"Ok, quick tour," Dean said when he and Doe arrived in Dean's motel room. "Main room, twin beds, boob tube. There's the fridge, there's the microwave, and there's the box of ramen noodles that is pretty much our sole source of sustenance once the casseroles and potato salad are gone." He considered. "Maybe I can get us something more now we have this money? Anyway, bathroom's that way. Too bad you're not short, huh? Tall as you are, if you lay down on the floor, you'll probably take up the entire room. But I guess beggars can't be choosers, right?"
"Right?" Doe echoed, smiling as usual at Dean.
"Right." Dean once again wondered just how much Doe really understood? Well, no help for it now, may as well plow ahead. "So, this bed is mine, that one's yours. We'll have to swing by a store and see about getting you some clothes, too. I'll end up maxing out my emergency credit card, so be it. Not like you can run around naked, is it?"
"You can run around naked," Doe offered pleasantly.
Dean snickered. "Thanks, I'll pass. But I am getting naked, because I'm calling first dibs on the shower." He directed Doe to the bed he'd assigned to him and held up the remote control. "You know what this is?"
Doe cocked his head and frowned at it in confusion.
"Guess not. Alright, this runs the TV." He put the remote in Doe's hand and went over the buttons.
Doe got the hang of channel surfing quickly. Satisfied, Dean patted him on the back. "You watch some TV while I get a shower. Then you can get one, and we can both call it a night. I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I know you just got out of a bed, but hey, at least you won't be tied down to this one, right?"
"Right?" Doe waved the remote. "Boob tube. Beggars can't be choosers."
Dean chuckled, patted his back again. Then he went for his shower.
A short time later, Dean came back out wearing fresh underwear and a t-shirt and found Doe watching, of all things, Nascar. His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching as cars drove around in a circle. Dean never could figure out the appeal. If he wanted to watch cars drive, he could look out the window, and the constant prattle of the thick southern accents grated annoyingly on his ears. "Oh, here comes a turn!" Dean called, imitating the accents. "And another turn! Yee haw, it's another turn! Don't know how y'all can watch this crap, but my theory is hypnosis. The cars constantly running around and around in a circle just puts everyone into a stupor. It's the only explanation!"
Doe's eyebrows shot up. He tilted his head towards Dean, and then tilted his head at the TV. "Yee haw!"
Dean laughed. "Hey, I was thinking, we should come up with something to call you besides John Doe, buddy, dude, or hey you. You got anything in mind?"
"No idea," Doe said.
"Ok, then if you don't mind, I'll try to come up with a suitable name for you while you're in the shower, and you can decide if you like it or not. Ok? Now go get a shower."
"Ok!" Doe didn't move.
Dean blinked in confusion. Then he quietly got up, led Doe into the bathroom, and went over the basics of showering and brushing teeth using the toothbrush from the desk clerk when they'd returned. To be safe, he explained toilet use and hygiene as well. Dean wasn't sure if Doe understood what to do or not, but shortly after he'd stepped out, Dean heard the shower turn on and the sound of splashing. Well, hopefully his new pet hero would figure it out.
Dean sat down with the phone book and began leafing through. He started with the yellow pages, looking through business names. "Novak Master Plumber." Yeah, Dean had no idea what nationality it was, but Doe looked like he could potentially be a Novak. Now he flipped through the white pages. This part was harder. Dean frowned and thought, risking giving himself another headache as he pieced names together. Finally he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and remembered the necklace the social worker had given his new friend. It clicked in his head just as he heard the bathroom door open. "Castiel Novak," Dean called. "Cass! How's that sound for a name for you?"
"Ok!"
"Great! Ok, Castiel, let's…" Dean looked up and his voice trailed off. Apparently, he'd forgotten a few important details in his instruction. Castiel was standing, dripping wet, in the middle of the hotel room wearing only a smile. Dean forgot how to talk for a moment as all the blood left his brain.
"Dean Winchester," Castiel said fondly.
"Um, Castiel?" Dean managed. "You're getting the carpet all wet. Go back into the bathroom and rub yourself dry with one of those big towels, alright?"
"Alright." Castiel turned around. He had, Dean discovered, one of the best asses Dean had ever seen. It flexed nicely as Castiel walked. The man also had thighs that went all day. He looked nearly as good from the back as he had from the front, and the front…?
