Summary: When Dean Winchester is rushed into the ER after an accident at Bobby's leaves him with a broken arm, he expects nothing more than the standards. Pain meds, surgery, a cute nurse here and there. But never did he ponder the thought that an incredibly alluring intern by the name of Castiel Novak would catch his attention, or the fact that the very moment he stepped into room 117, their lives would drastically change.
Castiel Novak flipped through the paperwork piled on his desk with a sigh, scratching at the stubble on his chin. Under his eyes were dark bags, what seemed to be a permanent side effect of medical school. A new graduate, the young man had taken up his residency at Sioux Falls General, currently holed up in the offices of the ER wing. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to see EMT's rushing new patients down the halls, shouts and words of panic of loved ones echoing throughout the corridors.
The man had seen a lot of death in such a short amount of time during his stay there. There came a price with being a man of medicine, for not everyone makes it out of that wing when brought in. The doctors would make him tell the parents of injured children and the partners of dying lovers, that the ones they were waiting for would not be coming back. The tears were what broke his heart. Apologies never really made much difference, no matter how many times he'd say sorry.
The healing was what made it all worth it to Castiel. That's what got him through medical school, what got him through the first few months of his time at the hospital. No matter how many lives were lost, he knew he'd always be able to save one.
Castiel set his pen down, eyes shooting up at the sound of a new patient entering the wing. The nurses seemed relaxed, even with their quick pace. So, nothing serious, he thought to himself. He caught sight of the unknown patient on the stretcher, a glimpse of his arm in a bloody twist of a mess. "Fractured ulna?" He murmured softly. "Perhaps. Nothing I need to be apparent for." He had already seen his share of arm injuries in the emergency ward- and he had paperwork to fill out.
A few hours later, the young doctor set off to do his rounds. Usually the nurses on the floor would tend to the needs of patients, but with him being new to the scene, he always offered himself up to do the job. Meg, the nurse he was closest to, would simply laugh at him. "Alright, angel, whatever floats that boat of yours" she'd say, before disappearing into the breakroom.
After visiting a few patients, one with a broken nasal bone and another who had suffered from a severe heart attack, he came across room 117. Patient name, Dean Winchester, who had in fact, suffered from a fractured ulna.
Castiel knocked on the door softly, sliding into the room with a smile. "Hello, Mr. Winchester. My name is Dr. Novak. I'm here to give you your medication for the pain."
A voice like gravel made Dean's eyes swing down from the tv to a gaze of striking blue and a kind smile. "Thank God." He could feel the effects of the anesthesia starting to wear off, and a slight pain was building below the plaster cast cradled to his torso.
His hand swept over the thin hospital blanket, nose crinkling. He always hated hospitals... They reminded him of death, of his father- he stopped.
When Dean spoke, his voice cracked for a second before he coughed to clear it, blaming it on the painkillers. "Uh, yeah, hi. I was hoping someone would come by soon. Listen, has my brother showed up yet? Shaggy moose, about yay tall." He raised his arm as high as he could get it from the bed, meeting the man's inquisitive blue gaze as he moved over to fumble with Dean's IV or whatever. He didn't really pay attention, instead leaning his head back on the crinkly hospital pillow and took out his phone.
"No, I haven't seen... a moose around these parts. Or your brother." The doctor's voice was even, as if he were slightly confused at the question.
If his brother wasn't bothering to come by, then that was his choice. He'd just call Jo or someone to pick him up when he was released. "How long am I gonna be here, anyway? I've got things to do. Oh, and when is this cast coming off?" It would be extremely difficult to work on cars with a broken- what had they said, an ulna? That was nearly his entire forearm. No wonder it hurt so bad.
He knew Bobby would be lenient with him, but bills had to be paid and all that. The hospital bills themselves were going to be expensive. He could tap into his savings a little bit if he needed to, but he'd prefer not to. A second job would probably be the best way to go.
Castiel blinked, pulling out his clipboard to check out his sheet. "Fracture, to be exact. On a scale of one to ten, how is your pain level, Mr. Winchester?"
"Two." He scribbled Dean's answer down on the sheet with a nod.
"That won't constitute any medication. It says here that you'll most likely be discharged tomorrow afternoon. The break will take approximately six weeks to heal, but you will continue to feel pain in the area for an extended period of time. It is possible that it will take even longer. Strenuous weight or use of the injured arm is not recommended for another three to four months." Castiel met his gaze with a sad smile, writing down a small note at the bottom of the paper for his mentor to read later.
