Being a hunting tutor wasn't something new for Dean. He'd done it for Sam, Kevin, Charlie and the occasional newbie hunter who had the gall to work with the oldest Winchester brother. Steve was a good student; attentive, wasn't a dick, always listened to suggestion, asked questions when he didn't understand something. His gun skills were good, but practice never hurt. Knives were not a strong suit, but they'd work on it. The biggest thing to focus on was research and information, but Steve proved to have a great memory and passed any pop quiz Dean threw at him. His time in the military probably helped him out quite a bit, so Dean let his hand-to-hand be for the time being. Just like his dad had done for him Dean still made steve run laps and the like, and truthfully it was one of the best decisions he had ever made.

If Steve's plain white shirt was any tighter Dean would've asked if he'd painted it on. As his tutor, it was his job to make sure he didn't trip and fall when running. He also knew Steve had asthma when he was younger, and even though it wasn't showing now there was always a possibility even if it seemed surreal for a guy who could run so fast and still do more. His run was unique, almost like a dancer's run. Dean's eyes wandered a bit, and Steve either didn't notice or didn't care; Dean hoped for the latter. An out of breath sweaty Steve was a sight Dean didn't mind in the slightest.

Dean yelled, "Keep going, Rogers! A hellhound would've chewed your ass by now if you slack off! That reminds me: Tell me about hellhounds. How do you kill a hellhound?"

Steve shouted back as he picked up the pace, "Hellhound's are hell's bitches; as you put it. They collect the souls of people who've made demon deals commanded by the demons. They're hard to kill, but they can be killed with a demon killing blade or an angel's blade. They're like bloodhounds and once they have a scent they never lose it."

"10 point to Rogers. Now what did I tell you not to do no matter what?"

"Never make a demon deal."

Dean demanded, "I didn't hear that! Repeat!"

Steve panted as he sprinted and spoke, "Never make a demon deal! Never sell my soul no matter what!"

"Good job! Take a breather."

Instead of flopping down on the ground like Dean would've done, Steve slowed to a jog, passed Dean one more time, before slowing to a walk and getting a gatorade out of the cooler. Steve stretched his arms up until his shoulders popped; Hello! hip bones. Dean's attention was called away from his phone when his phone started going off playing Bad Company. He pressed call and put it to his ear, "What do you want, Garth?"

Garth said, "Well hello to you, Dean. I just wanted to see if you were still in Iowa."

Dean asked, "How'd you know I was in Iowa."

"Sam told me you went up there to help out your snuggle bunny man candy."

Dean growled, "Garth!"

"What you don't like that name? What about sexy stud muffin?"

"Garth." Dean warned, "I will shove my foot so far up your ass you won't have dental record anymore, just my footprint, if you use any of those god awful names ever again. Now why did you want to know if I was in Iowa?"

"There's a case in Minnesota. You know that one old hunter Craig Paxton? The one who settled down with his wife and two kids? He's missing. His wife called me frantically saying Craig was looking into some missing person's in town and some hikers had found a body that looked like it was attacked by a wild animal. Since your close I was wondering if you'd be able to go check it out since your boo's a trainee hunter it would be good to get him out there,"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, "Craig was a damn good hunter. Yeah, I'll go check it out. And you say that word again I'll break your jaw. Later, Garth."

Dean pressed end before Garth could even open his mouth. Steve asked, "Something wrong?"

Dean swiped Steve's gatorade and took a sip, "That depends. You got any plans?"

Steve shrugged, "Well, I planned to take a shower, I really should find a laundromat because I need to wash my clothes, I kind of want a bagel. Did Garth call about a case?"

"Yeah, take a quick shower and I'll get some bagels. You can wash your clothes later just throw them in the trunk and use some of mine. Body was found in Minnesota, looks like our kind of thing, and an older hunter's gone missing so we need to hit the road. I mean-uh if you want to."
Steve smiled, "Of course, I'm going with you, Dean. I think I'll just leave my bike somewhere safe and ride with you north if that's okay."

"I'd be okay if you ride me-I mean ride with me! Yeah, sure. Come on, let's get moving."

Steve smiled and walked to the Impala, and Dean straggled behind considering the pros and cons of banging his head against his car. He had actually told Steve he could ride him out loud. Steve didn't seem to think anything of it other than a freudian slip; Hell, he might not know the connotation anyway being sheltered and all. Good god, he'd actually let those words come out of his mouth. Stupid!

Steve asked, "Hey, can I drive?"

"Not on your life, pal! I drive baby; that's just how it goes. I barely, ever, let Sammy drive her. She's a classy lady and it treated as such. Unless I'm dying or dead, I drive baby" Dean said.

Steve grinned, "Cool down, Dean, I was just raggin' on ya. You promised bagels."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah bagels, I know."

