Chapter 2/13
word count: 3,970
"Dude, I didn't know you were coming over," Ash said, dragging Dean in for a hug. Dean loved the guy, just not when he got all cuddly with him.
Dean pushed him away as soon as possible, nicely enough. "Heard you got it bad today, so I came to cheer you up."
Ash laughed wholeheartedly. "Man, I have this theory that if I sit quietly and sing the alphabet song over and over again in my mind while someone talks to me, I will just shut them out. And it worked. Crowley could have told me who my mother and grandmother were a thousand times, but all I kept hearing was 'now I know my a-b-c's, next time won't you sing with me?' and, dude, Crowley was spitting fireballs."
"Well done," Dean praised, feeling less sorry for his friend. A little cheering up would still come in handy. "Why don't we move the party to my place? I've got all the booze you can think of."
"Dude, my mom's home right now. She knows that every time I go with you, it's only to drink. I have to tell her I'm going somewhere else. Wait here, and don't let my sister see you."
Dean nodded like a bobble head to everything. He was used to Ash sneaking out from his overprotective mother, because apparently he was such a bad influence on the young ones. Ash's sister, Jo, had had a crush on him for some time, and though he never really considered taking a shot with her, momma Ellen would make sure that never crossed his mind. Jo and Dean still hung out from time to time, but they tried to keep their distance and flirting to a safe level.
Jo stepped outside of the house, arms folded in front of her, searching through the dark street. Dean was sitting inside his Impala, texting Sammy about bringing Ash over, in case he decided to get freaky with Ruby on their couch like he enjoyed doing.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Jo said, walking to Dean's window, setting her elbows down on the car.
Dean bopped her nose, which was his usual greeting to her. "Jo, Jo, Jo."
"Having fun intoxicating my little brother?"
He shrugged. "No more than usual."
Jo looked back at her house. "My mom won't find out if you promise me one thing."
Dean waited, sending her his seductive grin. He just couldn't help himself when he was around her. She was such a feisty, adorable thing.
"Keep him safe," she said, concern in her voice. "He may be eighteen, but he is still not an adult. He doesn't behave like one, anyway. I don't want him to choke on his puke at the middle of the night while you're snoring next to a whore you picked up."
Dean gasped, honestly offended. "What makes you think I have to pay to get laid? Not with this pretty face."
"Not the point, Dean," she grumbled.
Dean leaned closer to her, where he knew she would run her fingers through his hair in that perfect way. Dean hadn't met anyone who could offer him any genuine feeling besides Jo, so he kept asking for it. They didn't have to make out or have an official relationship, they just offered each other small intakes of affection, and that was enough for Dean. For now.
Ash walked out, frozen by the sight of his sister. "Crap."
Jo let go of Dean, moving toward her younger sibling, who was much taller than her. Jo understood what Dean felt every time he had to stand next to Sammy.
"Careful, you might get one of those beer bellies before you see it coming," she teased, going back inside the house.
Ash got in, pale as a ghost. He turned to Dean with a frightened expression. This was the correct reaction to coming out of Crowley's office (alive), but it was better late than never.
"Dude, I think she knows."
Dean snickered quietly. "No joke."
Dean, Sam and Ash were drunk as hell. So drunk that Dean could hardly recognize the worlds slipping out of his mouth. He could hear himself speaking, but he didn't have recollection of wanting to voice them out.
"Sammy, I love you. You're my brother and I love you," he mumbled. It was like all the alcohol combined was the recipe for a truth elixir. He knew he was drunk when he started listing all the people he loved. "Ash, I love you, man. I really love you."
Ash giggled almost incoherently.
Sammy tried to get up and get to the bathroom, but his legs gave out. Dean had never seen his brother so wasted before. He was even surprised he agreed to drink with them.
"I love Jo, too," Dean continued, more to himself. "And I love Chuck. Chuck is nice. I love Ellen. She hates me, but I love her. And I love…oh I love Dr. Sexy. I always say he's not sexy to me, but fuck, he is."
Ash giggled again. "Shut up."
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sammy reaching the bathroom door and opening it. He was glad his brother made it there in one piece.
"I want him. He's. I want him. All mine."
Ash had passed out before Dean could continue. He went silent, sinking down on the couch. He might have mumbled other nonsense, but he couldn't stop thinking of him. Of those deep blue eyes, and the body that held them. Cas. He might have said his name aloud a few times, but he couldn't possibly remember.
Dean experience one of the worst hung-overs of his lifetime the entire next day. It was all his fault for deciding to chug down an entire liquor store on a Thursday. Luckily, though, after today he had one day off. One day where he didn't have to get up to pretend he had a life. That thought got him through most of his day.
