Dean hangs up from his conversation with Cas and starts to plan the rest of his day. He has a lot to do. He wants to visit Sam, take care of this mess with Bela, and get to the snowboarding competition with Castiel. Sam, of course, is his first priority.
His brother has now had several hours of sleep and he knows that he'll be waking up wanting some of his own belongings. He grabs a bag and begins stuffing it with Sam's clothes, toothbrush, cologne, and ridiculous hair products first. Next to go into the bag are Sam's cell phone and tablet computer. Satisfied that he has everything that he'll need, he heads out to the hospital, hopeful that Sam is awake and feeling better.
Thankfully, when he gets there, the pretty American nurse, Jess, is behind the desk so he doesn't have to struggle with any language barriers.
"Dean, nice to see you again," she greets him with a smile.
"Hey, Jess, how's Sam doing?"
"He's actually getting some tests right now. He'll be back in a few minutes. Do you want some coffee while you wait?" Jess comes around from behind the nurse's station and walks with him down the hallway to a coffee machine that produces two cups of horrible black sludge. Jess hands Dean a cup with an apologetic look on her face, "Sorry, coffee from a machine is pretty gross but it's all we have on this floor."
"Trust me, I've had worse," Dean tells her as they take a seat in some plastic chairs in the little waiting area.
"I'm glad you're here, Dean," Jess eyes him cautiously over the edge of her coffee cup, "I could actually use your help with something."
"Sure, what do you need?"
"It's Sam, actually. We really don't think he should be playing in tomorrow night's game. But he's, um, pretty insistent on not sitting it out."
"Sounds like him," Dean acknowledges, knowing that his brother is tough and absolutely refuses to ever give in.
"Well, I was kind of hoping maybe you could help convince him to take the game off."
Dean sighs, "Listen, is it really necessary? Hockey players… we play injured all the time."
"It's the neck injury, Dean. We really don't like to take risks with that. We can't force him to do anything, but we just don't want to expose him to more serious injuries."
"So what makes you think he'll listen to me if he won't even do what the doctors say?"
Jess shifts uncomfortably in her seat, "Um, I kind of get the feeling he is so insistent on playing because he doesn't want to let you down."
"Jesus!" Dean shakes his head at his idiotic brother. He can't imagine being anything but proud of his Sam. The kid is smart, kind, and one of the best hockey players he knows.
Jess just shrugs her shoulders and gives him an apologetic look. "He said he has to play because you need him. From the way he talks about you, it's obvious he looks up to you as both the captain of the team and as his brother. I just think that if you told him it's OK to sit this one out, he would actually listen. God knows he isn't going to listen to his doctors."
"Yeah… yeah, I'll talk to him. He's not going to like it so what can I tell him about the rest of the games?"
"Let's just take it one at a time, OK?"
Dean nods and falls into silence. He knows that Sam isn't going to like the idea of sitting out a game. The kid is stubborn as can be and one seriously dedicated player. He never misses a game or complains about injuries. He's a hockey player. He comes from a legacy of men who take a puck to the face, yank out a broken tooth or two, and jump back onto the ice the next shift. His heroes are players who refused x-rays on broken legs so that they wouldn't have to sit out games and scored winning goals with full on concussions. The phrase "hockey tough" means something to Sam and Dean and he knows it's probably going to be a fight to get Sam to agree to sit out.
Jess coughs and fidgets in her chair before finally asking, "So, is there anyone else we should call… about Sam? Like a relative or a girlfriend?"
Dean almost laughs. Well, she's about as subtle as a freight train. "You asking if he's single?"
"No! I… it's… for notification-" Jess flusters out.
"Jess," Dean interrupts trying to rescue her from her embarrassment, "he likes you."
Jess opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, at a loss for words, and Dean can't help but grin at this girl who might just be perfect for his little brother. She is beautiful and caring and smart and seems to really like Sam. Maybe this is just the distraction Sam needs to keep his mind off of his injuries.
"Books and dogs," he tells her matter-of-factly and watches in amusement at the confusion on her face.
"I… I'm sorry?"
"Books and dogs – the way to Sammy's heart. Kid's never met a dog he didn't want to adopt or a book he didn't want to read so if you want to talk to him, that's your starter."