Rather than go to separate motels or separate rooms, they just got a room with two beds since Dean needed to train his student in all hunting ways no matter the time; no better topic than pagan gods at dinner. Dean knew Steve probably had nightmares, and Steve knew Dean did, but Dean counted it as a win that he hadn't woken Steve up when he'd had a nightmare. Unlike anyone else he'd shared a room with that wasn't his brother, Steve didn't mind when Dean didn't sleep until really late. did the salt lines, put a hex bag under his bed, and checked the locks numerous times. Sure, he wasn't in bed with Steve, but he'd grown to like and be a bit more comfortable in Steve's company.

Steve hadn't even run for the hills when he learned the hard way Dean kept a knife under his pillow.

So, Steve showered in the same motel room as Dean after they'd eaten most of the bagels and Dean tried his hardest to focus on the telenovelas rather than the thought Steve was only a few feet away from him, naked, only separated by a wall. He decided to call Sam because Sam was many things and one of the biggest things was a fucking boner kill; the kid had seen Dean in compromising situations far too many times.

"Sammy, I'm headin' up north with Steve for a hunt. Will you, Charlie, and Kevin be okay?"

Sam asked, "Garth asked you about the case in Minnesota and Craig?"

"Yeah." Dean asked, "How'd you know?"

"He called me first. I told him you were closer when you just had to go save your buddy. Charlie, Kevin, Cas and I are doing pilates, we've eaten actual meals, and we've all brushed out teeth before bed; we're not three, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Of course. you'd get them all to do pilates. Wait, Cas is there?"

Sam said, "Yeah, he showed up like an hour ago. He asked where you were and I told him you were meeting up with a buddy, and he wasn't busy with anything, so Cas is just hanging out with us. Do you want me to send him your way? He could help with the case."

Dean hissed into the phone, "Dude, Steve is still getting used to the whole hunting thing and he's taking I pretty well. I'm not sure how an angel of the lord just popping up will go. I don't want to freak him out."

Sam began, "What better way to get to know the guy before actually meeting him; which I think you should've let me done along time ago, but still, is to send in Cas and-"

"Hello, Dean."
Dean covered his mouth before he could shout. He glared at Castiel, "Damn it, Cas. Don't do that."

Castiel glared back, "I will not 'freak out' your friend. I simply wanted to meet with him."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, "You can meet him when Sam gets to meet him."

" I can fly him and you to your destination."

"No way. We're driving Baby."

"I-uh-I must see if he is a demon or not."

Dean crossed his arms, "Dude, even you know that was a lame ass excuse. I know he's not a demon. Now go."

Castiel shook his head, "I shall not."

"Shall."

"No."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, "Please will you get the fuck out of here?"

Castiel replied, "Adding please to 'get the fuck out of here' does not make it any better."

Their argument was interrupted when the bathroom door opened. Steve exclaimed, "Oh, who's this?"

Dean's ability to speak English failed him seeing Steve with his blonde hair slightly dark from being damp. Wearing his worn-in jeans and in his Led Zeppelin t-shirt; it was one of Dean's favorite shirts, but he was all for Steve keeping it. The dark colored jeans were a little looser in the waist, but man did they hug his legs and ass nicely. Dean knew Steve had broader shoulders than him. He also knew he had a plaid shirt of Sam's in his duffle, and maybe even a t-shirt or two, Sammy had broader shoulder and chest than Dean. Steve didn't need to know about the shirt. He didn't need to know about bigger shirts ever.

Castiel tilted his head, "You're wearing Dean's clothes."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, Dean let me borrow them since I need to wash mine." He stuck out his hand for Castiel to shake, "I'm Steve Rogers, nice to meet you."

Castiel stared at Steve's hand until he awkwardly put it down.

The little shit knew manners and the like. He'd been on Earth long enough to pick up on some things. He was probably being an ass on Sam's orders to see how Steve would react; the bitch, "I am Castiel, and I am a friend of Dean's. You are aware of the existence of monsters, creatures of hell, and the like are you not?"

"Uh, yeah I know. Are you coming with us to Minnesota?"

Castiel was looking at Steve like he was observing a fish in a bowl, and Dean could tell it was making Steve squirm. Castiel probably was trying to make him uncomfortable. It didn't help rather than trying to be friendly Castiel was pulling the whole 'I'm a scary ass motherfucking angel' spiel, "No, I am simply here to investigate. I will take my leave soon. Since you are aware of the existence of the supernatural I feel I should tell you I-"

Dean warned, "Cas, don't you dare!"

"I am an angel and Dean is my best friend. We are family. Should you do harm to him to Dean not even God himself could save you from my wrath. Remember that well, Steve Rogers."

Castiel flew off without another word.

Dean wasn't sure how to make things better since Castiel had just threatened Steve. Even if Steve's surprised face was just too cute. Focus, Dean!

"So-that man was an angel? He's your best friend? That man just flew off in the blink of an eye because he's an angel. A real live honest to god angel."

