his thoughts about – his gaze strays towards Cas’ thighs, their shape so much more noticeable in blue jeans than in scrubs, and he is sure he’s blushing yet again. ‘Great, Winchester, just great,’ he sighs inwardly.

But he’s promised himself something, so he ignores his embarrassment. “Cas, could you put the notebook away for me?” Because if he bares his soul to Cas, then at least he wants to do it without distractions.

“Of course.” Cas shuts the laptop and puts it on the nightstand. Dean has no idea how he can be so calm, just waiting patiently for Dean to continue.

Unless of course he really has no idea what Dean is trying to say. Or unless he’s not feeling the same. Maybe he sees a charity case in Dean. Or a brother who isn’t quite as annoying as Gabe. Both of those are not options Dean would be very happy with. Unfortunately, there’s no way to find out without asking. Fucking hell.

“Cas,” Dean starts but still doesn’t know how to actually get the words out. “I ain’t good at this. At the talking. About my feelings and stuff.”

He grasps for Cas’ hand because he needs some kind of connection. Something to ground him. Cas folds his hands over Dean’s and there is a short rush of joy and happiness before Dean remembers that this doesn’t mean he’s gotten out of talking.

“Fuck, Cas, I don’t even know – I’ve been trying not to lose you from the moment I met you. I’d pretty much do anything for that. And goddammit this feels like ripping my insides out for you to stomp on. But I – I still have to tell you. If you – if you want to go then, I won’t hold it against you.”

There is a worried frown on Cas’ face now. “You don't have to say anything you don't want to, Dean.”

He huffs again. “I wish it could be that easy. But it ain’t. I have to tell you.”

Blue eyes, looking at him and searching for answers, seeing right through him and still not recognizing what Dean believes is written clearly on his face. Clear enough for fucking everyone but Cas to see it, anyway.

'Man up, Winchester. You don’t want to lose him? Then tell him,' he tries to rouse himself. Because yeah, there’s a risk that Cas is going to tell him to fuck off. But he also came in on his free day and he’s holding Dean’s hand and they have the room to themselves. If Dean doesn’t manage to man up now, he’s going to walk out of this hospital in a few days and walk out of Cas’ life. And fuck him if he’s going to let that happen. If Cas wants to walk out of Dean’s life after he knows what Dean feels for him, that’s his decision. But Dean isn’t going to leave without fighting for this. Because if there’s one thing that’s abundantly clear to him, it’s that he wants Cas in his life. So he takes this feeling and concentrates on it.

This buzzing feeling that fills his heart every time Cas is near. The butterflies in his stomach when Cas looks at him and he thinks he sees his own feelings mirrored in his eyes. The warmth that comes from touching Cas. Everything that’s been between the lines because fuck it, they’re messing it up every time they try to talk. Not this time, though. This time Dean is going to get it right.

“Cas,” he takes a deep breath and just rushes it out, “I’ve fallen in love with you. Have been falling pretty much from the moment I saw you.” His smile turns out edgy and insecure when he searches for clues on Cas’ face as to how he is taking this.

“Dean, I…” But words seem to fail Cas.

“It’s alright,” Dean says quickly even while his heart sinks. “I didn’t say it because I – I mean of course I’d want for you to feel the same thing. But I know,” he lets go of Cas’ hand and rubs his palms over his face, desperate to keep his emotions in check. “I know how I must look like to you. In a coma after driving drunk. Believe me, Cas, I understand.”

There are hands prying at his hands then, and after a second Dean gives in and lets his hands sink from his face. He doesn’t look up, though. Cause he’s not going to start crying. He’s not going to make Cas feel guilty about this. And he will if he looks at him.

“Dean.”

A soft touch to his jaw, urging him to look up, but too gentle, too tentative to actually push up his chin.

“Please, Dean,” Cas pleads and how can Dean refuse him anything when he uses that voice?

So he looks up and finds blue eyes trained on him from so close that his eyes have to flit from one eye to the other because he can’t concentrate on both. Suddenly his heart is beating wildly and all the hope he had already lost comes rushing right back in.

“Your eyes are the most amazing shade of green, do you know that?” Cas says and his hand is still on Dean’s face, cupping his jaw now, thumb stroking over the short beard that the week without shaving has left him with.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, because he doesn’t know, but also because it’s not what he needs to hear right now.

“Cas, please. This is more than physical attraction to me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous and you’re hot and –,” he swallows hard because he could get lost in a list of all the body parts that he wants to see and touch and figure out every curve of, but that’s not what he wants to say right now. “I fell in love with you, Cas. In love. With you.”

The rhythm with which Cas’ thumb had been stroking Dean’s face falters and the hand falls away. This time, it’s Dean who catches the hand, though, trying to force Cas to stay with him, not to look away, without actually forcing him to.

“I’ve got baggage, Dean.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, Cas, me too. I don’t care.”

There is a steep frown on Cas’ face as if he’s trying to process everything at once. It would make Dean smile, it reminds him so much of himself. But he’s too on edge for a smile. If Cas retreats now, his chance is going to be gone. Dean is pretty sure about that.

“Cas?” He tries to gently bring his attention back to the moment. “You don’t have to have the answers. Just tell me what you feel. That’s good enough.”

Cas looks at him like he’s grown two heads and yeah, ‘just tell me what you feel’ is not necessarily an adequate description of the process of laying out your heart and soul for someone else to stomp on, but hey, Dean’s made a start already, hasn’t he? His soul is already out there.

“Come on, Cas, put me out of my misery. Either you love me, too, or you don’t. Just tell me.”

“You love me?” The words stumble from Cas’ lips and damn, apparently there was another piece of his soul that Dean hadn’t bared yet.

He bites his lips but he nods and doesn’t take it back.

“I -,” for a moment it looks like Cas’ resolve is going to crumble again, but this time he pushes through, “I think I love you, too, Dean.”

Chapter Text

Dean’s sigh of relief is so deep that it makes him laugh from the sheer volume of it. “Oh thank God. You had me awfully worried there.”

Cas doesn’t laugh with him, though. His worried frown is still in place. “Dean, we – we still need to talk.”

“Okay,” Dean nods. “But Cas, let me revel in this for a second? Please? Because,” he wants to reach out and brush alongside Cas’ jaw, run his hands through his hair, draw him closer, but this is still too precarious for any of that, “I’ve never let myself hope. Every day, every time I saw you… God, Cas, I wish I had the words to tell you how happy it makes me to see you. How good it feels to be near you. How much I want you.” He’s clinging to Cas’ hand again because hands feels safe enough. “You’re so wonderful. And you’re so good to me and so kind and you’re…”

“Stop,” Cas interrupts and he shakes his head, “stop praising me, Dean. I don’t understand. How can you say all these things after all that I’ve said and done? How can you still want me?”

“Why shouldn't I still want you?” Dean replies because honestly – it’s Cas. How could anyone not want him? “Look, I've done a lot of stupid crap in my life and you’ve seen some of it, but God knows there’s more. I know I’ve got issues. So, you’ve got issues, too. Big woo hoo. I can deal with that. I will deal with that. As long as you want me, Cas, I’ll deal with any shit that comes up.”

There is a moment of silence after that while Cas thinks it over, but this time, Dean just waits. He has waited for so long, what is another minute. He would wait his whole life for Cas to figure things out if he had to.

“I do, Dean,” Cas finally says. “I want you. In every way.” It sounds like a heavy admission.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” Dean asks, because in his book it’s a good thing that Cas wants him.

Cas licks his lips nervously. “Dean, I’ve been a teenager when I last allowed myself to feel that for someone. And that - didn’t end so well.”

“Okay?” Dean asks carefully.

“I always thought that that was – punishment. For, you know…”

“For wanting a guy,” Dean completes the sentence because this one isn’t hard to guess.

“Yes,” admits Cas.

“Do you still feel like that? Like you should be punished? For – wanting me?” And wow, even with the heavy topic it feels good to be able to say that out loud and know that it’s true. Cas wants him.

Cas sighs. “I had honestly thought I had left that behind. But obviously I was wrong. I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t want to take my issues out on you.”

“I know,” Dean says because he does know.

“It’s just that –“

“You stuffed your feelings down for so long that they kind of took you by surprise?” Dean asks with a lopsided grin.

Cas nods.

“Tell me about it,” Dean huffs but he’s smiling because everything is so much easier now that he knows his feelings are reciprocated. “It’s been effing long for me, too, Cas.”

“But you’re open. And out.”

“I told my brother the other night, Cas. And only because he asked about you.”

“Your brother, yes,” Cas says and suddenly a smile appears on his face.

“Hey!” Dean complains. “Should I be jealous that you light up this much at the mentioning of my brother?”

Cas laughs outright at this, heavy mood apparently forgotten. “No, you really shouldn’t. But it reminded me that I’ve got something for you. Give me a second.” He jumps up and is out of the room before Dean can do so much as protest.

It’s only a few minutes, though, before Cas comes back. He has his arms behind his back but the thing he’s holding is too big to be completely hidden.

“Cas, is that my…”

“Ta da!” Cas brings his arms forward and, holy moly, that is his guitar.

“How did you…?” Dean asks and holds out his hand for the instrument.

“Your brother, of course. When you mentioned that you wanted to play for me… I couldn’t resist. I asked him whether he’d fetch it from your apartment. I’m sorry if I crossed all kinds of boundaries with that.”

Dean lets his hand glide over the smooth wood. The guitar is old and beat up, the lacquer partly gone from years of use, showing that it is a well-loved and often played instrument.

“No, Cas, it’s fine. Awesome, actually,” Dean says and plays a low chord. It’s out of tune. He shakes his head and sets to tuning the individual strings.

“Shoulda have played you more, huh? Was too far gone for that, sorry. But we’re changing that from now on.” He listens closely and finally nods satisfied. “Better.” Then he looks up at Cas again, who’s been watching him intently. “Any wishes?”

Cas shakes his head but says, “You said something about a rendition of a Kansas song?”

Dean nods. “Carry On my Wayward Son.”

“I think I’d like to hear that.”

Dean thinks for a moment and then strikes the first chord. He knows the song by heart. Actually, he knows every song he plays by heart, because he can’t even read sheet music. Never bothered to learn it. He just listens to the songs and makes up his own chords as he goes along.

“Carry on my wayward son / There'll be peace when you are done / Lay your weary head to rest / Don't you cry no more…” The lyrics come back easily, too. He’s always loved this song.

“Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man,” Cas muses after the last chord has died away, “that could be talking about me. And then the bit about the stormy sea of emotions and being tossed around like a ship on the ocean – kind of how you make me feel.”

“Is that good or bad?” Dean asks.

“Well, wasn’t there a bit about heaven waiting for me in there, too? Since according to my brother I’m a fallen angel, I have to look for my heaven on Earth, don’t I?” Cas replies with a cheeky grin.

Dean laughs. “Are you flirting with me, Cas?”

“It’s you who is singing these kinds of songs to me,” Cas answers without missing a beat.

“These kinds of songs, huh?” Dean chuckles. “Let me see then, which other songs of this kind I could play... Ah, I know.” He goes for cheesy and not altogether serious even though the lyrics fit a bit too well to sit entirely comfortable.

“Hold me close, hold me tight / Make me thrill with delight / Let me know where I stand from the start / I want you, I need you, I love you / With all my heart.”

It’s about then that he notices that he set out for cheesy but somehow has ended up intense and honest. That’s why he almost falters on, “I thought I could live without romance / Before you came to me / But now I know that / I will go on loving you eternally,” but he gets through it somehow.

“Won't you please be my own? / Never leave me alone / 'Cause I die ev'ry time we're apart / I want you, I need you, I love you / With all my heart.”

“Elvis,” Cas says quietly.

Dean nods, words having forsaken him for now.

“I will, Dean. Be yours. As long as you want me.”

There is an intensity in his statement that makes Dean’s mouth go dry. “That might be a very long time, Cas.”

“I’m counting on it,” Cas answers with conviction.

His eyes flit to Dean’s lips before looking back up to his eyes again, a silent question. Dean lays the guitar to the side, opening up space for Cas to come closer and he doesn’t hesitate, sliding up until he’s sitting so that his thighs touch Dean’s, their body warmth seeping through the layers of clothing and blanket.

He’s close enough now that Dean can smell the faint traces of scented soap. But he wants to be close enough to smell the man underneath, so he cups Cas’ face to pull him even closer. At the last moment, he stops and asks, “Are you sure?”, his voice already so dark with want that he barely recognizes it.

Cas nods, mouth half open and eyes on Dean’s lips again. It’s enough permission for Dean and he covers the rest of the distance between them.

It’s a soft kiss, gentler, so much gentler than what Dean is used to. Cas’ hands come up to Dean’s chest, not pushing him away, just maximizing the space where they’re touching. Cas’ stubble is soft and scratchy at the same time underneath Dean’s fingers, and his lips are impossibly warm. And even though the kiss stays gentle, doesn’t heat up with need or urgency, it lingers. They take their time, tasting each other, exploring with small movements. And when the kiss finally breaks, it’s hard to let go, so they end up with their foreheads leaning together, still sharing the same space.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispers because he feels it and right this second, it is easy to say.

“I love you, too, Dean.”

It is accompanied by a long exhale of air, as if Cas is only now relaxing, so Dean gathers him in his arms and Cas sinks into the touch.

They stay like that for a long while, warm, safe and content, until finally Dean grimaces. “Ow. Frikkin’ spleen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Cas immediately straightens away from him.

“’s alright, Cas.” Dean makes no attempt to draw Cas back in, the frikkin’ scar is hurting, but he draws a hand through Cas’ hair and revels in the way the short hair flows around his fingers. “So, you like Elvis, huh?”

“You don’t?” Cas asks in an almost scandalized tone.

Dean laughs. “I knew the song, didn’t I? So yeah, he’s cheesy but, you know, he’s better with the saying his feelings than I am. Though I guess that’s not too hard. He can’t do the other thing, though,” Dean says and tugs at Cas’ hand to get him to lean in close again.

“Not romantic, Dean, talking about kissing dead singers,” Cas chides.

“Elvis lives, man.” Dean tries his hardest to keep his face straight, but of course it doesn’t work. So he just leans forward and crowds into Cas’ space.

There is a sparkle of amusement in Cas’ eyes that slowly turns into something else when Dean lays a hand on his thigh, searching out the edge of Cas’ shirt, playing with the fabric which is falling loosely over the blue jeans.

Carefully, slowly, Dean’s hand is looking for the warmth of Cas’ skin under the shirt. “You okay with this?” he asks when Cas doesn’t move, doesn’t lean into the touch but doesn’t move away either.

Cas nods, his eyes blown wide.

Dean grasps his side then, holding him steady, and brings him in for another kiss. He keeps his eyes open until he sees Cas’ eyes flutter close.

Cas’ lips are more familiar this time. They seem more pliant, but at the same time Cas seems more adventurous than he was. When Cas’ tongue swipes over his lips, Dean’s mouth opens automatically. His breath stutters when Cas accepts the invitation and lets his tongue sweep into Dean’s mouth. Cas brings his hands up to Dean’s neck then, holding him still, and Dean lets him roam in his mouth, explore every crevice that he wants to explore, taste him as much as he wants to. Heat is already pooling in his groin and a small moan finds its way out of his throat when Cas drags his teeth along his lower lip.

“Cas,” he murmurs weakly against the other man’s mouth, not wanting this to stop but at the same time knowing that he needs to stop this now because he wants more, so much more, and he can’t. Not yet anyway.

But Cas just covers his mouth again, apparently having found his own pleasure in this and determined not to be distracted from it.

“Please,” Dean says and isn’t even sure what he’s asking, whether it is more or less that he wants.

But Cas’ hands hold him in place and he’s all too willing to let himself be held.

Finally, an eternity later, when his lips are red and swollen and he’s sure he’s going to have a beard rash tomorrow, oxygen becomes an issue and their kiss breaks. They are both panting hard and need a moment to find their voice again.

“Jesus, Cas, my mind was wrong about you,” Dean is the first to finally find words.

“I wish you would leave Jesus out of this,” Cas cringes slightly, “but I do want to know what your mind was telling you.”

Dean leans back into the pillows for support, still a little unfocused and out of breath. “It told me you were a great kisser. Didn’t tell me you liked to take charge.”

“Is that… Was that…” Cas is blushing and it might just be the most adorable thing Dean has ever seen.

“It was awesome, Cas,” he reassures him. “You’re welcome to do it again.”

“Now?” Cas asks and is already leaning forward.

Dean still chuckles when Cas’ lips are back on his because he thinks he has never heard anyone sound so unabashedly eager.

They settle into something of a rhythm, kissing and exploring, breaking apart when they need air, joking softly and back to kissing. They keep their touches above the belt-line and Dean lets Cas call the shots. He’s got nothing to complain about anyway, because now that he got over himself, Cas is becoming bolder with every passing minute.

“Ahem,” a voice finally startles them out of their trance.

Dean blushes furiously even before the owner of the voice registers consciously and Cas straightens up and away rapidly, look immediately haunted.

“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask whether I’m interrupting.”

Yeah, Dean is definitely embarrassed but he has no time to concentrate on himself because Cas’ whole body has gone rigid and it scares Dean. He really doesn’t want a repeat of the other night. So he just acknowledges Bobby with a nod but his attention stays with Cas. “Cas, man, it’s fine,” he tries to calm him down.

Cas flinches when he tries to take his hand, though.

“He ain’t gonna tell on us. You ain’t, Bobby, right?”

Dean looks pleadingly at Bobby, who fidgets uncomfortably. “Umm, should I just go again?”

“No, please,” Cas jumps up. “I should be the one who’s going. I just wanted to bring Dean his guitar.”

“Cas!” Dean is getting somewhat desperate here. “Please stay.”

“I shouldn’t… Dean, I… I’m still your doctor. This is still not okay…”

“Well, today you aren’t. Today you’re just my…” Boyfriend? “…friend. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re not wearing scrubs. Remember?”

That seems to register because Cas lets himself sink back down on the bed. He looks like all the air has been punched out of him. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t panic. I’m not even prone to panic normally.”

“It’s alright,” Dean replies and sneaks his hand back into Cas’, “I can’t be the only one with panic attacks, can I now?”

“You’ve got panic attacks, son?” Bobby interrupts with a frown. He gets the visitor chair and sits down heavily.

Dean’s gotta give it to Bobby, he takes everything in stride. Which in this case means that he pretty much ignores what he just saw.

“Umm, yeah, I kind of do,” Dean nods in answer to the question. And because he’s holding Cas’ hand and that makes him braver than he usually is, he adds. “Something to do with Dad, usually.” And because that sounded horrible, like he blames his Dad for his own failings, he goes on with, “not that he wasn’t a great guy. I mean, he raised us on his own and…”

But he doesn’t get further than that because Bobby and Cas snort simultaneously.

“Do you even believe the bullshit you’re spouting?” Bobby barks.

Dean shuts his trap then because he doesn’t argue when Bobby uses this tone. Also, he has no answer. Because yeah, he’d have followed his Dad off a cliff, but he has a feeling that objectively he doesn’t classify as a great guy.

“What did he tell you? I assume he did tell you about John,” Bobby asks Cas gruffly.

Cas looks questioningly at Dean who shrugs and nods. No need to lie to Bobby.

Cas still thinks about his answer for a moment. “I have an image of John Winchester. But it’s only partly what Dean told me. It’s mostly,” he looks at Dean again, worried this time, “mostly how Dean reacts to certain things.”

“What?” Dean asks. “What things?”

“I’m not sure we should be discussing this,” Cas says. “It’s my knowledge as a doctor, not just as your – friend.”

“You boys can say the word boyfriend in front of me, you know that, right? I ain’t going to get out my shotgun. I mean, not unless you hurt him,” Bobby glares at Cas.

Dean groans because yeah, he’s had the same conversation with Jess about Sam, but goddammit this isn’t necessary.

“I shall try my best not to hurt Dean then,” Cas replies levelly, “even though I have to inform you that I do come with my own set of issues.”

“Everyone does, kid,” Bobby shrugs. “Now, proceed. Let’s get to the bottom of this. I don’t have all day.” He waves vaguely at them.

Cas sighs. “Dean,” he turns back to him, “these are just observations. Please don’t take them the wrong way. But you have many scars. You say that you’re sorry a lot when you panic. You don’t seem to expect it to help. Gabe told me that you flinched away from him when he tried to wrap you in a towel after you panicked in the shower. These are textbook symptoms.”

“Of what?” Dean asks.

“Of someone who’s been abused.”

The word makes Dean sick and he tries to pull his hand away but Cas holds it tight.

“That bastard!” Bobby growls. His whole body is rigid with tension and his hands are balled into fists. “I mean, I knew that you pretty much raised Sam and God help me, I should have done something about that. But I didn’t know… I’d have beaten the living crap out of him for that!”

