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Castiel had never seen so much smoke. In a way, it was worse than darkness. It gave way, every now and then, to light - to a promise of relief. But it never lasted, and soon enough he was wandering through a black maze.
What might have been worse was the way it constricted his windpipe, making him cough up whatever oxygen he was able in inhale.
He pulled his T-shirt up to cover his mouth and nose, blue eyes scanning the thick smoke and dust for some sort of exit.
There, the door. An exit. A hope. The image only lasted for a second, before Castiel’s vision was once again consumed. He took his best guess and stumbled towards where he assumed the escape was. And he was doing well, considering. That is, until something fell from the ceiling not five feet behind him. The unknown object hit the floor with a deafening crack, and Castiel stumbled into a wall as the ground shook under his already unstable feet.
Determined, he pushed off the wall and continued in his previous direction, ducking low to ground to avoid the smoke. When he reached the door, relief flowed through him. If he made it to the house’s corridor, he was almost certain the front door wouldn’t be a problem. He reached out for the handle and felt an immediate pain shooting from his hand. He gasped and pulled back, looking at his quickly reddening hand from where it touched the doorknob.
Oh yeah.
The heat.
The smoke was one thing, blocking his eyes and lungs. But the heat was intense. More than Castiel had ever experienced. Sweat rolled down his forehead and his cloths clung to his body. He was aware of the orange flames licking at the walls of what remains of his bedroom, sending waves at him, causing him to stumble to a less persistent side of the room.
Now, he looked at his burnt hand, and his hope of the front door seemed to burn along with the rest of his house. He had a fleeting thought to kick at the door, but his lack of oxygen protested and he cast the ridiculously demanding thought out of his mind.
He turned around and saw what had fallen behind him. His ceiling was falling apart, boards breaking and crashing into the already splitting floor.
Mind muffled by lack of oxygen, Castiel slipped to the floor and made his way over to a corner where the ceiling seemed relatively stable. He sat, back pressed against the wall, and watched as his world burned.
Soon any oxygen was a luxury, so when he heard a man’s voice shouting through the house, he dismissed at as a trick of the ears. When he heard the sound of doors being kicked down the hall, it was just his imagination. Only when the door of his bedroom flew off its hinges onto the floor did Castiel consider this is actually happening. A figure entered, decked out in the full hero getup. He scanned the room, head turning slowly as he took in its destroyed contents. When his eyes landed on Castiel, he appeared to freeze for a second.
Castiel gave no response, just looked up at the man, still trying to figure out if this was real or not. The man hurried over to Castiel, effectively dodging debris and avoiding smoke. He dropped to a knee and removed his mask, pulling it over Castiel’s head.
Castiel was met with amazing green eyes, big and alert, looking straight into his. The man was saying something, Castiel was sure of it, he saw his mouth moving and a far off deep voice. But he could hear nothing over the green pools in front of him.
A sudden thought appeared to him through his trance. This man with the green eyes must be asking him a question. He forced himself to tune into the voice that hummed close to his ears.
"-in the house?!"
Castiel tilted his head at the man. He felt a hand clasp the side of his head and the voice spoke again.
"Come on, man, stay with me. Is there anyone else in the house?"
Comprehending the question, Castiel shook his head. The man nodded and soon Castiel was standing, arm flung over the man’s shoulders and stumbling to the door shaped hole in the wall. Castiel’s was unsure how, but soon the pair were outside, walking across the lawn to a classic big red fire engine.
Before he could comprehend what exactly was happening, a new oxygen mask was pulled over his face and a blanket around his shoulders. He looked up at the man, who worked next to him, removing his mask and unbuttoning his jacket. Now that Cas could see him, he realized how gorgeous the stranger was. He had a chiseled jaw and a strong nose, freckles dotting almost everywhere like the stars that still shine through during the day. He realized he was staring and quickly looked away just as the man turned to him with a small flashlight.
He tilted his head up with his hand and said, “Eyes wide.”
