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Dean stripped off his gloves and turned on the taps, scrubbing his hands vigorously. As he squeezed out some soap, he felt the first waves of emotion start to roll over him. All through the surgery, he’d been professional and calm, but now that it was over his body was finally allowing itself to react properly to his ordeal. In his mind, he heard again the screech of wheels, felt the jarring thud of Cas slamming into him, pushing him out of the way; then came the horror of Dean sitting up to see him lying, motionless, in the road. And then that hellish ride to the local hospital, only to find that the place was overrun after a fire in an office building earlier that day, with every available surgeon busy; Cas might have had to wait until the next day – but Dean wouldn’t stand for that. Cas hadn’t complained much as he dipped in and out of consciousness – a bad sign in itself, given his usual predilection for general grumbling – but Dean had known that his friend was in a lot of pain. He’d used his credentials to secure an operating room, and got to work himself, with two nurses helping him. He’d barely felt the pain from his bruised ribs throughout the whole procedure.
“Doctor Winchester?” one of the nurses was hovering beside him, her red hair neatly pinned up. She’d been invaluable throughout the surgery, quiet and efficient, responding to Dean’s needs without the need for him to speak.
“Yes, Charlie?”
“He should be coming round any minute, if you want to be with him.”
Dean quickly finished rinsing his hands before nodding.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll go right along.”
If he were honest with himself, Dean was nervous about speaking to Cas. What did you say to someone who had just saved your life? Cas had seen the truck heading right for Dean, and had chosen to take his place in front of it. Of course, Dean knew he would do the same thing for Cas – they’d been best friends since the first year of medical school – but there was something overwhelming about Cas actually doing it. Something that seemed to cement their relationship. They’d never really spoken about the way they felt for each other, never even referred to each other as a “best friend”. But now, it was proven and undeniable: Cas would die for Dean. That was the kind of thing that only a family member or a best friend, or a – a – well, someone very, very close would be prepared to do.
Dean pushed through a door and walked down a long corridor, finally finding the ward where Cas was being held until they could free up a private room for him. Cas was on his gurney at the far end, a curtain half-drawn around his bed. A harassed-looking nurse was flitting from bed to bed, trying to keep up with all the patients coming round after surgery. Dean caught his eye and motioned towards Cas.
“I’ll take care of this one,” he said gruffly. The nurse nodded, abstractedly grateful as he bent down to rummage in a cupboard whilst a patient behind him began to mutter loudly about wanting to sing. Dean swallowed. At least Cas wouldn’t be lucid when he came round, so they could put off having a conversation about what had happened. Maybe enough time would pass that they could skip it altogether.
Reaching the gurney where Cas was lying, Dean reached out a hand and lightly touched Cas’ forehead. He was a little warm, but not dangerously so. Under the pressure of Dean’s palm, Cas stirred slightly.
“Cas?” Dean said gently, reaching down and taking Cas’ hand. “Cas, can you hear me? Everything’s alright. You’re in the hospital…”
Cas’ eyes flicked open, fast enough to make Dean jump. He tried to sit up, and then his face creased in pain; he shut his eyes against the light and sat back, coughing.
“Whoa, whoa,” Dean said, placing a hand on Cas’ shoulder to keep him from trying to move again. “You’ll rip my beautiful stitches.”
Cas’ eyes were open again, blinking furiously as he attempted to find his focus.
“I tried,” he said urgently, his voice rougher than sandpaper after his long surgery. His grip on Dean’s hand tightened. “I tried – I don’t think I got him –”
“Everything’s alright,” Dean said reassuringly. “You’re in the hospital, all patched up. You’re going to be just fine…”
“I tried to get him but I don’t think I got him,” Cas repeated, even more desperately. His pupils were huge, the anaesthetic in his system making them sluggish at reacting to the light. He probably couldn’t see anything at all, just a bright fuzz. “Did I get him out of the way?”
A light bulb went on in Dean’s head as he realised what Cas was talking about.
“You got him,” he said quickly, squeezing Cas’ hand. “I mean, uh, you got me. Cas –”
But Cas was already talking again, not listening to what Dean was saying.
“I can’t lose him,” he said. “I can’t lose Dean. Please – are you a doctor? You’ve got to help him. I feel fine, I swear. Just help him.”
“Cas – Cas,” Dean said ineffectually, lost for words. Cas’ pain could only be increasing as the anaesthetic wore off, but here he was, insisting that he was absolutely fine so long as Dean was looked after.
“He got hit by a truck,” Cas was saying. His voice almost broke. “I saw it coming and I tried, I pushed him but I don’t think I got him out of the way. I can’t lose him,” he said again. “Please, I can’t lose him. I can’t.”
“You haven’t,” Dean said, a little thickly. He tightened his grip on Cas’ hand, which had loosened with the shock of Cas’ words. “Cas, I’m right here, you hear me? I’m right here. It’s me. It’s Dean.”
