The next few days at the hospital were difficult. It was becoming nearly impossible for Dean to stay in one place, and with the amount of free time he had, Dean found that he was spending it worrying about work, his apartment, his credit company, and what he had going on with Castiel. He spent his days working on setting up his laptop, customizing it and preparing it for when he would return to work. Once he had gotten his laptop up and running, he emailed his sub with lesson plans and a test he had prepared, and that little accomplishment made him feel much better. Still, though, it was unsettling to stay in one place for so long. Dean knew that, despite his protests, he was still in no condition to leave the hospital. His wound was healing slowly, and he was still at risk for infection, according to Doctor Morgan.
When he told Sam the news, he had insisted on coming to visit Dean. Dean had declined, though, knowing how long it took for him to drive to the hospital. Sammy didn't need to deal with this- he was busy with work and with Jess. So Dean convinced his brother he was alright, assuring him it was nothing and that he'd be out soon. Sam ordered Dean to keep him updated, and the blond man obliged.
The hospital was no place for Dean Winchester.
Dean was constantly trying to sneak off and walk around to test himself, but the nurses would always catch him and bring him back to his bed, ordering him to stay put as they re-inserted his IV tubes. Dean's legs felt weak from their lack of use, and he practiced walking in secret so he could be ready to leave as soon as possible. Well, he walked as far as the IV tubes in his arm would let him. The nurses had strictly instructed him not to take those out, again. The burning of his wound lessened and lessened as the days passed, and pretty soon he was permitted to start training his stomach to handle food, again. Dean had grown concernedly thin in such a short amount of time, so when the nurse handed him a light soup he almost inhaled it down, only being held back by stern warnings.
He took it slow, and he was patient. It hurt to eat, but he didn't let the nurses know that. The last thing he'd do is allow himself to be hooked up to IV tubes, again. He could handle food. He'd take it slow.
By Tuesday, Dean was walking about and bathing on his own (with a little difficulty, he must admit), practically mocking the nurses who told him he should sit down when they saw that he was in pain. He had insisted he was fine, and after a few tests the nurses deemed him well enough to go home the next day. Dean suspected it was out of their want for him to leave.
It didn't matter to him either way, and Dean called Sammy as soon as he got the news, ordering him to bring over the Impala when Wednesday came. The nurses had Dean and Sam sign a few papers that would deal with getting Dean's ass officially out of the hospital, and Sam paid particularly close attention to the nurse's instructions on what to eat and how to clean the stitches, along with pain medicine and antibiotics that Dean needed to take in order to enhance his recovery and prevent infection. Dean almost groaned as Sam wrote everything down, assuring the nurses that he'd make sure Dean followed their instruction. His hopes of a greasy bacon cheeseburger quickly dwindled away, but Dean found that he didn't mind when they got to the rain-soaked parking lot, his precious baby waiting for him- black painted exterior dotted with shimmering raindrops. Dean could've died with happiness right then and there.
After chucking his things in the trunk and going over a few rules with Sam (drive safely, Dean! No speeding or swerving! Put on your seatbelt- not too tight), Dean was driving the Impala, Sammy in the passenger seat. He pretended not to notice that Sam had filled up the gas, although it did irritate him. He was too happy being out of the hospital to bother arguing with his brother.
"You sure you're feeling okay?" Sam asked, eyeing Dean as he drove.
"I'm fine," he replied, placing a hand on his stitches reflexively, his left hand grasping the steering wheel as he guided the Impala onto the road towards his apartment, where Sam's had parked earlier. They had just finished picking up Dean's prescription, and the ride had been mostly silent.
Sam nodded. "Alright. But, Dean, if you need anything just call, alright? And please follow the nurse's instructions- I wrote it down for you and put it in the front pocket of your bag."
Dean snorted. "Thanks, mother," he teased, earning a light punch on the arm from his brother.
"I'm serious, man. No heavy foods- just soups for now, alright? Your stomach can't take anything more. Hell, you should probably still be hooked up to those IV's."
Dean shuddered, shaking his head. "I know how to take care of myself. 'Last place I wanna be is back in that hospital bed, believe me," Dean protested, glancing at his brother before returning his eyes to the road. Sam was silent.
