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"Stop fussing, Sam. You'll have your strawberries soon enough."
Dean's tone of voice is soft, but his sharp words leave nothing unclear. Sam tenses his all body and lifts both of his hands, wrapped in support bandages to keep his wrists from bending inwards, and then drops them limply to the table with a bang. Dean startles, and Castiel sees a fleeting expression of terror in his eyes.
It's soon covered, however, and Dean turns swiftly towards the table. He checks Sam out — looking deep into his eyes, palming his cheeks, brow and above and below his neck brace, squeezing his hands, taking his wrist — so quickly that Castiel almost misses it. Then, not missing a beat, Dean looks at his brother seriously.
"Sam, what was that? You know better than this."
Sam lets out a high-pitched grunt and arches his body as far from the back of his wheelchair as his safety harness lets him. Then he closes his eyes, shaking his head uncoordinatedly, his long, brown bangs flying around his head. Dean sighs, a long-suffering sound, and sits down to the kitchen chair opposite Sam's, crouching closer to him and taking his hand inside his own.
"I know, buddy," he keeps on more gently, like they just had a long, silent conversation, which end is the only thing Dean puts into words. "Still, you must try. You are not a baby, Sammy, and I'm not gonna treat you as one. You are a young man, and you know how to wait your turn."
Sam inhales at that, with a long and dragging whimper that's meaning seems to be all clear for Dean. He smiles and lifts his hand, patting Sam's shoulder. "I understand, you know I do. But there are rules in this house, Sam. And we also have company now. Don’t you want to show Castiel your good manners?"
Sam closes his eyes, letting out long, whining sound, and Dean holds his hand lightly on Sam’s shoulder. Castiel watches, gnawing his lip, and Dean glances at him and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Castiel smiles and relaxes at the soundless message.
They wait for some minutes, Sam keeping on his protest, Dean’s hand unyielding on his brother’s shoulder and Castiel sitting where he is, trying to stay invisible. Then Sam sighs, moving his head first up and then down, cooing softly and shifting towards his older brother, expanding his loosely curled hand.
Dean looks at him, smiling. "Do we have a deal?" he asks, and Sam coos again, this time with low and even softer voice. Dean nods, getting back up to his feet and turning Sam’s chair back towards the table.
"Okay, buddy. Well done," he says. "That's it, I guess," he keeps on, inviting Castiel back to the company with a glance and walks back to the counter where he has all the ingredients of a strawberry, chocolate sauce and cream dessert on display.
Castiel has his answer ready. "I could really help," he offers as Dean drops a couple of handfuls of the berries — Sam's portion, Castiel guesses — to a mixer to be pureed all smooth, but Dean shakes his head mildly, taking the knife again and continuing his disturbed work of cutting the rest of the strawberries into fours.
"I'm okay," he tells him. "I'm almost ready anyway. Lean back and be our visitor for a moment more. When we start to eat, you may give us a hand."
Sam turns to look at Castiel, and he smiles back to the boy he will work with from now on. "Precisely," he says. "You have much to teach me, Sam. Maybe we can start with the strawberries?"
Sam's answer is a grin, and that one Castiel gets without any problem. The younger brother seems to be so open towards him although it was just yesterday when they met. Castiel looks at Dean who still makes the desserts for them three, currently chopping some mint leaves.
"Dean?"
"Mmmhmmm?"
"If you are sure you’re good with the food, maybe me and Sam could go over to the living room meanwhile?"
Dean lifts his head, looking surprised, but smiles and nods anyway. "Why not," he complies. "Sam, maybe you could show Castiel some of your stuff? They are in the bookshelf, Sammy knows where."
"That’s what I thought," Castiel says with content. He really hasn’t made any straight contact with Sam yet except the short hellos and waves, and he’s dying to know what his employer really is like. Dean clearly isn’t very much willing to leave Sam far from him, so Castiel has to feel proud of his little ploy in making it happen.
He turns back towards Sam who’s following Dean’s cooking with a keen eye. He’s not quite sure how to get Sam's attention as long as his older brother is around, so he’s happy when Dean takes the initiative.
"Sam," the older brother says to his younger, coming closer and making contact with a soft touch on Sam’s arm. Castiel has met many kinds of people and he has used to many being more comfortable with the physical distance. He makes an instant note of how Sam leans towards his brother, almost craving the proximity.
"You know what?" Dean says to Sam, his hand stroking up and down Sam’s arm, the movement seeming so natural it’s almost instinctive. "Castiel knows you, me and Charlie now, and he just might be around for a while. So I’m thinking wouldn’t it be nice to let him meet Mr. Melman and the other guys too? You could ask how they like Castiel, wouldn’t you?"