Jess blinks at him a few times, "Are you seriously telling me how to woo your brother?"
Dean shrugs, "Just giving you a little assist. I can feed you the puck, you've got to take it to the net if you want to score."
Jess scoffs lightheartedly, "Really, Dean, with the hockey metaphor?"
Dean shrugs and gives her one of his most adorable smirks, "Just don't mention Marley and Me if you don't want to see a grown man cry."
Jess laughs and when she smiles Dean can see why Sam likes her so much. She really is lovely.
"Gotta warn you, though, guy's got shit taste in music and food so dates may be torture."
"Well, thanks for the heads up, Dean, I'll keep that in mind."
Sam gets back just a few minutes later and Dean spends the next half an hour talking him out of playing. It's pure torture. He wants Sam to play with everything he has and he knows how bad Sam wants it too. But in the end, Sam's wellbeing will always win out and Dean finally has to tell Sam that he'll give him an injury himself that will definitely keep him out of the game if he doesn't shut up and get some rest. To soften the blow he tells Sam that the next game is just a formality, a small hurtle to get over before the medal rounds, where he is really needed. So Sam's best contribution to the team is to rest and get better so he can make a difference in those later games.
Sam finally gives in and Dean prepares to leave for the afternoon, but not before turning around and tells his brother, "Dude, you want to get your mind off the game? Make a move on the cute nurse. Trust me, she's into you."
Sam gives him an epic bitch face, which Dean ignores and ducks out the door.
Not long after he leaves the hospital, Dean finds himself standing in front of two irate Brits with a hand full of reporters waiting to hear the latest Dean/Bela gossip on the other side of the door behind him.
"You can't be serious, Dean, I thought we had a deal?" Bela seethes as she looks up at Dean.
"Look, Bela, I'm sorry but this whole thing is fucked up. I never should have gone along with this little game to begin with. I'm not here to talk to reporters about my personal life. It's no one's business."
"Oh, you think that because you want to keep your extracurricular activities private they are going to respect that? I'm sorry, but if you don't tell them something, they will just make up their own version. Why not use their bloodlust for juicy gossip to further your own interests?"
"My interests here are hockey and my brother. I'll let my performance on the ice speak for itself. I don't need this tabloid bullshit."
"But what am I supposed to tell them? After the big show about us being in love and all of the questions I have answered the last few days, think of how it's going to look if we suddenly just change our minds."
"I don't give a shit how it looks and people change their minds all the time."
Crowley, who had been listening to Dean and Bela and getting angrier by the minute interrupts, "Listen, Dean, I've worked very hard for you, burying your indiscretions. It hasn't been easy making a clod like yourself presentable to the public."
Dean decides to let the insult go and be the bigger person.
"I'm grateful for what you did for me when I was a kid, I am. But that shit stops now. All decisions, and I mean all, go through me. You're not the puppet master here anymore. This Pinocchio's a real boy now."
"Listen, squirrel," Crowley positively growls back, "I didn't spend years cultivating the Dean Winchester image just so you could Thelma and Louise your career with the ice queen."
Dean takes two steps and stops directly in front of Crowley, towering over his manager, staring down at him just inches away. To his credit, Crowley barely flinches, just stares up at the intimidating man above him.
"Watch it," Dean growls, eyes narrowing on the little man. "This is about me, leave Cas out of it."
"Oh, he's a part of it at this point since you seem hell bent on throwing everything away for a romp with some prissy figure skating twink."
Dean reacts so quickly he surprises even himself. Before he knows it his fist is connecting with the side of Crowley's face and the smaller man reels, grabbing his cheek looking at Dean with a stunned expression. Bela looks between the two men cautiously backing towards the door.
"Damn that felt good!" Dean exclaims. "This is my life, my image, my decisions. I'm the one who did the work to get to where I am, not you. And I've made you a very rich man off my back so don't ever make a decision again without consulting me first. Don't forget you work for me!"
Crowley, tough little guy that he is, just straightens himself out, wiping the blood from his lip with a monogrammed handkerchief he pulls from his pocket. "No worries, mate. I won't be consulting your majesty on anything in the future because you will be finding yourself a new manager. Oh, and Dean, you are going to sorry about your actions here today. Mark my words."
