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When Dean wakes up, everything is dark at first.
He grunts, unsure where he is. Or why there is such a painful crack in his neck. Or why he doesn't feel his wonderful and familiar memory foam underneath his body.
Instead everything seems wrong somehow.
Dean can't really say what it is, though, and for some reason he doesn't have any energy to check it out.
No, instead he remains like he is, motionless, surrounded by darkness.
For a long while he debates with himself to finally go back to sleep. It seems easy enough, with him apparently pretty exhausted and on the brink of unconsciousness already. So why wait around and postpone the inevitable, right?
But a part of his brain insists that he stays awake under any circumstances and even though Dean has no idea why that is, that urge is strong enough to keep him from drifting off again.
So he argues with himself for way too long.
Struggles and fights and even gets rather rude with himself in the end.
After a significant time period of him doing nothing but cursing, his brain finally decides to share some more details about his current situation, obviously so eager to keep him up that it figures some context might help Dean with that issue.
So yeah, his brain tells him that he's currently not in his own bed, snuggling into his beloved memory foam. (Which, duh.)
It also informs Dean that he's sitting in his Baby, which, after a little consideration, actually makes sense. The thing underneath his butt certainly feels like the Impala's upholstery.
And yeah, that tidbit of information lets Dean remember that he's been at Sam's place earlier, to finally meet his new girlfriend Eileen. They had a good time, Dean recalls that much, and after a couple of hours of great food and Dean and Eileen ending up ganging up on Sam, much to the guy's dismay, Dean said his goodbye and drove off.
And then …
Then …
He rode on that lonely road through the forest …
There was suddenly a deer or something …
Dean reacted on instinct, whirling the steering wheel around …
And then …
Then suddenly the car slid off the road and into the woods … and there was that tree …
Dean blinks and suddenly realizes that the darkness surrounding him is actually the airbag his face is smashed in. Apparently the additional security measures Dean installed a few years back reacted the way they intended to and prevented his head from getting split open by the headboard.
Dean groans as he forces himself to sit up.
His energy level is still dangerously low and he wants nothing more than to succumb to all that exhaustion filling every single inch of his body, but now he's finally starting to understand why his brain is trying to keep him awake anyways.
It might seriously not be a great idea to fall asleep right now.
Because Dean might have not cracked his skull, but he still feels sore all over and there is something warm and wet running down his left temple which might just be just some water coming from somewhere, but which also could be blood …
Yeah, Dean doesn't feel like checking it out.
Instead he blinks and urges himself to concentrate, dammit, as he lets his gaze roam around. At first the only thing he sees are trees and bushes and fucking nature and he can't even tell where the road is supposed to be. Some ugly sensation grips at him then that feels a bit like desperation and Dean refuses to let it control him. His body is going through the motions now, most likely in such shock that it has no clue how to act anymore, and Dean doesn't think it would be beneficial for the situation to just let all those emotions run rampant.
Instead he tries to be rational.
What would any normal person in such a situation do?
All alone, injured, in the middle of nowhere …
No help in sight …
Help …
Right, this is what 911 is for, isn't it?
Dean feels a little proud of his brain for coming up with that, but soon deflates as he begins to pat down his pant's pockets and realizes that his phone isn't there.
Did he leave it on the seat next to him and it flew off when he crashed?
Or did he put it somewhere else?
Or maybe even forgot it at Sam's?
Dean can't recall and he feels some burning tears prickle in his eyes as that desperation from earlier attempts to get a hold of him again.
Dean fights it off once more.
There is time for tears later.
So he keeps on looking around while ignoring the pain shooting through his body at the smallest movement. He needs to battle through it if he doesn't want to end up here all forgotten.
For a long while it's only trees and bushes, though, and Dean wonders if there is any hope at all.
And then he sees it.
Lights.
In the distance.
