Chapter Text
Dean blinks his eyes open slowly. He tries to get a look around, but it’s much too bright. Conceding defeat, he closes them. There seems to be some sort of drum circle in his head, and it only gets louder with the increase in light.
God, he feels like he’s been hit by a bus.
He can’t even remember the last time he’s been this hungover. Maybe high school. Certainly not anytime recently.
He struggles to pull up his memories to figure out what could have possibly made him think it was a good idea to get drunk enough to feel this shitty. He tries to remember a bar, or a friend’s house maybe, but nothing comes to mind. The last thing he can remember is being called in as backup for the paint warehouse fire.
It had been too big a fight for just one truck, and Dean hadn’t even given a thought to his day off being ruined before he’d jumped in his car and rushed to help.
He pulled up to the station and found Benny, Jo, and Max ready and waiting.
He suited up quickly, and the truck was pulling out of the station in record time.
The building was massive, and the flames stretched even higher, licking the sky with unholy glee. It was no wonder they were called. The other truck was doing all they could, but their single hose wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
They got to work right away, and between the two teams, they even seemed to be succeeding. Luckily, there were no buildings nearby that the fire could spread to. It looked like slow and steady was their only option, anyway.
But then there was the girl. She had ratty unwashed hair, and soot on her face. And when she came to them crying, they thought she was upset that her temporary home had caught fire. But that hadn’t been the case at all. The last time she’d seen her friends they’d still been in that building. Which meant things were much more complicated than they seemed.
The heat was extreme as he and Benny approached the area indicated by the girl. The flames had been pushed back enough to risk going in for the rescue, and they hadn’t even paused once they got the ok.
His memories were a little blurry after that, but he does remember the groan of the building shifting. It was a terrifying sound, and it never meant anything good.
He shared a glance with Benny, and they moved as one back toward the exit.
And then, pain.
A shot of adrenaline rushes down Dean’s spine as he realizes the danger he’s in. He’s not hungover. He’s been knocked out. And if he doesn’t get his ass up and moving, he’s probably going to suffer a lot worse than he already is.
He grits his teeth against the pain in his chest, clenches his abs, and presses his elbows into the soft surface below him in an effort to force his body into moving. Pain lances through his chest and sprinkles down his sides, and before he can convince himself that he has no other choice but to push through, there are hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down.
Someone is here, thank God! He is filled with relief at the realization. He won’t have to find his way out on his own. He doesn’t have to die here, like this.
“Be still, Mr. Winchester! You’ll aggravate your injuries!”
The voice is feminine and unfamiliar, and Dean only has time to send a prayer that she’ll be able to get him out before the blackness settles around him again.
When Dean next opens his eyes, the welcoming sight of his brother greets him. It frightens him for a second, but only as long as it takes him to realize he’s in a hospital. He’d made it out after all.
Sam is sitting in a chair at his bedside, book in one hand and a styrofoam cup in the other. He looks rather peaceful for a man sitting at his brother’s deathbed.
Dean means to tell him how offended he is, but the noise that comes out of his mouth can barely be described as speaking, and as soon it escapes him he’s thrown into a coughing fit. The worst part is the pain that sears through his veins at the action.
His lungs are on fire. There’s no other explanation for the pain. His lungs have spontaneously combusted, and the fire is spreading through his entire torso. He tries to curl in on himself, and that only causes more pain.
Sam’s gigantic hand is on his shoulder in an instant, pressing him back down to the bed.
“Just… lay still. I’m going to get a nurse.”
Sam’s face is finally filled with the worry Dean was going to mock him for not having earlier, but he doesn’t feel like he’s won anything. He just feels like shit.
Sam gives him a nod before quickly exiting the room.
As much as Dean would like to point out the little red button on his bed that calls the nurse, he has no desire to try speaking again. He’ll just have to wait and make fun of Sam for that later. He reaches over to push the button himself but gives up before his hand makes it even halfway there.
Now that he’s finally stopped coughing, he tries to take stock of his injuries. There’s no telling how long it’ll take Sam to convince someone to come check on him, or if that person will even be able to tell Dean all of his injuries, anyway.
