Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Basic first aid kit?"

"Check."

"Defibrillator?"

"Check."

Castiel reached over and briefly flipped on the siren, smiling when it caused his friend to jump and clap his hands over his ears. It was supposedly a fairly deafening sound from inside the vehicle, but it wasn’t as though it bothered Castiel.

"Siren. Check," he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. He glanced up when he saw Balthazar gesturing angrily towards the back if the ambulance while his jaw moved furiously.

"I can't read the back of your head, Balthazar." He said, marking another item off of his checklist.

The blond heaved a huge sigh before turning and pointing to his lips dramatically.

"I said: The siren isn't on the rig check, you complete asshole."

Castiel studied the shapes his friend's lips made, nodding with a smile once he'd read the sentence off of them.

"Apologies. It must have said 'Syringe'."

Castiel most definitely did not miss the glare that was shot his way, despite having turned his attention back towards the checklist.

"Adrenaline shots?"

Balthazar leaned down to check and gave him a thumbs up.

"Oxygen tanks?"

Castiel looked over at the tanks and double checked their fill levels. Last time they'd had a shift, the EMT's before them had forgotten to refill their tanks and caused them to lose precious time doing it for them. Fortunately, all seemed well this time around.

"Check. And that looks like everything's accounted for."

Balthazar just grimaced and pointed to his ears. "Except my eardrums."

Castiel stared back at him with an unamused expression on his face, but Balthazar was already going for the deck of cards they kept next to the first aid kit.

“And Anna,” Castiel mentioned. “What time is she supposed to be here?”

Balthazar checked the time on his phone and scoffed. “Ten minutes ago. That probie’s gonna have some explaining to do.”

Castiel hummed as he set down his clipboard just as the ambulance doors flew open to reveal their very frazzled-looking new team addition.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a little breathless as she clambered into the vehicle. “I didn’t hear my alarm go off this morning.”

Balthazar clapped Anna on the back and gestured towards Castiel. “Neither did Cassie. Never does, as a matter of fact, and yet he’s always here on time.”

Castiel rolled his eyes as Anna flushed red with embarrassment.

“It’s alright, Anna.” he assured, remembering how nervous and anxious he’d been when he first started. “You won’t get docked this time, but it’s very vital that you’re here on time from now on, alright? You missed rig check.”

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry. Is there anything you want me to do?”

Balthazar grinned and held up a pack of cards with a wink.

Playing cards on their down time worked out well for both Castiel and Balthazar, and had become their favorite thing to do in their free time. Seeing as Balthazar loved kicking Castiel's ass and Castiel loved that it could easily be played in silence, it worked out for everyone. No sound was necessary and if Balthazar really wanted to trash-talk he'd make sure it was when Castiel was looking at his face.

Anna made sure that neither one cheated.

Castiel studied the hand he'd been dealt and spared a brief glance to his watch. They were currently at the beginning of a 24 hour shift and they really should have been attempting to get some sleep in shifts while they still could.

"Do you think we'll get any crazy calls tonight?" he asked curiously. Balthazar had been at this for longer than he had, and tended to be better at predicting these things.

Castiel caught the scoff and the shake of his head.

"On a Thursday night? Fuck-all happens on a Thursday night."

Castiel rolled his eyes and brought the cards back up to his face just to feel a light touch on his upper arm. Balthazar's voice filled his mind.

"So expect to be crushed tonight. Many times."

Castiel cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

"We will see," he thought back.

***

Three hours later and Balthazar was indeed crushing him. Castiel had only won a single game and he was ninety percent sure that it was a pity win. There had been much gloating from Balthazar and many crude sign language gestures from Castiel that Balthazar had gleefully announced he was memorizing for future use.

Anna had to slap Balthazar’s hand from slipping an ace up his sleeve, but it was a one-time event and Balthazar concluded that he didn’t really need to cheat to win anyway--but it was fun to see if he could get away with it.

About halfway through the thirteenth game, Castiel felt his pager vibrating and from the look on Balthazar's face, his own walkie-talkie was ringing.

"Here we go," Balthazar muttered before bring it up to his lips and talking rapidly enough that Castiel couldn't quite keep up. Anna was nodding nervously as she listened to the conversation.

Balthazar finally nodded and grabbed Castiel's wrist, knowing that it was a much faster way to communicate when they were being rushed.

"Car accident up on Maricopa Highway. Some idiot thought he could take one of those shallow cliff side turns going sixty and tumbled off the side."

Castiel raised his eyebrows.

"He's still alive as of two minutes ago but he's badly hurt and trapped in the car. We've got to move fast. I'll drive."

“What about the medics? This sounds like it’s a job for someone higher up.”

Balthazar nodded grimly.“They’re on their way, but they’re about forty-five minutes out. This one’s on us.”

Castiel nodded in agreement and broke their connection by jerking his arm back and getting to work. He needed to mentally take stock of which medical supplies they would probably need. With any luck, the fire department would get there just as fast as they did, seeing as the guy would probably need to be cut out of his vehicle.

They sped along the highway and Castiel assumed that Balthazar had turned on the siren because he could see the hues of red and blue flashing through the front window.

"How long until we get there?" he shouted, hoping he'd spoken loud enough to be heard over the siren.

Without looking away from the road, Balthazar held up five fingers.

Castiel looked back over to Anna. “I’m going to need you to write down my assessment for me when we get to the scene, alright? I’ll be busy helping the victim and it will be an easy way for you to learn.”

Anna nodded and Castiel clasped his hands together as he tried to get into the right headspace for what he had to do.

This was definitely going to be a tricky one. He could feel it. Nothing less than the top of his game was going to be acceptable.

He couldn’t think of a worse feeling than losing someone that he was trying to save. There had been countless nights that he’d spent awake in his bed, replaying what he could have done differently over and over again in the name of improving himself for the next time.

Balthazar had finally had to intervene, when Castiel kept coming to work with dark circles under his eyes.

Luckily for his state of mind, Castiel had yet to lose someone in a way that could have been prevented if he was person with hearing. With how much he was trying to prove to himself and those who doubted his proficiency, that at least was a weight off his shoulders.

The moment the vehicle was no longer in motion, Castiel opened the back doors and jumped out, tossing Balthazar a flashlight and meeting him out at the edge of the shallow cliff.

“Alright,” Castiel murmured, “I’ll climb down and see if I can stabilize him and let you know what equipment we need before you climb down.”

Balthazar raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I’ll be fine.” he said in exasperation. “I’ll probably have to communicate with him through touch anyway. And Anna will be there just in case.”

Castiel jumped over the busted railing, gestured for Anna to follow, and started down the incline just as a police car came into view. The rocky incline wasn’t incredibly steep, but he still couldn't go as fast as he wanted for fear of tripping and stumbling down to the bottom to join the crushed car.

The car looked like it was an older vehicle, a big black muscle car that had been more or less thoroughly smashed from its roll down the hill. It had been propped up on its side between a large boulder and a huge brush, making it so the driver’s side door was against the ground.

Castiel hadn’t seen many people survive an accident this severe.

He shone the flashlight into the--now nonexistent--windshield around the front of the vehicle, running forward when he caught sight of the driver.

The man’s jaw was clenching in what Castiel could only assume was pain. Blood was dripping down into his eyes from a deep cut on his hairline, causing him to keep his eyes shut or rapidly blink the blood away.

“Sir,” Castiel called out as he jogged forward, kneeling next to the injured man. “I need you to tell me what hurts. If you can.”

Yes, it was a stupid question, but necessary nonetheless. Between the two of them, the victim was going to be able to tell him what was broken the best.

Castiel watched him closely, already forming a mental checklist of what medical devices they’d need once the fire department arrived and cut him out of the car.

The man was breathing heavily, gritting his teeth a he struggled to speak.

This was wasting time.

Castiel reached out and placed a gentle hand against the bare skin of the man’s arm, expecting a grateful response for not having to expend energy by talking. Most victims of trauma preferred it when he could easily assess what was wrong with them by a simple touch.

“DON’T TOUCH ME DON’T TOUCH ME LET GO GET OUT OF MY HEAD--”

Castiel jerked his hand back in surprise at the shouting and violent emotions that had filled his mind the moment they’d touched.

Maybe the man’s mind hadn’t really processed what had happened yet, and thought he was some sort of threat. Situations like that did happen every once in awhile, but not usually in such a defensive manner.

Castiel frowned and reached through where the glass on the windshield once was to touch him on the arm again.

“Sir, I’m trying to help--”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD STOP TOUCHING ME”

“I’m trying to help you!”

The man’s eyes snapped open, anger clearly prevalent.

“STOP FUCKING TOUCHING ME”

Castiel quickly pulled his hand back when a very impressive mental wall came crashing down in front of him, effectively blocking him from getting any more thoughts out of the guy.

“Alright. I won’t touch you anymore. But I’m getting in the car so that I can make sure your spine isn’t damaged and to take stock of your injuries.”

He didn’t wait for any sort of confirmation before he stood back up and looked over to Anna who was gripping the clipboard tightly.

“Heavy blood loss, most likely broken bones.”

Anna stayed frozen, staring at the upturned car.

“Anna!”

She jerked her head and held a thumbs up, furiously copying down what Castiel had said.

Castiel ran around the car and stood facing the underside, hoping it would be stable enough for him to climb inside. He lifted himself carefully up onto the side of the car, muscles straining, and breathed out a sigh of relief at the surprising stability.

He pushed any remnants of shattered glass out of the way and shimmied through the window, dropping himself inside the small space directly behind the trapped man.

This was definitely going to be a bit tricky to maneuver.  Since both the car and the driver were on their sides, Castiel was going to have to sit on the very damaged seat directly behind him, and lie on his side in order to fit in the space.

“I’m going to reach around and check to make sure that your spine isn’t damaged.”

The driver immediately started squirming, causing him to jerk in what was probably pain.

“I’m not going to touch you. It’ll be over your clothing.”

The squirming stopped.

Castiel reached over the seat and gently felt the shoulder alignment. Nothing out of place so far. He slowly moved his hands inward and trailed them lightly down the spinal cord, concentrating on any possible abnormalities.

He let out a relieved breath and removed his hand. It would have been about ten times harder to get him out of the care if he’d had a broken spine or shoulder. That being said, it was still going to be difficult.

The man’s jaw started moving and Castiel grit his teeth in frustration. Even if he had been facing him in full view of his mouth, Castiel doubted he’d have been able to read the slurred speech on the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said aloud, hating that he had to resort to this. “I can’t hear you.”

His mouth kept moving and Castiel still couldn’t understand.

Castiel pushed himself up and crouched over the driver. The man’s right arm looked thoroughly banged up, probably broken in at least three places from the looks of it, and he had severe gashes on his legs and arms. They’d need to patch those up quickly.

Once he was satisfied with his quick lookover, he and lifted himself back up through the window, relieved to see that Balthazar was already almost to the car with the fire engine pulling up behind him on the street.

The moment Balthazar was in reach, Castiel grabbed his arm.

“Shattered right arm, lots of lacerations that he’ll need bandaged, possible broken ribs. Spine is fine, but you’re going to have to go in and patch him up. He’s trying to tell me something and I… can’t hear him.”

Balthazar tilted his head in confusion.

“Why didn’t you just touch--”

“Don’t touch him. Or at least try not to touch him, as much as you possibly can. He’s… you’ll see. Are the paramedics almost here?”

“They're not going to make it in time.”

Castiel nodded, let go of his arm and got to work with the supplies, handing Balthazar the gauze before he crawled into the car.

He repeated his assessment to Anna, making sure that she wrote it down as well.

He waited, on edge, as three firefighters made their way down the steep hill, dragging the large shears they called “The Jaws of Life,” able to slice through car metal with ease.

Balthazar climbed out just as they reached the bottom and his hands looked like they had a good amount of blood on them from wrapping up the wounds.

One of the responders gestured at Balthazar wildly as he held up his hands in a surrendering look. It was too dark to read lips from that far away, but he could easily bet that they were being chastised for going into and near the car before it had been stabilized with struts. They had both known it was a risk, but the car seemed pretty well propped up.

Balthazar was wiping his hands on his pants as Castiel reached out to touch him on the arm for more information.

“Is he--”

“I wrapped him up best I could. We’ll have to do more when they get him out of there.” Balthazar shook his head. “If this guy makes it… holy shit, I hope he goes into some sort of mental therapy. I’ve never seen anyone reject a touch connection that strongly before.”

“Me neither.”

“His name’s Dean Winchester. Twenty-six years old. No prior medical conditions, but I’ll bet anything he’s had some mental trauma in his past. Maybe military. Alert and Oriented times two.”

Which meant he’d gotten one of the assessment questions wrong.

“Most likely. He threw a military grade mental wall at me. That’s something they teach in the marines.”

“Shit.”

Castiel dropped his hand to break their connection as he watched the firemen get to work on cutting the entire roof off the car, and Balthazar no doubt relayed any important medical history he’d been able to get out of the driver to Anna.

The driver had already lost a lot of blood and he doubted he could wait much longer. The moment that those firemen pulled him out of the car, he and Balthazar would have to move fast and get him on the backboard as fast as possible. They were probably going to need a few of the firemen to help get him up that hill as well. It was going to be difficult.

And it was already taking too long.

Castiel bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited, ready to spring into action the moment they brought Dean out of the car.

Beside him, Balthazar winced and stepped forward.

“What? What is it?” Castiel asked, craning his neck to look towards the car before looking back at his friend for an answer.

“He just screamed.”

Castiel wasted no time running forward to the section of the car where the roof had been cut and pulled back. Idiots. They should have made sure to tell them to be careful.

He reached out and tapped one of the firemen on the shoulder forcefully.

“Thank you, we’ll take it from here.” he said curtly, stepping in front of him to block the way between him and the driver. “Balthazar!”

Bending down and gingerly avoiding Dean’s broken arm, he firmly gripped the other shoulder and his waist.

“Don’t try and help,” he told Dean, “Let us do the work.”

Balthazar was right beside him, supporting the man’s lower half as they began to extract him from the car and set him on the rack.

The scary thing was, Dean had been fairly lucid while they’d been talking to him. The pain had probably been a big distraction, but he’d been awake and able to talk back to Balthazar. The moment they got him out from the car, Dean’s eyes began to glaze over, his entire body became limp, and if Castiel was reading his lips correctly, he was slurring everything.

Internal bleeding. It had to be.

While Dean was in the car, the way he was positioned must have been putting pressure on the wound, but when they’d taken him out, whatever had been keeping him alive was gone, and they didn’t have time to sit around and talk anymore.

“Dean, I need you to stay with me.” Castiel said, fighting off the mild panic that he thought he’d long since trained himself out of. If he was exhibiting a sign of internal bleeding, then they needed to get him to the hospital as fast as they possibly could. He quickly put the cervical collar around Dean’s neck to stabilize it just in case of any spine injury that he’d missed.  

Despite Dean’s previously violent protests, Castiel pressed two fingers against Dean’s wrist, trying to find a pulse as Balthazar strapped him to the backboard and waved some of the firefighters over to help them lift him up the hill.

“… don’t deserve to be saved anyway…”

Castiel pulled his hand back, looking up at Balthazar and the two other volunteers. “We need to get him into the ambulance now. On the count of three, we all lift. One, two, three.”

They all lifted at the same time, and got him up the hill in record time. Moving as fast as they could, they loaded him into the back of the ambulance and Castiel could see Balthazar radio in the report as he ran around to the front of the vehicle.

Castiel closed the doors just after Anna jumped into the ambulance behind him and secured the backboard.

Dean was staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes half open.

“Stay with me, Dean.” Castiel said again, as he felt the engine roar to life. “You’ve got to stay awake, alright? Do you have family? Any brothers or sisters? A wife, maybe? You’ve got to stay awake for them.”

Shit. He was quickly slipping into an unresponsive state.

Castiel pressed two fingers to his wrist again, hoping for some kind of pulse but he wasn’t even picking up thoughts from him anymore. He switched to to the artery on his neck as the ambulance started moving forward. Nothing.

Castiel could feel his own heart throbbing hard against his ribs. The whining of the machines around him and the growl of the ambulance seemed far away, almost movie-like… and if this had been a movie, Castiel would have been able to save Dean right now, easily.

But that just wasn’t how it worked in the real world.

No amount of wailing and pounding on a chest was going to make a dead person gasp and sit up like heaven itself had touched them.

For example: When you do CPR, you become the heartbeat of an unwilling heart, forcing it to work until it can decide for itself whether or not it truly wants to give up.

A person can only do so much.

Castiel ceased the compressions and leaned down, plugging the man’s nose and and sealing their lips together to give him what would hopefully be the breath of life.

The chest rose and fell, and Castiel started up the compressions again after the third fall.

“Anna please grab me the defibrillator, I think he’s in V-fib.”

Another myth that movies always tried to state as fact: If the patient had no heartbeat, and they flatlined, a good shock with a defibrillator would restart their heart.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

If Castiel was right, then you would use it for situations like now. When the heart was struggling, but not done. When it couldn’t quite figure out how to coordinate pumps with the rest of the muscles.

Then you delivered the shock, and you stopped the heart in hopes that it’d come back with a vengeance.

By the time he’d done twenty more chest compressions, Anna was back with the defibrillator and a pair of scissors. Castiel could almost have cried, glad that he hadn’t even had to specify that he’d needed some. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that Dean wasn’t too attached to this ACDC shirt, seeing as Castiel had already sliced directly down the logo.

He shoved the material aside and placed the pads on Dean’s bare chest, one pad just below an odd tattoo.

Castiel stepped back, finger on the switch.

“Clear.” he said, looking over at Anna to make sure that she’d heard him before flipping the switch and sending the shock wave.

This was where the heart made a decision.

Dean’s chest rose and fell, back arching in an enforced compulsion.

Castiel reached out to take the pulse.

No pulse, no breathing, no thoughts.

Castiel stepped back again. “Clear.” He flipped the switch.

No pulse, no breathing, no thoughts.

He glanced over at Anna, who was giving him a look he knew too well.

“Clear.” he murmured again, waiting just a moment before flipping the switch.

Rise.

Fall.

No pulse, no breathing, no thoughts.

“Clear.”

Castiel looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Anna shook her head and ran her hand down his shoulder until she was touching the skin on his arm. “Castiel.”