Dean's face scrunched up at the realization he wasn't getting any meds. Maybe he should have lied. Dean was far from a junkie, unless pie was a drug, but it was always nice to take advantage while you could. Getting hyped up on meds would have helped him escape the rolling of his stomach each time he looked at the hospital room in front of him, felt the hospital gown draped over his body. He had another day to sit here, and no Vonnegut to occupy his time. It was just crappy sitcoms and fashion shows on the tv.
"I am most sorry about the injury," he started, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "I'll be back in to check on you. Your pain medication will be given to you at a later time, due to your current level of pain." He clicked the pen he was holding with his right hand, fidgeting slightly in the other man's presence. "Is there anything else I can get you? Something to drink or eat?"
He groaned internally and kept his head leaned back, this time with his green eyes closed. "Thanks doc," he almost sneered, "but I think I'll be fine for now." He couldn't stop from running his mouth, the mocking tone he used making him sick. But hey, he was Dean Winchester. Almost everything he did made him sick, and he was in a hospital, wasn't he?
Before the intern could even say something, Dean was opening his mouth again and raising his head to meet those blue eyes with his own. "Sorry, that was actually really rude. Some water would be appreciated." And some company, he wanted to add, but refrained from it. Castiel seemed nice enough but that's all Dean would let himself notice about the guy. Well, that and his intense blue stare, the way his mouth moved with each word spoken, the mess of dark sex hair upon his head, the gorgeous shape of his- Dean put a wall up between his thoughts and the track, before they could run right off.
"I will get you water right away," Castiel noted before disappearing into the hallway. Several minutes passed by, the clock ticking ever so tauntingly as he waited. How long did it take to get a glass of water? was the only thing on the Winchester's mind. At least, all that he would allow.
It wasn't long after that, that the man stepped back in. He had knocked again out of sheer courtesy to the patient, but continued forward into the room without a response. "I apologize for it taking too long, I had to tend to a patient's needs a few rooms over. Here, I got you your water." He placed the cup onto the wooden table beside the hospital bed.
"Thanks," he replied, reaching over with his left arm to pick up the glass. Which of course, didn't go over too well. The water splashed onto his gown before it'd even made it to his mouth, and Dean scowled.
"Are you, having troubles?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.
Dean looked up at him with a look on his face that read no, I just spilled my water all over the place, what the fuck do you think?
Castiel met his hazel eyes with a questioning look, observing the awkward mess the man had made, then to the face he was making. He frowned, "do you want me to move the table to the other side of the bed so it would be more accessible? Or would you like me to hold the drink for you?" His tone was serious, the offer no joke.
"You'd actually hold my water for me?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.
"Of course." Was his response, the unspoken 'it's my job' hanging in the air. He cleared his throat again and shook his head.
"I'll manage... But the table could be moved over yeah. If, uh, that's not too much trouble." He felt odd about having him do stuff for him; if his arm was working he'd have moved the damn table himself. Hell, he could have gotten his own water. Dean Winchester didn't like depending on others, never has and never will. It's his job to take care of so many, including himself, that being stuck in bed with someone even remotely fussing over him made him uncomfortable.
After Castiel had moved over and dragged the table to the other side, he looked ready to fret again and Dean didn't want that, didn't think he could handle it. Instead he held up a hand to cut off the man and instead gave him a pointed look. "You got other rounds to do?" He asked instead.
"No, you were the last patient I had to check in on." He spoke again, convincing Dean that he did actually eat rocks and gravel for breakfast.
"Well then, Cas, either sit down or get out. Stop.. Hovering there, staring at me. Kinda giving me the creeps."
The doctor to be raised an eyebrow at the man. "Cas?" The confusion seemed to spread across his face and into his vocal cords, questioning Dean's nickname. He pushed the name aside, tapping his clipboard. "I suppose, I could, uh, visit for a short while."
Castiel took a seat in the chair a few feet away from the patient's bed, settling his work onto his lap neatly. "It says you are a mechanic? Is that how you sustained the injuries?"
Small talk had never been his forte. Sitting idly, talking about silly things that would not matter in years' time. Maybe even days, with the date of discharge of the Winchester patient. However, Castiel knew that a little human interaction would not hurt. It came with the job, right?
