Thanks for follows / favourites! I'm glad you're giving this story a try x3 Please review though; I need some thoughts on this at the moment…! A million thanks again to Angelphoenixwings14 for beta-reading this chapter as well! I bet I gave her a hard time with some clumsy sentences and comma faults –laughs embarrassed- she did a great job again and helped me improving some lines x) Again, if you find further mistakes, please let me know.
Now, debut entrance – Castiel!
Chapter 2
The transfer to the rehab clinic didn't take long, but Dean was already unnerved, especially by the jumpy driving style of the PTA. This morning had been horrible so far – first of all, it had been quite impossible to shower decently. A nurse had wrapped his plaster cast in some plastic bag, so that it wouldn't get wet, and he had declined her offer to help him shower (lecherous woman, he thought grimly). Secondly, all he had received for breakfast was a lousy, floury apple and a glass of milk, and he feared he was already so enriched with vitamins, his body would mutate. Sam followed with the Impala, and Dean could see his smirk in the driving mirror. It didn't exactly lift his spirits.
Once they stopped and got outside, Dean was highly embarrassed because they made him sit down in a wheelchair, and rolled him towards the entrance. The place looked actually rather charming – there were trimmed green areas, flowerbeds, and trees all around the building. The clinic in itself looked welcoming and neat, with its white walls, blue window frames and wooden shutters (more like a huge country home with two stories). The driver of the PTA checked Dean in, he and Sam watched how he handed the receptionist some documents. When he was gone, she smiled at Dean and walked toward them. She shook both their hands with a firm squeeze and introduced herself as Karen. She had a curly redhead and bright blue eyes, and her toothy smile was contagious. Dean grinned inwardly when he saw how Sam eyed her attentively.
She led them to Dean's room,thankfully another single bedroom, though laughably tiny), and Sam rolled Dean's wheelchair in. He helped Dean out of the wheelchair and made him sit down on the bed (comfortable, Dean's brain registered, quite surprised), asshe rambled on. It seemed, she was talking more to Sam than to Dean, but he didn't mind. From what he overheard, he understood the next few weeks would become strenuous and disgustingly healthy. The meal times were revoltingly early – breakfast at seven, lunch at one, dinner at six, and he scoffed when he heard her say that.
"What, and bedtime is at eleven?", he joked, and she smiled calmly at him.
"Ten, actually. No lights or electronics after that. Believe me, the daily routine is physically demanding, most likely you fall asleep long before ten."
Dean grumbled and ignored Sam's mischievous smile.
"The common room is two corridors away from here. You'll have to go to the canteen for the meal times. Oh, and before I forget it", she turned around and seized something, and Dean's face fell when she gave him the items.
"No wheelchairs for you, Mister Winchester. You will use these crutches instead;it's better for your muscle tissue. You'll have physiotherapy twice a day, before noon and in the late afternoon. Your therapist will come around as soon as he can. If you need anything, there's a red button next to your bed, and you can push it and someone will drop in. You can also call me, my phone extension is 001. For a call outside you have to dial a zero at first. And that's all, if you don't have further questions", she smiled sweetly, turning towards Sam.
After a few lengthy moments of awkward silence, Sam seemed to awaken out of his daydream, and Dean answered that he had no more questions. Karen left (of course with a wink at Sam). He disregarded Dean's knowing look and rubbed his neck shyly.
"I'll get your stuff and prepare the clinic with the symbols. I guess it's best to climb on the roof", Sam mumbled and Dean dismissed him with an approving nod. He laid down for a while, and tried to get used to the bed and the room he would mostly be in for the upcoming weeks. Not even five minutes had passed when someone knocked on his opened door. He looked up, one hand underneath his head, to see a man about his age standing in the door. He wore a light blue uniform, which underlined the deep blue colour of his eyes and flattered his slightly tanned, rosy skin. He had dark hair, a slim figure, and the most tantalizing smile Dean had seen in a long while.
"Dean Winchester?", he asked as he approached Dean slowly, and Dean's jaw dropped slightly once he heard that dark voice. The sound of the stranger's voice caused a turbulent surge of heat inside his stomach and made him all tingly. He nodded, and the man reached out his hand, and Dean shook it, responding to the firm grip equally.