He starts by wiggling his toes, just to have somewhere to begin. It doesn’t cause him further pain, so he moves on. His knees bend, and there’s no pain there. His fingers and arms are in good working order, too, which means he can place the pain he felt when reaching for the button somewhere else.
Before he can get any further into his investigation, Sam comes back in followed by a short, dark-haired woman.
“I think he was trying to talk, but he just kept coughing!” Sam says, and the woman rolls her eyes. Sam can’t see it where he is wringing his hands at the end of the bed, but Dean can.
“Your brother inhaled a considerable amount of smoke in the fire.” She says, glancing at the heart monitor before seating herself on a rolling stool that she pulls close to the bed.
“But that was two days ago!”
Dean is shocked to find out the fire was two days ago. He wants desperately to ask what happened that left him out for two days, but the memory of the last time he attempted speaking stops him.
Dean watches as the woman visibly refrains from rolling her eyes again.
“Yes,” she says slowly, as if she’s talking to a particularly dim child, “but we had to put a tube down his throat and help him breathe. It will take a while for his throat to heal.” Her voice is sickeningly sweet, in a way that Dean can’t help but think is mocking.
The news that he’d had to be intubated is a surprise. At least he was unconscious at the time. He’s never had a tube down his throat before, but it never seemed particularly appealing when he had to do it to others. And the way she said it made him think it wasn’t removed very long ago.
“He looked like he was in a lot of pain,” Sam says, casting a worried glance at Dean.
The nurse glares at Sam. Dean interprets the look as a “let me do my fucking job.” She turns her attention to him and her expression softens a bit.
“Mr. Winchester, I need you to tell me how much pain you’re in. I know that it’s difficult to speak, so you can just use your fingers. On a scale from one to ten, one being a minor annoyance and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how much pain would you say you’re in?”
Dean snorts at the professional tone she uses with him as opposed to the one she’d used with Sam but immediately regrets it as it causes pain to explode in his chest again. He lifts one of his hands with all five fingers raised, but thinks better of it and lifts the other to add another finger.
“A six?” she asks, and Dean nods an affirmative.
She rolls her stool away from him, pushing herself back toward the desk near the door where she begins typing away on a laptop Dean hadn’t noticed before.
“A six, Dean? Really?” Sam asks, incredulous. “It looked like you were dying! Stop trying to act tough.”
Dean just shrugs a bit, since he can’t really make an argument without the use of his vocal chords. He really does feel awful, though, so instead he raises another finger.
The nurse notices the change and rolls her eyes again.
“Ok, let’s try this,” she says, rolling her chair back to his bedside. She reaches out a finger and taps Dean lightly on the sternum.
Pain explodes outward at the contact, and Dean whimpers as he throws both hands up in defense.
“So, that’s a ten.” She looks satisfied as she rolls back to the laptop.
Dean blames Sam for that little incident, but when he turns to glare at him, Sam’s horrified face says he’s already blaming himself. He mouths a “sorry” at Dean and grimaces. Dean gets the impression that Sam is a little scared of his nurse.
“Don’t bother glaring at him. I was going to lie about your answer, anyway. Your doctor is very conservative with pain management, and I don’t agree with his methods.” She’s staring directly at the screen as she speaks but turns back to him. “Your injuries are fairly extensive, and I know you are in pain. I don’t want you to tough it out. I need you to be honest with your pain levels. If you are experiencing any pain above a five, I need to hear about it. Nod if you understand me.”
Her words manage to make Dean feel a little guilty. This woman is just trying to do her job. He nods.
“Good.” She nods sternly. “Now, I’m sure you have some questions. I’m going to get you some water and something for you to write on. You shouldn’t try talking again for a little while. Your throat will be fine, but the coughing is likely to exacerbate some of your other injuries, and we don’t want that.”
Dean nods again, shamefaced.
“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She stands and heads out the door, but not without passing a glare at Sam that seems to make him shrink down into himself.
There’s a moment of silence.
“Your nurse is fucking scary.” Sam says, glancing toward the door as if afraid that she’ll still be there.
Dean just nods again.