With that, Crowley strides past Dean and opens the door, gesturing for Bela to leave as well. The two exit the room leaving Dean standing alone with nothing but an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Yeah, maybe he had gone too far punching Crowley like that but the douchebag was asking for it. He didn't really care what Crowley said about him but he was not going to let him drag Cas down.
Castiel sits in a little coffee shop, soaking in the strong black liquid and nursing one heck of a hangover as he reflects on his strange day.
He had woken this morning to the ache of a pounding head and that horrible fog of a bad hangover. He stayed in bed trying to remember the night before. He remembered Dean coming over upset about Sam and he recalled digging out the bottle of vodka to share with his friend. After that the memories got a little fuzzy. Bits and pieces of their conversation came back to him. He had mostly listened as Dean told him about his worry over Sam – both now and pretty much for his entire life.
Last night his respect for Dean had grown as he described a childhood taken away from him by the responsibilities of caring for a younger brother. Although Dean minimized the importance of the sacrifices he made, Castiel knew better. He could see the selfless and caring person that Dean was, no matter how much he tried to downplay it.
What he didn't remember was how the night ended. The last thing he remembered, he and Dean were sitting on his bed with about half a bottle of vodka downed between them. He didn't even remember going to sleep last night. When did Dean leave and why? He hoped it wasn't because of Sam's condition. And that thought brought a whole new set of worries over Sam's health.
Hoping that Dean thought to text him to let him know if his brother was alright, Castiel rolled over and picked up his phone, noticing that it was already the afternoon. Just then the phone buzzed and nearly gave him a heart attack from the surprise and the spike of pain that blasted through his hung-over head. He saw Dean's caller ID and answered immediately, eager to find out if he and Sam are both alright.
The conversation with Dean was brief and strange. Cas asked about Sam immediately and was relieved to hear that the young hockey player was awake and doing fairly well. But then Dean told him that there were news reports about the two of them together. Castiel's first thought was of anger. How dare some reporter publish assumptions about Dean's private life and his sexuality? It's infuriating and Castiel knows from personal experience that rumors like this, true or not, are inexcusable and can be damaging both personally and professionally. He was ready to tell Dean just that but Dean's concern was of Anna.
Castiel's poor fuzzy head didn't handle the strange inquiry well. He fully expected Dean to be panicking about being accused of being gay but instead he was worried about Anna? Surprised and honestly a bit disappointed that Anna was on his mind, Castiel grumbled that she had moved on and told Dean that if he was uncomfortable because of Anna, he would understand. Then much to his astonishment, Dean completely shifted gears and asked him to go see a snowboarding competition and told him that Anna being his sister wasn't a concern.
Castiel hung up the phone and wondered what just happened. That had to be one of the strangest conversations he has had. First Dean was concerned about what Anna would think and then told him that Anna wasn't an issue? And he had expected Dean to be furious about the idea of being publicly accused of being with a man and worried about how this would affect his relationship with Bela, but he seemed more concerned over Castiel and Anna than himself. His head was spinning and he wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol or the perplexing hockey player.
One very long hot shower later, Castiel now finds himself sitting in a little café with a large mug of black coffee and a delicious looking pastry in front of him. The coffee is delicious as it warms, comforts, and wakens him. And he can feel his hangover ebbing as his mind slowly clears. Finally, he can relax.
The more he thinks about it, the better he feels. Sure, one silly reporter made some false accusations, but Dean didn't seem bothered by it and Bela must not be either if she doesn't mind the friends going to the snowboarding competition together. He is feeling relief about Anna as well. He had been concerned that Dean would be uncomfortable being around him knowing he had once had a fling with his sister but Dean said that wasn't a problem for him at all.
That is good news indeed. He can continue to be friends with the hockey player without it being a concern for either his sister or Dean's girlfriend. Sure, he had been disappointed when he found out about Bela, but really, Dean was just a fantasy to begin with. Aside from that one misreading of Dean's intent to kiss him, which he still chides himself for being so silly about, he has always been certain that Dean was strictly into women. Dean has Bela and she is beautiful and talented and classy, a good match really, and Castiel is happy for his friend.