"I'm Castiel Novak, your physiotherapist." There was something about the way those plump pink lips moved that fascinated Dean, and made it hard to concentrate on the man's words. The light stubble on his jaw and cheeks, or his prominent cheekbones weren't helping either. Castiel... what a weird name, Dean thought, as he observed the depth of this wonderful blue in his therapist's eyes. Obviously, he'd been staring too long, because Castiel harrumphed and averted his eyes, looking at Dean's patient record suddenly highly focused.
"Have you had breakfast?", he asked Dean, still not meeting his eyes.
"Yeah, if you want to label it as that. I wouldn't call an apple a breakfast. I'd rather have scrambled eggs with bacon", Dean admitted with a shrug and a cheeky smile. His smile died quickly on his lips, when Castiel finally looked up and regarded him with a mellow, yet somewhat stern expression in his eyes.
"Sorry, there won't be a lot of carbs or cholesterol for you within these walls. The clinic has a specially developed nutrition program, implying lots of vegetables and fruits", Castiel explained, and he laughed softly when Dean acted as if he had to puke and rolled his eyes.
"I know", he soothed. "But you have to heal and fattening food won't help your leg. Let me have a look...", Castiel mumbled and pushed Dean's pants leg gently up, so that he could see the flesh above the cast.
"How about you buy me a drink first?", Dean joked under his breath, trying to pay no heed to those slender fingers touching him, but Castiel had heard him and met his eyes with a kind smile.
"I never needed that to get into someone's pants", he retorted dryly, making Dean dumbstruck in doing so. Castiel bent his head again, and Dean mused how soft those dark strands of hair would feel underneath his fingertips. He could inhale the soapy, fresh smell coming from Castiel's body, and it stirred something twitching inside his guts. It was weird, that Castiel was so near; usually, Dean didn't let strangers that close (except for one night stands, of course). He was painfully aware of the thinness of his clothes, and how he could feel both their body heats collide. The therapist touched his flesh above the plaster cast carefully. He gave the muscles and the skin light squeezes, just underneath Dean's knee, and Dean winced and laughed in embarrassment.
"Hey, I'm ticklish", he growled, hearing Castiel smile and exhale a breathy laugh.
"I'm sorry", he said quietly, before he continued palpating Dean's calf and upper leg. When he was done, he pulled Dean's pants leg down cautiously, and with so much gentleness that Dean felt his heart melt warmly. Castiel met his eyes again, wearing a frown.
"The inflammation is on the decline, which is good, but I think we'll have to administer you some injections to support your system. If I'm right, we'll be able to start working on your calf tomorrow. Until then, I suggest we start with the rest of the whole-body training."
Dean sat up, about to protest loudly.
"Wait a second, what whole-body training? My calf is injured, the rest of my body is just fine", he complained, making Castiel smile again. He was getting used to the sight, and he thought he looked rather lovely when he smiled.
"Dean, you'll be in this clinic for six weeks. Do you really think we'll let you lie in bed the whole time? You'll suffer muscle loss within the next few days because you'll be mostly laid up, and we will try to stop that with some stamina training and toning exercises. Also, it will help your calf if the rest of your body is in a good state. There will be some exercises, which will demand the muscles of your stomach, back, butt, hell, even your shoulders and arms. So it will be easier for you if we train your whole body", Castiel explained calmly, still wearing the hunch of a smile on his soft, pink mouth.
Though Castiel seemed like an affable person, Dean was on the edge of telling him to go fuck himself, because there was no way that Dean Winchester would eat healthy 24/7 and act like an exercise-addict at the same time. Luckily, Sam entered the room in this moment, saving Dean from losing his dignity. Castiel turned halfway around and smiled at Sam.
"This is my brother Sam. Sam, this is Castiel, my physiotherapist", Dean disclosed and watched how the two shook hands. Sam placed two heavy travelling bags on the ground, huffing and puffing slightly due to their weight – they included all of Dean's scarce belongings, mostly his clothes, some tattered books he loved, an mp3-player and some of his weapons. Little did Dean know that Sam had brought his favourite weapons too, but Sam was certain Dean didn't and couldn't even sleep without a knife or a gun at hand.
"Uhm, we were just about to start the daily workout", Castiel said, exchanging looks with Sam and Dean.
