"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean is sitting on his bed tying up his boots, getting ready for a busy morning. Sam groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow. "Rough night?"

"Mmmm. Went to some after party and was out way too late. I never knew that Olympians could party like rock stars."

Dean stands up and kicks the side of Sam's mattress to get his brother moving. "Dude, you need to take it easy… and that's coming from me!"

Sam slowly sits up and heads towards the shower. "Yeah, hey where were you, anyway? You just disappeared after the opening ceremony."

"Told you, I went to take that video to Cas."

"Cas? Oh, that skater from yesterday? That shouldn't have taken long. And when did he become Cas? I thought you couldn't stand him."

Dean shrugs, "Turns out he's not so bad."

Sam leans his head out of the bathroom door. "Well that's a far cry from – what did you call him before? Pretentious uptight dick?"

Dean decides not to meet his brother's inquisitive glare and busies himself donning the rest of his official US Olympic team gear. At least this is better than yesterday's cardigan. He is wearing a white tracksuit with red and blue subtle accents and a stylish sporty navy blue jacket. "Yeah, well, I figured I ought to make nice with the guy whose face I busted up. He's alright, liked the video too."

"Awww, look at you, playing nice and making friends with the other kids on the playground."

"Shut up and get ready!" Dean grumbles at his brother affectionately. "We've got bullshit interviews all morning and I know how long it takes you to do your hair for the cameras."

Sam just gives him a bitch face and returns to the mirror, no doubt digging around in his bag for all of the stupidly expensive product that it takes to keep his too long hair looking artfully tousled.

Dean checks his own look in the mirror and thinks again of Castiel. The guy did turn out to be really great. He had completely expected the same reaction from the skater that he got from his manager. They guy had to be pissed, right? He's stuck in a hospital instead of enjoying this whole Olympic experience and he mentioned that he wasn't sure right now if he'd be able to compete. Just the thought of that makes Dean a little sick to his stomach.

But Cas had offered him forgiveness, recognized that Dean didn't think he deserved it but gave it anyway. And that gesture had meant probably more than it should to Dean. Why did it even matter? Its sports, people get hurt all the time. For some reason, though, Castiel felt important to him.

Damn, Dean thinks, what's wrong with me? Why can't I get this skater out of my mind? Sure, the guy is hot, but Dean is usually able to ignore that part of himself. Even looking like hell lying in a hospital bed all bruised, stitched, and tired, Dean couldn't help the little flip that his stomach made when he locked eyes with the man and shook his hand.

Last night, he had had more fun sitting in a dark hospital room with Castiel than he has had with a real date in a long time. He can't remember the last time he connected with someone so easily. And then there was that moment when Castiel woke him. He wasn't quite awake yet, hadn't put up his usual guard and he had caught the man's eyes and just couldn't look away. Holy shit! It had been crazy! He had held his breath, actually couldn't fucking breathe for a moment with how much he wanted to close the few inches between them and kiss Cas.

Dean sits down and drags his hand over his face, sighing. How did everything get so out of control? He had a perfectly executable plan coming into this Olympics and it definitely didn't include the hot blue-eyed skater. Well, it's time to get this plan back on the right track. He is going to go to his interviews today and answer all the questions just right and play his best hockey. And he never has to see Cas again.

He takes out his phone to delete the picture that he was so stupid to save in the first place. He pulls it up and takes a look at it. What is it about this guy with those deep eyes and that ridiculous Constantine-looking trench coat? Well, no more, he decides. He is going to delete this picture and forget about the skater. But his brother comes out of the bathroom and he is quick to lock his phone with the picture still on it.

"And you're on in five, four, three, two, one." The director points at the interviewer and Dean paints on his press smile. He is hot under the lights and the unforgiving glare of the cameras, but he and Sam have been booked for interviews all morning. It's his least favorite part of hockey but unfortunately, a part of playing this game.