It is then that the voice on the café's television catches his attention. Dean's voice causes him to vibrate under his skin like a bell struck by a hammer. Dean is standing alone and he looks terribly uncomfortable with several microphones shoved in his face asking him about Bela. He manages a feigned smile and tells everyone that he appreciates their interest but he and Bela aren't a couple any more but he wishes her the best at these Olympics. When the reporters continue to press him with questions about why they broke up and what is next for the athlete, he politely tells them that he prefers to keep his private life just that, private.
Castiel doesn't know what to feel. He is at first shocked and feels guilty. What if Dean's breakup was his fault? What if it was because of the gossipy article someone wrote about him and Dean? And another small part of him (that he really tries hard to ignore) feels a glimmer of hope. What if Balthazar was right about Dean? What if Dean really was going to kiss him the other night? Castiel groans at his own confused mind and jumbled up feelings and wonders how he is going to get through this evening with Dean.
"Oh hell no!" Dean exclaims to the incredulous look on Castiel's face.
"I assure you, Dean, it's perfectly safe."
"What the fuck?! The schedule said this is where the snowboarding competition is being held."
"Yes, this is where you show up, but the actual half-pipe is half way up the mountain. There's no other way to get there, I'm afraid."
Dean looks up at the ski lift that disappears into the dark of the night as it climbs higher and higher up the mountainside. The little benches are held up by one cable and there isn't even anything holding you on the bench. As much as he hates flying, at least there he can get drunk, buckle in, and sleep through the ordeal. This, this is different. Dangling 40 feet above the mountainside from nothing but a cable on a small metal bench just feels like tempting fate.
"What if we just watch the event on TV and tell her we showed up?" Dean raises his eyebrows at Castiel hopefully.
Cas just tilts his head and gives Dean one of the stupid knowing looks of his. "Do you really want to do that, Dean?"
Dean looks at the sincerity on Cas' face and shit, he's going to give in and get on the stupid disaster movie waiting to happen. Fuck! There's not even time to get drunk first.
"Son of a bitch," he grumbles and tries to gather up what dignity he can as he puts his hand out to Cas to hand over the ticket to his doom.
Cas, the bastard, does one of those little half smiles of his and Dean can't figure out if he loves or hates that look. Dean just shakes his head and follows his friend to the line of people waiting to get onto the ski lift. He and Cas have both dressed in their own clothes tonight to blend into the crowd rather than stand out in their official country-issued attire. It feels a bit like armor as he shoves his hands into the comforting pockets of his olive green jacket over his well-worn soft blue flannel and comfortable old jeans.
Cas, for his part, looks freaking fantastic (but what else is new). He's wearing dark blue jeans that hug every part of his body just right with a navy blue v-neck sweater under a really sexy wool pea coat. He has a grey scarf slung around his neck and black gloves covering the long fingers Dean loves to admire.
They stand in the line, side by side, moving slowly closer to the ski lift and Dean's eyes keep drifting to Cas. Jesus, it's like being pulled by a magnet. Every time he looks away, glances around the crowd, or up at the ominous cable cars disappearing up the mountainside, before long his gaze has drifted back to Cas without even realizing it. Each time he takes in another detail; the little crinkles at the corners of Cas' eyes and the way they angle down on the outsides giving him a slightly melancholy look, the way his curious blue eyes scan the crowd and catch the light every once in a while, reflecting a color so deep Dean thinks he could stare at it all day, his full pink lips surrounded by dark stubble over a strong jaw.
It's a nice past time and one that helps to take his mind off of the idea of getting on the ski lift. A few fans recognize him or Cas and they graciously give autographs and photos, which is another temporary distraction. Unfortunately, the closer they get to the lift the more agitated Dean becomes. He thinks he is holding it in pretty well, standing stock still, posture rigid and eyes fixed anywhere but the mountain.
Cas, though, obviously isn't fooled as he tilts his head in front of Dean to catch his eyes, "Dean, are you alright?"
"Yeah, man, just talking myself out of a panic attack. I fucking hate heights."
"I understand. We don't have to do this. Do you want to leave?"
"Naw, I can do this. Just… distract me," Dean says, turning away from the mountain to face Castiel. "Talk to me, Cas."
