Work Text:
The last place Dean expected to find himself today was at the hospital. But hey, always expect the unexpected with John Winchester, right? Which was the only reason why Dean found himself nursing a cup of coffee, staring disgruntled at the amount of emails flooding the notification screen on his phone.
Sighing, Dean put away his phone. He’d already sent an email to the principal, a last minute email to a backup substitute, and read the replies which were thankfully promising. So there was really no need for him to try to distract himself on his phone, only to spectacularly fail.
Swallowing, Dean shuffled in his stiff plastic seat, staring down at his coffee cup with a suspicious eye. Honestly, he still wasn’t sure hospital coffee wasn’t just a mix of leftover chemicals the nurses poured into a coffee kettle rather than the biohazard waste bin. Looking up, he easily found his giant brother looming above anyone else, leaning against a far window as he glared down at his own phone. Dean couldn’t help but snort. Even in a surgery room, John never failed to antagonize Sammy. Getting to his feet, Dean groaned as his knees protested at the action. Seriously, he was only thirty, Dean didn’t need his joints yelling at him just yet.
“Hey, Sammy.” Dean nodded as his brother looked up, blinking a few times before he focused on Dean.
“Hey,” Sam said, still frowning as he straightened, looking down to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean never failed to feel a twinge of childish irritation that his little brother managed to grow taller than him, but he ignored it easily.
“I’m gonna go grab something that actually resembles coffee,” Dean said, lifting his cup for emphasis. Sam smirked slightly, the bitch. He’d been the one to get Dean the coffee, he should have known something was up when Sam didn’t bring anything for himself. “You want anything?” Dean asked, because he was still a lot more mature than his brother. When it mattered. Because sure enough, Sam shot him a grateful nod, eagerly accepting with a nod.
“Yeah, a coffee – black. I’m going to need it if I want to make any sense of the reports Madison’s sending me. I swear, she says I don’t have to worry about anything–”
“But then sends you stuff that makes you think the company is going to topple anyway if you don’t like at it right away?” Dean asked dryly, raising his eyebrows.
Sheepish, Sam ducked his head down. “Well… not exactly, but…”
Rolling his eyes, Dean shook his head, already taking a step back. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You stay here and be all important, I’ll grab us some fuel. Text me immediately if you hear anything, alright?”
He barely bothered to hear his brother’s answering response before he was turning around completely, eager to leave the hospital and get a breath of fresh air. And he did so too, taking in a deep lungful the moment he was out of the building, relishing in the crisp air that lacked the burning chemicals and sterilized oddity. Taking a second for himself, he forgot about his dad, how the guy fucking burst his appendix fixing up a car, which led him to the ICU afters years of refusing to step inside a hospital. Instead, forcefully holding onto the lightness within his chest, Dean bounded down the steps, keeping an eye out for a coffee shop – any coffee shop that just wasn’t in the hospital, for starters.
He didn’t stay out for long, but when Dean returned to the hospital, he found himself jogging hurriedly at the sight of a surgeon talking to Sam. He shoved Sam’s coffee cup right as he reached them, eagerly looking to the doctor – and then froze.
Well. Ho ly shit. The doctor was so not appropriate for Dean right now. Seriously, because his eyes said I’m sorry… but his… everything else, including those very same eyes, was telling Dean how much he really wanted the doctor in his bed, stat.
“And… you’re Mr. Winchester’s…?”
A helpful nudge in his ribs courtesy of his brother’s sharp elbow had Dean clearing his throat, coming back to himself. “Yeah, Dean.” Swallowing, Dean tried to focus on the fact that the doctor did not look like he had any good news, which – oh. Shit.
“Is he–” Dean started, suddenly feeling way too grounded. There was no way the son of a bitch was leaving now, not from a burst appendix out of all things, not without any drama like the man was so prone to enacting…
“Uh, no, Mr. Winchester is still alive,” the doctor said, but he still didn’t look too happy. Dean could sympathize, he’d seen Sam say the same thing with the same face far too many times for him as well. “But there were some complications, as I was explaining to your brother here, and so we’re going to have to keep your father in the ICU for a little longer.”
Dean nodded, his eyes already drifting to the doors of which his father was beyond, behind the doctor.
“Right… can we… could we see him?” Surprisingly, it was Sam who asked that. Dean turned to look at his brother, conveying his shock through severely raised eyebrows, Dean was pretty sure his eyebrows were actually at the ceiling right about now.
“Of course,” the doctor immediately replied, even going so far as to take a step out of Sam’s way. “But… he’s currently sedated for the time being, so he won’t be responsive.” The doctor said apologetically. Sam nodded anyway, his eyes glued to the door. He took a step forward, before glancing, uncertain, at Dean. Closing his eyes, Dean moved out of the way as well, letting his brother go. He knew that Sammy probably needed this more than him right now anyway.
It didn’t take long for Sam to go on ahead after that, though both the doctor and Dean watched, side by side, as he came to a halt right outside the doors, taking a deep breath, his shoulders lifting with the action, before he pushed through.
Silence descended between the two.
Eventually, the doctor turned to face Dean. “I should get to my office. In case you need anything–”
“Actually,” Dean cut in, turning to look at the doctor apprehensively. When the doctor only raised his eyebrows in response, patiently waiting, Dean scrounged up the courage to go on. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out for coffee?” He asked, hoping he didn’t just make a terrible mistake and accidentally doom his father to a homophobe.
Thankfully, the doctor didn’t react too negatively – except to pointedly glance down at Dean’s hand. Following his line of sight, Dean looked down as well, to find the coffee cup still in his hand. Ah.
“Or, maybe lunch?” Dean asked hopefully.
For too long of a moment, the doctor stayed silent. When Dean was about to back off, his stomach sinking, the doctor finally spoke.
“Lunch sounds perfect.” And then he grinned, those perfectly pearly white teeth gleaming.
Dean could have swooned, his attention honing in on the doc’s face.