Chapter Text
Gabriel leaned against the wall outside OR 5, arms crossed, chewing absently on the end of a capped pen. Through the window, he could see Castiel still at the operating table, calmly instructing Jack on closure technique.
Jack’s hands trembled slightly as he held the needle driver. Castiel’s voice didn’t waver once.
“Not there. A little more lateral. Good. Try again.”
Gabriel watched. Frowned.
Jack was green, no doubt. But that wasn’t what stood out. What stood out was Castiel’s tone — patient, measured. He didn’t use that tone with anyone else. Hell, Gabriel had assisted on aneurysm clippings and barely gotten more than a grunt and a nod. And he’s the senior one out of the two of them.
Cas was… soft.
And Jack? Jack was hanging on every word like a damn golden retriever.
Gabriel tracked the nurses and the residents too. Charlie, especially, had been stiff the whole procedure. She barely looked at Cas, but when she did, her expression was tight. Unimpressed.
Yeah.
The vibe was weird.
He stepped away from the glass and waited until the team had cleared the OR. When Castiel finally stepped out, pulling off his cap, Gabriel fell into step beside him.
“Good work in there,” he said lightly. “Kid didn’t faint. That’s something.”
Castiel didn’t look over. “He’s improving.”
“Uh-huh.”
They walked a few paces. Then Gabriel nudged him gently with his elbow.
“Just a tip, Cas. Tone it down a little with Jack.”
That got his attention.
Castiel turned to him, brows drawn. “Excuse me?”
Gabriel shrugged. “You’re not doing anything wrong, per se. But the way it looks?” He tilted his head. “Not great.”
Castiel frowned. “He’s my intern.”
“Sure,” Gabriel agreed. “And you’re giving him good opportunities. I’m just saying, to other people, it reads… off .”
Castiel’s steps slowed. “Off how?”
Gabriel stopped, gave him a pointed look. “It looks like favoritism. Or worse, if someone’s already bitter and watching too closely.”
Castiel blinked. “Is someone?”
Gabriel didn’t answer. Just smiled faintly. “You’ve been in this field long enough to know perception matters, Cas. Even if it’s unfair.”
Castiel looked away.
Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m just saying — a little distance goes a long way.”
Then he walked off, leaving Cas standing in the corridor, tilting his head like he’d just heard thunder but couldn’t find the lightning.
Dean rolled his stiff shoulder as he stepped out of OR 4, the remnants of a brutal comminuted femur fracture still weighing on him. Benny had already clocked out, leaving him to finish up the last of the case notes and grab his gear.
He was just about to head to the lockers when a flash of movement across the hall made him stop.
Jack.
Of course it was Jack.
The kid was trotting down the corridor with two coffees in hand, still in scrubs, hair a little wild from being shoved under a cap too long.
And he was heading straight for him.
No. Not for Dean.
For Castiel.
Cas had just emerged from the hallways, scrolling through something on his tablet, sleeves pushed up. Jack stopped in front of him, holding one of the coffees up like a peace offering.
“Long night ahead,” Jack said with a smile as they walked past Dean in the lounge.
Dean stopped in his track.
Castiel looked up — tired, but softened. He took the coffee with a small nod. “Thank you, Jack.”
Dean watched it happen in slow motion. Cas’s hand resting briefly on Jack’s arm. A gentle squeeze.
It wasn’t much. Barely a second.
But it made Dean’s stomach twist.
He didn’t realize Gabriel was behind him until a voice cut the tension.
“You have a very prominent temporal and facial vein ,” Gabriel said casually. “I should call the interns and use you as a live anatomy model.”
Dean didn’t respond. Didn’t laugh.
He kept his eyes on them as he bent down, picked up his duffel bag from the floor — only to drop it again when Jack’s voice drifted back to him:
“Maybe we should reschedule tonight. You have two more surgeries, right? I’ll just head back first.”
The click in Dean’s brain was instantaneous.
Tonight.
Cas didn’t correct him. Didn’t say what they had planned. Just gave a small nod, tired and trusting.
Dean’s grip tightened on the bag handle. His jaw locked. Breath sharp.
That was it.
He crossed the floor towards the door in three long strides.
“Dr. Novak,” he said, voice low and clipped. “We need to talk. Now.”
Jack blinked, startled. Castiel turned toward him slowly, confused.