Sam’s answer is a soft coo - a sound Castiel has heard many times by now and finds simply adorable - and he twitches his head towards Castiel almost in an evaluating manner. Then he expands his fist slowly on his lap, and Dean stands up to settle Sam’s hand on a joystick along Sam’s armrest.
"Just go beforehand, I’ll be right after you," Dean says and turns to nod at Castiel encouragingly before he goes back to his work with the food.
Castiel walks evenly after Sam who moves his wheelchair further with the help of his joystick. He recognizes there are no mats on the floors, but some edges between the rooms there are that he puts on his mind. He lets Sam set the pace, not minding of the little bumpy stops, and almost feels a pair of green eyes on his back as they go.
It’s only natural, he reminds himself. Actually it makes him feel quite good. The attention Dean gives to Sam means protection. It means love. It means that Sam has a safe haven in this world, someone he could always come to.
Sam has wheeled himself to one of the closest shelfs, the one that has three layers and only the highest of them is full of stuff. There are some books on a pile, a couple of baskets and an assortment of plush toys sitting side by side. Sam voices sharply and arches towards the toys, not getting there though as his arms stay where they are along the armrests, only slightly twitching, while his hands expand in a grabbing motion. Castiel makes a note on Sam's mobility and steps forward in an attempt in helping him, when Dean’s voice from the kitchen makes them both draw up in surprise.
"Sam, are you being nice in there?"
The boy huffs and plops his hands down, and Castiel swallows a chuckle. "Let me help, Sam," he says. "Those are a little far away, I can see that."
He squints his eyes, letting them roam over a stuffed squirrel, giraffe, moose and two snakes as well as a couple he can’t really tell what creatures they are. "So, which one of you is Mr. Melman?"
Sam chuckles and squeals, his excitement back, as Castiel takes his hand to feel the toys one by one. "This one, Sam? Oh, not the squirrel?"
As he takes the giraffe, Sam coos and expands both his fists, arching his back a little to get closer. Castiel smiles at him. "So, he’s the one?" He asks and puts the giraffe on Sam’s lap. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Melman. I’m Castiel."
Sam laughs out loud when Castiel talks to the giraffe, his expression and voice all serious.
"He’s Sam’s safety toy," Dean’s voice says from the door and Castiel turns towards it. Dean stands in the door opening, leaning onto the wall, his eyes oddly misty and dark. Castiel stands up as well.
"I’m honored to meet him," he says solemnly, and that coaxes Dean’s smile back on his face. The green of his eyes is again the emerald it usually is, and Dean nods at him, smiling kindly.
"Sam has a zoo here," he says, coming closer to be on Sam's line of sight as well. "Mr. Duckie is over there, as well as Wormy and Tails. The snakes. And those two creatures are nameless so far. We bought them not so long ago from this little toy stop at the mall, but haven’t decided what species they are representing. If you have any idea, feel free to help us out."
Sam chuckles and coos as Dean comes close and pats Sam’s arm, looking at Castiel and nodding toward the shelf. "In those baskets, there are masses of therapy toys, puzzles and lights and stuff. The cabinets down there as well. You are free to use them all. And Sam’s CD’s are in one basket too. We have Spotify now though so they are just in storage there."
Castiel nods, eyeing the collection appeciatively. "Sam and I can do masses with these," he says. "You have done quite a shopping."
Dean waves the praise away, his eyes crinkling in the corners though as his smile appears. "Well, we have had years and years to get it."
Castiel feels like he would have said something else as well, but then the alarm goes off in the kitchen and Dean's expression changes as he draws up and glances back there.
"The dessert is ready," he announces, already scurrying towards the next room. "Shall we?"
—
After he’s left the Winchester brothers’ house, Castiel heads for the library. He has taken mental notes during both the time he has spent in Sam and Dean’s home and the interview the other day, and he wants to take the advantage of the time he has left before he and Sam will be left all by themselves.
Castiel has earlier experience of caregiving for the people with injuries or illnesses that have bound them to a wheelchair — Mrs. Rosie, the latest of his employers, having been paralyzed from her waist down and Nicky, the young lady he worked with who had advanced MS — and he worked for a period in an outpatient ward where the clients had different kinds of disabilities. But never before were those two features connected in one person. Castiel doesn’t see that as a problem though, same as Dean didn’t during the interview, but Castiel wants to feel prepared.