Dean cracked a smile, "I think we've covered the angel part. Yeah, that's Castiel: Angel of the Lord. He may look like a holy tax accountant, but his true form would like burn out your eyeballs and stuff. Cas is one of the good ones. He's fought by me and Sam for a long time now. Stay around me long enough and you just might meet more angels. I know he was being a bit of a dick, usually he's just a weird dorky little guy, but I think he was doing that on purpose."

Steve fingered the hem of his shirt, "I would never hurt you, Dean. I'll do my best to make sure you're safe on hunts when I'm with you, but I would never harm you, and not just because Castiel warned me not to do so."
Dean put his hand on Steve's arm, "Steve, Sam and Cas are just protective little asshats. Hell, I'm the same way with them. You're the rookie here. I'm supposed to make sure you're safe. I know you wouldn't hurt me; not on purpose."

"Why?"

Dean smiled, "You're too nice. We've got a long drive to Ponsford so do you got everything?"

Steve pouted, "I'm not that nice. I can be mean somethings."

Dean patted Steve's arm before grabbing his duffle, "You can, but you feel guilty about it. That's what counts."

Dean turned only for a moment to make sure he had everything. When he turned back around his say something to Steve he found him with his shirt pulled up slightly. Steve's abs, cute belly button, and light dusting of hair leading southward was all on display. Dean absentmindedly licked lips lips glad Steve's vision was obscured by the shirt, "Is this supposed to be a punishment for calling you nice because let me tell ya it isn't working."

Steve huffed as he struggled, but he eventually got the shirt back down, "I was trying to take it off so I could maybe throw it down, but then I had second thoughts and then I was having trouble and it got stuck around my upper arms and shoulders."

Dean said, "You're just bad to the bone, Steve, you hardcore motherfucker. I myself feel severely punished and feel free do so any other time."

Steve furrowed his brow, "I don't understand. I didn't do anything."

Dean laughed, "Come on, let's hit the road."

Steve crossed his arms and tried to figure out what Dean had meant, "I still don't get it."

Dean walked out the door still laughing, "Nothing, Steve, nothing."

"Dean, what's so funny? Dean!"

Dean pulled the Impala up to a blue house with a white porch. The forest stretched out for miles and miles behind the house and around them. They had to take too many backroads to count after getting off the highway to find the house. A perk of working with people who knew about all the nasties in the dark was not having to use any disguises or impersonate any law enforcement. They didn't even have to deal with the real local fuzz.

Steve looked around as he got out of the car, "It's pretty isolated out here isn't it?"

Dean shrugged, "Most hunters like privacy, at least the ones I know. I know there's some city rat hunters who deal with urban stuff, but all the ones I know of mostly deal with backwoods fuglys. No unwanted eyes and ears out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, so no one to think their neighbours are superstitious freaks. Even though we kind of are."

"It's just a little eerie I guess."

"I've seen monsters in suburbia too."

Steve said, "Well that isn't comforting."

"Wasn't supposed to be."

Dean and Steve walked up the dusty dirt driveway. A woman slowly opened the screen door, upon seeing them she rushed out and threw her arms around Dean, "Thank God, you're here."

A little boy no older than three peered out the door, "Mommy?"

She let Dean go and said to the boy, "Stay inside, Sweetie. Come on, we should do inside. It's been so long since I've seen you, Dean." She turned to Steve, but furrowed her brow, "I thought your brother was a brunette-and taller."

Steve stuck out his hand, "I'm Steve Rogers. I'm a friend of Dean's, Ma'am."

The woman shook his hand gently, "Please call me Georgia. Let's take this conversation inside."

When they were inside the house the little boy hid behind his mother. The boy asked, "Mommy, are they gonna get Daddy and Susie?"

Dean asked, "Wait, isn't Susan your little girl?"

Georgia pulled her little boy closer to her, "Susan's fourteen now. It was pretty late and she went outside to look for the dog. I tried looking for her, but she was gone. Craig went looking into the woods after the hikers body turned up and one of the local police insisted on going with him. Now they're all gone."

The little boy piped up, "The tall man with the long arms took Susie. I saw it! It ran super fast."

Dean asked, "Do you mind if I check out the backyard?"

Georgia shook her head, "No, just do be careful."

Dean lead Steve out the back door while Georgia kept the boy from running out too, "Oh no, Marco, what did I say about going outside right now?"

"I wanna help!"

Steve ruffled the boy's hair and smiled, "You've been a lot of help, buddy. Listen to your Mama."

The boy pouted but listened to Steve, "Okay."

Dean had to try his hardest to keep the smile that was wanting to form off his face. He was doing a very serious investigation and wouldn't be offput by Steve being adorable with little kids.

Steve asked, "Dean, do you have any idea of what could've taken Mr. Paxton and his daughter?"

