Rebound: Tenderness, Part 3
It was barely light out. Cas shivered and squinted miserably at the alarm clock. He was cold and tired and facing a double shift and he’d been dreaming of New York, of angry voices and unreasonable demands.
Cas felt Dean’s toes slip under his sweat pants and rub lightly at his foot. Dean pushed against his back, snaked an arm around him to rub his stomach, and breathed deliberately into Cas’ ear.
“Morning,” Cas grinned.
“You’re stressing. Quit it.” Cas sighed. “You’re tired,” Dean murmured, and kissed the sensitive spot on his neck. “Let me meet you for dinner, okay?”
Cas felt that familiar, enormous warmth wash over him. He turned, cupped Dean’s face, pushed him back onto the mattress, and wriggled on top of him, kissing his cheeks and nose and lips. Dean smiled and slipped a hand beneath his shirt to rub the bare skin on his back, easing the tension away, flirting with the hem of Cas’ pajama bottoms.
“Relax,” Dean murmured. “You carry too much. Let it go. You’re with me.”
I don’t carry anything compared to you, Cas thought, pressing his face to his boyfriend’s throat. You’re love brought to life.
Something started beeping. Cas’s chest hitched. He knew the sound of a struggling heart when he heard it. He clutched Dean, pushed his face into his throat, listened to the beats. They were regular, they were normal, Dean was okay. Dean had him and Dean loved him and Dean wouldn’t leave him, wouldn’t toss him aside because he didn’t make enough money or wanted to live in a different city or wanted a family, not endless hours of slave-labor. Dean wouldn’t leave him, and Dean wouldn’t die, because Dean couldn’t die, because he couldn’t leave him. And Sam-God, what would Sam do? Dean would never leave Sam, and Sam was fine, so Dean could never leave. He couldn’t lose Dean, he couldn’t, he couldn’t-
Cas jerked away, gasping. Dean was leaning over him, a warm hand on his shoulder, talking softly. “Hey, hey, hey, take it easy,” he soothed. “I gotcha. You with me?”
Cas moaned. “Fuck,” he gasped. Dean’s face lit up.
“Dude, that is the first time you’ve ever-”
“Shutup,” Cas groaned. “I think I’ve died.”
“Nope. Sorry. But you are short an appendix.”
Cas remembered bits and pieces-of being wheeled into the admittance area to triage, Anna arriving with her gentle smile and rock-solid presence, a few quick presses on his side, an ultrasound order, and then his clothes being cut away, and replaced with a gown and tissue before a mask covered his face and he’d gone under.
“Dean?”
His boyfriend’s face softened. “Hey. Easy does it, buddy. You hurting?”
“Just...lost.”
“Yeah, well, you’re drugged to the gills.”
Cas closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself. “Sam?” he managed.
“In the waiting room with Bobby, Ellen, and Andy. He’s fine.” Dean rubbed Cas’ shoulder. “So are you.”
Cas closed his eyes, let himself indulge in Dean’s warm, wide hand pressed against the top of his head.
“M’sorry,” he managed. “I should’ve known-”
“No, but you should’ve told me you felt like hell.” Cas looked up to see Dean’s obvious question of why didn’t you? and swallowed hard.
“I thought...it was no big deal. It’d be gone in the morning.”
“Right,” Dean said, his eyes warm and soft, mouth cocked in a gentle smile. “And it had nothing to do with the fear that maybe Sammy and me would freak?”
“No,” Cas pleaded, gripping Dean’s arm. “I knew you’d be there for me. If I needed it. I just-”
“Didn’t think you needed it,” Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Cas gripped his arm tighter, and Dean laid a hand over his and squeezed. “S’okay, bud. I can’t be mad at you when I’d of done the same.”
Cas shared a look with him, all warm eyes and sweetness, and tried to clear his head. “You said Andy’s here?”
“Yeah. Sam texted him, because they’re co-depedent, and Andy didn’t have his phone on silent and it woke him up. And I texted Bobby and Ellen, and Bobby was up and watching some dumb TV show, so they swung by.”
“Why?”
“To make sure you were alright.”
“I mean, why did you text Bobby and Ellen?”