It takes a while for Dean to catch up with the fact that he's on some kind of hill and that the lights are coming from a valley nearby. It's not much, but he thinks he recognizes the huge neon sign of a popular auto garage …
And that garage … it's close to Cas' place …
Cas …
Warmth floods Dean's system instantly as he thinks of his best friend (as it does most of the time) and a tentative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
Right, he was on his way to Cas. Grab some beers with the guy on the porch and tell him all about Sam's girlfriend.
And then that deer or whatever happened …
Dean inhales shakily.
Yes, Cas …
Dean needs to get to Cas.
Cas always knows what to do.
And he's got a phone so he can call 911.
And right, he is also a doctor. So maybe he can fix Dean himself and then they can drink on the porch and forget about all this unfortunate situation …
Because Cas is great at fixing things …
Cas is great at everything …
Since he's just the best all around …
So Dean is pretty sure that Cas would know what to do …
Dean would be safe and sound with him, no question about that …
Yeah, that sounds good …
So, with only Cas on his mind, Dean stumbles out of the car and starts to move.
Towards the lights.
Towards Cas.
---
Dean is late.
Granted, they didn't schedule a specific time, but he sent Castiel a text way over an hour ago that he would head out and normally it just takes about fifteen minutes from Sam's apartment to Castiel's house.
So Castiel is getting a bit worried.
Of course there could be an easy explanation. Maybe after sending that message Dean ended up saying goodbye to Sam and Eileen longer than he planned (like these things tend to do sometimes). Or perhaps he found himself in some traffic jam. Not highly likely in the area they're living in, but it does happen. You just need one or two stupid drivers clogging up the streets and nothing flows for hours.
It might be as simple as that.
Also Dean might not answer his phone because he can't hear it or is too busy focusing on the road ahead to pick it up.
Easy enough.
Castiel knows that there is no reason to panic.
And yet he can't help himself.
He's got a really bad feeling about this.
He paces the living room for another ten minutes, gnawing on his fingernails the whole time, before he eventually decides that enough is enough and he gets his phone out to call Sam.
Completely ignoring Sam cheerfully greeting him on the other end of the line, Castiel cuts straight to the chase and asks, “At what time did Dean leave your apartment?”
Sam is clearly stumped by that abrupt attack and takes a moment to catch himself. “Huh?”
“Dean,” Castiel urges, phrasing the name like Sam seriously needs a reminder what his brother is called. “He hasn't arrived at my place yet and I'm starting to get a little worried.”
A little is naturally a blatant understatement, but Sam doesn't need to know that.
“He isn't there yet?” Sam wonders and there is suddenly obvious concern in his tone, too. “He left almost one and a half hours ago.”
Castiel feared as much.
“He hasn't arrived,” he tells Sam yet again. “And I can't reach him on his phone either.”
Sam is silent for a second, apparently collecting himself and trying to process those news.
“Maybe he was about to run some errands before coming to you and he forgot to tell you about it?” Sam suggests tentatively, even though it's clear by the waver in his voice that he doesn't really believe such a thing.
Castiel does neither. “You know this isn't Dean. He doesn't forget something like that.”
If he's running late due to such or similar reasons, he always makes sure to remind Castiel. Most of the time even more than once.
He doesn't want anyone to worry.
So this right now? This is most definitely out of the ordinary.
“I don't know,” Castiel sighs. “It's probably just bad traffic or something else trivial and maybe he simply forgot his phone, but …”
Sam hums, seemingly agreeing with him.
“I don't feel like sitting around anymore and waiting for him,” Castiel explains. “Maybe I should get in the car and drive up his route, hopefully meeting him halfway –”
“You know what?” Sam interrupts. “I will do that. You stay put and call me if he should arrive in the meantime, okay?”
Castiel really hates the thought of sitting around and doing nothing, but Sam also has a point. The only thing they know is that Dean was headed towards Castiel's house and they seriously should keep up the fort.
“Okay,” Castiel agrees, albeit still somewhat reluctant. “Call me if anything comes up.”
“Same for you,” Sam says. “And don't worry, I'm sure he's fine. Like you said, probably just bad traffic or maybe a flat tire or something. He'll likely laugh about us being all worrywarts.”