Well, at least this morning's interview with Bob Costas was actually about hockey. He was able to talk about strategy and the challenges of forming a cohesive team out of a bunch of players from around the NHL who have only had a few days to learn how to play together. It was interesting and stimulating, but now that the serious interviews are over they have moved on to the lesser known news sites.

The woman sitting across from Dean and his brother now is a perky reporter for some online entertainment and gossip news site. They are doing human interest stories for the Olympics and Dean knows that the story of two brothers that grew up with a father in the AHL and now making it to the Olympics together is the kind of story those rags eat up.

The reporter, Becky Rosen, has been staring down Sam as if he were a juicy steak and every time Dean looks over at his brother it takes everything in him not to laugh at the incredibly uncomfortable look on his face.

"So, Sam," Becky says with all of the wide eyed reverence of a teenage girl meeting their crush, "You and your brother have almost supernatural chemistry… on the ice. You are being compared to other great hockey brothers like the Richards or Dennis and Bobby Hull. Can you tell our readers how this developed?"

"Wow, even to be considered in the same league as the Richard or Hull brothers is an honor. I hope we can live up to that. Well, Dean and I come from a hockey family. Our father played in the American Hockey League and taught us the game. We've been playing hockey together as long as I can remember so I guess we just have so much experience together it just sort of comes together on the ice."

Dean adds, "I think we spent more time in skating rinks than in school growing up. We were doing skating drills and passing and shooting the puck for hours each morning before most kids were even out of bed."

"But it's more than that," Sam continues, "Our styles complement one another. I'm tall and have a long reach that I can use to control the puck and feed it to Dean, who has crazy speed and laser sharp aim. We even developed ways to silently signal to each other on the ice so we can quickly predict the other's moves. It just works."

Becky looks a bit bored with the technical hockey talk and unsurprisingly, changes the topic, "Our readers would really like to know about you as brothers. Tell me, are you close?"

Dean and Sam share a knowing glance, "Yeah," says Sam, "we're pretty close. Honestly, we were raised by a single father who had a pretty crazy schedule. Dean really stepped up and took care of us both."

Dean squirms uncomfortably at the compliment. He has never been any good at taking honest praise. Becky catches his moment of weakness and pounces on it like a hungry lioness.

She turns her focus on him with a conspiratorial smile, "And Dean, we hear there is a new love in your life. What can you tell us about it?"

Dean's jaw drops a bit and he catches his brother looking at him inquisitively out of the corner of his eye. He is about to panic. How the hell does this reporter know about him and Cas? And really there isn't even anything to tell! I mean, yeah, he's definitely into the guy but he wasn't that obvious about it, was he? Who even saw them together? He can feel a blush creeping up his face and sweat start to bead on the back of his neck.

"S-sorry?" He tries to sound as casual around a thick swallow.

"Oh, don't try to play innocent, Dean. The pictures have been all over social media this morning," Becky is grinning now, wide eyed and practically salivating at the juicy gossip she has uncovered.

"Pictures? I don't know-"

But just as his brain is about to go on overload, the large screen beside them lights up with a huge picture of him with Bela in the bar the other night, his arm around her shoulder. She is looking up at him and he is leaning down, probably to say something in her ear, he can't really tell but it definitely looks like they are canoodling.

The realization that Becky isn't talking about his whatever with Castiel but instead is referring to Bela hits him with a wave of relief. Sure he had felt… well… something for the guy but he wasn't about to act on it. This isn't the time and definitely isn't the place to go exploring his occasional attraction to men. Nope, this picture with Bela is the perfect distraction and he is going to go with it.

Becky points to the picture, "Isn't that you with British biathlete Bela Talbot? Tell me, is romance in the air of Sochi?"

Dean quickly regains his composure and smiles at Becky, "Yes, that's Bela. We met her at the athlete's village our first night here. Sorry, no juicy gossip for you, Becky, we just met and we're only friends. You can count on no romances for me here in Sochi."

Becky gives him a knowing smirk and tells him, "We'll see. Sometimes love sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Don't you agree, Sam?" She turns to Sam and bats here eyelashes in his direction, about as subtle as a freight train.