"I know," he finally responded. The last of the drive went in silence, and pretty soon the two brothers were at Dean's apartment. The Impala pulled in smoothly into the parking lot, and Dean hesitated in his seat for a second or two before finally stepping out. Sam helped him get his things, and after convincing his brother that he didn't need assistance bringing his stuff in, Sammy was saying his goodbyes.
"I'll see you later, okay?" he spoke as he pulled Dean in for a hug before letting go, glancing nervously at the apartment building. It was broad daylight, but Sam still seemed anxious. Dean couldn't blame him- he was, too. "Please be careful," he whispered, meeting Dean's eyes.
Dean gave his brother a grin. "I'll be fine. Go home, Sammy. I'll call you tomorrow to update," he promised, and Sam's shoulders seemed to relax a little bit at that.
"Alright," he agreed, giving his brother a smile and pat on the back before climbing into his Volvo. "Get some rest," he advised before closing the door and starting up the car.
Dean watched as his brother drove away before he made his way to his apartment. Right outside it, something caught his eye. Dean paused. A dark stain marked the floor, right where Dean had been stabbed.
His blood.
Licking his dry lips and trying to calm his racing heart, Dean shook his head before walking into his building and quickly making his way to his room. His shaky hand fumbled around in his pocket until Dean grasped the brass key, and he unlocked the door, stepping in.
It was pretty much just how he left it last week. Dean could tell Sam had been in it, though. Things were organized and it held the deteriorating buzz of life- something it normally lacked.
Sighing, Dean closed the door behind him and walked to his bedroom, tossing his things in there before heading into the bathroom to take a long shower and clean his stitches. When he was finished, Dean sat down on his bed, finding that he was already exhausted. It was only five o'clock, and Dean felt like he had spent the whole day working out.
He couldn't go to sleep, yet. So, with that in mind, Dean set to organizing his things for work, tomorrow. He called the school to inform them of his return, and then he called Charlie to thank her for helping handle his class while he was gone, promising her he'd be back tomorrow and that he'd make it up to her. Charlie seemed happy enough with Dean's promised return, and she planned out lunch in her classroom during their break. Dean had agreed, warning his friend that he'd be eating literal bunny food, and Charlie has teased him, bragging about how she was going to eat a delicious burger right in front of him.
Despite the difficulties that would come with going back to work (grades, planning, catching up), Dean was excited to be back in his regular pattern. It had felt strange being at the hospital, and he wanted to quickly shed off all memories of the place.
When he was done doing the most he could, it was only six o'clock. For a while, Dean debated on whether or not he should go to the library and try to find Castiel. He decided against it, though, and promised himself he'd visit tomorrow.
With that hanging over him, Dean made himself some tomato soup and retired early for the night, collapsing onto the bed to earn himself some much-needed rest.
"Oh my god, he's alive!" Stacy Evans' voice rung out the moment Dean stepped into his classroom. He let out a chuckle as a crowd of voices arose, each asking question upon question, until it was impossible to decipher who was saying what.
After placing his bag down on his desk, Dean called for the class to quiet themselves. Once everyone had settled, a kid sitting in the back (Jake Murphey, if Dean was correct) spoke up.
"Is it true that you got stabbed?" he asked, once again stirring up excited voices.
Dean couldn't help but laugh at the bluntness of the question (his students were hardly ever subtle), and once the talk died down by frustrated hushes from a few curious students, Dean spoke. "Well- uh, yeah, I guess I did."
"Oh my god! Did it hurt? Are you okay?" Stephanie asked from the third row.
"Well, yeah, it wasn't pleasant. And it wasn't as cool as all the action movies make it seem, that's for sure," Dean replied, earning laughs. "It was not very fun."
"But you're okay, right?" Stephanie persisted.
Dean smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. How did Mr. Williams treat you all?" Dean asked as he unpacked his things, arranging them throughout his desk.
A collective groan sounded out, and Dean laughed at the reaction. Jake spoke up once again. "He sucked, he had us do all this work that had nothing to do with what you taught us. Ms. Bradbury ended up teaching more than he did."