Dean laughing at him right now surely sounds like the most amazing thing to Castiel.
Sam soon bids his goodbye, heading for his car to drive Dean's regular route. And Castiel feels on edge and overwhelmed and keeps on pacing because there seems nothing else left to do.
It's merely a couple of minutes later when he suddenly hears noises coming from the front porch. It clearly sounds like someone is stepping over the old and creaky wood and Castiel doesn't even hesitate a millisecond to rush to the door and check for himself.
As he basically rips the door open so hard it nearly breaks off its hinges and spots Dean climbing the few steps onto his porch, Castiel breathes a sigh of utter relief.
Thank. The. Heavens.
“Dean …” he sighs, so completely delirious with happiness at seeing his friend upright and walking that it's making him a bit lightheaded.
Castiel actually had no idea that such relief even existed.
He hurries towards Dean, eager to pull him into a tight bear hug and afterwards scolding him madly for getting them all concerned.
But then he comes to a screeching halt, with his arm outstretched midair …
There is definitely something wrong with Dean.
Dean pants and huffs climbing up those few steps and lifting his head and shooting Castiel a crooked grin seems to take him way too much effort.
Furthermore, his eyes …
They appear dull and glazed over, like he's not really here …
Castiel has seen such eyes far too many times during his years as resident at the local hospital.
It doesn't mean anything good.
Castiel's worries return tenfold, even more heart-wrenching than before.
“Dean!” he exclaims. “What happened?”
Dean opens his mouth, as though he is about to answer, but he stumbles on the last step and it's only due to Castiel's instincts reacting in time and catching him before he can topple over that he doesn't collapse onto the ground in a rather painful manner. Instead he finds himself pulled into Castiel's arms and he sighs softly as he leans into the contact, his head nestled into the crook of Castiel's neck.
“Cas …” he mumbles. “… found you … Cas …”
He sounds out of it.
Like he barely knows what he's even saying.
Castiel's heart rate goes through the roof listening to the way Dean's slurring his words.
This is most definitely not good.
“Dean, what happened?” he urges again, his voice close to panic, while at the same time trying to free one of his arms to be able to grab for the phone in his pocket and call for some help.
Because they undoubtedly need help, Dean isn't just exhausted and in need of a simple nap.
The way he is looking and talking, the manner his skin feels all clammy and wrong against Castiel, and also the nasty lacerations on his forehead and temple which Castiel is capable of seeing clearly now so close to him – it all tells a distinctive story.
Dean managed to hurt his head somehow and he's not doing great.
“Dean, please tell me,” Castiel begs again. “What happened? Where have you been?”
Dean doesn't answer, though, just mutters something incoherent.
Castiel chases off the panic rising inside of him and doubles his efforts to reach his phone. When he eventually is successful, he doesn't wait a single second later to call 911.
The operator on the other end of the line promises to send someone over and continues to ask further questions, for the paramedics on the way to have a better picture of the situation.
“I don't know what happened to him,” Castiel tells the woman urgently. “But I can tell he is in really bad shape –”
He is interrupted by Dean suddenly pointing behind him, at the hill in the distance, and slurring, “… a deer … in front of Baby …”
Castiel frowns, at first having no idea what the man is even trying to tell him. But as he follows Dean's cue and realizes that he's gesturing into the vague direction of where the road is he always takes to drive to Castiel's house, right next to the forest, and also all of a sudden notices that Dean's car, his beloved Baby, is nowhere to be seen in the driveway, it's fairly easy to connect the dots.
Castiel gasps in shock.
“Oh God, I think he had a car accident,” he informs the operator, his voice all unsteady as he watches up the hill which seems so very far away all of a sudden. “And … and he walked here?”
Castiel shakes his head, having a hard time believing this.
“Dean,” he says, shaking the man to get his attention and also to keep him from drifting into unconsciousness. “Dean … tell me, did you walk here?”
Dean nuzzles Castiel's neck again and mumbles, “… needed to get to you … Cas … only you …”
Castiel's chest clenches hit with too many emotions as he tries not to think about Dean stumbling through the woods, all hurt and confused, with solely one thought in mind.