“Because that’s what family does, Cas.”
The silence hung there. Dean squeezed his hand as Cas picked at the hospital blanket.
“Do you want me to call-”
“No.”
“I think they’d want to know.”
“They don’t.”
“Cas-”
“Dean! I said no.”
Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. I hear you.” He got to his feet, and Cas felt the room sway.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“To let everyone know you’re awake, and get a doctor in here.”
“You can push the call button.”
“They’re right down the hall.”
“Just push the call button.” Cas felt his eyes stinging once more. “Please?”
His boyfriend took his hand, and squeezed gently. “Sure thing, bud. Whatever you need.”
* * *
Anna was unusually stern, arms crossed in front of her. “I don’t want to sound patronizing, Cas, but you are very, very lucky this wasn’t worse. By the time we got in there, there was a rupture halfway down the bone. If you’d gotten here twenty minutes later the entire thing would have been gone, and you would be looking at a minimum of month’s stay, and that’s assuming we saved you. You should have come in earlier, Cas, and you should have known you needed to.”
“I should of made him,” Dean said before Cas could answer.
“Both of you,” Cas snapped, “are wrong. Anna, you know as well as I do that it’s difficult to diagnosis appendicitis. And Dean, I’m not a child.”
“You’re acting like one,” Anna scolded, “one who doesn’t want to take his medicine. Or admit he needs his medicine.”
Cas blushed. “I just thought it was a flu.”
Anna’s face softened. “I understand, really. You just scared me, that’s all. You scared a lot of people. Doctors are the worse patients, for sure.” She made a note on his chart. “You’re going to be in for at least a week, and on bed-rest at home for at least a week more. I want you to rest, Cas-no calling in, no Blackberry, no worrying about New York, no family meetings at Rosemount. Watch TV, drink lots of fluids, take naps, and let yourself heal. Understood?”
Cas sighed, exhaustion rocking through him. “Thank you, Anna,” he managed. She smiled and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I’m very, very glad that you’re okay, Cas. I’m going to get you up and fighting as quick as I can. It will be easier if you don’t fight us.” She cast a warm gaze at Dean. “I’m counting on you, Winchester.”
“I’m miles ahead of you, sweetheart.”
“Get a room,” Cas grumbled, his eyes drifting closed.
“You’re mean on anesthesia,” Dean said. Anna gave Cas’s shoulder a gentle pat.
“I’ll let everyone out there know you’re alright. Get some sleep.”
Cas didn't have the strength to argue.
* * *
Cas drifted for awhile: how people slept in hospitals, he could never understand. But he had infinite more empathy now for cranky patients.
Well-meaning, hard-working nurses popped in nearly every twenty-minutes. Some took notes, some spoke with Dean, and some roused him from his half-slumber to ask questions, examine his stitched side, or offer him pain and sleep aids. Even without them, the lights were far too bright, the bed too lumpy, narrow, and horribly devoid of Dean for Cas to truly relax into. His side ached, his fever spiked, and although he couldn’t think quite clearly yet, he was already beginning to worry about everything he’d fallen behind on, and would only fall further in the oncoming weeks.
He was somewhere between dreaming and wake when something cold hit his forehead and early sent him out of his skin, and Dean coaxed “easy, easy,” and appeared in his vision. “Your temp’s up again, bud.”
“Dean,” he mumbled.
“One and only.”
Even Cas wasn’t sure what he said next, but it didn’t matter: he felt the pads of Dean’s fingertips on his too-hot forehead, the rhythmic smoothing of his hair, the warm hand over his own.
And, even more importantly, he heard his boyfried’s voice humming, than singing, than the nearly-silent television. His side began to ache and throb, and a nurse came by at least three times before he woke covered in sweat, with a dry-mouth and a clearer head.
“Your fever’s breaking,” Anna said, and Cas started to find her back at his side. “You had me a little worried there, Cas.”
“M’so...high?”
She chuckled. “Not doing it for you, huh?”
“Don’ know why people like this.”
