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The last thing Dean remembered was pain. Excruciating pain.
He had been shot before but that time he had been lucky. The bullet had barely grazed his arm, and he had been in and out of the hospital within a couple hours with some painkillers and a dopey grin on his face.
This time, whatever guardian angel had been looking out for him all his life must have fallen asleep. Or hell, maybe it was getting laid.
“Good for you, guardian angel,” he muttered as he flipped through what had to be a five year old issue of US Weekly.
He paused to roll his shoulder. There was a dull throbbing sensation that radiated from the top of it, throughout his entire arm. It felt uncomfortable, and more than anything and he just wanted to be home, in his own bed, with his own TV, watching Doctor Sexy while wolfing down a huge slice of pie. The thought of pie made him smile and he sighed as he continued to flip through the magazine’s pages.
A few moments later someone walked into the room, their head bent over a large medical chart. Dean looked up and all he could see was a man standing a couple feet away from him, with a tuft of dark hair. The man turned around and handed the thick chart to the PA who had walked in behind him. “Everything seems fine, Meg, please leave your notes for me on my desk, I’ll read them later,” he said.
The PA nodded curtly and flashed a smile at him, one that seemed a little too welcoming, as she turned on her heel and left the room.
When the dark-haired man turned around, Dean was finally able to get a good look at him. He was tall, and had a runner’s build. Dean could tell, even under the scrubs that he had a nice body. His hair was a fluffy mess, and he peered at Dean curiously, his bright blue eyes shining through a pair of thick frames. He smiled, and Dean saw the little crinkles that formed at the corner of his eyes. Dean let out a low breath of air. Forget Doctor Sexy, this dude was cute.
“Mr. Winchester? How are you feeling?” he asked.
Dean cleared his throat and licked his lips. “Please, call me Dean. Mr. Winchester is my father,” he said with a cheesy grin.
The doctor smiled at him again and nodded. His eyes lingered on the magazine in Dean’s lap for a moment and then he picked up Dean’s chart. “Okay, Dean, how are you feeling today? I’m Doctor Novak,” he said.
Dean frowned. “Well, how do I put this nicely. I feel like shit, Doc,” he said.
Doctor Novak chuckled lightly as he flipped through Dean’s chart. “Yes, that…tends to happen when you get shot, Dean,” he murmured.
The room fell silent as the Doctor Novak flipped through Dean’s chart and made some notes. He hooked the chart back onto the foot of the bed and then he plugged his stethoscope into his ears and walked towards Dean. “Do you mind if I sit, Dean?” he asked.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Sure, why not, there’s enough room for the both of us here,” he said, instantly regretting the words as they slipped out of his mouth. Dean detected the faint upturn of the corner of Doctor Novak’s lips as he gently tugged at the collar of Dean’s dressing gown. Dean felt his cheeks get hot as the doctor’s fingers brushed against his skin. He shuddered as he pressed the cold piece of metal against his chest.
Doctor Novak looked up at him, his blue eyes unwavering, and he pulled back. “Do I make you nervous, Dean?” he asked.
Dean cleared his throat. He always got like this around men he found attractive. For some reason, flirting with attractive women didn’t faze him. He could do it with his eyes closed, and he was good at it too, almost too good. But put him in a room with an attractive man? Well, he was reduced to a pile of mush, suddenly unable to string together a simple sentence. “No, of course not. I’m a cop, got nerves of steel,” he said with a cheesy grin.
Doctor Novak hummed. “Your heart rate is…I’ll give you some time for it to…why don’t you pull down your shirt there? Let me take a look at the wound. Has it been cleaned and dressed for the day?” he asked.
Dean nodded as he gingerly pulled his shirt down. “Yeah this morning.”
Doctor Novak got up and smiled at Dean. “Well then, you’re due for another dressing. And since you’re the last patient on my rounds, I don’t mind doing it for you,” he said.
Dean swallowed thickly. “Oh, okay,” he said weakly as the doctor left the room. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He was acting like a complete idiot. What the hell was wrong with him? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was a grown man, a cop, hell, he just had a bullet removed from his shoulder just a day ago, protecting an 8 year old from her asshole abusive father, and if that wasn’t badass, then Dean didn’t know what was.
When Doctor Novak came back into the room, he rolled in a small cart with him. Dean shifted on the bed and watched as he carefully slipped on a pair of rubber gloves.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently peeled back the dressing on Dean’s wound.
Dean winced and Doctor Novak looked up at him. “Meg tells me you’re a police officer,” he said as he began to clean the wound.
Dean grimaced but nodded. “Yeah,” he said, as he made a face.
“What’s that like?”
Dean chuckled. “A lot more fucking paperwork than you’d expect,” he said.