Her face was filled with as much regret as Castiel felt.

With the victim still not responding, it was time to call it. Get the time of death and get the body back. Even as a very new EMT, Anna knew the procedure.

Castiel’s lips thinned as he jerked his shoulder away and began chest compressions once again, stubbornly refusing to give up.

One of the things he’d learned in his line of work was that the people who felt like they didn’t deserve to be saved were usually the ones that needed it most.

“Come on,” he thought as he pressed down on his chest over and over. Or at least he was pretty sure he thought it. It might have been out loud.

“Everyone deserves to be saved.”

That was his job. If an axe murderer had been impaled on his own axe and Castiel got there in time to attempt to save him, he would. He absolutely would.

Whatever had happened in this man’s life that made him believe he deserved this didn’t matter.

Castiel stepped back again and wiped at his forehead. “One more time. Just one more.” he murmured. “Clear.”

He flipped the switch.

Rise.

And--

This time, he felt a steady pulse.

“He’s still here!” he said excitedly, and glanced over at a very shocked-looking Anna. “How much longer until we’re there?”

She held up two fingers.

Two minutes. He could hold on for two minutes.

He continued the chest compressions as Anna relayed some information to Balthazar so he could radio in an update to the hospital. The doctors there were more than likely going to have to do something drastic when they arrived.

Castiel’s arms were already protesting a minute later, but he kept on doing compressions. Any second. Any second now and they’d make it to the hospital, but every second was beginning to feel like an eternity.

The ambulance finally came to a halt and the doors immediately flew open, doctors and nurses dragging the gurney that Dean had been set on out of the vehicle and down onto the ground. Castiel quickly jumped out, latched himself to the side and continued to do compressions as he stood on the edge of the stretcher’s undercarriage.

Unfortunately, this meant that one of his hands would have to be gripping the side of the stretcher as he did one-handed chest compressions. He’d only ever studied this technique, because he’d never had to help with a situation severe enough to warrant the use of it.

He put as much pressure as he could on one arm, continuing the rhythm that had originally been set to keep the heart pumping as they wheeled him into a trauma room. Doctors and nurses immediately congregated around him, taking over the stretcher.

Castiel finally stepped away, still breathing heavily, and turned to who he really hoped was the lead physician. “Twenty-six year old male from an MVA with rollover. Initially alert and oriented, some external bleeding. Shock developed en route and CPR initiated….ten minutes ago.”

The physician nodded and Castiel watched as they began to get to work on Dean. A nurse pulled Castiel aside and had him answer a few more questions on Dean’s condition.

“Is that an intra-osseous infusion?” Castiel asked in the middle of a question, peering over the nurse’s shoulder to get a look.

He nodded. “The patient has lost too much blood. We need to get fluids into him fast.”

Castiel’s heart sank as they injected him with the needle. It was a very last resort procedure that was used for people that didn’t have much hope.

Castiel watched and held out hope for as long as he could, until the nurse finally had to usher him out of the trauma room.

Everyone deserved to be saved.

Chapter Text

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Dean was in pain.

Even though he couldn’t figure out how to move anything in his current state of semi-reality, he could tell that he was in pain. And a lot of it. An intense throbbing nudged at his closed eyelids and demanded his attention, causing him to blink. Just a little. Luckily for his vision, the room’s lights had been dimmed to a spectrum he could handle, but it was still bright enough that he could see the humming medical equipment all around him.

Ah, fuck. He’d fucked up.

Dean looked down to gauge the damage, taking in the tight wrapping around his chest. Broken ribs, probably. The headache he was feeling meant that he probably had some sort of bandage there, but when he reached up to touch it, pain shot through his right arm, causing him to gasp and hunch over.

That was when he noticed his arm.

Dread sank into his gut as he studied the white cast and the pain that came along with it. That stupid white cast probably marked the end of his career, effectively crushing any sort of optimism he had about this situation.

Leave it to the great Dean Winchester to ruin his entire career and life plan with a single, stupid decision.

He groaned and tried to sit himself up, craning his neck for a sign of a doctor or nurse or something. Anyone who could explain to him what had happened after he’d… well. He’d probably  fallen asleep at the wheel.

Snippets of memory came flashing back as he rubbed at his eyes.

Falling.

Rolling.

Pain.

Touching.

Yelling.

Blue.

“Oh, good! You’re awake.”

Dean looked up as a blonde nurse in light pink scrubs hurried into his room, looking relieved that her patient was finally awake. He swallowed dryly as she walked around his bed to reach the IV drip that was connected to his neck.

“What--” his voice croaked from disuse. “--what happened?”

The nurse smiled at him sympathetically as she looked over the drip. “You got yourself into a pretty terrible car accident. I’m not going to give you my usual lecture about drinking and driving because there wasn’t any alcohol in your blood, so we’re all kind of confused as to what actually happened.” She eyed him curiously. “Though I have a guess.”

Dean leaned his head back against his pillow and closed his eyes. “I think I fell asleep,” he murmured. “But I… I can’t remember.”

The nurse nodded. “You’re more than likely going to be a little fuzzy on what happened. You’ve got yourself a bit of a concussion.”

That would explain his headache.

“Do you know what your name is?” She asked, looking over the clipboard she’d brought in with her.

“Dean Winchester.” he answered softly.

“Do you know what state you live in?”

“Denial.”

The nurse--Jess, from what Dean read off her name badge--huffed out a laugh. “Sense of humor, check.”

The nurse continued listing off simple questions until she seemed satisfied. The only question he’d had trouble with was what he’d been doing the night he’d driven off the road. It had taken him a few moments before he remembered.

“Driving to LA. I was gonna sign a contract.”

The nurse smiled and cocked her head to the side. “Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“I play guitar.”

Dean turned his face away the moment he saw her eyes linger on the arm that was wrapped tightly in a bulky white cast.

He licked his lips, refusing to look. “How bad is it?” he asked softly.

She cleared her throat and looked over her clipboard. “It, uh… looks like it’s broken in two places, and fractured in three more.” She glanced over at him before apparently deciding that now was as good a time as any to continue with the rest of the diagnosis. “You’ve also got two cracked ribs, a total of forty-seven stitches in various places, a concussion that frankly could have been much worse and some massive internal bleeding.”

Dean let out a breath of air and shook his head slowly. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just die?” he muttered to no one in particular.

“You almost did.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

Jess tucked her pen behind her ear as she dropped her clipboard down to her side. “Die. You very nearly did. You had V-fib pulse for eleven minutes, give or take. There was apparently a very persistent EMT that had to keep your heart beating, from what I hear.”

A memory of blue eyes flashed in his mind briefly before fading.

“Alright, Dean. I’m going to go ahead and give you a shot of--”

His eyes snapped open and he quickly tucked his one working arm tight against his side protectively. “W-wait!” he felt the familiar panic claw at his chest when he realized that the nurse would have to touch him.

Jess studied him curiously. She’d already pulled out the needle and medication and had paused halfway through filling it.

“Not a fan of needles?” she asked.

That wasn’t it. Dean had absolutely no problem with needles.

“No, it’s just…” he swallowed dryly, “could you wear gloves?

She blinked before nodding with a small smile. “Of course.” The needle was gently set back on the tray. “I’ll be right back, okay Dean?”

Dean let out a breath of air as she left the room and immediately gritted his teeth in frustration at himself.

Weak.

Pathetic.

If his dad could see him now.

Even with those words echoing in his mind and pounding down his ego, he still couldn’t make himself do it. Wearing his leather gloves in public was already a dead giveaway, but even without them and with the scene he’d just made, that nurse probably had already guessed. He was going to be known in this hospital as that weird guy that couldn’t stand to be touched.

Again.

Jess returned a few minutes later with her hands now covered in a thin layer of latex. She smiled and twirled her hands in the air a few times to show off the gloves. “Better?” She asked.

Dean just turned his head away and stuck out his arm. There was a moment of cold as he felt her wipe down a small area his shoulder. He winced at the press of fingers against his skin, but there was no voice in his head. No white noise. No connection. The gloves prevented that.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“No problem,” Jess smiled, and rolled the rubber gloves off her hands before picking up the clipboard that she’d set on his bedside table. “Alright, you’re probably still feeling the effects of the morphine, but as soon as you feel it start to wear off, let me know. We’ve already contacted your emergency contact--”

“Fuck, you told Sam?”

She raised an eyebrow and flipped up the first page. “Sam Winchester? Yes. We’ve told him that his brother was almost killed in a car accident after he drove off a cliff. It says here that he’s on his way from Kansas.”

Dean groaned. The last thing he needed was for Sam to come see him broken and bleeding after he’d just figured out how to get his shit together. The plan was for him to come to Cali under very different circumstances.

“I’ll come back to check on you in about an hour. You’re stable now, so try and sleep.”

Dean had already shut his eyes in an attempt to block everything out.

But he could still hear screaming.

* * *

The next time Dean woke up, Sam was sitting in the chair next to him.

Before he even opened his eyes, he could smell that forever-lingering scent of animal that his brother always carried with him; whether it was dog, cat, or boa constrictor, he didn’t know. But working at that animal clinic sure did have a downside.

“You’re supposed to be in Kansas.” he managed to croak out, peeking one eye open to glare at his brother.

Sam whipped his head back from where he had been gazing out of the one window Dean’s room had.

“Dean!”

He stood up and smiled down at him, a lot more relief on his face than Dean cared to think about. His brother had dark circles under his eyes, which meant that he had more than likely been up longer than he should have been - and all because of him.

“Heya, Sammy. Is this what I have to do to get you out here now?” he said, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted for as long as possible.

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “You know, I’d really appreciate it if you called me next time you wanted to see me, instead of a hospital staff. I’ll make the trip either way.”

Dean made a small grunting noise as he shifted in his bed. “Yeah, but this way was so much fun.” he murmured, his words practically dripping in sarcasm. He glared as Sam reached forward to help him, effectively stopping the hand in its tracks before it touched him.

“Sorry,” Sam murmured, slowly drawing his hand back. “I--”

“Whatever,” Dean interrupted, not wanting this to get blown up into some big thing again. "How's Bones?"

Sam hesitantly sat back down, rolling with the abrupt change in subject.

"Old. He's getting really old. He keeps bumping into walls and is kind of hobbling everywhere." He shrugged his shoulders. "Poor guy."

Dean cracked a small smile. "I'm amazed that dog keeps sticking with you."

“Yeah well, he’s a lot like you. Just feed him and he’ll stay.” Sam chuckled. “So, uh,” he tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, “What happened?”

“I fucked up.” Dean answered bluntly. That was a nice summary of most of his life, in all actuality. Fucking up and having to start over again. His gaze dropped to the newly-shattered arm.

Sam’s face fell. “You weren’t… drunk, were you? Because--”

“God Sam, NO.” Dean rubbed at his eyes with his one good arm, a little hurt that Sam would think he was that stupid. Dean didn’t blame him, though. There was a time when… yeah. It might have happened.

“I was just tired. Pushed myself too far and just wasn’t paying attention.”

His brother nodded slowly. “Well I’m just glad you’re okay, Dean. You look like shit.”

“And I feel so much worse.” He started coughing loudly, wincing when the movement caused his ribs to protest in pain.

Sam stood quickly. “I’ll go get Jess.”

Jess? Who was-- the nurse?

“I don’t need a nurse, Sam. ‘M fine.”

“I think I’ll get her just in case.”

Dean squinted his eyes suspiciously at his brother when a light blush tinted his features.

“Unbelievable,” he breathed.

“What?” Sam asked, with more defensiveness to his tone than was necessary.

“Here I am, on my deathbed--”

“Dean, you’re not dy--”

“--on my deathbed, and my little brother is trying to get lucky with my nurse.”

The pink hue to Sam’s face grew progressively darker.

“I’m not…” he sputtered, “I’m just saying hello and stuff. She’s nice.”

Dean rolled his eyes and waved his good hand. “Whatever. Go use your dying brother for your own personal gain.”

“You’re not--” Sam scowled when Dean tossed a grin at him, and left the room with in a huff.

At least something good might come out of this shitty situation. But definitely not for Dean.

No, his life was pretty much over now. All of the good things that had recently fallen into place had just been decimated in a few, tired seconds.

He was out of a job.

Out of a passion.

Out of the reason he stayed sane.

Too bad he hadn’t just--

“Everyone deserves to be saved.”

Dean jolted, looking around to see who’s touched him, but there wasn’t even anyone in the room. He could have sworn…

Maybe his concussion was worse than he thought.

“You okay?”

Dean looked over just as Sam walked into the room, closely followed by Jess. He took the moment to deflect to a scoff.

“I rolled down a cliff, Sam. A cliff.”

“I was told that it was barely a cliff.”

Jess was smirking as she pulled on another rubber glove. Wonderful. Another shot.

“Yes, you did,” she said to Dean. “And I’m going to give you some more pain medication because of that wonderful incident.”

Dean didn’t flinch this time when he felt the press of gloved fingers. A few moments after she pulled away, he felt himself growing drowsy again.

“Hey, Jess?” he murmured, his eyelids growing heavy.

“Yeah?”

“Who was it?”

He watched her tilt her head in confusion. “Who was what, hun?”

Dean swallowed as he struggled not to give into the call of sleep. “The EMT. The one that… you know… ”

Jess frowned sadly and shrugged her shoulders just before he shut his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Castiel looked up in annoyance when a hand was waved directly in front of his face. “What?”

Balthazar pouted and turned his eyes back to the road as he drove. At this angle only half of his mouth was visible for Castiel to read. It made following the conversation difficult, but not impossible.

The upside to being friends with Balthazar was that, more often than not, he would treat Castiel as he would everyone else - which, generally, Castiel appreciated quite a lot. The downside was that he was not everyone else, which tended to strain his patience at times.

“I was talking to you.” he read off his friend’s lips.

Castiel sighed. “This is your daily reminder that I am, in fact, deaf.”

Balthazar grinned wryly and took his hands off the wheel to briefly sign something vulgar that he’d undoubtedly looked up online.

“Lovely,” Castiel muttered.

Balthazar’s smile faded as he raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you alright? You’ve been… off for the past few days. You’ve lost your sparkle.”

“I’m fine.” Castel was tempted to turn his back and gaze out of the window, but he could tell that the conversation wasn’t over yet and he was going to end up needing to read Balthazar’s lips.

“Are you? Because your mind’s been somewhere else recently.”

Castiel frowned. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About?”

He shrugged. “Do you… do you ever get curious?”

“Oh, all the time. But curiosity killed the hat.”

Whoops. Cat. He must have said ‘Cat’.

Castiel ran a frustrated hand through his hair.  “Balthazar… we do this day in and day out. There’s the little girl who had that terrible asthma attack. The woman who had a stroke.  Small incidents like that. But then there’s the man that was in that car accident. Don’t you want to know if what we did made a difference?”

Balthazar remained silent for a moment before finally opening his mouth to speak again.

“I think I’d rather not know.”

Castiel blinked, not sure if he’d read that correctly. “Really?”

He nodded. “I do what I can and I do my best. In extreme cases like that… I think I’m better off wondering, and knowing I did everything I could.”

Castiel hummed softly, enjoying the soft vibrations that it caused along his throat. He looked back up at the touch on his forearm, immediately embracing the comforting feeling of having a mind so close to his.

The very first time the he and Balthazar had shared thoughts, it had also been the first time he’d been exposed to a different accent.

Now he’d grown so accustomed to it, he was amazed that his own thoughts hadn’t become increasingly more British.

“Is this about that roll-over incident? You know, therapy is always encouraged after something like this.”

Castiel relaxed into the touch, appreciating the comfort it gave him.

“I know. I may go. But….don’t you want to know if he made it?”

Castiel ran his hand along the window of the car to feel the vibrations that came with driving.

“I suppose so.” Balthazar said with a shrug. “But you do know the chances aren’t good, don’t you?”

Castiel nodded. If the intra-osseous infusion had worked, it would have been a miracle. Then again, it was designed to be a miracle.

“I’d still like to know,” Castiel murmured, pulling away from the contact.

“Good luck with that,” Balthazar said, taking a much sharper right turn than was necessary.

***

Three days after his conversation with Balthazar and the man in the rollover incident was still on his mind. Not all the time, but in the background. He made sure to shove those thoughts aside when it came to his work, but in his free time he kept wondering.

They received a call about a boy that had fallen out of a tree about a mile away, and while he wasn’t in any danger, his wrist had snapped on impact and the family had called an ambulance to rush him to the hospital.

Castiel spent the ride with one hand on the boy’s--Jesse, as he’d soon found out-- upper arm, feeding him happy thoughts and words of encouragement as he sniffled. Most of the heavy crying had happened before Castiel had arrived, and Jesse’s wrist should have been more or less numb now.

“Are they gonna have to cut it off?”

Castiel held back a chuckle and shook his head.

“No. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to keep it. You’re going to get a colorful cast and you can have all of your friends draw on it.”

Jesse nodded as a few more tears slipped down his face.

Castiel smiled encouragingly as they pulled up to the hospital, and while a gurney ride wasn’t really needed for transporting a patient with a broken arm, Jesse’s thoughts had let slip that he’d really wanted one.

He and Balthazar passed him off to the doctors with a small wave.

Castiel looked over as his friend stretched his arms above his head. “Lunch break?” he suggested, making sure Castiel was looking at him before he spoke. “Wanna hit up that diner on the corner?”

Castiel grimaced and shook his head. As great as the food was, all of the employees would attempt to speak to him extra loudly and slowly as if it would somehow help, and he wasn’t in the mood to feel patronised.

“You can go. I’m going to pick up something from one of the hospital vending machines.”

Balthazar shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself. I’ll meet you back here in an hour?”

Castiel nodded and waved once as a goodbye. His friendship with Balthazar would be greatly simplified if his friend bothered to learn just a little bit of sign that didn’t include crude language.

It was fine, though. He was used to being the adaptor and not the adaptee.

Castiel yawned as he walked down the hallway, adjusting his uniform as he tried to decide what cheap, packaged food he was going to choose for lunch.

Luckily, he had a few days off coming up. He’d had a long few nights recently.

He pulled out a few crumpled bills from his pocket as he neared the vending machine and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand grab onto his shoulder. Whipping around, he relaxed when a young nurse held up her hand apologetically.

