Dean drifted into consciousness slowly, just coherent enough to realize he was floating in a drug-induced fog. His mind sleepily fought to remember what happened and why he was here when a jolt of terror went through him:

Baby.

He had been driving with Sam after a late night out of movies, junk food, and a few beers (he was good enough to drive, he made sure of that before he left the house), and they were on a lonely stretch of two-lane highway headed back to Stanford. The radio was on, they were singing along to CCR, life was good for once…

And then a semi out of fucking nowhere.

The driver's side got the brunt of the hit, if he recalled correctly, which means Sam would've been on the opposite side of that, so he could be okay. He hoped to god Sam was okay.

His eyelids were too heavy to open. He heard the slide of the privacy curtain's rings, then drifted off again.

He didn't dream.

When Dean really came to, the TV was on the news and his roommate was talking.

"Gabriel, please, stop sending male prostitutes to my room. I appreciate your gesture of well-wishes, but I am in no state to engage in sexual intercourse at the time. It is especially unsanitary for them to be here as well."

His voice was gravelly, deep, and alluring. Dean couldn't help but smirk in his bed, because damn, this guy sounded like everything Dean loved wrapped up in an attractive package (even though he couldn't see the guy).

"Thank you, I'll talk to you later." He heard the phone click back into the receiver and a hearty sigh. He pried his eyes open and glanced to his right, and well, Dean Winchester was fucking good.

Blue, blue eyes. Scruffy brown hair that looked permanently sexed-up. Stubble. Looked pretty thin from what he could tell. Dean's dream man was lying in a bed across the room from him, scratched up and injured, but hot as fuck anyways.

He must've been staring because Blue Eyes looked over, eyebrows quirked in confusion. "You're awake."

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days since I've been here. I think perhaps a week, if I heard your doctor correctly." He tilted his head to the side. "Are you in pain?"

"Shit, no," he covered quickly, trying to mask the panic in his voice (oh god Sam where's Sam was it worse than I thought is Sam okay is Baby okay oh god Sammy where are you) with bravado. "Just a little shocked. Didn't think I'd been gone for that long."

Blue Eyes nodded. "Apparently it was a very bad wreck. They've been worried you were going to stay comatose for a lot longer."

"Thank god I'm not," he sighed. "I'm Dean, by the way. Figure we better get on a first-name basis if we're gonna be roomies for a while."

The other man smiled a little – just a tiny upwards twitch of the lips, barely noticeable – and nodded. "Castiel. It is nice to meet you, Dean."

"Same to you."

Oh, did Dean mean that.

Over the next few weeks, awkward room-sharing turned to easy friendship. Castiel – or Cas, as Dean had taken to calling him – was an English major at San Jose State with hopes to transfer to Stanford next semester. He had a bunch of older brothers (Michael, Raphael, Zachariah, Uriel, and Gabriel – his parents had a thing for angel names) and one older sister (Anna). His family was rather religious but not to the point of extremes – while Michael, Raphael, Zach, and Uriel all shunned him because he was gay ("It's their personal choice, Dean, it was not something my parents taught."), Anna, Gabriel, and his parents Elle and Roger were very accepting. Gabriel was the wild child of the family, and he lived in San Francisco, burying himself in women, wine, and all of the decadence life had to offer.

"He really is a considerate person," Cas had explained when Dean asked about the hookers. "He sometimes oversteps boundaries."

Cas learned that Dean was a mechanic who'd moved out to California to take care of his little brother Sam. His father was a miner on the East Coast, and they'd been raised by a family friend Bobby Singer. "He's your regular back country grumpy old man, baseball cap and all."

Sam was a law major at Stanford and was in the process of getting a free ride for grad school. Dean wasn't happy just because that meant free school, he was happy because it meant he could go back to South Dakota with Bobby and work at his junkyard, repairing classic cars. "They're my one true love, man, they never let you down."

Cas also learned that Dean had a borderline-unhealthy relationship with his car, a black '67 Chevy Impala he called "Baby."

"You are something else," he'd said, deadpan, and Dean cracked up. He was strange.

Their entire relationship was strange, though. It formed in less than a week. Funnily enough, they'd both been in car accidents, both been injured pretty badly (but Dean was far worse). Cas was scheduled to stay for a while, as was Dean, and they bonded over that fact. Dean yelled at the TV during Jerry Springer. Cas got emotional over Masterpiece Theatre. Dean got Cas into Star Trek when they stumbled upon reruns one afternoon, and Cas returned the favor by having Anna bring in his laptop so they could watch Doctor Who. (If Dean was hopelessly in love with the Doctor, he didn't show it. The blue boxes in his dreams were new, though.)

Four days after Dean came to, his brother finally came to pay him a visit.

"Bitch," Dean said before Sam was even all the way in, "where the hell've you been?"

"Sorry, when they discharged me I had to run back to Stanford for my scholarship interview." He rolled his eyes and sat in the chair next to Dean's bed, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. "Good to see you up though, man, I was worried sick."

"I had no idea if you were even alive, you asshole."

"Jerk."

Castiel chuckled from his side of the room, clearly entertained by the brothers' antics.