“Mr. Singer, please, calm yourself,” Cas interrupts. “You’re not helping. Look at Dean.”

Dean has to look at himself to notice that his hands have started shaking. Cas is already rubbing soothing circles over them with his thumb. “Fuck’s sake,” Dean murmurs and tries to still the movement. Of course that only makes it worse. “Why can’t that stop? I ain’t like this normally.”

“Shit,” Bobby lets himself fall back in his chair. “Sorry, son.”

Cas regards them both for a second before replying to Dean, “It happens because you have started to process things where you just denied them before. It doesn’t mean that you’re weak. I know that it sucks. But it’s good, actually. Because it’s necessary.” He sighs. “Chuck can explain this so much better than me.”

“That’s the guy from the clinic,” Dean says because he has to keep the conversation going to keep himself grounded.

“Yes. Did I tell you that yet? He wants to come by and meet you. See whether you’re ready to get better. You’ve got my glowing recommendations of course.”

“There’s an application test?” Yep, this is not doing anything to keep the rising panic at bay. He never did well in standardized tests, not in school, not when it was about a job. He barely got his GED. And only because Bobby made him. And even then he was sure he was going to fail. Oh God, he’s going fail. And this is important. He needs this. He needs it to get back on track and he’s going to fail the test.

“Dean,” Cas leans in, “look at me.”

There’s a hand on his jaw and then there are blue eyes. They’re real this time, not just figments.

“Breathe. It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”

And yeah, he remembers that, too. It helped. So he does what he’s told, just breathes in unison with Cas until it doesn’t feel like he has to force his breathing to slow down anymore. A slight smile appears on Cas’ face when he notices and Dean’s eyes are drawn to it. He licks his lips because Cas’ mouth looks so nice. Cas’ smile widens and he leans in and then there are soft lips on Dean’s and he feels like he’s floating. Because the abyss is still there, somewhere, under him, but right now it can’t hurt him, because he’s too light for gravity to make him fall.

“So, umm, if a panic attack happens, and, umm, you’re not there, that’s what we’re supposed to do?” Bobby asks haltingly.

Dean feels Cas’ chuckle vibrate against him before he straightens up and turns. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily include the kissing. But apart from that, yes, pretty much.”

Dean raises his eyebrows because – has Cas just made a joke about kissing like it’s the most normal thing in the world that he’s been kissing Dean?

“There’ll be warning signs before a full blown attack happens. A feeling like the other person isn’t 100% there. If you find that moment, you can maybe avert the attack. Stay as calm as you can. Be a safe place to go to. Stay close and make sure the other person doesn’t hurt themselves. Apart from that, you’ll have to find your own way how to deal with it. I know my brother likes to tell silly little stories to distract people from the cause of their panic. I try to make them focus on physically being in the moment, to bring their mind back. Whatever works for you.”

“Umm,” Bobby looks seriously out of his depth. “I think I’ll leave this stuff to Sam. I’m just going to break something.”

That actually makes Cas laugh. “Yeah, no. Dean is very strong, Mr. Singer, you won’t break him, no matter what you do.”

He doesn’t even look at Dean when he says it, so Dean is pretty sure it’s not said for his benefit. Does Cas actually mean that?

“I thought we were at Bobby already,” Bobby grumbles.

“You weren’t my -,” now he looks over at Dean, “boyfriend’s father back then. I respect my elders.”

The word makes Dean’s breath hitch but then the meaning catches up to him and he thinks he might be glowing from inside, he’s so happy.

Bobby scrutinizes Cas for a moment, then he nods. “Alright, I feel respected. You can still call me Bobby. Everyone does.”

“Alright then,” Cas nods. “It’s still Castiel.”

“Sure thing, Cas,” Bobby agrees.

Cas looks at Bobby for a long moment, but then gives in and just turns back to Dean. “You can help averting an attack, too, Dean. You can learn to notice when you’re drifting. Find someone to talk. Do your own breathing exercises.”

“Imagine your eyes…” And oops, he hadn’t really wanted to say that out loud.

Cas’ eyebrows rise but he just says, “Whatever helps.”

“It does. Help.” There is no use in denying it.

“I’m glad,” Cas smiles. “You do know that it’s you doing all the work, though, right?”

Dean gives him a slightly shaky smile. “I know that I could do it without you, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just glad I don’t have to. Is that bad?”

“No,” Cas smiles brightly, “no, that’s not bad at all.”

“Ahem,” Bobby makes his presence known and yeah, possibly Dean had already forgotten that Bobby is in the room.

“Umm, sorry,” Dean apologizes.

Bobby just mumbles something unintelligible and then says, “I would stay longer, but I can’t leave Garth and Charlie alone all afternoon. They’ll just yap about monsters and trolls and whatnot and nothing gets done.”

“Charlie stayed on?” Dean is surprised. He’s only met Charlie once, but she didn’t seem the type to do the bookkeeping for a garage for the rest of her life.

“She said something about the kingdom needing her?” Bobby shrugs. “I don’t get half of what that girl is saying, but by God, she’s good with numbers, so I ain’t complaining.”

“Well, at least Sammy’s got someone to geek out with when his girlfriend is back in Stanford.”

“Ha,” Bobby grumbles, “he’ll just start mastering for them or whatever it is and then they’re all holed up in the office and no one is working.”

Dean chuckles because that sounds like his brother. He has something else that he needs to talk about with Bobby, though.

“Umm, Bobby, I hate to ask but… Cas told me that I’ll get out of here on Thursday and –,” God, the words don’t come easier even with all the practice he’s had in the past week, “could you dry out the house before I get there? You don’t have to throw shit out, just – lock the bottles away somewhere and keep the key out of my reach.” He shuts up then because the two sets of eyes on him make him nervous.

There’s been moments, just moments, in the past few days that he’s forgotten that he is a washed-up drunk. Drudging it back up is a lot like emptying a bucket of ice-cold water over your head. He’s never been a fan of admitting what a failure he is, he is even less of a fan with Cas in the room.

“Already done, son,” Bobby replies but still looks stern. “What about your own place?”

“Ain’t nothing there.”

“You sure?” Bobby raises his eyebrows.

Dean nods. “I’m sure. Never much been one for drinking at home. Not as long as I could afford going to the bar, anyway.” And since he can hustle pool like no one else, the bar actually has been his main source of income lately. But there isn’t really a need to add that. Not when he has a job at Singer’s Garage lined up.

Bobby still looks skeptical and he guesses he deserves that. It’s not like he hasn’t been lying to them before.

“Sam’s got the keys. The place isn’t that big. Ain’t no secret spots to hide shit in, either. Go check for yourselves.”

“We will,” Bobby promises. Or threatens. Depending on how you see it. “Any other stashes I should know about?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. If there was a bottle of something in Baby, it’s going to be smashed anyway. And that’s it. He’s got the crappy hole he calls his apartment and his car. Pretty pathetic. Well, he guesses he also has Bobby. And Sam. And Cas now. So that’s a little less pathetic. Actually, it even makes him smile a bit. And surprisingly, both Bobby and Cas smile back at him.

“Alright then, son,”, Bobby stretches and gets to his feet, “I gotta get back. And I leave you in good company.” He gives Cas, who immediately tenses, a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I’ll send Sam by tomorrow. And I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean replies and he wishes he had better words to acknowledge how much Bobby is doing for him.

But Bobby just nods gruffly, puts his cap back on his head and is gone.

Chapter Text

There is a moment of silence after Bobby is gone.

“You okay?” Dean finally asks simultaneously with Cas asking, “Are you alright?”

They both smile and Cas says, “You first.”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, I’m good.” But because he has this new policy of being honest, he adds. “Kinda sucks, though, having to drudge up this shit when I’d much rather have something cool to say to impress you.”

Cas tilts his head in that way that he always does when he’s slightly confused about something. “But you do impress me, Dean. The way you’re handling this. You’re being very courageous.”

Judging by the way his face starts to burn, he’s blushing again. “Just trying to clean up the mess I’ve made.”

Cas smiles. “But cleaning up your own mess is always the thing that needs the most courage. Believe me, I should know.”

Dean doesn’t know whether this is about the other day or about Daphne, but either way, it’s a topic for another day. The only thing he needs to know right now is, “So, boyfriends?”

Joy and worry are warring on Cas’ face when he answers, “I’ve never really had… and it’s probably really unethical… but – yes?”

Dean watches him stumble over the words. This professional conduct thing is really important to Cas.

“So, do you want me to request a different doctor? It would kind of suck but since you are my boyfriend, I’d still get to see you, right? You’d come by on your own time?” It sounds clingy and needy but this day has been almost too good to be true. Dean’s worried that as soon as Cas leaves this room, it’ll all have been a mirage.

Cas opens his mouth but then he just closes it again without saying anything. He sighs and stares into space for a few moments. Finally, he shakes his head.

“I don’t think it’ll be necessary for you to request a different doctor. I know your case inside out and you’re only here for a few more days. I just – can I ask of you that we keep our distance while I’m on my shift? I’m not – I’m not sure how to proceed but I don’t think I can… Would it be rude of me to ask this?”

“Hmm, if I remember correctly, it was you who couldn’t keep his fingers off me before…” Dean teases. “So that might be more of a challenge for you than you think right now.”

Cas immediately bristles. “I can very well conduct myself professionally. I just didn’t have to before.”

“M-hm, is that why you freaked when Bobby came in?” Dean asks.

That shuts Cas up but not in a good way. A frown appears on his forehead and he looks unhappy.

“Alright, not a good topic,” Dean immediately amends. “Want to talk about it or want to pretend I didn’t say anything?”

“Dean, I…” Cas looks even more unhappy. “I’ve spent my life pretending to be someone I am not. I…”

“You’re in the closet,” Dean nods.

“Well, I let people draw their own conclusions. And since I don’t have relationships… Or didn’t have relationships until right now…”

“But Gabe knows.”

Cas sighs. “Yes. Gabriel knows. I had to explain my sudden appearance on his doorstep somehow. But my brother is actually pretty decent at keeping secrets, weird as that might seem.”

“So the other hospital staff don’t know.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Well, I guess that explains Demon-Meg.”

“What does Meg have to do with this?”

“Apparently, she has a crush on you.”

“She does?” Cas looks confused and that makes Dean smile. Not that he’d thought Cas had feelings for Meg, but there’d been a slight spark of worry.

“If I know this, you’ve got to be pretty oblivious not to notice, Cas,” Dean says.

“Umm, I’ve been told that I can be dense sometimes,” Cas replies and apparently finds his hands extremely interesting because he doesn’t look up.

Dean chuckles. “You’re also adorable.” Cas glares at him for that but Dean just laughs because that is even more adorable. Becoming serious again, he says, “So you want to keep it that way I gather? Stay in the closet for now?”

“I… That sounds horrible,” he looks dejected. “I have no courage at all.”

“Hey,” Dean leans forward and into Cas’ space to make him look at him, “that’s not true. You’re here, right? You told Bobby I was your boyfriend. That’s courage, right?”

“But…”

“It’s alright, Cas. You do this in your time. Just – don’t put me through the wringer again, okay? Please?”

Cas looks pained and he shakes his head fervently. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Okay,” Dean says. “Okay. Everything else I don’t care about. As long as I know that after you’re done being a doctor, when you’re just Cas, that you’re going to come back to me then.”

“Always,” Cas says and the word is big and scary but he sounds like he means it and instead of flinching away from it, Dean just soaks the word up and gives it a space in his heart.

“Always,” he repeats and Cas leans forward for another deep kiss. It starts slow and tame like the others, but then Dean’s hand is on Cas’ hip and Cas’ hand fists in his hair and draws him closer and…

“I tell you, this movie will be awesome. It will have everything!” Balti voice startles them and Cas almost jumps backwards from Dean.

Not fast enough, though, because Balti exclaims, “Oh!” and then “Ohhhhh!”

Pamela comes in after him and obviously hasn’t seen quite as much. “Dr. Novak! Don't you have the day off today?”

Dean can feel the tension in Cas rising, so he tries to make things easier and sits as far back as he can, leaning away from Cas. Not necessarily Dean’s favorite thing in the world to do.

Cas answers with a non-committal, “Yes, indeed.”

Pamela raises one eyebrow but then she shrugs. “Well, while you’re here, I’m running behind schedule and someone’s gotta help Dean take his first unsupported steps if we really want to send him home on Thursday. So if you’re up for it, I’d be grateful for the help...”

“Sure,” Cas nods and turns back to Dean while Pam turns her attention back to Balti. “Want to try this right now?”

“Umm, I guess?” Dean asks a little insecurely.

Cas shoots an uneasy glance in Pamela’s direction, but then he holds out his hands. “Here. I’ll help you stand up. Then we’ll try whether you can go a few steps without leaning your weight on me.”

“Shame, though, leaning on you is much funner,” Dean mumbles and earns a little smack from Castiel for that.

“Behave,” Cas whispers but Dean just grins.

There is no way to make it off the bed and onto his own two feet without Cas’ help. There are too many muscle groups involved, none of which seem to function the way they should. But once he stands, he finds his balance.

Cas lets go of his arms, but keeps close, prepared to catch him. “Ready to try?”

“Yes,” Dean says but he needs a moment because it is such a strange feeling, having someone else on alert to make sure he doesn’t fall, when usually it is the other way around. Or was, as long as he still had family in his life. The thought is upsetting, so he puts too much force into the first step and already almost topples over.

“Easy there, easy,” Cas immediately has two steadying hands on his shoulders. “Go slow.”

“You look good in jeans,” Dean answers and it’s inappropriate but it’s the first thing the comes to mind and that has nothing to do with how derailed his life is.

“No distracting. New try, come on.” Cas lets go of him again.

This time, it goes somewhat better. Dean manages to shuffle one foot forward and then the other without losing his balance. Now if it only weren’t so hard to lift his legs. “I got no idea how to get to my room.”

“Your room?” Cas asks.

“At Bobby’s. My room is on the first floor,” Dean presses out between gritted teeth because he is only halfway to the bathroom and already everything is hurting from the strain of walking and keeping upright.

“You might want to find a bedroom that you can reach without stairs for now,” Cas advises.

“Unlikely to happen. But on the plus side, hey, I’m absolutely not going to manage to sneak down the stairs to get booze. So they won’t have to lock me in.” It’s an attempt at gallows’ humor but even he knows that it isn’t very funny. Panting, he leans in the doorframe of the bathroom. “Can you wait?”

Cas nods and Dean makes the final few steps on his own. God, how he wishes that he’d be his usual self. Or his usual self minus the alcohol. He’d take Cas out for a nice ride in the Impala and they’d get some burgers or whatever it is that Cas likes best. Maybe go see a movie. Or just stare into the sunset somewhere before making their way back to find a room they can lock. Cause Dean can be romantic. And charming and witty and lots of things that he really really isn’t right now.

Sighing, he gets his bathroom break over with and makes it back to the door. “Help?” he asks Cas quietly and expects him to push his limits and tell him to try to get back to the bed on his own. But instead, Cas just nods and then there is a strong arm sliding under his and immediately he feels lighter and walking is easier.

Still, he is incredibly relieved when he can sink down on the bed again. “Wow, they should build the bathrooms closer to the beds,” he sighs.

“But then you wouldn’t get enough training. You’ll have to try this several times a day now. At least the standing up part. So that you can do it on your own when you’re back home.”

Dean nods. “Where’s Pam?” he asks when he notices that the nurse is nowhere to be seen.

“Went on to worse cases than us. Well, we do have Dr. Sexy…” Balti answers.

Cas rolls his eyes, but Dean can see the apprehension behind the nonchalance, and he wishes he could do something to help him. But Cas has to figure this one out on his own and the only thing he actually can do is to be there for him. And Dean swears that he will be.

“Well, actually, I should go. I have a stack of chores a mile high that need to be done today. But I’m glad that -,” Cas looks over at Balti, “- that we got some time to – talk about things.”

Dean raises his eyebrows and can’t keep the chuckle back. “Yeah, I most definitely enjoyed talking to you.”

Cas, predictably, blushes, but mumbles, “Yeah, me too,” before getting up and adding loudly. “I will see you two tomorrow morning, then.”

“We count on it,” Dean nods.

“Mostly he does,” Balti counters. “But you knew that.”

“I knew that,” Cas nods and waves goodbye.

As soon as the door is closed, Balti’s carefully neutral expression changes to one of pure excitement. “I want the details! Now! Spill!”

“What? What details?” Dean tries to evade.

“Well, obviously your doctor got more game than I thought. Good ploy, scheduling an MRI for me so he’d know when you’d be alone in the room. And who’s guitar is that? And did you get to play? Did you do what I told you to do?”

The onslaught of questions is too much to even follow, so Dean rides the wave until Balti’s babbling tapers out.

“I also figure I will never know whether Carlos and Cecil have kissed, since you obviously haven't watched Valle de la Noche,”

When this statement is followed by silence, Dean replies. “No, I haven't. I am sorry, Balti. I can google it if you want.”

“Yeah,” Balti answers drily, “I can virtually see how sorry you are, what with that big grin of yours and stuff.”

Dean hasn’t even noticed but he guesses, that he does indeed have a really big grin on his face. Because for the life of him, he can’t make the corners of his mouth go down.

“Well, tell me!” Balti demands.

“No,” Dean flat out refuses.

“Oh, come on. There’s a guitar, so there was singing, yes?”

“Possibly,” Dean tries to go for non-committal, but he still can’t wipe that grin of his face.

“Ohhh, I see. There was kissing, too! So you took my advice! Now that totally gives me the right to hear everything!”

“Nope.”

“But Dean-o,” Balti whines, “I gave you advice and I suffered through the claustrophobic MRI for you. You gotta give me something in exchange!”

“No, I really don’t,” Dean shakes his head.

“Hrmpf,” Balti pouts. Then he changes tactics. “Well, good thing then that I’m a writer and have a really active imagination. Think about all the dirty things I can make up that happened between you and Dr. Sexy! I’m sure Gabe wants to hear all about that.”

“It’s his brother for God’s sake, he doesn’t want to hear any dirty details!” Dean groans.

“So there were dirty details?” Balti latches on immediately.

Dean just groans again.

“Okay, was there romance then? Because guitar! Did you play for him?”

Dean is not getting out of this, so he finally gives in. “Great deduction, Sherlock.”

“I know, Dean-o. I sometimes surprise myself. What did you sing? Love songs? Ohhh, did you sing that song from Rent? That is like my favorite ever!”

“Which one?” Dean asks and notices his mistake only the next second.

“YOU. KNOW. RENT!” Balti shouts.

Dean drops his head into his hands. He is not going to recover from this one any time soon. “You can’t by any chance keep that to yourself, can you?”

“How many details are you going to tell me?” Balti asks back.

Dean grumbles but he says. “Okay. You win. You don’t tell Sam or Bobby about the musical and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

A bright smile lightens Balti’s features. “Awesome!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean shakes his head.

“Okay, most important things first! Did you kiss?”

“Yes,” Dean admits. “More than once if you need to know.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Balti exclaims and it is a totally inappropriate amount of glee. When he notices Dean’s questioning glance, he manages to look bashful and explains, “Gabe owes me a Strawberry Pie.”

“You had a bet running?”

“Ehh, yeah. Gabe was sure that his brother would never kiss you as long as you were in this hospital. I told him he underestimates the power of green eyes. So, well, a bet happened.”

“You’re horrible. Is that why you badgered me to kiss him?”

“What? No! My stakes weren’t that high. Had I lost, I’d have invited Gabe out for dinner. I’m going to do that anyway.”

“Hmm,” Dean isn’t quite so sure that Balti didn’t just want to win.

“No, Dean, honestly. I want the best for you. And I believe Dr. Sexy is good for you. And you for him.”

“Well,” Dean says because he’s not going to contest that, “in that case, you’re forgiven. As long as I get a piece of that pie, that is.”

“Unfair,” Balti moans.

“Tough luck. Don’t bet on other people’s love lives if you want to keep your pie to yourself.”

“Oh, it’s a love life now, huh?” Balti smirks.

“Oh be quiet. We were good. But -,” Dean has to stop because it sounds too much like something he made up in his mind.

“But what?”

“But – the word boyfriends might have been used.”

Balti doesn’t even answer, he just squeals and it sounds so funny that they both end up laughing and breathless.

Chapter Text

After lunch, Dean grabs his guitar again. It’s been so long since he’s played regularly. He strings together random chords, trying to play as quietly as he can because he’s pretty sure that Demon-Meg will use the excuse that he’s disturbing other patients to take the guitar away if he gives her the chance.

“So,” Balti says, “can you play it? The song from Rent?”