“Sorry!” he read off her lips, “I tried calling you and you must not have heard me!”

Understatement.

He smiled awkwardly and gestured at his ears. “Sorry,” he murmured, hating himself every time he had to apologize for his disability. “I’m deaf. I didn’t hear you.”

The nurse blinked once. “Oh. Sorry. Did you want to…” She held out her hand questioningly.

Castiel smiled and laid his hand on top of hers, already enjoying the bubbly presence filling his mind through the touch.

“Hi! I’m really sorry about bugging you but I saw that you’re a paramedic… “ she tilted her head questioningly. “Right?”

“I am.” he assured, already guessing that the lack of hearing was what was causing her to doubt that original assumption.

The nurse smiled widely. “Perfect. I’m trying to do a favor for one of my patients. Do you by chance know which paramedic helped a Dean Winchester? Male. Mid-twenties. His car rolled off the road about a week ago. He’s been asking about the paramedic that saved him.”

Castiel choked.

It was as if fate had personally taken the wheel and had opened the heavens to shine on this exact moment.

“He’s alive??”

The nurse nodded excitedly, obviously sensing that Castiel knew him.

“Yes! Barely, from what I understand. He had some severe internal bleeding but he’s stabilized. They’re moving him out of the ICU in a few days. Do you know him?”

“I do. My team and I were the ones on the scene of the accident.”

The nurse took her hand off of his for a brief moment to do a gleeful dance for a few moments as Castiel watched in amusement. Dean Winchester had been asking for him?

When she was finished, she eagerly placed her hand on top of his to bring the connection back. “Oh my god. I didn’t actually expect to find you. Are you busy right now? He really wants to talk to whoever saved his life.”

Castiel hesitated.

Memories of mind-blocks and getting mentally screamed at came back to him. Even as he’d tried to save his life, Dean had made it pretty obvious that he did not approve of what Castiel had been doing.

“What does he want to talk to me for?”

“Uh, I don’t know. He hasn’t said. I assume to thank you, right? You saved his life.”

Castiel had his doubts, but here he was staring fate in the face after spending days hoping that something like this would happen.

Dean was alive.

“Alright. I’ll go see him.”

The nurse squeezed his hand tightly  and Castiel felt joy and relief flood through their connection, until she stopped and eyed him thoughtfully.

“Oh. I forgot. Dean… he--” she paused as if she were about to say something vulgar. “--he doesn’t want anyone touching him.”

Ah, there it was. So it wasn’t just him, then.

“Yes, I recall. I had a very difficult time getting him to cooperate with me the night of his accident.”

“Isn’t that weird? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who can’t stand the connection before.”

It was true. It was a common way for people to communicate with each other. Touching was fast and efficient, and most people didn’t have an issue with it. Refusing friendly connection was….odd, to say the least.

Especially for someone like Castiel, who used it as a primary means of communication most of the time - seeing as most people didn’t know sign language, and reading lips could get tricky.

The comfort between connections was also a plus for him, and while he didn't understand hating it, he had no room to judge.

“It is what it is.”

“Yeah but… is that going to be an issue for you?”

Castiel held back the urge to sigh. “I’m quite proficient at reading lips. I should be fine, but thank you for your concern.”

“Perfect! Do you have a few minutes?”

He looked over at the vending machine and back down to his handful of crumpled bills before shoving them back into his pocket.

“I do.”

***

Jess, as Castiel had found out was the name of the nurse, gave him a brief update on Dean’s condition as she led them to the correct room. He was surprisingly pleased that he’d guessed the injuries correctly, especially the internal bleeding assumption, and had treated him for it. According to Jess, had he received the infusion any later, it probably would have been too late.

She led them to a halt outside of room 401 and gestured inside.

“I’ll make sure you guys have a few minutes, alright?”

He nodded and peeked inside the room.

Inside was a single bed with a chair pulled up next it, most likely for whatever visitor Dean had. On the bed was a familiar (though slightly less bloody) face framed with sandy hair and freckles.

He still looked like he’d rolled down a hill, what with his cast and stitches on various parts of his face and arms, but at least now it looked like he might survive the night.

So this was Dean Winchester.

This was the man he’d saved.

Castiel was so busy staring and being lost in thought that he missed the first time Dean’s lips moved.

“I’m sorry?” he said, making sure that he was watching Dean’s lips for when he repeated himself.

“I said, keep on walking, buddy. This ain’t a side show.”

Castiel frowned and shook his head. “Apologies. I thought Jess had told you. My name is Castiel. I….I was part of the team that pulled you from your car and brought you to the hospital.”

He nearly smiled when Dean’s eyes widened comically and he shifted to sit up a little straighter. “You’re the guy that saved my life?”

Castiel coughed, suddenly realizing how very different those lips were to others that he’d studied before.

“It was a team effort, but technically yes. Jess informed me that you’d been asking to talk to me.”

Dean’s mouth opened, and then shut. Castiel squinted a little, fairly sure that no sound had actually come out - but he wasn’t entirely sure.

“So… what would you like to talk about?”

Dean pressed his lips together as Castiel continued to wait for him to say something.

“I was a dick to you.”

He blinked. “You were under stress.”

“You were saving my life and I was a complete dick to you. I remember that.”

“Out of curiosity,” Castiel asked hesitantly, “how much do you remember?”

Dean took a moment to close his eyes. “Uh, not much. Being a dick. Being scared. Um, bl--” he swallowed. “Blue. Anyway I guess I just wanted to--”

That was the moment that Dean turned his head to gaze out of the window and Castiel could no longer read his lips.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Dean, but could you repeat that and… look at me when you do?”

And there it was.

The look.

The one where people suddenly wonder if he’s crazy.

“I’m sorry,” he said for the third time that day, “I don’t mean to make strange requests, but I’m actually deaf and I’m trying to read your lips.”

Dean’s odd look turned to one of confusion and vague disbelief.

“You’re deaf?”

Castiel quirked his lips. “Last I heard.”

That was the first time Castiel saw Dean Winchester laugh.

It was unlike any other laugh he’d ever seen. He was a man that would put his whole being into his laughter, throwing his head back while his chest heaved. Castiel had a feeling that it was one of the few times that this man would let so much emotion show on his face. It wasn’t often that Castiel wished he knew what something sounded like, content with his own understanding of reality, but this was one of those rarities.

Dean’s mirth quickly turned to one of pain as he brought a hand up to his side. Right. Laughter was probably not the best medicine for someone who most likely had a few pairs of broken or cracked ribs.

“Sorry, “Dean managed, “I don’t know if I should have laughed at that or not.”

Castiel smiled wryly. “I appreciate it. It’s nice to be reminded that I’m funny every once in awhile.”

Dean’s smile faded slightly as he studied the man standing semi-awkwardly in front of him. “So what’s it like to be deaf and an EMT?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows at the forwardness of the question. Not that he minded. It was a nice change from the usual pace of tiptoeing around these topics.

“Difficult,” he said truthfully. “It’s hard to keep up at times, and I feel like I constantly have to excel beyond the norm in order for people to trust me.”

“You seem to do alright, though. You sure saved my sorry ass.”

Castiel frowned a little at that. “Barely. And to be fair, that was the first time my… difference has inhibited me from doing my job properly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I generally touch people to get information from them quicker.”

He watched as awkward comprehension dawned on Dean’s face.

“Oh. And… right.”

“Apologies, by the way,” he murmured. “If I violated you in any way. I didn’t realize that you didn’t--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean interrupted gruffly. “It’s stupid.”

Castiel took a step forward and gestured at the chair, silently asking for permission, only sitting down when Dean nodded at him.

“It’s not stupid. I can’t say that I understand why, but I’m sure that your fear is well-founded.”

Castiel caught a scoff on Dean’s face. “It’s not a fear, it’s just a weird… thing.”

What he’d felt in their brief connection in the car had most definitely been fear, but Castiel wasn’t going to push it. He still wasn’t entirely sure what the reason for being asked to visit was yet, but Dean was interesting. He was interesting to study. Interesting to learn about. Interesting to look at.

“I hear that they’re going to be moving you from the ICU real soon.” he said conversationally.

Dean harrumphed and lifted his shoulders. “Apparently.”

“Be excited. That means you’re doing a lot better.”

Castiel noted the eyeroll that Dean seemed to have mastered.

“I’m not, though. Sure, I lived. Whoopee.” (Castiel was only fairly sure he said ‘Whoopee’.) “But my life is over anyway. I just fucked up my career in one stupid night.”

“Athlete?” he asked, looking over Dean’s body quickly and noting that he easily had the body of a football player, or possibly a gymnast of some sort.

Dean smirked. “Guitarist.”

“Ah.”

His eyes lingered on the bulky cast that lay awkwardly at his side. Sure, his arm may take a while to heal, but that didn’t mean a career was over.

Castiel looked down at his watch and stood back up. “Your life’s not over, Dean. They’ve already started talking about Physical Therapy, correct?”

He nodded.

“I’ll recommend you to a fantastic therapist. Best I’ve ever seen. Might even be able to help you out with other things as well.”

Dean squinted suspiciously. “What other things?”

“Oh, just in general. Charlie is an amazing conversationalist. Especially in sign language.” He smiled reminiscently. Charlie was one of his only friends that had gone out of her way to learn his preferred means of communication, and she absolutely loved how animated you could make your face to get your point across.

Dean looked up at him as if he was studying a very hard puzzle. “Do you like ASL, then? Over touching or lip reading?”

“Touch is always nice because then I get to hear what people’s voices sound like, but signing will always be the best, seeing as I can’t always touch people.” Especially those that don’t want to be touched.

“Oh. Okay.”

Castiel smiled and waved a little. “I have to get going, now. My shift starts up again soon, but it was nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Hey, quick question.”

Castiel paused.

“How do you say “Thank you” in sign language?”

Castiel brought his hand up to his lips and touched it with his fingers before gesturing forwards toward the man on the bed.

Dean mimicked the gesture with a smile on his face. “Thank you, Castiel.”

It was touching, even though it was just a single gesture that Dean had asked about. Somehow, it meant a lot.

He brought his hand up to his mouth again and curved it inwards as he brought it down. “You’re welcome.” he murmured gratefully, and decided then that Dean Winchester was someone he wouldn’t mind having in his life.

Chapter Text

Castiel was absolutely nothing like Dean had expected.

Of all of the possible types of people that Dean had imagined his savior to be, ‘Deaf Sex God’ hadn’t even crossed his mind for some inexplicable reason.

Sam walked in with a bag of chips about thirty seconds after Castiel had left with a small wave and a vague comment about how he’d try to stop by again before they moved him out of the ICU.

He looked over at Dean with a confused look on his face.

“Who was that?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and sitting back down in the chair next to the bed.

Dean continued to stare out the door as Sam popped open the bag. “Just the guy that saved my life.”

Sam dropped a chip.

“What, really?” his head whipped back around to stare past the door. “Can I go like… hug him? Or kiss him?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’d probably scare the crap out of him, sasquatch. Go hug someone your own size.”

“Worth it.” Sam murmured, popping a chip into his mouth. “So you finally found the guy, huh? And all it took was a few days of bugging Jess about it?”

Dean shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I was desperate to find him or anything. I was just curious and wanted to apologize for being a dick while he was just doing his job. And I didn’t ‘bug’ her. I just mentioned it. Once or twice.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“How’d it go?”

How did it go? Dean wasn’t sure. As far as he could tell it went alright. They’d talked and no one had yelled at each other which was generally a positive thing in his book. Castiel seemed like a plenty nice guy and it was really damn impressive that he was deaf and an EMT.

The guy must be really damn good at his job for him to keep doing what he’s doing.

No offense to him, of course.

“Good, I guess. He’s a cool guy.”

Sam smirked. “He must be if he put up with you earlier and came back to talk to you. That, like, never happens. Maybe Jess bribed him.”

“Oh ha ha ha. If I weren’t on my deathbed--”

“You’re not on your deathbed.”

“On my deathbed, Sam!”

***

Nightmares plagued Dean that night for the first time during his stay at the hospital.

Waking up once an hour was definitely not how he’d wanted to make an even more miserable trip out of an already miserable stay.

After a particularly vivid terror where he could still feel the tight grip around his wrist after he’d woken, he’d had enough and needed some sort of distraction or he was going to have a very unflattering breakdown soon.

Sam had finally managed to get his phone back to him that day and he’d already replied to the necessary emails, explaining his situation and that he was sorry, but his life was a little fucked up right now.

Of course that wouldn’t change anything with the record company. He was screwed in that department.

He exited out of his emails and opened up his browser, his fingers hovering over the tiny keyboard.

‘ASL signs’, he typed in, ‘for beginners’.

***

Dean managed to doze off at sometime around seven in the morning, earning him a grand total of three hours of sleep that night.

Sam came in around eleven, stretching his arms above his head and flopping down in the chair next to the bed.

“Why are you still here, huh?” Dean asked once he’d settled down. “I mean I appreciate the visit and all, but you’ve got a clinic to run, right?”

Sam shook his head like it wasn’t that big of a deal. ‘Amy can run things for a few days until I get back. She’d been dying for a chance to prove she can do it anyway. It was a good excuse.”

“Well, I’m glad my near-death experience helped out your protégé. Hey, by the way, you should text Jess and tell her I’m hungry.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, she can’t check her phone while she’s work--”

“So you do have her number!”

He’d been wondering how long it was going to take Sam to get on that, seeing as he and Jess would spend the entire time she was in his room chatting about anything at all.

It was worth the outburst to see Sam’s face turn a bright red as he ducked it out of the way.

“I fucking knew it! I hope you have a best man’s wheelchair at your wedding for me for when you recall how you used your own brother’s accident to get it on with a nurse. I hope you’re happy, Samantha. I mean I approve and everything, but when--”

Dean’s obtuse finger pointing came to a stop when he looked up to see the Castiel the EMT standing in the doorway with two brown paper sacks held together in one hand and a vaguely concerned look on his face.

Sam looked over when he saw that Dean was staring, and stared himself for a moment before he seemed to figure out who he was looking at.

“I’m sorry,’ Castiel said carefully, looking between the two brothers. “If this is a bad time I can come back later.”

The scent of freshly-made burgers had already made its way into Dean’s headspace and after a week of eating cheap hospital food and the vending machine snacks that he could sometimes talk Sam into getting for him, it smelled absolutely heavenly.

“Oh, hell no. If that’s for me then you’re allowed to stay forever.”

A small smile crept across Castiel’s face as he apparently processed the words. How long did it usually take him to read lips? He seemed pretty good at it so far, like it was an immediate response.

Dean watched him as he looked around and -- oh, shit. There wasn’t another chair. The only one they had was the one that Sam was--

“Right, well,” Sam murmured, standing up from his seat. “I think I’m gonna follow in your footsteps and grab something to eat.” He smiled as he neared Castiel and held out a hand. “Thank you, by the way. As Dean’s brother, I know he’s a pain, but… thanks for not giving up.”

Dean was not expecting the pang of jealousy that shot through him when they shook hands, obviously sharing a few more words through the connection.  

Something as simple as a handshake was something that he could never do.

Castiel tilted his head and nodded before Sam patted him on the back and walked out the door, sparing one last glance for Dean.

Yeah, five bucks said Sam was going to see if he could talk Jess into taking a lunch break with him.

After Castiel had been standing awkwardly in the doorway for way too long, Dean gestured to the chair Sam had just vacated with his good hand. “Well? Make yourself at home, Cas.”

The EMT paused halfway on his way to the chair and stared at Dean. “Did you just call me ‘Cas’ or ‘Cat’?”

“Cas.” Dean smiled. “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on,” he added excitedly, holding up his left hand.

He curved his hand into a “C” shape before closing it into a fist, then moving his thumb to the front of his closed hand.

“Was that right?”

The smile that lit up Castiel’s face was the biggest that he’s seen on him so far.

“Yes that was right.” Castiel lifted up his hand to repeat it back to him. “‘C-A-S.’ That’s my nickname.” He continued to smile as he set one of the brown paper bags in front of Dean and opened his own. “I hope you don’t mind that I guessed what you might like. I figured you’ve more than likely grown tired of hospital food by now. You deserve a break from Jello.”

Dean dug around the bag with his left hand, until he brought out what he could smell was a wrapped burger. “Oh, fuck yeah.” he murmured, unwrapping it as fast as he could with one hand, which wasn’t nearly as fast as he would’ve liked.

Castiel, meanwhile, was laying napkins across his lap  and slowly unfolding the wrapping like he was the Queen of England or something.

“So tell me about yourself, Cas,” Dean said with a mouth full of burger. God, it was good. He coughed a little and forced himself to swallow when Cas just squinted at him. Oh right. Shit. Lip reading. He probably couldn’t read anything off someone with a mouth full of food. This was going to take some getting used to. “So tell me about yourself.” he repeated after he’d swallowed.

Castiel raised an eyebrow and unwrapped the last of his burger. “Hello. My name is Castiel. I work as an Emergency Medical Technician and I’m deaf.”

Dean was quickly realizing that this guy had one of the dryest senses of humor known to mankind.

“No shit, but we’ve already been over that. I figure if you’re going to be bringing me food and stuff, you shouldn’t be a stranger. Plus I’ve been stuck here for over a week and you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me so far. Tell me three facts about yourself.”

Castiel took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Alright. But only if you do the same afterwards.”

“Deal.”

He swallowed and paused for a moment, obviously thinking of something to say. “Let’s see. I’m an only child. I love television, and I have a cat.”

Dean nodded as he absorbed that information. It didn’t seem too intrusive of information that he’d have to share.

“Okay. I love pie. I like classic cars, and I’m a guitarist.”

Or at least he used to be, as of a week ago.

Castiel smiled and took another bite out of his food. “I’ve always wanted to know what guitar vibrations feel like. I’ve felt piano and violin, but not a guitar yet. ”

“Does that… work? Can you hear the music?”

He shook his head. “Not the same way you can, I assume. It can paint a picture in my head of a possibility, but music isn’t something that I can hear like you can. I enjoy it nonetheless.”

It was weird. Of course, he’d heard of Beethoven before, who composed who knows how many songs, and did it all while deaf. Apparently they ended up sounding pretty great, so maybe it wasn’t that different.