It doesn’t take long for Dean to be grateful that his nurse is so concerned for his well being. The longer he’s conscious, the more pain he’s in, and he doesn’t mind telling her when she comes to check on him.
She’d given him a little dry erase board to write on, and as she steps into the room he quickly writes down a nine and a sad face before holding it up for her to see.
She sighs heartily and drops onto the stool to record the number. “I know. I’m sorry. The doctor is not cooperating.” She types quickly, and when she finishes she pulls up to his bedside again. “The good news is, he’s about to head home for the day, and the night doctor is much more willing to listen to me.”
Dean nods, mostly because it’s the only thing he can do.
“I know it sucks, but at least you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight once the doctor approves the pain meds.”
Dean sincerely hopes that’s true. He knows a lot of the things used to alleviate pain also seem to make people pass out. And he really needs to pass out. And not only because of the pain.
Sam seems to have taken it upon himself to fill the silence that comes with Dean not being able to speak. Dean has heard every single thing that has popped into his brother’s mind for the last three hours, and he’s about to strangle him. At least Sam is mostly silent when the nurses come in to check on him.
“Meg.” The voice at the door startles all three of them, and their attention swings that direction.
“Doctor Novak. What are you doing here?”
His nurse’s name is apparently Meg, and Dean is a little ashamed that he hadn’t thought to ask her.
The doctor steps into the room and Dean is delighted to see Castiel. Somehow it hadn’t registered that Castiel would work at this hospital. He cuts an impressive figure in his scrubs and white coat. All of Dean’s Doctor Sexy fantasies pale in comparison, really.
“I came to check up on the patient.” Castiel leans over a bit as he scrolls through the notes Meg has been taking on the laptop. When he finally seems satisfied, Castiel’s full attention turns his way.
“Hello, Dean.” Castiel offers him a comforting smile. “How are you feeling?”
Dean writes an eight on his board and holds it up knowing the doctor will be able to decipher it.
“I’m sorry to see that.”
He erases the number, changing it to a ten, and making an arrow that points to the right. When he holds it up again, the arrow is pointing toward his brother. He rolls his eyes to accentuate his point.
Castiel’s smile turns amused. “Who’s your friend, Dean?”
When he lifts the whiteboard again it has brother/Sam written on it.
“Sam.” Castiel’s gaze switches to where Sam sits in an incredibly uncomfortable chair at the end of Dean’s bed. Sam hops out of the chair automatically, and Castiel puts his hand out to shake.
“It’s very nice to meet you. I’m doc- Castiel. Although, your brother has taken to calling me Cas.”
Sam’s eyes flick to Dean quickly, suspicion evident in the look, but his manners are still impeccable. He shakes Castiel’s hand firmly, just like Dean had taught him many years ago.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“I wonder if you could do me a favor, Sam.” Castiel says without preamble, and when Sam nods he continues, “Will you see if you can find Dean some coffee? The heat will be good for his throat.”
Dean is elated to hear Castiel come up with a reasonable sounding excuse to get Sam to give him a break. He hasn’t even had a chance to explain how Sam was causing him pain. Although, he supposes it’s probably common for family members to cause most of the problems for patients.
“Dean told you to get rid of me, didn’t he?”
Too bad Sam knows him so well. What a waste of a perfectly valid excuse.
“Yes,” Castiel answers automatically, and Dean rolls his eyes. It figures that Castiel is a terrible liar.
Instead of sticking around to yell, Sam just sighs. He sends Dean his best kicked-puppy look but heads out the door without argument.
Dean writes on the board again, and holds it up for Castiel to see.
Thank you
“Of course.” Castiel doesn’t look convinced that he’s actually helped, but Dean has already forgiven him for telling Sam the truth. It’s refreshing to deal with someone who doesn’t bother to lie.
Has he been here the whole time? He asks, truly worried that his gargantuan brother has been folded up in that terrible chair for days.
“I believe so.”
Can you send him home for a while?
Castiel nods in response, so Dean quickly erases it and writes again.
Doctors orders. He needs to shower.
The smile he receives in response is soft, and Dean thinks he might not have been able to hide his concern for his brother as well as he’d thought.
Castiel doesn’t call him on it, instead changing the subject completely. “Why are you using the whiteboard? Your throat should be fine by now.”
