AN: Hey guys :) I'm back, and the trip was awesome! I was so tired I literally slept for about fourteen hours straight. Sorry it's taken me a while to update, things came up and I've had some family things to deal with this past week. Anyway, on the story- I have had a few really.. interesting ideas.. and I am excited to see where they go. I never really know where my stories are going until I get there, ya know. Ehh.
Anyway, excuse my rambling. Disclaimer: I definitely don't own Supernatural or make any money off of it. If I did I wouldn't be a poor student.
One last thing- on last nights episode: what in the name of all that is good and holy. WHAT.
After the incident that night, Dean had sat in Castiel's apartment overnight while the cook slept on the couch. Cas had insisted he didn't need to stay, but Dean had insisted otherwise and had won that war without too much effort. By the time the next Tuesday rolled around and it was the evening Cas would take the food to the homeless shelter, Dean had been able to think the situation over.
He had thought about it all day (and the next day) after the trip to the ER. The way Castiel had responded to the random attack had been abnormally calm, in Dean's opinion, and his response when the police said they hadn't found them was just as collected. It was odd to Dean, but he figured it all up to the fact that Cas was too laid back and nice for his own good.
And then there was the fact that it had all happened so spontaneously. There wasn't anything Dean could think of that would provoke an attack on Cas from anyone-he was a nice guy and didn't get in fights with people, he didn't hang out with any shady crowd-Dean couldn't figure where it had come from. They hadn't been after the food, and Cas' wallet had still been intact when investigated, so that ruled common mugging and thievery out.
Needless to say, all the thinking and pondering on the issue made Dean decide some things. He wasn't going to let Cas go on anymore good Samaritan runs by himself anymore, at least not for the time being. So at promptly ten o'clock on Tuesday, Dean showed up to the diner and offered to help Cas take the food to the shelter. Cas didn't have to say anything, the looks of appreciation he shot Dean were enough. So it began that every Tuesday and Wednesday night, they would make a run to the shelter together and drop the food off.
It was a few weeks later, a Thursday night. Cas hadn't worked Tuesday and had decided to make up for that night by delivering the food Thursday. They pulled up in front of the homeless shelter, making their way inside the dimly lit, small, unsanitary building with the bags of food. Usually they would drop the food at the outside gate, sometimes stopping to talk to the huddle of scruffy men smoking cigarettes outside under a street lamp, but tonight Cas insisted on taking in the food themselves.
"What's so special about tonight?" Dean asked. Cas just smiled and continued in his silent trek down the hall. They delivered the food to the small kitchen, and Dean followed Cas back down the hallway. However, instead of turning back to the exit, Cas made a left turn and walked down the hall, hands in his pockets. Dean noticed he had that excited sort of walk someone gets when they're anticipating something they have been waiting for. He remained silent and followed Castiel down the hall, intrigued to see where this was leading.
Cas stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall and rapped on the door frame, leaning against the wall to wait and shooting Dean a small smile. Dean was about to inquire what exactly they were doing, but he was cut short by the door opening. A short, blonde woman wearing a dirty, faded nurses scrubs opened the door.
"Castiel!" her eyes lit up when they fell on the dark haired cook, and she encompassed him in a tight hug.
"Laura! Good to see you," Cas replied. He motioned to Dean, and Dean gave a small wave. "This is my friend, Dean." He hesitated a moment, and then raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? Can I see her?" he asked. Dean's heart thudded in his chest unsurely. 'Her'? Who's 'her'?
Laura nodded, leading them into the room and softly shutting the door behind them. Dean trailed awkwardly behind, feeling out of place and in the dark. Looking around, he took in the room. It was small, with grey walls and a hard tile floor. There was one window with the curtains drawn, on the wall opposite the door. Beneath it was a small bed, covered in out of place colorful bedding-all soft pastels with butterflies and flowers stitched into the comforter. Beneath the covers lay a small girl. Dean would've guessed her to be around seven years old, but she was so frail that it was difficult to say for sure. Her dark curls outlined her pale skin against the pillow she was resting on.
Dean watched silently as Cas sat down on the edge of the bed, gingerly so as not to disturb the girl. She turned her head and opened her eyes as he did so, and a smile flitted across her face.
"Oh, it's you, Cas." Her voice was full of spirit, but was quiet and weak, matching her outward appearance. Cas smiled and patted her knee.
"Hello Dakota. Miss me?" Cas asked. Dakota shrugged.
"Oh, I guess, a little bit."
"Come on now, just a little bit?" Dean smiled at the sad face Castiel tried to pull. Dakota wasn't buying it.
"That's a lot," she said.
"You just said it was a little bit!" Cas teased.
"You know what I mean," she said. Cas shrugged.
"I guess so. Hey, Laura says you've been feeling better," he said. Dakota nodded. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Don't forget that we have a date to make," he said.
"French fries, dipped in icecream, right?" she asked.
"Absolutely! I'm so glad you remember," Cas said, laughing. Dean felt something akin to admiration swell inside him, maybe pride and humility and a sweet, good feeling too. He didn't know what to call it, exactly.