“Well I’d volunteer to show you… but I don’t think I’m gonna be playing for a while. He looked down at his casted arm again. He didn’t even feel sad about it anymore. All of his sadness had numbed him down. Now he just wanted out of this hospital so he could move on.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to play again soon. Especially if you go to Charlie.”

“You think he’s real hot shit, don’t you?”

Castiel looked like he was holding back a smile. “Yes I do. I guarantee you will, too.”

He shrugged his shoulders doubtfully, but decided it probably wasn’t the greatest idea to talk badly about someone he’d A.) never met and B.) been told was a friend of the guy who’d saved his life.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what branch of the military did you serve in?”

Dean paused his chewing to give him a funny look. “Military? I’m not in the military.”

“Oh, I thought…”Castiel trailed off as he stared at Dean thoughtfully.

“I mean I know I absolutely reek macho studly buff dude, but that doesn’t mean that I’m military,” he clarified. “Where’d you get that idea?”

Castiel took a few moments and tilted his head to the side. “I’ve never seen someone non-military be able to put up a mental block that strongly before."

Oh shit. Had he done that? He had absolutely no recollection of doing that.

“I, uh… “he cleared his throat. “I learned it from my dad," he muttered, purposefully biting into his burger.

“Really?” he asked curiously, “Your father taught you how to--”

“I never said he taught me. I said I learned it from him.”

He pointedly didn’t watch to see the look on Castiel’s face as he tried to figure that one out.

“Oh.”

It was a soft sound, like Cas hadn’t even realized he’d said it out loud - and, well, knowing Cas, that was an entirely possible scenario.

“He was in the Marines. After my mom died he got big into government conspiracies and all that shit. It was a wild ride.”

Dean watched as Castiel wiped his fingers on his pants and tried to hold back a yawn.

“You look tired.” he said, just now noticing the heavy dark circles under the EMT’s eyes.

Castiel shrugged.

“No, really--what’s up?”

Castiel shifted a little. “I just got off of a twenty-four hour shift. But I’m fine.”

“You mean you’ve been up for twenty-four hours? Dude! Why are you even here?”

Castiel rubbed at his eyes before answering. “Because I told you that I’d come back before they moved you.”

Well… yeah. He had. Technically. But Dean hadn’t actually thought that was going to happen, and c’mon. Everyone would understand if you couldn’t follow through because your work had made you stay up all night. That just went without saying.

“Look. Cas. You should sleep. It means a lot that you’d come back and I appreciate it, but dude. Just visit after they’ve moved me.”

Castiel frowned. “But I won’t be able to find out where you’ve been moved to. They only allow family members to have access to that information.”

“Here,” Dean reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his phone. It was an awkward reach with his left hand, but he eventually grabbed it and tossed it over to him.

Cas caught it with a surprised look. “Just put your number in that and I’ll text you once I figure out my new room number.”

“You want my number?”

Dean nodded and smiled. “Not happen to you much?”

He wasn’t sure what response he’d been expecting to that, but it definitely wasn’t Castiel turning bright red and fidgeting as he stared down at the phone. He quickly typed in the number and held the phone back to him.

Normally, Dean would have just grabbed it, but he wasn’t wearing his usual gloves for “just-in-case” scenarios.

“Just uh, go ahead and toss it to me.” he murmured.

The phone was lightly tossed without so much as a weird look, which was actually a really nice change.

“Thanks.”

Castiel nodded as he tried to cover up a yawn with his hand when Dean looked back up.

“Cas,” he waved a hand to get his attention so that he’d be able to read his lips. “You really can go home. Thank you for bringing my food and stuff, on top of saving my life, but go get some sleep. I’ll text you.”

What he could only assume was a grateful smile played on his lips. “Thank you. I’ll do that.” Castiel stood up and took a deep breath as he turned back around and walked directly into the doorframe.

It took all of Dean’s strength of will not to laugh.

“I… do need sleep.” Castiel murmured, smiling awkwardly as he finally waved and walked out the room correctly.

Dean couldn’t remember a time that he’d been so excited to text someone.

Chapter Text

Room 511, Building C.

Castiel smiled down at the text he’d just received from an unknown number. Today must have been the day that the hospital finally moved Dean out of the ICU. It was good to hear that they thought he was well enough for that kind of mobility.

After Castiel had embarrassingly walked into a door frame with a witness in the room, he’d carefully driven home to his apartment and slept for thirteen hours.

He’d watched a few episodes of the subtitled version of Daredevil, and had given his cat, Hannah, the much-needed attention that she deserved, but rarely got.

And then he’d received that text from Dean, and his smile dropped when the phone in his hand vibrated again.

And continued to to vibrate.

Dean was calling him.

Dean Winchester had picked up the phone, had actually dialed his number, and had pressed ‘Call’.

Castiel had to force himself not to laugh as he answered the call.

“Hello, Dean. Before you say anything, I would like to remind you that I am deaf.”

When he looked back at his phone the line had been disconnected, and a flurry of texts were already coming through.

OH MY GOD.

I AM SO SORRY

I’m an idiot.

That was worse than walking into a door.

Just a little, but it’s fine.

I think I’ll just… never leave this room again.

I’d just come visit you.

Damn. You’re right.

Castiel gently stroked his cat as she suddenly demanded his attention again. Whenever he made a new friend, there was always the awkward transition period where they had to be reminded that he was, in fact, deaf.

It was bound to happen.

So what was it you wanted?

Oh nothing. Just wanted to make sure you got the text.

I did.

Well good.

I’ll see you soon, Dean.

***

“I warn you, my other senses have become much stronger because of my lack of hearing and I’m now amazingly perceptive when it comes to detecting lies.”

He studied Dean intently as the other man raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Prove it. “

Castiel shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“I call your obvious bluff and raise you…” he counted carefully, “… five peanuts.”

Dean puckered his lips and squinted at Castiel before tossing in his own five peanuts onto the napkin.

“What do you have?”

Castiel flipped his cards over. “High card, Jack.”

Dean threw his head back with another laugh that Castiel was quickly growing addicted to, even though he couldn’t hear a thing.

“You called a bluff with a Jack?”

Castiel shrugged. “What do you have, then?”

Dean flipped his cards, revealing a full house.

“Cas, I hate to tell you this, but you really suck at poker.”

“I’ve been informed of that on more than one occasion by more than one person.”

He was entirely certain that Balthazar would quickly recruit Dean to a club entirely devoted to the ‘Cas sucks at poker’ cause if he ever found out about this. This afternoon had been easy. Castiel didn’t have a shift to get to until three, and had decided to drop by Dean’s room before heading out to work. The game of cards had been his own idea, figuring that it might give Dean an ego boost he needed.

“Hey, can I ask you a personal question?”

Castiel watched as Dean glanced away, which meant that he knew exactly what it was Dean was going to ask about. It’s what everyone wanted to know about him.

“Of course. If I can ask you a personal question as well.”

He smiled as Dean seemed to deliberate within himself, wondering if his curiosity was going to win over his defensiveness.

“Fine,” he said, “But mine’s a two-parter.”

Castiel nodded in agreement, figuring he probably wasn’t going to be able to get much out of Dean this soon anyway.

“Okay.” Dean took a few of the peanuts that he’d fairly won from off of the napkin and popped a few in his mouth. “Have you always been deaf, or did it happen on the job?”

“I was born deaf. My job is not usually that exciting.”

“Cool. Okay then. Uh, how’d you become an EMT if you’re deaf?”

Castiel took a long breath. “Not easily. A lot of hard work was involved. I’ve wanted to help people my entire life, but there were not a lot of people who wanted to train a deaf man to work in a field like this. Or hire one, for the record.”

“I can imagine.”

Castiel nodded solemnly, distracting himself by tossing one of the playing cards in between his hands. “I had to prove that I could do the same things anyone else could. I still do, constantly. I don’t know if I would have even been hired at all if not for my partner, Balthazar. "

Dean paused, squinting a little at him. “Your partner?”

Castiel frowned, then quickly realized what Dean must have thought he meant. “Oh no, we’re partners on the job. On the same team. We are not in a romantic relationship, if I wasn’t clear enough.”

Dean chuckled. “Got it. So what makes you think he’s the reason you got a job?”

“He vouched for me. We’d gone to school together and he knew that I was more than capable of doing the job. I only hope I never become a burden, because then that comes crashing down on his head.”

In fact, it was one of Castiel’s biggest fears. If he ever messed up to the point where it brought attention to his difference, there might be a huge uproar that got both him and Balthazar fired in the aftermath. He prayed it would never happen.

“I mean you seem pretty great to me. If you can save my stubborn ass, I’m pretty sure you can do anything. Fuck what anyone else thinks, right?”

Castiel smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the hope. I’m doing well so far, I think. No terrible mishaps.”

“So… being disabled doesn’t affect your work much?”

Oh.

Castiel’s lips thinned a little as he tried to think of a good way to respond to the question without getting angry. Dean probably hadn’t meant anything by it, and was simply curious.

“Well, Dean, I don’t view myself as disabled.” He looked down, intertwining his own fingers together.“I just experience life a little differently than you do.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded, looking a little lost in thought. “Huh.” Or at least that was the sound Castiel assumed he made, he wasn’t completely sure.

Castiel cleared his throat and looked at his watch. “Thank you for the game, but I do actually have to get back to work now.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Hey, you didn’t ask me any questions. Did you forget?”

Castiel shook his head. “I’ll think about them, and make sure that we have a next time to ask them.”

Dean licked his lips and paused, putting two fingers just below his eyes and turning them into an “L” as he gestured forward with one hand.

Castiel paused, almost missing the fact that Dean had just used sign language for him.

Thank you. He signed back, smiling widely. I’ll see you later, too.Hoping that it wasn’t too much for him. If Dean was just learning, he wouldn’t know much more than that.

Was he learning just for him?

Goodbye, Castiel signed, feeling more elated about this development than he’d felt about anything in a long time.

***

It was another long night ahead of Castiel and his team, but after this, he had the next three days off - and that was something that he always looked forward to. In fact, the next few days off sounded especially good, seeing as he’d mentioned to Balthazar that he’d found the man from the rollover crash and he had not let it go since.

“And so you’re still visiting him?” Balthazar asked, looking like he was shouting a little to be heard over the noise in the fast food joint they were currently at for their lunch break. He wondered how long he was going to keep it up before he remembered that all Castiel was doing was reading his lips.

“Yes.”

“Why? It wasn’t enough to see he’s alive and then skip on home, knowing that one more person in the world hasn’t shuffled off the mortal coil?”

“I--he’s… nice. Pleasant to be around.”

Balthazar raised an eyebrow and looked over at where Anna had just taken a bite out of her sandwich.

“What do you think, Probie?”

Anna shrugged and swallowed. “Crush.”

Castiel gaped at the two of them and shook his head, sure that a pink hue was now tinting his features. “I do not have a crush. That would be entirely inappropriate. I’m simply helping him adjust to life. He seems like he could use a friend.”

Anna and Balthazar glanced at each other before looking at him smugly.

“Huge crush.”

“Totally.”

“Also not that inappropriate.”

Castiel bit into his sandwich violently, feeling the betrayal emanate from his friends.

“Does he… still not like to be touched?” Anna asked, concern written on her face. The question also seemed to spark intrigue from Balthazar.

“Yes. That does seem to be a permanent… issue. But it’s fine. I’m very good at reading lips.”

Balthazar reached out and rested a hand on Castiel’s wrist. The warm feeling that came with the connection immediately washed over him, causing him to visibly relax as he could hear Balthazar’s voice in his mind.

“But Cas. You like to communicate this way. You really like it. I doubt it would be a very healthy relationship for you.”

Castiel frowned. “That’s true. I do enjoy this,” he pulled his hand back out of Balthazar’s light grip. “But I enjoy him more.”

Anna looked a little confused, having been left out of part of the conversation, but she seemed to get the gist of it.

“If you say so.” Balthazar muttered. “But I think you’re crazy. This sounds like a trainwreck.”

“I guess that’s just a matter of opinion.”

Chapter Text

When Dean was five years old, his house had caught on fire in the middle of the night. His dad had shoved his six-month-old brother into his arms, demanding that he run.

So Dean ran.

Even though he could hear screaming from somewhere inside his home, he ran.

They had spent the next three days visiting his mom in the hospital while she was covered in third degree burns, and he’d screamed the first time he’d seen her.

Dean needed to get out of this hospital, and he needed to get out of it now.

He spent a majority of the next two weeks arguing and bargaining with Jess and any doctor that came to visit him to try and get an early release. It had taken some maneuvering, but he’d finally managed to get Jess to admit that technically he could leave now, but it would be highly against medical advisement.

“I consider myself medically advised.” he stated, trying not to feel intimidated by the strength of his nurse’s glare. “I just want to get out of this place and go home! I’m sick of the smell. I’m sick of wearing this stupid hospital gown that barely covers my ass! I’m sick of the fucking calming wall colors, and I’m sick of people looking at me like I’m broken!”

“Is….now a bad time?”

Both Dean and Jess looked over at the doorway where Castiel stood holding another brown paper bag that undoubtedly held some sort of food.

Dean put on the most pitiful face he could manage and closed all of the fingers on his good hand together, touching them to the side of his mouth and then tapping them on his cheek.

The gesture earned him a raised eyebrow that he really hoped was because Castiel was impressed, and not skeptical.

“When is he being released?” Castiel asked, setting the bag on the small bedside table.

Jess glanced at her clipboard and clicked her tongue. “Two days,” she said, shooting Dean another glare when he opened his mouth to argue. “A very important two days.”

Dean huffed and looked over at Cas, who was humming thoughtfully.

“What if you let him go home today,” he said, absently copying the sign for ‘home’ that Dean had done a minute before, “And I check on him for you tomorrow. Just in case.”

Jess squinted her eyes suspiciously, glancing between the two as Dean put on a somber face. Finally, she sighed. “I’ll talk to the doctor and see what I can do.” She pointed a finger at Dean. “You have to let him check on you, and you have to get your brother to ask me on a date before he leaves back to Kansas.”

Dean raised his good arm in victory, easily accepting the compromise. There was something strangely thrilling about the idea of Cas knowing where he lived. Though his apartment wasn’t going to be much, seeing as he’d only moved in a few weeks ago.

He stopped his victory arm pump when Castiel turned a stern finger on him as well. “But you don’t get to be smug, you have to be extra careful, and you owe me one.”

It probably wasn’t the best time to remind Castiel that Dean already owed him his life.

“Sure thing, Cas. You want a date with Sam, too? I don’t know if he swings that way but I’ll ask.”

Cas rolled his eyes and flopped down in the chair next to Dean’s bed.

“Thank you, but Jess can have him.” he said, gesturing towards the paper bag. “I hope you like pie, by the way.”

Dean’s good arm immediately reached around to grab at the bag, a heavenly aroma already leaking from its containment.

“You are a godsend,” he proclaimed, digging into the small slice of pie as soon as he possibly could.

Castiel smiled and let out a deep sigh.”I’ve been thinking about my personal question for you.”

Dean looked up cautiously, ready to explain that he wasn’t really comfortable talking about why he didn’t like touching if that’s what it came to.

“How did you learn to play the guitar?”

Dean paused as it took a moment to realize that the question that was asked wasn’t the one he’d expected. “Oh, uh. I’m self-taught. Mostly.” he murmured, wiping at his mouth when he saw Cas staring.

He was used to people staring at him, when they thought he was being weird. He was used to people staring at his lips when they wanted to kiss him, but Cas wasn’t staring because he wanted something, he was staring because he needed to know what Dean had to say, and that was going to take some getting used to.

“When I was fifteen, my dad moved us to some crappy motel in Nashville. I found an old acoustic guitar in a dumpster one day. Nothing wrong with it or anything, maybe a little worn, but it looked like someone had just given up on a dream and had left it for me to find.”

He coughed and shoved the used napkin into the paper sack as Castiel continued to stare at his mouth intently.

“I fell in love with it immediately, just…you know. Plucking at the strings was really relaxing. Next day I tried to get a five-finger discount on a ‘Guitar for Beginners’ book and got caught. Luckily the store owner figured out pretty quick that I just wanted to learn to play, so he gave me some lessons in exchange for cleaning up around the store.”

Dean smiled as the memories came back.

“His name was Benny. Good guy. Taught me the basics. How to tune, chords, strums, stuff like that. It was one of the only times I can remember not wanting to leave and get back on the road to a different town. It was the longest we ever stayed in one place. Then after two months, I came back to the motel and Dad had already packed everything into the car and said we had to leave. He only let me keep the guitar because it seemed to keep me out of trouble and out of his hair."

His smile slowly faded. “Never got to say goodbye to Benny. But he taught me enough to figure shit out on my own and that’s mainly what I’ve been doing ever since.”

Dean glanced up at Cas, relieved to see that he was just nodding thoughtfully.

“You must be very good.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “This time last year I was screwing around with open mic nights at any bar I could find. I just got lucky when some big shot heard me and had me test out being a guest guitarist for some recordings. Did some freelance stuff for them that made me some good money and they offered me a contract last week.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked to the cast.

Before Dean could speak again, Cas had pulled a bright orange card from his uniform pocket and had handed it to him.

“Charlie Bradbury,” Dean read, “Physical Therapist Extraordinaire.” He hummed. “Nice card.”

“I guarantee that if you go to Charlie, you’ll be able to play again in no time.” Castiel smiled reassuringly. “The best I’ve ever seen, I promise.”

This was all so much.

First Cas had to go and save his life. Then he had to come and visit him. And visit him again. Then he’d negotiated an early release for him at his own cost, and now he was sincerely trying to help out this stranger he didn’t even know until just a few weeks ago.

“Why are you doing all this for me?” he asked softly, forcing himself to stare into the blue of Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel’s gaze softened. “Because you, Dean Winchester, deserve it.”

He stood before Dean could even begin to recover from that statement and smiled. “Sorry about the short stay this time, but I should head home. Congratulations on leaving early, Dean. Text me your address and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dean waved as Castiel walked back out of the door, still struggling to comprehend the fact that it in no way signified that he was walking out of his life.