Dean rolls his eyes but he plays the first few chords of Seasons of Love anyway. “That’s the one I assume?”

“Oh yes! I love this song.”

So Dean plays the rest of the song for him, too. He doesn’t sing, though. Balti isn’t Cas and he doesn’t want him to know how emotional he is today. Or that his face had leaked when Angel died in the musical.

There is no future, there is no past. I live this moment as my last. There's only us. There's only this.

The lingering sadness of so many lost years mixes with the deep joy of today when he plays a bridge to lead over to this song. It isn’t the same for them. They have a future. Or so he hopes at least.

Because: Kisses. Boyfriends.

The word in itself seems unreal. That’s the one disadvantage of having had the room to themselves. He can’t ask Balti whether he just made all of this up in his mind because he wants it so much. Well, he could ask Bobby, he guesses. But he isn’t quite ready to show all his crazy to him.

Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other path, no other way, no day but today.

It is easier said than done, forgetting regret. But he’s good with focusing on today for now.

Cas’ lips on his. Cas’ stubble rubbing against his skin. Cas’ hand on his cheek guiding him.

Yeah, he didn’t make this up after all. Because he didn’t expect the abandon with which Cas was kissing. The rhythm of the song falters when his mind drifts to thoughts of whether that abandon translates to other activities. He licks his lips which are suddenly dry and tries to concentrate on the song again. Still, he would give a lot to kiss Cas again and see where that leads. Actually, he’d like to do that right now, please.

A knock on the door tears him out of his thoughts. He stops playing immediately and prays that it isn’t Meg who’s coming to take the guitar away. But it isn’t. A small Asian woman enters the room.

“You should learn to play a real instrument, young man. That didn’t sound all that bad for the fact that it was played with a modern string instrument. You could be practicing more, though, your bridges were awfully slow.”

“Mama Tran!” Balti exclaims. “Now that’s a surprise!”

“I am not your mother. I keep telling you,” the woman snorts.

“I know, Mama Tran. But Kevin is like a brother to me!”

“Well, hopefully he doesn’t see that the same way. I do not want your attitude to rub off on him.”

Balti laughs at that. “You’re safe there, I think. Dean, this is Mama Tran.”

“It’s Mrs. Tran, thank you very much. Being a mother is part of my identity but it is not all that I am.”

“Umm, hello Mrs. Tran,” Dean says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ha,” she looks him up and down, “so you’re that Dean character that my son told me about.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean answers politely and what did they talk about with Kevin that warranted telling his Mom about him?

“Well, he wasn’t wrong. You look like you could use some of my soup, too.” She reaches into the oversized bag that she placed on the visitor’s chair and gets out two thermos-mugs. She places one in front of Balti and the other one in front of Dean. “Eat. Now.”

“Umm, what’s this?” Dean asks and earns a glare for that.

“It is soup. Hot soup. Many spices. It is the best for healing. Hospital food does nothing for that.”

“No argument there,” Dean murmurs. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

She nods at this. “At least you have some manners. Unlike Balthazar.”

“I have manners! They just ain’t that good,” Balti smirks.

“You could show a little gratitude for our hospitality. That’s all I’m saying,” huffs Mrs. Tran.

Dean tries the first spoonful of soup and it immediately brings tears to his eyes. Oh yes, this soup is spicy indeed.

“I am grateful, Mama Tran. I’m just also not as much of a fool as you think I am.”

“You fell of my roof for it and the rain gutters still overflow when it’s raining. How is that not foolish?” Mrs. Tran asks in a strict tone.

“I’ll just eat my soup now…” Balti concedes.

Mrs. Tran nods again, satisfied. She sits down and watches them eat for a few minutes. Then she says. “I’ve hired a professional to clean out the gutters, now. It is obvious that you are not a handyman.”

“Oh thank God,” Balti answers. “I’m happy that you noticed that now. Though I have been trying to tell you for months.”

“Well, I held out hope. But I see now that it was unfounded. You are the artistic type, even though your art is not very good. We will have to find a way to improve your capabilities.”

“Tell me again how you’re not my mother?” Balti sighs.

“Obviously, someone has to take it upon themselves to further your education.”

“Obviously,” Dean smirks and earns a glare from Balti for it.

“And what about you, Dean?” Mrs Tran rounds in on him. “What have you done lately to improve yourself and your abilities?”

“I, umm,” have stopped drinking? That doesn’t sound like something that would impress Mama Tran. Especially not, when it’s in conjunction with drunk driving.

“I thought so. Do you have a college education?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head.

“Why not?” Mrs. Tran challenges.

“We needed the money, so I dropped out of high school as soon as I was old enough,” he shrugs.

Mrs. Tran tsks. “That is no excuse. My son told me your brother got into Stanford on a scholarship?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean nods and smiles because he is and always will be proud of Sam.

“So obviously your failure to get a college education is a lack of application to the task, not a lack of inherent talents.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean answers quietly because what she says is harsh, but he can’t really contest that he didn’t make an effort to go to college.

“So, why didn’t you apply yourself?” she asks.

He shrugs again. “I just never considered it. I’m a decent mechanic.” Also quite good at hustling pool, petty theft and other things he’d rather not mention to Mrs. Tran.

“The fact that you’re good at something should make you want to be better, not be an excuse to be lazy,” Mrs. Tran frowns.

“Mama Tran,” Balti tries to come to his rescue, “Dean pretty much raised his brother on his own. His priorities were different. It has nothing to do with lazy.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Tran concedes, “but his brother is grown up, yes? So his priority can change to his own education now.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that,” Dean says.

“Why?” Mrs. Tran looks puzzled. “Do you have your GED?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean nods.

“Well, there you go. Find yourself a community college program that you like. Go to school part-time while you work as a mechanic if you have to. Work towards an engineering degree. Start your own business once you’re done.”

“Mama Tran, cut Dean some slack, won’t you?” Balti sighs.

But Dean shakes his head. “No, that’s alright.” Because actually, it’s been a long time since he’s thought about any of this. At some point, he had just assumed that holding down a steady job wasn’t for him. That the alcohol would always get in the way. But now…

There is no future, there is no past. I live this moment as my last.

He doesn’t want that anymore, right? Things have changed. He wants a future. He wants a life. So why shouldn’t he think about a career? Cas has one. Dean can’t very well hustle pool when he lives with Cas.

Whoa.

Okay, he needs to take a big step back here, because he’s going to be living at Bobby’s, not with Cas.

But still. A career.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he says quietly. “I will be thinking about this.”

“Attaboy,” Mrs Tran smiles. Then she turns back to Balti. “See, it is not that hard. You just have to listen instead of being defensive.”

Balti rolls his eyes. “You had to, Dean, didn’t you? Now her opinion of me is even lower than it was.”

“Have you eaten your soup?” Mrs. Tran talks over him.

“Yes. It was awful. I don’t like spicy foods,” Balti answers.

“Well, maybe that is why you have no motivation. You should eat better food.” She collects Balti’s thermos. “What about you, Dean?”

“It was a very good soup. Thank you,” Dean replies, even though he’s reasonably sure that after the bland hospital food the soup will give him serious digestive troubles. But he is thankful that Mrs. Tran included him in her food delivery even though she didn’t know him. Makes him feel like he’s a part of Balti’s family somehow.

“I like to hear that,” Mrs. Tran nods and puts his thermos into her bag again, too. “I have to go get Kevin from his Cello class.”

“Tell him Hi. He’s welcome to come by and amuse us with stories about angels again.”

Mrs. Tran frowns. “When he’s done with all his work, he can come by. I’ll tell him that.”

She nods at them again and strides out of the room.

“Whew,” Balti exhales when she’s gone. “I’ve known her for months and I’m still scared of her.”

“Well, you didn’t promise too much,” Dean says absentmindedly and already reaches for the notebook. “She does try to improve you.”

“It worked, too, huh?” Balti chuckles.

“I don’t know… maybe. I' have some research to do,” Dean answers.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. You okay with Law and Distraction in the background?”

“Sure,” Dean nods but he’s already concentrated on his internet search. It’s too early of course, starting anything before he’s even gone through the clinic program. But it doesn’t hurt to know.

Because Mama Tran was right about one thing, his own education and career had never been his priority. Not while he was saving all his money for Sammy. Not after his Dad’s death, when he barely knew how to cope. Not when the alcohol had taken over his life. But now he’s boyfriends with a doctor. He wants to pull his weight.

And if he knows one thing about himself, it’s that it’s better to do the research while the idea is still fresh in his mind and before he can convince himself that it won’t work anyway. So he googles community colleges, Kansas, bachelor’s degrees.

Chapter Text

He is deep into his research, when a loud “Hellooooooooooo darlings!” disturbs him.

“Darlings?” Balti asks, his eyebrows immediately raised in disapproval.

“Aw, sweetie. I am glad to see you, too.” It takes Gabe only two steps to be at Balti’s side and give him a kiss.

“It's good to finally be the one who gets the kisses again,” Balti says with a wink and Gabe looks at him questioningly.

“No,” Dean states because he knows exactly what Balthazar is trying to do here and he doesn’t want to go there. But of course all it does is to make Gabriel suspicious.

“Dean-ooooo, what does that mean? Was my brother here?” Gabe hones in on him.

“I said No,” Dean answers flatly.

“He wasn’t here or you don’t want to tell me? Ohhh… He was here, wasn’t he? Does this mean...? Dean-o, I need to know. Tell me!”

Dean shoots Balti a look that is supposed to say 'I’ll kill you' but Balti acts like he doesn't see his glare at all.

“Dean-ooooooooo...,” Gabe is whining now and Dean can definitely see the ‘little brother’ factor here but he is used to Sam's puppy eyes and Gabe's just can't reach the same level of pathetic. At the same time, he is also sure that Gabe won’t let him sleep tonight if he doesn’t get an answer. But once he starts talking, Gabe will want to know details. And the details are all between Cas and him and he doesn’t want to share them. Because he’s greedy like that. So that’s a no-win-situation. But then of course, Balthazar could tell him. He knows enough to satisfy Gabe’s curiosity. That doesn't sound like a bad idea.

“If you really have to know, just ask your boyfriend,” Dean answers. “I’m in the middle of something here and he loves talking so much more than me…”

“What? So Balti knows? But you don't want to tell me? I am hurt,” Gabe says over-dramatically while he clenches his hands over his heart.

“Because he likes me more,” Balti says with a big grin.

“Ouch,” Gabriel answers, looking even more sad. It's almost Sammy level now. Only almost.

“Oh, my poor little sweetheart. Can't handle the truth,” Balti teases him while he pats his hand. Dean rolls his eyes and wonders why he puts up with those two idjits and how on Earth he deserves this.

But then he remembers that on more than one occasion in the past few days, one of the two has come to his help. Even against Cas. They’ve both defended him. They’ve become his friends.

And that’s a weird feeling because Dean hasn't had friends for … for so long he can't even remember if he ever had one. Besides Sammy, of course. But Sam is also his brother. So he isn’t sure that counts. Yep, actually, he’s pretty damn sure that he’s never had a close friend apart from Sam. Cause they were always moving again anyway. It didn’t make sense. And later… No attachments but Baby.

Dean sighs deeply. He isn’t sure he gets how this whole friendship thing works yet. But he’s willing to give it a try. Because yeah, he actually likes these two idjits and they seem to like him, too.

“You don’t know it yet because you just came in. If you were lying in this room the whole day, you’d know the same as he does,” he finally says.

“Oh, come on Dean-o. Admit you like me better than Gabe,” Balti complains jokingly.

“You are such a child sometimes,” Dean replies.

Balti huffs, “You sound like Anna when she’s scolding me.”

“Yeah, Cas gets that tone, too,” Gabe adds.

“Well, Cas isn’t the only big brother around,” Dean answers. “I’ve got training.”

Balti chuckles. “Like that giant moose of a brother you’ve got ever needs you scolding him.”

Dean’s face gets a little tighter at this. Yeah, his brother got his life together where Dean doesn’t, but it is still a low blow.

“Speaking of brothers...” Gabe starts and Dean knows what’s going to come next. “Dean-o, please I want to hear it from you.”

After Balti reminding him so elegantly about how insufficient a human being he really is, Dean has even less interest in talking with them than he had before, but Gabe is not going to let him of the hook, so he might as well get over with it. “Yes, Cas was here, okay. Happy now?

“See, Balti, he likes me, too,” Gabe says smiling smugly.

“Well, he didn't tell you about the love songs or the kissing.” Balti crosses his arms in front of his chest and turns his chin up.

And what the hell exactly is it that Balti tries to achieve here? Apart from pissing Dean off, that is.

But Gabriel is oblivious. “Love songs and kissing?” he shouts with glee and claps his hands like an over-excited 8-year-old.

Dean grips the notebook so tight that his knuckles are turning white. How is he the one who gets told that he needs to grow up, when everyone around him is behaving like they’re still in middle school? This is his private life. It’s none of their fucking business.

Gabe is this close to his bed now, though, and Dean already anticipates Gabe shaking him in his excitement. Dean isn’t really sure he trusts his own reactions right now, he might punch Gabe if he touches him, so he quickly says. “Cas brought my guitar. So yes, there were songs.”

“And kisses?” Gabe asks with wide eyes.

“Go ask your brother if you’re that interested.”

“Yes, there were kisses, I saw it with my own eyes!” Balti chimes in.

Dean stares blankly at his notebook and tries to even out his breathing so that he doesn’t lash out angrily. He might be taking that friend thing back.

“Ooooh, this is great!” Gabriel positively glows. “I shall bake a cake in celebration! I am so proud.”

“That is so unfair I don't get cake for kissing!” Balti pouts.

“But you get pie. Strawberry it was?” Gabe says.

“Yes!” Balti shouts and his smile is back.

Gabe laughs, too, and Dean breathes out in relief when he makes his way back to Balti’s bed and draws his boyfriend in for a kiss. Because at least he won’t accidentally hit him now. Slowly, very slowly he unclenches his hands from the notebook.

He tries to concentrate on the available college courses. He really does. But he’s still fuming. Balti said he was his friend. Friends are supposed to have your back, right? Even he knows that much. They’re not supposed to joke about things that hurt you. Not even when it’s obvious like the fact that Sam’s doing much better in life than Dean.

A part of Dean still wants to punch Balti or Gabe or both of them and handle things that way. A few drinks and he would have done just that, injured or not. He’d have lost the fight, at least against Gabe, but he never cared about much about that. Being punished is something he’s used to. He’s got a pretty high pain tolerance, too. Ended him in a bloody heap somewhere in a back alley more than once.

But he isn’t drunk now. And as much as the urge to fight is there, he knows there are other ways to handle this. Like not ever talking to Balti again. Then of course, that’s going to be less than fun in the next few days. He grits his teeth because that leaves only one option. Talking about it.

He hates it, but still, as soon as Gabe is out of the door, Dean closes his laptop and says: “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am,” Balti answers with a frown.

“What was all that about then?” Dean spits.

“What do you mean?” Balti sounds honestly puzzled. “I didn't say anything.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, okay, I told Gabe about the kiss. But I did it because you are my friend.”

“Is that so,” Dean states flatly.

“Well, would you have wanted him to find it out by walking in on Cas and you?” Balti asks, becoming somewhat defensive.

Dean just raises his eyebrows. “They don't even have the same shift right now, so I don’t see how that’s a relevant option.”

“Okay, point taken.” He shrug. “I guess Cas would have told him anyway, but I at least got a little fun out of it.”

“So it was just for your own amusement,” Dean confirms for himself.

“Possibly? But – look - I'm sorry if I said something wrong.”

“Yeah. I know that tune,” Dean can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Dean?” Balti sounds worried now.

“Look, just let it be, man,” Dean replies dismissively and starts typing on his notebook to make clear that this conversation is over.

There are a few minutes of silence, then, “Want to watch the repeat of Valle de la Noche?”

“Whatever,” is all that Dean can bring himself to answer.

“Dr. Sexy is on, too, but it’s only a rerun of season 5 and I know that by heart by now, so I’d much rather find out if Cecil and Carlos get together.”

“Knock yourself out,” Dean shrugs.

“You’re not the least bit interested?” Balti asks hesitantly.

“Can’t you give me a moment of peace?” Dean bites and Balti’s lips turns into a small line before he presses the on-button on the remote.

The familiar Spanish voices fill the room and Dean relaxes a bit though the bitter taste stay on his tongue. He has re-read the same paragraph of the college website three times when he notices that it doesn’t make sense to keep looking while he can’t concentrate. He closes the notebook with a sigh and watches Valle de la Noche after all. But Cecil and Carlos are hardly even in this episode, so there’s nothing to hold his attention. He closes his eyes instead and tries to go back to the afternoon, to the sweet lips on his. But all he can hear is I’m sorry on a repeat loop in his mind. The different voices mix and mingle, his own as usual the most frantic among them. But they are all there, Balti and Gabe and Cas, Sam and Bobby and his Dad. Everyone is sorry. Always sorry for what they did… Only, it’s never enough to stop them before they do stuff…

“I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry,” his father sobs. His Dad is huddled on the floor, fallen over after the exertion of the beating, but he makes as if to hug him and every muscle in Dean’s body tenses.

He doesn’t want to. He wants to run and not smell the alcohol on his father’s breath. Not hear his sobbing and see how wrecked he is. Instead he steps forward, because his father is not coordinated enough to actually come the step forward to hug him. “It’s alright, Sir. Let’s just get you to bed.”

“No, no, it’s not alright, I’m a terrible father,” his father sobs and crushes Dean into a bear hug that actually makes him cry out because his Dad is too gone to remember that he’s got his arms right over the fresh lashes.

“Dean?” A tiny voice says from behind.

He bites his lips because his hands are trapped under his Dad’s arms and he can’t wipe his tears off. So he doesn’t look around, doesn’t look at Sam. Instead his gaze is drawn to the point where the belt still lies under a chair. “Go back to bed, Sammy. I’ll help Dad and then I’ll be with you in a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam says quietly but he doesn’t move, the only sound being the ugly sobs his Dad is making.

That won’t do. “Go to bed, Sam! Now! Put the blanket over your head and don’t listen.” This time, it is a command and he hears shuffling feet. Satisfied, he turns his attention back to his Dad. “Let go of me, Dad.” He notices his mistake the next second. “I mean, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t want to order you around.”

But he’s lucky because his Dad’s hands fall limply from his back and he buries his face in his hands, a pile of misery on the dirty carpet.

“It is late, Sir, and Sammy can’t sleep when we’re still up. But he needs to go to school in the morning. We need to get to bed.” He pulls at his father’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I just wish your Mom was still here…”

‘And don’t we all?’ Is what Dean is thinking, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead he just drags his father up from the floor, ignoring the immediate pain when his father leans his full weight on him.

“You’re a good son, Dean, you’re a good son…”

He doesn’t answer this one, either. His back tells a different story.

He deposits his father on his bed and kneels in front to untie his shoes. Shoes, socks, jeans, plaid, he helps him out of one item of clothing after the other. His father falls over without any prompting and Dean draws the covers over him. Then he folds the clothes carefully onto a chair. By the time he has retrieved the belt from the floor and put it on top of the stack, his father is already snoring.

He slips into the bathroom quickly, surveying the damage to his back, but it doesn’t seem too bad. He can’t take a shower right now anyway, the risk of his Dad waking up again is too big. So he just sighs and turns off the lights. He slips under the covers of the bed he’s sharing with Sam. His breathing is not even enough for him to be sleeping. Dean grits his teeth. He’s trying so hard to be quiet. To never make a noise in the hopes that Sam sleeps through all of this. But when his Dad breaks down like this, all his hard work is for nothing.

He turns his back to Sam, showing him that he doesn’t want to talk. He should tell him that it’s okay, he guesses, but he doesn’t have the energy. He doesn’t even have the energy to hold back the tears that silently drop down to the pillow.

He hisses in pain when a small hand touches his back.

“Sorry,” Sam whispers immediately. There is a moment of quiet and then, “Dean?”

“Sleep, Sam.” But he can hear that Sam’s breathing doesn’t get any shallower. So finally, he gives in. He rolls on his stomach to turn over. Lying on his back will be impossible for a few days. “It’s alright, Sammy. It’ll all be good. You’ll see. One day we’ll be grown up and it’ll all be good.”

Sam’s hands grab his and he doesn’t want to, but he still draws him close, lays his arm around his back and in the comfort of each other’s body warmth they finally fall asleep.

Dean wakes with a start. The TV is turned off, so are the overhead lights. He squints but can’t make out the clock. It’s the middle of the night, that much is clear. And he’s drenched. Dammit. He can’t fall back asleep soaked in sweat. Not that he’s sure he wants to fall back asleep.

Sam’s little hands grabbing his.