Suddenly, Dean's underpants felt way too tight. "Hey Castiel, once you dry yourself off with the towel, put your underwear back on!" he yelled, silently scolding his growing erection. "We'll get you some clothes tomorrow. Meanwhile I'm going to bed." Where I will probably dream about those glutes all night. Perfect, he thought to himself. First night as this guy's guardian, and all I can do is stay under the covers to disguise the fact that I've got a raging hard-on over how fine his ass is. At this rate, this is going to be a very long weekend!
Then naturally, Castiel returned and immediately starting climbing into bed with Dean.
"No, Castiel!" Dean yelped. "Not with me, you've got your own bed! You go over to that bed there. That's it, just pull down the covers and climb in." He sighed, seeing Castiel starting to burrow headfirst under the covers. "No, not headfirst, turn around and put your feet in. You want your head on the pillow, like I am, see? No, don't come back over here, go back to your bed and…" He sighed in relief, seeing Castiel finally, mercifully, climbing correctly into his bed. "There, now you're getting it," he praised. "Ok, I'm turning off the light. Good night!"
"Good night!" called a cheerful voice from the darkness.
Having Castiel try to climb into bed with him, followed by the view he'd provided when he'd tried to climb headfirst under the blankets, had done nothing to help Dean's situation. He lay in his bed with his back to Castiel, trying and failing to stop thinking about the ridiculously handsome man lying only a few feet away from him while his heart rate and genitals returned to baseline. He finally had to resort to imagining Sammy at the beach in a uniki before he managed to kill his erection.
What a life.
Dean spent a restless night and woke up cranky. But Castiel, apparently, was a morning person. He was seated on the other bed staring and smiling happily at Dean when Dean opened his eyes. "Dude, that is creepy," he called.
"Creepy dude," called the now-familiar gravelly voice.
"Yes, you are a very creepy dude." Dean groaned, rubbed at his eyes, and got up. "You know how to make coffee, Cass? No, of course not, you don't even know how to take a shit, why would you know how to make coffee? Ugh, I need a pick-me-up so bad!"
"Pick me up!" Suddenly, Castiel's arms were around his middle, and Dean's feet were off the floor.
"No no!" Dean squeaked, finding himself suddenly crushed. "Do not do that. Put me down, Castiel! Thank you." Dean shook his head. "You know, it's like you understand English, but you don't always understand the subtle meanings of words. What I am looking for here is something that will help me wake up, like coffee. You know, a pick-me-up?"
"Pick me up!" Once again, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean and lifted the other man off of the ground.
Dean couldn't help but be impressed. He was anything but small, and in fact, was slightly taller than his companion. But he still found himself picked up with admirable ease. No, he told himself, it was not a turn on, it was an inconvenience. "Dammit, Cass!" Dean squirmed. "Ok, note to self, mind what you say." He thought for a moment, still dangling from his new friend's arms, and tried to figure out how to understand to the brain-damaged man. "Castiel?" he began, "do not pick me up. You shouldn't put your hands on other people, buddy. Nine times out of ten, if someone says they need a pick-me-up, they are not asking for you to literally pick them up. If I'm ever asking you to literally pick me up, I'll say, 'Castiel, please pick me up.' But I cannot imagine myself ever doing that. I cannot think of a single instance where picking me up would be a good thing. So unless you are sure it's a good thing, do not pick me up. Now please put me down."
Still smiling, Castiel lowered Dean again. Dean didn't say a word. He moved to the tiny coffee maker in the hotel room and started enough for two cups. Then he got into the fridge, took out a small carton of coffee creamer he'd stolen from work, and picked up the disposable coffee cups. Soon, the coffee was ready. Dean poured creamer, stirred, and handed one to his happy charge. "Now be careful with this," he warned. "It is going to be hot. Just take a sip, like this, see?" Dean sipped his coffee.
Castiel sipped at his coffee and made a face. Scowling, he handed it back to Dean.
"Ok, not a coffee drinker," Dean noted. He put the cup down and rooted in the fridge. Then he heard the sound of gulping and looked up to see Castiel downing the last of the creamer. He sighed. "Cass, we need to set some ground rules here, ok? Rule number one, do not eat or drink anything unless I tell you it's ok."
"It's ok," Castiel assured.
"No, it's not," Dean corrected irritably, "because now I have to steal some more creamer from work and Alice is going to be pissed again. Not to mention that was non-dairy creamer and God alone knows what's going to happen the next time you take a shit."
Castiel looked somewhat abashed. "Shit."
"Exactly." Dean sipped at his coffee. "Rule number two, it is generally not a good idea to go out of a room while you're naked, ok? Always put clothes on before you go through a door."