This brought a smile to the enigmatic doctor’s lips. “Why did you become a cop?” he asked.
Dean shrugged. “My dad was a cop. I figured it would be good to follow in his footsteps,” he said.
The doctor hummed.
Dean’s bottom lip quivered. “What about you? Doctor Novak. Sounds…mysterious. Is working at a hospital anything like those ah, soap operas? Like Doctor Sexy?” he asked.
Doctor Novak snorted. “Absolutely not,” he said.
Dean observed the doctor as he worked. His hands were steady, and he smelled good. He had a calmness about him that Dean liked, something that caused butterflies to erupt in his stomach, and quell them all at the same time. “What’s your name?” he asked finally.
Doctor Novak looked up at him. “Castiel,” he said simply.
“Castiel,” Dean said, testing the name out on his tongue. “Sounds holy,” he said with a small chuckle.
Doctor Novak, rather, Castiel, smiled a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can say that,” he said. “How did you get shot?” Castiel asked.
Dean chewed on his bottom lip. “We got a call. Little girl, she was…scared out of her mind. Her father hit her mother, mom was unconscious, bleeding. Dad was drunk, ranting and raving, real asshole.”
He paused for a moment and Castiel stopped to look at him.
Dean licked his lips. “We got there, me and my partner Benny. The guy, the dad, he pulled out a gun, he was gonna…shoot her, this kid. She’s like 8, you know, she’s shivering and scared as shit man. I just…I just dived. I didn’t even think twice…and now, here I am,” he said.
Castiel smiled at him. “That was…quite selfless of you, Dean. Not everyone would have done what you did,” he said.
They lapsed into yet another silence, this one, a little more comfortable somehow. Dean liked the feeling of Castiel’s hand on his shoulder as he cleaned the wound. He liked Castiel’s presence, it was almost as though he held himself together with some sort of…grace, that so many people lacked these days.
He tried to imagine for a moment what this man would be like outside of the hospital. Would he be the kind of person who holes up at a café in the corner with a book and some coffee? Was he the kind of person that completely changed when they were outside? Would he laugh loudly causing other people to get annoyed? Dean had a thousand questions about Castiel. He wanted to know everything there was to know about him. His only problem was figuring out if Castiel felt the same way about him.
As Castiel bandaged Dean’s wound, Dean looked up at him.
“You wouldn’t….want to grab a coffee or something when I get outta here, would you?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat.
Castiel remained silent as he fixed the plaster on Dean’s wound. He gently pulled Dean’s sleeve back up to cover his shoulder and he pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the cart. He plugged the earpiece of the stethoscope into his ears once more and placed the cold silver disc onto Dean’s chest, over his heart.
“Take a deep breath for me, Dean,” he said.
Dean obliged. His face burned with shame as Castiel continued to listen to his heartbeat without even answering his question. He should have known a guy like Castiel would never be interested in a guy like him. This guy was a doctor, and here he was, some petty little cop who had gotten shot in the line of duty. There was nothing sexy about that.
Castiel removed the stethoscope from Dean’s chest and placed it back around his neck. “I’ll be back, Mr. Winchester,” he said as he pushed the cart out of the room.
Dean allowed his head to fall back onto his pillow. Well, he fucked that up. He’s not even sure how he fucked it up, exactly. All he did was ask the guy out for coffee. Maybe he read him wrong? Maybe he wasn’t into men and now he felt awkward. Dean moaned and buried his face in his hands. Oh God, what did he just do?
Moments later, Castiel shuffled back into the room. He held a small writing pad in one hand, and a pen in the other.
Dean watched him as he scribbled something down on a sheet of paper and then ripped it out. He walked over to Dean and handed it to him.
Dean’s heart sank when he realized that it was just a prescription.
Then, Castiel smiled at him. “I’m going away for a couple days, and most likely you’ll be discharged by tomorrow. You should look into that prescription. It’ll help,” he said.
Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Where did this guy get off? He glanced at the prescription, and that was when he realized that Castiel had scribbled down a phone number on the cream colored stationary. Dean looked up, only to see Castiel’s back turned toward him as he headed out the door. “We’ve really got to look into doing something about that heartbeat of yours, it’s out of control, Dean,” he said.
Dean could almost hear the smile on Castiel’s face and he grinned. “Hey Doc!” he called out.
Castiel stopped and turned around. “Yes, Dean?”
Dean smiled. “So, ah, when can I fill this prescription?” he asked.
Castiel rolled his eyes. “Perhaps when you come up with some better pick up lines,” he murmured with a small smile.
Dean looked down at the paper in his hand and he couldn’t help but blush. He ran his thumb across the surprisingly neat handwriting of Doctor Castiel Novak and he felt something flutter inside of his chest.
Perhaps he would get his own Doctor Sexy after all.