Dean trusts the doctor knows what he’s talking about, but as he opens his mouth to answer he sees the sharp glare Meg throws his direction and he snaps it closed again.
Castiel turns to follow his line of sight.
“Ah, I see. Meg has forbidden you from speaking.” His face is serious, but his tone is amused.
“The coughing is only going to cause him more pain,” Meg explains, not sounding the least bit ashamed that she’s been caught.
“Yes, that’s probably true.” Castiel nods, thoughtfully. He turns back to Dean, leaning in to stage whisper. “You’re very lucky to have Meg as your nurse. She’s the best we have.”
Dean can tell that Castiel is dead serious, and it makes him feel better about being so easily cowed by the woman. He scribbles a note quickly and holds it up.
Sam is afraid of her.
Meg snorts gracelessly.
“I can’t say I blame him,” Castiel answers, and Dean grins.
Castiel leaves to return to work and Sam comes back as Meg excuses herself. He’s carrying a giant steaming cup, but there’s a guilty look on his face.
“I know he said to bring you coffee,” Sam starts, and Dean already knows where this is going, “but your nurse said you needed sleep, so I got you some tea.”
Dean rolls his eyes, but before he can even gather the energy to write out a complaint, Meg comes back through the door. Her face is brighter than it had been the last few times she came in.
“Guess what I have?” she says, and holds up a bag of clear liquid. She doesn’t wait for an answer, just moves to the stand where Dean’s IVs are hanging. “This is the good stuff, Dean. I think you’re really going to like this.”
She has to jump a little to get the bag on the hook, which is kind of adorable. She has such a large presence Dean hadn’t even realized how short she is. Once the bag is up, she fiddles with the vials and tubes. She presses some buttons until she seems satisfied and then turns her attention to Dean.
“The doctor finally approved your new pain management regimen. You should start feeling better soon.”
She seems so proud, Dean thinks she’s the one who came up with the new plan. Castiel told him that she was the best nurse, and Dean believes him. He jots down a thank you and a smiley face, even with as bad as he feels. He trusts her when she says it’ll be better soon.
“Alright. I do have other patients, but I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” She turns and walks out the door without waiting for a response.
“Well, she’s certainly efficient,” Sam offers.
Dean waves a hand to get Sam’s attention and shows him the board.
Cas says she’s the best.
Sam nods, but his gaze turns shrewd quickly. “So, how do you know Cas?”
Dean groans. He knows Sam’s not going to let this go, but there’s no way he’s writing the whole story out.
Ask Benny about the hot doctor. He writes instead.
He knows that getting the two of them together to make fun of him is probably not the greatest idea, but he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it himself. And he knows Sam won’t be letting it go anytime soon.
Sam grabs his phone and is typing up a storm within seconds. Dean’s sure he’ll regret letting Benny tell his story later, but with Sam occupied and quiet it’s easy for him to fall asleep. He spares a second to wonder how quickly the drugs Meg gave him will work, but he thinks the answer might be unnecessary’ as he feels darkness tug at him.
Dean knows his consciousness fades in and out after that. He remembers Benny coming for a visit, but he doesn’t remember him leaving. He must have fallen asleep before Benny had a chance to say goodbye.
He knows there have been at least two different nurses in to check on him, but he doesn’t remember their names or even what they asked him.
He knows that Sam was gone at least a couple of the times he woke up. He hopes that means he went home and got some real sleep. He doesn’t know if Castiel ordered his brother to leave like he asked, but someone must have. Sam isn’t the type to think of his own needs while someone he loves is injured.
He does a quick assessment of how he feels. He’s not as out of it as he has been the last few times he’s woken up, and he thinks they must have lowered his dosage. He can feel his injuries like a dull ache, but they aren’t nearly as bad as they were the last time he was fully aware like this.
He hears what sounds like paper turning, and he turns his head that direction.
Dean barely opens his eyes, but it’s enough that he can see the outline of the person sitting beside him, and he knows it’s Cas.
“You never called me,” he says. He doesn’t know why it’s the first thing that comes to his mind. Maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s been in the room with Castiel without an audience.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been zonked out, and he has a hard time piecing together exactly how many days he’s been here.