He obliged, tilting his head and staring into the small light. The man continued with a series of tests, checking blood pressure and a whole lot of other stuff Castiel paid almost no attention to. When the man began to put all his equipment away, Castiel took the oxygen mask off his mouth.
"I’m fine, really."
The man returned the mask to his face without turning, “You inhaled a lot of smoke.”
He took it off again, “Honestly, I feel okay.”
A hand reached out to pull it back on, “You could have lung damage.”
"The only damage I have is to my house," Castiel stubbornly removed the mask and let it hang down his neck. The man sighed and walked in front of Castiel, strong hands pulling the mask back up and holding it firmly in place. The look in those green eyes told Cas that in a battle of stubbornness, he was most likely to lose. With this new information he kept on the mask and watched as the man went through his supplies. Glancing back at his house, he saw the flames were almost completely extinguished, only a rough, black outline of the building remained.
"What’s your name?"
Castiel returned his attention back to the man. Pulling the mask slightly off his mouth, he replied, “Castiel.”
The man pulled a face, “Really? Weird name.”
"I don’t think so," Cas began his usual protection of his name, well-practiced after countless years of judgmental faces.
"Relax, man. I like it. Sounds all mystic-y and such. I’m Dean."
Castiel nodded, “Under different circumstances, it’d be a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”
He laughed at that, a strong, good laugh that warmed Castiel up and made him grin a little himself, despite the fact that his house just got destroyed.
"Yeah, back at you, Cas."
He smiled at the quickly acquired nickname. Everyone called him that, but it sounded good on Dean’s tongue, even a little endearing.
Dean glanced back at the destroyed house. His fellow firemen were just finishing up, rolling up the hoses, assessing damage, and beginning to salvage what they could find. Castiel guessed by the time he was pulled out of the house, the fire was mostly under control.
"Its rotten luck we didn’t get here sooner. I’m sure some things survived the damage. You know how it started?"
Castiel consulted his jumbled mess of a mind to find an answer. It only took a couple seconds until the realization dawned on his face.
"Op, there it is," Dean muttered, like he’d seen this every day.
"Shit," Cas whispered, "My oven!"
Dean nodded, “Pot roast?”
He absently shoot his head, “Meatloaf.”
Dean slapped a hand on Cas’s leg, “Happens to the best of us.”
Castiel sat for a while, feeling sorry for himself. The oxygen actually helped, and after a while his lungs were still rough, but much improved from before. He removed the mask from his head, glancing at Dean for some protest. When none came, he set the mask down next to him and thought of what to do next. The same thought seemed to occur to Dean.
"So, uh… You got somewhere to stay?" Dean inquired as he put the back of Castiel’s burnt hand in his palm to examine it, "Should be fine," he concluded, "Maybe hurt for a couple of days, but nowhere near a second degree."
Castiel nodded, thanking him.
"So, anywhere to live? Mom and Dad’s?… Girlfriend’s?….. Boyfriend’s?"
Cas raised his eyebrows at the last word, and Dean seemed pleased to see so. He held the other man’s gaze for a moment before replying simply, “No.”
Dean nodded again and Castiel wasn’t sure if he imagined the thumb that ran lightly across his hand.
"Good," Castiel barely heard the mutter, but he heard it nevertheless. Dean dropped his hand and returned to his shuffling through his medic kit. Castiel almost laughed at the situation. Here he was, a broke teacher with a burnt down house and nowhere to go, flirting with his rescuer while sitting on a gurney next to his big red fire truck.
Cas couldn’t help but smile, though, and he soon found himself saying, “I’m glad you got here when you did. Or I could be dead.”
Dean shrugged once, comically, “Saving people. Salvaging things. All a part of the business,” he flashed a dazzling grin Cas’s way.
"Perhaps a debt is in order then," Cas continued, grinning himself. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Let me buy you dinner."
Dean smiled wide, and Castiel noted the way his eyes crinkled in the corners and the blush that stood out against the freckles. He decided he’d like to see him smile a lot more.
"Well, Castiel. If you insist."