Dean sighed, "This far north in these woods I have an idea. I just hope I'm not right. Check around for blood, possibly fur of any kind, claw scratches or teeth marks on anything. It'll get dark soon so we need to work fast if it is what I think it is. Don't go too far into the woods."

Dean's suspicions were proven when he found the deep claw markings on the trees. He ordered, "Steve, we need to get some stuff out of the car. I need to draw some protection symbols around the house. What kind of symbols? What're we dealing with?"

Dean dragged Steve around the house to the Impala. He tossed some things to Steve just in case they needed to protect themselves during the night. Steve turned it over in his hands,"What's this?"

"I'll tell you when we get inside. After that I'll put the Anasazi symbols around the house." Dean replied.

Georgia met then when they romped into her living room carrying their supplies. Marco asked excitedly, "Is that a bow and arrow?"

Dean asked, "Marco, buddy, why don't you go up to your room? We've got some stuff to talk about with your mom that really isn't for little kids."

Marco whined, "Mommy!"

Georgia said sternly, "Marco, this is important. Go play now. You know how Daddy feels about you even seeing stuff like that."

Marco sulked, but went upstairs anyway. Dean didn't talk until he heard the bedroom door close, "I'm pretty damn sure there's a Wendigo out there. Wendigos are believed to mostly be found in places like the northern woods of Minnesota and in the north central regions of Canada . Kenora, Ontario, Canada is said to be the Wendigo Capital of the World by many. I'll put some protection symbols around the house; they ward off Wendigos. It probably trapped your husband and daughter. They're probably alive especially if they haven't been gone too long. This things damn good at stealth and a near perfect hunter; especially at night. It'll be dark soon enough, so it wouldn't be a good idea to run out there right now, but I'll put the symbols up now and then I'll go out in the morning."

Georgia held her hands tightly in her lap, but remained composed, "My husband never talked too much about these kind of things, but I know what a wendigo is. What if that thing-what if it eats-?"

Dean push his hand on Georgia's knee, "If the police shot at it they were probably taken out. Craig should know better than to try and piss it off."

Georgia nodded, "Well, it would probably be better than for you two to stay here since their aren't really motels too close by. There's a guest room upstairs. I'll check on Marco and get some fresh linens."

Dean had hoped Steve would stay in the house, but of course he followed him right outside and watched as Dean painted the symbols around the house. He could follow orders well enough in that he didn't say one word as they were outside, and only spoke as soon as the front door was locked, "Dean, aren't wendigo's the things that used to be human once, but committed cannibalism and that turned them into what they are now?"

"10 points to Rogers." Dean said, "Also, that thing you were asking about was a flamethrower. I made it myself. Only way to kill it is with fire, but things like those arrows can injure it. I'll take care of it tomorrow. Check the map for any caves or mine shafts close by. You'll stay here with Georgia and Marco."

Steve exclaimed, "Like hell I will. You're not going out there without anyone to watch your back. I remember all that stuff about wendigos: superhuman strength, superhuman speed, human voice imitation."

Dean stated, "A wendigo hunt is not a case for a newb."

Steve argued, "Doesn't seem like the kind of case one would take on alone either."

"Steve." Dean groaned.

Steve huffed, "Dean."

Dean sighed, "Is there anyway I can convince you to not go with me tomorrow?"

Steve smirked, "Not a chance."

Georgia turned out to be an amazing cook, and Steve certainly loved her pot roast, but Dean's appetite just wasn't in it. Newbie hunters did not go in wendigo hunts. Newbie hunters went on salt and burns, vampires, werewolves, maybe even a zombie, but not a wendigo. Sure, it was a bit arrogant of him to think taking on a wendigo alone would be any better, but the last thing he wanted was for Steve to end up as Wendigo chow. It didn't help Steve was a master at pointing out reasons why a second man would be more useful than going alone, and bringing Craig and Susan into it only cemented his argument.

Georgia saw them to the guest room after Marco fell asleep, "I'll be in the room down the hall if you need anything."

Steve said, "I'm sure we can manage. Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Paxton."

Dean tossed one of the pillows and throw blanket on the floor. If he was gonna take Steve on his first wendigo hunt the least he could do was give the poor sap the bed. Dean had left his flask in the car, not wanting Steve to think he was an alcoholic, but as he laid on the floor he wished he had brought it. Not getting enough sleep would cost him on the hunt, and his back certainly wouldn't be forgiving him for sleeping on the floor.

Steve chucked his own pillow at Dean, "I can hear you tossing and turning down there. The bed's big enough for the two of us. I've shared a bed before in the army. You're not going to get any sleep on the floor."

Dean grabbed the pillows and blankets clammered up onto the bed, "You better not kick. I used to end up with bruises when the motel room didn't have a cot and dad would get a bed of his own I'd end up with Sammy. If you snore you're going to the floor."

Steve took back his pillow and got comfortable on his back, "I used to snore when my asthma was bad, but I haven't had any complaints in a long time.'

