French Toast and Psychosis
Title: French Toast and Psychosis
Author: darth_firefly
Artist: kidezt
Beta:Terendel
Pairing: Dean/Gabriel, mentions of Sam/Bela
Rating:PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic), cancer
Summary: It was just supposed to be a weekend get-away. Doctor Gabriel Armstrong was looking forward to his semi-annual weekend off to de-stress from his job as a psychiatrist. He certainly wasn't looking for a weekend fling. Dean Winchester has been doing a good job of hiding his burn-out from running his diner and taking care of his brother Sam, who's battling leukemia. He was sent off for the weekend, kicking and screaming. He definitely wasn't looking for anything out of the weekend other than a nice massage. What neither of them know is that they're already connected - by one of Gabriel's patients, Emma Crowe.
Dean set the small mountain of paperwork down on the kitchen table and went in search of his brother. He had gotten all the necessary files from his attorney, but he wasn't going to begin to wade through it all without discussing the whole matter with his brother. While he knew Sam had wanted to come along with him to learn the results of the test, he'd had the last of his exams to worry about. He followed the noise until he found his brother, sitting on the couch and cursing under his breath at the TV as he played Call of Duty. He leaned against the door frame, waiting for Sam to finish the round he was on.
“That sucked!” Sam fell back against the cushions, his face flushed.
“You're supposed to play that game to get rid of stress, not cause it.” He chuckled and came into the room. “How was your last exam?”
“Fine.” He pushed a few buttons and then put the controller down. “What's the news?”
Dean sat down heavily on the other end of the couch. “Congratulations, it's a girl.”
“Seriously?” Sam sat up, staring at him. “Dude...” He blinked a few times. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” He smiled slightly. “I'm supposed to meet her Monday.”
“That's... I don't know what to say.” Sam huddled into the couch and shivered. “Sorry, it's the air conditioner.”
“We can turn it off it bothers you that much.” He shrugged in reply. “It's not like it's insanely hot outside just yet, I can deal.”
“That's the problem - if we turn it off, I'll be too hot.” He tucked his feet up under him.
“Are you sure you're not going through menopause? Because I swear, with these hot and cold flashes, you're acting just like mom did when you were six.” Dean snorted.
“Give it a rest.” He snorted. “Jerk.”
“Aw, shut up bitch, I've been gone all day and haven't gotten to give you a hard time since dinner last night.” He took a breath. “There's something else I wanted to discuss with you.”
“What is it?” Sam turned to look at him. “Is this about the kid?”
“Yeah. Her name is Emma. Lydia's parents are dead and she was an only child.” He rubbed his eyes. “It's a complicated mess, but I'm pretty much the only family she has that isn't tied to that cult.”
“That's...” Sam frowned. “Well, it's not like we don't have room, Dean.”
“I know.” He took a breath. “I don't know how to be a parent, Sammy.”
“Well, you're an excellent big brother.” He pulled off his skull cap and rubbed the fuzz of hair growing on his head. “It can't be much harder.” He let out a breath. “And it's not like you have to do it alone, you've got me, you've got Charlie, you've even got Cas and Becky, the amazing neurotic wonder twins.”
“Becky isn't that bad.” He snorted. “She just needs to lay off the teenage vampire romances.” He rubbed his neck. “I just... I don't even know what I'm supposed to tell her about... and...”
“I think she'll probably accept the fact that her mom ran off and didn't tell you she was pregnant. If you had known, you'd have done something about it.” Sam frowned, folded his arms and put on his best John Winchester face. “Or Dad would have made you do something.”
“The hell Dad doing it, it'd have been Mom.” He fell back against the cushions and closed his eyes. “Anyway, like I said, supposed to meet her next week. Need to fill out papers, have a social worker visit the place, something like that.”
“At least you don't have to get a bunch of caps for the electrical outlets. You think they'll expect us to have a lock on the liquor cabinet?” Sam frowned. “Then again, what's in that thing these days?”
“A bottle of Baileys, two bottles of wine, that bottle of champagne we're saving for the day the docs say you're officially in remission and at least four types of any kind of bar glass you can imagine.” Dean shrugged. “You remember I got rid of a ton of it months ago.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed at spot on his knee, frowning. “And it's not like this place isn't nearly spotless.” He slowly grinned. “One advantage to me being sick - this house is kept kept almost immaculate.”
“One go around with the Dyson is about all we need.” He shook his head. “This is insane.”
“Yeah. We'll wait to do that until after the Reds game, right?” Sam slowly stretched. “You sure Gabriel is ready to meet your little brother?”