“Good. One less thing for me to worry about with you.” She moved the blankets aside and examined his stitches. He felt heat fill his face, finally aware enough to be embarrassed. “I’m going to take you off the heavy-duty stuff and pump up your antibodies. The key here is going to be rest, Cas: no driving, no lifting, no gardening or anything for the next few weeks. I mean it. You land back in here with torn stitches or muscles and I’ll put you on a forced sabbatical. Don’t test me.”
“I’ve been out too much,” he groaned.
“Not when you’re here twice as much as you should be.” She smiled warmly. “Personally, I’m glad you’re here. It means I’ll be able to force you into subordination. I need my physicians to take care of themselves. I worry about you, my friend.”
He blushed and picked at his sheet. “Thank you, Anna.”
“What can I do, Cas? What can I get you?”
Cas glanced anxiously toward his boyfriend’s empty chair. “Dean?”
“He’s right down the hall, talking to Bobby, Ellen, and Sam.”
“Sam...did you see him? How does he seem?”
“He’s fine. Bobby and Ellen brought him home with them last night. He seemed tired but not unduly stressed. And it’s obvious that Andy is very set on staying by him.”
A soft knock came, and Dean came through, carrying coffee and a foil-wrapped sandwich. “Hey, you’re up,” he smiled. “How’s he doing, Doc?”
“Fever’s broken. I’m about to take him off the heavy narcotics, so he should be more lucid.”
“Awesome. You feel up to a visit? Sammy’s pouting because he didn’t get to see you last night.”
“M’not pouting!” an all-too familiar voice called. It felt so normal Cas could cry with relief.
“Visiting hours don’t start for another half-hour,” Anna hedged, then winked at Cas, “but I think I can make an exception. Given I’ve already bent the rules.”
Cas’s stomach dropped-Dean shouldn’t have been with him. They weren’t spouses, or, in their case, partners with Power of Attorney Agreements. Anna had clearly waved hospital policy in order to keep Dean by his side, and Cas could only hope that no repercussions would come down on her for it.
“Maybe we should wait,” Cas said.
“Don’t be silly.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I don’t want to deal with Sam’s sad-face. I’ll risk a tongue-lashing if I can avoid that.”
“That settles it,” Dean said, stepping aside and holding the door open. “C’mon, Princess.”
“Shutup, jerk.” Sam came through, a shy smile on his face and a blanket in his arms. “Hi, Cas.”
“Hello, Sam.” The younger Winchester seemed hesitant, so Cas extended an arm, relieved when the younger Winchester leaned forward into a hug. Anna quietly stepped out of the room, leaving the three of them alone. “I brought you a good blanket, because I know how cold hospitals get,” Sam explained.“Thank you,” Cas sighed, accepting the bundle. "This will make the week a little easier.”
“A week?”
Dean nodded. “There was infection-the appendix ruptured. So he’ll be a week here and a week in bed at home.”
Sam’s face fell. “You didn’t tell me that last night.”
“I didn’t know all the details last night.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wanted you to feel okay getting some rest.”
The younger Winchester’s eyes grew damp. “That’s not fair! I was fine through your injury, through New York, even through Andy getting shot! I was calm last night-I just wanted to know what was happening.”
“Sammy-”
“Don’t Sammy me!”
“Sam, listen-I just needed you to be okay so I could-”
“Shutup, Dean. Shut.Up.”
Dean looked lost--and so, so tired. Cas reached out and took Sam’s arm, giving it a gentle tug. “Sam,” he murmured. “When emergencies happen, there’s no script. People just do the best they can under stress. You took wonderful care of me last night, getting everything together.”
“I don’t want to use,” he said, rubbing quickly at his eyes. “I just wanted to help. I was worried...but not like before. I didn’t panic, I didn’t hyperventilate, I didn’t even cry.”
“Oh, Sam,” Cas squeezed his friend’s hand. Dean crossed the room then and put an arm around his brother.
“M’sorry,” he murmured. “I was freaked out, okay? I didn’t know what was wrong or what was going to happen. I just wanted you both to be alright.”
Sam nodded. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It was...hard. Last night.”
“I’m sorry. To both of you,” Cas said. “I was negligent.”
“And I’ll say sorry so I don’t feel left out,” Dean said with an eye-roll. “Now can we eat, please? Coffee up? I’m on death’s door here.”