He knows that every single person is an individual and so is Sam, but he also knows that there are some care protocols that are considered general. On his list, Sam’s medication and especially the side effects and contraindications are high on it.
He also wants to learn some about physical therapy exercises used in cases of profound disabilities, and he wants to know something about special health vulnerabilities he might have to face with someone like Sam — Dean has clearly a sore spot on him considering Sam’s hardships, and this soon in their acquaintance Castiel has felt a little apprehensive to get very deep on the subject, at least for now. It might be easier to ask questions as well if he has some fresh knowledge already, he thinks.
Many everyday things in being a caregiver are familiar to him, and that makes his task much lighter. Mrs. Rosie needed help basically with everything that was anything about using her lower body, and Nicky’s advanced tremors made her hands shaky so she needed help with tasks that asked for fine motor skills. So, Castiel has the most important everyday routines covered quite nicely. It’s the details that need studying.
So, he gathers his lap full of useful seeming books, takes his place behind one of the free computers in the library data room and gets into his task.
—
When Castiel stirs back to the present, the sun is significantly lower than when he came. He glances around him, noticing that there are no others in the data room, and the ancient clock on the wall is showing quarter to eight.
He blinks and stretches his form, once more skimming through his notes — almost twenty pages of densely written information — and gathers the books in two piles, useful and not so much.
When he walks towards the bus stop, heading for a further one to walk away the stiffness from his body, he opens and checks his phone. Three calls from Balthazar. He sighs and calls back — the band-aid is easiest to take off with one, quick pull, right?
Balthazar picks the call at the first try.
"You think I need an everyday mentor calls now that I have this new job, Balthazar?" Castiel all but snaps when his older brother answers the call.
"What?" Balthazar’s voice is perplexed. "No, I have greetings from mom."
"Alright, I apologize," Castiel sighs, adjusting the weight of his backpack on his shoulder. "It’s been a long day."
He practically hears Balthazar's big brother radar going haywire. "Don’t tell me you were at work this long," the older man’s voice rumbles on the line. "With these private employers, you need to stay alert."
"Balt..."
"No, no, listen to me. I know what I'm talking about here." Balthazar sighs and takes a pause.
"Alright, let's hear it." Castiel settles in listening, gauging his whereabouts at the same time. He usually takes the bus home from the closest stop, so he isn't sure which way the next stops are located.
"Being a single carer for a loved one can be daunting," Balthazar explains on his ear. "They may not do it on purpose, but It’s just so relieving for them to have someone helping that they easily cross the lines. You need to stay adamant, Castiel. No-one else is here to take care of your reasonable hours than you."
Castiel gulps down the snarky remark "and you". Balthazar means well, he knows. "I know, thank you, Balt," he says, keeping polite. "I was in a library, doing some research for the job."
"That sounds a little better," Balthazar states, his voice more relaxed.
"So, where are you?" Castiel asks in turn. "Still at work? Speak of the devil?"
"Yeah, in my office. But I closed for my patients three hours ago. You should remember, Cassie, that the hospital administration is a whole another job in itself."
"Yes, I know." Castiel halts at the bus stop, suddenly deciding to walk a little more. It feels good to move, to feel the crisp evening air and all the scents around. "So, what mother was all about? Why didn't she call me herself?"
"You know mom," Balthazar says vaguely, and Castiel decides right at that second to let it be. "She just wanted to remind you of Aunt Muriel’s birthday."
Castiel sighs. "60 years of Chanel No. 5 and fierce arguments," he says softly.
"Yes, and all the big, crazy family under one roof," Balthazar adds. "Don’t worry, it’s still three months from now. Mom just wants to make sure we all are coming."
"Good luck with that," Castiel quips bitterly. "I’m sure at least Gabe will have his flying tickets ready for the Bahamas by then."
Balthazar chuckles. "Don’t let mother know that," he warns. "Speaking of tickets. You should make your reservations now. It’s not cheap to fly to Philly that time a year. Amelia did ours yesterday, and she said the prizes were already rising."
"Of course they are," Castiel murmurs.
"We can give you a loan for it if you need," Balthazar states helpfully.
Castiel shakes his head, even knowing that his brother won’t see it. "Thank you, but no," he says politely. "I have savings. Don’t forget to tell me though if you all decide at the last minute to fly into the Bahamas. I’ll join you with gladness."
Balthazar laughs. "I won’t," he promises. "I need to keep working. Let’s get back to it, shall we?"
"Fine," Castiel says. "Enjoy your work."
"Don’t stay up too long."