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Dean Winchester had a problem. He was a total fraud.
Nobody would ever believe it. He was the best pediatrician in Lawrence, and depending who you asked, in the entire state of Kansas. Kids loved him, even when he had to give them shots. Babies adored him. Parents were impressed with both his bedside manner and his results. They called him a miracle worker.
None of that was Dean. He’d barely survived college, and medical school was one long alcohol-and-amphetamine-fueled nightmare until *he* showed up. Raphael’s first cure was Dean’s alcohol poisoning the night he passed out in his apartment with a blood alcohol content of over 0.40. His second cure was Dean’s liver. He refused to cure Dean’s alcoholism, but promised to be part of the treatment as long as Dean put forth his share of the effort.
Nobody knew about Raphael, not even his little brother. He’d given Sam an edited version of passing out drunk, waking up in a puddle of his own vomit and piss and shit, and realizing that he couldn’t live like that anymore. Since then, he’d stayed off the bottle, to Sam’s shock and delight. Raphael had promised to stick around, help Dean through his schooling and getting set up, and even now that Dean was in his 40s, Raphael was still here. Dean was happy, he had a great career and if he couldn’t be a dad because he didn’t have time for a wife he’d have to explain Raphael to, well, there were literally thousands of children who wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Dean, Sam and his family let Dean be Uncle Dean as much as he wanted to the point where those kids often spoke about him as Emergency Backup Dad. Life was good.
Until tonight. Tonight, Dean had stopped off at a liquor store on the way home. It took a couple sips to get back into the swing of things, but he obviously hadn’t forgotten. He made it through about two-thirds of the bottle before someone took a seat beside him on the couch. “Dean.”
“Heya, Raph.” He held up the bottle. “Here to chew me out for slipping?”
“Not at all.” Raphael didn’t reach for the bottle, didn’t even sound upset. “If you want to talk, I’m here to listen. If you would prefer silence, I’m just here to make sure you make it to bed safely.”
“Right. Bed. Like that’s anywhere you’d be concerned with.” Dean took another swig. “Friggin’ angel.”
“I don’t understand what my species has to do with not understanding beds.” And wasn’t that the whole goddamn problem. One little slip in front of a patient, mentioning Raphael as he talked to the girl about her alcohol issues at fourteen, and what was probably an innocuous comment from her about hoping there was some equally wonderful person out there who’d love her enough to pick her up at her worst and give her the help to keep going might be enough to get her through her bullshit for now sent Dean into a tailspin.
Of course Raphael loved him. Raphael was an angel. He loved all humans. Dean just got special attention because of some mumbo jumbo about blood magic and signs possibly lining up during Dean’s lifetime for some big shit to go down. The problem was, during all this time that Raphael had been coming to him and helping him out, he’d gone and fallen in love with the stupid angel. The first third of the bottle was devoted to the “wait how’d this happen I’m not gay” freakout, the second third of the bottle to “he’s a freakin’ angel do they even have junk or hormones or any interest in this shit”, and he’d meant to spend the last third of the bottle on “not that any of this matters because he knows what a useless sack of shit I am and would never be interested.”
“Do angels fuck?” It was the current freakout, after all, and he might be able to at least forget the last one.
Raphael blinked a couple times. “It used to be quite the problem. Angels fucking irresponsibility created Nephilim, who were so powerful and out of control that our Father had to flood the Earth to destroy them. Just because Nephilim are forbidden didn’t mean the fucking stopped, of course, angels just got more responsible about it. Why do you ask?”
Well. That was not the answer Dean had expected. Jury was still out on whether it was the one he wanted. “You have any kids?”
“No. A few lovers, but I always took the necessary precautions against pregnancy even before Nephilim were forbidden.” Raphael turned, pulling one leg up onto the couch to tuck under him. “Dean, are you sexually interested in me?”
Dean spat out the whiskey he’d just sipped. Leave it to Raphael to know exactly how to get to the point. “Still trying to wrap my head around it, but yeah. Although it’s not just about wanting to fuck someone and you’re convenient.”
“Obviously,” Raphael said with exaggerated solemness. “It’s hardly convenient to fuck someone who doesn’t or can’t fuck, after all.”
“You asshole, I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you.” Dean sat up straight. He hadn’t actually meant to say that part out loud. “Okay, I know you don’t like using miracles, but can you sober me up for this conversation? If I’m gonna be saying stupid shit like that, I wanna be sure I’ll remember this conversation in the morning so I don’t have to have it again.”
Raphael reached out, putting a hand to Dean’s forehead. He could feel the soberness slamming back into him, and he tried to pull away from Raphael in embarrassment. Raphael wouldn’t let him, moving his hand to tangle his fingers in Dean’s hair. “I love you too, but I had understood that you had no interest in angels or in sex that involved a penis that wasn’t yours.”
“I… kinda got blindsided by it myself,” Dean grumbled. “So now what? Am I ever gonna see you again, or do I have to figure out how to get through saving those kids myself?”
“Dean, I love you,” Raphael repeated. “Why would I leave you now that I know you return that love?” He reached out, taking the bottle of Jack away from Dean. “I would still like to take you to bed tonight, but my intentions for what to do with you there have changed dramatically.”
“Not sure I’m ready for that tonight,” Dean admitted after riding out the roller coaster of emotions. “Need a little more time to come to terms with this radical shift in my sexuality, you know?”
“As you wish.” Dean snorted. Making Raphael watch Princess Bride with him had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made. “When you’re ready, let me know. In the meantime, I return to my original intentions to make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”