Dean smiled, somewhat pleased at the fact that his class missed him just as much as he missed them. "Yeah, sorry about that," Dean apologized. "But I'm here to stay, now. And I'm probably not gonna get stabbed, again," he promised, earning more laughs. When a bunch of people started talking, asking question upon question, he called for silence. "No more on that topic. We gotta catch up, you guys are really behind."
Another chorus of groans sounded out, and Dean gave a smile as he grabbed his "Grendel" novel, flipping it open to the correct page.
"Okay, show of hands. Who actually read the book while I was gone?"
When lunch came by, Dean was grateful. He was exhausted, and although he wasn't too chipper about the thought of dining on some vegetable soup, he was thankful for a short break so he could rest himself and prepare for the remainder of the day. He made his way to Charlie's classroom as soon as his phone rang with her "a-okay", and he trudged his feet along underneath him, trying his best not to look to worn out.
As soon Charlie caught sight of him, though, she noticed. "Are you sure you should be back?" she asked right away as she pulled out a chair for him. Dean plopped down onto it gratefully, not bothering to deny how tired he really was, anymore.
"I'm fine," he assured her. How many times has he said that in the past week? "It's just the medication making me drowsy. It's all good."
Screwing her lips into a pout, Charlie rolled her eyes. "Also, it probably has to do with the fact that you should've been in the hospital for two weeks to finish healing properly."
Dean returned Charlie's eyeroll. "If the hospital let me out then that means I'm fine."
"No, it means that you bothered the poor nurses until they finally snapped," Charlie chastised.
Sighing, Dean sat up as he grabbed his soup, getting up to pop it into the microwave near Charlie's desk. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You got your cheeseburger?" he asked, looking to change the subject.
Charlie smile, lifting up a container of leafy greens. "I decided to join you in your bunny-food extravaganza," she sympathized. Dean gave her a grateful expression.
"Did I ever mention how awesome you are?" he asked as the microwave beeped.
Charlie smirked. "No, but don't let me stop you."
Dean gave her a look before dragging his chair over next to her, sitting down and stirring his soup. "So my class loved you," he noted, blowing on a spoon of mixed peas and carrots, suddenly remembering Castiel's soup he had on their date.
Charlie smiled. "Of course they did- I'm awesome. That Mr. Williams sure is a joke, though. He subbed for me when I caught the flu. My class hated him."
Dean nodded. "So did mine. What's up with that guy, anyway?"
Charlie gave a dramatic shrug and eyeroll. "No clue. He's, like, seventy or something. Shouldn't he be buying an expensive car with his retirement money and eating tapioca? Isn't that what they do?"
Dean snorted, trying not to choke on his lunch. "Careful, Charlie, we're heading down that road sooner or later."
Charlie elbowed the blond man, smiling. "Yeah, you are, Mr. Thirty. I'm still fresh and young."
Dean smiled. "Sure, whatever. Be sure to help me walk to my car later, alright? These eyes ain't what they used to be," Dean joked.
"I'll get you an attractive young model to be your assistant. Speaking of which, you wanna celebrate? Your birthday, that is. We can go to Pam's bar tonight," Charlie suggested, munching on a piece of spinach. "We promise not to get you too drunk," she spoke with a sly wink. Dean laughed, shaking his head.
"Not on a school night, Charlie. And the nurses said I can't have any alcohol, caffeinated, or sugary drinks... pretty much nothing but soup and water. Liquid diet. I don't even know if these vegetables are legal," he spoke as an afterthought, inspecting his vegetable soup.
Charlie made an exasperated noise. "But what's the point of birthdays if you can't break the rules?" she whined.
Dean shook his head. "Raincheck," he promised. "Besides, I've got something I have to do, later," Dean spoke, instantly regretting it when Charlie's eyes sparkled with curiosity. She caught the look on his face, and pounced at the opportunity to harass him.
"Ooh la la, does Mr. Winchester have a date?" she asked, smile growing wider when Dean flushed.
Dean rolled his eyes, trying to seem indifferent. "I'm not sure, actually. It depends how things go."