That’s by far the worst part of the memory he dreamt about. The fact that Sam woke up. He hated it when that happened. He hated the looks Sam gave him in the morning. He hated the way Sam hurried to do every task even before Dean asked him to do them. It was days, sometimes weeks until he could get Sam to give him some sass again. He’d scold him of course, but he was always relieved when Sam finally talked back. When he got some sign that Sam’s spirit wasn’t broken.

He fishes for his cell phone. It’s not drunk-texting, because he isn’t drunk. So that’s something. He types out the message quickly and sends it before he can think about it too much.

Dean: Don’t ever stop being a bitch.

Then, because he’s pretty sure the message is cryptic, he types a second one.

Dean: Sorry. Been dreaming about the past. You’re the best brother.

Then he deletes the last sentence before he sends the message. Otherwise his brother will think that he’s drunk-texting.

That leaves the matter of being drenched. Asking for help is not his favorite thing in the world, but he remembers the few steps he did on his own today. So he grudgingly presses the call button.

It’s only a few minutes before Gabe appears in the door. He stops for a moment, letting his eyes adjust from the bright outside lights to the soft night light in their room, probably. “Dean?” he asks quietly and comes over.

“I need help,” Dean sighs.

“What’s up?”

“Nightmare. I’m soaked.”

“Oh, okay,” Gabe nods. “You alright now?“

“Just would very much prefer dry clothes.”

“Okay.” Gabe doesn’t ask anything else and just fumbles for the duffel bag under the bed. “Can you make it to the bathroom to change? We don’t want to wake up Balti, do we now?”

Dean manages a half-grin. “Thought you might want to.”

Gabe chuckles quietly. “Nah, he’s grumpy when he doesn’t get his beauty sleep.”

Slowly and carefully, they make it to the bathroom.

Dean winces when Gabe turns on the bright overhead lights after the bathroom door is closed.

“Yep, you’re soaked,” Gabe sighs. “I think you soaked me, too.”

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles.

“Nah, it’s alright. Here.” He holds out a fresh shirt and underpants for Dean. “Want to talk about it?”

“Thanks. And no.” He grabs the bottom of his shirt to push it over his head and the pain from the scar makes him grunt.

“Let me help,” Gabe stands next to him in a second and drags the shirt over Dean’s head without a problem, “I called Cassie by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. Told him what Balti told me. Just so he’d know that I know.”

“He okay with it?” Full sentences seem to be beyond Dean at this moment.

“The word he used was unavoidable.”

Dean chuckles. That sounds like Cas. “Wish I could call him.”

“You don’t have his number?” Gabe asks surprised.

“Nope,” Dean shakes his head. The new shirt feels nice on his skin, immediately warming his clammy skin.

“Hmm. I’d give it to you, but Cassie is particular about this kind of stuff. So you better ask him yourself.”

Dean just struggles to get back to his feet to change out of his pants.

“Don’t want to ask? Still scared he will cop out?” Gabriel asks. “Because I don’t think you need to be.”

“What d’you know?” Dean challenges, though his words are too slurred from the effort of moving to be much of an actual challenge.

“Hmm, I know that he said I should take good care of his boyfriend…” Gabriel smiles and helps Dean into the new pants. It’s still weird how efficient he can be when he wants to.

“He said that?” And yeah, that’s a small smile that spreads on his lips.

“Words that have never before left Cassie’s lips. I think his cake needs to have three layers of chocolaty goodness at least.” He stands up. “And done. You good to go back to bed?”

“Yes,” Dean nods.

“Alright then.”

When he’s back in bed, the bitter aftertaste of the fight with Balti is gone. Instead, he smells the sweet honey-fragrance of Cas’ hair, he remembers the eagerness in his eyes when he leaned in for a kiss and he also remembers the earnestness in his voice when he said I’m sorry, the resolve so different from the drunken stupor that was the only time his Dad ever said he was sorry.

Maybe he’s gullible or maybe he just wants this too much, but he believes Cas. And he believes in him. And in them.

With that thought, he falls asleep again.

Chapter Text

"And? Did they kiss?” is the first thing Dean asks Balti when he wakes up in the morning.

“I thought you didn’t care.”

So he’s still pissed. Well, Dean would probably be, too. So for once he decides to explain. “That thing you said about me and my brother. About me having no right to scold him. I took it the wrong way.”

“Oh,” Balti’s face falls. “Oh! But I didn’t mean it like that!”

Dean just nods tightly.

“Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles because he desperately doesn’t want to make even more of an issue out of this. “Now, did they kiss?”

“No,” Balti says sadly. “There was an Earthquake. The intern died. And Cecil and Carlos didn’t even have a scene together.”

“Sorry,” Dean says empathetically.

“Yeah, it’s hard when your OTP is kept apart.”

“OTP? What is an OTP?”

“Oh, you’re so young and innocent, I don’t want to be the one to corrupt you,” Balti answers.

“You think about that only now?” Dean asks with a bellowed laugh.

“Ehh, that’s true, huh?” Balti chuckles and promptly begins to educate Dean about OTPs and fanfiction and shipping.

“So,” Dean summarizes, “that’s why Gabe was talking about shipping stuff all the time?”

“Well, not stuff. He was talking about his brother and you. He shipped you from the first moment. But then, he’s an unapologetic slash shipper.”

“Do I want to know?” asks Dean carefully.

“No, you really don’t. Unless you want images of Gabe watching you and Cas while the two of you…”

“Stop right there!” Dean exclaims.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Balti chuckles.

There is a hesitant knock on the door.

“Please come in,” Dean calls out. “We could really need a change of topic here!”

“Uhh, hi!” The small bearded guy in the door gives them a shy wave. He fidgets a little when he asks. “Which one of you is Dean Winchester?”

“That’s me,” Dean says with a frown.

“Uhh, ok then, allrighty…. I’m sorry to disturb you so early,” he’s wringing his hands now. “But I have so much work and it is easier to come in early in the morning. But I’m aware that you haven’t even had your breakfast yet and I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s alright?” Dean says questioningly. “Mind if I ask who you are?”

“Oh! Oh yes, of course. I should tell you my name. I’m, umm, I’m Chuck Shurley.”

Dean didn’t know there were people who had to pause before saying their name, but he remembers where he’s heard it before. “You’re the director of the clinic.”

“Director is such a big word. I prefer counselor. That’s all I really am, a counselor. I’m just glad when I can help.”

“Okay?” Dean is somewhat confused. He was scared of the interview with this guy, but he hasn’t met anyone yet who was less scary than Chuck Shurley. “Please come in. Take a chair.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you. Very, very nice.”

“Umm, yeah. You’re welcome,” Dean stumbles over the words because Chuck’s reaction is a bit much for something simple like offering a chair. “So, Cas – Dr. Novak told me you wanted to talk to me,” he decides to take the bull by the horns. “To see whether you had a spot in your clinic for me. What do you need to know for that?”

“Oh, you’re very direct. That is good. I like that. What do you know about the clinic?”

“Well, I’ve read the brochures. I know that Dr. Novak’s recommended it. Oh, and Benny said not to underestimate you,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Benny?” Chuck asks and looks confused and doesn’t even smile slightly.

“Benny Lafitte. He’s been in your program before. It must be years back, though.”

“Oh, Benny Lafitte. Yes, I know him. He comes by every so often, still. Community support. That sort of thing. How do you know him?”

“Umm,” Dean tightens his hands into the blanket. They’re getting to the real stuff now. “Several reasons, actually. I don’t know which one you want to hear.”

“Well, which one is the most important?”

“Umm, to me? The fact that he agreed to be my sponsor. To you, the fact that I hit his car when I caused the accident, probably.”

Chuck doesn’t say anything to that, just fidgets in his chair some more.

Of course that makes Dean nervous again. Fidgeting is never good. “Look, just tell me what I got to do. I’ll do it.”

“No, no. That’s not the way it works. I can counsel you, maybe. But that’s it. I can’t tell you what to do.” Chuck shakes his head fervently.

“But you have some conditions for your clinic, right? So you can tell me what to do so that I have a chance to get a spot there?” Dean’s voice is getting a bit frantic, so he makes an effort to dial down the panic. After a few deep breaths, he says, “This is a big chance for me. One that I haven’t had in a long time. I don’t want to fuck it up. Okay? Please, just tell me what I need to do.”

There still isn’t any answer, Chuck is scratching his beard now. But somehow under all his nervous exterior, Dean has a feeling that Chuck’s resolve equals Benny’s.

Dean’s phone beeps. He resists the urge to check but Chuck says, “Oh no, please, don’t hold back on my account. It could be important.”

So Dean takes the phone. The new message reads:

Sammy: Jerk. :-) I’ll c u later. S.

“Something good?” Chuck asks and his leg jitters when his nervous energy finds a new outlet there.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “My brother.”

The next question comes fast and determined. “So you’ve got family to support you?”

Dean smiles because that’s a good question, one that he can nod to and say. “Yes. Yes, I have family to support me.”

“Who have you got?” Check asks and leans forward a bit. There is actual interest in Chuck’s voice as far as Dean can discern.

“Well, I’ve got my brother. He lives in California actually but he’s here now. And we’ve – we’ve been clearing some stuff up. So I think –,” Dean swallows, “I think he’ll be around. And then there’s Bobby and he’s like, you know, like a father for me and I can crash with him while I’m at the clinic. And he’s got a job at his garage lined up for me for after. And then there’s, uhh,” Dean stumbles and stops.

“Your partner?” Chuck suggests.

“Uh, yeah, that.”

“Hmm,” Chuck says noncommittally. “How long have you been together?”

About 18 hours, Dean thinks but doesn’t believe that it’s an appropriate answer. “Not long,” is what he says instead.

“Well, okay,” Chuck nods uncertainly. “I’m just asking because, you know, the partners of addicts…”

“He doesn’t. Approve of or enable the drinking,” Dean says quickly.

“Hmm,” Chuck stays noncommittal.

“Look, I’ve been in programs before. I know how it goes.”

When Chuck looks at him quizzically he notices that he maybe shouldn’t have said that. But it’s too late now, so he just shrugs.

Again, there is a sudden flash of hard as steel resolve underneath the jittery exterior. “What makes it different this time?”

Dean doesn’t have to think about this one. “I want it,” he answers.

“You didn’t before?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “Not really. I wanted to –,” to be good for my brother. To not be a disappointment. To feel like he wasn’t a failure at everything. “But I also wanted to forget. I wanted the pain to go away.”

“And now?”

Dean shrugs again. “Now I want the good stuff. If I have to deal with the pain for that, I’ll do it.”

“Ha,” Chuck says and for a moment he sits perfectly still before he starts kneading his fingers together again. “Anything else you want to tell me? You don’t have to, you know. Just, if there’s anything you want me to know, now’s as good a time as any.”

“Well, yeah, actually,” Dean starts and has to take another moment to compose himself because suddenly his nightmare is very vivid in front of his eyes again, “there’s one thing. My Dad. He was a drunk, too. Pretty violent one. And he used to…” But he can’t say it. So instead he opts for, “So I’ve got a few issues. That probably need dealing with. It’s not an excuse or anything. Just – I probably need to find a way to handle things better.”

“I see,” Chuck nods thoughtfully. “I see.”

“Umm, do you need more details than that?”

“No, not for the moment, no.” He taps his finger against his lips a few times, before suddenly smiling broadly. “Well, I’ll see you Monday morning at 9 o’clock sharp then.”

“What?” Dean says. “Just like that?”

“It’s hardly just like that,” Chuck looks puzzled again before moving on quickly. “Go to the receptionist. She’ll know what to do next.”

“But – I don’t even – and my insurance doesn’t cover this. I need to know how much it will cost. Don’t you want to make sure you get your money?”

Chuck looks even more confused. “That is not an issue that I was aware of. Actually, I thought it was already handled. Are you sure that you’re not missing information there?”

“What?” Now it’s Dean who can’t follow.

“There’s been a deal made. I thought you were aware of this.”

“A deal?” Dean still doesn’t understand.

“A pro bono deal. Between the hospital and our clinic. Your case falls under that agreement.”

And suddenly Dean has an inkling what’s happening. “Cas…”

“Is that Dr. Novak? If it is, then yes, he is the one who proposed the agreement,” Chuck jumps up suddenly, “and I promised to find him before his rounds, too. Also, I think I might be running late. Crap. Why am I always late? I try so hard, I really do!”

“I’m sure he’ll…”

But Dean doesn’t get further than this, before Chuck talks over him. “9 am sharp. If you’re not there, you’re out. Them’s the rules.” He nods and waves somewhat uncoordinatedly at them. “Gotta run. Gotta find Dr. Novak. See you then.”

And he’s out of the door.

“Wow, your boyfriend comes with perks,” Balti comments after a minute’s silence.

“He didn’t have to do this,” Dean frowns. “This is my problem. He should let me handle it.”

“You might want to try to keep these words to yourself and say thank you instead when you see him,” Balti frowns.

Well, Dean had agreed to letting Cas help. Just not like this. He sighs. “I guess,” he answers vaguely.

“Dude, you seriously got to learn how to accept it when people are nice to you,” Balti shakes his head.

“And you seriously need to learn when to keep your trap shut,” Dean shoots back.

“You mean now or the other day? Because I know that I say inopportune shit sometimes, but this is not one of these times.”

“What’s your problem, man?” Dean’s hackles are immediately raised again.

“My problem is that you have a fucking legion of people caring for you and you’re too pig-headed to see it!” Balti exclaims exasperatedly. “Count your blessings, man. Because the rest of us aren’t this fortunate. Or have you seen anyone trying to make life easier for me lately?”

“Well, Mama Tran brought you soup,” Dean answers lamely.

“Great, now all my problems are solved,” Balti turns his eyes to the ceiling and mimes shooting himself.

“Bad timing?” Pam is standing in the door with their breakfast.

“No, awesome timing actually. I need something to occupy myself with and bland food is just the thing,” Balti snorts.

“That good a morning, huh?” Pamela smiles.

“I want it to be over with,” Balti sighs. “I want all of this to be over with. I want to walk again. I want to be out of here.”

“Oh oh, cabin fever already?” Pamela says sympathetically. “That’s not good. You have a while to go.”

“I know,” Balti whines, “But can’t there be a miracle?”

“There can be a best case scenario. Then it’s only another month.”

“Another month is not my best case scenario,” and now Balti sounds like he’s going to start crying.

“And physical rehab after that. I’m very sorry. But a broken pelvis just has a long recovery time.” She pats his arm comfortingly. “Shall we get started with the morning check-up?”

“Do I have a choice?” Balti sighs.

“I can start with Dean,” Pam shrugs.

“Nah, it’s fine. Let him stew for a little bit. He’s going to be out of here in a few days and won’t look back.”

“That’s not true,” Dean disagrees.

“Isn’t it? You’ll have your almost-father and your brother and the clinic and your boyfriend, you’ll be busy around the clock. And I won’t even get to leach off of your entertainment anymore.”

“You still have Gabe. And I’ll come visit.”

Balti laughs dryly. “Yeah. Like hell you will. Come on, Pam, let’s get this over with.”

Pamela shrugs and takes his vitals, while Dean watches, no words coming to mind. He’s taken it for granted that Balti is always bright and shiny, kind of like Gabe. But there’s a hard edge to him that is only a little bit under the surface. He wonders what happened to put it there.

Chapter Text

Once Pamela is done with Balti, she comes over to him. This time, Dean manages to get up on his own. He even makes most of the trip to and from the bathroom without help. Pamela gives him enough praise for it as if he’d just won the Superbowl. He’s pretty sure he blushes but try as he might, his head is not in the right space for finding one of the easy comebacks that he’d usually have.

Sighing, he lets himself sink back into the pillows. Everything is messed up in here. He had game at some point, but now it’s gone. He didn’t have support then, though, and now he does. He’s also got friends and that is proving to be a hell of a lot more trouble than he thought. “Balti?” he asks.

“Leave me be, Dean.”

“What about your sister? Anna? Isn’t she coming?” Dean asks stubbornly.

“What business is it of yours?”

“Oh, come on, that’s my line. Just answer.”

“No, she’s not coming,” Balti says sullenly.

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t called her. Satisfied now?” Balti growls.

“You haven’t called her? Why?”

“Because she already thinks I’m stupid. And the one thing she can’t abide in this world is stupidity.”

“Oh, come on, Balti.”

“No. She’s told me that before. There’s this angel-chick, Anabiel. Anna said she should have been called that, because that’s the angel you pray to to cure stupidity. She said then she might have been able to cure me.” He sounds bitter and very unlike the other times he talked about his sister.

“You like her, though,” Dean ventures.

Balti just stares into space. “I do,” he finally replies. “But this whole thing, my movie, the roof, Gabriel. She wouldn’t have any patience for any of it. I don’t need the lecture.”

“Look, man, I thought the same thing about my brother. And that turned out okay. You should call her. Family’s important.”

“You’re one to talk,” Balti huffs.

Dean snorts. “Never said you should strive to be like me. Do better.”

And that finally makes Balti laugh at least a little bit, even though it doesn’t sound like he thinks it is actually funny.

“Want me to play something to make you feel better?” Dean asks, his last resort since talking obviously doesn’t do any good.

Balti sighs. “Knock yourself out. Play whatever you want.”

So Dean takes the guitar and thinks about it for a moment. He knows the guitar is still tuned from yesterday, but still fumbles over the strings for a while. There is only one song he plays when he’s down in the hopes that it’ll make him feel better. But chances are that it also makes him cry. Well, the risk is lower if he doesn’t sing. So he guesses just playing it would be okay.

Hesitantly, he plays the first chord of ‘Hey Jude’. The notes come out shy but then the song takes on its own life and flows. He hums the melody, even while he listens to the clear voice that only exists in his head sing the tune.

“That was beautiful.” It is Cas’ voice that startles him out of his trance at the end of the song.

“Umm, thanks,” Dean tries to wipe at his eyes surreptitiously but of course there’s already worry in Cas’ eyes. “Time for rounds already, huh?” he tries to cover.

“Yes,” Cas nods. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “played it for Balti, actually. Cause he wasn’t feeling so good. And the song,” he looks down at his hands and the guitar, “my Mom used to sing it for me when I felt bad.” He shrugs again. “It’s a long time ago and an old song.”

“It’s important to you,” Cas observes.

And that’s true but he doesn’t want to think about his Mom right now. He wanted to make Balti feel better, not make himself feel sad. So he changes the topic abruptly. “You know that you didn’t have to do this, right?”

Cas raises his eyebrows.

“The clinic thing. Whatever you did there. You didn’t have to. I’d have found the money.”

“I’m sure you would have,” Cas nods. “But I like to help when I can. Doctor and all.”

Dean shakes his head with a frown. “I’m pretty sure I ain’t the first DUI that came through here. You going through this much trouble for all of them?”

“I will from now on. The pro bono system is not a one-time deal. They help with cases I refer to them, I take on who they refer to me.” He gives Dean a hard look. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, Sir,” Dean replies automatically to the tone of Cas’ voice before he catches himself. “No,” he repeats a little softer. “Just – you didn’t have to.”

“You still think you don’t deserve it?”

It is a question, but not one that Dean really has an answer to. “I don’t know, Cas. Thank you in any case.”

“Hmm,” Cas thinks about it for a second but then seems to accept the answer. He looks at Dean’s patient file. “You had another nightmare tonight?”

Dean shrugs. “More of a memory showing its ugly ass.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His go-to-answer is NO of course, but instead he says, “With Sam, actually. Because he was there. When it happened. And he’s coming by later.”

If he expected Cas to be somewhat miffed that he doesn’t want to talk to him, he gets surprised, because Cas smiles brightly. “That’s a very good plan. I like it.”

“You’re weird, man,” Dean shakes his head and smiles, too.

“But I’ve been told that it’s a good weird,” Cas replies with a smug air and a twinkle in his eyes and it’s all Dean can do not to catch a handful of fabric of his scrubs and draw him close.

“You really want to go through with this, don’t you?” he asks instead. “With the distance?” Because Cas is literally standing at the foot-end of his bed and has not come any closer. “Don’t even trust yourself to come to the front end of the bed, huh?”

“Maybe I don’t trust you not to make a pass on me, ever thought about that?” Cas teases.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” Dean grins. “Thought about making a pass on you, too. Or what exactly that would entail…” He wiggles his eyebrows seductively.

“You’re horrible.” Cas actually sticks his tongue out at him.

“Hmm, tongue…” Dean replies and licks his lips.

“Oh stop it,” Cas smacks him lightly with the patient file.

Dean just chuckles. “So close and yet so far away…”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Cas puts the patient file back in place and steps around the bed. He leans down very quickly and gives him a peck on the mouth. “Satisfied now?”

Dean didn’t even have time to react, Cas was there and gone again so fast. “Anything but, actually. But that was nice, anyway.”

