Note: First off, if you're reading this then you've found my fic! Hi! *waves at you*. Before you begin reading this story though there are a few things you should know. One, this is essentially a fanfiction that deals with many sensitive subjects such as cancer, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, past abusive relationships, alcoholism, and death. If any of these things trigger you please do not read this. Second, this is a fanfiction dealing with a Dean who has ALL [acute lymphoblastic leukemia]. I've done lots of research on this type of cancer and I'm going to try to keep my story as accurate to my research as possible, however I have never experienced cancer and there are sure to be errors throughout the piece. I know a little bit about cancer since my grandmother had it, but I know that is nowhere near the same thing as having it yourself. Therefore I will try really hard to be accurate, but please know that I am not an expert on this subject. Finally, this is still a work in progress. I do not know when I will have the fic finished because I'm working full time this summer while also taking an online course, so please be patient with the updates! I will try to work as fast as I can, but I also want to put out quality work that I'm proud of instead of just slinging something out for the sake of updating.

If you know more about this type of cancer or cancer in general and find something inaccurate in my fic, please don't hesitate to send me a message. I will try my best to fix any errors pointed out to be as soon as possible.

Thanks for giving my fic a chance; I'm still a newbie to the fanfiction world and am still learning, so constructive criticism and general feedback is appreciated.

Enjoy!

It all started when Castiel was a child, a young boy of eight years who singlehandedly won the school debate competition. He remembers it well; the students hoisted his slim frame up onto their equally thin arms and declared him king of the third grade. His mother hugged him tight and held him close, whispering how proud of him she was in his ear. His best friend, Jessica Moore, said that he was "the coolest guy to ever live." In Castiel's eyes it was only one competition, nothing to get excited over really, but his father thought quite differently. After that day he wasn't looking at Castiel Novak, third grade debate champion; he was looking at Castiel Novak, future heir to the family law firm in the making.

That's how he ends up here in this damn coffee shop at unholy hour of seven in the morning, slinging back espresso shots like he's prepping for an all night study session. The small space is already abuzz with student athletes coming back from their six o'clock practices, complaining loudly about the workout their coach put them through that day. Castiel just rolls his eyes as they drone on about mundane things such as how hot some girl is or how much weight they're lifting in the gym. For once he would love to overhear some intelligent conversation, but he guesses this isn't the group to demand it from.

Castiel sighs heavily as he wipes down the counter with one of the disgusting rags they have lying around, his eyes fluttering close every two seconds. Most days he loathes this job with his entire being; the pay isn't that great and the hours are almost cruel. Seriously, who needs coffee at four in the morning? Shouldn't these people be sleeping or something? But every time he thinks about giving it up his father's voice rings loud and menacing in his ears, that smooth tone crawling into this psyche. I'm counting on you to graduate with your pre-law degree, Castiel, no matter what. If that means working your ass off in a coffee shop thirty hours a week then that's what you'll do. You're my only hope to keep this business in the family. Mess this up and I'll never forgive you.

He shivers as the words of his father, Lucifer Novak, once again reverberate through his mind. It spurs him to pour another shot of espresso and chug it down in one gulp, the warm liquid slithering down to his stomach and shaking awake his mind. That eerie voice still lingers in his head through the morning rush, motivating him to check every order for perfection, to make every customer feel like they're at home. Even though it's a scare tactic he appreciates his father for the gesture. It reminds him of his purpose in life, of what he's been destined to do since he was eight years old: finish college and become a lawyer. That's what his father has been telling him since that fated debate competition all those years ago, saying that this is the way things are and have to be.

If he was being honest with himself, Castiel never questioned it. The Novak law firm had been in the family for over a hundred years, passed down throughout the generations. As the oldest son it is his responsibility to carry on the legacy, to live up to his Novak namesake. If that meant slinging coffee orders over counters and cleaning up after messy hipsters to pay the bills, then so be it.