“Dean?” Cas blinked blearily. A few stray tears leaked down his cheeks. Dean gulped back his own as best he could and smiled, reminding himself that tears were normal when coming out of anaesthesia: Cas was fine.
“I’m right here,” he repeated. Cas’ eyes finally managed to find a little focus, and his mouth fell open as his gaze met Dean’s.
“You’re alive,” he murmured, the relief in his voice almost palpable. “You’re alive.” His free hand reached up to touch Dean’s face, hesitantly, as though afraid Dean would turn to dust under his fingers. “I had a dream that you were gone.”
“I’m not,” Dean said. His own tears definitely couldn’t be explained away by drugs in his system, though; he was just being ridiculous. All the same, he leant into Cas’ touch a little, putting his hand up against the back of Cas’ and pressing it, reassuring Cas that he was solid, he was real.
“Don’t leave me,” Cas said softly.
Dean choked out a laugh.
“Cas, you just saved my life. I don’t want to go anywhere without you ever again.”
Cas blinked as he processed Dean’s words, and then he frowned seriously.
“Even in the shower?”
Dean snorted, unable to hold back his laughter. Cas looked so solemn and concerned. His pupils were still far too wide, but otherwise he seemed to be coming round well. As he watched, Cas gave a large yawn.
“We can talk more when you’ve slept a bit,” Dean said. “I’m gonna make sure you get a room. Only the best, too. Don’t worry about anything.”
Cas relaxed back into his pillows, letting his eyes fall closed.
“Will you be here when I wake up?” he murmured. “Or in the shower?”
Dean didn’t have to fight back his smile with Cas’ eyes shut.
“I’ll be here,” he replied, squeezing Cas’ hand one last time before letting go. He bit his lip and then said softly, almost in a whisper, “Love you, Cas.”
He’d turned and started walking away in search of the duty nurse when he heard Cas reply,
“Love you too, Dean.”
**
“Everything hurts,” Cas moaned, as he came around for a second time. Dean grinned and shifted on his chair beside the bed, muscles sore from sitting there all night.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said gently. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a little sore for a few days. Or, you know, weeks.”
Cas groaned and tried to sit up, a move that was just as unsuccessful as the first time he’d attempted it.
“Okay, easy there, that didn’t work last time either,” Dean said with a smile, reaching out and taking Cas’ hand. Cas lay still for a moment, and then peered down at their hands lying joined on the bed, a frown on his face. Dean swallowed and moved away, but that only seemed to perturb Cas further.
“You OK?” Dean asked, tentatively.
“Yes,” Cas replied automatically, and then his forehead creased again. “No. What happened?”
“You… don’t remember?” With a horrible sinking feeling in his chest, Dean looked into Cas’ bemused eyes. Oh, hell. He didn’t even remember the accident, let alone the conversation they’d had after the surgery…
“I remember walking back to our hotel with you and a few others after the panel,” Cas said slowly, and Dean grimaced as he recalled why they were even in this little backwater town anyway: a conference on rare surgical complications that Cas had asked to attend together. Dean had failed to let the organisers know about the accident. He’d have to do that soon.
“Yeah,” Dean said uncomfortably. “Well, we were coming up to the road, and I started to cross, when this truck… he runs the red light, comes steaming up towards me, I think I’m a goner and I’m seeing my life flash before my eyes and everything, but then…”
“I remember,” Cas said suddenly. His face was pale with the horror of the memory. “I remember. I saw the truck coming for you and I thought… I was never going to make it – I was running…”
“You made it,” Dean said. “You pushed me out of the way. But there wasn’t time for you to – to move. It hit you.” He swallowed hard, feeling himself welling up again just at the memory. “I sat up and I was winded, and you were just… lying there.” His throat stuck for a second, and he had to clear it before he could carry on. “And then when we got to the hospital it was freaking chaos, so I had to do the surgery myself. If you feel anything weird in there, don’t go blaming this place.” Dean smiled weakly. “One hundred percent Winchester work.”
Cas smiled in return, warmly and sincerely.
“So you saved my life.”
Dean snorted.
“I don’t know if it counts, Cas. Not after what you did for me.”
They fell silent for a moment or two, Dean staring at his hands and chewing his lip whilst Cas glanced around his room.
“This is quite pleasant,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Yeah, well,” Dean said. “Like I told you, only the best.”
“Like you told me?” Cas said, tilting his head. “When?”
“Uh, when you first came round from the anaesthetic. We had a… quick talk.”
“Oh,” Cas said, searching Dean’s face. “Was it – did I say anything…”
The conversation dangled on a precipice for a few moments. For a wild second Dean was tempted to tell Cas exactly what he’d said – it was so tempting, it hurt – but he swallowed down the urge. It just wasn’t fair to Cas to hold him to something he’d said when his body was in shock and he was pumped full of drugs. Dean had to let it go, as painful as it was – and hell, Dean was only feeling the first wave of it now and it was already near unbearable, especially after a full night of planning his new life with Cas. There was one thing he could keep, that “love you too, Dean” – he could have that forever. He’d allow himself that much, he decided. He wouldn’t try to forget it. But their future together? That was something he couldn’t expect, not now.