Charlie leaned forward in her seat, salad forgotten. "Tell me everything! Who is he? Or she? Man or woman? Dean," she suddenly exclaimed, "is it a nurse?" she asked, propping the heels of her palms on the edge of her seat.
Dean sighed, determining it useless to try and hide anything from Charlie. "A guy. Not a nurse... librarian, actually. His name is Castiel," he admitted, feeling completely dumb. Dean barely knew the guy, anyways. They had made out once. Dean didn't do relationships, and Charlie knew that. So Dean decided to cut her questions loose before she could speak, again. "I'm not gonna tell you anything more until I know for sure," he added, taking in a spoonful of soup to finalize his statement. Charlie huffed stubbornly.
"Have it your way," she spoke with a flick of her wrist. "But I'm gonna be expecting updates."
"Yeah, sure."
It took every ounce of Dean's courage to pull into the parking lot of the library after work that day. He had waited in his car, tapping his fingers on his leg as he reached for the keys… then pulled back… then reached, again. Eventually, Dean took the keys out of the ignition. That didn't force him out of the car, though, and he sat in his seat, savoring the last of the heat as it slowly trickled away in the late January chill.
Castiel probably wasn't even working, today. This was just going to be a waste of time, Dean should just go-
But what if he was in there. Would he be mad? Would he listen to Dean? Would he believe him? Would he think that Dean stood him up on purpose?
Dean's throat tightened to match his wound up nerves, and he took in a deep breath, holding it before letting it out, much to the dissatisfaction of his wound. Count to ten, Dean. When you reach ten, you're getting out of this car.
One.
What if he's mad?
Two.
He's not in there.
Three.
I should go home while I can.
Four, five, six, seven…
Come on, Winchester. Don't over think this.
Eight, nine…
It's just a guy. It's just a guy you're moderately interested in. It's probably not even gonna be serious. Just hook up with him so you can finally forget about it.
Ten.
Dean was still in his car.
He let out an annoyed drawl of a sigh as he opened his door, mumbling, "What the fucking hell is wrong with me."
He was out of the car. There was no way he could chicken out, now.
Dean's feet moved of their own accord. One step, two steps… Right, left, right, left. Dean forced himself not to think about what he was going to do- he was just gonna dive in there and do it before he could change his mind.
The heaters of the library were welcoming, and it somewhat soothed Dean's nervousness as he walked about, searching for the blue-eyed man. The library was pretty busy. Students sat at desks, some studying studiously while others had their head in their arms- a signature sign of academic defeat. There was a group of children, all supervised by two mothers who guided them to the children's books section. Older people sat about the chairs and couches, some clutching books while others held laptops, some fast asleep.
When he didn't spot Castiel right away, Dean almost considered turning around and booking ass outta there. But then he found him working front desk along with an older lady, checking out some books for children. He looked extremely busy, and that sight was almost enough to make Dean want to apologize for intruding and head straight out. His body moved him towards the man, though, propelling him forward out of his own will and before he even realized it he had called out Castiel's name.
Castiel's head shot up at the sound of his name, and when he met Dean's gaze he seemed shocked, eyes widening and mouth agape before his facial expression suddenly hardened, seeming quite angry. It was a strange look on the man, and Dean was ready to explain his situation when Castiel's gaze suddenly shifted downwards, to Dean's torso. He paled, and caught the arm of the old lady working beside him, whispering something to her to which she nodded at. Before Dean could even comprehend it, Castiel was stepping out from behind the desk, and making his way towards Dean.
Dean remained still, refusing to step forward until Castiel reached him. The dark-haired man grabbed at Dean's left arm, moving it away from him as he squinted at Dean's torso before looking back up, meeting Dean's eyes. "Who did it?" he asked, his voice monotonous. Dean's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked down at his shirt.
How could Castiel tell? Dean was wearing a green button down shirt and a jacket over that. The bandage underneath was barely even detectable- in fact, it was impossible to see at all.
He looked back up at Castiel, raising an eyebrow. "Nice to see you, too, Cas," he breathed out, shocked by the strange behavior.