The rush comes and goes, Castiel's espresso high wearing off with the receding of the crowd. He looks around and sees the sun filtering in through the windows to warm the now empty space, idyllic jazz music playing in the background. Even though he sometimes can't stand his job, he's always loved this little coffee shop for its charms. The yellow couches that are scattered throughout the space fill the room with brightness, put off by the inky black pillows. The barista station has any spice or syrup you can possibly think of, and the music (while being incredibly odd at times) is soothing to his busy mind. Especially at times like these where the room is empty except for Castiel, he feels a calmness flow through him just by looking at the place, the neatness of the perfectly lined coffee tables making him feel at order with his thoughts.

"You daydreaming again, Novak?" a voice rings out from behind him.

Castiel turns and finds Jessica Moore smiling brightly, her teeth gleaming an iridescent white. For a split second his imagines an eight year old Jess standing there, all curls and freckles and limbs. But when he blinks again a clearly adult Jessica Moore is there, all smiles and blushes and curves.

"When am I not?" Castiel responds, brushing past her as he strips off his work apron and hangs it on one of the hooks.

"Good question. But I have a better one for you."

"Hm? And that is…?"

"…I need a favor."

The tiny break in her voice automatically sets Castiel's nerves on edge. He's known Jess his entire life and she doesn't use that tone unless she really wants something from him. Castiel has encountered this enough over the years to expect the worst.

"Jess, if you're going to ask me to drive you across the country to see some boy again I swear to God-"

"It's not a boy-well it is-but no continental travel is needed this time," Jess stammers over her words.

Castiel turns towards her and gets the biggest puppy eyes he's ever seen. Whatever she's getting at, she wants it bad.

"Okay, give it up. What do you want this time?' Castiel says with a bite in his voice, but it doesn't phase Jess at all. She leans against the counter and rests her head in one hand, batting her eyelashes up at him.

"I need you to talk to a guy…"

"Oh no, not again, Jessica Moore! Remember what happened last time you asked me to scout out a guy for you? He hit on me and tried to take me back to his apartment for 'a relaxing massage'."

"That's because you froze and asked him 'is that a flirtation?'" she mimicked in a raspy voice, trying to match Cas's lower register.

He blanched at her. "I…I don't sound like that!"

"You so do, but that's not the point. Are you going to do me a solid or not?"

Castiel shuffles his feet and leans back against the counter while Jess grabs her apron from the corner. She throws the garment around her head and squeaks when it gets caught on one of her earrings, making her curly blonde locks puff up around her head like a lion. The surprised look on her face throws Castiel over the edge; he's never been able to resist the charms of Jessica Moore.

"Okay, fine. I'll bite. Who is he?" His eyes scan the space but sees no one around besides the stocky book clerk in the store across the hall.

"Sam Winchester," she says with a dreamy smile on her face. "He works in the bookstore with his brother. Tall, dark, handsome, totally smart and has the most gorgeous hazel eyes ever," she swoons as she brews up a fresh pot of coffee, so distracted that she adds way too much water and it all overflows onto the ground. She curses under her breath as the liquid hits the linoleum and splashes on her shirt in the process.

Castiel grabs the rag from the sink and leans down to help her clean up the mess. "You've been working in coffee shops since high school and I've never seen you spill a drink. This guy must be something special?" he asks, even though it is clearly written across her face.

As if to prove the point her face blushes a bright red. "He really is. We have Economics 310 together and I can't get up the nerve to talk to him. He sits right in front of me and has the most profound answers in class, and I can't stop thinking about him! Please wingman for me this one time and I will never ask for this again! Please, Castiel James Novak?"

"Well…I can never resist a girl who uses my full name-"

"Ah Castiel, you're the best!" she squeals, pulling him into a rare, unexpected hug. "I will do anything you want in return!"

He can't suppress the grin that comes to his face. "Anything?" he responds with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Jess doesn't hesitate to slap him with the wet towel. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Novak," she chastises playfully. "Not anything anything. I was thinking among the lines of I'll buy you ice cream or get you a huge pizza or something."

"You know me well, Moore," he sighs heavily whist grabbing her hand to pull them both off the floor. "Now, where is this unlucky bastard I'm talking to?"