Dean didn’t wait for either of them to speak. He yanked the lounge door open and stood aside.
“ Now .”
Jack looked worried. “Is… everything okay?”
Castiel handed him the coffee back. “Go back first.”
Dean didn’t wait to make sure. The moment Cas stepped out of the lounge, Dean followed and closed the door behind them.
Dean led Castiel to a secluded area. A familiar spot only both of them know. Near the unused inventory room that no one ever goes to.
Castiel’s heart raced. Dean couldn’t be— But this is where they did it most of the time.
When they turned at the corridor shaped like letter L, Dean spinned on his heels and didn’t waste time.
“You need to be more professional in the hospital,” he snapped.
Castiel blinked. “What?”
Dean stepped forward, just short of invading space. “You’re being sloppy. Touchy. Giving him special treatment. Don’t think people haven’t noticed.”
Cas tilted his head, clearly thrown. Then Gabriel’s words surfaced once again. To other people, it reads… off. If someone’s already bitter and watching too closely.
“Are you… referring to Jack?”
“Of course I am,” Dean bit out. “Who else? I have to say Cas, I know your sexual appetite is the size of a black hole, but I didn’t know you couldn’t keep it in your pants! I never thought you’d stoop that low.”
Castiel’s brows drew in. “Dean—”
“You think just because you could buy me , it makes it okay?” Dean pushed. “You think that gives you a free pass to prey on some wide-eyed kid who doesn’t know any better?”
The words hit like stones. Castiel recoiled slightly. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s a fucking kid , Cas.” Dean’s voice cracked around the edges now, bitter heat leaking out. “You don’t get to have him on his knees sucking you off just because he needs money. That’s not mentoring. That’s prostitution! ”
Castiel looked like he’d been slapped. “ What?! Are you out of your—”
“No, you’re out of your damn mind!” Dean yelled, the anger rising, finally uncaged. “He’s nineteen! Nineteen , you disgusting pervert! And you’re all over him in the middle of the hospital like this is some goddamn romance movie!”
Castiel was frozen, staring at him like the world had tilted.
Dean didn’t stop.
“Do you even care how that’ll affect him?” Dean hissed. “He’s a kid. You want him branded as Dr. Novak’s little whore ? You wanna drag him down like you did with me?”
Castiel opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Dean turned on his heel.
“I’m warning you, Cas,” he spat. “Don’t use him the way you used me.”
He stomped his way back towards the lounge.
But Castiel stepped forward, catching his wrist. “Dean. Stop. I don’t know how you got this idea, but it’s not like that. Jack—”
Dean yanked his arm free, eyes blazing. “I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t need your excuses.”
His voice was shaking now. His eyes stung.
He vanished without looking back.
Dean stormed down the corridor with his duffel slung over his shoulder, fury still buzzing under his skin. The confrontation replayed in fragments behind his eyes — Cas’s stunned face, the sound of his own voice cracking. He needed to get out. Needed air.
He rounded the corner into the main lobby — and of course, the universe had one more hit queued up.
“Dr. Winchester?”
Dean stopped.
Jack Kline stood near the taxi booth just before the main entrance, hands wrapped around a half-empty coffee cup. He looked up, blinking fast, and gave a tentative smile.
Dean didn’t return it.
Jack stepped forward a little. “Is everything alright with Dr. Novak?” he asked, head tilted in that same subtle way Cas did when confused. “He looked… I don’t know. Shaken?”
Dean’s jaw ticked.
Jack went on, still gentle. “He’s always kind of jumpy when you’re around. Like earlier, when he saw you in the lounge? He tensed up immediately. I thought for a second he might drop his coffee.” Jack gave a soft, nervous laugh. “It’s almost kind of… cute?”
That word landed like a slap.
Dean’s eyes snapped to him.
Cute.
Jack blinked, realizing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean— I mean, it’s probably none of my business—”
Dean gave a small, cold chuckle. “You’ve been watching him pretty closely.”
Jack paused. “Well… I guess I’ve just noticed a few things. Little things. I don’t think he realizes how obvious he can be sometimes.”
Dean squinted at him. “What are you saying?”
Jack hesitated — then just smiled, trying to sound casual. “Nothing. Just that… maybe you’re important to him. That’s all.”
Dean stared for a second too long. Then gave a tight, humorless smile.
“I get it.”
Jack blinked. “Get what?”