"Oh, Sam, this is my roommate Cas, he's pretty cool. Cas, this is my overgrown brother Sam."

There was Sammy's trademark smile and friendly wave. "Hey, nice to meet you."

"Same to you. I've heard a lot about you from your brother."

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh god."

"Good things, mostly, don't worry."

"Yeah, basically told him about how you're a freakin' boy genius and how you're at Stanford. Cas wants to transfer in," Dean supplied and then instantly regretted it as Sam left his bedside and went to talk to Cas about school and classes and blah blah freakin' blah. Nerds.

While Sam and Cas talked academics, Dean watched from his bed and realized that the scene in front of him, aside from being in a hospital, was really, really nice. His brother was beaming as he talked about his scholarship interview (which had gone amazingly well, apparently) and basking in the glow of Cas' frequent compliments. Seeing Sam this happy was pretty rare since he had the big falling-out with their dad, and Dean was glad to see it any time he could.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he sort of maybe had a little crush on his hospital roommate who he barely knew. Nothing at all. He didn't like his smile or his eyes or his laugh or his voice, or the way he glared at Dean when he was being spectacularly annoying during Jerry Springer, or the way he asked Dean to rate the nurses that came in and out of the room on a hotness scale of one to ten. That wasn't it.

Sam stayed until the staff kicked him out, promising Dean he'd be back the next day with a report on Baby's status – he'd been in and out of the hospital so quickly he managed to have her transferred up to Bobby's (and yes, it cost a hefty fee, but Baby was worth it and Sam knew that).

That night, as Castiel snored quietly mere feet away (and okay, snoring wasn't usually cute, but Cas snoring was so goddamn cute Dean wanted to die), Dean let his mind wander.

It didn't go far.

Every fiber of his being was fascinated about the guy he was sharing the room with. He had an odd way of speaking that seemed far too formal for here and now. His eyes could see into your soul. His brother Gabriel called every day and kept insisting on prostitutes until Cas had to say "Gabriel, you know I am not like that!" and slammed the phone down. He was gay, he'd said so when they first started getting to know each other, but what could he mean by "not like that?"

So yeah, as much as he hated to admit it, he'd kind of gotten a crush on Cas. He tried to rationalize it – it'd been a while since he'd found anyone remotely attractive and appealing in more than the "just sex" way he'd grown used to. Cas was really good-looking and didn't treat Dean like a pest. He loved to talk about books and stuff, and he was so interesting and everything Dean looked for in a person, not just a guy. It made sense that he'd fallen fast and hard over this dude.

Hell, that was weak even to himself. He was just being stupid.

Really, really stupid.

Especially considering that this whole friendship wasn't gonna last past Cas' discharge date.

Dean didn't sleep well that night.

The first words out of Sam's mouth the next day were "Baby's so fucked you're gonna have to fix her yourself when you get your ass up to Bobby's."

Dean groaned, closed his eyes, and mimed shooting himself in the head. "Shit. Couldn't open with good news?"

His brother's grin was frighteningly bright.

"I got the scholarship. They called last night." Damn, Sam was tearing up and so was Dean and holy hell, he'd gotten a free ride to Stanford Law to get his degree.

"Jesus, Sammy, congrats! Knew you had it in you, man, I'm really freakin' proud." He held out his hand and grunted in half-shock, half-pain as Sam pulled him up for a rare but bonecrushing Winchester hug.

"Congratulations, Sam. You deserved it."

"Thanks, Cas, man." Sam smiled, still by his brother's side, beaming. "God, it's so relieving, y'know? Not having to worry about how to pay for it all next year."

Dean nodded. "Tell me about it. Hell, free ride includes room and board, right?" After Sam nodded, he laughed. "Bye-bye California, hel-lo Singer Scrap."

"Only you would prefer a South Dakota junkyard to California."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

So maybe three grown men giggling at each other wasn't the most dignified sight. But hey, it was a good moment.

It shouldn't have upset him so much. He knew the day was coming, knew it was inevitable, but he never thought it would actually come.

Cas was leaving.

The flowers and balloons were taken down by a lovely redhead ("I'm Anna, I've heard so much about you," she said sweetly when she first came in) and a spastic midget who Dean could only assume was Gabriel. Castiel was off getting examined one last time before he checked out, and damn if the room didn't feel cold and empty when his siblings were gone.

Dean was lying back, eyes closed, trying to sing some Metallica in his head to drown out the emotions when he heard someone at the door. "Just a moment, thank you," the gruff voice said, and shit.

He wiped his eyes and shook his head before he looked at Cas. "Hey man, breakin' out?"

There was a weak twitch-smile on Cas face as he wheeled himself to Dean's bedside. "Yes. I have been deemed healthy enough to return to my normal life."

"Gabe hired some prostitutes to celebrate?"

Cas chuckled and rolled his too-blue eyes. "Perhaps, but he knows I will turn them down. I'm homoromantic and demisexual, you see."

"Demisexual?"

"I only experience sexual attraction when I've formed an emotional bond with someone. Prostitutes, therefore, are practically, well, useless to me."