***

Sam was there to drive him to his apartment at the end of the day, but not without a continuous disapproving look--which meant that Jess had probably already told him that this was technically against medical advisement.

The drive consisted of a barrage of questions.

“When do you start physical therapy?”

“Can you still afford this apartment with no job?”

“Are you going to go easy on yourself?”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when they finally pulled up to his apartment.

Sam put the car in park and reached under his seat.

“By the way, I figured your last ones got ruined in the wreck, so I got you these.”

Dean watched as Sam handed him a brand new pair of black leather gloves.

“Figured you’d need some new ones soon, right?”

Dean nodded slowly and slipped them on, flexing his fingers a few times to test the perfect fit.

Even though Sam didn’t really get it, he’d seemed to understand and tried to help out as much as he could. He was a great brother when he wasn’t pestering Dean with questions he didn’t want to have to think about.

“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.” he murmured.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly and Dean slid out of the front seat.

“Hey Sam?” he said, turning around.

“Yeah?”

“Ask Jess on a date before you leave. Okay?”

Sam grinned. “I will. Go get some rest.”

Dean waved goodbye, but made no promises as he let himself into his apartment.

Boxes were stacked in various piles all around the living room, begging to be unpacked. It didn’t have much of a homey feel yet, and he doubted that it would for a while seeing as he’d more or less lost motivation to give the place any finishing touches.

Luckily he at least had the essentials set up in the living room.

Couch.

He made himself comfortable on the couch, and didn’t even notice when he fell into unconsciousness.

There was a rude awakening in the morning, when three sharp taps against the front door were enough to wake him.

Shit. What time was it?

He sat up with a groan and wiped at the drool that had apparently run down his face sometime during the night.

The knocking continued  until he groggily opened the door and blinked at the familiar face.

“Did I wake you?” Castiel asked, noting the obvious bedhead, rumpled clothing and tired expression.

“Maybe,” he said gruffly, “What time is it?”

“One in the afternoon,” he smiled, as if sunshine was coming out of his ass. “May I come in?”

Dean stepped aside and gestured for Castiel to make himself at home. “Sorry that everything’s a mess. I’m still moving in.” he muttered, shoving a box aside with his foot.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Dean mentally slapped himself like the idiot he was. Either make sure that Cas can see his lips when he talks, or hurry up with learning ASL. He waved a hand like it wasn’t a big deal and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Shutting the door behind them, he walked back over to the couch and flopped down. “So you’re here to check me out?” he asked, making sure Cas had a good view of his lips.

He probably just imagined the quick look up and down.

“Uh, yes. Though seeing as you came home and slept, I highly doubt you’ve done anything to exert yourself and are probably perfectly fine.”

He smiled and sat himself down next to Dean on the couch. “Does anything hurt unnecessarily?”

“I rolled off a cliff, Cas.”

Dean definitely deserved that eyeroll.

“I’m going to assume no, then,” Cas said, pulling out a latex glove from his pocket. “Now normally, a stethoscope would be used for this but…” he gestured at his ears before putting on the glove.

“Right.”

Dean’s nerves about this whole ‘checking in on him’ thing had calmed significantly when he saw that Cas had taken the time to bring a glove with him. He wasn’t going to try and force him to accept touch.

“I’m going to feel your carotid artery for a few moments to get your pulse, alright?”

Dean nodded and tilted his head to the side, feeling his face heat up a little when Cas’s gloved fingers pressed against his neck.

He stared up at the ceiling as he waited for Cas to be done getting his pulse (which was probably through the roof), looking anywhere that wasn’t in his eyes.

“All seems well,” Castiel said, pulling back.

“So that’s it?” Dean asked.

“Not quite,” Castiel murmured. “Do you mind if I check on the stitching? I was told you had a good amount and I just want to double check on the healing process.”

Before he’d left the hospital Jess had given Dean a long talk on how to properly wash his stitches for the next little while until they could be taken out, and he was pretty sure he’d be able to get it right.

Dean licked his lips once and lifted up his shirt where he’d had some glass shards from the windshield imbedded. There was a light brush of latex against his ribs before his shirt was lightly tugged back down.

“If the others look like that, then I’m sure you’re fine,” Castiel said, as he tugged the glove off.

“So… that’s it?” Dean swallowed and he attempted to fight off the blush that had been itching to creep up since Castiel had inspected his neck.

“I believe so,” Castiel smiled. “I’m sure you want to get on with the rest of your day, so I’ll be on my way--”

“You can stay if you want,” Dean interrupted. “I mean, I’m sure you’re busy and stuff but if you don’t have to go you don’t… have to… ”

Well done, Dean.

What an amazing sentence.

Not to mention that there wasn’t much to do at his apartment, and why the hell was he inviting Castiel anyway?

Cas smiled gratefully, but shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I have… an evaluation today that I’m required to attend.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked curiously. “What about?”

Castiel licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Just a recent job. One of my superiors believes it was handled incorrectly.”

Dean frowned. “Well, that sucks. I think you’ve done pretty damn good, but I might be a little biased. Did they die?”

He shook his head.

“Are they suing?”

“God, I hope not.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

Castiel sighed and stood, running a hand through his hair and making it even more disheveled. “It’s not important. I’m sure it will get sorted out.” He shrugged and took a step closer to the door. “Goodbye, Dean. It was nice seeing you again. I hope you’ll take the time soon to set up an appointment with Charlie.”

Dean snorted and waved as he walked him to the door, like the gentleman he was. “Alright, alright. I’ll get right on that. Thanks for coming by. Now that you know where I live you can stalk me.”

Cas chuckled as he turned out the door.

“I’ll think about it.”

***

“Hey! I’m Charlie. You must be Dean.”

Dean stared back at the outstretched hand, following it up to the very female face and mane of wild red hair. He really could have said anything. ‘Hi’ would have worked. ‘Hello’. Anything. Instead what came out was:

“You’re not a guy.”

Charlie paused for a moment before she gasped dramatically and grabbed at her breasts in shock. “I’m not? Holy shit, someone needs to tell my girlfriend she’s a lesbian.”

Dean’s face flushed bright red when he realized his stupidity. Cas hadn’t ever technically specified Charlie’s gender, and Dean had just assumed she was a guy.

“Sorry,” he murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t mean that in like a sexist way, I promise. Cas just kept saying ‘Charlie’ and I just… didn't realize.”

She smiled and stuck out her left hand again. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t the first time it’s happened and it definitely won’t be the last.”

Dean grasped her hand with his gloved one, ignoring her intrigued look as they shook.

Weird looks were nothing new. He’d gotten more or less used to them by now.

“Alright, so seeing as you’ve still got that cast on for a little while longer, we’re not going to do much of anything physical today. I was thinking that we could get to know each other a bit, fill out some necessary paperwork and then we could maybe focus on some lesser areas if we have time at the end of it.”

She turned and gestured for him to follow, leading them both to a room with various yoga mats, exercise tools and three bean bag chairs in the very center.

“Have a seat,” she offered, flopping down onto the lime green bag with a small ‘thud’.

Bean bag chairs?

Hell yeah.

He slowly got himself comfortable on the pink bean bag chair (which was actually a lot harder to do in a full arm cast than he’d realized).

“I can start, if you want,” she said cheerfully.

“Start what?”

“Talking about myself! Look, I’ll show you how it’s done.” Charlie cleared her throat and brushed back any stray strands of hair out of her face. “My name is Charlie, as you figured out. I’m a female, also as you figured out. I got into physical therapy after my parents were in a car crash and had to go through some major PT. I’ve been doing this professionally for about four years now. Cats are better than dogs. Star Wars over Star Trek, and Han shot first. Any questions?”

Dean tapped on his chin thoughtfully. “Do you still want me to tell your girlfriend that she’s a lesbian?”

Charlie winked. “Oh, she knows.”

Dean had had some doubts about finding a Physical Therapist that he connected with, but he was pretty damn sure that he and Charlie were going to get along just fine. In just five minutes they were having a nice, comfortable conversation about Lord of the Rings and all of Dean’s nervous tension about the visit melted away. Cas was right about Charlie. She was an easy conversationalist and excelled in just about every possible topic.

“So, are you going to be bringing a friend or family member to our sessions?”

“Uh,” Dean blinked in confusion, and Charlie gestured to the third bean bag chair.

“We generally encourage our patients here to bring either a friend or family member with them to sessions for moral support and to help you remember stuff. Just in case. I was just wondering if you had someone in mind.”

Well, Sam was the first person that came to mind, but he’d already left to go back to Kansas and wouldn’t be able to afford flying out every week just to accompany him. Jo might be able to, but she worked just about every week day.

Maybe… maybe Cas would?

“I’ll figure it out.”

“We just have a few other things to talk about, then.”

And with that, they discussed Dean’s medical history (which wasn’t much), his previous medications, and his current injuries. Dean let her know the best he could about what was broken and what was healing, but he was pretty sure that if he got Cas to come with him, he’d probably be able to tell it better. Dean told her the bare essentials of what she’d asked for, not going too deep into anything he wasn’t comfortable talking about.

All in all, it took about forty-five minutes for Charlie to get all of that information down, but once she had, she stuck the pen behind her ear and clapped her hands together.

“Well, then,” Charlie said, “I think we have time for something small.”

They ended on some breathing exercises, and even that was pushing his limits a little because of his cracked ribs that hadn’t fully healed quite yet.

“So what are your goals, Dean?” she asked they inhaled deeply.

“World domination?”

“Alright, good goal. But let’s think small term for now. Physical therapy oriented, preferably. Is there something that you want to be able to do soon?”

Well, get back to normal. Get back to what he was like before the crash. But that probably wasn’t the answer that she was looking for.

“I’d like to be able to play the guitar again. Sometime real soon,” he said finally.

“Perfect!” Charlie exclaimed. “I’ll be sure to integrate some hand and finger coordination exercises into our routine, and I swear to God if you turn that into a sex joke I will strangle you. But if that’s your main goal I’ll make sure that it happens, okay?”

After a few weeks of just hearing bad news, it was a little unbelievable to hear someone say that he’d be able to play guitar again. It was hard to believe anything good someone told him about an arm that had been broken in three places.

He’d already basically resigned himself to having to wait a few years before he could play again, but maybe Cas was right. Maybe he was just being very melodramatic.

The contract opportunity was now long gone, but that didn’t mean that he’d never be able to pick up a guitar again, right?

“Yeah, okay.”

Charlie smiled and stood up, “Then that is all that I’m going to force you through today. You’ve been a champ, Dean. We’ll do some more mild stuff next week and then after that the cast should be gone. Then we can get into the nitty gritty fun stuff!”

Dean figured that was his cue to stand.

His attempt at a smooth transition back onto his feet failed spectacularly as he tried to push himself up with one hand and ended up flopping back down after he couldn’t get a good lift.

He was half expecting Charlie to reach down and help him to his feet, but she just crossed her arms in front of her chest and watched as he struggled, a small quirk to her lips.

Getting up from a damn bean bag chair should not be this hard.

It took a solid minute for him to figure out how to hoist himself onto his feet without putting too much pressure on his cast, but he finally managed it.

“Well done, Winchester,” she said with an accompanying slow clap. “It seems like I’m going to have my work cut out for me.”

“Oh, boo hoo, that must be terrible for you,” he muttered, rolling his good shoulder.

“I like you, Dean. I think we’re gonna get along just fine. But just so you know, next time you can ditch the long sleeves. A T-shirt will be just fine.”

Yeah, that probably wasn’t going to happen. Long sleeved shirts gave him a protection that he liked, so that he wouldn’t accidentally bump into anyone.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, trying to make it seem like he was playing it off as a joke to avoid an awkward situation. “Sometimes I just have to cover up these guns or the line of people trying to get a glimpse of them will never end.” He offered her his gloved hand again. “Thanks so much, Charlie. For doing this. I appreciate it, you know?’

“No problem!” she said cheerfully. “Any friend of Cas’s is a friend of mine. By the way, if you see him again, let him know that he still owes me twenty bucks.”

“What for?”

Charlie grinned with a mischievous glint to her eyes. “I proved him wrong. You should ask him about it. You have my card, right?”

He nodded.

“If you ever need to like… talk, about anything… feel free to give me a call, okay? Don’t be a stranger.”

Dean saluted her with a grin and waved as she turned back inside.

His taxi ride home was was a long one and it just was a reminder of yet another thing that he couldn't do with a broken arm.

But Charlie seemed great. She made him believe that that he might get back to normal again.

One day.

***

Dean stared at his phone.

And continued to stare at his phone.

He could do it.

It wasn’t annoying, right?

He could pick up that phone and call Casti--and text Castiel, asking him if he’d like to come to his physical therapy sessions.

But Cas was so busy all of the time, and the times that he wasn’t busy he was tired from working nights. He had already gone out of his way to visit Dean all of the times that he did, and asking him to do another extra thing was like… a breach of the contract they had.

They were at the point where Dean considered Cas a friend. They were friendly. They texted. Did they know everything about each other? No. But what friend did? It at least wouldn’t hurt to ask.

Dean rolled his eyes at his own indecisiveness and picked up the phone, typed out the question, and sent it before he could talk himself back out of it. Cas was a good guy. If it really was too much for him to handle, he’d say something.

The phone didn’t ring right away, and in all honesty he shouldn’t have expected it to. Cas was probably at work, doing the thing where he saved lives and shit.

He sighed and shoved the phone in his pocket, and walked to the corner of his living room where he kept his guitar. It was a little bit of a struggle, but he managed to unzip the cover with his left hand, and pull out the polished wood guitar.

It was the guitar that he’d saved up for and had finally bought after a few years. The very first one that he’d played had been the one he’d found in an alleyway next to a dumpster in one of the cities that his dad had dragged him to, but this one… this one was everything to him.

The wood was a simple black with a ring of mother-of-pearl around the sound hole.

The guitar was one of the few things he could touch that didn’t demand something in return. He could touch it and just feel smooth wood and musical vibrations. No thoughts, no feelings, and no unnecessary retaliation.

Just music.

He ran his hand over the wood and set it on his lap, plucking on the strings with one finger. It was impossible for him to play it normally at the moment, what with the dumb fucking cast situation that he’d gotten himself into.

An email had come into his mailbox yesterday from Diablo records, telling him that while they were sympathetic to his dilemma, they couldn’t wait for his arm to heal and were hiring someone else.

They’d also ended with a, “Maybe next year”.

Fuck next year.

He grabbed the guitar by the neck and put it back in its case before flopping back down on his small couch and turning on the TV.

It was back to playing in bars if he wanted to make any money.

That contract would have been really nice.

***

I’d love to, if you really want me to go.

Dean pulled out his phone at midnight when he heard it go off and looked at the name groggily. Cas must have just gotten off work, or maybe he’d had a spare moment to text him back.

Great! Oh I forgot to tell you, Charlie says you owe her 20 bucks. That true?

Yes.

What for?

I said she wouldn’t be able to communicate in ASL in one month. She proved me wrong.

One month? It can be done in a month?

Not very well. But enough to get a point across.

Challenge accepted.

***

Dean looked up at the honk of a horn, and grabbed his gloves, tugging them over his hands before he walked out the door.

Cas had asked if he’d like a ride, and Dean had had a weak moment where he’d realized that he wouldn’t have to take a smelly taxi anymore if Cas came and picked him up, and he’d said yes.

“You work today?” he asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said, looking over at him with a smile.

Oh right. He hadn’t been looking and he, of course, hadn’t heard him.

“Heya Cas. Did you work today?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, I have the next few days off, fortunately. Just so you’re aware, we’re not going to be able to communicate on the ride there, seeing as I can’t take my eyes off the road to watch your lips. Apologies in advance for the awkward silence, but as they say: welcome to my world.”

Dean grinned. “Sure thing.”

The ride there wasn’t as awkward as Castiel had made it seem like it might be. The radio had been turned on, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was just for his own comfort or if Castiel could somehow feel the vibrations from it, or something. Dean would have to ask him about that sometime.

He tapped his fingers in time to the music until they arrived at Charlie’s clinic.

Charlie was already waiting for them with a smile on her face and a hand palm up in front of Castiel, who promptly set a crisp twenty dollar bill on top of it.

Charlie shoved it into her pocket and did a flurry of hand movements that went completely over Dean’s head, but apparently not to Castiel, who signed a few things back.

“Alright!” Charlie clapped her hands together. “Let’s head inside and maybe Cas can help us out with a few things that we missed about your physical condition.”

They spent another fifteen minutes going over Dean’s exact injuries, with Charlie and Cas using ASL as they talked to help move the conversation along and make it easier for Cas.

Cas managed to remember most of the details about Dean’s condition that Dean wasn’t able to, which worked out perfectly for everyone. Charlie, however, grimaced when she heard the exact details about his injuries.

“Dude, that sucks. Congrats on surviving though. That’s pretty damn incredible.”

Dean tugged at his long sleeves and shrugged. “Cas gets most of that credit.” he muttered.

He looked up when he saw Charlie quickly translating what he’d just said to Cas. Right. Lips in view. Lips in view.

“I believe you should get some credit as well, Dean. But only a little.”

Dean snorted and nudged him with his good arm. “Oh!” he said, suddenly remembering, “You’ll have to tell me how your evaluation went after this.”

“Evaluation?” Charlie piped up, squinting at Cas who seemed a lot more uncomfortable than he was a few seconds ago. “Another one? Cas, that’s bullshit and you know it.”

Castiel shrugged. “It is what it is. She doesn’t have anything to hold over me yet so I’m fine.”

Dean frowned and looked between the two of them. There was obviously something that he had yet to be clued in on.

“I’m confused.”

Charlie broke eye contact with Cas to sigh and look at Dean. “One of his new superiors thinks that Cas is a liability. She’s so freaking anal about anything he does now. If she thinks she has something to get him fired, she’ll have an ‘evaluation’ for him.”

Dean gaped and turned back to Cas who had ducked his head down at the attention. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he said in disbelief once Cas was looking at him. “I can talk to her if you want. About how awesome you are.”

Castiel smiled ruefully. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. I do good work. She’ll recognize that eventually.” He cleared his throat. “We can talk about this later. This is Dean’s time.”

Charlie grunted and rolled her eyes. “Can’t do much with that cast on. Especially after hearing the extent of his injuries. I was just going to recommend that you not come back until that cast is off.”