Castiel wants to chastise him for taking such a risk, but he also knows that the body and especially the brain do very weird things while in shock. For some reason Dean decided to focus on Castiel alone and he wasn't deterred from his mission. Even if it apparently took him more than an hour in his bad state to reach Castiel's residence.
“Oh Dean …” Castiel whispers, on the brink of tears now. He pulls Dean closer, revels at the sensation of the man's breath skidding over Castiel's skin. “I can't imagine what you have been going through …”
Dean's slurs seem to trail off and that suddenly alarms Castiel all anew.
He draws back to be able to look into Dean's dazed eyes and urges, “Dean, look at me!”
Dean blinks and clearly gives it his best effort, but it's obvious it's taking a large toll on him. Now, with the shock wearing off and him finally having reached his destination, his body is undoubtedly ready to admit its limits.
“No, don't you dare faint on me, do you hear me?” Castiel orders, in the best commanding voice he can think of. “You have to stay awake!”
“'M tired,” Dean mutters anyway, his head starting to loll as he's barely able to keep it up anymore.
“I know, I know,” Castiel reassures him. “But please, look at me! You have to stay with me, Dean!”
I can't lose you now, he thinks, the prospect so horrible Castiel whimpers from it.
“Everything's going to be alright,” he promises, with his eyes burning. “You just – you just have to stay with me, okay? Don't fall asleep!”
Dean tries hard to focus on him.
While his eyes get even duller, much to Castiel's horror.
“Your eyes …” Dean mumbles. “… so pretty … you're so pretty …”
Castiel doesn't have time to get flustered from this as he's way too busy being grateful for Dean still talking.
“Yes, Dean, just look into my eyes!” he urges instead. “Just focus on that and nothing else, alright?”
Dean smirks halfheartedly with only one side of his mouth. “… no problem … you're so pretty … so lucky to have you …”
And so they stay like this while the sound of the sirens in the distance gets louder with each passing second.
---
Waking up in the hospital after a severe car accident is not like in the movies.
You don't just blink your eyes open, while looking utterly perfect with all your make-up on, and are conscious and aware of everything the very next moment as your worried loved ones smile down at you and either cry from relief or joke around immediately, calling you Sleeping Beauty.
No, instead Dean drifts back and forth for who knows how long.
The first time he is awake long enough to hear some agitated voices right next to him. He can't distinguish them no matter how hard he tries and slips into darkness soon after.
The next time he at least notices that he must be in some kind of hospital. He hears some beeping machine nearby and notices that distinctive hospital smell he always hated, so there is not much doubt in his mind about his whereabouts. He's barely able to open his eyes, though, so he has no chance to study his surroundings and make sure he's actually right before he's asleep once more.
It happens like that a few more times. Just seconds of foggy consciousness and that's about it.
At some point he manages to stay awake long enough to roam his gaze tiredly over his room, just to confirm that it's as sad and uninviting as any hospital room he's ever been in.
The next time he sees a set of beautiful blue eyes that brings a weak smile to his face before he's out of it again.
Dean has no idea how long it eventually takes for him to actually wake up. It might have been hours or days or even centuries as he finds himself staring ahead, with everything around him not being fuzzy for once. His head pounds and everything hurts, but shapes have actual shapes again and that's clearly good.
Doctors and nurses prod at him soon after, shining into his eyes and talking to him as well as with each other, using mostly terms that make not much sense for Dean. Thankfully the giant sitting right next to his bed, who, as Dean catches up with a couple of minutes later, is actually Sam, seems to know what is being said and listens to the medical professionals attentively while nodding along.
He actually leaves with the doctors a while later, clearly having more questions, and Dean finds himself all alone with the person sitting on the other chair beside Dean's bed.
Even though Castiel probably has a lot of questions for the doctors as well, most likely even more so than Sam, he doesn't move a single muscle to follow them outside into the hallway. Instead he stays right where he is and just looks at Dean, with way too many emotions on his face for Dean's exhausted brain to decipher.