The face Sam makes is so hilarious Dean would laugh out loud if they weren't in front of cameras right now. The poor guy looks incredibly uncomfortable but manages to regain his composure and tell Becky, "No, I don't think that love is in the cards for either of us right now. We both have some really important hockey games coming up so our concentration will be on our sport. I think we would both agree," he adds, nodding at Dean, "that our focus right now is solely on Sunday's game."

Dean backs up Sam's statement and quashes any gossip about his personal life that Becky tries to bring up. She gets frustrated as the interview goes on when they continue to steer the conversation back to hockey no matter how many times she tries to bring up their personal lives. Eventually, she tires of getting nowhere and ends the interview with a stiff handshake for Dean and an unexpected and awkward hug for Sam.

As soon as they leave the building where the interviews are being held, Dean turns to Sam and laughs, "Dude, are you sure romance isn't in the air? Pretty sure it was love at first sight for Becky."

Sam groans uncomfortably, "Don't remind me. First of all, there's no such thing as love at first sight and second, that was just creepy. Is it me or does she seem like the kidnap-a-guy-and-keep-him-drugged-and-restrained type of girl?"

Dean laughs and claps his brother on the shoulder, "Definitely, man. I think we may want to stay clear of her while we are here. She's got stalker written all over her."

The both laugh about the passionate reporter and head back to the village.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growls at Sam's laptop. He has been trying to send Cas the video from last night but it keeps getting rejected for being too large of an attachment. Shit! There's no way to avoid it. He promised the guy he could have a copy of the video which means he is going to have to copy it for him and take it to him.

Part of him wants nothing more than to see Cas again. He wants to see how he is doing, find out if he can compete, but really, he just enjoys spending time with him. There is another part of Dean, though, that wants to avoid Cas at all costs. That's the part that is afraid of liking him too much, afraid of the connection that they seem to have, and mostly afraid of how attracted he is to the skater.

Before he talks himself out of it, he pulls the thumb drive out of the laptop, grabs his coat, and heads towards the door. Luckily, Sam isn't here to ask him where he is going. He went with Jo to watch some of the events and should be gone for most of the afternoon.

He arrives at Castiel's hospital room just in time to catch the man before he is discharged. He looks so much better today, the swelling and bruising on his forehead have gone down and he looks fresh and rested. He is dressed in a crisp white tracksuit accented with bright red patterns that indicate he is wearing the mandatory Russian athletic gear. He has a day of scruff and his dark hair is just sort of shaken so that it falls casually over his forehead, possibly in some futile attempt to hide his stitches. It's a good look on him, even if he does look a little hippy-ish.

Castiel slings his bag over his shoulder and turns towards the door stopping in his tracks when he spots Dean.

"Hey, Rocky, how are you feeling today?" Dean grins at the skater.

"Rocky?"

"Yeah, y'know, with the stitches you kind of have that whole bad-ass fighter vibe going on. Maybe you should change your music to Eye of the Tiger and really rock the look."

Castiel rolls his eyes, "Had I known a year ago when I choreographed it, that some reckless hockey player would try to kill me a few days before my short program, I might have selected that music."

Dean feels that familiar pang of guilt and bites his bottom lip.

"I'm kidding!" Castiel chides, "Actually, my first program is to music from Star Wars so a few stitches work well with the Han Solo motif."

Dean raises his eyebrows, "Seriously? I thought you guys had to use, like, classical music and sparkly costumes and shit like that."

Castiel shrugs, "It used to be standard practice, but things have changed. We have actually found that using popular recognizable music increases scores because it engages the audience more. And I despise sequins! I'm already a gay figure skater. Adding glitter is a little clichéd, don't you think?"

Dean nearly chokes. You've got to be kidding! Cas is into guys and a Star Wars fan? Dammit, he needs to stop! Seriously, if this guy says he likes Vonnegut or can identify a '67 Impala all bets are off and Dean won't be held responsible for where his hands end up.