That was only two weeks away, and yet Dean could tell it was going to be two of the longest weeks of his life. Doing daily tasks would have been impossible, were it not for how stubborn he was in general.

“Still,” Charlie pointed at Dean, “You work on resting and getting that cast off,” she pointed at Cas, “You work on a murder plot that I will enact if I have to. Alright team? Break!”

Chapter Text

Castiel wasn’t really sure how it happened, but he and Dean started texting more and more frequently. There were a few times that he’d received a call from him, only to be cut off shortly with a message insisting that it had been a butt-dial.

During the past week and half he’d been over to Dean’s home three times in between his work shifts. Most of it had been to help him unpack and get the apartment in order seeing as a full arm cast wasn’t the best companion for doing so.

“You really didn’t know you were deaf until you were nine?”

Castiel nodded and set a box on the floor of Dean’s bedroom. “My parents were very adamant that I learn to blend into the hearing community. I went to hearing schools, had hearing tutors, learned to read lips like it was a normal part of life, and for a long time I thought that if you wanted to know what a person’s voice sounded like, you touched them. It wasn’t until my classmates started to get angry at me for ignoring them that my parents finally explained that not everyone was like me.”

Dean sat down and opened the box, pulling out a few items as he listened to Cas talk. “So when’d you learn sign language?”

“At around twelve. I realized quickly that it was an easier way to communicate with people. If they knew it. Sometimes lip reading just isn’t enough.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

Castiel paused and jerked his head towards the corner of the room. “Is that your guitar?”

Dean looked over and shook his head. “No. Well, yeah, but it’s my old one. It doesn’t play very well anymore but I’m sentimental.”

Castiel smiled and pulled a few books from the box and set them on the small bookshelf. “I’d like to feel you play sometime.” he murmured, looking over at Dean who seemed a little confused.

“You’d like to… feel me play?”

“Yes. I can’t hear the music, but I can feel the vibrations if I set my hand on the guitar.” He tilted his head to the side. “And the musicians are generally nice to watch.”

To his credit, Dean just laughed.

“Perfect. As soon as I get this damn cast off, we can celebrate with your own private concert. Sound good?”

Castiel nodded. “I would like that.”

“Cool. Now do me a favor and don’t look in that shoebox you just pulled out, because that would just be awkward for everyone.”

***

The cast is OFF. Stitches are OUT. I’m FREE.

Castiel smiled down at the phone and set down his cards to text out a reply.

Except for the slight atrophy in the arm, correct?

Castiel looked up and was met with a knowing smirk from both Balthazar and Anna.

“You’re texting him again, aren’t you?”

He shrugged.

I had to google that word, but yeah. Except for that. Have time to come over today?

Later tonight.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything, but you know that a distraction is the last thing you need right now, right?”

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If Naomi--”

“Naomi has better things to do that stalk me and my relationships, Balthazar.”

Balthazar sighed and laid down his hand. “Flush. You?”

“High card, Queen. Anna?”

Anna smiled, revealed a royal flush, and promptly had Balthazar’s hand thrown at her.

***

Dean’s apartment was a familiar place, now. He was there to watch it get homier as they unpacked his things and decorated with what little Dean had. Castiel’s own home was only about a fifteen minute drive away so it wasn’t terribly inconvenient for him to be making the drive, and as long as Dean kept inviting him, he would keep visiting.  

Dean opened the door soon after he’d knocked, smiling widely and gesturing inside with the arm that used to be in a cast.

Castiel noticed that he wore the black gloves on both hands now that the cast was off, and he kept the long sleeves on even in the hot California weather.

Most likely to prevent an accidental touch.

“Are you done with work today?” he asked, making his way over to the fridge.

“I am.”

“Perfect. Then you can have a beer.” He smiled and grabbed one from the fridge, tossing it over.

Dean made his way over to the guitar he kept in the corner and ran what Castiel now noticed was shaking fingers along the case.

“So uh, I haven’t done this in a while,” Dean said once he’d looked up. “I’m really rusty. Plus I’m probably not going to be very good anyway until Charlie helps me out.”

“I’m sure I won’t notice.”

“Right.”

Castiel set the unopened can down on the table and sat down on the couch that he’d helped Dean move to the other side of the room last week. Dean was carefully taking the guitar out of its case and propping it up on the couch next to him.

The shaking in his hands seemed to decrease slightly as he slowly took off the leather gloves.

“Alright. Song request?” he asked, chewing on his lip as he sat down and pulled the guitar into his lap. He strummed it a few times and tweaked the notches at the top.

Castiel reached out and lay a hand on top of the guitar, somewhere it wouldn’t be in the way, and shook his head.

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

Dean didn’t move for a few moments, but in time he began to pluck on the strings one by one. Castiel was tempted to close his eyes and focus purely on the feel of the music, but Dean’s face was far more enticing.

Whenever he did something incorrectly, (which seemed to be fairly often), his face would scrunch together and he’d give a small embarrassed smile. After a few minutes, Dean’s mouth began to move, apparently singing along to the melody.

There had been a few times that one of Castiel’s friends had allowed him to place a hand on their throat as they sang so that he knew what it felt like. He was tempted to ask now, (with a barrier, of course) but Dean seemed like the kind of person who appreciated small steps. Playing the guitar again was already a fairly big step for him.

“… don’t let me down. You have found her, now go and get her… ”

Castiel smiled as he read the words off of Dean’s lips. From what he could tell, it was a lovely song and the chorus was strong. Dean’s strumming became more forceful, making stronger vibrations, before slowing back down again to the simpler chord progression.

“… Remember to let her under your skin, then you’ll begin to make it better….”

Whether or not Dean had a lovely voice, he would probably never know.

The vibrations eventually came to a stop, and Castiel removed his hand so that he could clap.

“That was wonderful, Dean.”

Dean grimaced and leaned the guitar against the couch again. “It was shit. I still need to practice.”

“Well if you made a mistake, I couldn’t hear it.” he said with a smile.

“Oh, ha ha ha.”

Castiel chuckled as Dean reached over and grabbed his gloves again. He was apparently done playing the guitar for right now, but his hands had started to shake again.

“Are you alright?” he asked in concern.

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… now that I have my cast off… there’s something else I’d like to do.”

And Dean began to speak in sign language.

I’m new at this. Not very good.

Castiel smiled as he read the words off of his hands.  

But I’m learning. Mainly from google.

He nodded, already impressed by what Dean had managed to communicate.

Do you want to get coffee soon? Or something else. On a--

Dean paused.

Date.

Castiel raised his eyebrows as he felt a light blush burn across his face.

Yes. Thank you. I want that, Dean.

Dean let out a breath of air that he’d apparently been holding and visibly relaxed.

What was that you signed? Dean asked, copying the last movement Castiel had done.

Castiel laughed and re-did the sign in the way it was normally done, with one hand pretending to cradle the neck of a guitar and the other strumming three times.

“That is how you say ‘guitar’.” He did the sign again with the strumming hand creating the letter ‘D’. “And that is my name for you.”

“Oh.” Dean grinned and ducked his head, repeating the sign. “I like it.”

Castiel couldn’t stop smiling as he watched Dean continue to sign his name. He liked it too.

***

Friday.

Their date was going to be this Friday.

The past couple of days, Castiel had been on a cloud, performing his duties without a single complaint, even when Balthazar suggested they clean out the ambulance.

He blinked in surprise when an arm shot in front of him as he was carrying back the disinfectant spray, causing him to stop mid-step.

When he turned his head, Balthazar was squinting suspiciously at him.

Why are you so chipper? Balthazar thought to him once he’d set a hand on Castiel’s forearm.

Castiel rolled his eyes. I’m no more chipper than usual. Do you want me to put this cleaner back or would you rather do it?

Balthazar continued to glare at him. Did you hear back from Naomi?

Yes. She couldn’t get the rest of them to agree with her. Again. So she’s stuck with me.

But that’s not why you’re so damn happy.

Balthazar pouted and brought out the puppy eyes, which was actually a terrible look for him and had nowhere near the effect he thought it did. Please? I’m so terribly curious.

Castiel tried to hold back the flush of red as he pulled away from Balthazar and cleared his throat. “Dean asked me on a date.”

“Dean? The guy from the accident?” Castiel nodded once and climbed into the ambulance. Balthazar was standing with his arms crossed when he turned back around. “Dean, Mr. ‘If-you-touch-me-again-I’ll-rip-your-balls-off-and-shove-them-up-your-ass’ Winchester?”

Castiel smiled. “To be fair, I did warn you not to touch him.”

“So you’re okay with never touching him? You’re just going to read his lips forever?”

His expression hardened as he glared at Balthazar. “No. He’s learning sign language. For me. Which, by the way, is more than you can say.”

Balthazar frowned. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

Castiel waved a hand dismissively. “That’s off subject. The point is that he is going out of his way for me. Why shouldn’t I do the same?”

“I just,” Balthazar shuffled awkwardly, “It’s your life. But you’re my best friend and I don’t want to see you give too much and be left with disappointment.”

Castiel sighed. “I appreciate your concern,” he murmured, moving past his friend and out of the vehicle,

“But I won’t be disappointed.”

***

Arguing over Hogwarts houses was not how Castiel had expected the next physical therapy session with Charlie to go, but he couldn’t say that he was entirely surprised.

“I’m telling you, Dean. You absolutely reek of Hufflepuff.”

Castiel smiled as Dean scoffed in the middle of his stretching. “I do not.” he grimaced a little, probably straining a muscle. “I’m totally a Gryffindor.”

“Sure, Dean ‘talks-about-the-time-he-ate-just-tuna-for-a-week-so-his-brother-could-have-spaghettios’ Winchester, I believe you.”

Castiel had heard Charlie argue over these things before, and he really should have warned Dean that she always won.

“Well then, what are you?” Dean asked, gesturing at her as he pulled back out of the stretch.

Charlie clicked a finger-gun in his direction.

“Slytherin and proud.”

“Figures.”

Castiel chuckled. “Don’t disrespect her house, Dean. I’ve seen her kill a man over it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

They both nodded solemnly.

Charlie laughed and stood back up, walking over to Dean.

“Alright. So we’re going to do some joint mobilization on you.” She picked up Dean’s gloved hand with her own. “It’s going to involve some loosening of your restricted joints--” She pulled back his sleeve with one hand.  

Dean tensed.

“Charlie…” Castiel warned, not sure if Dean had mentioned his intolerance of contact.

“--and it’s going to increase the range of motion.”

She set a hand on top of his forearm.

Dean reared back with a panicked yell, jerking his arm out of her grasp.

Castiel shot forward as Dean fell back and clutched at his head, gasping and whispering “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.

“Dean! Dean.” Castiel crouched next to him, trying to deliberate how he should handle this. Any attempt to ground him through touch might just send him into a bigger spiral.

“Dean, it’s okay.” he murmured. “Charlie didn’t know. Hey. Dean. I need you to try and take some deep breaths, okay?”

Dean gritted his teeth before taking in a few deep breaths.

“Now take a breath and hold it.”

Castiel turned to a very alarmed Charlie as Dean held his breath. “I’m sorry, Charlie, I thought you were told. I’ll explain it to you later, but this session is over.”

She nodded. “I’ll go get some water.

He turned back to Dean and continued to speak soothingly to him. “You’re doing well, Dean. Now breath out slowly. Count to eight in your head.”

Dean closed his eyes and rushed the breathing process, but that was expected. Castiel reached out and carefully tugged his sleeve back down. “I’m sorry that happened, Dean. But you’re okay. No one here is going to try and get in your mind.”

He watched as Dean laid back against the carpet and covered his face with his arms. Castiel could see his jaw moving underneath his cover. “I can’t hear you, Dean.” he murmured softly as a gentle reminder, but it did nothing to stop him from apparently talking to himself.

Charlie came back with the water and handed it to Castiel. “Is he okay?”

He nodded. “It’s a panic attack. He’ll be fine eventually, but I’m going to take him home just in case.” He turned back around. “Dean, can you stand?”

Dean slowly brought his shaking arms back around and dropped them on the ground with a nod. “Yeah.” He grabbed at the water and took a large gulp before giving it back and casting his eyes to the ground.

“C’mon, then.”

Castiel let Dean pick himself up off of the floor and stand himself up. Any more physical touch, even if it was over the clothing, would probably be counter-productive to getting him back into a calm mental state.

Castiel waved at Charlie as he closely followed Dean back into the car that Castiel had driven them both in. After helping him into the passenger seat, Castiel quickly jogged around to the other side.

“Are you alright if I take you to my place?”

Dean leaned his head against the window and nodded. The ride to his own home was a relatively short distance away, but Castiel had opted for a small house instead of an apartment due to the modifications he had to make to any living space he decided to stay in, so it was a little outside of town.

For the ride home he let Dean sit in silence.

When they finally arrived he parked on the curb and turned off the car. Dean immediately got out before Castiel could even offer to help him, but he figured it was an independency complex that he was trying to assert after an episode like the one he’d just had.

Castiel’s home looked much like any other home on the block, but the interior was slightly different. When you rang the doorbell, all of the lights would flash instead of having a sound ring throughout the home. (When his mother explained how a doorbell worked, he’d laughed at how ridiculous it seemed). His pillow vibrated when he set an alarm. The oven and microwave lights would also flash. His television had a direct connection to a relay service if he wanted to make a phone call instead of a text, and subtitles were pre-set on the menu.

His home was a lot like himself.

If you looked at it from the outside, you wouldn’t know anything was different.

Castiel was unlocking the door when he felt a soft touch against his shoulder, asking him for his attention.

Dean wasn’t meeting his eyes when he turned.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Castiel read off of his lips. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I’m sorry I’m a neurotic fuck up and I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I don’t want to do that.”

Castiel shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Cas, this is--” He swallowed and gestured at himself with his gloved hands. “This is me. I spend most of my life thinking of ways to prevent getting touched and the rest of the time finding outlets that help me forget the times it happened. My brother doesn’t get it. He tries to but he doesn’t. No one does. It’s just how fucked up I am.”

Castiel let out a breath and shook his head. “Let’s talk inside. Alright?”

Dean blinked and nodded slowly.

Castiel let them both inside the house and gestured to his couch once he’d shut the door behind them both. It was a white couch with a flower print that he’d found at a garage sale and Balthazar had told him on many occasions that it was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“We’re all fighting battles, Dean.” he said as he sat on the couch next to Dean. “Just because yours are… particularly expressive doesn’t mean that you’re not worth it.”

Dean took a deep breath and rubbed at his head. “I’m sorry. I just feel like the world is screaming at me and I’m fighting a losing battle at blocking it out.” He looked up. “You know what I mean?”

Castiel dared to let a small smile cross his face. “I have a fairly foolproof system that blocks out most screaming.”

Dean shook his head in exasperation. “Right.”

“Apologies. That was insensitive. What I meant was that, I’ve always felt… that when the world screams… at least you know it’s there.”

How very different their lives were.

“Dean,” Castiel started, a little hesitant to even ask, “Do you want to talk about it? Whatever it was that…”

“That made me this way?’ he finished.

Castiel waited.

Dean stared at the ground for a few moment, hands clasped together as his jaw clenched.

“You don’t have to.” Castiel clarified.

“Remember how I told you my dad got big into conspiracy theories?” Dean began to throw in a few sign language words that he knew as he spoke. “Well, I wasn’t kidding. My dad isn’t mentally … there. When mom died in that fire, he was sure it was the government trying to silence him or something. He dragged his two kids all around the US, never staying anywhere for long just in case the government had ‘tracked’ us. Every motel we stayed at started with a bug search where we’d check to make sure the room hadn’t had surveillance tech installed. It was insane.”

Dean took a deep breath.

“Every night he’d come back from who-knows-what and would grab my arm so that he could give me a mental third-degree interrogation. He was so sure that I was going to be brainwashed one of those days that he made sure I was still his good little soldier before we went to bed. I had every mental-warfare army tactic thrown at me by the time I was twelve.”

His arm started to shake slightly.

“It was hell.”

“And so now--”

“Now I can’t do it. I can’t let someone in like that. At least, not for a long time. There’s this screaming and--”

“Dean. Can I show you something?”

Dean blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but shrugged.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being ridiculous, but what I want to show you is a television show. I think you’ll like it.”

Dean frowned but allowed Castiel to pull out a DVD and stick it into the DVD player.

The title screen pulled up and Castiel set the subtitles and pressed play, despite the odd expression Dean had on his face when Castiel glanced back over at him.

“Pushing Daisies?” he asked skeptically. “What’s that?”

Watch and see, he signed with a smile.

Halfway through the first episode, Dean perked up, just as Castiel had hoped he would.

Pushing Daisies was a series that Castiel had seen many times. It revolved around the story of Ned the Piemaker, who could bring things back to life with a single touch, and his childhood love whom he had brought back to life and could now never touch again without the consequence of her permanent demise.

While it was funny, adorable, and mysterious, the two love interests in the story could never touch. They came up with many creative ways to hold hands and there was even a kissing scene through a thin layer of saran wrap.

But they still couldn’t touch.

Not ever.

And their relationship still managed to bloom into something beautiful.

They finished the first season well after the sun went down and when Castiel looked over, Dean had fallen asleep.

That was fine with him.

Castiel pulled the blanket from off of the couch where it was draped and set it over Dean’s curled-up figure.

“I don’t mind, Dean.” he whispered. “I really don’t.”

Dean smiled in his sleep.

***

It was Friday, and despite Dean telling him three times that they could call it off if he wanted, Castiel had managed to somehow assure him that he was still interested in this date.

However, when Dean had insisted on picking him up, he was confused. His only car had been destroyed in the wreck that had put him in the hospital.

Dean had told him to dress casually and so he had.

Come outside!

Castiel smiled and shoved his phone back into his pocket as he opened the front door.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting Dean to arrive with, but it definitely wasn’t a black and gold motorcycle.

“This is your car replacement?”

Dean grinned and twisted the clutch, presumably to rev the engine.

“I’m sure that sounds very impressive, Dean.” Castiel said, though he could definitely feel some sort of vibrations coming from its direction.

“Trust me,” Dean said with a wide smile, “It’s probably a good thing you can’t hear her, ‘cause if you could, you’d be a little bit turned on right now.”