Dakota had stopped giggling at Cas. "Well of course, silly-willy. I can't forget you," she said, moving her tiny hand to rest over Cas'. Something caught her eye. "Hey, what happened to your eye?" she asked, tilting her head sideways. Dean almost laughed-he had seen Cas mimic the exact same questioning head turn millions of times.
"Oh, this old thing?" Cas pointed at the tiny remainder of a cut over his eyebrow. "Oh, it's nothing. Hit my head on a cabinet in the kitchen." Dean glanced quickly at Cas, but his face gave nothing away. Dean knew for a fact that cut hadn't come from any cabinet door, and could remember quite vividly mopping blood from the cut. Dean understood not telling Dakota, though. She obviously cared a lot about Cas, and there was no need to worry her.
Cas quickly switched the subject. "Hey, Dakota. This is my best friend, Dean." Dean started to wave, but Castiel caught him by the sleeve and pulled him close. Dean lingered a moment-he liked the sound of that-he was Cas' best friend. Hmm.
Dakota reached out with the hand she was not using to hold onto Cas with, and Dean shook it gently. It was so odd feeling, the delicate pale hand clasping his long, tan fingers in a firm shake. He had to hand it to her, the girl knew how to shake hands.
"I've heard about you," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Cas said something once, but I don't think he knew you very well. And then I got sick."
"Hmm.. what did he say about me?" Dean asked, sitting in the chair beside the girl's bed. Dean was vaguely aware that Laura had left at some point, unnoticed at first by the chatting group. Dakota smiled a lopsided grin up at Dean.
"Well, I'm not sure I should say."
"Aww, why not?"
"Well, if I must. He said you had started coming into the diner where he works, and you ate a lot of pie, and that you smelled." Dakota stated this with a matter-of-fact tone. Dean pretended to be offended.
"Me? Smell?"
"Oh yes," Dakota nodded her head, "he said you smell like shop grease, leather, and… mmm.." she bit her lip, eyes on the ceiling as if she'd find what she had forgotten written on the wall. "Oh yeah- and open air." She sighed. "I don't know what open air is supposed to smell like," she shrugged. Cas laughed, and Dean chuckled.
"Well, I guess that's not too bad," Dean said, shrugging. "And I do like pie," he said.
"Oh, me too."
"Yeah, what kind?"
A discussion of pies and different flavors and baking ensued, and by the time Laura had re-entered the room, Dean and Dakota were getting along quite well, with Cas occasionally throwing in his professional baker's opinion. It seemed like too short of a time before they were saying goodbye, promising to come back and visit again soon.
"Wait! I mean, Dean?"
They stopped on their way out of the door, and Dean turned attentively back to Dakota.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
Dakota blushed and had to control her giggling before she could talk. "Could you come here?"
Dean decided that she could've asked him for the moon and he would've retrieved it for her-the little girl had roped him in with her witty humor and intelligence, the ability to smile even through the illness, so without further ado he made his way to her bed.
Without warning, Dakota shot a hand up and grabbed him by the jacket, pulling him close. At first he thought she wanted a hug, but Dean realized she had her face buried in the neck of his leather jacket, breathing in. After a moment, satisfied, she pushed him away.
"You do smell like shop grease," she said, smiling sweetly. "Now I know," she stated simply. Dean laughed, and then had a thought.
"Hey, I got something for you." He proceeded to pull off his jacket and hand it over to the young girl, whose eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
"For me!? Really, it's mine?" Dakota asked, clutching it tightly, already snuggling under it, a welcome addition to the colorful yet threadbare blankets. Dean figured at this point, he couldn't get it back even if he had wanted to.
"Yeah, for keeps," he said. She thanked him profusely, and tussling her hair, they said goodbye one last time and made their way out of the room and to the parked car outside. Dean finally looked at Cas for the first time since their exit, meeting his eyes over the top of the car.
"Good kid," Dean commented. Cas nodded slowly, and Dean courteously tried to pretend he didn't see the cook wipe a runaway tear off his cheek. A pregnant silence filled the air for a moment.
"She's dying, Dean." Cas looked away, taking sudden interest in the street lamp across the road, not bothering to wipe the second tear off his face, or the third, or any of the ones that followed. "The doctors didn't expect her to live this long. I didn't think I'd get to talk to her again, honestly." Cas looked across the top of the car again, watery blue eyes meeting Dean's green eyes. "You made her day, giving her your jacket," he commented. Dean shrugged-it seemed like such a little thing, all of a sudden. "No, really." Cas fixed him with a sincere look. "It means more than you know."
Dean had bit his lip and nodded. Cas smiled a sad smile and unlocked the car and climbed inside. Dean hesitated a moment, quickly wiped his eyes free of tears and ducked into the car.
AN: So yeah. This is taking an interesting turn but I swear it won't be drawn out. I don't want a long drawn out thing, because this is supposed to be short and fluffy and sweet. But hey, it's my plot line and I'll do whatever I want with it. SO yeah. I'll update again soon, probably within the next few days.
Love yall ;)