“Anything else will have to wait,” Cas says resolutely and turns around. “So, Mr. Milton, you weren’t feeling well? Was that medical or emotional?”

Balti has followed the whole exchange with a look that makes Dean think he’s mentally writing it down already. But he also has a smile on his face again and that is good to see. “Hey, you’re like my brother-in-law or something now, I think it’s okay to finally call me Balthazar.”

“I am also your Doctor.”

“But we watched Dr. Sexy together.”

“Is that some kind of initiation ritual?”

“Well, drooling over cowboy boots together is enough for first name basis usually.”

Cas sighs deeply. “Alright then, boyfriend of my brother’s, were you feeling unwell medically or emotionally? Are you in any pain?”

Balti shakes his head at Cas but answers truthfully, “Mostly, I was upset because I have to stay here for so fucking long. It’s pretty goddamn boring even with you lot. I’m not sure how I’ll survive the long stretch after Dean’s gone.”

“I’m guessing, you’ll have to do it like the rest of us, one day at a time.”

“Yeah, but you get to go home after your shift and snuggle up to Green Eyes over there. I get to be lonely and bored out of my mind here.”

“My brother will be back on day shifts soon enough. I’m sure he’ll volunteer to spend his evenings with you.”

“Yeah, I guess that’d be something…” Balti agrees reluctantly.

“So, how’s the physical pain?”

“Same as before.”

“Not getting any better?”

“Distracting myself helps.”

“That’s good,” Cas nods. “You should keep doing that. Your MRI results show normal progress in your healing. I was making sure that no splinters have been overlooked or separated from the bone later. But it seems you’re in the clear.”

Balti chuckles. “All for my best, huh? Not at all to get some alone-time with Dean?” But when Cas just looks at him sternly, he adds. “Nah, scratch that, I never said that. I’m happy for the two of you anyway. You deserve each other.”

There is a moment of silence as they are trying to figure this one out. Then Dean asks, “Was that an insult? Sometimes I can’t tell. Did he just insult us?”

Cas frowns but then he shakes his head. “I will decide to take it as a compliment. Thank you, boyfriend of my brother’s.” And with a sugary sweet smile he adds, “You deserve Gabriel, too.”

Balti breaks out laughing. “God, I still underestimate you sometimes. Alright, touché.”

Cas nods satisfied. “Very well then. You know where the call button is. Dean, I’ll come by after my shift, alright?”

“Looking forward to it,” Dean says and he means it from the bottom of his heart.

Cas vaguely waves goodbye and Dean finds it adorable. Before he starts to dwell on the cuteness of his boyfriend too much he retrieves his phone.

It rings three times before Benny picks up.

“Hey, Dean. How you doing?”

“I am okay. Just wanted to tell you about the good news.”

“I am all ear.”

“I have an appointment at the clinic on Monday, 9 am.”

“That is great news!”

“Yes, it is,” Dean says but it lacks the enthusiasm that should maybe accompany it.

Of course Benny picks up on it. “What’s up, Dean?”

“Umm.” Yeah, talking about his feelings should be becoming second nature by now, with how often he’s been asked about them lately. But it really doesn’t. Still, Benny’s been there. So he knows how it feels. “How did you manage to walk into the clinic without losing it? Because I was so nervous today when Chuck came by and I almost freaked out and I’m already freaking out about Monday...” Dean stops himself because he realizes that he is babbling. He takes a deep breath and just says: “I don't know how to do it, Benny.”

“You go in. That’s all you gotta do.”

Dean huffs because that sounds a lot easier when Benny says it than it is in his mind.

“You’ve already taken the first step, Dean. Getting into the program is huge. Now it’s just a matter of getting your ass out of bed and being there.”

“I guess…” Dean says hesitantly.

“You got someone to go there with you?”

“What, like a soccer mom dropping me off at the high school entrance?”

Benny’s laughter is a deep rumble on the other end of the line. “Well, I ain’t no soccer mom but if you want me to…”

“No,” Dean interrupts quickly. “I wouldn’t… No.”

“You got someone else? Just in case?” When Dean doesn’t answer, Benny sighs. “Look, Dean, you can do this on your own, no doubt. But if it’s 8:30 on Monday and your ass is still in bed, you need someone who knows that he has to kick it. Because you don’t want to lose this opportunity to nerves. Understood?”

Dean nods obediently before he notices that Benny can’t see this through the phone. “I’ll tell my brother. I made sure he was on time for his first day in school and in middle-school and in high school. He’ll do this for me.”

“Alright,” Benny answers and doesn’t pry. “You been in rehab before?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods.

“So you know what to expect?”

“Umm,” not a good topic.

“Dean?”

“Well, there was this one time where I, umm, showed up drunk for the first day.”

“Oh God,” Benny groans.

“Yeah, not my brightest hour,” Dean admits. “There was one program that I stuck to for a while. It was evening classes only, though.”

That had been in the first year after his Dad had died. It had been Sam of course, who’d gotten him into the program. Sam who came home for spring break and for the whole summer. Even though, and Dean realizes that only now, he’d probably much rather have spent the summer with Jessica than caring for his drunk brother.

“I went for a few months,” Dean continues before his thoughts spiral further down the drain. “Had a steady job back then, so that’s why I couldn’t go full time.”

“Sure about that?” Benny asks.

“Yeah, well,” Dean sighs.

“Or is it more that you didn’t really want to?”

“My Dad had just died…” Dean defends himself.

“Hey, I’m not judging. Just saying. Don’t lie to yourself.”

“Well, I want to get better now.”

“And that’s a good thing. So, no full-time inpatient or outpatient treatment at a clinic then?”

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head.

“Alright. Want to know what to expect?”

And yes, that would be good. “Would help.”

“Well, the first person you’re going to meet is either Amy or Lisa. They share the job of the receptionist because they’re both single moms.”

Dean chuckles. “And how do you know that? Did you try to make a pass at them?”

“Who says it was just a try?” Benny deadpans. But then he laughs. “No, I actually talked to them. That’s how I know. You should try it out sometime, just talking to a woman. It works well.”

“Hey, I have a boyfriend now, so anything but talking is off limits anyway.”

“Is that so,” Benny remarks thoughtfully and Dean immediately cringes.

“You got a problem with that?” It comes out more timid than challenging, though.

“Just wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

The reaction is neutral but it’s enough to make Dean breathe a silent sigh of relief. At least there is no yelling and he didn’t hang up. He has to remember that, that Benny has the same commanding air sometimes, but still isn’t his Dad. “Well, I guess I am the type,” he says and his voice sounds steadier than before.

“Good for you. That you have someone,” Benny answers.

“You don’t?”

“I got Lizzie.”

“Who’s that?” Dean asks though he isn’t sure he should pry.

“Elizabeth. My grand-daughter.”

“What? You have a granddaughter already? You’re not that old!”

“Thanks,” Benny snorts. “But yeah, I have a granddaughter. I started early, my daughter started early. None of us took it well, though.”

“What’s that mean?”

“That’s a long story. Let’s keep that for another day. I wanted to tell you about the clinic.”

“Right,” Dean says because he had actually almost forgotten that.

“It’s not all that exciting actually. Whoever mans the reception will give you an unholy amount of official forms to fill out. All of your medical info. All of your past. All of your drinking habits. Try and tell the truth, okay? They’ll find out anyway. But it’ll make everything easier if you don’t lie to them. Or to yourself.”

“Yeah,” Dean swallows hard.

“Got a tendency to downplay your problems?”

“Got a tendency not to mention them at all,” Dean mutters. “I don’t like talking about myself.”

“I get it. Believe me I get it. But you better prepare yourself for the fact that talking about yourself is all you’re going to be doing for the next few months. Emotionally stunted is no diagnosis they’ll accept.”

Dean huffs a little laugh. “Was kind of prepared for that.”

“Good,” Benny sounds satisfied. “After you scaled the unholy paper mountain, they’ll give you a tour of the place so that you have no excuse when you’re late to your appointments. Then there’s a physical check-up with the resident doctor.”

“Physical check-up?” That surprises Dean.

“They want to make sure you didn’t kill your liver completely.”

“Oh.”

“And then there’s the blood and urine samples.”

“What?”

“The nurses handle that. Three times a week in the beginning. Later it’s down to once a week. Surprise samples in case of suspicion.”

“Oh God,” Dean cringes in embarrassment already.

“They gotta make sure.”

“The other program never did that,” he complains.

“Yeah, and you didn’t make it there. You’re going to make it at Chuck’s place.”

Okay, there’s no arguing that. “Okay, so after that?”

“After that you get your first appointment with your counselor. You get assigned to a group. Every group has addicts in different stages of recovery. So you’ll be the newb in the group. But not for very long.”

“A group,” Dean repeats doubtfully.

“To foster sharing and mutual support and all that happy shit. You’ll have a lot of sessions together. But you’ll also have a lot of individual counselling. So there’s that.”

“What about you? Where do you come in?”

“There’s open meetings at night. I’d propose we find a night that’s good for us, go grab a burger somewhere and then go to the meeting together. Once a week regularly, and then we’ll see whether we want to meet up more often. Could be you find out that Sunday nights are the worst and when you’re alone you’re on the verge of having a deep conversation with Jackie Daniels. Then we’ll meet up on Sundays to make sure you get over that. Makes sense?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Makes sense.”

“Well, you’ll get a schedule on Monday. Then you’ll know what works best for you. Call me, tell me what works for you and we’ll figure out how to work that into my week. Alright?”

“Alright,” Dean nods.

“You’ve gotten awfully quiet. Too much info?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just – a lot.”

“You want me to pick you up on Monday morning? Cause I can.”

And there’s another problem that Dean didn’t even think about isn’t there? “I don’t have a license anymore.”

“Yeah, thought so,” Benny said. “Look, call me if you need me on Monday morning. I’ll make it work. But I gotta run now. You good?”

“Yeah. Thanks Benny. I’ll talk to you soon.”

But Dean’s thoughts are one hundred percent focused on this new problem. Driver’s license. Fuck’s sake. He needs to get to that clinic every single day. And back at night. He grabs the notebook and opens Google Maps and routes the fastest way from Bobby’s to the clinic. About 10 miles. He routes it again using dirt roads and cross-country lanes. 8 miles. Doable with a bike. If your spleen isn’t held together by glue. Fuck. He’ll need help. Someone to fucking drive him every fucking day. Frustrated, he closes the notebook and shoves it to the foot-end of the bed.

He can feel Balti’s gaze on him. “Just call your sister, man.” Huffing at him is easier than having to come up with a solution to his problem.

“I wish I could set Gabriel on you. But he’s not even here,” Balti sighs.

“Yeah, tough shit,” Dean smirks. “Does he know that you haven’t called Anna?”

The answering silence is all Dean needs.

“Yeah, you might not want to threaten me with your boyfriend.”

“Hmpf,” Balthazar grumbles. But then he sighs and gives in. “Could I have your notebook for a bit? Don’t even know whether I’ve got an up-to-date number. It’s been a while.”

“Dude, you told me you were close.”

“We were. As teenagers.”

“Oh boy.” Dean calculates the distance to Balti’s bed in his head. Three steps maximum. The bathroom door is eleven. Or thirteen if he can’t get the first few steps right. “How are you going to find her online?”

“She is an executive officer at a big publishing house. Believe me, I’ll find her. Or her secretary.”

“Okay then.” Dean gets the bed into the most upright position and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Well, drop is more accurate, but swing sounds more active. “Note that I haven’t actually tried to walk while holding something and not using my hands for balance.”

“Umm, don’t you want to call Pam for this?”

“Stairs to my bedroom,” is all Dean answers to that and it shuts Balti up. Also, Cas told him to try this several times a day. So here it goes.

He positions the notebook next to him and uses his arms to provide enough leverage to push off the bed. Surprisingly, it works. He finds his balance, one hand still holding on to the bed, then grabs the notebook. After that comes the moment of truth. He grits his teeth and lets go.

One, two, three. He feels like zombie-walking, his feet are shuffling so badly, but he arrives at Balthazar’s bed without dropping the notebook. He drops it into Balti’s lap and then promptly decides to sit down on the edge of the bed. Because jeez, his legs are wobbly.

“Oh hey there! Nice of you to visit me!” Balthazar quips.

“Well, it’s good to finally see how you look like,” Dean retorts.

“You couldn’t see me from over there? You sure the accident wasn’t because you need glasses?”

“Low blow, man, low blow,” but the fact that he made it to the other side of the room without any help at all makes him feel too good to be upset with Balthazar. “Mind if I rest here for a few minutes?”

“Not at all. Show me how to work this thing?”

“No prob. There’s no password set.”

Chapter Text

They are still bent over the notebook together when Pamela comes with their lunch. Looking for Anna’s phone number has degraded into looking for pictures of Anna, then checking out Balti’s Facebook page, then checking out Anna’s and Kevin’s Facebook pages and after that they somehow got tangled up in Dr. Sexy fan-videos.

“Slumber party?” Pamela asks with raised eyebrows.

“Just a short break before attempting to walk back,” Dean replies hastily.

“Aha. Need any help?”

“Nope, I can do it.” But of course sitting crammed into a corner of the bed because Balti can’t really move meant that Dean’s non-cooperative muscles are now also stiff. So in the end, when Pamela holds out a hand to help him up, he grudgingly accepts the offer.

“Don’t worry, it’ll get better soon,” Pam placates.

“Not soon enough,” Dean predicts darkly.

“It’s just a matter of practice. And enough rest in between.”

“The last time I had to practice walking, I was about that high,” Dean holds his hand out to show the height.

“And I’m sure you were an adorable toddler. Though I’m also sure your Mom is glad that there’s no diapers this time around.” When Dean doesn’t answer, she catches herself quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry. You lost her, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers and suddenly his throat is scratchy.

“Well, then that was very insensitive of me. I apologize.”

“Wow,” Balti marvels. “Words that would never leave Gabe’s lips.”

Pamela laughs at that. “Well, Meg makes him apologize every so often. He looks like he’s biting into a lemon when he does.”

“He’s not making lemonade?” Dean asks sarcastically.

“Not where Meg can see,” grins Pamela. “Now, gentlemen, eat and be merry. I will be back later.”

And indeed she is back exactly half an hour later and she has a Moose in tow.

“I bring a visitor!” she exclaims brightly.

Balti perks up before he sees that it is Sam. “Oh, it’s the Sasquatch. Not that I’m complaining but I was hoping for Kev.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Sam says with a shrug.

“Hey, you’re not disappointing me,” Dean is quick to interrupt.

“Glad to hear it,” Sam replies dryly.

“Though I already miss the woman by your side,” Dean grins because he knows it will make his brother happy that Dean and his fiancée are getting along. As an added perk, it is also true.

The dreamy smile is instant on Sam’s face and Dean still doesn’t know whether it makes him want to puke or not, how stupidly happy and in love his brother is.

“I miss her, too,” Sam confesses, “but we were on Facetime during her lunch break, so I’ve actually seen her like an hour ago or so.”

“Dude…” Dean shakes his head.

“What?” Sam defends. “You’re gushing over your doctor at every available opportunity.”

That’s most likely true, so he doesn’t bother arguing it. “But you have been together with your girl for years. Without telling me, I might add.”

“Dean…” Sam looks immediately crestfallen.

“God, don’t make me feel like I’ve just kicked a puppy! I’m just stating a fact.”

“I had reasons,” Sam states morosely.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Those reasons being?”

But Sam just sits down heavily in the chair.

“Come on,” Dean encourages him, “better get it out now.” He doesn’t add ‘while I’m still in the hospital bed and can’t run to the next bar’ but it is implied.

“I thought you’d react badly.”

“To her? Dude, she’s awesome.”

“No,” Sam shakes his head. “Not to her. To me having someone.”

“Oh.” That kills any argument he might have had.

“Look, Dean, I’m grateful for everything you did for me… The way you raised me… You were – everything for me. You kept me safe at school. You made me dinner. You taught me how to ride a bike. I didn’t even know it back then that that is usually something that your Dad does, not your brother. And when I twisted my ankle when I fell off the bike, you made me hot chocolate and hugged me like…”

“… like Mom did for me,” Dean finishes his sentence.

Sam nods. “You were never just my brother, Dean. You were my whole family.” His smile is shaky when he adds. “And I was yours. And raising me and keeping me safe… For a while there it seemed like it was your whole purpose in life. I –“

“You didn’t want to fuck me up,” Dean says with sudden clarity. “You didn’t want to take that away.” And he feels his face burning, because that was exactly the reaction that he’d had when Sam told him about Jess – that someone was taking away his lifelong purpose. “I appreciate the thought, man, but I can take it. And honesty goes both ways, you know?”

“Does that mean I should apologize for plotting with Cas to get you your guitar?”

It’s a less than subtle way to change the topic, but Dean is not unhappy about not being grilled on the subject of his jealousy of his brother’s girlfriend, so he rolls with it. “How’d you even find it?”

Sam snorts, “The place is a shithole but it isn’t big. And you’re not even half the slob I expected you to be.”

“Motel rooms,” is Dean’s only explanation for that. He’s still living as if he might need to pack up his belongings within the next 30 minutes. And hell, he might have to pack up his belongings again. “Guess there’s not much sense in keeping the place when I’m moving to Bobby’s for the time being,” he muses.

“How long’s the rent paid for?”

“Through the end of the year.”

“Well, then you have a few weeks to decide.”

Dean nods. “Did you go through everything yet?”

Sam has the decency to look slightly ashamed but he nods. “Bobby told me I should.”

“Yeah. He did right. Did you find anything?”

Sam shakes his head. “Not even beer. Fridge was empty and not even on.” He clearly disapproves of that fact.

Dean just shrugs. “You know how it goes…”

“No, Dean, I actually don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me.”

He tests the sentence for all the possibilities of hidden meanings, but beyond a certain exasperation, all he can take away from it is that most likely Sam actually doesn’t know. “I don’t have a job, Sam. How do you think I get my money?”

There is twinge to Sam’s facial muscles then that Dean rather wouldn’t find out the reason for right now. He’s had his share of unsavory jobs over the years that he hopes Sam never found out about.

“I hustle pool. At the bar. That’s where I eat. That’s where I drink. That’s basically where I live.”

Maybe he imagines it but there seems to be a small sigh of relief from Sam. “Hustling pool is all?”

Dean raises his eyebrows but he doesn’t ask. “Yes. Nothing else.”

“Okay.”

This time the relief is palpable. Dean shifts uncomfortably. Whatever it was his brother was thinking, it wasn’t good. “So yeah, when I told Bobby I had no booze at home, I was reasonably sure that that was the truth. He did right not to believe me, though. My best 'sure' is only 85% these days.”

He hopes that it is enough to change the topic, and in a way it is.

“Yeah, speaking of Bobby. There was something else,” Sam fidgets, “he said something about panic attacks?”

And now Dean isn’t sure whether he doesn’t want the other topic back after all. “Uhh, he did, huh?” He should really get that nervous gesture of scratching the back of his neck under control, it’s a dead give-away.

Sam levels him with a look. It’s not even the puppy eyes, just his ‘why do I not know about this?’ but it works anyway because Dean’s mouth starts explaining without his conscious decision to do so.

“Started after the surgery. Or, I dunno. The attacks might have been there before the drinking got so heavy.” They might have been there while he was drinking, too, he just doubts he’d remember them. “They’re – something to do with Dad, usually,” he admits with a sigh and looks at his hands instead of at his brother. Sam always told him that Dad was no good. It was Dean who was too blind to see it. He doesn’t need the ‘I told you so’.

“If I say that that doesn’t come as a big surprise – will that upset you?”

“No, it won’t,” Dean shrugs. The topic makes him itchy but not as much as it would have a week ago. Also, he’s kind of promised Cas to talk about this, so, “I had a nightmare about it tonight.”

“It?”

“Him. Or,” Dean tries to find the right words, “us. When we were kids. It was more of a memory than a dream.” He sighs, “I dunno, man, I’m not used to talking about this.”

“Try,” Sam says and nods encouragingly. Sometimes he’s such a well-adjusted human being, Dean would like to punch him for it. Or be him. Either or.

Instead he goes on, “Can’t say when it was specifically. I might have been 10 or 12 or whatever. Dad had just come back after a week of hunting, and he was drunk and – unhappy about the state of things.”

By the way Sam’s face tightens, he knows that Sam gets the gist and he doesn’t need to go into more detail.

“But then, he kind of broke down. Apologized a lot. He woke you up.” Dean frowns at that part. He still doesn’t like it. “That wasn’t cool.”

“That’s the part you’re angry at him for?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Damn right it is,” Dean glares at Sam. “Took a lot of work, you know. Trying to make sure you wouldn’t wake up.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Sam finally looks down first. “Is that why you never cry?” he asks quietly.