Castiel laughed and folded his arms in front of his chest. “And you want me to hop on the back of that with you?”

Dean gently patted the seat behind him before pulling out a second helmet that he’d been hiding on the other side of the bike.

Castiel tapped his fingers against his arm before sighing and taking a hesitant step forward. “I hope you’re a good driver,” he murmured as he climbed up onto the back of the bike and accepted the helmet, purposefully staging it so he would miss Dean’s answer.

He’d rather not know.

Dean had dressed himself in a leather jacket that matched the gloves he always wore on his hands, and covered the back of his neck with the collar, effectively preventing Cas from accidentally touching it during the ride.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, double-checking that there was no exposed skin that that he could be touching.

When Dean’s hand shifted on the handle, he felt the engine roar to life beneath him. They shot forward and Castiel gripped onto him tightly as they raced down the street.

Cars, trees and houses flew past them as the sun dipped low in the sky next to them. This was the first time that Castiel had actually ridden a motorcycle and while a small part of him was terrified, this was definitely a dream he’d had since high school.

They earned a few odd looks at stoplights from people noticing the two men pressed together on the motorcycle. Dean just waved.

After about five minutes of driving, Castiel pressed his helmet against Dean’s back and closed his eyes, content to feel the vibrations of the bike and the wind. Eventually, the lights from the city began to fade slightly as Castiel felt them driving up hill.

He lifted his head back up and recognized the scenery of a nearby mountain park. Hiking? Were they going to go hiking? Had Castiel known, he probably would have brought better shoes.

Finally, Dean brought the bike to a slow stop in front of a particularly grassy area amongst some trees.

The two of them took the helmets off as they dismounted.

“What are we doing here?” asked Castiel, curiously.

Dean held up a finger as he popped open the seat and pulled out a folded blanket. “We are going to have a ridiculously cliché date,” he said with a smile, turning towards Cas so he could read his lips while his hands were occupied, “that includes a picnic in the park,” he pulled off the bag that had been attached to the back of the bike, “and stargazing. Think you can handle the sappiness?”

Castiel felt a small blush creep up onto his cheeks. “I think I’ll live.”

“Wonderful.”

The two of them walked a short distance away into the small clearing and away from where a majority of the people nearby were playing frisbee.

Castiel almost missed the blanket being tossed at him, but immediately spread it out on the soft grass beneath them. The moment their eating space had been set, Dean plopped down onto it and set the big bag in front of him, and Castiel could only assume that all of their food was being hidden there.

Dean’s hands were fidgeting slightly as they opened the top of the bag.

Apple. Dean signed, eyes glancing up to see if Castiel had seen his signed word before reaching into the bag and taking out two apples.

A grin crossed Castiel’s face as he nodded and brought his fist up to his cheek to repeat the gesture. Apple. Good.

Dean licked his lips and let out a short breath, apparently relieved that he’d gotten it right and dug around in the bag again before he did his next sign.

Two water bottles were extracted as Castiel continued to smile at this show-and-tell.

Castiel tilted his head to the side and decided to see how much communication he could do on this front. What kind of sandwich?

Dean’s face was a picture of concentration as Castiel repeated the question again, more slowly than he had the first time.

I understand. Dean signed, looking pleased that he’d deciphered the question. But I don’t know how to say.

Peanut butter. Castiel said the sign out loud. Tuna. Dean made a face when he spoke the word, causing Castiel to chuckle. Not tuna. Okay. Turkey.

Dean nodded enthusiastically and repeated the sign for “turkey” over and over.

Turkey sandwich. Yes.

Good. I like turkey.

I like you.

Dean threw in a wink as he pulled out the sandwiches and Castiel was glad that it was already getting darker out. It would hopefully help cover up the spreading blush.

Cracker.

Out came the box of crackers.

Sexy man.

Dean finished the sign and gestured at himself proudly.

Castiel laughed and repeated the sign in agreement. Yes. A sexy man.

He was on a date with a dork.

The food was split up evenly between the two of them with the box of crackers set in the middle. It wasn’t exactly a feast for kings but it was enough for Castiel. He would have accepted soggy lettuce if it meant spending time with Dean and his willingness to adapt.

Dean was trying to use as much sign language as he could while he spoke, but seeing as he was just a beginner, Castiel mainly used his lipreading ability and Dean threw in signs when he could, learning from Castiel as he signed.

“How are you handling the cliché?” Dean asked once he’d swallowed his sandwich. “Too much?”

Castiel pretended to sigh heavily as he shook his head. “Not enough, actually. Now that we’re here having a picnic in a park… I wish you could have brought your guitar. That would have cinched the cliché.”

Dean nodded solemnly. “True. Too bad a motorcycle can’t transport that sort of lifestyle very well.”

“So what’s your plan now?” Castiel asked as he popped a cracker into his mouth. “New car? Are you going to keep the bike?”

Dean shrugged. “Probably keep the bike. A friend cut me a deal on it, and if I really need to take my guitar somewhere I can take a taxi if I want.” He sighed and picked at the grass. “I miss the Impala, though. My dad would kill me if he ever found out what I did to it.”

“Is he still…” Castiel paused, not sure if he should use the word ‘alive’ or not. “… around?”

Dean took a bite of his apple and crossed his legs. Not really. He signed while he finished chewing.

“He went off the grid when me and Sammy moved on. He shows up every few years to check on us or because he thinks we’ve gone dark side and has to convince us to go back to him.” He shrugged. “He usually sees Sam. Sam can deal with him and he still lives in Kansas. I kind of… move around a lot. Haven’t seen him in a long long time, thank God.”

Thank God. Castiel signed in agreement.

There was a heavy silence in the air and Castiel couldn’t hear, but he could feel it. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the box of crackers and sat back. “Open your mouth, Dean.”

Dean took a moment to snicker. “Cas, I’m flattered but--”

Castiel chucked a cracker at his face, hitting him on the forehead. “Assbutt.”

“Assbutt?!” Dean laughed and dodged another well-aimed cracker. “What the hell kind of insult it that? Are you going to call me a dickpenis next?”

Castiel glared at him for as long as he could, but it was hard to stay mad at the laughing face of Dean Winchester. “I meant you should open your mouth and catch.”

Still dirty. Dean signed, but smiled as he did what he was told, tilting his head back to catch whatever cracker Castiel threw Dean’s way.

Castiel didn’t even make an attempt. Dean had lost the opportunity to enjoy a delightful food toss and was going to get pelted, now.

“Hey, you’re not even trying!” Dean said indignantly, swatting away a cracker heading for his eye.

“Nope.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and made a lunge for the box of crackers, spilling half of them all over the blanket when Castiel clung to them. Eventually he just ignored the box and grabbed handfuls of spilled crackers to chuck at him while Castiel did his best to duck.

He wasn’t sure who the first person was to start throwing handfuls of grass, but their skirmish quickly deteriorated after that, earning them a set of strange looks from the few other adults in the park that neither of them noticed until Dean had Castiel more or less pinned down by his wrists (which still contained lethal amounts of grass), and they were done laughing.

“I win.” Dean stated triumphantly as Castiel stared back up at him. In all honesty, Castiel was a trained EMT that had to deal with heavy lifting on a daily basis and Dean was a man who had atrophy in his dominant arm.

To say that Castiel had let him win was an understatement.

“Dean…” he murmured, relaxing his strained position beneath the other man.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to know that I very much want to kiss you.”

Castiel felt the exact moment that Dean tensed above him, followed by slowly letting go of his arms. “Cas…”

“Wait, Dean--” Castiel sat up as he allowed Dean to rolled off of him, but he couldn’t stand the way he was avoiding looking him in the eyes. He reached out and touched him gently on the knee. “Dean I don’t mean--I’m not going to. Alright? I will never ask you to do that.”

Dean just crossed his legs and stared down at his gloved hands.

“What I meant was… I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to kiss you. I--I want to make sure that you know that… you make me want to be kissed by you.”

This was much more difficult to translate than he’d thought it would be. This would normally be a time where he’d just touch the person and let them feel what he meant, but with things being as they were, he’d have to work with what he had.

Dean looked up slowly and raised an eyebrow. “So… you want me to know… that you’re attracted to me?”

Castiel smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Exactly.”

The other man rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That was probably the most roundabout way you could have possibly said that.”

“Most likely.” Castiel flushed for what was probably the hundredth time that night. “Now, if this seems like an abrupt change of subject you’d be correct, but I believe you mentioned stargazing?”

It wasn’t quite dark enough for the entire night sky to be seen, but some of the brightest stars were currently visible and if they stayed out for another hour, they’d have enough to look at to qualify it as stargazing.  

“Right. The incredibly sappy part.” Dean grinned and maneuvered himself so he was laying down right next to Castiel on the blanket. Castiel repeated the gesture after taking a few moments to brush off some stray crackers, and rested his cheek against Dean’s shoulder as they stared up into the night sky.

It seemed like an unspoken agreement that neither of them were going to speak as they lay there, not that Castiel would have been able to hear anyway; but enough was said between the two of them as Dean wound his gloved fingers through Castiel’s, and squeezed tightly.

Chapter Text

Hearing the term “walking on clouds” had always seemed like such an abstract term to Dean, but he could almost feel the atmosphere thin around him because of how high he felt. It had been…a long time since he’d felt this way about someone. Since someone made him want to feel this way.

Cas was… amazing… and Dean was trying his hardest to feel like he deserved him.

Honestly, he wondered if he ever would.

Dean sighed as he pushed his way into the building where Charlie kept her practice. Thinking about those issues weren’t going to help him right now, and was only going to distract him from apologizing to Charlie.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the counter and smiling at the secretary. “Is there any way I could talk to Charlie soon?”

The brunette looked up with bright blue eyes that reminded him a lot of Cas’s, if he was being honest. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, uh, no.” he rubbed at the back of his head awkwardly. “I just need to talk to her. If she has any free time or something… that would be great.”

The secretary--Jenna, according to her nametag--smiled at him in understanding. “She’s currently in a session, but I’ll let her know when she comes out.”

Dean smiled coyly. “Didn’t she already come out?”

Jenna raised an eyebrow as she returned the smile. “She sure did,” she murmured, turning back to her computer. “You can go ahead and take a seat. This session should be done soon.”

Dean did as he was told and didn’t have to wait longer than five minutes before Charlie appeared in the doorway, ushering out a teenage girl.

“And remember to keep up those exercises at home! I can tell if you don’t do them. I really can. I’m psychic.”  

The girl waved as she left and Charlie sighed, only to turn at the sound of a throat clearing from behind the desk.

“Hey babe.” Charlie grinned and walked over to the desk, pulling the secretary in for a brief kiss. “How can I help you?”

Jenna flushed and pointed over to Dean who gave a smug little wave in their direction. He cleared his throat as Charlie’s face fell a little.

“Uh, hey Charlie. I was hoping we could… you know, talk?” he asked hesitantly.

Much to her credit, Charlie remained smiling as she walked over and sat down in the chair next to him. “Yeah, of course. Look, I want to say sorry for--”

Dean shook his head and held up a hand to stop her. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, okay? It was something that I probably should have told you from the beginning seeing as you were my therapist and stuff and it wasn’t fair that you had to see that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Charlie waved her hand dismissively. “It just sucks that you had to go through it. I’ll make sure I take precautions and stuff in the future. Sound good?”

Dean nodded, grateful that the conversation had been a pretty simple one. Nothing was better than coming up with three different scenarios of how badly a conversation could end, only to have it go down really simply.

“Alright, well, if that’s everything I’ll see you on--”

“Actually, um. There is something else.” Dean looked down at his hands in embarrassment and cleared his throat before making eye contact again. “Is there any way you could uh… I don’t know… teach me sign language? Or at least help me out? Google can only get me so far and I know you’re really good and you taught yourself really fast… ”

Charlie’s smile widened as Dean’s rambling trailed off. “Aww. You liiiike him.”

Dean blushed but refused to duck his head. “We did go on a pretty successful date, so I’d hope so,” he murmured.

There was an indignant gasp from Charlie. “Cas never told me that! What a jerk. I’m going to demand another twenty dollars for that sin.”

“Charlie. Focus.”

“Right.” She winked and held out a hand, signing Yes.

Thank you.

Dean chewed on his lip and took a deep breath. “I want to make this as easy on him as possible. I know I’m not… ideal so I just thought--”

Charlie frowned. “I’m going to stop you right there, Dean. First off, if you’ve got a friend that’s deaf, learning sign language isn’t just a nice thing to do, it’s pretty damn necessary. I’m still angry with that Balthazar friend of his that has known Cas for years and hasn’t bothered because he can sometimes just touch him to get his point across.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway. I’m just trying to say that you don’t need to do this to make yourself more appealing. He already likes the crap out of you. Learn it because you’re a decent human being with a deaf friend. Plus it’s really fun.”

Dean nodded slowly, taking a moment to process what she said. “Yeah. You’re right. I guess I’m still just getting used to it.” Just like he was getting used to sign language.

Charlie grinned and clapped her hand on his shoulder. “Neither of you are broken, okay? Just remember that.”

“Right.”

“Good. Now let’s see what we can do about teaching those hands some magic and I swear to God, Dean. Do not turn that into a dirty joke.”

Dean just winked and turned back to Jenna. “Oh hey, I forgot. I’m supposed to let you know that you’re a lesbian.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Oh I know.”

***

You’re getting a lot better.

Dean couldn’t help the pleased smile that crossed his face when Castiel’s image signed from on the computer screen.

Thank you. I’ve been practicing. The hardest part about sign language for him was that it wasn’t an exact science. There was apparently not really a structure, from what he could tell on google. But you usually can get your point across by pairing words together and have context do most of the work for you. That is, if he could do this right.

Dean took a moment to adjust the computer a little farther back on the bed so that the camera could get his entire torso instead of just his face. How was work today? Anything exciting happen?

Castiel shook his head and took a bite out of the sandwich that he’d made himself for dinner. Dean had called just in time to watch him make it while the laptop had been set on the counter. Not really. We played poker. Anna’s getting better and I think I’m getting worse.

You can get worse??

Castiel rolled his eyes and flipped him off, a gesture that Dean knew better than anything in sign language.

The most exciting thing that happened was a false alarm. We’re also waiting to see how long it will take Balthazar to realize that Anna is cheating to help me win every once in awhile.

Dean squinted his eyes in concentration. That was long. Repeat it slower.

Castiel complied, mouthing the words more prominently along with his hand movements.

Dean laughed and leaned back against his headboard.

What about you? Castiel asked. Did you email that record company back at all?

Yeah. Dean dejectedly let out a breath of air. Told them to let me know if anything opens up again. He’d just have to practice his ass off until he got the call. It’s a long shot but it’s all I got. Maybe I’ll start playing in cafes again.

Castiel’s cat took that opportunity to stick her head in front of the camera curiously and walk across the keyboard. Dean chuckled and waved at her as Castiel plopped her down next to him instead of letting her live in the limelight.

What’s her name again?

H-A-N-N-A-H.

Castiel gave him a half smile, knowing full well that Dean was allergic.

If you ever do decide to do a show, let me know. I’d love to come watch.

Dean shrugged. Okay. But it probably won’t be much. Oh! He remembered what he wanted to tell Cas a while back. Sam told me he’s planning on visiting again next week.

J-E-S-S?

Dean nodded. J-E-S-S.

I’m happy they’re working out.

Castiel finished off the last of his sandwich and tried in vain to cover up a yawn.

Are you tired? Dean asked, checking his clock and realizing it was kind of late. They’d been on Skype together for a few hours now without even noticing. Well, Dean hadn’t noticed.

No no, I’m fine. Castiel waved a hand but looked like he was stifling another yawn.  

Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically. What time did your shift start today?

Castiel immediately busied himself with petting his cat, making Dean wave his hands in front of the webcam in order to his attention again.

Six in the morning. He finally signed with a sigh. But now you’re going to tell me to sleep.

Yes! You need sleep!

Castiel yawned widely before finally finally relenting. Okay. You’re right. Goodnight, Dean.

Goodnight. Dean repeated.

He brought his hands up again and hesitated. Shit.

He couldn’t sign that. He wasn’t ready.

Dean just licked his lips and waved before “Call Ended” appeared on the screen. Groaning, Dean shut the laptop and threw an arm over his face.

How fucking domestic.

***

Last week Charlie had sent Dean home with a few exercises to do on his own, which was pretty great because he didn’t feel like a complete idiot when he was alone. Some of the things she made him do had him wonder if it was just to see if he’d be dumb enough to do it. Cas should have gotten off work about an hour ago and, to be honest, he was expecting a text from him soon. That was generally the procedure, now.

Stretch out, and bring the arm back in. Out, and back in.

The intense screaming that had been such a prevalent presence in his mind for years had mellowed to an annoying hum in the past few months. Sometimes he even forgot about it completely, which was a miracle in and of itself.

Dean groaned as the doorbell rang, sitting up and wiping at his neck. It was probably Cas. He either left something last time he was over or… maybe he just wanted to come over to see him. The thought made Dean smile as he walked over to yank it open.

It wasn’t Cas.

Dean froze when he saw John Winchester staring back at him.

“Well?” he asked gruffly. “Aren’t you gonna invite your old man inside?”

Dean swallowed as he stepped aside, hating how easily he went into ‘obedient son’ mode.

“Not bad,” John murmured, looking around at Dean’s small apartment, nodding his approval. John was a lot older than the last time he’d seen him. Grey hairs were more prevalent now, as was the limp in his step that he’d brought back from the Marines. “Not bugged, is it?”

“No.” Dean shook his head. Of course it was too much to hope that his father had disappeared for a few years and come back sane. A sense of dread sunk low in his gut at the sight of his father’s exposed hands. Backing up just slightly, he swallowed back his slowly rising terror. Without making too big of a deal of it, Dean tugged at his sleeves with his gloved hands, making sure his wrists were covered.

John turned and raised an eyebrow. “No, what?”

“No, sir.” Dean gritted out, his back straightening automatically.

His father nodded but still seemed to be scanning the area for any signs of surveillance.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

John shrugged noncommittally. “Thought it was about time I checked up on you. I got word that you were in the hospital a while back and you weren’t at the last two addresses I had for you.” He looked over at his son pointedly.