“Given what he does for a living, I don't think you're going to be an issue, Sammy.” He shook his head. “He is a psychiatrist.”
“So he helps crazy people.” He stood up and ruffled his brother's hair as he passed. “And he's not charging you anything.” He shuffled out of the room as fast as he could.
Dean rose to give chase, but he shook his head instead. “You need it more than I do, bitch!”
“Shut it, Jerk!” Sam called from the stairs.
**
Gabriel glanced at the scrap of paper where he'd written down Dean's address and then looked back at the house. It wasn't the sort of place he'd expected to find the man living in. He'd been thinking something akin to a bungalow or a shot-gun house. Instead, he found himself facing a brick three story home that was probably new before the Great Depression. There was almost no front yard, just a patch of grass that could be tended with a push mower. He went up the walk, noting that the crepe myrtle growing next to the small front porch looked as if someone had taken their aggression out on it, rather than giving the flowers an even trim. There was also a pine tree growing in a pot standing sentinel on the large step. “This can't be the right house.” He rang the bell, still certain that whoever lived here would be sending him across or down the street. A distorted figure became visible on the other side of the glass and iron covering the door and then it opened.
“You must be Gabriel.” Standing there was a very tall and extremely thin man of about twenty. “I'm Sam.” He gave him a sheepish grin. “Let me guess - you didn't think this was the right place.” He stood aside to let him in.
“How could you guess?” He adjusted his hold on the dish he was holding.
“It's what everyone thinks.” The younger man shrugged, “it's usually followed by; why is this place so damn clean?”
He laughed. “Well, since I know your brother isn't OCD, I wasn't going to say anything.”
Sam snorted. “You haven't tried to do anything in the kitchen then.”
“I can hear you!” Dean yelled from somewhere in the house as the two of them walked down the hall and into the family room, where they found the man, checking something in a crock pot.
“You know I'm right!” Sam retorted. “I'm surprised you let me pour a bowl of cereal and milk in the place.”
“Considering what you did to that innocent bag of carrot sticks...”
“I was five!”
Gabriel looked from one man to the other and then chuckled. “It's so nice to run into an amusingly dysfunctional family.”
“We're not dysfunctional.” Dean retorted.
“Yeah. He just doesn't want to admit I'm not ten years old anymore.” Sam took the dish from him and took it over to the table.
“Oh, so you two can agree on something.” He grinned. “How cute.”
Sam let out an odd sound. “I already like him better than what's his name, Dean. You know, the douche who couldn't stand it when he ceased to be the center of attention?”
“Mark. His name was Mark.” Dean glowered at his brother. “And I don't need a lecture on my ex-boyfriends, young man whose last girlfriend freaked out and thought cancer was contagious.”
The younger man fell back in a chair and folded his arms in a magnificent pout. “Angie didn't think cancer was contagious. She just...” He sighed. “Okay, she was a total ditz and it wouldn't have lasted even if I hadn't gotten sick.”
The doorbell rang, bringing an much needed end to the conversation. Gabriel turned. “I'll get it.”
“Thanks.” Sam said from his chair and Dean said from the table.
“Weird.” Gabriel said under his breath and walked to the door, guessing that the next guest was probably Charlie. He had just reached the door when a voice sounded from the other side.
“I told you to just go in.”
“I didn't want to...”
He swung the door open, he knew the second voice. “Bela?” He saw the woman's jaw drop.
“Oh, you're Gabriel?” Charlie, whom he recognized from the diner looked from him to Bela. “You two know each other?”
“We're cousins.” He said, without thinking and saw relief on Bela's face.
Charlie frowned. “You don't look alike and you don't have the same last name...”
“The two clowns who live here don't look alike either, but they've assured me they're brothers.” He shrugged and stepped aside to let them in. “Since you know them better than I do, Charlie, you probably know what I mean.”
The red headed woman laughed and walked past them towards the back of the house. “Point.”
Bela adjusted her hold on the dish she was carrying. “Cousins?” She said to him, under her breath.
“Would you rather go with the truth?” He raised his eyebrows at her.
“No, no cousins is good.” She glanced at him. “Distant cousins?”
“Yeah.” He took a breath and they came into the family room. “I didn't even know you liked baseball.”
“Well, it is easier to follow than cricket.” Bela tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“What, they didn't explain that sport right off in PE in grade school?” Gabriel chuckled.
“No, that was field hockey.” She managed a smile. “You need any help, Charlie?”
“I'm good.” She deftly opened a bag of tortilla chips. “Dean, Sam, this is my friend Bela - the one I was telling you about earlier.”