Dean blinks at Cas stupidly before he realizes his jaw may or may not be hanging open. He coughs and shakes his head clear of the inappropriate thoughts he was just having of Cas dressed like Han Solo. "So… um… does that mean you can compete?"

Castiel smiles at him, "Probably. I've been cleared to get back on the ice. As long as there are no equilibrium problems, I'm skating. I just have to find some ice time."

"Dude, I feel terrible about what happened. Tell you what, I have ice reserved for two hours tomorrow morning. Sam, Vic and I are good, though. We don't need that much time. You want an hour of it? It's even a closed practice time so no reporters watching."

"Thank you, Dean, I would really appreciate that"

"Are you kidding? I owe you after what happened. Let me make it up to you. Hey, you hungry? I'm buying if you want to get a burger."

"I would like that."

The two men find a restaurant right off the main plaza. It is stuffed with tourists and Dean and Castiel end up with a seat by the window where they can watch the hubbub of the busy Olympic village. It serves a variety of international fare in an attempt to cater to the diverse crowd here for the games and the men are pleased to find burgers and fries on the menu.

When their meals arrive they dig into both the food and the conversation. Cas does this sort of shy smile thing when Dean says something that he finds entertaining and Dean finds himself trying to say the anything to see that look on Cas' face. And Dean also finds that he can't get enough of Cas' voice. It's deep and gravely with that hint of an accent that gives Cas this sort of foreign mysterious air, which is all kinds of hot.

The men relax into comfortable conversation and Dean is loving every minute of it.

"Seriously, man? You're studying Anthropology?" Dean asks through a mouthful of ketchup smothered French fries. "I never did have the patience for that book stuff. I'm more of a hands-on guy, y'know, fixing cars, shooting pucks."

"Anthropology is way beyond book learning. I love the variety of human societies. People are each so unique and every one is like an individual work of art and when you put them together in communities they form these distinctive tapestries of culture. It's also fun learning about the innovative things we have done to survive and evolve. It's the little stuff that interests me, like how humans learned about coffee from goats."

Dean raises his eyebrows, "Really? What, the three billy goats gruff have a little hipster coffee house?"

Castiel chuckles, "Something like that."

"Sounds like you and Sam would get along great. He was a bookworm too. Always wanted to go to college but when he was offered an NHL contract right out of high school… well, you know, hockey, the family business, kind of took priority."

"And how about you?" Castiel takes a drink of his beer and asks Dean, "Did you want to go to school?"

"Hell no! I couldn't wait to be done with school. I always liked working with my hands better than being in school. Like, I could fix things – I rebuilt my car from the ground up. I always did well in stuff like physics and engineering so I guess I could have majored in that, but my dad made it pretty clear that I was going to be a hockey player. So when I was picked in the draft it worked out well. I was able to make enough to take care of Sam and get him through high school."

"You took care of Sam? Where were your parents?"

Dean knows that his face falls. "My mother passed away when I was four and my dad died just before I was picked up in the NHL draft."

Castiel looks at him with genuine sympathy, "Dean, I'm so sorry to hear that."

Dean looks away and takes a drink, he hates it when people pity him. He doesn't want to see that look from Cas. He remembers that terrible time. He had been in his senior year of high school and after his father died, his grades all went to shit and he eventually just gave up and dropped out. He had a complicated relationship with his father. He idolized him and did everything the man said so with him gone, Dean was left faltering for a long time.

"The worst part," he tells Castiel, "is that he never got to see me play in the pros. All that work and training and he died before he got to see Sammy and me play together."

"So you took care of Sam after that?"

Dean laughs, a bitter sound, "I was taking care of Sam long before that. As soon as I was old enough my dad stopped dragging us around to away games. It was just too expensive and difficult to travel with two kids. So from the time I was about nine or ten, I was left to take care of him most of the regular season. So my childhood was pretty much training on days when my dad was home and taking care of Sam when he wasn't."

Castiel does this eye squint and head tilt thing that makes Dean feel like he is kind of looking into his soul. It makes him squirm a bit but at the same time he can't seem to look away. "That is immense responsibility, Dean. You seem to have done an admirable job."