Dean turned onto his stomach and grumbled into his pillow, "You're probably a bed hog too."

Steve chuckled as turned to the other side, "Goodnight, Dean."

Dean muttered,"You're probably a fucking cuddle bug too."

Steve asked, "What did you just call me?"

"Uh, goodnight, Steve."

"Dean I asked you a question."

Dean shushed him,"Shh, Steve, people are sleeping."

Georgia was kind enough to put on a pot of coffee only a bit before the sun rose and after removing his leg from on top of Steve as slow as Dean could he went downstairs and chugged three mugs. He didn't really even notice Steve come down the stairs, "Put on some pants, eat something, do some jumping jacks, I'll get the gear ready."

Dean rubbed the sleep out his eyes with his fist, "You're the one wearing pajama pants not me. Why should I do jumping jacks?"

Steve replied, "Gets your blood pumping. It'll help you wake up faster. There's some protein bars in my bag so grab one and eat it for energy."

Dean waved his hands in the air as pretend jumping jacks.

"Real jumping jacks, Dean."

"Alright!"

The sun was nearly peaking over the horizon as they set out into the forests with a backpack filled with extra flares and a first aid kit, and other necessary supplies. Dean had the bow and quiver on his back and his flamethrower in his hands. They didn't talk much, or at all really, but Steve understood the seriousness of the situation, and Dean had to keep all his senses focused in case the wendigo showed up. Purgatory had been a pain in the ass, but it had helped in some training departments. It was pure, primal, instinctive; it helped his ears become more attuned with his environment, his nose better, his eyes sharper. He hadn't told Sam that because he just knew he'd be a geek about it, but other hunters had commented about it. Calling him more of a predator than a human hunter.

Sam eventually caught up like he always did. He put more power and speed in his fighting style to keep up with the naturality Dean had with it. His steps quieter when he walked, his senses sharper; kid always was a quick learner.

The wendigo was still a damn good tracker, and it found them soon enough.

Sam always was more handly with long range stuff, and his arm muscles were better for archery, but Dean was no slouch. A couple arrows to the legs slowed the bitch down. Steve took the flamethrower and roasted the motherfucker when it's claws dug into his leg. Being such a smooth man, Dean cracked a joke when he saw the long gashes ripped through Steve's jeans and blood dribbling down his leg, "Shame we don't have any marshmallows."

Steve glanced at the still smoldering wendigo body then back at Dean with a small smile on his lips, "I don't think they'd taste all that well. This thing was an ugly looking creep."

"Are you okay?" Dean dropped the flamethrower and inspected Steve's wound, " We should sew that up. It looks bad, man."

"Just bandage it. It's not that deep, and I'm a quick healer. I should be okay for now, and my immune system's pretty good so I don't think I'll get an infection. We need to find Mr. Paxton and his daughter if they're still alive." Steve threw the backpack off and dug around for bandages.

"You just got clawed by a monster that consumes human flesh and you're being all chill about it?"

Steve shrugged, "Gotta roll with the punches. I'm pretty freaked all considering, but I'm okay. I'm not gonna turn into one of those things am I?"

"With that?" Dean replied, "No. Eat someone and it's a possibility"

"Don't really plan on eating anyone, so let's get moving."

Steve didn't complain at all as they hiked, and Dean gave him props for it since if it was him with the gashes in his thigh he would've been whining like there was no tomorrow. Any dreariness from sleep had left him leaving only the blood pumping feeling of the hunt. The wendigo hadn't been much of a chase since it found them.

Dean tried keeping his feet moving to burn off some energy, but he didn't want to run or even jog since it would put more stress on Steve's leg if he tried it. As they got closer to the cave Dean had smelled a corpse. He went to check it out, but steered Steve away when he tried to get a look. Someone would find the deputy's body eventually.

Steve looked around worried, "Wendigo's are solitary, right?"

"Yeah, no two wendigos would end up in the same territory." Dean answered, "If they hadn't already been eaten as a human the wendigos might still try and eat each other. No need to worry about another one."

Steve slumped against a tree when they came to the cave's entrance, "I don't think shouting would be any good since they might think it's the wendigo."

"If they're alive."

Steve rubbed his thigh, but didn't comment on it, "Gotta think positive. I packed a flashlight in the bag."

Dean said, "As you wish."

Steve asked, "Was that a reference to something?"

Dean walked into the dark cave leaving Steve without an answer. Steve had no choice but to leave it be and amble after him into the cave. The flashlight only lit their way a couple feet in front of them. They only sound was the rustling of their packs and Steve's feet dragging a little across the ground. The soft dripping of water from the cave walls seemed to echo. They didn't speak, but Dean signaled to Steve they'd have to go pretty deep into the cave if Craig and Susan were being kept alive.