Dean clears his throat because it isn’t true anymore but he still isn’t comfortable with that fact. “Yeah, apparently my face leaks more than it used to these days. Side-effect of the panic attacks.”

Sam doesn’t answer anything to that for a long time. Finally, he says. “I tried to help. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean nods. “But truth to be told, it scared the hell out of me. When you were all agreeable and helpful and not bitching. Our life sucked, I know it. The fact you were still bitching about it, meant he hadn’t managed to fuck you up completely. One soldier in the family is enough.”

There is another pause after that. It’s weird how all of these things have always been there but they’ve never said them out loud.

“Why did you never join? The actual army, I mean. You could have been out at 18.”

“And leave you behind? No, never.”

“Dean, you’re so…”

“If you say stupid, I swear to God, Sammy…”

“Stubborn. I was going to say stubborn.”

“Hmpf, alright then,” Dean replies because he is stubborn.

Sam knows it, too, because he resorts to pleading. “Come on, Dean. I can help. Let me help. At least now.”

“Yeah, you can help,” Dean nods.

That trips Sam up. “Say that again.”

“You can help,” he repeats.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Drive me to the clinic on Monday morning. If you’re still here.” Dean shrugs. “I got no license.”

“Drive you…? I mean, yeah, sure. But – you know that I meant more than that, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods because he knows. But this is something practical. Asking for something practical is easier than the rest of it.

There is a long pause then, the only noise in the room being Balti playing some game on his cell phone, for once content not to give a running commentary.

“What do you remember?” Dean finally asks, even though it makes his stomach turn. ‘Keep Sammy safe’ is the first order he’s ever received and he’s tried to follow it against all odds and even when the ones Sam needed to be kept safe from, were him and his Dad. The question runs counter to all that. And whatever Sam says, it’ll be another notch on the list of Dean’s failures.

“Of those nights?” Sam asks and Dean nods. “That you didn’t want me to comfort you. Even though you were hurting. Because he was beating on you.”

“Did he ever…?” Dean asks and doesn’t even manage to finish the question.

“Did he hit me? Yeah. A few times. Mostly when you were gone. Back when - you must have been what – 16?”

“Sonny’s.” Dean says quick as a shot.

“What?”

“I was at Sonny’s. Some supermarket dude caught me stealing and called the cops on me. I got sent to a delinquent boy’s home.”

“Oh God, Dean, that’s horrible! I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dean shakes his head. The place had been more of a ranch than the prison Sam was likely imagining. Warm clothes, enough food, and Sonny himself, whose orders had always been strict but who had encouraged him to make something out of himself. Something other than a petty thief. It hadn’t been horrible. Not at all. He nods to himself. “Good times. Sonny’s a good guy. Sorry it got you messed up, though. But I kind of figured. Same thing as with the army.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks confused.

Dean emerges from his memories, warm feeling of having an adult actually care about him still in his guts. “Would have stayed, I guess. If I hadn’t known he was taking it out on you without me being there. So I went back when he came to get me.” He huffs a little laugh. “Also, you were always hungry and you were never that good with the five-finger-discount. Not that you were supposed to try it in the first place. Strictly my job.”

He smiles but Sam doesn’t even pretend to smile back.

So he gives up on the niceties and just asks him, “He didn’t touch you after, did he?”

Sam shakes his head and at least that’s something. Not enough, never enough, but something.

“You really would have stayed there?” Sam sounds like his whole world view is crumbling.

“It was just two months, Sam. It wasn’t even important enough to tell you about it.” Though that is most likely a lie. His Dad pretended that the two months had never happened and Dean just fell in line. Was kind of glad about it, in a way. It hurt an awful lot, thinking about that school dance he never got to go to.

“But you were happy there?” His brother is nothing if not persistent.

And what’s Dean supposed to even say to that? ‘Best time of my childhood?’ ‘Got to play at being a kid for a bit, was fun?’ ‘Didn’t even have to do weird shit in the middle of the night to get food?’ Yeah, none of these are going to help even a tiny little bit.

“Got my guitar there, so that was good. And Dad even let me keep it.” Dean settles on something reasonably safe to say and pats the guitar that sits safely tugged next to his bed.

“It’s still the same one?” Sam asks surprised.

“You didn’t recognize it? Didn’t think there was another guitar that was quite as banged up.”

“Hey, you never let me near it. How am I supposed to know how it looks like?” Sam defends himself.

“Well, didn’t want a clumsy middle-schooler breaking it,” Dean teases. Though the truth is more something like the guitar was the only thing he’d had to himself. The only thing that was his. That he didn’t have to share. So he fought to keep it that way.

“I was not clumsy!” Sam huffs.

“Theater-nerd,” Dean shoots back.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They smile at each other and fall silent.

“I owe you,” Sam states quietly after a while.

“No, man,” Dean shakes his head. “I fucked up plenty. You owe me nothing.”

The disagreement is clear on Sam’s face even if he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead he clears his throat and says, “I got a free night tonight.”

Dean raises his eyebrows because of the weird change of topic.

“Yeah, I, uhh, I took Bobby over to the police station the other day. Because of the files. Turns out the police woman is his neighbor. Well, a mile down the road, but you know how it is.”

“And?” Dean asks because whether or not he knows how it is, he doesn’t know what that’s got to do with anything.

“She’s invited him over for her famous casserole.”

“Bobby’s got a date?” Dean asks incredulously.

“With Jody Mills, the police woman, yes.”

“Wow,” Dean isn’t sure what to say.

“Yeah, right? But, I dunno, she was nice. And Bobby’s been alone for a long time.”

Dean shakes his head, “Man, be glad that you already have a fiancée. This room is catching even when you’re just a visitor. But with Supergirl by your side you should be safe.”

He hears the snigger from the other bed but when he turns his head Balthazar is still pretending to play a game on his phone.

Sam is looking at him strangely so Dean asks him, “What?”

He expects to get teased about Dr. Sexy but instead Sam says, “I was wondering whether I should use the night to, you know, drive over to Lawrence. Unless you wanted to come with me next week.”

Drive over to Lawrence. That can pretty much only mean one thing. “Oh man, Sammy. I don’t know,” he shakes his head.

“When have you last been?”

And maybe Sam doesn’t want it to sound accusing but in Dean’s ears it does. “I – It’s been a while.”

“Then come with me.”

“I – I don’t think… I dunno. If you want to go, better go tonight.”

“Dean…”

“Sammy, please, not yet,” Dean begs. “It’s too soon.”

“She’s been dead for 20 years, Dean.”

But that’s not what he meant. What he means that if he stands in front of his mother’s grave, he’ll start thinking. About the life he could have had. About how different things could have been. And it’s too much. He can’t deal. Not right now. He’ll want whiskey in no time. “I’ll think about it, okay?” is all he says out loud, though.

“Alright,” Sam replies, though he’d obviously hoped for a different answer, “thank you for thinking about it at least.”

“You should still go today. Can’t hurt. Not sure my schedule will allow for road trips, anyway. So safer to go now. But you’d have to get going. It’s a few hours drive.”

Sam shakes his head. “I can stay a little longer.”

“Nah, you go. I’m good. Tired, actually. Nightmare and all. I’ll get some rest, you say Hi from me, okay?”

Sam looks at him suspiciously, but finally he nods. “Alright then. Deal.”

Chapter Text

Sam’s been gone for half an hour when Balti asks, “Want to give me emotional support?”

Dean’s just been staring blankly at the window, images of his mom and his little brother when he was actually smaller than him closer than the reality of the hospital room. But now he jerks back to the present. “What do you need support for?”

“Got my sister’s secretary’s number. I thought I’d try to call.”

“Cause I told you so?” Dean asks.

Balthazar grumbles at him and answers, “No, because I want to. Only, I also don’t really want to. So, emotional support?”

“You could wait for your boyfriend.”

“Right. Cause he’s a shining example of sibling relationships.”

“Hey, Cas respects Gabe. Mostly.”

Balti chuckles. “Yeah, don’t we all?” Then he punches numbers into his phone. “Alright, here we go.”

They wait in silence, while the phone rings. Finally, there is an answer.

“Yeah, hi. You don’t know me, but I’m Balthazar Milton. I’d really like to talk to my sister if she’s in her office. … No, this is not a prank call. Just ask her, she does have a brother named Balthazar.” There is a moment of pause, then Balthazar nods. He turns to Dean, “She’s decided it’s worth to risk her boss’ wrath. She’s asking her.”

Dean nods. “Best of luck then.”

It is another moment before something happens. Then there is a high female voice loud enough on the other end that Dean can actually hear her, if not understand the words. Balthazar scrunches up his face at the onslaught. A minute later, he finally gets a word in edgewise.

“It’s not a joke, Anna, it’s really me. And before you ask, no, I don’t need money. But I could use your emotional support. … Yeah I know. But I’m in the hospital and… I fell off a roof, broke my pelvis. … Why are you laughing?... No, this is not funny.... Would you stop laughing now? ... What? …. Well, it happened the other week. … Anna… listen to me... Anna…” Balthazar seems to be getting somewhat frustrated at whatever his sister is saying. “I didn’t want to worry you, that’s why I didn’t call! …. Yes, I could have called earlier..... Why are you so upset?.... No, I didn't do it on purpose! That would be stupid..... Anna... please.... I don't want to fight....”

There seems to be a notable calming down on the other side after that or at least Dean doesn’t hear the other voice anymore.

“Still in Kansas. … Yes, I gave you the address. But I can text it to you again. If you give me your current cell phone number that is. … Look, you don’t have to come. I’m doing quite well. But I’d appreciate, you know,” he looks helplessly at Dean who urges him on silently, “talking to you every so often. Like we did when we were younger?”

Dean gives him a thumbs up.

There is a longer bit of silence then, but Balti has started grinning. “Remember that one time, when we snuck out in the middle of the night and just got us a huge box of ice cream and ate it while sitting in the fountain in the park? Who were you crying over at the time? … Yeah, you’re right. He wasn’t important. We were.”

Dean starts smiling then and stops listening in, because he knows that the battle is won and he won’t have to comfort Balti later.

And indeed, when he hangs up, Balti is beaming. “Did I mention that I love my sister?”

Dean nods, “Yep, you did.”

“I don’t even remember why I didn’t want to call her. She’s pretty cool you know?”

There is no answer expected so Dean doesn’t answer.

“If she actually comes here, though, oh God, she’s going to team up with Mama Tran!”

“Maybe she’s going to team up with Kevin,” Dean suggests.

“They are both snotty little brats sometimes,” Balti giggles, “so it could happen. But no, I think Anna is too serious these days. She’ll go with the improvements instead. Ah well, as long as she comes here.”

“As long as who comes here?” Gabriel storms through the door.

“My, you’re early. Your shift doesn’t start for another hour!”

“Who comes here?” Gabe insists and plonks himself down next to Balti. “You’re not getting your hello kiss until you’ve told me.”

“My sister, you blockhead,” Balti smiles and Gabe promptly leans in for the promised kiss.

“Don’t tell me I have to listen to you two sucking face for the next hour. Cause you know, I can close my eyes, but I can’t block out the sounds.”

Gabriel chuckles and lets go of Balti for a bit. “Told you, just watch Casa Erotica on mute. We’ll provide the sound track.”

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, please don’t,” Dean groans.

“Trust me, Jesus has nothing to do with it,” Gabe replies with a smirk.

“You didn't,” Dean says disbelievingly.

Gabe's grin just gets wider. “Poor Dean-o, can't keep up with our love.” He turns to Balti adding, “Do you think he needs a lollipop to get over it?”

Balthazar laughs and Dean shakes his head. “Please, just don't do anything that I’ll never get out of my head again, okay? I have enough bad images in there.”

“I can't promise anything,” Gabriel replies and kisses Balti again.

“I’ll tell Cas, I swear,” Dean threatens half-seriously.

Gabe is undisturbed. “And Balti will tell me everything that happens between you lovebirds, too. Who do you think is going to feel more threatened, me or my brother?”

“That's enough, Gabe,” Balti puts his hand over Gabe’s mouth to stop him, even though he is still giggling, “You don't have to fear us, Dean-o. But you might want to play your guitar or do some research or pretend that we do not exist. Whichever works best for you. I personally always pretend I’m sitting on a rainbow cloud as a benevolent God. Well, sometimes I sink the Titanic.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Dean answers but by now Gabe has another plan of course.

“Oh, oooooooooooh... Dean-o, you have to play a song for me,” he begs and Dean raises his eyebrows.

“First you threaten me with things I'd need mind-bleach for, and now you want me to play a song for you?”

“Oh, this is still totally on topic! You need to play the Casa Erotica theme for me!” Gabe looks all excited and he might actually be bouncing on the bed.

But, “No way. I will not play for you. And certainly not this song!”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Gabriel pleads.

“No,” Dean repeats adamantly.

“Then I shall sing it!” Gabe exclaims.

“It has no words how can you sing it?” Dean asks.

“Ha! So you do know it!” Gabe points a finger at him accusingly.

Dean sighs. “Who doesn’t?”

“Cassie,” Gabe replies immediately. “Doubt he has watched a single adult movie in his life.”

“Yeah, but he also didn’t know Dr. Sexy,” Balti pats Gabe’s knee, “I think your brother is just not into movies quite as much as you are.”

“How can anyone not be into movies?” Gabe looks baffled. “I mean, what better thing is there in life?”

“I dunno, saving people?” Dean answers.

“But that’s work!” complains Gabe.

“Not for me it isn’t,” Dean shrugs. Then he nods towards Balti, “Or for him. He just traumatizes people with his movies.”

“Ha ha. Not funny.”

“No, it really isn’t. People go broke paying their shrink’s bills.” But Dean can’t keep the corners of his mouth from curling into a grin.

“Can we stop all this talking and keep kissing?” Balti asks and Gabe happily obliges.

Dean sighs, retrieves the laptop and opens the browser while he tries to block out the kissing sounds.

Maybe it's a good idea to look further into the clinic or into support groups in the area. Certainly it's better than listening to the two idjits next to him. He tries very hard to ignore everything but the computer screen, but of course he doesn't manage.

“I can’t wait until you're finally out of here. I will show you my absolutely favorite place in the world. It's the perfect spot to make out,” Gabe says.

“Tried it out often have you?” Balti asks but Gabe isn’t falling for the trap.

“I plan to try it out very often with you.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes, yes, indeed.”

By the sound of it, the kisses are getting deeper.

Dean sighs heavily. “I will go to the bathroom, guys. I will, umm, stay in there for a while and - brush my teeth or something. So if you want to do… things … do them while I’m away,” he announces, while he puts the notebook to the side.

“Noted!” Gabe states with a big grin.

Dean gets up slowly. He doesn't actually need to go to the bathroom, but he also can't ignore what is happening right next to him. Maybe Balti’s benevolent God thing is working for him, but it sure as hell doesn’t work for Dean.

He takes his time walking to the bathroom. Once inside, he doesn’t really know what to do. His teeth don’t really need brushing. So he just leans heavily on the sink. He catches his reflection in the mirror and something about it draws him in. For the first time in a long time he looks at himself. Looks closely and doesn’t flinch away. He is surprised at how well he looks. A little pale, yes, but the dark circles under his eyes have faded. His chin is stubbly, but his eyes are brighter than he remembers. Fanfiction green, wasn't that what Gabe said? Dean huffs. He likes the blue of Cas’ eyes better than his own green. Who wants moss when they can have the ocean or the sky?

He shakes his head because it’s not like him to wax poetic like this. Only, Cas seems to bring this side out in him. Yet another side of him that he had forgotten even existed. He sighs.

For lack of anything better to do, he washes his face and lets the water trickle over his hair, too. He keeps the tap on cool and feels the goosebumps on his skull.

There’s a melancholy rising in him that is at odds with the elation he’s still feeling over the fact that Cas wants to be with him. It’s like any time Cas isn’t in the room with him, isn’t there to touch and to make sure that he actually exists, his brain can’t believe that all of this is real. Or if it is real, that it has a chance at lasting. There’s so much good that Cas has already done for Dean in the short time they’ve known each other, a whole life-time won’t be enough to pay it back.

And of course that’s what Dean wants. A whole life-time. No fucking way he’s going to tell that to Cas, though. Not yet, anyway. There are too many ways in which he can scare him off already, no need to add to it.

He rubs his hair dry with a towel, the exertion already straining. This is about what time he can give the two lovebirds. Stay much longer and Gabe will have to rescue him from the bathroom floor.

With an apologetic smile on his lips, Dean makes his way back to his bed. It’s not really necessary, though. Both Gabriel and Balti still have all of their clothes on, although that doesn't mean a lot on Balthazar's side. Hospital gown and all. They also seem to be engrossed in their conversation and don't even bother to look up when he gets back.

Dean's gaze falls on the guitar and he smiles. He could play the Casa Erotica theme – or a variation of it. It’s been a while since he’s had fun with a tune, added his own note and flavor to it. So he grabs the guitar and starts out slow, testing his own grasp of the song and how to interpret it.

Gabe perks up when he recognizes what Dean is playing and when Dean looks up, there is a wide smile of joy on Gabe’s face that seems genuine and less Duracell-bunny-energetic than usual. So
Dean smiles back before giving himself over to the art of free interpretation and forgets that he has an audience.

When he finally lets the theme peter out, someone is clearing their throat. “That was beautiful. Though I don’t know the song. I mean, I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before but I don’t remember where.”

A flood of bright laughter answers the statement before Dean even has time to adjust to the new situation. He’s been too far in his own world to notice Cas coming in.

“Cassie, have you been listening at my room door? That’s pretty much the only way I can imagine how you’d know the Casa Erotica theme.”

Cas tilts his head, either in confusion or trying to remember while repeating, “Casa what?” Then he catches himself, “Wait, no, don't tell me, I don’t want to know and you don’t have time to tell me. Because your shift started about five minutes ago.”

It’s only now that Dean notices that Cas is not wearing scrubs. And how the hell did he miss that fact? He lets his eyes roam up and down Cas’ body once, less because of how much of it he actually sees, Cas is decently dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, and more because his mind immediately goes to the possibilities that have opened up the second that Cas clocked out and became a private citizen instead of his doctor.

“Oh, there was that,” Gabe sighs disappointedly, “Thanks Cassie. I’ll say my goodbyes.”

Cas shrugs when Gabriel leans in to kiss Balthazar, and makes his way over to Dean who pats the space next to him on the bed in invitation. Cas slides down without hesitation.

“So, how was your day?” Dean asks.

“Busy. Some things might have taken a little longer than usually, too. I have been – somewhat distracted.”

“Distracted, huh?” Dean grins.

“Yeah. You know, there’s this one patient, who’s been on my mind.”

“Hard case, huh?”

Cas weighs his head from side to side. “Medically? No, that’s not the right word for that particular case.”

“If you’re going to say he’s ‘easy’, I’m going to take affront,” Dean chuckles.

“No, I wasn’t going to say easy. Though I do believe I’ve figured him out.”

“Do you now?” Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Cas confirms. “At least as much as he’s figured me out.”

That warms something inside Dean’s chest and he slides his hand into Cas’. “You know what? I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” Cas’ eyebrows immediately draw together in worry.

“Oh, stop that. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Dean squeezes his hand tight for emphasis. “But, I know you have to keep your distance during your shift and stuff, but if…” Somehow it’s hard to ask even though he’s reasonably sure that Cas has no motive to decline this wish. But still. It’s hard to shake off his insecurity.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas asks, worry still prominent on his features.

“If I had your cell phone number,” Dean shrugs and tries to make it sound more nonchalant than he feels, “I could text you every so often. And you could text me back when you have a quiet moment. If you wanted to, that is.” He trails off.

Cas thinks about it for a moment before he starts smiling. “I think I’d quite enjoy that. I usually don’t carry my cell with me during the day, on account of it being mostly swamped by my brother texting me inappropriate stuff, or ads for candy, but yes, I think I’d like that.”

Cas looks up at the mention of his brother but Gabe has made his exit already. Dean remembers vaguely that the door opened and closed at some point.

“So you don’t even have your phone on you, huh?” Dean asks.

Cas blushes slightly and very endearingly. “Nor do I remember my number, actually.”

“Alright,” Dean nods. “We’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way then.”

Cas looks at him puzzled while Dean fishes a pen out of his nightstand.

“Hand,” he commands.

When Cas holds out his hand, he turns it palm up and scribbles his number on Cas’ skin.

“Do I need to add my name or will you remember whose number it is?” he jokes lightly.

But when he looks up, Cas’ eyes have darkened and he is watching him. Experimentally, Dean brushes his thumb over the same place he scribbled the number on. Cas’ breath hitches a tiny bit.