That was until his last round of the night was announced by Chuck. He wasn't surprised to have discovered Dean hadn't kept his word yet again. But it was Dean who they were talking about. Since when did people think he would be reliable?
"Five deliveries, Dean," Chuck said flatly.
Dean sighed. He hated Fridays at work. He hated having to work with an excruciating headache and nausea. He just hated this day. He packed away the pizzas, heading for the road once again.
His bad mood and slow driving had gotten him small tips, but he didn't have high expectations. All he wanted was to drink all the litters of water he could find in his fridge as soon as he got home. His throat was dry and raspy.
He left Cas' order for last, since he lived further away, but also because he hated this part of the evening. Any other day he could have dealt with this, but he knew by now how much the man took away from Dean, and he wasn't prepared to lose it anymore.
He ranged the doorbell, slouching unattractively. The smell of onions burned his nose and all he hoped for was not to puke all over Cas' front porch, or his pizza.
"Dean, I thought you'd gotten lost," Castiel said, handing Dean the bill, and taking the pizza in his hands.
Dean forced a smile, trying to keep his eyes open. "No, I just had a lot of orders. Friday, you know?"
Cas nodded understandingly, but he looked like he was studying Dean somehow. "You look horrible. Are you feeling ill?"
Dean shook his head stubbornly. "No, I'm just kind of dizzy."
Cas pressed his hand on Dean's forehead without previous permission. Dean was taken aback by the action, but he didn't protest. "My goodness, you're burning up. Come on in, I'll give you an ice pack and some fever relievers."
"Thanks, but─"
"No," Cas snapped. "I am a medical doctor. I know what I am doing. I will not let a sick person walk away from me without first making sure they are well enough to drive."
Dean hesitated by the door, but he still walked in behind Cas. The house was spacious, hollow, even. It wasn't as extravagant on the inside as Dean had imagined. It was simple. Cas didn't seem to buy unnecessary home décor to accessorize the place, he only had the basics. Dean wanted to compliment Cas on the nice house, but he felt that if he spoke one single word, his stomach would send him up all the unwanted poison he stuffed in it.
Cas led Dean to the kitchen, and offered him a seat in the dining room table. There were only two chairs there. One of them was filled with white coats and blue scrubs. He took the empty one, resting his head on his hands. Castiel pulled a small thermometer from a cupboard. "Open your mouth, Dean." Dean did, and Cas placed the digital thermometer there, waiting patiently for the results. "Ninety-nine degrees. Are you allergic to any medication?" He asked, in a tone Dean hadn't heard before. It must have been his doctor voice.
Dean pressed his eyes shut as the head pounding headache increased. "No, I don't think so."
"This shouldn't have a negative effect on you, either way," Cas informed him. "You're a big boy."
Even though Dean felt like shit, and he was losing clarity of the situation, he felt himself smirking at that comment. He wanted to lie down in his Impala until this went away, but at the same time, he didn't want to hurry up Cas to get him the pills so he could get well and leave. He could wait a few more seconds.
Castiel laid out the pills in one of those cups they give you at the hospital and a plastic cup of ice cold water, which Dean sucked dry in one intake.
"Thanks, Doc, I feel so much better."
"Nonsense. Take off your jacket, and lie down on my couch. I'll go get you a few wet cloths and the ice pack."
Dean felt weak and vulnerable and he was not prepared to feel this way in front of a mere stranger. But evidently he was at the hands of a professional doctor willing enough to treat an unexpected patient. Dean felt so much better, though, as soon as he was on his back on one very comfortable couch. He had his eyes shut, trying to compose himself before Cas returned.
"Why have you not taken off your jacket, Dean?" Cas said, exasperatedly.
Dean had honestly forgotten. It was not because he was ashamed about his not so muscular torso. Not at all. Cas sat him down on the couch and removed the jacket himself. Dean was surprised to see how bossy Doctor Cas could be. Once he was jacket-less, he was allowed to lie back down, and he felt the cool towels all over his body. One on his neck, arms, and even his legs after Cas rolled up his jeans. The ice pack on his head was his favorite.
"Feeling any better?" Cas wondered quietly.
Dean breathed, hardly feeling the headache anymore. Cas worked some kind of mojo on him, because he started feeling much better than usual. But only in health. Now that the throbbing pain wasn't in the way, he could worry about the embarrassment he should be feeling.
"Yeah, I feel so good I should really get going now." Dean pushed himself up from the couch unwillingly, only to have Cas shove him back down. "You can't keep me hostage here forever. My brother will find me."