As they went deeper and deeper into the cave, Dean kept a hand on Steve's arm to make sure he didn't get lost. Steve shivered a little, but Dean assumed it was because of the chill from being deep into the cave. Steve straightened up and stopped walking. He whispered, "I hear whimpering. I think it's a girl."

Dean's ears strained for any sound at all. The sound was faint, very quiet, and Dean was impressed Steve had managed to pick it up. Their pace quickened, and they didn't stop until they came to two people tied up and gagged. Dean kneeled next to the girl and shined the light on him and Steve so the girl could see them then propped it up so he could untie her, "Hey, I'm an old friend of your dad's. My name's Dean. Everything's gonna be okay. We took care of the monster, and we'll get you back home to your mom. Are you hurt really bad anywhere?"

The girl's cries became louder when Dean removed the gag, "It killed that one man. My dad told me to close my eyes, but I heard him screaming. Oh god. I twisted my ankle, but I'm not hurt too bad. It ate him. It ate that hiker!"

Steve got to work untying Craig who was barely conscious, "Come on, Mac, wake up. Your wife called us Mr. Paxton, and we took out the wendigo."

Steve slapped his face a little and Craig groaned, "Shit, feel like I've been hit by a fucking semi. Who the fuck are you?"

Susan asked, "Daddy? Daddy, are you okay?"

"I'll live sweetheart. You said Georgie called ya?"

Dean said, "Been a while hasn't it, Craig?"

Craig grumbled, "Oh fucking hell, of course I get stuck with John's boys."

Dean grinned, "Dean Winchester at your service. Tough talk considering we just saved your ass. Come on, let's get out of here."

Craig squinted at Steve in the flashlight light, "I always thought your brother looked more like your daddy. What the fuck happened?"

Steve rolled his eyes, "I'm not Sam, sir, my name's Steve. Dean, you help Mr. Paxton walk, and I'll carry Susan."

Dean scoffed, "Like hell you are. You took claws to the leg."

"Dean, I'll be fine. It doesn't even hurt that badly."

Dean argued, "Probably cause you're going into shock or something."

Steve sighed, "I'm good, Dean, her ankle's twisted."

Craig interrupted, "If you two are done bickering like an old married couple I'd like to get home to my wife. Hell, I remember getting civilians to safety with half my arm coming off back in my day."

"You calling yourself a civilian, Paxton?" Dean teased.

Craig scoffed, "Shut it, Winchester."

Everyone got patched up after the tearful reunions when they finally got back to the Paxton house. Craig was grumpy about having to be saved by a Winchester, but one look from Georgia shut him up quick. Steve insisted on rebandaging and disinfecting his wound himself, and since he did it when he was getting cleaned up there wasn't much Dean could do about it. Steve's walk looked like it improved, so Dean just hoped it would heal okay. Georgia insisted they stay for just a bit longer, and Marco had taken a liking to them after bringing his sister and dad back ,but Dean declined. He was too jittery to sit still, and didn't want to impose. He and Steve hit the road, but once they were in Park Rapids Dean had to get out of the Impala and run around.

Steve asked, "Dean, what're you doing?"

Dean groaned, "I'm too pumped up. I gotta do somethin'."

Dean had thought Steve would just tell him to get in the damn car so they could head back to Iowa, but instead he found Steve grinning at him.

He said, "I've got an idea."

"Steve, considering you got hurt I don't think this is a great idea."

Steve shrugged, "It was just a scratch. I'm fine. Now come on, fight me."

They'd switched their jeans for work out clothes, before Steve had told him to drive to an unknown place. Said unknown place turned out to be a boxing gym. There weren't that many people. One guy was jumping rope, two were in the ring, and two women were lifting. Standing behind Steve watching him have a go at the bags was a big plus, and Dean did pretty well on his own, but he drew the line at sparring with Steve when he'd already gotten him clawed by a wendigo.

Steve just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I'm fine, Dean! Fleshy wounds bleed a lot, and it wasn't even that deep. It was just a scratch. Besides, you said I'm supposed to be learning all about hunting and we haven't even done hand-to-hand fighting yet."

"Fine, whatever, but if your stitches open up don't blame me."

Dean's strength and reflexes had been honed over years of training. Steve was not taller, but had more bulk. Dean had been up against his dad, his brother, and fuglys that could squash him like a bug; he could take Steve. It seemed easy enough since Steve was human. He'd been in the military sure, but was human and the same height as him. It was a surprise when Steve actually managed to keep up with him in a fight. With Sam had always had to use the force of his body against him and keep up a speed that Sam wouldn't match with his larger frame. They went back and forth flinging fist away, catching wrists, and shoving before their hits could connect.