“You probably didn't understand any of what they just said, did you?” Castiel guesses right, that soft smile on his lips Dean has always adored.
Dean merely grunts, not really trusting his voice just yet, which triggers Castiel to reach for a glass of water nearby and offer it to Dean by turning the straw inside of it into his direction. Dean drinks without hesitation, but switches into slow and careful when Castiel warns him to not overdo it.
“How much do you remember?” Castiel wonders eventually.
Dean needs a few minutes to wrap his head around that question.
He remembers … well, he still doesn't recall the accident itself apart from a couple of blurry images, but he certainly remembers struggling through the woods, taking one foot after the other, over and over. He was in pain and disoriented and dizzier than ever before in his life, but he forced himself repeatedly to focus on the bright light of that garage sign – on Cas – and keep on walking.
The most vivid thing he remembers, though, is the moment he climbed up that porch (which suddenly seemed like a huge mountain even though it was like three steps) and he spotted Cas in front of him. Dean had never felt such relief, such happiness, and at that moment he could only think, “This is it. He is it.”
Dean has known for years that he's harboring a crush on Cas. Ever since they had met on that fateful night, with Dean drowning his sorrows in booze at the local bar after a very nasty fight with his dad and Cas, a complete stranger at the time, getting gradually worried by Dean's state, eventually gripped him tight and dragged him out of that pub. Back then Cas had been a med student in his last year and developed some kind of general savior complex, so eager to see everyone safe that Dean had been no exception. He got Dean in a cab, drove home with him and made sure he managed to find the right apartment door in his drunken condition.
Cas left his number in Dean's jacket pocket, just because that's the kind of guy he was (and still is), and Dean found it a few days later and couldn't help texting him, telling the man that he really appreciated that Cas put a stop to Dean's drinking spree because otherwise that might have ended up badly. They kept in contact afterwards, at first just some texts and later more and more, and the rest is history. At some point the guy had become Dean's best friend – the first of that kind, to be perfectly honest.
And yeah, Dean realized early on that the fluttering in his chest whenever he was with Cas was something else than simple platonic affection. But he glued his mouth shut about that all these years, not keen on ruining their friendship in any way.
He always assumed it was a normal, little crush anyway. Nothing to cry wolf about.
Now, however, as he relives the moment he saw Cas on that porch, all worried and so very beautiful, Dean has to confess that the whole thing is much more than that. It's I-wanna-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you monumental.
And Dean wants to tell Cas now, wants to tell him since it's still fresh and powerful and he knows that he's gonna lose his nerve sooner than later.
But he's also very aware that he's probably on pain meds and still halfway in shock after the trauma and Cas won't take any love confessions seriously in that condition. He would most likely just look at Dean all pitifully and tell him to sleep it off.
So yeah, once again Dean keeps his mouth shut.
However, he vows to himself that this won't be the last of it. A near-death experience apparently does things to a guy.
So in the end he mumbles, “I don't remember much …”
Cas sighs and seems to consider reaching out and taking Dean's hand in a reassuring manner. Dean really hopes he will do so.
“The fire department found your car,” Cas tells him. “And … God, I still can't comprehend the distance you covered. It's a miracle you didn't collapse somewhere halfway, in the middle of the woods.”
He shudders at the mere thought and Dean has to admit that it certainly doesn't sound very pleasant.
“You could have died there, all alone,” Cas goes on, clearly upset by the idea. “And the road – it actually wasn't so far away from your location, you know? You could have walked back within five minutes.”
Dean is ready to defend himself, but Cas is quick to add, “This is not me scolding you, by the way. I know that the body and mind go through weird stages in shock. Hell, one time I had a patient who came into the ER after an ugly bike accident and even though half the bones in his body were shattered he was adamant that he had to go to work now. We actually had to restrain him at some point because his head had completely blacked out what had happened to him.”
Dean can actually relate to that now.
“I saw the lights,” he explains, his voice quiet. “The ones from that garage's sign close to you … and then I could only think of you.”