"You're so mean to me," Jess says with a slight pout to her lower lip, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's over at the bookstore right now. I saw him restocking some shelves a little while ago."
Castiel throws her one last look of disdain while he clocks out of his shift, then takes his leave from the shop. He can practically hear Jess's airy sighs of contentment as he walks across the hall and into the silent bookstore, his eyes scanning the space for anyone who matches her description.

He's actually never stepped foot in this bookstore before, despite working across the hall from it for the past four years of his life. It always seemed so dull to him, the white walls dingy with age and the carpet stained with who knows what. And if that isn't enough the stingy store owner is no belle of the ball either. He is a stout and slightly pudgy British man who refuses to leave a customer alone without making a sale. The whole ordeal is something Castiel has been trying to avoid. The things I do for you, Moore. Castiel thinks bitterly.

When he doesn't find anyone at first glance Castiel starts gleaning through the stacks of books, eyes scanning over the titles as he passes by. He even lifts his hands and lets his fingers trail over the spines, feeling the grooves and indentations of the titles slide under his touch.

"They're real beauties, aren't they?" a gruff voice sounds out behind him.

Castiel turns around and automatically stumbles back, completely overtaken by the man in front of him. Tall, dark, and handsome, he fits Jess's description perfectly besides the eyes. Instead of being a hazel color like she said they are the most striking green Castiel has ever seen, like the color of freshly grown grass. He can't help but blanch at the man; he's the most gorgeous creature Castiel has ever laid his eyes on. If this is the kind of guy Jess is going after, he doesn't blame her for getting all flustered.

"Are…are you Sam Winchester? he asks quickly, cringing when his voice breaks.

The man laughs heartily and leans back against the stack of books, popping a piece of gum in his mouth. "No that's my brother, but why look for him when you have me? I'm much more interesting." The wink he throws Castiel is enough for him to lose his train of thought.

Don't say 'is that a flirtation,' Castiel. Do not say 'is that a flirtation…'

"Is that…a flirtation?"

DAMMIT.

"Huh, you're not the king of social normality are you?" The man sticks out his hand and throws a lazy smile in his direction. "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

Castiel manages to get his jaw off the floor long enough to grip Dean's hand and shake it. "I'm Castiel Novak," he says gruffly, trying not to blush at Dean's raking gaze.

"Castiel? Is that even a real name?" Dean laughs, dropping his hand in the process. "Sounds like something that came out of a fake name generator or a really bad alias."

"It's biblical," Castiel mutters embarrassingly. "All of the Novaks are named after angels. Balthazar, Gabriel, Lucifer-"

"Oh please," Dean interrupts with a harsh laugh. "There is someone in your family named after the devil?"

"He was an beautiful angel before he fell, you know," Castiel says defensively, but he knows it's a lost cause. Once he tells someone that his father is named after the infamous fallen angel there is no going back. Dean is clearly no exception.

"O-kay," Dean emphasizes with a grin, "what does he do for a living? Is he a priest of just a devil in disguise? Is he a dance teacher? Do his students dance with the devil?"

Castiel just sighs, used to the cheesy one liner jokes that always come with his father's name. He hoped Dean would be above it but clearly not. Why can the cute ones never have any intelligent thought? "Go on all you want, but I didn't come here to talk with you," he says with annoyance coloring his tone. "Can you please point me in the direction of your brother please? My friend Jess asked me to wingman for her and I've got class in fifteen minutes."

"Dammit Cas, am I really that boring? Or are you just really into moose sized humans with hero complexes?"

"Cas? Did you just call me Cas?"

"Yeah, it's a lot better than Castiel right? And you have to admit it's cute too," he says with that bright smile of his that lights up the room.

He honestly doesn't know what to say. Why is this Winchester taking the time to blatantly flirt with him? If he's being honest with himself, Castiel never thought himself worthy of pursuit. He's nothing more than a guy with cringeworthy social skills. He's only been in two relationships. One was a girl from high school named Meg and she only dated him because she had a quite disturbing crush on his father. Easy to say it didn't last more than a few weeks. The other was one he couldn't even think about, wouldn't allow himself to remember because of the horrid memory of it all. Nobody has never been interested in Castiel. Why now?

"So…," Castiel whistles uneasily, "I've got class so I'm going to go. Nice to meet you, Dean."