Dean cleared his throat.
“We talked a bit about showers,” he said, pasting on a smile. “Nothing too embarrassing.”
Cas let out a breath, though he looked a little disappointed, somehow, too. But that had to be Dean’s imagination, seeing what it wanted to see.
“Anyway, I’ll see about getting you some more water,” Dean said, standing. “No solid food for a bit, though.”
Cas nodded glumly. Dean hated to see him downcast, suffering because of what he did to help Dean.
“Hey, uh, Cas. I don’t wanna embarrass you or anything, but I just gotta say… thank you. For, you know. For saving my life.”
Cas looked up at him, blinking solemnly.
“I didn’t even have to think about it,” he said. “You don’t have to thank me. It was… the only thing I could have done.”
“Well,” Dean said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood, “you could’ve just stayed put. Your internal organs would’ve thanked you.”
But Cas shook his head.
“I couldn’t,” he said. “I couldn’t – lose you. I couldn’t bear it, Dean.”
Dean swallowed. Suddenly this was sounding very similar to the things that Cas had said when he’d first come round. Could that possibly mean that… no, surely not. Cas couldn’t have meant what he’d said at the end. Dean wasn’t even sure that he’d heard it right, anyway. Cas might’ve actually said that he… gloved him. He did sometimes help Dean put on his surgical gloves, after all. Contextually, that explanation totally held water.
Cas was looking down at his sheets, picking at a loose thread, obviously embarrassed at having said too much. Dean opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it again, and then opened it again.
“Me too,” he said abruptly.
Cas turned owlish eyes up to him, wide and searching.
“Really?”
“Really. When I saw you on the road… worst moment of my life, Cas. Thought I’d lost you. And when I felt your pulse, I…” Dean shook his head; there were no words to describe the intensity of his relief. “I just can’t believe you’d do that, to save me.”
“You’re worth saving,” Cas said, bluntly, without shame.
“Well, I don’t know about –”
“Dean, I… I love you.”
Dean’s whole world seemed to come to a sudden, floating stop. Suddenly he was lighter than air, lighter than light itself. He sucked in a breath and let it out, and it became just a little more real; he was smiling, and, oh, hell, on the verge of tears again, and his legs were wobbling underneath him… he sat down on the end of Cas’ bed, and put a hand over his eyes.
“You – you really do?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Yes,” Cas said. When Dean looked up, he saw that Cas’ expression was a little sad, a little lost. He bit his lip to keep from smiling.
“Can I tell you something?” he said. Cas nodded, not meeting Dean’s eyes.
“When you woke up the first time, I – I said that to you. Right at the end, I said – I told you that I love you.”
“You did?” It was Dean’s turn to watch Cas’ face transform – and God, it was beautiful. His eyes smiled first, and then his lips caught up, crinkling up his face into crows’ feet and dimples, until he seemed to be radiating pure happiness.
“It might’ve slipped out,” Dean confirmed with a touch of pretend ruefulness. “And see, you said it back.”
“That sounds plausible,” Cas said seriously. “Seeing as I do feel it back.”
“Yes,” Dean said, nodding, repressing a smile to match Cas’ mock solemnity. “Yeah. Exactly.” He didn’t know where to put himself, how to exist with so much happiness inside him; this was even better than last night, because Cas’ eyes were clear and bright and locked on his. This time, he was in full control, and he still loved Dean. He really did love Dean. He really did.
“Um,” Dean said intelligently, trying to think of something to say, but his mind was filled with a golden fog.
“What was it you called me when I came round?” Cas said thoughtfully, reaching down the bed for Dean’s hand. Dean slid his fingers neatly between Cas’ willingly, trying to stop his heart from actually bursting with happiness inside his chest. “Sleeping Beauty?”
“That’s right,” Dean said, a little touch of red appearing on both cheeks.
“Mmm,” Cas said thoughtfully. “But wasn’t Sleeping Beauty woken up with a kiss?”
Dean grinned.
“You might be right, there,” he said. “I never actually saw the movie.”
“I think she was,” Cas said, very seriously. “I’m almost certain. So this,” he indicated the distance between them, “is not accurate.”
Dean shuffled a little further up the bed.
“Better?” he asked, with a twinkling smile.
“A little,” Cas said. “Not perfect.”
Dean moved even further, so that he was sitting close to Cas. He reached out and lightly lifted Cas’ chin, tilting his head just so.
“How about this?” he asked.
“Almost right,” Cas said, a slight break in his voice as Dean leaned in.
“OK, I think I got it,” Dean said. “Shall we try the whole thing from the top?”
Cas nodded, his cheeks soft pink and his smile small but so bright, so wonderful that it made Dean’s heart jump a beat.
“Well, then. Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean said, allowing himself one last, long look at Cas’ beautiful face before he leaned forwards, closed the space between them, and kissed him.