Dean's lips spread into a childish smirk at the mention of 'Cas'. "Yeah, was working on a car and next thing you know Bobby's calling 911 because the damn lift didn't support its weight."
"How unfortunate," the man said, straightening his back as he rubbed his cheek. "I suppose you would be rather grateful that you were not under the car, fully, when the accident occurred. Better a fractured ulna than death."
Dean wasn't sure what was up with the doctor. It was as if he was making a handful of jokes, but never smiled or laughed with his words. His tone never changed, hardly a rise or fall in the way he spoke. It was as if he lacked all social skills when it came to conversing with the human kind.
So he decided to make a joke himself. "Yeah, 'cept a broken whatsitcalled still sucks. I'd rather not have broken anything at all, actually. It brings down my street cred." He wasn't sure what to make of the man sitting by his bedside, especially the fact that he just scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion and tilted his head slightly to the side at Dean's words.
"Your... 'Street cred'?" Castiel asked, tentative, the words rolling off his tongue as if he wasn't sure he was saying them right. "How does a fractured ulna result in the suffering of someone's... Street credit?" His blue eyes met Dean's and they stared at eachother for a moment until Dean coughed into his hand.
"You know what, forget it." He glanced around, then squeezed his eyes closed tight and rubbed his hand against them. He really didn't want to be here, in this bed, or room, or hospital with the whitewashed walls and permanent chemical scent.
"Is your arm hurting you?" Cas's voice seemed far away, tinted with a mix of curiosity, confusion and of course, concern.
Dean didn't grant him a response immediately, instead kept a fist to his face for a while longer before letting out a large sigh and looking at the dark haired doctor/nurse/helper/whatever the hell he was. Dean didn't care all that much. "Yeah- no, no I'm fine."
"Alright, that is good to hear." Castiel brought his attention to the papers once more, not quite sure how to go about the conversation with his patient. Usually he would have gone by then, but with Meg on his case trying to convince him to live a little, he remained in room 117. Though in his mind he knew there was another reason. Interest. Intrigue. Dean's personality had been magnetic, although he couldn't put his finger on why.
"So, you just gonna sit there now?" The mechanic shifted in his bed, eyes fluttering open to steal a glance at him. "Cause, really, it's not much better than the whole just standing there thing. You kind of have to talk."
"Right, my apologies, Mr. Winchester. I just, cannot seem to find any words I'd wish to verbalize to you. Do not get me wrong, I would like to, but I don't know what to say." Castiel blinked, feeling slightly guilty. Friends and small talk had never been a priority with medical school in his sight.
"What, cat got your tongue?" Dean sighed and sat up straighter, composing himself and grabbing his glass of water again. Castiel waited while he did so, ready to help if he had difficulties, but Dean managed just fine. "So, what's your occupation? You're obviously not a doctor, right?"
"I'm a medical student grad. This is my first year working residency." Castiel watched Dean for a moment after he spoke, before opening his mouth again. "Basically, I'm an intern."
"Wow, so you must be busy often." Dean flashed a grin, and when Cas seemed oblivious to his flirting, he amended his question. "You ever get some free time?" He knew he seemed pathetic, sitting in a hospital gown in a crinkly sheet with bags under his eyes and a cast to his chest, but there was something about the man beside him that interested him. It wasn't just his attractive features, it was the way he spoke, the intensity he had when he paid attention to Dean's words. While he acted like it made him uncomfortable (and it did, just a little), it also made Dean feel like he was being listened to, like he was worthbeing listened to. And despite the fact that he didn't deserve most of what life seemed to give him (he deserved the shit it threw at him instead), he felt like maybe he could have this. Some kind of bond, with anyone other than Sammy and Jo and Bobby. Even if Cas was straight, spending time with him as an acquaintance, a friend, seemed like something he'd enjoy. If it ever came to that.
Castiel tilted his head at Dean's question. "I get free time," he responded, suddenly aware something had shifted in the conversation. He hadn't been sure, however, what that change meant. "It's only a residency, mind you, Mr. Winchester. I have a set schedule. But you wouldn't know that."
"Well, um, good. Everyone needs a break," Dean nodded at the reply. Before he could get out another word, something clicked in Castiel's mind.