“You like that,” Dean observes but doesn’t wait for an answer. He has only a small stretch of skin from the fingers to where the shirt starts. So he slowly and purposefully caresses it. He notes how goosebumps appear when he touches lightly and rubs over the goosebumps with a little more pressure until the skin is even and smooth again. He also notes the way Cas leans forward and into his touch, so he extends the radius of his motion and moves up and along Cas’ arms, following the seams of the shirt with his fingers.

It is slower than what they did the other day, but it goes much deeper. Where they were skimming and skipping on the surface, this is an exploration that is thorough. Still, Dean’s eyes never leave Cas’, the effect of what he’s doing found in the widening of pupils and the occasional shiver that washes over Cas.

When he’s finally reached Cas’ chest, the hunger in him has built enough that he lets his hands glide down and grip the fabric to pull him in.

There is no resistance, quite the opposite in fact.

It is still new, the way their lips meet, the way their bodies slide close together. But it is more familiar than it was, and with that slight familiarity comes the freedom to explore deeper here, too. To figure out that teasing nibbles elicit a series of small whimpers from Cas, while delving into his mouth brings a low guttural growl. Dean thinks it could become a favorite pastime of his, finding out every noise Cas can make.

But as if he had heard his thoughts, Cas breaks the kiss. He leans close to Dean’s ear and whispers, “My turn.”

His voice alone is enough to make Dean shudder and he nods, tilting his head to allow Cas access to his neck, because Cas is already dipping down towards his collarbone, so that’s clearly his current priority.

It’s harder for Dean, much harder, to relax into someone else’s lead and just feel instead of being in charge himself. Trust doesn’t come easily and his body remembers too much weird shit. So he can’t help from flinching away when Cas sucks a hickey into the side of his neck.

Immediately, Cas stops and looks at him.

‘It’s fine,’ Dean wants to say but finds that his heart is beating too hard and words have deserted him for now.

“Dean?” Cas’ hand comes up to cup Dean’s face, softly stroking the skin over his cheekbone. He leans forward until their foreheads are touching.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles. “Didn’t want to… I like what you’re doing… Don’t stop…”

But Cas just keeps caressing his cheek and it makes Dean feel so vulnerable that he thinks he might break. So he leans forward instead, catching Cas’ lips again, urging him into moving, into taking the focus off of the immense pressure of the past.

Cas obliges, kisses him back, slowly sweeps his tongue into his mouth when he invites him to, but even though Dean lets him take the lead again, Cas’ movements stay slow, deliberate, his focus still obviously on Dean’s state of mind not on his own pleasure. It isn’t so different from what Dean himself had been doing, but it feels very different. He isn’t used to someone caring this much. He isn’t sure he deserves the kindness.

“Dean?” Cas finally whispers softly. “Do you know that you’re crying?”

And indeed, every swipe of Cas’ thumb wipes away at the wetness on Dean’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats because he doesn’t know what else to say. “It’s not you.”

He half expects Cas to get up, annoyed that what started promising has devolved into a pitiful display of self-hate. But Cas doesn’t. Instead, he kicks off his shoes so that he can lie down comfortably on the bed. He scoots up until he’s parallel to Dean, wraps his arms around him and draws him close until the space between them is no more than a few inches, just enough so that their eyes can still focus. “I know it’s not me,” he says finally. He gives Dean another peck on the mouth and there is so much affection in his voice and on his face, that the tears start falling again.

It’s obnoxious, really, because “I’m happy, Cas. Please don’t think I’m not happy.” His voice breaks up, so he buries his face in Cas’ shoulder instead.

Cas just rubs soothing circles into his back, his fingers strong, evening out what knots he finds in Dean’s muscles while he’s at it.

“I wrote a song once,” Dean mumbles into Cas’ shirt because somehow that’s where all of this started. In the bathroom, when thinking about being poetic.

“Mmh?”

“After I – I lived in boy’s home for a while. That’s where I got the guitar. Sonny said I should keep at it. At playing. Find a way to express myself. So I wrote a song, once.”

“What happened?”

“Dad happened.” It doesn’t really need more explanation than that but he gives it anyway. “He found the piece of paper with the lyrics. Thought it was a poem. Said poems were for sissies and threw it in the trash.” That was the memory that had niggled at the back of his brain since he’d started thinking about Cas’ eyes.

“I like poems,” Cas states matter-of-factly and that makes Dean smile even through the pain that the memory still holds. “Would you write one for me?”

Dean vigorously shakes his head, though in this position it’s more like rubbing his face against Cas’ chest.

“A song then?” Cas asks stubbornly.

“I can’t,” Dean replies.

“Can’t or won’t?” Cas challenges even though his voice stays soft. “Because it would be terribly romantic, you know.”

That makes Dean chuckle but he still shakes his head. “Can’t, Cas, I’m not good enough.”

“Well, I’ll give you some time to practice. Say, until our first anniversary?”

That makes Dean straighten away from Cas and look at him. But there is no trace of mockery on his face. “You serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Cas looks puzzled.

“A year, man. That’s a long time.” ‘To waste on a loser like me,’ but he doesn’t add that.

“Do you not plan on still being with me in a year’s time?” Cas asks and Dean can’t decipher the tone of his voice.

“Man, I plan on still being with you when you’re old and grey, but…” He stops when he notices the implications of what he’s just said. “A song it is. At our first anniversary.”

It is a feeble attempt at distraction but judging by the radiant smile on Cas’ face it’s working. Or maybe Cas doesn’t actually have a problem with thinking about still being with Dean when they’re old and grey. Huh. There’s a new notion. Something in his heart swells and suddenly he just has to lean in again.

The kiss is soft and it lingers and it tastes like a promise. ‘I won’t ever leave you,’ Dean thinks, ‘not as long as you want me.’

Chapter Text

They kiss and they hold each other, explore under shirts and down legs. It’s not a means to an end and that in itself sets it apart from what Dean knows. With a pretty face from the bar, you don’t take the time to get to know them. Not their name, not their story, not the dips and the curves of their bodies, the soft clusters of hair and the smooth surface of muscles. You just get it on and then get it over with.

This is different. They don’t talk but they get lost in each other nevertheless.

“Bejesus, brother, didn’t I tell you not to scar me?” Gabe’s voice finally rips them back into reality.

“Jesus has nothing to do with it,” Dean says, more out of reflex than anything else. “I remember you telling me that.”

He notices only then that somehow Cas’ button-down shirt is unbuttoned and the shirt he’s wearing underneath is riding high on his ribs. He looks down at his own shirt, and yes, somehow it’s bunched up around his chest and uncovers more than it covers. Well, he’s still wearing the brace so there’s less skin visible on him than on Cas.

“I mean, I’ve seen you both in your birthday suits and all, but getting it on in a room with an audience is not polite. Unless you’ve asked the audience of course. Have they asked you?” Gabe asks Balti.

“No, they haven’t,” Balti answers at the same time that Cas says, “We weren’t getting it on.”

“That looked different from here,” Gabe smirks, hands propped up on his hips in a mock impression of a stern pose. He keeps looking at them even when he asks Balti, “Have they scarred you forever, sweetheart?”

Balthazar laughs and shakes his head. “Here,” he holds up his headphones and his cell phone. “I have like 10 songs on there, but I play them on loop.”

“So that’s your secret,” Dean exclaims. “Benevolent God my ass.”

Balti sticks his tongue out at him which is about exactly as mature a reaction as Dean has expected.

Gabe goes back to Balthazar’s nightstand and picks up one of the trays that he had parked there. “Dinner. As in, actual food. Though I’m guessing my brother is tastier…”

And now Dean has to fight the urge to stick his tongue out. Instead he draws Cas closer and says. “You’re pretty damn right about that.”

Gabriel just snorts and puts the tray down on the nightstand. “As your nurse I have to tell you that nutritionally speaking, you should eat your dinner instead. Also, remember what I told you about human bites? Don’t try to eat my brother.”

Dean rolls his eyes and Cas groans, “Get out of here, Gabriel. You have a job to do. Go do it. Someplace else.”

Gabriel just laughs and turns back to Balti. “You sure I can leave you alone with these two?”

“I’ll call you if I need saving,” Balti answers.

“Alright,” then he turns back to his brother for one last quip. “Guess you’ve never been happier that the night shift is understaffed, huh? The risk of anyone but me coming in is virtually zero. So no need for you to come out…”

“Oh fuck off, Gabe,” Dean growls, not quite sure whether the joke needs a defensive reaction but erring on the side of caution.

Gabe isn’t impressed at all, but gives him a flourishing bow and makes his exit. They can still hear him laughing even after the door has closed.

Dean turns back to Cas who has hidden his face against the pillows. “You okay, Cas?”

“Yes,” comes the muffled answer.

“Want to come out then? No pun intended.”

Cas tries to smack him for that but because his face is still buried in the pillows it’s easy to avoid. Dean chuckles and lets his hand travel down Cas’ back until it lies in the dip of the small of his back. “Come on, baby. He’s gone, it’s safe.”

Cas looks up sharply at that and Dean goes back over what he’s said that warranted this reaction. Oh.

“You okay with that?” he asks because he’s never really been a huge fan of pet names himself and he doesn’t even know why he just called Cas by one. But it didn’t sound wrong, so better be safe, because he might want to do it again.

“I just – I haven’t been. Anyone’s baby. Well, apart from my mother’s obviously but that’s different.”

Dean snorts. “I sure I hope that’s different.” Cas frowns, so Dean holds up his hands in surrender because if Cas is making his serious face, he wants to say more. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

But once he is listening, Cas needs a moment to sort his thoughts. “It’s… even with ‘Cas’ it was… Like you were claiming a part of me.”

“I wasn’t,” Dean shakes his head, “it just – seemed to suit you.” It’s almost true, anyway, because it does suit him. Not necessarily the reason Dean had for starting to call him by the name, but hey.

“Weren’t you?” Cas smile is a little shaky. “Because it seemed to me that getting to call me Cas was a part of me that no one else got but you…”

There should be an itchy feeling accompanying this, a guilty feeling, because Cas is calling him out on a half-truth. But there isn’t. Because it proves that even when Dean thought that all Cas saw in him was a drunk to be pitied, he’d been attentive enough to notice Dean’s thoughts. He’d cared.

So Dean smiles a little and takes his hand from Cas’ back to weave his fingers through Cas’. “I don’t mind them calling you Cas, though. I would mind anyone else calling you baby.” When he feels how the sentence affects Cas, how it drains the smile of its hesitant quality, he adds, “I’m possessive like that.”

That elicits a whole body shudder that makes Dean shake his head in awe.

“It’s so weird, man,” he says, “how that has such an effect on you.” Cas arches an eyebrow in question, so he shrugs. “Not used to that. Someone actually wanting to belong to me.”

He doesn’t know what he expects. To be told off for his lack of self-esteem, maybe. But what he gets is a quiet and serene “I do”, that in turn makes him shudder with its intensity.

There is no answer to that other than to press his lips against Cas’.

They don’t stop until Gabe comes back to get the dinner trays and clears his throat loudly right next to their heads.

With a sigh, they break apart.

“Cassie, I hate to spoil the party and I really hate that there’s no one else to take the role of the party pooper, but you need to get home and get your beauty sleep. You’re insufferable when you didn’t get enough sleep. And I’m not leaving you here for Pamela or Meg to find in the morning. Oh yeah, and Dean is recovering from surgery. In case you had forgotten.”

“I really don’t like you,” Cas complains sullenly. He needs two tries to get up into a halfway sitting position.

“But you know that I am right.” Gabe shakes himself. “God, I sound like you. This is awful. Lollipop?”

He holds out a neon orange and a light green lollipop, that are both looking equally disgusting.

“Thanks, Gabe, but no.”

“Hmpf. Should I leave your dinner tray here then, Dean-o? Because you didn’t take a single bite. And I think you might be hungry once I get my brother out of this room. Am I getting you out of this room, Cassie? Cause visiting hours are over. And you are a visitor right now.”

“I get it, Gabe, I get it,” Cas sighs and turns to Dean, “Do I really sound this obnoxious?”

Dean chuckles. “Not to me, you don’t.”

Cas smiles at him and he smiles back and their eyes lock and he doesn’t think Cas’ eyes have been quite as sparkly before or the laughing lines around his eyes quite as pronounced.

“Cassie, Cassie, what do I do with you?” Gabe chimes. “I appreciate you calling me by a nickname, but I’m not used to having my existence forgotten within ten seconds of talking to you.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Cas admonishes but the corners of his mouth are still curled into a smile and his gaze holds Dean’s. “I hate to admit it, but I guess he’s right. I should be going.”

Not what Dean wants to hear but he nods anyway. He takes Cas’ palm and turns it over to inspect it. The numbers are somewhat smudged but still mostly legible. He taps them with his finger and looks up at Cas again.

“I will,” Cas answers the silent question.

And that is awesome and it totally deserves another kiss, so he gives Cas one and it’s only Gabe’s exaggerated huff that makes them finally break apart for good.

Their goodbyes are fast, just a wave and a “see you tomorrow” and then Gabe marches Cas out of the room, a hand on his shoulder as if to make sure he doesn’t suddenly turn back.

Balthazar watches the whole scene with some amusement. “Double dates will either be awesome or hellish. I’m not sure yet.”

“Double-dates?” Dean asks.

“Well, even though you’ll forget all about me once you’re out of here, Gabe and Cas are still brothers. I’m guessing there will be double-dates in the future.”

“Dude, how often do I have to say it? I will not forget about you! And while we’re at it, want to give me your phone number, too?”

“I’m the last one you ask, huh?”

“Balthazar!” Dean groans. “Also, you’re not. I never asked Gabe for his number. It was an accident that I gave him mine.”

“But you were not disappointed with the result.”

Dean smiles at the snapshot of him and Cas that is now officially his lock-screen. Because you know, he can use it as a lock-screen. Because boyfriends. “Well, yeah, there’s that. Want to give me your number now?”

They exchange phone numbers and Dean thinks he hasn’t had as many personal contacts saved ever.

“Wanna see what’s on TV?” Balti asks.

“Sure.” Dean settles back into the pillows, but he couldn’t care less what’s on TV. He keeps the phone in his hand, making sure he doesn’t miss it if a message comes in. Nothing happens, though. He checks back every so often, unlocking the screen, but there’s no new messages.

He contemplates shooting a quick text to his brother, just to give an excuse why he doesn’t put the phone away when the phone give a short ding, indicating a new message.

Eagerly, he clicks on it.

Balthazar: Someone is nervous… Think he won’t come through?

Dean glares at the phone and then at Balthazar directly, whose smirk is wide enough that you can probably see it in the next state.

Instead of answering him face to face, Dean presses reply.

Dean: I’ll block you, you asshat, I swear.

He has just sent the message when there’s another ding and another message coming in. Unknown number. Immediately his heart starts beating faster.

Unknown: Hello, Dean.*wave*

“Well, that wasn’t me,” comes the comment from the other side of the room.

“It most definitely wasn’t.” Dean quickly saves Cas’ number before replying.

Dean: Good! You could read the numbers. I was getting worried.

It isn’t the most creative thing to say, but it’s true.

Cas: I would have tried every possible combination if that was the wrong one. ;-)

Dean laughs softly. He can actually see that.

Dean: How many have you tried???

The reply comes almost immediately.

Cas: Only the one. This is you Dean, right???

He chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” Balti asks in a petulant voice.

“Nothing,” Dean answers.

Dean: Hospital bed, ratty old t-shirt, nosey bed-neighbor. Sound familiar?

“Are you making fun of me?” Balti insists.

“God, you’re paranoid,” Dean looks up. “Cas is just making sure he’s got the right number, alright?”

Cas: So it’s you then. Good! That could have been awkward. :-/

“Oh. Okay then. Tell him Hi from me.”

“Will do so,” Dean nods.

Dean: Yes, it’s me. Balti says Hi. What are you up to?

It takes a moment for the reply to come.

Cas: I just came home and wanted to shower. c> Say Hi to Balti from me.

And whoa, shower is a good word. Dean whistles softly and types a little quicker than before.

Dean: Shower, huh? *ggg*

This time the reply is immediate.

Cas: That’s what people normally do after work, Dean.

Okay, he doesn’t think Cas has gotten the gist of what he’s doing to Dean’s mind here. Dean thinks a moment about what to type, because he doesn’t want to be too forward or too crude, but he can’t concentrate on anything but the image of Cas in a steamy bathroom, water and soap running down his skin.

Dean: Tell me more about it.

Neutral enough he guesses, and with a bit of luck he’ll get some actual details to enhance the movie his mind is providing.

Cas: About my shower? Why do you want to know that????

And then in quick succession:

Cas: Wait… I get it now. :-D

Dean raises his eyebrows but there’s no third text messages following. He decides to press his luck.

Dean: Does that mean you’re going to tell me?

Cas: That I am sitting in my bathroom in only my underwear texting you? Maybe. ;-)

His breath hitches at the image that suddenly got so much clearer.

Dean: It just got hot in here.

And then because the image is painfully realistic and at the same time painfully just an image in his mind, he adds.

Dean: Wish I could see you… Hair dripping wet… All soapy…

If he was a dog, he’d be drooling all over the place by now, and typing that out hasn’t made it any better.

Cas: Maybe you need a cold shower? ;-p

Cas can still joke, huh? Ah well, Dean can change that. He smirks.

Dean: Maybe I need to shower with you…

He waits impatiently for the reply.

Cas: Dean, this is NOT helping. :-)

Dean lets out a strangled laugh, arousal and humor battling for dominance in his veins. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Balthazar shaking his head at him.

Dean: Balti is looking at me weird. I might have made a noise there, when thinking about showering with you.

This time there is a noticeable pause before a reply comes.

Cas: I am all alone here, so I can do whatever I want. I like texting you. ;-)

And that gives Dean interesting ideas of what exactly Cas might be doing all alone in his bathroom… He swallows heavily and keeps his hand firmly on the phone because it’s twitching towards his nether regions and with Balti in the room that is not a possibility. ‘Quick, Winchester, think of something to defuse this.’

Dean: Dude, you have a lot of smiley faces in your texts.

It’s not incredibly smooth but it serves its purpose.

Cas: Don’t hate on smiley faces! I like emoticons. :-D :-D :-D

And he hadn’t planned to hate on them. But they are very yellow and look very silly and it’s not at all the image his mind is providing him with.

Dean: But they don’t look like you at all! Especially not naked you in the shower…

The reply takes even longer than the last one and he’s starting to get worried that he pushed too far. But then his phone lights up with a new message.

Cas: I guess I will have to take the COLD shower. I will do that now. Text me if you want, I will reply later. :-*

For a minute there, Dean is tempted to ask for a photo, but he’s pretty sure that that is pushing too far. So he just writes something short.

Dean: Til later then. I will be thinking of you.

And that is very, very much what he is doing. He can’t wipe the ridiculous smile of his face, either.

While the detectives on screen find a drug dealer, he thinks that Cas should about now be washing his hair. When the detectives have followed the lead to a hippie girl with an obvious drug problem, he thinks Cas is probably now getting his towel and rubbing himself dry. He keeps his mind from going deeper into the direction of rubbing and friction because Balti and shared room and dammit.

He takes out his phone again.

Dean: So unfair. Me being stuck here with a second person in the room and having all these thoughts about you.

He’s unsure about it but then hits send anyway.

The TV cops are interviewing their main suspect again but he doesn’t even remember why the guy is a suspect.

All of this is so new and he has no idea where the boundaries are. If Cas still latently believes that being gay is a sin – is admitting how fucking attracted Dean is to him and how much he wants to take what they did in the afternoon further already too much?

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed what they did. A lot. They can take their time, he is good with that. He won’t push past what Cas is ready for. But God help him, he’d had inappropriate thoughts about him from day one and now that they are officially together and the thoughts are at least in principle entirely appropriate, he can’t hold them back. Or his physical reaction to them.

Dean: Help! I’m overthinking this.

Dean: ‘This’ being the part of the texts that wasn’t emoticons.

And boy, does he sound middle-school, not being able to spell out the words attraction or arousal or sex. He sighs.

Dean: Promise to tell me. If I ever push too far. I’ll back off right away. Okay? ily.

Explaining this shit via text messages is not any easier than talking about it. But that’s the best he can do. He just has to hope that Cas understands.

Of course that hope is mixed with some gnawing anxiety, and the minutes turn into hours in his head while he’s waiting. How long can a single shower take?

The crime show is over and replaced by another crime show that he gets about as much of. Finally, his phone is lighting up again. Nervously, he slides the lock-screen out of the way.

Cas: Promise. Ily2.<3

It’s short and the heart is sappy and it makes Dean incredibly happy.

Cas: Bed now. Sweet dreams!

Dean: u2.

He almost adds another ‘ily’ but maybe it’s too often saying it every time. Also, he can say it in person in morning.