Dean just said fuck it to conventional fighting and went all in using his legs, feet, and head, but Steve still dodged as much as he could. Steve was just a more a defense. fighter than offensive. Steve was pretty good as evasion, but never ran away, and had nothing against using his mass to shield more sensitive areas from Dean's attacks. The women who had been lifting put the weights down and watched in awe as the two traded blows. It finally ended when Dean finally got his arms around Steve and forced him to the ground. Steve was too much in shock to care Dean was straddling him and cackling over his victory in between panting from the workout, "Well that as fun. I'm impressed, Rogers. Good job. You lasted longer then Kevin and Charlie, but you haven't beat Sammy's record."

Steve tried to catch his breathe. He blinked, "You won. I lost."

"I thought that was pretty clear. Get with the program, dude. What you not used to losing?"

Steve tried to sit up, but it was difficult with Dean sitting on his torso, "Haven't lost in a while. Can you get off?"

Dean grinned as he got up, "Maybe later, Apricitas."

The jokes Dean kept pulling were getting out of hand, but he just couldn't stop. It was too much and he couldn't just leave it if it was all set up like that. Steve stood up and brushed himself off, "That's Latin. Even if I don't know what it means right now I'll find out. Damn, I didn't think you'd grandstand. Thought you might go easy on me."

Dean said, "Never go easy one a beginner or they'll think they don't need to learn as much as they need to. You as hungry as I am. I saw a burger joint near the motel. The sign says it's the best burgers in town."

"I'm always hungry. A burger sounds good."

A burger had sounded good.

Never would Dean had ever expected burgers to betray him, and yet they had.

A horrible, horrible betrayal like Alfred Redl and Austria. Brutus and Caesar!

Dean bent over with his arms wrapped around his stomach as another wave of nausea hit him. He had been flirting with Steve so much over the past few days, and now he had fucking food poisoning. Puking was the farthest thing from sexy. He'd been fine during the meal, but as soon as they made it to the car his stomach started to turn. Damned sign said best burgers, not killer burgers. Steve wasn't affected at all, and he claimed it was because he had a strong stomach. Steve said, "We should get you to the motel. Hand me the keys and I'll drive."

Dean shook his head, which was a bad decision because it just made his stomach hurt, "I drive baby. I'm not dead, and I ain't dying."

Steve put his hands on his hips, "Dean, you're about to upchuck all over the pavement. We'll crash if you end up vomiting all over the front windshield."

"It's not that far. It's just right across from Shell gas station."

Steve frowned, but got into the passenger seat anyway, "Fine, but if you need to stop, just stop."
Dean wobbled slightly as he got into the driver seat and his stomach rumbled uncomfortable, but he was going to drive baby. Food poisoning be damned.

He managed to get the car parked, but as soon as he got out his stomach started disagreeing with the movement. Dean quickly unlocked the door and dashed for the bathroom. He clung to the toilet as he lost his lunch. He hadn't wanted Steve to see him puke his guts out, so he'd closed the door but left it only slightly ajar. Steve called, "Dean, I'll be right back, okay?"

The only reply Dean could give him were his retching sounds and watery coughs.

Absolutely disgusting.

Leaving the bathroom meant the chance of puking all over Steve's shoes, so he just kept close to the toilet occasionally leaning against the cool porcelain of the bathtub when he stopped puking. He hadn't even eaten that much, and it seemed like the puking never ended. His throat was burning, his stomach as sore, and his mouth was filled with the horrible taste of bile. The only promising part was his stomach felt just about empty.

Someone gently rapped their knuckles on the door, "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "Peachie. Fucking burgers betrayed me."

Steve didn't open the door, but he slid a box of pills and a water bottle inside the bathroom, "I went to the gas station and got some things. Those nausea pills should help, and don't chug the water. Just take a couple small sips every few minutes. A friend told me that clear soda helps settle the stomach, so I got some 7-up."

A saint. Steve Rogers was a saint. Dean would have to ask if there were any Steve Rogers on any list of sainthood anywhere. Dean coughed up and spat what he could just to be sure he wouldn't puke up the medicine before the cool liquid eased the burning in his throat a little. He washed his face, checked to make sure his clothes were clean, then carefully brushed his teeth so he wouldn't gag. He hated puking, and might never eat another burger again. Or at least never eat a burger again in Minnesota.

Dean trudged out of the bathroom reluctantly. He was still a little queasy, but no immediate danger of blowing chunks. He collapsed on the closest bed not caring if it was his or Steve's. Dean rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his arm. Dean groaned, "This is bullshit. Sammy's the one who ends up with food poisoning, not me, and you're perfectly fine."

The bed dipped slightly as Steve sat down, "I guess the tables have turned. Karma's a bitch."

"I'm gonna kill this karma chick wherever she is. My fucking tummy hurts." Dean grumbled.

Dean didn't think Steve would dignify his grumbling with an answer, but instead of a reply he got large hands on his abdomen rhythmically rubbing his stomach. It felt nice and actually helped with the soreness a little, but it was still puzzling, "Steve, what're you doing?"