"Why? Were you asking if I was free, because you wanted to spend time with me?" When he grasped a situation, the man had a way of being forward with his words. He sat up more, suddenly very invested in where the conversation was heading. Intrigue, he had thought previously, only covered a distance of curiosity Dean made him feel. "Because, I would not mind if that were an offer. You seem like pleasant company."
The Winchester boy froze in slight shock. "Well, I'm proud of you for catching onto that so quickly." He snorted, regaining his composure.
Dean thought for a moment about when he would be able to spend time with Cas. Not for the next day or so after he leaves the hospital, Sam would fuss over him then. But he was pretty sure Bobby would let him have the next week or so off from working. "How's this Friday sound?" He asked, albeit a bit uncertainly.
The cautious tone nearly went over Castiel's head, since there was no need for it. Instead a smile broke his handsome features as he 'thought it over.' "Sounds like a date."
Noticing Dean's eyebrows rising into his hairline, he huffed. Wrong choice of words? "I mean, not a date date, of course," he tried amending it, and the man's expression changing again confused him even more. Was that disappointment?
"Of course," Dean replied, masking all feelings aside. Why did he feel a pang of... no he'd rather not ponder it. "Not a real date, I understood you, don't worry." That answered all questions about Castiel's sexuality.
The doctor-to-be huffed, jotting the date down on a blank piece of paper. "I get off my shift at six in the morning, so how about five later that day? It'll give me time to rest before." He stopped, racking his brain for ideas of what to say next. "What do you want to do? I only ask because you brought it up. Do you have something in mind?"
"Yeah, yeah of course. That sounds fine... And uh.." Dean hated taking someone to the movies on a first date, and especially when you were just "hanging out" with a friend. "Maybe just go out for a drink?" He almost tacked 'and dinner' onto the end of that but thought better of it.
"I wouldn't mind a drink," Cas replied, and Dean couldn't help his smile. "Here, let me give you my number so we can arrange the place later." He turned, searching for a piece of paper to jot it down and settled for a sticky note stashed in Dean's file. He wrote quickly and handed it to the mechanic, who accepted it gratefully.
"I'll keep in touch," though he already had a good idea where they'd be going. The Roadhouse had the best burgers and pie around, no doubt. Speaking of which- "hey, Cas, d'you like pie?"
It took a second to register the question since it seemed to come out of nowhere, but he nodded with a small grin. "Well, I've had few experiences with pie. My sister Anna once attempted to make an apple pie for Thanksgiving one year and it failed miserably. The entire kitchen nearly went up in flames," his eyes were bright at the mention of a happy memory with his family. "Pie has been banned from gatherings until one of us actually properly learns to bake a pie since. But to answer your question, yes, I do enjoy pie."
Dean mused at the story, noticing the way his face relaxed into a happy expression. It suited the man across from him. Suited him well, he might add. "Sounds like some Thanksgiving you had there."
"Hm, yes. Since then, I've learned how to make pies with her. Unfortunately, she's not really around to practice anymore. She was upset because she wanted to redeem her skills this year, but the boarding school she's at doesn't allow students- Oh," he halted mid-sentence, "I'm incredibly sorry for rambling on about unimportant details of my life, Mr. Winchester."
"No, no, Castiel. I don't mind. And it's alright to call me Dean. Actually, I'd prefer it." Mr. Winchester reminded him too much of his father, of where exactly he was and what had happened last time he was in a hospital room, Sammy at his side while they tried to get John to respond... Dean mentally shook himself and smiled encouragingly at the intern. "It's either listen to you or some whiny, sappy kid from 'Days of Our Lives.'" He rolled his eyes before straightening back up on the cot, hating the flatness of the pillow behind him. "What doesn't her boarding school allow, Cas?" He asked, to help encourage the man to continue talking.
And he did, looking extremely grateful. Not just that, though. If possible, Castiel's gaze had sharpened even more, as if there were something about Dean he wanted to figure out. That damn head tilt was gonna kill him for sure, Dean knew.
Then Castiel was speaking again. "Well, alright, Dean." A smile graced his lips, and suddenly words were rolling off his tongue, coming out effortlessly. "Her boarding doesn't allow them to use the kitchen. That sounds harsh, now that I think about it. Anna had a knack for rebellion and my father was not overly fond of it. Eventually, it ended with her in a school for troubled teenagers, and they don't really trust their students with fire hazards.