Cas nods, like that totally makes sense. “Your brain locked onto that and nothing else.”
“It locked onto you,” Dean clarifies and feels rather pleased when something akin to a light blush shows up on Cas' cheeks.
“Well, either way,” Cas says, his gaze a bit lowered as though he doesn't dare to look directly into Dean's eyes, “it was quite a distance. And down a hill no less.”
Dean bites his bottom lip, not really eager to recall that particular part of his journey once more.
Instead he asks (while dreading the answer), “Do you know how my Baby is?”
Cas doesn't seem surprised by the concern in Dean's tone. “She is fine,” he assures him, with an indulgent smile on his face. “I haven't seen her for myself, but Bobby picked her up after the fire department was done with her. He says that there are a few bruises and scratches and also some little dents here and there, but nothing you wouldn't be able to fix in an afternoon.”
As he proceeds to show Dean pictures he bullied Bobby to send him because he just knew how important it would be for his friend to see his Baby relatively unharmed, Dean finds himself thinking once again, “Yeah, he is it.”
---
Dean stays at the hospital for the rest of the week.
He would have been released sooner, but Castiel still has some influence around the hospital and achieves to convince the important parties to give his best friend the extra care special.
Dean is naturally not really happy about it, but he's also still exhausted and on partially heavy medication, so he sleeps most of the time anyway and doesn't have much chance to complain to anyone who is able to listen.
And Castiel knows that he's just being overprotective, but Dean's concussion had been a bad one which could have easily turned into permanent brain damage or even a brain bleed if he would've tripped around the lonely woods for much longer and that thought alone scares Castiel so much that he just can't help himself. He has been so close to losing Dean and it's simply too much to deal with.
When the day of Dean's release is upon them, Sam approaches Castiel the night before at the hospital's cafeteria with a pensive expression. He was at Dean's side more or less the whole time, just like Castiel, and the law firm he's been working with for about two years now was lenient with him so far, but Castiel knows that there is a big case coming up and Sam can't afford to stay away for much longer.
So before Sam is even able to open his mouth and address the issue, Castiel says, “Dean will stay with me.”
Sam blinks, the grip around his cup of decaf coffee getting tighter. “Um, you and Dean already decided that?”
“I decided,” Castiel makes himself clear. “Dean doesn't get a say.”
Sam looks like he's about to protest, but just a second later he obviously remembers what a horrible patient his brother usually is. He would insist that he's fine and that he doesn't need any help or supervision and that they should just leave him the fuck alone and go with their lives.
“Yeah, we can't leave him by himself,” Sam agrees. “But, man, you've got a life, too. You don't have to put everything on hold –”
Castiel interrupts him by lifting his hand. “I know you will be busy with work in the next couple of weeks. And I also know that you will claim that it's not a big deal and that you can cut back the hours, no problem, even though that would be a lie. Because you, Sam Winchester, are just as bad as Dean in that department.”
Sam pouts, but doesn't deny the accusation.
They're brothers indeed.
“I, however, am actually able to cut back at the practice,” Castiel explains. “Balthazar and Gabriel have been pestering me for eternity to finally take some time off. I ignored them so far, but now I think I will take them up on the offer. They will manage without me for a while. I might be in a few hours here and there for some of my patients I don't want to miss, but overall I'm going to be able to take care of Dean without jeopardizing my career in any manner, contrary to you.”
Sam droops his shoulders. “He did so much for me in the past,” he tries to reason. “With Dad basically being useless and all that. And I made Dean's life hard by being an ungrateful brat … I just wanna help, you know? Take care of him for a change.”
“Dean would be mad at you for risking your job for him,” Castiel points out.
“I know,” Sam says. “But family is more important than any job.”
“It is,” Castiel confirms because at the end of the day he is totally right about that. “I'm not asking you to say goodbye to never be seen again, you know? But I have the time and the means to take care of Dean during the day and you're more than welcome to pay us a visit each night and cook us some meals or whatever since I'm pretty sure I will be utterly exhausted by then due to Dean being absolutely unbearable when being sick.”