Dean took a slow breath. “You’re jealous.”
Jack’s face screwed up, confused. “Wait, no—what?”
“You don’t need to feel threatened,” Dean said, voice smooth and bitter. “Whatever you’ve got going with him? It’s fine. I’m not getting in the way.”
Jack looked genuinely startled. “Dr. Winchester, that’s not—”
Dean stepped in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Let me give you some advice, Jack. Be careful around Dr. Novak.”
Jack’s brows drew together. “Sorry?”
Dean shrugged like it didn’t matter. “He’s not as good of a person as you think he is.”
Jack opened his mouth, but Dean had already turned and walked out, leaving the boy blinking under the hospital lights, stunned and alone.
Dean let himself in the house, door closing with a low click behind him. He didn’t bother turning on more lights — the soft orange glow from the hallway was enough. He dropped his duffel by the door and stood there for a moment, just breathing.
He felt like he’d just walked out of a car crash.
Sam was still up, sitting on the old couch with a laptop open and a half-eaten sandwich on the table beside him. He looked up the second Dean stepped inside.
“You’re late.”
Dean rubbed at his face and moved toward the couch. “Yeah. Long shift.”
“You eat?”
“Not hungry.”
Sam didn’t say anything to that. Just shut his laptop and watched his brother lower himself onto the other end of the couch like gravity had finally won.
Dean leaned forward, elbows on knees. Didn’t speak.
Sam broke the silence. “Rough day?”
Dean gave a bitter laugh. “You could say that.”
Sam hesitated, then asked, “Was it Cas?”
Dean didn’t look up. “I said it was a long shift.”
“Dean—”
“Don’t.”
Another beat of silence. The fan hummed louder.
Sam tried again, quieter this time. “Look, I’m not trying to pry. I just…” He sighed. “I know you. And I know that whatever this is couldn’t possibly just be something in the OR.”
Dean was silent for too long.
Sam continued, “Did you talk to him?”
Dean gave a small, grim nod. “Yeah.”
“And?”
Dean rubbed his eyes. “And he’s… just proving me right, that’s all.”
“About what?”
Dean hesitated. Then: “Jack.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You still think something’s going on between them?”
“I don’t think , Sam. I saw it.”
“What did you see?”
Dean’s voice tightened. “The kid brings him coffee. Touches on the arm. Always with him. Cas lets him scrub in when other interns don’t even get close. And tonight—he said they had plans. Like, outside the hospital.”
Sam processed that. “Dean… that still doesn’t mean—”
“He’s nineteen, Sam.”
“It’s young, I get it. But, he’s legal.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It kind of is,” Sam said. “Because if what you’re accusing Cas of is what I think you’re accusing him of—”
Dean cut him off, sharp: “I’m not accusing him of anything. I’m just saying I know what it looks like. ”
“Do you?”
Dean looked up then, finally meeting his brother’s eyes.
Sam’s voice was even. “You sure this isn’t about something else?”
Dean stiffened. “Like what?”
Sam hesitated. Then: “Like maybe… you caught feelings.”
Dean blinked.
Sam quickly added, “I’m not judging. I just—if this is about you feeling hurt—”
“It’s not,” Dean said. Too fast. Too flat. “It’s not that.”
Sam studied him, frowning. “Because if it is …”
Dean stood up suddenly. “It’s not,” he said again, heading toward the hallway. “Don’t make it something it’s not.”
Sam stayed seated. Quietly: “Just make sure you’re not blowing something up because you’re scared it might’ve mattered to you.”
Dean didn’t answer. He disappeared down the hall.
The door to his room shut with a quiet click.
Sam sat alone, staring into the dark.
He didn’t believe the lie — not for a second.
Castiel’s head was going to explode.
He’d barely made it through the confrontation with Dean, barely scrubbed in without replaying every word— Jack’s just a kid , you think you can buy him like you bought me —and now he was standing in OR 5, elbow-deep in a thoracotomy, trying to pretend his entire personal life hadn’t just caught fire. He needed to clear the misunderstanding. Desperately . He needed to pull Dean aside, explain, do something —but instead, he was here, operating. Again. The patient couldn’t wait, and Castiel couldn’t justify walking away, no matter how loudly his mind screamed for damage control. His concentration was hanging by a thread.
And then Gabriel couldn’t wait another time to annoy the hell out of him.