Cas glared at Dean, seriously. "You haven't even rested for one minute and you already think you can fly an airplane? No, Dean. Besides, I must take your temperature once more. Wait fifteen minutes. I'll be in the kitchen eating my pizza."
Dean didn't know why, but he held onto Cas' arm before he could leave. Cas looked down at him, a soft look in his eyes he rarely received from strangers. He shifted the ice pack on his head to get a better look at him. "Thanks. Most people don't offer random acts of kindness like that."
The smile on Cas was unforgettable. It was the one Baby got out of him the day before. Now it was his. And why did Dean care so much about the smiles from this man? He definitely needed to get laid quickly. By a woman. A very feminine woman.
Dean rested his eyes for a couple minutes, or at least he thought so. When he opened them he found Cas in what must have been his hospital clothes, placing some things into his pockets.
"Dean, I didn't mean to wake you," Cas murmured, his voice was so soothing, Dean could have easily gone back to sleep right then and there. "I'm on call every day, and I must head to work now."
"What time is it?" Dean asked, rising stiffly from the couch, stretching his arms and cracking his neck.
"Do you do that often?" Cas said sadly. "It is a terrible habit."
"Yeah, well, I have a lot of those. Why not add another to the pile?"
Cas put on a tan overcoat, looking so tiny inside it. "You may want to measure your drinking from now on. If you wish, I could bring you a pamphlet on what excessive drinking will do to you. It is truly a silent drug."
Dean put on his shoes, not questioning how they came off in the first place. "How did you know my sickness was really a hangover?"
Castiel picked up his nametag. "Doctor."
"Right," Dean said, steadying himself from the couch, heading to the door and Castiel. "Well, Doc, it was very nice of you to take me in during my time of need. But we all know nothing in life is free. How much do I owe you?"
It was a strange little thing whenever Cas laughed, and Dean liked it. He just didn't know exactly why. Cas placed a hand firmly on his right shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Keep bringing me my pizzas in less than thirty minutes, and our debt is settled. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Cas walked out the house, Dean stood there motionless.
"I am certainly not kicking you out, Dean, but you must decide whether you want to stay inside or out, because I have to lock my door."
Dean hurried to the front porch, relaxing until his eyes found his car in perfect condition. He turned back to Cas, watching him with gratitude and all sorts of repentance. Cas watched him back, and though the exchange of glances was intense, neither of them seemed to feel uncomfortable by it. It felt sort of natural.
"I don't know how else to thank you," Dean hurried, walking next to a smiling Castiel. Before he stepped into his Hummer, he gave Dean a wave, mouthing pizza, and drove away with an overly loud laughter. It just didn't quite go with the time of the night, or rather morning, his watch stated.
The smell of bacon woke Dean up from his long, dreamless sleep. He felt well for the first time. It was caused by so many little things. His headache was gone, which was extremely important. It was his day off from work, which meant no deliveries, no Crowley, no nothing. He had the entire day to himself, and he was about to waste it on watching mindless television. And lastly, and still feeling surreal, he had been pampered like a child by a man who could have easily inspired his favorite fictional character, Dr. Sexy.
Suddenly, it all hit him. It hit him so hard, almost knocked him back to sleep. He didn't have a crush on a man, a real man. He had a crush on someone who represented one of his guilty pleasures. Cas had that scruffy look like Dr. Sexy, he was rugged, but neat in his own way. Hell, he was even a doctor. Castiel was Dean's fantasy guy. In a totally heterosexual way.
He had absolutely nothing to worry about. He wouldn't freak out about this any longer. All he had to do was get laid soon enough because his dick was becoming confused as to what it wanted. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and all he needed was attention. He'd been neglecting his carnal needs due to exhaustion from work, and though knowing sex was his favorite stress reliever, he just hadn't put the effort into getting some. This was the call from the wild, informing him he had needs to tend to.
It looked like, after all, he was not staying home all day.
Sammy was cooking breakfast, which he only ever did on Saturdays when Dean wasn't as grumpy. He served their plates, pouring freshly squeezed orange juice for both of them.
Dean rubbed his hands together, savoring his meal. Dean really loved his little brother.
"I guess this one must be special," Sam said, sitting down and digging into his scrambled eggs.
Dean licked his lips, confused by what his brother meant by that. He began eating his food, letting the comment slide.
"Really, Dean?" Sammy asked, bitterly. "Not going to share anymore?"
Damn, all Dean could think of was saving some of Sammy's bacon for some cheeseburgers later that day. He tried to keep up with his brother, but how was anything expected from him once food was in his mouth?
"Share what?" He said, in between his chewing.
Sam focused his eyes on Dean, warily. "It's not Jo, is it?"