"Is now a bad time? We could postpone this, if you need some time", he suggested, and Dean had to smile when he heard Castiel's kind proposal. He wasn't going to be a difficult drama queen from his first day on, so he stopped his therapist with a wave of his hand.
"Nah, Sam wanted to go out into the big, wide world anyhow, didn't you?", he smirked.
"Yeah, true. I'll store your clothes away and then I'll be on my way."
"I don't want to disturb you; I'll have to get those syringes I talked about anyway. I'll be back in a minute. It was nice to meet you, Sam", Castiel said politely and shook Sam's gigantic hand once more, then he was gone. Dean tried to not gaze after those firm legs and the cute, round butt, but Sam had caught his stare and grinned amusedly at him, particularly as Dean felt his cheeks blush.
"So, your therapist, huh?", Sam asked slyly, starting to unpack Dean's bags and shoving his clothes into the head-high closet behind the door.
"You shut your cakehole", Dean replied with a grin he couldn't suppress, fighting against another surge of blood rushing through his cheeks. Alright, he had to agree that this Castiel guy was really handsome, and the mere thought of spending the next few weeks in his nearness turned Dean's whole body into jelly and warmed him thoroughly – but that didn't imply he had to talk with Sam about it. Sam continued working in silence, and once the bags were almost empty, he placed them underneath Dean's bed.
"I brought you your favourite guns and knives. There's some holy water in there, some salt, a spray can, and silver bullets. Hope that's sufficient", Sam said quietly, as he leant down to Dean. Dean patted his shoulder and thanked him.
"You call every night, alright?", Dean questioned, staring unyieldingly into his brother's eyes – it was difficult for him to let him go, all on his own. He knew worry would haunt him every day, but he had to act like an adult and accept Sam as an adult too at some point. Sam smiled gently at him, confirming Dean's demand with a choked "Of course, you jerk." They weren't going to see each other for quite a while, so they hugged fiercely, holding on to one another for a moment. After John had died, they had understood how easily they could be next, so they made more of an effort to show the other how appreciated he was. Once they were killed it would be too late for such confessions, suppressed because of their shyness and aversion to honesty about their feelings.
"You look out for yourself, you hear me?", Dean mumbled and squeezed his younger brother once more. Sam finally let go of him and ruffled Dean's hair, making him grumble and narrow his eyes dangerously.
"Yeah, you too. See you, Dean...", Sam said softly, and with a last smile, he turned around and walked past Castiel, who stood there, leaning against the doorframe with a pensive look on his face. He approached Dean silently, the syringes in his hand, and he sat down beside Dean on his bed. Dean let him take his forearm; Castiel placed it on his lap and extended it. He shook his head in disbelief when he saw the black and blue mark on Dean's crook of the arm, the remnant of his last injections.
"Well, that nurse was brutal, am I right?", he said with a smile and looked up into Dean's eyes. Dean smiled too and observed how Castiel opened the caps of the syringes.
"You have no idea", he joked. Mesmerized Dean saw how Castiel held his arm still with one hand, and how he gave him the injection skillfully so it hurt only slightly. His grip was firm but tender at the same time, and it made Dean all giddy inside. He felt light-headed, as if time was standing still. Somehow, he was calm and pleasantly excited in Castiel's nearness, for he emanated a splendid vibe. Castiel placed the first syringe away and took the second, repeating the process with the same calmness and certainty.
"You're brother's leaving for a longer period?", he asked friendly, obviously having seen their embrace. Dean felt a little awkward about the question, but he found he couldn't really resist talking to Castiel. He already loved the sound of his voice; it was addictive.
"Yeah, I don't think he'll be around while I'm here. He still has to take care of our business", he replied.
"The patient record said you're loggers?", Castiel asked and uplifted his head to smirk at Dean. Dean returned the smirk mischievously and rubbed his neck with the hand that wasn't demanded.
"Or something like that... or not. Better not talk about it, or I might have to kill you", Dean grinned feisty.
Castiel chuckled and got up, letting go of Dean's arm in the process. He grabbed the crutches and held them out for Dean, moving his head with an implication for him to get up. Dean groaned and sat up clumsily and accepted the crutches. He was glad Castiel didn't ask further questions about his profession, but somehow he would have rather kept talking with him about this and that than starting the dreaded workout.