He holds on to that thought when he closes his eyes. And if he also has the image of Cas in the shower still somewhere in the forefront of his mind, who can blame him? Maybe it will bring him sweet dreams.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, he wakes up on his own. No Rise and Shine.

He stretches and slowly brings the world into focus, the dream he was remembering a minute ago already forgotten. It had been an okay dream, but that’s all that stuck in his brain.

Soft whispers are coming from his left, and there’s the explanation why he didn’t get woken up. Balti and Gabe wanted some alone-time. He can deal with that. So he closes his eyes again, and replays yesterday in his half-focused half-asleep state. It is very pleasant.

Up until the moment when the clatter of the door shakes him out of his reverie. He half-expects Cas making a visit before his shift starts, but no, Gabe is already in street clothes, so Cas is working. And it’s Pamela who’s coming in.

“Hey Pam, where’s my brother?” Gabe greets her.

So Dean isn’t the only one who thought Cas might drop by.

“Staff meeting. Meg called it. Something about efficiency and turnaround times? Only doctors and her allowed.”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “Uh oh, not good.”

Pamela shrugs. “What did you expect? With you and Dr. Novak both preoccupied, she’s trying to take over the floor.”

She puts the breakfast trays in front of them. “Dean? Do you want to start with the morning routine?”

“Sure,” he sighs.

It goes faster now anyway, because he can go brush his teeth on his own.

“Have you ever done the thrombosis shot on your own?” Pamela asks.

“No?” Dean answers hesitantly.

“Well, then I’ll show you how to do it and you can try it out.”

“I gotta poke myself with a needle?”

“Yes,” Pamela confirms.

“I don’t like it.”

She chuckles. “Doesn’t help I’m afraid.”

“Is it really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so. You can come back in for check-ups, but you have to do the shot every day. So you better to be able to do it on your own.” She thinks for a moment before nodding to herself. “We better change out that bandage this morning, too. Though I’m guessing Dr. Novak wants to be here for that. Final check of the scar.”

Dean doesn’t ask but a small ball of dread has formed in his stomach.

“The thrombosis shots come prepackaged. So there’s no chance that you’re going to get the dosage wrong. And it’s actually pretty easy to set the shot. You just take the skin on your stomach and press it together like this,” she demonstrates it. “Then you stick the needle in and slowly press down on it. Ready to try it out?”

Dean shakes his head but he takes the syringe from her anyway. “Like this?” he asks and tries to imitate what she had done with his skin.

“Yes,” Pamela nods.

“And you’re sure that I can’t like pierce right through my stomach?”

“I’m sure,” she confirms.

Dean looks at the needle distrustfully. He prides himself on not being squeamish, but the fucking shot always hurts.

“The quicker you are, the less the pain.”

“Less anticipation, not less pain,” Gabe chimes in from the other side of the room. “Just get it over with, Dean. You’re hands are steady enough again to do this.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Dean grunts because jeez, he didn’t need any additional pressure. Like worrying about random tremors coming back just when he’s about to stab himself.

“Of course you could always ask Cassie to come by every day and give you the shot,” Gabe teases.

“Asshole,” Dean mutters but of course now he has no choice anymore but to go through with this, because Pam is already looking too curious. He jams the needle into the fatty tissue of his tummy and hisses in pain.

“Now slowly, very slowly.”

He presses on the bottom of the needle until it’s empty. Then he draws it out of his skin again, more carefully than he had jabbed it in. Pam holds out a metal bowl and he lets the syringe clamor into it.

“Well done. One task down, one blood sample to go.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to take the blood sample himself and a few minutes later he is some blood poorer and a bandaid richer.
Pam leaves him to find his way to the bathroom on his own and shoos Gabe out of the room before turning to Balthazar.
By the time Dean gets back from the bathroom, she’s already gone.

“You’re really getting out of here,” Balti says wistfully.

“Oh, come on, man, don’t go all sad puppy on me, I get to annoy you for a whole other day.”

“I fear you don’t,” Cas’ voice comes from the open door.

Dean is glad that he was already holding on to the bed, because that voice makes his knees buckle when he isn’t expecting it. He sinks down on the bed. “Man, don’t make the patients fall over. You know your voice has an effect on me.”

Cas half-smiles but he doesn’t look happy.

“And what do you mean by I don’t have a day?”

“Looks like we’re going to discharge you this afternoon.”

“What?” It’s like a cold hand clutches around his heart. “But you said tomorrow!”

Cas nods and comes a step into the room so that he can close the door behind him. “I know. But we went over your case in the staff meeting and…” He shrugs.

“Demon-Meg wants to get rid of me,” Dean states and instinctively wraps his arms around himself because the cold hand around his heart is still there.

“Your progress has been remarkable. You’re doing very well, you’re keeping your food down, you can walk. We’re waiting on the newest blood test results, but I have no doubt they’ll be fine. Dean, you’re ready to go home.”

“No, I’m not,” Dean shakes his head fervently.

“Dean…” Cas comes another few steps closer until he is crowding into Dean’s space.

“No,” Dean leans back and away from him. “No, you don’t understand. I’m not ready. I can’t go home today. I can’t.”

Cas stops advancing and looks at him worriedly. “What is it? What’s up?”

Dean screws his eyes shut because his head is starting to swim and that means his breathing is too shallow and that a panic attack is coming. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Give me your hands,” Cas’ voice is closer than it was, and when Dean opens his eyes he has to look up to meet his eyes. “Come on.”

“Can’t, too cold,” because suddenly his teeth are chattering.

“You can. I won’t let you freeze. Breathe slowly, give me your hands.”

He has no willpower against this voice and if Cas promises not to let him freeze, well, he trusts him. So he uses what focus he’s got left to unwrap his arms. As soon as he lays his hands into Cas’, Cas pushes closer, wrapping Dean’s arms around his back and pulling Dean into a tight hug.

His face gets smushed against Cas’ scrubs, the smell of washing powder and disinfectant stronger than smell of Cas underneath. But Cas’ warmth is seeping through.

“Deep breaths. Slowly. Breathe with me.”

He knows the routine by now, but it’s still different, because this time he doesn’t see what Cas is doing but he can feel it. Cas’ chest is rising and falling in a steady motion, a perfect counter-rhythm to his heartbeat. Dean listens to the strong two-stroke of Cas’ heart, the endless repetition a source of wonder instead of boredom.

He doesn’t think that it takes more than a few minutes before his own heart-rate has stabilizes and his breathing slows down. It doesn’t make the nervousness in his stomach go away, but it recedes enough that he can put words to it. Without letting go he asks, “What if it all falls apart? What if it’s just a spell over this room? What if the second I’m leaving I’m reverting back to who I was? What if you won’t want me anymore?” It comes out in one big rush, his voice holding only mostly steady.

“Dean,” Cas lays a hand under his chin to make him look up. “I will still want you. I promise.”

“What if,” Dean tries to turn his head away but Cas doesn’t let him. So he says it to his face, “what if I fall off the wagon? What if I start drinking again?”

Cas goes a little more rigid but he doesn’t pull away. He thinks about it for a moment before he answers. “Then I’ll still want you. But I won’t be able to be with you. Does that make sense to you?”

Dean nods and buries his head back in Cas’ chest, because yes, it makes sense and he knows that he wants Cas to be stable and to not let him get away with shit and enable his addiction, but it still hurts, thinking about not being with Cas.

When Dean leans into him, the tension drains out of Cas, his body going soft. “I believe in you, Dean.” It is said quietly and accompanied by a gentle kiss on his hair. “You can do this.”

He isn’t sure that just cause Cas said so will make it so but somehow it gives him enough strength to straighten up and think about this practically. “I have to call Sam so that he can pick me up. When should he be here?”

“In the afternoon. Between 3 and 4 maybe?”

Dean nods. “Okay.”

Cas gives him a tiny half-smile and there is sadness mixed into it. “I’ll miss you.”

“But we’re going to see each other?” Dean asks, heartrate immediately up a notch again.

“Of course!” Cas emphasizes. “But… It was nice. Having you here.”

Dean isn’t feeling good yet, but that still makes him grin a little. “Even if you broke all your rules and shit?”

“Well, yeah, alright, I’m not going to miss the moral ambiguity,” Cas allows.

“Dude,” Dean shakes his head, “you’re the only person who can work the words ‘moral ambiguity’ into an actual sentence.”

Cas laughs and with a last pat on the back lets go of Dean. “And you are obviously feeling better if you can make fun of me. So, you call your brother. I’ll go save some lives in the meantime.”

Cas is already almost at the door, when Dean calls him back. “Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

A deep smile spreads on Cas’ face. “I love you, too, Dean.”

Dean smiles back and doesn’t know whether Cas realizes that Dean’s pretty sure that Cas saved his life, too.

“You better call Gabe,” Balti chimes in as soon as Cas is out of the door. “He’ll be pissed if he misses his chance at saying goodbye to you.”

“Thought we were going on double-dates?” And look, he’s recovered enough for the joke to actually sound somewhat funny.

“Just call him, you assclown,” Balti rolls his eyes.

“With the swear words now, huh? Is it my bad influence?”

“That tough guy image is so late 90s, Dean.”

“Hey, I’m retro,” he chuckles while he searches through his contacts.

It rings only twice before Sam’s taking the call. “Dean? Is everything okay?”

Dean frowns because he doesn’t like it that the default mode for calls from him is still ‘the world must be ending’. “I’m fine. Actually, too good it seems. They’re letting me out early. This afternoon to be precise. Could you come get me? I’d take a cab but…”

No need to finish the sentence, though, because Sam is already saying. “Oh wow, you’re getting out early? Cool! When should I be there?”

“Is 3 pm okay for you?”

“Hmm, I’ll try. Might be more towards the 3:30. Got an appointment in the early afternoon.”

“Alright,” Dean nods and doesn’t ask. “Thanks, man.”

“Sure. That’s what family is for.”

They hang up and Dean shoots a quick text to Gabe, telling him about the new developments.

In no time, it’s lunch, and when that’s over, Pamela comes back with Cas in tow.

“Brought you your doctor, Dean. Last check-up before we let you go.”

Dean smiles at them both, but is at a loss for what to say. Pam doesn’t know that he and Cas are actually together, though she must be blind if she isn’t suspecting something. Dean might be able to pull off the star-struck patient, because hey, that’s pretty much what he is anyway, but he doesn’t know whether that’s okay for Cas. So he just silently pleads for Cas’ help.

Cas nods and launches into doctor mode. “Your blood results came back, and as expected, they are fine. There are no signs of infection. In fact, all of your blood values have improved significantly since you came here.”

“Well, the blood alcohol level has decreased severely,” Dean mutters under his breath and earns a stern look from both Pam and Cas for it. “I’m sorry, I mean it’s due to the many vitamins in the hospital food, I’m sure,” he says louder.

That makes Balti snort at least, so he counts it as a win.

“Can you lay back so that I can take off the bandage?” Pamela asks him.

“Sure,” Dean says and does as he’s told.

With swift fingers, Pamela loosens the brace and then the gauze. The latter rips at his skin, but no more than he has expected. Then Pamela steps back to give Cas space to inspect the scar. He catches Dean’s eyes quickly and gives him a smile before he starts prodding at the wound. Dean turns his head away, because while he isn’t scared of the wound anymore, he still doesn’t like seeing it.

“No redness, no swelling. The wound has closed and the tissue is healing at the rate expected,” Cas’ voice is satisfied. “Very good. I think we can get away without a new bandage and only go with a band-aid.”

Pamela nods and quickly puts on a band-aid before refastening the brace around Dean’s stomach.

“If I was you, I’d keep the brace on for another week. You can take it off for showering and when it gets too uncomfortable, but keep it on most of the time.”

“Okay,” Dean nods. He isn’t particularly against having something covering the scar.

“In a week, you come back in and we’ll pull the stitches.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats.

Cas nods and turns to Pamela. “You have shown him about the thrombosis shots?”

“Yes, doctor,” she nods.

“Good. We’re giving you enough of the medication to last you through the weekend. After that, you should be walking around enough that you don’t need them anymore. You got to give yourself one shot per day. Can you do this?”

“Do I have a choice?” Dean sighs.

“Well, you can find someone else to give you the shots if you can’t do it yourself.”

Dean looks at Cas quizzically because the thought had crossed his mind and that would be a pretty damn good excuse to see Cas every day, but then he shakes his head. He’ll see Cas because he’s Cas’ boyfriend. He doesn’t need excuses. “Nah, I can do it.”

“Good,” Cas nods. “Apart from that: Be careful. No sports. No heavy lifting. No strenuous activity.”

It doesn’t even need Balti’s choked chortle for Dean to have to suppress a smirk and fake-innocently ask back, “No strenuous activity at all?”

Cas gives a little sideways glance towards Pam and rolls his eyes but the corners of his mouth are twitching. “Absolutely no strenuous activity whatsoever. For at least a month. After that, well, maybe under a doctor’s supervision…”

He smirks outright at his own innuendo and now it’s Dean who has to fight to keep his face smooth.

Cas notices it of course and grins smugly before turning back to the nurse. “Well, I think from my side that’s all. Pamela, have I forgotten anything?”

“Well, there’s the standard no alcohol speech…” Pamela says with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Cas nods, “I think he’s gotten that one from about everyone, me included. It doesn’t need to be repeated.”

“Then that’s all, doctor.”

“Alright,” Cas nods. “I’ll come by later with the papers. When is your brother coming to get you?”

“About half past three.”

“Alright. I’ll make sure to be there before that then. Pamela, after you.”

Cas uses the opportunity of Pam walking in front of him to quickly squeeze Dean’s hand on the way out.

Chapter Text

It’s amazing how fast time passes today, after it’s been creeping along for most of the week.

Pamela comes back to help him pack his stuff and bring the package with the thrombosis shots. She also helps him when he struggles into a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt, the first real clothes he’s worn since the accident.
Balthazar is whining and complaining about being left behind.
Dean hasn’t gotten a text back from Gabe, but then, Gabe is probably sleeping. He just hopes he gets the message in time.

It’s a quarter past three when there is a knock and Sam’s tall frame fills the doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asks cheerfully.

“Not quite, actually,” Dean answers, “but almost. Still waiting for Cas to bring the papers. And for Gabe to show up to say good-bye. Are we in a hurry?”

“Nope,” Sam plunks himself down on the visitor’s chair. “Everything’s settled, no more appointments.”

“What were you doing anyway?”

“Posting your bond.”

And ouch, Dean had forgotten all about that. “Umm, thanks. How much was it?”

Sam shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Bobby and I got it covered. You got a court date in four weeks by the way. My professor knows about it and has already scheduled his trip.”

“Oh, wow.” Dean has no idea what else to say.

“But I’m guessing that’s a worry for another day. Are you ready to be out of here?”

Sam’s got too much peppy energy to be entirely natural is what Dean is thinking, but what he says is, “Not as ready as I thought I would be. Kind of got used to the place.”

“Or to the Dr. Sexy feel of it,” Balti supplies helpfully.

Dean turns around to him. “Don’t know whether anyone has told you, but I’m actually taking Dr. Sexy home. Well, not home-home, but – you know what I mean.”

Balti chuckles and gives him a thumbs up. “It was hard to miss, Dean, believe me. I tried.”

“I severely hope you missed the more juicy parts. And if you didn’t: Promise not to use any of them in that strange movie of yours?”

Balti gives him a sugary smile and lays his hand over his heart. “On Kevin's scout's honor.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean snorts because that promise isn’t worth much. “If you had sworn on Gabe’s cakes, you know, I might have believed you.”

“Nope,” Balti shakes his head. “Not going to happen. I’m not risking those.”

They both laugh while Sam just shakes his head. “I feel very much out of the loop, here.”

Dean waves him off. “It’s not important.”

Cas chooses this moment to come in. “Oh, you’re already here,” he says when he sees Sam.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Sam replies with narrowed eyes.

“No, I didn’t mean…” Cas fumbles for the right words but gives up. “Thank you for coming. And for taking care of your brother.”

That makes both Sam and Dean raise their eyebrows.

But Cas just shrugs and hands Dean a small stack of papers. “Here. They’re signed already.”

“Thanks,” he takes them, folds them and puts them in the outside pocket of his duffle.

“It’s all set then,” Cas says solemnly.

“I guess so,” Dean answers quietly.

“Jesus, guys, you sound like someone died, not like someone is healthy enough to leave the hospital,” Sam remarks.

“Admittedly, I’m not usually this sad to see a patient go home,” Cas admits. “You will take good care of him at home, right?” he asks Sam. “He will never admit it but he needs someone to care for him.”

“Dude…” Apparently, the cat got Sam’s tongue.

“I’m sorry,” Cas immediately apologizes. “It is none of my business, I know. Only it kind of is. Dean is very important to me, Sam.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Sam frowns but then relents. “Seems like you’re equally important to him, so I’m not taking offense. You’re welcome to come by and make sure that we treat him right.”

“It’s not about…” Cas’ eyes soften. “I know that you love him. It’s just…”

“He knows, Cas,” Dean interrupts. “Because I’ve told him. About the nightmares and the panic attacks and everything. I’ll keep telling him, okay?”

“Okay,” Cas answers and his smile is small but it’s radiant in its affection and his trust in Dean. It warms everything inside him.

“Am I too late? Is he gone already?” An out-of-breath Gabe practically runs down the door. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re still here.”

He launches himself at Dean and hugs him long and tight enough that both Balthazar and Cas clear their throats at some point.

When that still isn’t enough to discourage Gabe, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and Cas pulls him back. “Hands off my boyfriend, Gabriel.”

Gabe just smirks. “Would not have thought it, but jealousy kind of suits you, big brother.” He leans in to Dean again, for another, much shorter hug. “I’m going to miss you, Dean-o. Not as sorely as I’m going to miss my sweetheart when he’s finally getting out of here, but it’s going to be bad as it is.”

Dean hugs Gabe back. “Yeah, man, believe it or not, I’m going to miss you, too. Not in the mornings, though. I can live without rise and shine.”

When they part, Gabe’s eyes look a little glassy and he surreptitiously wipes at them.

“Man,” Dean pats him on the shoulder, at a loss for what to do. Then he has an idea. “Gimme your phone.”

“What?”

“Come on, asshat, gimme your phone.”

Suspiciously, Gabe hands it over. Dean immediately gives it on to Sam who looks at him questioningly but takes the phone.

Dean points at Cas and Gabe. “You two, over to Balti’s bed. Do me a favor, Sammy? Make a picture of the four of us?”

“That’s an awesome idea!” Gabe brightens up.

“I know,” Dean says with a satisfied smile.

On socks, he carefully makes his way over to Balti’s bed and sits down somewhere near the foot-end. Gabe goes to sit behind Balti and wraps his arms around him, while Cas finds a place next to Dean. Dean puts his arm around Cas’ waist and in return gets drawn in by the shoulder.

Sam has figured out the camera in the phone in the meantime and finds a good position. “Smile everyone!”

They do and the phone clicks once, twice, three times.

“One of those should be good,” Sam says and hands the phone back to Gabe, who immediately goes to check the pictures.

“I want those,” Dean tells him. “Just in case you were in doubt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabe says. Then he finds the photos and smiles widely, “aww, look at us! We’re so cute! Like a big happy Dr. Sexy family!”

They groan simultaneously while Sam says frustrated, “This is not Dr. Sexy! There’s no cowboy boots!”

That makes them all laugh again.

“Speaking of boots,” Dean sighs, “I guess it’s time.” He makes his way over to where his shoes are neatly stacked next to the bed.

“Need help?” Cas asks.

“Nope.” It’s slow work and it hurts a bit because leaning forward with the brace is no fun, but the shoes are easy to slip in and he makes it without too much trouble.

“All set then?” his brother asks.

“I guess so.” It is weird but he already misses this room. He gets to his feet anyway and turns back to the others. “Gabe, you’ve had your hug. Balti, I’m not going to say good-bye to you. Because I’m coming back to visit, so there’s no need. Cas…”

But Cas shakes his head and holds out his hand.

Dean looks at him perplexed.

“I’m coming with. To the parking lot at least. Off hospital grounds, I can kiss you goodbye proper. Not that it’ll be a long goodbye. I plan on dropping by as soon as you’re settled in at Mr. Singer’s. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Of course!” Dean nods because there’s definitely no question about that.

Cas is still holding out his hand, so Dean slides his hand into it.

“Are you sure? Demon-Meg might see and all.”

Cas nods. “Then may her eyes fall out of her head. Cause I’m sure.”

The warm tingle of belonging radiates from their hands to Dean’s chest and right into his heart. He squeezes Cas’ fingers tight. “I love you. You know that right?”

Cas smiles at him. “I love you, too, Dean. Good things do happen.”