"Dude, that is creepy," Cass declared. "Not like you can run around naked, is it? It is generally not a good idea."
Dean couldn't help but smile. "Castiel, this is going to sound weird, because I barely know you and you're going to be a huge pain in the ass until you get your brain unscrambled, but honestly? I think you're about the only good thing in my life right now, besides Sam."
"Pick-me-up Castiel Novak," Castiel said.
Dean tensed, but Castiel made no movement towards him. "Huh," he mused. "You got the literal and the implied meaning of that, didn't you? Clever guy!" He took another sip of his coffee and went back into the fridge. "Ok, I got beer, that's the breakfast of champions right there. No milk, and you just drank the creamer. I got some casserole varieties, potato salad, no cheesecake, thank you very much, Bela, you bitch…"
"My own cheesecake whenever I wanted it," Cass sighed regretfully. "Now I have to steal some more. Shit."
Dean burst out laughing. "Jess is going to bitch me out for teaching you four-letter words, but what the hell, man, you can sling 'em like a champ!"
Castiel pointed at the TV. "Yee haw, it's another turn!"
"And he says that in a southern accent!" Dean groaned. "Of all the things to pick up from TV, you picked a hick accent? You did that because I was imitating it, didn't you?"
"Right!"
"Well, I suppose it could be worse. Castiel Novak, country hick?" He shook his head. "Nah, it doesn't suit you, to be honest. But we're totally getting you a cowboy hat, dude." He picked up the envelope of money. "It's amazing how generous people can be. Let's get something to eat, then we'll start searching for clothes that fit you."
Castiel grinned. "Totally getting you a cowboy hat, dude!"
"Exactly."
The two of them swung by a fast food joint, where Dean ordered them breakfast burritos. The lady behind the counter was making moon eyes at Castiel, who ignored her to focus on eating. Dean had never seen anyone so intent on chewing and swallowing a burrito before. He rarely saw someone enjoy cheap fast food as much as Castiel clearly was. His eyes were shining and his dimples were prominent as he smiled between bites. The counter lady giggled and gave Castiel a second burrito on the house, for which Dean thanked her profusely. Castiel thanked her around a mouthful of food, which seemed to take away some of his appeal for her until she heard Dean explain that this wasn't proper manners. "Oh, is he from out of the country?"
"Castiel Novak, country hick!" Castiel called, this time swallowing before speaking.
"He's got a head injury," Dean explained. "Really scrambled his brains. I'm looking after him for now. Poor guy has no idea who he is, only owns the clothes on his back. I was just about to take him shopping to at least rectify that. Wish I could get him more than a couple of outfits, but clothing is probably going to cost me a pretty penny!"
"Oh! Well, you're in luck!" She pointed down the street. "About two blocks down, there's a thrift shop. I happen to know that my boss recently gave them a whole bunch of her son's old clothes after he went to college. Your friend here looks to be just about his size. Isn't that amazing, how that just worked out?"
"Like a gift from God," Castiel intoned.
Dean shook his head, thanked her, and set off for the thrift shop.
The clothes were mostly denims and flannels, much like what Dean wore himself, but they seemed to suit Castiel. A surprising amount of it fit. Dean was delighted with how little he had to spend to get his friend several sets of clothes. There was even a straw cowboy hat, which made Dean laugh as he purchased it and set it neatly onto Castiel's head. Then he popped into a dollar store, purchased some socks and underwear, and Castiel was set for clothing. Dean grabbed a few other essentials while he was there and was grinning like a fool as he exited with his purchases.
"I cannot believe our luck, buddy!" Dean crowed as they returned to the hotel room. "Normally, I'm about the unluckiest guy on the planet, but today was just amazing! We got you clothes that fit, and we still have enough money left over to get some groceries!" He chuckled. "You know, I can't help but be worried what's going to happen when the other shoe drops."
There was a knock at the door. Dean opened it to discover two uniformed police officers. "Dean Winchester?" one asked.
"Yes?" Dean answered.
"Would you come with us, please? It's about the incident involving your vehicle and apartment building."
Dean kicked himself for opening his mouth. "What's going on?"
"Don't ask us, buddy, we're just here to pick you up."
"No no! Do not do that!" Suddenly Castiel's arms were protectively around Dean. He scowled at the officers over Dean's shoulder. "Listen, moron, I'm not a terrorist and this wasn't a bomb!"
The officers gave Castiel a sharp look. Then their eyes returned to Dean.
Dean gave them a weak grin. "He's been drinking!"