"Now hold up, Cas. You're not going to give me your number? A Twitter username? Anything to contact you with?" Dean asks. He grabs a random book off the shelf and unceremoniously rips out the first page. "Don't leave me hanging, man."

Castiel just blanches, those rich emerald eyes capturing his with a playful look. The stare lasts ridiculously long, almost to the point where he doesn't know how much time has passed. Well Castiel, say something! What are you waiting for? "…I'm pretty sure you're going to have to pay for that book." Goodness Novak, you're worthless.

Dean laughs heartily as he pulls out a pen from his back pocket, shoving the vandalized book and the pen in his direction. "What Crowley doesn't know won't hurt him, and if he finds out I'll blame it on you."

"Geez, thanks for that. I feel so special now," Castiel deadpans while taking the objects from Dean's hands, scribbling down his phone number in his messy handwriting. He's very aware the whole time that Dean's gaze is still fixated on him. It's like he can feel that stare burning through his skin to reach into the depths of his soul.

With one last flourish of the pen Castiel writes down the rest of his contact information and shoves the items back into Dean's awaiting palms, purposely avoiding those eyes. It's like he instinctively knows that if he gazes back into those depths he will never want to leave. "I really have to go now, but I left my number and email there in case…y'know…need to get a hold of me or whatever."

"Wow Cas, I'm not a college recruiter or somethin'. I just wanna hang out a bit, get to know you a bit better."

Castiel lets out an insincere laugh. "Really? And why would you want to do that?"

Dean leans back on his heels and throws Castiel the saddest look he's ever received. The Novak breaks his promise to himself and looks back into those depths, finding a thousand years of sadness hidden in that gaze.

"Is it really that shocking that someone would be interested in you?"

"Someone, no. You, yes," Castiel replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

He expects a witty response from Dean but only gets silence. He looks over and finds the Winchester looking at him with a warm gleam in his eye, a tiny smile spread across his face.

Castiel tilts his head and throws him a confused look back. "What's wrong, Dean?"

"Nothing, Cas, it's just that…why is it so shocking that I'm into you? Is it because I'm a guy because if that's a problem for you, or if I read you wrong then-"

"-Dean," Castiel interrupts with a shake of his head. "It's not because you're a man. I just can't figure out how a guy like you, someone who is suave and funny and kind would look two seconds at an awkward guy like me, that's all."

Dean lets out a heavy sigh. "You really don't see how adorable you are? Okay, here's what we're going to do. You're going to come back here in an hour when I'm on my lunch break and I'm going to list out all of the great things about you while we sit out back and get high off each other's company, you understand?"

No, Castiel doesn't really understand but he nods his head in agreement anyway, trying to hide the nerves brewing inside. Lunch. With Dean Winchester. A guy he only met a few minutes ago. Talking about whatever comes up between them. It's not something Castiel would usually do, meeting up with a random stranger to talk about life, but for some reason he can't resist this man's charisma.

"Um…sure?" Castiel reluctantly agrees.

The Winchester smiles back brightly and slaps Castiel on the shoulder. "It's a date then and yes, Cas, that was a flirtation."
The Novak doesn't get to say anything before Dean turns and walks away whistling, leaving him behind with an angry red blush coloring his cheeks.

Castiel really tries to concentrate in his Advanced Business Ethics class, he really does, but his professor is droning on about work conduct and he's got better things to occupy himself with.

Every two seconds the Novak finds his gaze drifting from the the erratic hand gestures of his professor to the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes in his head until he sees Dean again. Castiel can still feel his gaze on his face like a bad burn, can still visualize those emerald eyes searing into his memory against his will. The Winchester had stolen his attention more than he would like to admit or could afford; he was in his senior year and everything had to be perfect. He didn't have time for romance with pretty bookstore workers or any outside distraction. It was then that he decided he would allow himself one lunch with the Winchester. Only one lunch and then he would leave Dean alone for good, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

His resolve seems firm in his mind through the class period, even holding out while he runs across campus, but it all falls apart when he finds Dean lounging on the concrete steps behind the building reading Cat's Cradle, Castiel's favorite novel. Damn that boy for having impeccable taste in literature. And if that isn't enough, Dean looks up and throws that searing gaze once again in Castiel's direction combined with a little smirk on his lips.