“Hey.” Dean replied, returning from the kitchen carrying a crock-pot. “It's been a long week so remind me, is Bela your LARPing friend or your book-club friend?”
“I'm the other queen of Moondor.” Bela answered before Charlie could. “We are in the middle of an alliance to overthrow the two kings and establish a matriarchy.”
Sam snorted. “Charlie, do you have any normal friends?”
“Says the man who's going to dress up as the Doctor this September.” Dean interjected.
*
“You are the one who told me I should try and make some friends.” Bela folded her arms and glared at Gabriel from her seat across the desk. “And since I've have so many issues in my past, where better to make friends in a game where everyone is pretending to be something that they're not?”
Gabriel set his pen down. “I wasn't going to say anything about your friends, Bela. I'm just surprised you never brought it up.”
“Well, you know me and information.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “I really do enjoy it and it's nice to let off some stress at the same time. I went to this Doctor Who thing and I was dressed up as Ace and some idiot asked who I was supposed to be, and Charlie called the guy a heretic for not knowing anything about the Classic Years. She and I went to lunch, debated what the worst thing done to Colin Baker was and the rest is history.” She leaned forward to rest her arms on his desk. “And yes, I know she's a lesbian.”
Gabriel scanned his notes. “I remember you mentioning the convention - that was...” He looked up. “That was last October.”
“It was that long ago?” She sat back, blinking. “Shit, here it felt like just last month.”
He gave her a half smile. “It was a rough winter for everyone.”
“Suppose it has.” She sighed. “I guess I should have brought it up, but... well... you know me. I mean, it took me around four months to go to the diner where Charlie works.” She slowly smiled. “By the way, have you had the french toast?”
“No, I've not been there for breakfast. It's that good?” He scribbled down a few notes.
“It's incredible - like I want curl up on the plate and drown in the syrup good.” She bit at her bottom lip. “Shit, now I want some.”
“I think the Orion Diner serves breakfast all day.” Gabriel sat up a little straighter. “I've been thinking things over and wanted to ask if you would like to join in a therapy group.”
“Aw, you're not giving up on me, are you Doctor Armstrong?” She grinned at him mischievously. “And you're so highly recommended, too.”
He laughed. “Aren't you the funny one?” He cleared his throat. “I'm not suggesting you stop coming here, I'm suggesting an expansion of your support group.”
“Well, I don't suppose it could hurt.” She stood up and started to pace. “It also might help me get out more.”
“If you don't want to, that's perfectly fine. But I would not have suggested it if I didn't think you were up to it.” He gave her an encouraging look.
She sat back down into her chair and folded her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I think I'd like to try. I mean, just go for one session, at least.” She sighed. “Aren't these things a little like AA? You don't have to show up for every meeting, or something?”
Gabriel nodded. “It's something like that. I've never been to an AA meeting, so I can't tell you for sure.” He took out his notepad and scribbled down the time and location of the group he'd found for her.
“It couldn't hurt. It's not like I've ever talked to Charlie about all this.” She took the slip of paper from him. “And no, our relationship is not like that.”
He chuckled. “I'm aware of that Bela. From what I've seen, the only way the two of you could be more platonic is if you were twins.” He was about to say something more when the timer went off. “Well, I hope you have a good day at work and all the idiots stay in for Monday.”
Bela laughed and stood up. “Right. Idiots stay in on Mondays.” She frowned. “Wait, it's not the holidays, they should be staying home and you have a nice day too - Gabriel.”
“Oh, you finally decided to call me by my first name?” He stood and walked her to the door. “I've only been asking you to do that for the past eleven months.”
“Well, after yesterday, it'd be weird. I'm just surprised I got through the whole afternoon without calling you Doctor Armstrong.” She put her hand on the knob. “And don't worry, I won't be killing myself today - because after this weekend, there's no way I'm missing the party the Winchesters are having for the running of the Belmont.” She opened the door and left.
Gabriel chuckled as he shut the door as the woman walked away. He knew that eventually he and Bela would have to come clean about the truth of how they knew each other, but right now, it didn't matter all that much to him. Everyone had their fair share of secrets.
*
Dean noticed that his hand trembled as he pushed the button in the elevator for the fifth floor. He clutched his hand into a fist as the car started upward. He was going to meet Emma - his daughter. It was all a confusing mix of emotions. While he was the girl's only living biological relative, he couldn't assume legal custody for her for several weeks. There was that small mountain of paperwork and such, but both his lawyer and the social worker had assured him that the two of them would have the majority of the summer to get to know each other and bond. He'd need it - he didn't even know what the closest middle school to his house was.