Sam fidgets on his seat as he carefully ponders this over. “Well, I guess that can be arranged.”
Castiel smiles. “Then it's decided.”
Dean, as expected, isn't so delighted, though, that his best friend and brother are making life decisions on his behalf without at least consulting him first.
“I'm fine, guys,” he insists the next morning, flailing his arms wildly around as if to make some kind of point while Sam in the background has already started to pack his stuff into his duffle bag. “I don't need a babysitter.”
Castiel merely scoffs at that. “So you seriously believe you would be able to manage everything alone for the next few weeks?”
“Yeah,” Dean says, even though he sounds less than certain now. “I mean, yeah, I'm gonna take it easy, but I don't need to move into your house, Cas –”
“So you're saying you can take care of yourself?” Castiel cuts in, not in the mood for such an argument. “You can cook and do the laundry and clean your apartment and climb up and down those three flights of stairs all the time?”
Dean grimaces, clearly not looking forward to doing any of that. Still he says, “I'm okay, I'm not gonna die –”
“Dean!” Castiel interrupts once again. “Let us do this for you, will you? You would do the same for any of us.”
Dean pouts and Castiel just knows what is going through his mind right now. That this isn't the same. That he would happily take care of him, but at the same time nobody needs to bother thinking about him. That it's not necessary, that he's not worth it …
Sometimes Castiel just wishes he could raise John Winchester from his grave only to punch him in the face hard for putting these kinds of thoughts into Dean's head.
“If you don't want to do this for yourself, then let me do this for myself, alright?” Castiel tries to take another route. “I won't rest if I can't see you all the time and make sure that you're really fine. I won't sleep a wink and go mad with worry instead. Do you really want this for me?”
Dean just stares at him with an odd expression on his face while Castiel stands his ground, not backing down. Only a significant time later, with both at them just looking at each other in that intense way of theirs that has become their staple, Castiel suddenly remembers that Sam is in the room as well and he hastily adds, “I mean, we both feel that way, Sam and I –”
He blushes at the manner his voice stumbles while Sam merely stifles a laugh in the background, obviously not surprised in the slightest that he has been forgotten.
Dean, meanwhile, seems to run through a myriad of emotions. It appears he's fighting an inner battle and it's haunting him.
Before Castiel has a chance to ask if he's alright, Dean climbs cautiously out of bed, his legs still a bit wobbly, yet ultimately stable, and suddenly turns toward Sam. They don't say a single word to each other but instead communicate with their eyes in a way only close siblings are able to. Castiel has no idea what's happening between them, he just witnesses Sam frowning in confusion, but eventually nodding and leaving the room by mumbling a vague, “Um, gotta go, need to, uh …”
He's out of the room before he's able to come up with a believable excuse.
Castiel watches him leave, all bewildered, before he trains his attention back toward Dean. “Okay, I don't know what just happened, but this doesn't change my mind about you living with me –”
“Cas, listen,” Dean interjects, his tone so unexpectedly soft that Castiel finds himself stunned. “There is something … well, um, I guess there is something we need to talk about first. Before, y'know …”
Castiel wrinkles his forehead. “And what is that?”
Dean heaves a deep breath, apparently bracing himself for what is to come.
“I just …” He pulls a face. “I really don't wanna do this in a fucking hospital room, y'know, but I know myself. I usually can bottle all that stuff in, hell, I've been doing it for years, but apparently a near-death experience changes your perspective on things or whatever. And I know I'm gonna blurt it out rather than later and I don't wanna do this while we've been living together for like a week and you don't have a way to bow out gracefully if it's getting awkward afterwards, I just don't want you to feel obligated to deal with this if you don't want to, y'know …?”
Dean is clearly rambling, all nervous, and Castiel suddenly gets very worried about where this is heading.
“Dean, just spit it out!” Castiel urges, half-expecting to hear a horrible secret the very next second.
What Dean blurts out in the end, though, is, “I'm stupidly in love with you!”