Castiel thinks for a moment and begins, "Did I ever tell you about my first regional competition? I was just a kid and I was scared to death. Everything went wrong. I was wearing this all white costume and I was so nervous I threw up my red slushie and let's just say it didn't all make it into the trash. So my costume was a mess. Then, the lace on my skate broke and all my coach could dig up for a spare was some pink sparkly thing he borrowed from another skater. Sadly, it matched my slushie stains."
That at least gets a chuckle out of Dean and Castiel puts out his hand for Dean's ticket which he hands over so Cas can give both tickets to the attendant who leads them to the spot where they will stand to board the lift.
"So then, I'm out on the ice ready to start my program and the music starts at the wrong place. I'm thoroughly confused and I start crying right there on the ice. My father stomps out, waving for the music to stop and yells at the judges in Russian like a mad man."
Castiel laughs at the memory and the sound relaxes Dean enough that he actually doesn't freak out when the bench bumps the back of their legs and they jump onto the swaying seat and are lifted into the air.
"When I finally did get started to the correct music, I fell on every one of my first three jumps, spraining my wrist on the final fall. Everyone said I was the worst skater ever and shouldn't have even made it to the regionals and that I should just stop skating."
"Shit, Cas, that's a horrible story."
"Maybe," Cas smirks at him, "but it got you on the lift." He raises his eyebrows as the realization hits Dean that they are getting further and further off the ground.
Dean makes the mistake of looking down and fuck, the lift is taking them up in the air and he can feel it bobbing slightly on the wire. He closes his eyes and starts humming. This calls for Metallica. It helps a little, probably not as much as the calming hand that he feels Cas put on his shoulder, though.
"You're doing great, Dean," Castiel reassures him.
Dean nods but doesn't open his eyes. He is just moving on from humming Some Kind of Monster to Nothing Else Matters when a gust of wind rocks the little seat and that's it, he can feel his heart beating faster and his breathing getting shallow. God dammit, he hates his stupid phobia. How can he not have the slightest fear of a 300 pound goon in razor sharp skates yielding wooden stick and barreling down on him but a stupid ski lift turns him into a twitchy little girl?
And then he does it. He makes the ultimate mistake and opens his eyes only to realize now they have got to be forty feet up with nothing but trees below them. His humming turns to a mumbled litany of curse words as his hands grip the arm rest and bench so hard he can feel the muscles straining all the way up his arms. He vaguely can hear Cas saying something to him but the panic is making the only thing he can hear right now the pounding of his own heart.
Then suddenly he feels two hands on the sides of his face and his head abruptly turned to the side. He catches just the slightest glimpse of Cas' eyes blazing with determination and concern, before Cas pulls him closer and brings their lips together. The shock of the kiss freezes him in place until he feels Cas tilt his head a little and move his mouth, urging all of Dean's attention to those lips.
And just when Dean is about to catch on and become an active participant in the kiss the lips are gone, leaving only the cold wind against his now wet mouth. Castiel breaks the kiss, pulling back, hands still lingering on Dean's face for a moment before they fly to his own mouth and his eyes go wide.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas breathes out. "I… I panicked. You were freaking out and I didn't know what to do."
"Cas," Dean whispers and surges toward the smaller man grabbing the back of his neck and pulling their mouths back together.
Castiel makes a little squeak of surprise before reaching up to cup the side of Dean's face with his gloved hand. The kiss is perfect. It starts out soft and sweet and Dean gently pulls Cas' bottom lip between his own. The prickles of Cas' scruff against his mouth are like little pricks of lightning, igniting the fire inside of him. It's been years since he has kissed a man and the feeling is so new and different that he has to keep himself from groaning out loud at the rush of blood that travels south.
Cas' tongue licks experimentally at Dean's lips and Dean immediately gets on board with that, opening for Cas and letting his mouth be explored and tasted. God, Cas feels so good. And it's not just the physical feeling of the kiss. There is something about Cas, some connection that he can't even explain. He has been drawn to the figure skater since the first moment he was captured in those blue eyes. He has been falling steadily into Cas' gravity since then and there is no escaping the draw now. He doesn't even understand it. Why Cas? Sure, the man is gorgeous but it's so much more than that. He doesn't think he could have stayed away from Cas if he had tried. He is hypnotized by his voice, mesmerized by his eyes, calmed by his touch, and just about now immensely turned on by the way Cas' tongue just swiped across the inside of his upper lip. And Dean shivers, actually shivers with the intensity.