Castiel's lips hardened into a line, and he let go of Dean's arm. "Come with me," he ordered, turning sharply on his heel as he made his way to the back of the library. Dean followed, no questions asked as they slipped into a storage room.
Castiel flicked on the lights, then turned to face Dean, again. "Show me," he commanded, and Dean caught where he was looking- directly at the scar. How the hell could he tell it was there? And, for God's sake, what did he want him to do? Take off his shirt?
When Castiel's expression did not waver, Dean realized that's exactly what he wanted him to do.
Sighing, Dean unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt, pulling the cloth away to show Castiel where the bandage covered.
The fortune teller stepped forward, reaching out to trace the bandage. Dean flinched instinctively, and Castiel looked up at him, seeming concerned. "Who did it?" he asked again, this time with a certain softness lacing his tone.
Dean buttoned his shirt back up, looking anywhere but at Castiel. "Some kid mugged me outside my apartment, then took my wallet," Dean explained, crossing his arms defensively.
Castiel's eyebrows furrowed, and he didn't remove his gaze from Dean's face. "When did this happen?" He sounded breathless.
Dean met Castiel's gaze, again, searching through those haunting blue eyes. This was not at all how he expected Castiel's reaction to be. He expected a lot more convincing on his part, and a hell of a lot more anger on Cas' part. The last thing he thought would happen was Cas believing him so easily. "Uhm… last week… on Tuesday."
Castiel seemed distressed, now. "After you took me home?" he asked.
Dean shrugged, knowing where Castiel was going with this. He cracked a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Y'know, a little fortune telling would've been nice," he joked, earning a stern look from Castiel.
"This isn't funny, Dean," he chastised.
Dean kept his grin, though. "Sure it is," he insisted. "I got my ass kicked by a kid."
Castiel didn't respond, and Dean resisted the urge to sigh. He didn't like this- having Castiel worry about him. It felt strange… it felt scary. They barely knew one another- why the hell would Castiel care so much?
"Anyways," Dean spoke, trying to change the subject. "I came back," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.
Castiel was fighting back his smile, now, trying to remain angry at Dean. "That you did," he agreed, eyes flickering to Dean's lips then back up so fast that Dean was convinced it was a trick of the dim storage closet lighting.
Yet, Dean chanced himself, placing a hand on Castiel's hip as he pulled him near. "I'd still like that second date," he admitted, heart hammering so loud he feared Castiel could hear it.
The grin on Castiel's face was full, now, and he allowed himself to move closer in Dean's grasp. "You think I'm going to let you off that easy, Mr. Winchester?" He teased, making Dean roll his eyes before he smiled.
"I was hoping," he played along. Castiel leaned upwards, so that their lips were almost touching- connected by buzzing electric energy that traveled through mingling breaths.
"You know," his low voice purred, making Dean shiver. "The library has a phone."
Dean's jaw dropped at the statement. He hadn't even thought of that. Through all the free time at the hospital and the freaking out over what Cas would think, he never once thought to just call the goddamned library. The answer was so ridiculously simple that Dean had no idea how to even respond. Castiel laughed at his expression, reaching forward to kiss Dean gently- just a small connection of lips before he parted them.
Dean ducked back in for another kiss, not even realizing how much he had missed this. Damnit, it had only been a week, too. Castiel placed his arms on Dean's back, pulling him in as their kissing deepened. When their lips parted, Dean spoke.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking into Castiel's eyes.
Castiel chuckled, shaking his head. "There is no need to apologize," he insisted. "I'm glad you're alright."
Dean sighed, moving his hands up Cas's sides. "You probably thought I ditched you."
Castiel shrugged. "Honestly, I did. I thought you had set me up. It was quite… disappointing. But now I see you had more urgent matters at hand."
Dean gave a small smile. "I really wanted to see you," he admitted, not even caring how needy it sounded.
Castiel searched Dean's eyes before looking down, reaching out a hand to brush the tips of his fingers over where Dean's bandage laid. Dean watched, observing the way Castiel's slender fingers traced lightly- resisting the urge to pull away and listen to the warning bells that sounded in his head. Dean could only barely feel the press of Castiel's fingertips- it was almost as if they weren't there at all. "How are you feeling?" Castiel asked before looking back up.