“It’s not as though you gave me much time to gather the courage before you showed up here.” Castiel’s voice is intimate and closer than Dean initially thought him to be.
Dean turns his head the rest of the way, and let’s his eyes open completely. Castiel’s bright blue eyes fill his vision.
“How long have I been here?” Dean’s voice is still scratchy, probably just from sleep, but he’s learned his lesson about clearing his throat so he doesn’t bother.
“You’re on day four. Your doctor will probably release you to go home tomorrow.”
Something about that doesn’t sound right, and it takes a moment for Dean to figure out what’s wrong with it. “You’re not my doctor?”
Castiel startles and leans back a bit at the question. “Of course not!”
Dean can’t help but frown at the clear affront in Castiel’s voice, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out why the doctor would take offence. When he does, his lips turn up into a smirk instead.
“Because you’re not allowed to date your patients?” he asks, and watches as the familiar redness spreads across Castiel’s face in response.
“Well, yes. That is one of the reasons.”
His voice sounds embarrassed, and Dean swells with amusement. Even after all the times it’s happened, making Castiel blush is still one of his favorite things.
“Does that mean you’re actually going to call me when I finally get out of here?”
Castiel’s blush spreads across to his ears. “Of course.”
Dean likes that answer. Of course Castiel was going to call him. “We can go someplace nice, right? I’ve just spent the better part of a week laying in the same place.”
Castiel looks amused. “You’ll be on bedrest for at least another week, but we can plan something for after that.”
Dean probably could have figured that out for himself considering he’d been unconscious for two days, and spent two more days in a drug-induced haze. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to complain about it.
“Another week? That’s two weeks of laying in bed. We’ll have to do something extra fun to make up for it. How do you feel about drag racing?”
Castiel’s amusement seems to grow. “You’ll probably be on light activity for a couple weeks after that.”
“Aw, man! Why you gotta kill my dreams, Cas?” Dean whines, teasing the man further.
Castiel’s face falls, just like it always does. “I’m sorry.”
This time Dean’s not going to let it get awkward between them, though. Now that they both know they’re interested, there’s no reason to. Before he might have worried that he was pushing too hard, but Dean’s beginning to understand that Castiel is just a very logical person. It’s not that Castiel doesn’t want to do things with Dean, he just knows it’s not really a possibility for a while. It’s become pretty clear that Castiel’s used to his blunt way of talking upsetting people.
“Well, you can still text me right? Keep me company while I’m laid up?” Dean asks with a hopeful note in his voice. He hasn’t had a chance to figure out how to get Castiel out of his own head yet, but he’s willing to try.
Castiel isn’t nearly as bad at this as he seems to think he is. His gaze analyzes Dean for a moment, but he lets the awkward moment pass without comment. “I can do that.”
“And we’ll have so much time to plan, there’s no way our date will be anything less than perfect by the time we get around to it,” Dean adds with a grin.
Castiel’s returning grin is a small, but he looks as relieved as Dean is to see the awkwardness pass. “We will have plenty of time to plan it.”
Dean would normally be content to let the moment last, but he knows it won’t be long before another nurse comes in to check on him, or Sam will show to harass him. His smile grows as he pulls his hand from under the blanket.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
A rush of joy passes through him as Castiel automatically reaches forward to link their fingers together.
“I suppose having nice hands is a requirement for a doctor.”
Dean thinks Castiel’s blush will never get old.
“You enjoy embarrassing me, don’t you?”
“I really do,” Dean admits with a grin. “And this whole time you thought it was the universe conspiring against you.”
Castiel looks thoughtful for a moment. His eyes clear and he looks right at Dean as he says, “Maybe the universe knew what it was doing all along.”
Dean smiles, glancing down at where their hands are joined. He doesn’t know if he believes in things like destiny, but it’s a little hard to deny it after all the times he’s had to rescue Castiel. As if an outside force has been pushing them together.
“You were the doctor on duty when I got here, weren’t you?”
He’s unsurprised when Castiel nods an affirmative. If something really is out there working to get them together, Dean is grateful.