“Yeah. I’ve moved for work.”

“Good. Moving a lot is good.” He nodded his head in approval, “Makes it harder for them to find you.”

Again, Dean had absolutely no idea who this ‘them’ was or why the hell they’d want to find him.

“I noticed that fancy motorbike you got out front.” John jerked a thumb behind him, abruptly changing the subject. “Where’s the Impala?”

The dread he felt previously sank even lower as he realized he was going to have to tell his father that he hadn’t managed to take care of the one material thing he’d left behind.

“It’s… at the mechanic,” he lied.

John turned around slowly and raised an eyebrow skeptically. “The mechanic? You can fix that thing yourself. I’ve seen you do it.”

He shrugged. “Haven’t had time, I guess.”

“You telling me the truth, boy? This doesn’t have anything to do with that hospital stay does it?”

He swallowed. “No sir.”

“What have you been busy with? Playing that guitar?” John scoffed and waved a hand at the guitar case in the corner, walking around the room slowly and inspecting just about everything. “Waste of time, if you ask me.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. His world felt a little tighter around his lungs, like there was less oxygen in the room than there should be. It had started from the moment he saw his father’s face again and  apparently it wasn’t going to be going away. Waste of time? He’d been offered a contract. A contract. That is no small feat, especially considering his beginnings with the instrument. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. Not anymore.

He deserved better.

“I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” John asked glancing over his shoulder from where he’d been studying Dean’s couch.

Dean took a step forward and clenched his gloved fists. “I didn’t ask you.”

All of this--how he was, how he reacted, his fears, his insecurities--were his dad’s fault. This man standing in front of him.

And he wasn’t going to let him do it anymore.

Dean had come to this city to start a new life, doing something that he loved, and now he had people that he loved with him. And the last thing he wanted was for it to be ruined again.

John matched his step and stuck out a hand, squinting suspiciously. “Let’s get this over with, huh? Take off those ridiculous gloves and shake your father’s hand like a man.”

“No.”

Dean could see his father’s face growing red with anger.

“Do it, Dean.”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “Dad, I want you to leave. You’re not welcome here.”

John’s outstretched hand turned into a fist. Dean could almost see the thoughts that were whirring in his mind and the incredible scenarios that it was going to come up with to rationalize this difference.

“Who was it, huh? Who got to you? Who turned you against me?”

“Dad, no one got to me! There’s no one after you! Mom’s death was an accident!”

Dean took a step back and John took another one forward in an attempt to intimidate him. “I’ll find out who it was. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll get my son back.”

“I am your son. And I don’t want you in my life anymore.” He reached behind him and yanked the door back open. “Please leave.”

For a moment, John stood, breathing heavily and looked like he had no plans to move from his spot. “Fine.” he spat. “But I’ll find out, Dean. I’ll get the real you back.”

He marched out the door, despite Dean flinching as he walked past.

Dean shut it with shaking hands and collapsed against the doorframe with his head in his arms.

The screaming returned with a vengeance.

Chapter Text

The lights in Castiel’s home flashed, signifying that someone was at the door. That was odd. He wasn’t expecting anyone over, and the ‘No Soliciting’ sign he had over his doorbell was usually enough to make any unwanted visitors leave.

He peeked through the window and immediately opened it when he saw Dean.

“Dean?” he asked, as he came tumbling in.

“Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Castiel quickly closed the door and looked over at Dean, worried. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Dean sat down on the couch, breathing heavily and looking on the edge of another panic attack. “Dean, just breathe. Alright. Breathe.”

“I’m okay,” he said through deep breaths. “Just give me second.”

Castiel nodded and rubbed at his shoulder soothingly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“My, uh. My dad came to visit.” he said, just barely able to lift his head up for Cas to read his lips.

Dread immediately sank into Castiel’s gut. “Your father? What did he want?”

“To talk. Check up on me. I dunno. He tried to shake my hand and he had that… look in his eyes. I kicked him out and came here. I’m sorry. I’m just--”

He closed his eyes and dropped his head into Castiel’s lap as he began to rub his back soothingly. “It’s alright, Dean. It’s alright.”

I know. He signed, now that his face was turned away. Thank you, Cas.

Castiel continued to try and comfort him until he felt the ragged breathing slowly give way to a normal rhythm.

Dean rotated on the couch so that he could rest his head comfortably on Castiel’s legs and smile up at him and all Castiel wanted to do was run his hands through his hair. Maybe he’d get a thin pair of gloves sometime soon specifically for that purpose, but for now he was content to wind his fingers through Dean’s gloved ones.

“Your microwave is flashing.” Dean said with a smirk.

Ah. That would be his microwavable dinner. He hadn’t had the energy to make something substantial.

He chuckled and allowed Dean to lift his head up and retracted his hand so that he could turn the light off. “Give me a moment.”

The light to the microwave was indeed flashing. He quickly pulled out what was probably going to be an unfulfilling meal and set it on the counter.

“Dean, do you want anything?” he called as he walked back to the living room, ready to read his answer. To his surprise, the front door was wide open, causing a small breeze to blow by him. Dean was on his feet, yelling at another man who had apparently let himself in.

“Dean?” he said slowly, looking between the two of them as they both turned towards him.

“Is this the guy?” The stranger yelled, pointing a furious finger in Castiel’s direction.

“No!” Dean countered. “Dad, there’s no one! Did you follow me?”

Castiel frowned when he realized who this was in his home. There was definitely a likeness between the man and Dean, but it was as if Dean had taken all of the good qualities from him and nothing else.

“Mr. Winchester, I need to ask you to leave.”

The man sneered at him and shook his head. “I need to get my boy back, and you’re not going to stop me.”

Castiel took a few steps forward despite Dean yelling something at him. It was almost impossible to read lips with peripheral vision, and he needed to get between Dean and his father before the older man tried anything that Dean had told him about. “Mr. Winchester, I know that you’re a very sick man who needs help. But if you don’t vacate the premises--”

“Fuck you, pretty boy.” John lunged forward and before Castiel could react, he felt something sharp slide into his side.

In all honesty, it didn’t hurt much until the knife was pulled back out, and then it was a dull pain that quickly began to escalate.

John was shoved away from him as Castiel looked down at the red spot on his shirt. He’d just been stabbed. Right. Stabbing. Pressure. He was about to lose a lot of blood unless he put pressure on the wound. Half of his brain immediately went into medical mode while the other started to go into a frenzy like his instincts were telling him to. Castiel dropped to the ground and covered the red spot with his hands. Dean was kneeling above him looking panicked.

“Cas!”

“Dean. It’s okay. Stay calm. I need you to listen to me.”

Dean nodded, but looked no less calm, though John seemed to have fled into the night. He couldn’t be sure.

“Go grab some rags from the kitchen and press them on the wound. I’m going to start losing strength quickly. Call 911.”

“Okay.”

Blood was quickly seeping through his fingers by the time Dean ran back to him and pressed the kitchen towels to his side. Castiel gritted his teeth at the initial touch and gasped at the pressure. “It’s alright,” he said, trying to keep his voice at least somewhat calm when Dean’s hands hesitated. “Dean, I--” his vision started to get blurry and he could no longer read Dean’s lips. “I’m going to pass out soon. Stay-- stay calm.” he was sure that his voice was getting more slurred than usual. “Keep the….keep the pressure…”

“Wait, Cas!”

A warm and comforting mind brushed against his own and enveloped him closely when he felt a soft hand on his face.

“Dean, don’t. You don’t have to.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.”  he nodded along with his thought. Dean had a lovely voice. Deep and soft. “Keep the pressure on until they get here… and just… I think I love you.”

No.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

He didn’t mean to think that.

Castiel slipped into unconsciousness before he could explain.

***

“Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it could have been. The knife missed any major internal organs and you treated it exactly the way that it should have been treated. He was lucky to have you there.”

Dean wiped at his eyes, wishing he could do the same to the guilt that was eating him up on the inside.

“If I hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have happened anyway.”

The nurse tutted at him.

“I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’ll tell you that this is the fault of the man that the police arrested.”

“My dad.”

“Still wasn’t you.”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, still hating that it was his own father that had done this. Here he was, back at a hospital but in a circumstance he dreaded much more than being stuck in a bed and being fed bad hospital food.

Someone he loved was suffering.

Again.

He turned when he heard a small groan from the bed.

“Cas!” he exclaimed, kneeling down in front of the bed. He waited until his eyes were open and blinking.

How are you feeling? he signed, hoping that Castiel was oriented enough to understand what he was saying.

Castiel lifted his arms, then dropped them, apparently too weak to sign. “Like a pincushion.” he murmured, arching his back and stretching his arms.

Dean grimaced. Cas, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I should have known that he might have followed me.

“Dean, it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. You shouldn’t either.”

Dean looked over at the nurse and jerked his head a little, hoping that she’d get the hint to leave them alone.

The nurse nodded and left as Dean turned back to Cas, who seemed to be getting a little more lucid.

“I’m alive, Dean. I’m going to live because of you. I’m the one who should be sorry. You touched me.”

Dean just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t terrible. I mean it was, because I thought you were going to die and I just wanted to… ” He reached down and gently stroked Castiel’s hand with his own gloved one. He’d come so close to losing what he cared most in the world about and that had been more terrifying than any other moment in his life. But even with that… “Cas… I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready. I might be okay one day but I’m just not right now.”

Castiel smiled and stared up at him. “I’m okay with that.”

“Like, I really might never want to touch. Ever. Ideally, I’d like to. I’d love to have that with you and be able to share thoughts and feeling so fucking easily, but it also terrifies me a little and I--”

Castiel squeezed his gloved hand reassuringly. “Dean. I said I’m okay with that. I love being with you. I love everything we do together without it.”

I’m just glad you’re okay. Dean attempted to sign with one hand. He took a deep breath, overwhelmed with how consistently he was reminded of how amazing Castiel was and how lucky he was to be a part of his life.

“I uh, have something for you.”

Castiel sat up and looked over at him curiously.

Dean walked over and pulled out a roll of saran wrap, holding it in front of him in embarrassment as Castiel’s eyes softened.

“Pushing Daisies.”

Dean nodded and pulled a good sized piece from the roll even though his hands were shaking just a little.

I think I love you too, Cas. He signed, right before leaning over and pressing his lips to Castiel’s through the thin lining.

It was plasticy, smelled a little weird, felt ridiculous and was absolutely, one hundred percent worth it.

“Well, that’s probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever walked in on.”

Balthazar was leaning against the doorway with Jess standing behind him.

Dean sat up with an embarrassed smile. “Hey, Balthazar.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed. “You two have met?”

Balthazar grimaced and held up two fingers. “Twice. Once when he was dying and once when you were dying. Never do that to me again, by the way. I hate arriving to a call and having it be my best friend.”

In fact, Balthazar had very nearly lost his cool completely when he showed up to the scene with Dean nearly crying as he held pressure on the wound. They’d had a long time to talk once Cas had been stabilized.

“Duly noted,” he murmured, “I’m afraid that you’re stuck with me.”

Balthazar shuffled awkwardly.

“What?” Both Dean and Castiel spoke in tandem.

He threw up his hands in obvious frustration. “Naomi is… already trying to use this to get you off the team again.”

“Are you fu--” Dean clenched his fists together. “Seriously? She’s going to try and get him iced because of this? I swear I will--”

There was a small amount of pressure on his hand that grabbed his attention.

“Dean. It’s alright.” Castiel murmured.

“Cas it’s not--”

“Hush. I care about two things right now. Sleep--” He looked up at Dean affectionately, “And you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to test out that saran wrap again.”

Dean sighed, but happily obliged.

Chapter Text

“Now that we’ve gone over the events, Castiel, I’d like to ask you a few personal questions.” Naomi was tapping her pen against the table as she spoke and Castiel was more than grateful that he couldn’t hear it, seeing as it looked like the sound of it was aggravating her other colleague.

Castiel looked over at the interpreter that they’d brought in to translate the proceedings for him, seeing as touch seemed to be far too intimate a gesture for an informal professional hearing and they needed to guarantee that they could understand each other.

“And will personal questions help dictate whether or not I’m proficient at my job?” he asked, trying to keep his tone polite.

Naomi’s professional smile tightened. “Is it true that you are now in a relationship with someone that you treated a few months ago?”

Castiel waited until the translator had finished, though he’d read most of the question from her lips. “That’s correct, though I don’t see how that has anything to do with my adequacy as an EMT. It’s not as if I romantically pursue everyone I help heal.”

“And is it true that he’s the reason you ended up on medical leave?”

“No.”

Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “But you were at his home when you were attacked.”

“As I’m sure you know, Dean was not the one that attacked me.” Castiel’s patience was wearing thin. “Dean’s father, yes. But none of this has anything to do with my job. I am always on time. I have a good record. I’m sure Balthazar has already told you that I work well with others while you interviewed him. I don’t understand why I’m here.”

Raphael appeared to clear her throat as she turned to her colleague. “I’m inclined to agree with Castiel. The last time we met, I could at least understand your worry. That rollover incident was tricky. But you have no grounds, here. I believe that you’re overstepping your boundaries.”

Naomi had her lips pressed together tightly. “But he--”

“Castiel has an amazing record,” she continued, and Castiel watched the interpreter as he continued to relay the conversation. “Better than most of our hearing EMT’s. So I don’t want to see another inquiry into Castiel’s proficiency unless it’s a very dire situation. Understand?”

Raphael, Naomi and the interpreter all jumped in unison and stared behind Castiel in shock. Castiel turned, only to see that a very angry Anna had blown the door open and seemed to be mid-rant, furiously pointing at the two women.

“--and he’s probably taught me more in my time being on his team than I learned in my entire time in medical school! So I’m sorry if I’m being rude, but this is just so unnecessary and, frankly, ableist, and I won’t stand for--”

“Anna. It’s alright. They’re not inquiring anymore.”

She froze for a moment, looking between him and his superiors before letting her hand fall back to her side. “Oh. Good.”

Castiel turned back around. “Are we done here?” he asked, only standing when Raphael nodded at him.

“Come on Anna, I’ll walk you out.”

As they made their way down the hall, Castiel placed a gentle hand on her wrist. “Thank you for that. I appreciate it.”

Anna smiled brightly and shrugged her shoulders. “I meant it. You’re too important for them to try and get rid of you over something so stupid. Or at all, really.”

“I’m glad to have you on our team, Anna. You’re an asset.” He squeezed her hand affectionately.  “And not just because you have a remarkably fearsome defense.”

She nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “And don’t you forget it. So when do you get off medical leave?”

Castiel instinctively brought one hand up to where the knife had slid into his side. While the wound had not been without its complications, he’d been relatively lucky when it came to the place he’d been stabbed, and most of the major organs had been missed. Surgery had still been needed to do some patchwork, and he’d been forced to stay in hospital care for a month; he now understood why Dean had been so ready to leave the place during his stay.

Dean.

Castiel smiled.

He’d brought him food in a brown paper sack every single day.

“I’ve still got another week before I’m allowed back at work, and even then I may not be able to do heavy lifting. We’re playing it by ear.”

Anna grimaced as they reached the exit. “Guess I won’t see you tonight, then.”

Castiel shook his head. “Ah. No. I’m having… guests over for dinner.”

“Guests?”

“Yes. Dean, his brother, and his brother’s girlfriend are all going to be present.”

Anna nudged him again. “Nervous?”

“A little.”

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry too much.”

She wriggled her way out of Castiel’s grip and waved. “I’ve got to go, but good luck tonight! Can’t wait for you to come back into the fray.”

Castiel returned the wave and exhaled deeply.

If only he had Anna’s courage.

***

Luckily for him, Dean had offered to come over early and help him make dinner, though Castiel was fairly sure it was all a plot to make sure dinner had nothing with tuna in it.

When he arrived, Dean’s motorbike was already parked out front, insinuating that Dean had already let himself inside with the key he’d had made for him a while ago.

“Dean?” he called when he stepped inside the house. “Are you here?”

Right on cue, Dean popped his head around the corner from where he was located in the kitchen. Welcome home! he signed, I’m just getting the burgers cooked. Did you get that bullshit inquiry thrown out?

Castiel nodded. Yes. I don’t think it will be happening ever again. He smiled and wrapped his arms carefully around Dean’s waist in a lingering hug before stepping back again. How was your day?

Amazing.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. Go on.

Dean licked his lips and Castiel watched his eyes light up excitedly. I got a call from the record company. They’re expanding and have another spot for a guitarist.

Castiel’s eyes widened. And you--

I’m going in on Friday to work out a contract. Dean’s hands were shaking as he signed the news. I’m going to have to call Charlie and thank her for everything.

Dean I’m so proud of you. Castiel signed with a brilliant smile on his face.

Thanks. For everything. Dean glanced at Castiel’s lips and heaved a disappointed sigh. We’re out of saran wrap again.

Castiel laughed. He’d have to grab some more tomorrow while he was doing some shopping.

Come on. He grabbed an apron from off of his hook and put it on gracefully. Let’s finish up those burgers before Sam and Jess arrive.

***

The night went by splendidly.

Jess was as cheeky as ever.

Sam was always interesting to talk to.

Jess joked about taking care of both Dean and Cas in the hospital.

Sam mentioned that he was looking at veterinary work nearby.

Dean spent a good amount of the time playing translator for Castiel just to get the practice in, much to Castiel’s appreciation. Dean was doing leaps and bounds better with his sign language once he’d started having Charlie’s help. Castiel hadn’t known for a while why Dean was suddenly improving more quickly than normal until he’d finally admitted to consulting her.

The night went by quickly.

The meal was eaten and dessert consumed and before he knew it, they were already waving goodbye at the doorway.

As much as Castiel enjoyed the presence of Sam and Jess, nothing was better than getting to have Dean all to himself.

The two of them climbed into Castiel’s bed and decided who would be sacrificing what, tonight. Castiel wore pyjama pants and long socks, while Dean wore his gloves and a long sleeved shirt. It wasn’t a perfect system, and definitely not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it worked for them. Castiel wrapped an arm around Dean’s middle and sighed against him, his forehead pressed into his back.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you… how has the screaming been recently?”

Dean was still for a moment before shuffling to face Castiel.

It’s still there, he signed, gazing at the other man affectionately.

But it’s so much quieter around you.