"Alright, we'll start with the crutches. You'll have to get used to walking with them. I assume your arms and shoulders will be sore within the next days, because the movement will be new to your body. Can you get up on your own?"
Dean didn't feel comfortable with this at all, and he hated to make a fool out of himself, but he tried to put some weight on the crutches nonetheless, while he struggled to get up safely too. He sighed exasperated, and gave it another attempt. It didn't work again, and he stopped, shaking his head disappointedly. Great, now he couldn't even stand up without help.
"Don't worry, we'll work on that", Castiel assured him. Gently he took the crutches out of Dean's hand and placed them aside, and as his fingers brushed against Dean's, it caused an electric feeling bouncing through Dean. Their eyes met when Castiel seized Dean's left hand with his left one, their fingers intertwined. It felt far too intimate for a simple touch, and Dean couldn't help but blush again.
"Place your healthy foot on the ground. I'll pull you up", Castiel instructed, and Dean nodded. Within a second, he perceived the strong pull of Castiel's arm, far stronger than he would have thought, and he stood on one wobbly leg, his other one useless. Castiel gave him the crutches back and together they adjusted their height to Dean's body. Dean was a little bit confused, when Castiel placed his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed him down on the bed again.
"Now, we'll try this again. You'll be grateful not to have to make a call every time you need to use the bathroom, and our staff will stone me and accuse me I didn't teach you anything whenever they have to come and help you get up. Once more, place your healthy leg on the ground, then use the left crutch and put as much pressure on it as you can. Don't worry, the crutch will survive this. Make sure it won't slip away, then you pull yourself up with your left side."
It was easier said than done, and Dean's upper arm was trembling with exhaustion – he managed to stand up somewhat shakily, and Castiel had to hold his right arm firmly to give him support. His fingers dug into Dean's biceps tightly, and it made Dean's mouth dry. The way he gripped him, so blatantly and resolutely... They practiced the same exercise over and over again, until Dean was able to get up on his own, and they both smiled genuinely at each other when they realized they had accomplished the first goal. The happy glint in Castiel's deep blue eyes set something alight in Dean's heart, and he felt his inhibitions shrink easily the longer he was around the therapist. Castiel made him walk towards the staircase outside Dean's room – he patiently walked next to him along the floor, keeping a close watch on his every tentative move with the crutches. Sometimes his hand fled to the small of Dean's back, supporting him wordlessly, and Dean appreciated the gesture.
When they entered the hallway, Dean's mood became gloomy as he regarded the stairs as if they were monsters, just waiting to rip him to shreds. He sighed tiredly. His limbs already ached thanks to the damn crutches, and now stairs?
"The principle is easy. Upstairs – first healthy leg, then crutches, then injured leg. Downstairs – crutches, healthy leg, injured leg. Got it? It will feel natural the longer you do it", Castiel fluted, patting Dean's shoulder encouragingly. Dean clenched his teeth and supported his weight on the crutches. He turned his head and gave Castiel a side-glance. There was a strange, emboldening shimmer in those deep, blue wells, which made Dean grim and eager. He knew it would be quite strenuous and exhausting, but he wanted to give it a try. The way Castiel looked at him made him want to achieve this, despite the struggle. So he followed Castiel's instruction and started climbing the first step carefully. Castiel wasn't touching him, but Dean could feel the heat of his palm close to his back, always there should he fall or stumble. It was quite reassuring, and soon Dean felt more relaxed.
They walked up and down the stairs countless times, always in the same, slow pace, and Dean was soaked through with perspiration when they stopped after eternities. His arms were trembling and aching, and he was breathing heavily – howsoever, he felt himself smiling brightly when he looked into Castiel's face and saw the proud smile on those lovely, pink lips. Castiel touched his shoulder and looked him deeply in the eyes, making Dean light-headed and absolutely flabbergasted.
"Well done. I think that's enough for the nonce. I'll accompany you to your room, then I'll have to look after my other patients. Post-lunch we'll proceed with the workout", Castiel said gently. Partly Dean was glad to hear Castiel's compliment – on the other hand, he was shattered to hear he wasn't done for the day yet. One thing was certain - he would have sore muscles for days.
TBC
Thoughts? Opinions? Let me know what you think! Oh, btw, I think I'll update once or twice a week…! As always, your feedback is appreciated x3