"I'm fine," Dean replied, reaching forward to kiss away the frown that played on Castiel's lips. "Really," he insisted.
Castiel smiled, then. "Well enough for a date on Friday?" he asked.
Dean could feel his heart jump up, and the feeling reached his throat. He managed to nod as he smiled. "Definitely."
Castiel seemed delighted with Dean's answer. He reached forward and continued their kisses, lips molding and pressing in a dizzying heat. Dean's lips hummed with the friction, practically forcing him to push into Castiel, closing up any gaps between them. Long, warm hands planted themselves at Dean's sides, bunching up the material of his jacket and pulling him nearer, far more gently than they had been last week. He wanted those hands under his clothes, roaming with an unfamiliar stride and sliding over him with the silky smoothness of skin to skin- he wanted them on his head, pulling at his hair and bringing him in, guiding him to lips, tongue, teeth.
The fortune teller nosed Dean away, panting as he gazed at Dean's lips. "We could spend it at my house," he suggested, a sly look in his eyes as they rose upwards. Dean's gut burned with need and he nodded, pressing forward to reclaim Castiel's lips.
"Yes," he agreed, placing controlled kisses on slick lips. "Yeah, sounds good."
Then they were back at it, Dean grasping on tight to Castiel's hips, thumbs rubbing circles as he nipped at Castiel's lower lip, drawing out a hum from the man. Castiel's hands flew up to cradle Dean's cheeks, fingers running along the curve of bone as they slid back into his hair, pulling at the tendrils almost as if he could hear Dean's thoughts. Dean couldn't help the satisfied growl he let out as he licked and kissed and sucked. Slowly, Castiel's hands trailed down to Dean's back, pressing his chest in so they were flush against one another, making the kissing angle awkward. Dean didn't mind, though, savoring the warm heat Castiel's body provided and distracting himself from the burn in his wound as Castiel reciprocated Dean's kisses.
Castiel did things to Dean's tongue that went straight to his imagination, sucking and circling and teasing at the tip and edge, and soon Dean was parting their lips, feeling a hard on come along. "We could go now," he suggested, voice barely there at all as he gave Castiel some more kisses. Castiel was smiling against Dean, making their teeth clink as he laughed into Dean's parted lips. Dean breathed it in deeply, tasting peppermint and something sweet- something that could only be described as Castiel. He found that he was subconsciously memorizing Castiel's laugh, too.
Castiel gave Dean a long, full kiss before he smiled and moved his hands to place themselves on Dean's chest, pushing him away slightly. They were still close enough for Dean to see all the different shades of blue that colored the fortune teller's eyes. The blue was hardly there at all now that his eyes were mostly dark pupils- filled with lust and need. "I have to go back to work, Mr. Winchester," he panted out, raising a challenging eyebrow as the smirk stayed on his face.
Dean let his fingers run up Castiel's sides lightly, drinking in the way the librarian's body shivered underneath his fingertips. He planted a kiss on the corner of Castiel's lips, smirking when he saw them pucker slightly, awaiting a real kiss. "Are you sure?" he asked, although he knew the answer.
"Yes," Castiel confirmed, clearing his throat to steady his shaky voice. He licked his lips as he tore away his gaze from Dean. Suddenly, he straightened up. "Here," he spoke, turning around and grabbing a notepad and pen from a nearby table. He scrawled onto it, then ripped out the paper, handing it to Dean with a sly smile. "Just in case."
Dean took the paper. It was Castiel's number. He smiled, pocketing it. "So… tomorrow?" he asked.
An upward turn of lips. "Tomorrow."
As Dean drove back to his apartment, body buzzing with excitement and lips tingling with remnants of heated kisses, he knew he was in too deep. The slip of paper weighed like lead in Dean's pocket, and his fingers brushed at it every few seconds. His mind was made up, and Dean knew what he wanted.
There would be no turning back, now.
Wow, i had major writers block with this one! If there are any errors, let me know! :)
i hope y'all enjoyed
Goodbye, lovelies!~