Dean pulls back, breaks the kiss but not the contact, resting his forehead against Cas' still holding onto the back of his neck. The two men breathe heavily, their hot breath coming out in clouds of white in the icy cold night air. Cas looks at Dean and his eyes ask a thousand questions. There is confusion and fear and cautious hope and something in Dean wants to kiss away everything until there is nothing left but surety.
"Dean," Cas breaths out and his eyes fall shut as he nuzzles his cold nose into Dean's warm flushed cheek.
"Jesus, Cas, what do you do to me?" Dean whispers as his lips caress Cas' cheek.
"Anything you want," Cas purrs seductively before pulling Dean's earlobe between his lips.
Dean pulls back in surprise, making eye contact with Cas, who is looking at him with fuck-me eyes and a slightly upturned grin. And Dean dives in for another kiss, a deeper, exploring kiss that is full of heat and promise. They make out like a couple of horny teenagers, breath getting heavier and tongues reaching for that first taste of each other. Dean moves his kisses across Cas' jaw until he can suck gently at the soft spot just under his ear.
"Cas, how bad do you want to see the snowboarding?"
Cas tilts his head, giving the hockey player better access to his neck, "Not nearly as much as I want to see you naked."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Dean groans. Cas' voice should have a mature audiences only rating because it might be the hottest thing Dean's ever heard whispering shit like that into the cold night air.
Dean still has one hand on Cas' neck, stroking his cheek with his thumb while his tongue licks a path from his neck to his jaw. His other hand is still gripping firmly onto the edge of the seat. Yeah, making out with Cas may be a great distraction, but he's still dangling forty feet in the fucking air by a little cable. Cas, though, is definitely more adventurous. He has one hand gripping Dean's shoulder and the other winding its way inside of Dean's coat. And damn those gloves, Dean wants skin on skin now.
But just as Dean is making his way back to Cas' sweet mouth, Cas pushes him away, still holding tight to his shoulder and side and Dean only just manages to not whimper.
"We're… almost to the top," Cas breathes out and looks to the right where just a few ski lifts in front of them people are disembarking.
"Wanna stay on?" Dean asks and Cas nods enthusiastically, meeting his eyes, communicating exactly what he wants to do.
They each sit back in their seats, leaving a respectable amount of space between them, fidgeting and straightening clothes and hair as they approach the well-lit area at the top of the lift. Dean can't get the stupid grin off his face and he's pretty sure everyone around is going to be able to take one glance at him and read that he spent most of the ride up here with his tongue in another dude's mouth.
But thankfully, the ski lift operator just directs them to get off but Dean responds with, "No, we have to head back," and the man shrugs and lets go of their bench as they round the top of the apparatus and start their journey back down.
And this time, Dean actually looks forward to the ride high over the mountainside in the dark with Cas. It definitely turns out to be the most fun he has ever had off the ground.
Author's Note: Well, readers, I know… another delayed chapter. My life is insane lately. But I'm nearing the end of the school year and that means more time to write. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a pretty big turning point for our boys.
A little bit of hockey information for this chapter:
The title is Gordie Howe Hat Trick – A hat trick in hockey is when the same player scores three goals in one game. It's a pretty rare feat. A variation of that is the Gordie Howe hat trick. Howe is one of the greatest hockey players ever, so much so that he is actually known as Mr. Hockey. He was good at scoring and fighting and so the Gordie Howe hat trick was named after him. It's when one player has an assist, a fight, and scores a goal all in one game. Dean earned himself an off ice Gordie How hat trick for assisting Sam, fighting with Crowley, and scoring with Cas.
This chapter that talks about "hockey tough." This is a saying that is commonly used around hockey because the players are so unbelievably bad-ass. The players I referred to in this chapter are Bobby Baun who famously played two Stanley Cup games on a badly broken ankle but refused x-rays because he knew how bad it was but wanted to play anyway. Also Maurice Richard (who I talked about in a previous chapter) scored what some people say was the greatest goal in the history of hockey. In the days before helmets he was knocked out, bloody and concussed but he got stitched up came back into the game with blood still dripping down his face to score the game winning goal. When basketball and baseball players take weeks off because of a strain, hockey players tough it out.