"I'm so screwed," Cas whispers to himself.

"Well, look who it is!" Dean says loudly. "Angel boy has returned once again. Couldn't resist me, huh?"

"No, I couldn't." Castiel replies quickly as he takes a seat next to Dean on the cool concrete, averting his eyes to the ground. "I tried though, don't get me wrong."

"Ah…well…uh…"

Castiel looks down at Dean and smiles. "Have I rendered the great Dean Winchester speechless?"

Dean throws him a slightly annoyed glare.

The Novak laughs. "Oh don't get petty on me. The only reason I tried to get rid of you is because I can't afford distractions and you are already interfering with my work ethic."

The Winchester throws him a confused glance before scooting into Castiel's space. "We only met today! If I've corrupted your life already then that's a new record."

"Yeah, well then I guess I'm easily corrupted. But the point still stands that I've got a degree to finish and I can already tell that you, me, whatever this is between us will be counterproductive to my studies. Therefore I will allow myself one lunch with you but that's it; no more. If I mess my senior year up my father will never forgive me and all my work will be for naught."
He expects his little speech to get through to Dean in some way. He thinks Dean is going to nod and accept his terms, but Castiel should already know better than to expect anything from the Winchester.

Dean smiles hugely and says "You're a pre-law major, aren't ya?"

Castiel leans back on his heels and eyes Dean suspiciously. "How did you know that?"

"Because you're talkin' like you're reading legal advice out of a textbook instead of speaking like a normal person. C'mon, Cas, talk to me like I'm a friend and not a business contract you've got to sign."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes quickly. "Can I be completely honest with you?"

Dean nudges Castiel's shoulder with his own. "That's the first step to a successful friendship I've heard."

"Well then to be completely honest with you, Dean…you're sort of terrifying."

The Winchester looks at Castiel with sadness and amusement coloring his gaze, something Castiel never knew could exist in the same look before.

"I'm terrifying? Me? Terrifying? I work in a bookshop with my brother and a stuffy Brit. My biggest crime is the amount of speeding tickets I have on my record, and I'm a high school dropout with six bucks to my name. If you're scared of me then I really don't want to know what else you're afraid of."

Castiel doesn't know how to respond. Yes, Dean does terrify him because he's new and mysterious. He's terrifying because he's the first person Castiel has honestly been interested in. It is freaking Castiel out to the core because he's known the guy for less than two hours and he already has feelings that he simply can't define, feelings that say Dean is someone special whom Castiel shouldn't let go.

But of course he says none of this, opting for the cop out of Dean's little speech instead. "High school drop out?" Castiel asks dumbly, as if Dean didn't explicitly say that already.

The Winchester sighs and leans back against the pavement, his hands brushing Castiel's accidentally. Castiel moves it away quickly when he feels the contact and he swears he sees Dean smile a bit.

"Yeah, high school wasn't for me," Dean replies with a little bite in his voice. "Got through the first three years but after that my desire to go really went downhill, so one day I just looked my uncle in the eye and said 'I'm not going back' and he said 'Okay son, it's your choice' and that was the end of it. No questions asked. Of course it caused a heyday with Sammy of all people, but he was just a kid and I wasn't in the mood to be convinced."

"But if you're a high school dropout, how are you here?" Castiel asks bluntly. "Why come to college if you couldn't even handle high school?"

"Hey, now don't go assuming things you know nothing about, Novak," Dean replies with a glare, his face tightening like he's in pain. "I chose to leave for personal reasons, not because I wasn't smart enough or somethin' like that. I could handle it just fine."

"You still didn't answer my question," Castiel grumbles.

"Damn man, you're stressin' me out with all this twenty questions crap. I've gotta take a hit."

Castiel thinks it is just an expression, a play on words. The last thing he expects is for Dean to reach into his coat and pull out a small bag of joints and start smoking, the smell of pot hitting his nose fast and hard.

"Wha…Dean! What the hell is that?"