"But I seem to have babbled on.. I do really appreciate the fact you wanted to listen, though. I do not converse with others very often," he admitted. But he was sure Dean had already caught onto this fact, it wasn't too difficult to notice when engaging with Castiel. The brunette licked his lip, an attempt to prevent drying out. "But, the pie, you were saying something about it, were you not?"
He noticed the way Dean's emeralds of eyes remained attached to him in pure interest. Cas had never experienced the intensity of someone's stare before, not like this, or the way that no matter what he seemed to say it would end up satisfying Dean. And he liked it.
"Yeah, pie..." Dean grinned in an attempt to get the odd tension out of the room. It didn't work, though, and instead seemed to become thicker, nearly palpable. So he coughed, a forced sound, into his fist that he then raised and rubbed against the back of his neck awkwardly. He had to restrain himself from watching Castiel lick his lips. Geez, has he never heard of lip balm? "So, yeah, I kinda love pie and I feel as if I should warn you. Sammy says I can inhale two whole pies in one sitting. It's obviously an exaggeration."
The way Dean's voice lowered to a stage whisper made Cas's eyebrows pull together over his blue eyes. "Yes, I figured it was." He replied cautiously. "I would hope someone, especially a man like you, wouldn't consume two whole pies. It can be very perilous to one's health." When Dean began to crack up, he realized he must have missed something.
"What, did I say something funny?" Castiel crinkled his nose, deciding on whether to keep speaking. "I would not think anything regarding your health would bring so much amusement." This only caused Dean to laugh louder, almost to the point where he was choking on his own hysteria. Cas pushed his clipboard aside to stand, rushing to his side in worry.
The Winchester merely waved his hands, urging him to calm down. "I'm fine, I'm fine, Cas." He let the laughter settle back into his throat before cracking a wide grin. "But thanks for running to my side."
"I don't understand, I thought you were.. You have left me rather flustered in thought, Dean. Why were you laughing?"
"'Cause you're such a chucklehead, that's why." Cas shot him a perplexed look, the words only leading him to plunge deeper into his own mind.
"A chucklehead? How am I..." He was over thinking again, he reminded himself. His bright eyes flickered to his feet and he moistened his lips once more with his tongue. "I, uh." And then he was radiating, his laughter blissful, almost like a rocky melody that rang throughout the room.
Dean figured he could get lost in that sound, Castiel's laughter. It filled him up, made him giddy and smiling and his cheeks hurt from it but he couldn't stop. Instead, he sat all the way upright and swiveled on the hospital cot. When his legs went over the edge and Cas's laughter almost stopped abruptly in concern for him, he just saved it off. "I wanna walk around. Join me?" He offered the invitation with a raised eyebrow and the same smile still on his face, though not as blindingly bright. Castiel couldn't say no.
"We really shouldn't... You're supposed to remain in your room for the remainder of the night," he tried, but Dean was already to the door, still in that ridiculous hospital gown and- oh. Castiel pointedly avoided letting his eyes fall lower than Dean's shoulders, resulting in him staring into the man's eyes again.
"Um, Dean," he coughed to attract his attention. "I think you might want to, er, cover yourself up. If you understand what I mean."
Dean frowned as he turned around. "What's wrong with what I'm in?"
Castiel remained focused on Dean's eyes, and onlyhis eyes. "Well, you're exposed in the back and I do not think that's entirely appropriate." He glanced around, noticing the cabinets, which held extra gowns. He hurried over, opening one and rooting around for the article of clothing.
"At least put this on, we don't want you walking around exposing yourself." He buried his clipboard into the crook of his armpit, assisting his patient into the gown that served as a jacket. "There. Not too long though, you need your rest."
Dean rolled his eyes and thanked him before trotting off with Castiel at his wing. It took him a bit of an effort to walk straight , the drugs that coursed through his system from the surgery still lurking in his veins. He couldn't help but notice Castiel fussing over him, constantly making sure he was going to be alright. "Hey, I'm fine, Cas. Don't need to get so worked up."
"It's my job, Dean. Surely you understand that." He double checked his list before glancing up to him once more. "Which reminds me, what is your pain level while walking?"