It started with a snort.
Castiel didn’t hear it at first — he was focused, precise, mid-dissection around a thoracic mass. Surgical focus. Clean lines. Steady breath.
But then again — snrrkk — from the other side of the table.
Castiel didn’t look up. “ Gabriel .”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you here?”
His face was covered with a mask, but it’s evident that he’s grinning from ear to ear with from his voice alone. “Doing my part for the overworked. Consider it a mercy shift.”
“This is a closed OR.”
“And yet here I am,” Gabriel said, as if summoned by divine will rather than his own meddling.
Cas shot him a warning glance. Gabriel winked. Charlie, assisting across the table, visibly rolled her eyes behind her goggles.
By the time they were halfway through the first surgery, Gabriel was openly giggling at seemingly nothing. He remained clear from the sterile zone, but remained a distraction for the OR team. He fumbled an unsterile clamp. He swayed to the playlist. He whispered something about "penetrating incisions" and cackled at his own joke.
Charlie, who was trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism, muttered under her breath to Cas, “If I inject midazolam into his neck, will it count as medical homicide?”
Cas grunted. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Gabriel looked delighted to be the problem.
They managed to close up without killing anyone — though it was a near thing — and Castiel scrubbed out while Charlie prepped the second case.
Gabriel, of course, stayed.
“Seriously?” Castiel asked, walking back in to find Gabriel still present and still vibrating with barely contained amusement.
“Come on,” Gabriel said. “You can’t tell me this place isn’t better with me in it.”
Charlie shot him a glare. “I swear to God, if you knock another tray over—”
Castiel held up a gloved hand. “That’s enough. Gabriel, out .”
Gabriel put a hand to his chest, faux-offended. “Throwing me out? You wound me.”
“You’re a distraction,” Castiel said firmly. “And someone will stab you. Possibly me.”
Gabriel sighed, dramatically peeling off his gloves. “Fine. But on one condition.”
Castiel didn’t dignify it with a response.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” Gabriel said, already backing toward the door, “on the helipad. Come find me when you’re done playing doctor.”
He slipped out before Castiel could tell him to shove it.
Charlie exhaled with audible relief. “Thank God .”
Later — Rooftop, Helipad
The city lights blurred beneath the building like melted gold. A wind cut through the rooftop, sharp and dry.
Castiel stepped out of the stairwell, coat half-buttoned, tie loose.
Gabriel was waiting near the railing, grinning like someone who’d won something.
Castiel didn’t even bother greeting him. “Whatever this is, get it out of your system,” Castiel muttered.
“Trying,” Gabriel wheezed, holding his sides. “But your face—God, the way he— Jesus, Cas—”
Castiel crossed his arms, sighing heavily.
“Alright,” he said. “What the hell is wrong with you? Spill it.”
Gabriel leaned against the railing, smirking. “Didn’t know you were screwing your nephew.”
Castiel’s blood froze.
“What?!”
Gabriel held up both hands, mock innocence. “Just saying what Michael’s golden boy is apparently convinced of.”
Castiel blinked. “You were listening?”
Gabriel’s grin widened. “Oh yeah. Everything. Your favorite anesthesia thinks you’ve got Jack playing intern by day, something else by night.”
Castiel’s jaw dropped. “You— you knew he misunderstood— that —and you said nothing?”
Gabriel didn’t even flinch. “Well, I could have corrected him. But then I would’ve missed that Oscar-worthy meltdown.”
Castiel stared at him, stunned.
Gabriel wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, breathless. “I mean— 'he’s a kid, Cas, you don’t get to have him on his knees’ —I nearly coded, I swear to God.”
Castiel’s face darkened. “This isn’t a joke.”
“Maybe not to you,” Gabriel said, “but from my perspective? Watching Dean spiral over our nephew because he thought you were letting him do… favors in exchange for coffee? That was cinematic.”
Castiel looked like he was about to explode.
Gabriel shrugged. “Hey. In my defense, you weren’t exactly subtle. Hovering. Smiling. Touching the kid’s shoulder like a nervous prom date. Dean saw what anyone would’ve seen.”
Castiel looked away, teeth gritting from anger.
Gabriel added more gently, “You know how he looks at you, right?”
Castiel didn’t answer.
Gabriel turned his gaze to the city. “Might be worth asking yourself why it hurt him that much.”