Dean looks over at him with alarm in his eyes. "Wait, Cas-"

"You're going to do illegal drugs on the job? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Cas, you don't understand at all! It's-"

"Is this why you dropped out of high school? To get high all the time?"

"IT'S MEDICINAL, OKAY? I'VE GOT FREAKING CANCER SO I DON'T NEED YOU YELLING AT ME. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"

The silence that rings through Castiel's ears is deafening. No, Dean doesn't have cancer. He's seen people with cancer and they don't look like Dean. People with disease coloring their veins have hooded eyes and thin skin and death on their breath, and Dean has none of those things. He thinks it is all a cruel joke until he looks over at his tight set lips and angry glare.

"Oh wow…Dean…"

"Save it. This is why I don't tell people. I can already see the pity rising in your eyes. Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need your sympathy." Dean breathes in the smoke and lets his eyes flutter shut, leaning back against the brick wall behind him. When he props one leg up on the stoop Castiel can't stop and stare because he looks like some sort of model.

"I'm not dying, you know. At least not yet," Dean mutters through the veil of drugs, his body slumping with the stimulation running through his system. "I've been in and out of remission my entire life so this is nothing new. Chances are I'll pull through like always, so if you're thinking about starting some campaign on my behalf, please don't. You would be the kind of person to do that, set up a fund for a guy you met fifteen seconds ago."

Castiel doesn't know what to say; he's never known anyone with cancer before. How do you even try to comprehend the pain they are feeling, the emotions that must be like pins and needles in their psyche? But of course in his typical Castiel fashion he says none of this, opting for probably the worst thing he could possibly say in that moment instead.

"Do you have your medicinal marijuana card on your person?" Real smooth, Castiel. Way to go.
Dean stops mid inhale to throw a smiting glance over at Castiel. "Are you for real right now? I tell you I have freaking cancer, something I never tell anyone, and you're asking me if I've got my legal card on me from the great state of California? Seriously dude, were you born without basic social skills?"

"I-I'm sorry. This is just all very new for me and today has been weird enough and-oh crap I didn't mean that your cancer is weird or anything-"

"Whoa Cas, buddy, chill. I'm not mad at you or anything; people act weird around me all the time, but you don't gotta treat me any differently than a normal person. Just because I've got a disease doesn't mean I'm a breakable snowflake that will melt under your touch."

Castiel sighs heavily and looks long and hard at the Winchester. He's right and Castiel knows it. Dean looks strong sitting there with that joint in his mouth, still breathing in the smoke like he's in his own personal Nirvana. He doesn't need Castiel to come in and throw a pity party, especially when the only thing Cas knows about cancer comes from a fictional work named The Fault in Our Stars.

"Okay, I get it. You don't need a kid like me who is clueless about your disease to come into your life and act like I'm your personal savior. I get it, I really do. But if you're looking for a friend right now, or just someone to be there for support, then I'll be around, Dean."

Dean sighs heavily and gets up from the ground with a wince in his face, taking the joint between his fingers. "Listen Cas, I've got to get back to work. I think you're a great guy but I've only known you for a few hours now. Granted, they have been some of the weirdest hours of my life and I've got freaking cancer, but let's hold off on the kumbaya and friendship bracelets until we know each other a little better okay?"

Castiel smiles. "Is that an invitation to hang out again? Maybe start over from this whole mess of an experience?"

The Winchester grins back. "Yeah, I guess it is. Tell you what, Cas, I'll stop by that coffee shop of yours sometime and grab something to drink. Then we'll talk about everything and I'll even let you feel bad for me and everything."

The Novak shrugs. "And when will that be exactly?"

Dean laughs lightly and throws the most promiscuous wink Castiel has ever seen. "Eh, I'm one for spontaneity. Just…look out for me okay?"

Castiel nods his head. "Okay, sure. That's good."

"Good. Well then, I'll see you around.," Dean says.

"Yes, I will see you around," Castiel replies quickly, turning to walk away. He doesn't get far though before that gruff voice calls out from behind him.

"Hey! Cas!"

The Novak spins around to see Dean throwing the used joint over his shoulder, sliding him one last little grin.

"I said the pot was medicinal; I never said it was legal."