He adjusted his hold on the gift bag and scrapbook he and Sam had put together on the social worker's suggestion, that had photographs of family members and places that were important. Of course, dropping the news on Emma that her father referred to a diner and a car as his babies and her uncle was battling cancer weren't exactly endearing. Then again, after god only knew what bullshit Lydia had fed to her growing up, it might not be so bad after all.
The elevator doors whooshed open and he felt his heart lurch as he stepped out. This was insane, all around hard to believe and at the same time - wonderful. The office he went into was non-descript with a very bored looking secretary typing away. She looked up when he came in, and gave him a once over. “Name?”
“Dean Winchester.” He cleared his throat. “I'm supposed to see Michael Cunningham.”
“Yes.” She picked up the phone and hit a button. “Mr. Cunningham? Mr. Winchester is here.”
Dean blinked. He was rarely called 'Mr. Winchester.' The woman waved him away from her desk and he had a seat in one of the chairs.
The gift had been Charlie's suggestion. He swore that since he was her boss, any time they weren't in the diner, she took it upon herself to be as bossy as she could towards him; and Sam. It was comical to watch her and Sam play off each other like twins who were separated at birth because no parents on earth could handle the two of them at the same time. He wasn't sure what Sam thought of the way he and Charlie acted. But for all her bossy nature, she had refused to come with him to buy the gift. Twenty minutes in the Build-A-Bear Workshop had been horrifying and had him questioning his own sanity. But he'd walked out of the place with a dark brown bear with a large white bow tied around its neck.
“Dean Winchester?” A voice said and he looked up. A middle-aged man in a suit stood in the corridor.
“Yes.” He stood and shook the man's offered hand. “How are you?”
“I'm very well, thank you.” He led him down the small hallway. “And yourself?”
“Not bad, all things considered.” Dean cleared his throat. “I wasn't given a clear indication of what all would happen today.”
“Today's just an initial meeting. I must thank you for being calm about the whole matter.” He shook his head. “It's been an awful mess with some of the others.”
“I learned a long time ago that freaking out doesn't do much help when life throws you a curve ball.” He shrugged when the man turned around to look at him. “It's true. I'll save my freaking out for minor things down the road.” He smiled faintly. “Like Emma's first driving lesson.”
Michael cracked a smile. “I think you are going to be just fine, Mr. Winchester.”
“Thank, and it's Dean. The only people who call me Mr. Winchester are busboys and girls on their first day of work.” He grinned as they went into a meeting room. He stopped short when a face appeared, looking at him from around her chair. Emma was small, blond and pale, and was staring at him with wide, green eyes. He didn't even know the door was shut until he felt a hand on his arm.
Emma pushed back her chair and stood up - she was shorter than Dean originally guessed, looking to be closer to ten than twelve. She gave him a small smile. “Hello.”
Dean managed to return the greeting. “Hi.” He wasn't sure what to do next. Thankfully, Emma apparently decided to solve the problem for both of them by coming over to him and throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. He returned it, albeit awkwardly - her shoulders just cleared his ribcage. “Please don't cry, I won't be able to stand it if you do.”
She looked up at him and he could see she was fighting back tears. “Why's that?”
“I hate to see kids cry. Especially girls.” He hoped he wasn't about to start crying either.
“That's enough now, Emma.” A stern but calm voice broke into the conversation and the girl drew away, a look of disdain marring her features for only a moment. Dean looked to see a woman standing next to another chair. He had a feeling she wasn't the social worker.
Michael Cunningham guided him over to the far side of the table to he could face the other occupants of the table. The stern woman, Emma, and a middle-aged woman who was making notes in a folder. “Well, now that we're all here...”
*
Dean leaned against his Impala and pushed the button for the fourth person on his contact list. “Please pick up, please pick up...”
“Afternoon, Dean.” Gabriel's voice greeted him and he breathed a sigh of relief. “What's wrong?”
“Depends on your definition of wrong.” He watched as Mrs. Cooper, Emma's current foster parent and the girl walked down a different row of cars. “I'll just say this real fast, so you don't get the shock of your life. I'm Emma Crowe's father.”
Dead silence.
“Gabe?” His voice cracked.
“Fuck.” The man replied. “I mean, well...”
“I'm not familiar with all this legal jargon, I'm not Sam, but I'm just trying to...” He was fumbling for words.