"Uh, well, it was my arm that got hurt, not my leg, so pretty much the sa- fuck! Nevermind, make it a five," Dean cursed again and stepped away from the cart that had popped out of nowhere. Of course, having been looking back at Cas he hadn't seen it and the corner had hit his cast. He wanted to shake it off, run out the pain, but he couldn't.Damn stupid malfunctioning car jacks and heavy car bodies and cars in general.
"Dean? Do you want to return to the room?" Cas asked from behind him, and he sighed, turning and shaking his head. "No, I'm actually kinda hungry. I've been through worse so.." he shrugged and brushed past Castiel, because he was nearly on top of him with his lack of personal space. "Quit frettin', I'm not a baby." Didn't anyone ever teach the guy about boundaries?
Castiel pressed his lips together at the comment. "Okay, but as soon as you eat, we're returning to your room to give you your medication and for you to get some rest. Does that sound reasonable to you?"
Dean shrugged in acknowledgement of the question, but didn't bother to really answer it. Although after hitting his arm, the meds were sounding inviting. "Direct me to the cafeteria, Cas. Pretty please," he added on jokingly.
Their eyes caught each others' and everything seemed to slow down. It was an unusual experience for Castiel, his breath hitched at the sight of Dean's smile. It was unethical and impractical to feel attraction to a patient, he understood, but it was impossible to fight such emotions. Denying human sexuality its natural course was like attempting to live without breathing.
"Of course." And that was that. Cas pushed away all thoughts regarding the man next to him, at least for the time being.
When Castiel looked away, Dean snapped out of his trance. "Right," he huffed, voice gruffer than it had been a moment ago. He blamed it on anything other than the intense look they'd just shared, but followed the soon-to-be doctor nonetheless.
The following day, Dean was discharged from the hospital, "'bout damn time, too." Sam just rolled his eyes and shook his big hairy moose head and got the rest of Dean's stuff- not much, due to the fact he hadn't had much on him at the time of the accident. As he was leaving, Sam walking on ahead without noticing, the mechanic stopped. He had Castiel's number, yeah, but it'd be nice to say goodbye. He'd actually expected the man to show up when he was leaving.
Just as he turned to go, Cas turned the corner and smiled at him. He was glad to have made it before Dean left for good, and quickened his stride a bit so as to not keep him waiting. "Hey Cas," was the greeting, and he returned it.
"So I see you're heading home," the man noted in a gruff voice. "You must be excited to leave, I understand you weren't overly fond of it here."
Dean chuckled to himself at the comment, shaking his head. "Well, I had a pretty cool doc, so it wasn't all that bad." The mechanic pulled on his leather jacket as he spoke. "And I got a few numbers during my stay."
Castiel raised his eyebrow in question. "Numbers? You've been rather busy, Dean." His eyes scanned the document before him, and he etched a few words onto the paper without breaking the flow of the conversation."I thought you had practically spent your entire stay with my company." Dean rolled his eyes at him, wondering if he ever had gotten a joke in his entire life.
"Yeah, I never said I kept them all." His grin was wide, bearing his teeth. "I'm jokin', Cas. But hey, I should get back to Sammy before he wanders off too far without me. I don't think he has caught on to the fact I'm not three steps behind him." This led to sniggling from both ends, one sniggle more subtle than the other.
"Right. Well, I guess I will see you on Friday then." Castiel held the papers to his chest. "And don't forget to take your medication at the assigned times, alright? It will help with the pain, I promise."
"It'd better," he grinned, turning his torso while also still tilting his head toward Cas, before he swung his entire body away. "See ya Friday." If Dean was hoping the other man was watching his ass as he left, he wouldn't admit it, because it probably wasn't happening.
The rest of the week was all just a big build up for Dean. It was filled with him lazing around his apartment, watching bad sitcoms and reruns of Dr. Sexy, MD while he timed the intervals when he had to take his medication and pass out. He was filled with anticipation and anxiety, because what had he been thinking when he'd booked a date with his doctor/nurse/intern? That's it- he hadn'tbeen thinking, too hyped up on pain medication and the infatuation he felt when he looked into those eyes, those painfully blue and intense eyes that stared at him, as if they knew him and could figure him out if they looked long enough. He was too entranced by the mass of dark sex hair atop his head, like he'd rolled out of bed and hadn't thought to do anything other than run a hand through. Castiel's gravelly voice, a male siren's call, and Dean realized he was only convincing himself why he should go on this "date," or "hang out" or whatever it was going to be.