His hands didn't stop massaging, "You know how I said I used to be sick all the time when I was a kid. Well, whenever I'd come down with a stomach bug my mom would usually rub my stomach to help me feel better. You're hurting so I thought it might help. Do you want me to stop?"

Dean settled his arms behind his head to get comfortable, "Nah, I think it's working so if you want to feel free. I might fall asleep on ya, so you can turn on the TV."

Dean had his eyes closed, but he heard the voice emit from the TV as soon as Steve turned it on, "Devouring sweethearts taut wet-"

The horror in Steve's voice was enough to make Dean smile, "Oh lord!"

The TV was shut off again.

Dean opened his eyes and chuckled at the expression on Steve's face, "Turn it to channel 175. I think Tom and Jerry should be on at this time. Tom and Jerry's good shit."

Steve rubbed at the nape of his neck, "I-I'd rather not turn the TV back on."

Dean grabbed the controller and did it himself. Steve averted his eyes from the TV.

A sensual woman's voice said,"Arousing beauty's lusty harcore crave-"

Dean quickly switched it to Tom and Jerry and instead of dirty talk the sounds coming from the TV were just sound effects and Spike talking since neither Tom and Jerry spoke. Steve looked back to the TV and giggled when Tom was was hit by an ironing board when Jerry opened the cupboard, "Thanks, Dean."

His hands returned to rubbing Dean's aching stomach, "No problem." He yawned, "You mind if I take a nap?"

Just from Steve's voice Dean could tell he was smiling, "Not at all."

Dean tried to move closer to the warmth close to him with his face resting on what felt like jeans. His stomach felt a lot better, even if his arm felt a little numb. Dean woke up to the voice of Porky Pig's voice.

Dean asked drearily, "What's up, Doc?"

Dean realized Steve was gently caressing his hair, "Oh, Dean, are you wake?"

"Just about. How long was I asleep?"

"An hour give or take. Tom and Jerry ended, but Looney Toons is on. I remember watching this with Bucky. Do you feel any better?"

Dean sat up and stretched, "Yeah, I should call Sam to let him know Craig's okay and that the hunt went okay. How's your leg? The other one, not the one I was laying on."

Steve replied, "It was just a scratch. I told you I'm fine. Call Sam."

Sammy was probably worried anyway. The phone rang four times before it was picked up, "Hey Dean, how'd the case go?"

Dean said, "Case went okay I guess. Craig and his daughter were taken by a wendigo, but me and Steve roasted it and got them back home safe. The deputy and another hiker were dead, but Craig said he'd take care of it. Steve got a good gash on his leg, but he claims he's fine. I planned to call you earlier, but I fell asleep after puking my guts out."

Sam asked, "You seriously got drunk when you were with Steve?"

Dean replied,"No, I was not hungover. I got fucking food poisoning. You remember that time in Pasadena and you had those bad tacos. We're heading back to Iowa to get Steve's bike."

"I'm looking into a possible case in Illinois. I'm not for sure it's a case yet, but it could be. I'll look into it a bit more and maybe you could come with Steve. You can rest up a few days first, so Steve can do whatever he needs to do and you can come back here. Later, Dean"

Dean rolled his eyes, "You're not my boss but whatever, bitch." He pressed end call and put his phone back into his pocket, "Hey Steve, you got any plans close by?"

Steve shrugged, "I planned to do to Missouri to see the arch then head back up to Illinois. Why?"

"Missouri, hmm? Springfield Style cashew chicken is good. Sammy wants me to get back to the batcave, but he also said he might've found a case in Illinois, and he said if you've got any plans to do them. He's still looking into it, but we might be headed up there, and he wants you to come after you heal up. You think you might be up for that?"

Steve stood up and took Dean completely by surprise when he kissed his temple, "Of course. I'd like to meet your brother."

Dean was still trying to process the fact Steve had actually kissed him, "Well, I gotta check on the kids first, and Sammy's being a nag. Uh, you did really great and uh yeah. We should hit the road."

Steve gathered their things and went out the door like nothing had happened, "Let's go then." He turned to Dean still with that bright smile on his face, "Dean, you ready?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. Thrown off by a little peck on the temple was not something Dean Winchester did, "Yeah, but I drive. You better go easy on your leg okay, so no morning runs and make sure to keep the wound clean."

Steve said, "I know, I know. I mo thuairimse, go mb'fhéidir go mbeadh mé i ngrá leat."

Dean furrowed his brow, "That was a lot of words, and it was too fast. What'd you say?"

Steve turned his back to Dean and called over his shoulder, "Nothing! Don't worry about it!"

"You're an asshole, Steve!"

Steve laughed. He probably knew right away Dean didn't mean his words. Dean knew he wouldn't be able to translate Steve's words online since they were said so fast and he didn't even understand the grammar, but by the feeling he got when Steve said them he had an odd feeling about what they might mean. It wasn't unpleasant though; not at all.