“It's not a conflict, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, if you were also a member of that cult, or something... It's complicated, but it's probably not as complicated as you think.” He heard Gabriel take a deep breath. “I'm technically not allowed to do much interference unless I feel Emma's in danger. But I also can't talk freely about what we discuss, unless, again, it's something I feel presents a hazard to her physical or mental health. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” Dean slid his fingers through his hair. “I think the biggest problem at the moment is who has to tell her that her shrink and her dad are involved with each other.”
“I don't think we need to tell her that right away.” He coughed. “I have to go, my three o'clock is here.”
“Sure. I need to get back to the diner before Cas accidentally sets it on fire.” He sighed. “I know he doesn't cook, but he might get it into his head to try.”
Gabriel snorted. “I'll talk to you later.”
“Sure.” Dean replied and he heard the older man hang up. “This is just... peachy.” He got into his car and headed back to the diner.
*
“I met him! I met him!” Emma burst into Gabriel's office with a sort of joy he'd never seen on the girl's face - he was actually surprised she was capable. He'd warned her when they started their search she had to be prepared for disappointment, but apparently, miracles did happen. He wasn't an integral part of the search, he was only told that Emma's biological father had been found and was willing to take custody of her. He was actually glad of that - he had a feeling that if it had been the opposite, the girl would have gone right back into the shell he'd spent the better part of the last year trying to break her out of .
Of course, that was before Dean's phone call an hour and a half ago. Now he was surprised he wasn't in shell shock himself. He'd told Emma not to expect a fairy tale, but this was rapidly turning into one, or so it seemed. He had watched Dean with his brother this past weekend and how he took care of him. There was no doubt in his mind that the man would be a good father, but he didn't expect Dean to turn out to be the desperately wished for dad of a little girl his heart had been aching for with every nightmare she'd revealed.
However, thanks to years of study and a few bouts in theater, he was able to keep his composure.
“That's wonderful!” He beamed at her as she took the seat in front of his desk. “So it was a good meeting?”
“It was great!” She set a scrapbook, along with a brown bear on his desk. “I've never had one of these before, I always wanted one, even when I was too big to have them.” She adjusted the plush animal's bow, her smile was wider than the Ohio River. “Not only that, Mr. Cunningham said that something to the extent of since the Department of Children Services has so many kids right now, they've expire.. what's the word for speeding things up like that?”
“Expedite?” Gabriel replied, scribbling a note in her file.
“That's the one! They're expediting the paperwork so I'll be able to go live with my dad the weekend after Memorial Day!” She pulled the bear into her arms and hugged it, and then her expression slowly calmed and her face twisted into a frown. “I keep thinking all of this is too good to be true.”
“Or perhaps it's a stroke of good luck.” He gave her an optimistic look. “You want to pick numbers for the Powerball drawing?”
She chuckled. “You're funny, Doctor Armstrong.” She fell back into the chair, still keeping her grip on the bear. “I don't think Mrs. Cooper likes him very much, but then again, Mrs. Cooper doesn't like many things. But she's a lot nicer than Mrs. Addison.”
“I'm glad to hear that.” He rested his head on his hand, watching her. “Why do you think Mrs. Cooper doesn't like him? Any man who finds out he has a child and is willing to take said child in within a month of learning can't be that bad.”
“I think she doesn't know that my mom ran off to join the cult and didn't even tell my dad she was pregnant.” She frowned. “Or it could have been the few stains that were on his chef's coat. I told you what a stickler she is for being clean and tidy.”
“So your dad's a chef then?” He was surprised at how easily he was concealing the fact that he already knew Dean.
“Uh huh. He owns a diner.” Emma's smile shifted slightly. “And I've got an uncle too, and a crazy aunt who dad says isn't related by blood. He said he made the mistake of feeding her and she wouldn't go away.”
Gabriel shook his head. That sounded like something Dean would say. “Isn't this your last week of school?”
“Yeah.” Her smile faltered slightly. “I'm going to have to change schools in August.”
“Are you worried about that?” He jotted down another note on her file.
“A little. I mean, it's not like I love the school I'm at now, but... well...” She sighed. “I don't know.”
“I think that's normal for anyone going to a new school. Perhaps you can make some friends in your new neighborhood before then.” He glanced down at the scrapbook and then quickly looked back up. He wasn't going to mention it until she did.
“Oh!” She jumped up.
Damn. She'd seen his look. It wasn't that he didn't already know the people inside, it was a matter of keeping his face surprised for her sake.
“I wanted to show you this!” She flipped the book open and showed him a picture of Dean, grinning from the food window at the Orion Diner. A plate piled with the most decadent looking french toast was next to him. “Not only do we have the same eyes, we've got the same smile!”
He looked up from the scrapbook and discovered that Emma was right.
Epilogue