Dean shakes his head, "Not always, man. That first year I was in the NHL? I had no father and lots of disposable income for pretty much the first time in my life. I was kind of an asshole. It was like a year of women, parties and bad decisions. Actually, it was Sam who helped me get my act back together. I had gotten into some trouble and I knew that if I lost my contract, he would get taken away from me since he was still under age. There was no way I was letting him go to some foster home."

Castiel's face seems to fall. He stops eating and looks down at his food, seemingly far away. Dean wonders what he said wrong. He was having a great conversation with Cas. The guy is really cool and seemed interested in what Dean had to say until he brought up the trouble he had gotten into his rookie year. Maybe Cas had seen some of the bad press from that hell year or knows about his arrest. Shit! Are those bad decisions going to follow him forever?

He decides it's probably time to cut his losses, pay the bill and get out of here. Someone like Cas is probably disgusted by the idea of hanging out with a brutish hockey player who is nothing but a high school drop out with a criminal record. He hates himself for the disappointed feeling that it settling in his gut. This is why he sticks to one night stands and casual acquaintances.

"You know," Dean says a bit defensively, "I'm not that person anymore."

Castiel's head snaps up and he looks surprised. "Dean, no, sorry. I was just thinking." He looks around uncomfortably, avoiding looking right at Dean. "You aren't what I expected."

Dean huffs and shakes his head, "Sorry to disappoint, man."

"You misunderstand me, Dean." This time Castiel does make eye contact. He has Dean locked on his gaze and Dean doesn't think he could look away if his life depended on it. He raises his eyebrows and his eyes widen a bit and, seriously, they become this impossible shade of blue. "You aren't what I expected because I had the wrong idea of who you were before we met. You are…" Cas stops for a moment to contemplate, "surprising… in a good way."

Dean's stomach does an unexpected flip at the compliment and he isn't ready to deal with that at all. Time to pull a quick defensive maneuver. "Aw, Cas, you big flirt," Dean smirks and waggles his eyebrows, leaning back casually in the bench while popping a fry in his mouth.

The corners of Castiel's mouth turn up into that almost smile that he does as he gives a minute shake of his head.

Dean is just relieved to have broken the tension of the moment but is more than a little freaked out at his reaction to Cas. It's ridiculous! He shouldn't care what anyone thinks about him and one kind word from a guy sure shouldn't give him butterflies like a little girl.

After dinner they exchange information about the next day's ice time and head back to their individual rooms. Dean unlocks the door to his room and sees Sam sitting on his bed reading a book. When Sam asks where he has been he brushes him off and heads straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind him before leaning back against it with his eyes scrunched shut.

He's absolutely got to cool this thing with Cas. Damn, he wasn't supposed to like the guy so much. He never tells anyone about his crap childhood but tonight he found himself talking to the guy about everything - his dad dying and raising Sam and traveling from town to town. And if it weren't bad enough that he felt totally comfortable vomiting his deepest fucking feelings all over the skater he really can't get over how attracted he is to him.

Castiel's scruffy face, warm smile with those soft looking lips and most of all those deep eyes come to his mind. Dean rubs a hand through his hair and gets into the shower – a really cold one.

Author's Note:

There are a couple of hockey references in this chapter I may need to explain.

First, the name of the chapter is the neutral zone - that's the area in the center of the ice between the two blue lines.

Also mentioned are the real life players that Dean and Sam were compared to. Hockey is really a family sport. There have been lots of fathers, sons, brothers, and cousins that have played in the NHL together. Even greats like Wayne Gretsky and Mario Lemieux played in the NHL with their (lesser known) brothers.

Bobby Hull is one of the greatest hockey players ever and he and his brother Dennis played together for Chicago for eight seasons. The Richard brothers were from Canada and played for the Canadiens, winning five Stanley Cups together and nine more between them in other years! They are pretty much hockey royalty.

Thanks again for reading!