Nodding, Dean smiled. "That's really cool, man. I'll, uh…"

He paused. This was the part he'd been dreading – the actual goodbye.

Dean hated goodbyes. He never actually said the word because it always felt way too permanent. In this case, "see you later" held too much hope and promises that wouldn't be kept. "Talk to you soon" implied a little too much.

"I'll see you around," was what he finally settled on, hiding his sadness with ambivalence in the most common Dean Winchester way.

"Same to you, Dean."

And then the man who captivated him (and the man who was most likely his soulmate) wheeled out of the hospital room door and effectively out of his life forever.

He was in the hospital for another two weeks – his organs had healed from some internal bleeding shit they'd done, finally, and the doctors felt he was stable enough to go. His leg was still broken (and he got a basic white cast, no matter how bad Sam wanted him to get the hot pink) and he still felt like he'd, well, been hit by a truck, but he was so ready to get out of that room. His replacement roommate was some freaky guy named Alastair who'd apparently gotten a little too worked up during some BDSM shit with his partner and had forgotten the safe word.

Yeah. Nothing like Cas at all.

He went through his final examinations as quickly as he could. He didn't like being in a wheelchair, but as the really nice nurse (Tessa was her name, and she was such a sweet girl he didn't even wanna date her – he just wanted to take her out for coffee and a talk) wheeled him out, he felt pretty okay about it because Bobby, Sam, Jess, and hell, even his half-brother Adam-the-camera-guy, were all there smiling to greet him.

Jess swooped in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Please don't get yourself almost killed again anytime soon, stupid."

"Hey! It's not like I did it on purpose!" He couldn't stop smiling though as Sam came forward and slid his arm around her waist. There was something different about him, something… lighter. Dean furrowed his brow and stared until…

"Holy fuck you two are engaged."

Jess squealed, Sam shone like a ray of sunshine, and hell, even Bobby and Adam looked happier than Sherlock Holmes at a crime scene. (Okay, so maybe Castiel had also gotten him into Arthur Conan Doyle's books, too, so sue him.)

After general congrats to the happy couple, and they were genuine because Jess was a badass chick and she totally fit in with their crazy family, Bobby called Dean an idjit, and Adam rolled his eyes and said "I'm glad you're okay, man, I would've been out sooner but we were filming all week for this new TV show."

Dean smiled and held out a hand. "No problem, man, surprised to see you showed up. We're not exactly the closest people."

Sam took control of Dean's wheelchair and started them out to the parking lot.

"Sometimes it takes almost losing someone to see how stupid your relationship is."

"Jesus, Adam, when did you get all deep and intellectual?"

He just shrugged.

Sam and Adam kept talking as they walked, while Jess basically won Bobby's heart (and approval) by being herself. Dean was thrilled, really, but there was a certain person he just couldn't get out of his head. He was so wrapped up in thought he didn't even notice when they'd reached the car.

It was a 1973 Camaro with a black paint job and red racing stripes. Okay, yeah, that car was hot and totally drool-worthy, but the guy leaning so casually against it was even hotter and more drool-worthy. He was smirking, wearing an outfit that screamed "hot teacher," and Dean could practically feel Sam looking all smug behind him.

"You asshole," he muttered, and Sam just burst out laughing. Cas pushed himself off the car and hobbled forwards, one leg still in a cast.

"So apparently you act like a lovesick fool around me." It should be illegal to sound that cocky and arrogant and sexy. "That's what Sam's told me, anyways. Said you haven't been like that since the last girl you loved – Cassie. I find it rather… funny that the names are so similar. Regardless, Sam requested that I be here today to surprise you."

"Sam," Jess prompted gently, "I think you and Bobby and Adam and I should go grab some snacks for the drive back to Dean's. C'mon." She led them away and Dean said a silent prayer of thanks that that brilliant girl was dumb enough to take Sam.

"Well then, what else has my dick of a brother told you?" He tried to play it off cocky, but he just felt nervous and unsure and very un-Dean.

"You hide your emotions with humor, bravado, and fronts of indifference. You're really incredibly smart but no one takes you for an intellectual since you work with your hands. He hasn't seen you happy in a very long time, and he thinks that I have a chance at making you happy. He said our bond was something he hadn't seen since the first days he'd known Jess, and look at them now." Castiel smiled his little grin and Dean practically melted, tempted to grab his tie and kiss him senseless.

"He has a really big fuckin' mouth then."

Rolling his eyes, Cas leaned forward. "Tell me he's wrong."

Giving into his instincts, Dean tugged him down and kissed him – just rough enough to show him how bad he wanted this, but chaste enough not to scare him off. Cas responded unsurely, lips moving tentatively against Dean's and he broke away.

"Sorry pal, no can do."

If Cas and Dean were a little pink in the cheeks and a lot breathless when the rest of the group returned, so be it. And if they kept sneaking little looks at each other on the drive home that made Adam fake retch until they stopped, well, that was just how it was.

They were strange. Everything about their relationship was strange. But it was too good to pass up.

Let it be said that the car wreck that destroyed his Baby may have been the best thing to happen to Dean ever.