"What are you talking about, bitch?"
"Jerk," Sammy muttered, gulping down his juice. "I mean, who are you seeing now? You can't keep things from me, Dean. You came home so late last night, and today you wake up all happy. There must be someone."
Dean drank some of his juice, too, hoping to move the topic into another direction. Sammy wouldn't understand his newly acquired theory about his fantasy and the solution to his confusion. "I love Jo, but you know that's not something we're willing to explore. Hey, you know what? Chuck has never met Jo, has he? Which reminds me, you owe him a setup with one of your lady friends, and I have a feeling Jo is the right type of friend."
Sam let his jaw drop. "You are handing away your only good woman to Chuck? Every time I tried to introduce her to one of my friends you told me to fuck off and stopped talking to me for days. You see her as yours, and I've told you it's not right because she obviously isn't, but I don't get it. What made you change your mind?"
Dean was shocked with himself, also. He always feared he'd lose his friend. But he realized it wasn't fair to use her as a safety cushion to fall back on when he couldn't keep standing. She needed to have her own life, to love someone she could actually have a future with. Dean couldn't and wouldn't give her that. And wanting to feel her close and just for him wasn't alright anymore.
"I want her to be happy," Dean explained in simpler terms. "She's…she deserves that and so much more. Chuck is a decent fellow."
Sam stared at Dean, half convinced. "I am more than okay with that match-making, but if I make this happen, and they actually click and get things going, I will expect you not to interfere."
Dean sighed, losing his appetite. "I won't, Sammy, okay? I won't get in the way."
His brother grimaced, but he didn't make any other comment on Dean's reaction. They both grew up with Jo and Ash. Dean even got Ash the job at the pizzeria. But Jo was something precious to Dean. More than a friend most of the time. He never labeled their relationship. And it felt almost wrong setting her up with anyone, even Chuck, who most likely had a clean slate, and would grow up to be someone important in life.
Cas could stuff his healthy tips right up his asshole. Dean was a big boy, after all, and if he wanted to drink until he wasted his body away, then he would. And no one could stop him.
He waited on his next round of purple nurples, singing along to the only Bon Jovi song he actually liked, because he wouldn't officially join the fan club.
"I'm a cowboy," he shouted, taking the first shot in without a second thought. "I'm wanted," he yelled again, going for the second. "Dead or alive," he said finally, rattling his head after his last shot of the purple drink. He hadn't noticed he had sort of an audience watching him with admiration. He dismissed them all with their clapping, trying to get a hold of the bartender to order even more.
"My, does he know how to drink," someone said, getting into Dean's personal space. He was very serious when it came to keeping that space unoccupied.
"Bartender," Dean mumbled, sloppily. "Three more."
The person next to him was a woman, Dean noticed as his head fell against her chest. He looked up at the face that held the bosoms, trying to wink, but blinking with both eyes instead. The woman had black, curly hair, full cheeks, luscious red lips, and a confident attitude that made her even more attractive.
"Who might you be, sweetheart?"
"Meg," she said, leaning in closer to Dean, lips so close to his that it was tortuous not being able to try her out. "Are you really a cowboy?"
Dean licked his lips, ready to take her in his arms and show her how manly he really was. "I can be anything you want me to be, baby."
Meg let out a soft moan from the back of her throat, locking their lips together long enough to leave them both breathless. Once they broke apart, Dean looked down at his crotch, wondering why the hell his dick was not at all excited by this. He figured he was too drunk to function.
"What's the matter, Cowboy? Do you need some help?" Meg shoved hands through his jean's waistline, submerging down until they took a tight grip on his package. Dean gulped, expecting it to go hard any second now. He leaned in to kiss her again, savagely, passionately, but it was almost tasteless. Meg released him, collecting her hands. She drank one of Dean's new rounds of purple nurples. "Looks like you're broken. Too bad. I was hoping you could ride me tonight."
Dean watched as Meg took off, unable to respond to her. He wasn't that disappointed in himself, though he was curious as to his inability to get turned on around the appropriate people.
"How's my patient doing?" Cas asked, as they made their usual trade.
Dean gave him a blank expression, retracting a few steps on the porch. "Peachy."
Cas raised a brow, questioningly. "I guess asking if you took my advice would be an utter waste of time."
"Exactly," Dean muttered, heading directly into his Impala. "Bye, Doc."
Dean wouldn't look back at Cas as he drove away. He was being rude as hell, when all the guy had done was be nice to him and take care of him. He even offered his couch to him. And he was nothing more than a stranger. Dean didn't have to do anything other than deliver his damn pizza on time, though. That was the only thing in his job description.