And then his eyes grow all big, clearly shocked by himself for saying this out loud.
He even whispers an incredulous, “Fuck!” following that statement.
While Castiel …
Well, his world has stopped turning.
His brain has shut down completely and his jaw has gone so slack it nearly drops to the ground.
Because this …
This can't be true, right?
Castiel must have heard wrongly somehow.
Dean, however, is obviously about to topple into a full-blown anxiety attack as he goes on with his ramble. “Oh shit, I'm so sorry – but yeah, that's why I wanted to do this now – I don't wanna – God, you think I'm stupid now or high on meds or something, don't you? – it's not meds, though, I can promise you that – I've been feeling that for a long time – but yeah, sorry for dumping that on you like that – you can just leave, I won't be angry or something – I'm just gonna stay with Sam, to ease both of your minds, you overprotective weirdos –”
And so keeps going, talking himself into an utter frenzy.
While Castiel is still absolutely useless, just standing around and gaping.
Is this really happening?
Are his dreams seriously coming true?
Are all his powerful, consuming feelings actually reciprocated?
Is this for real?
When Castiel's brain ultimately, after many minutes, is coming back online he realizes that Dean is still ranting, more to himself than Castiel, and that he has obviously convinced himself by now that Castiel's silence is proof that he's made a huge mistake and that of course Castiel could never love him this way …
And no matter how shocked Castiel still is, he can't allow Dean to believe this for even one second longer.
So before the rational part of himself is able to stop him, Castiel steps forward, right into Dean's personal space, and interrupts his rambles by grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt and yanking him into a kiss.
It always looks romantic in movies, but in reality it's awkward and far from smooth. They're noses knock together painfully and neither of them seems to know for a moment how kissing even works.
But eventually Castiel finds Dean's lips and everything turns soft and sweet and so very wonderful. He must have dreamed about this a million times by now, one dream more breathtaking than the other, but nothing is able to beat the real thing. It's like they fit together seamlessly and Castiel's heart beats like crazy as Dean melts into him immediately and wraps his strong arms around Castiel's torso.
Castiel has never felt so safe before. Never so loved.
He almost cries at the beauty of this all.
And he could have stayed like this forever, but they're still in a hospital and despite his constant reassurances Dean is certainly not healthy enough to indulge in something like this for hours.
Besides, there is something that Castiel needs to say as well.
So after what feels like half an eternity and most definitely not enough time Castiel regretfully draws back a little and lets his gaze roam over Dean's face. His lips are kiss-swollen, his eyes glazed over (this time in a good way, though) and overall he already looks overwhelmed and debauched from a single kiss.
Castiel can't help but wonder what he might look like when they go further and then instantly blushes at the image.
“Cas …” Dean whispers, sounding like he's in awe as his breath brushes gently over Castiel's skin.
Castiel smiles at him easily. “I love you too, by the way.”
Dean blinks a few times, as though he's incapable of processing those words, but in the end he beams in a way Castiel has never seen before, so utterly happy, and then they're kissing again, tender and lingering.
They only stop when they hear some shuffling on the other side of the door and Sam tentatively asking, “Can I come in again?”
Dean and Castiel both chuckle.
And then they look at each other again, drowning in the other one's eyes.
Like they have done many times before in the past, but now all of a sudden feels so much more intense.
In the end Dean smiles once more and croaks, “Yeah, let's go home. You have to spoil me for the next couple of weeks.”
Castiel grins in return. “My pleasure.”
And Dean being Dean replies with a cheeky, “Oh, it will be your pleasure alright!”, just when Sam walks into the room and immediately grimaces forcefully.
“Seriously, Dean, I didn't need to hear that –”
“Jeez, Sammy, don't get your panties in a twist –”
“I'm just saying, I'm happy for you two, but tone it down, will you?”
“Oh, but it's my brotherly duty to traumatize you every step of the way –”
And so they bicker like that all the way out of the hospital, with Sam carrying the duffle bag and Dean holding onto Castiel, and it's the best Castiel has ever felt.