“Dean, shh!”
“What?”
“This is a hospital.”
“So?”
“So, there are people who are on ‘Death’s Door,’” he whispered.
“Well my growling stomach isn’t going to lead them into the light, Sammy.”
"Cas!" Sam pleaded.
“I am hungry, Sam,” Cas said. "Would you mind getting me some Jello from the cafeteria?"
"Sure! What color?"
"Red or orange."
Sam hurried off, clearly pleased to be helping. Dean slumped down in his chair, unwrapped his sandwich, and took a gigantic, disgusting bite.
"Mmmm," he grumbled, making strange smacking and grunting sounds as he stared, lovingly, at his sandwich. He glanced at Cas and did a double-take. "Wha'?"
“Is that sausage and bacon?”
“And cheese, and eggs, and butter, and biscuits. It’s an orgasm in my mouth. And before you start, you nearly gave me a heart-attack, so I’m gonna enjoy my cholesterol, alright?”
"Do you know who I almost married?"
Dean gave him a big, close-mouthed grin. "Shu'up. M'your knight in shining a'mor."
"Every young man's dream," he sighed, but when Dean looked at him again, his chest filled with warmth and he smiled lovingly back.
* * *
Bobby and Ellen came by with homemade sandwiches for lunch and some rice pudding for Cas. Soon after they left, Andy and his Dad came by, Andy bearing flowers and Jack a stack of magazines that included-to Cas's horror-a gay pornographic pubilcation.
"Don't know if that's a good one or not," he said when Cas blanched. Andy and Sam turned beet red: Dean nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "I said 'look, say the Ladies weren't my thing. Say I'm looking toward the other side of the street. Say on that other side I see a dude who does NOT look like a Lady. Say I see that dude and I say, 'I'm crossing this street.' Say I cross that street and I'm standing there looking at this dude. What would he look like?"
"For the love of God, Pop," Andy moaned.
Soon after they left, Peter called, and spent a good half-hour chatting Cas's ear off, although Cas couldn't understand what about. He understood enough to know that his friend was claiming credit for knowing this was coming, and intended to name whatever it was Balthazar's Omen, and that he felt he'd make an excellent bronze bust.
When Cas couldn't take it anymore he passed the phone to Sam, who looked equally baffled until Peter abruptly said goodbye and hung-up.
"Do you think he was drinking?" he asked, resting the room phone back in its bed.
"Sadly...no," Cas sighed.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet. Cas didn't feel like eating much other than Ellen's pudding and a bit of Jello. Sam and Dean were in the middle of a spoon-battle for the whipped-cream left over when a quiet knock came, and Dean said "hey Sammy, get that--" and successfully swiped the last bite of Cool-Whip as the door swung inward.
What appeared were balloons: an endless parade of balloons. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, silver, all stamped with GET WELL SOON!!!
The balloons were followed by giant red, squeaky shoes, yellow and blue pants, red suspenders, a bright blue shirt, and then, finally, tossed aside to reveal Gabriel’s painted white face, with two cheery circles on his cheeks, a fake red nose, and his usual beaming grin.
“GABRIEL’S GET-WELL-SOON-SERVICES, AT YOUR...SERVICES!” he cried.
Sam did a surprising thing: he moved back until he was no longer alongside his brother, but behind him. Cas had only ever seen him do that when John Winchester had made his surpring appearance. Dean glanced from Cas, to Gabe, to Sam, to Gabe, to Cas, like he was in a cartoon.
“The hell?” he finally managed.
“I’m here to spread cheer! Sorry but my kid bro has surgery, I show up, that’s just how I was raised.”
“How did you get here so quickly?” Cas asked.
“I may not be a good one, but I AM a Morgan, Cassie-Sassy. We’ve got planes.” He let go of the balloons, sending a rainbow helium shower up to the ceiling, and squeaked his way around the bed. Sam grabbed his brother’s shirt and hauled them both backward, keeping Dean carefully placed between himself and Gabe. “Hey!” Gabe said.
“Good to-see you,” Dean stumbled, yanked even further away by Sam, whose eyes were huge. Gabe seemed equally confused.
“Sam? Nice to see you when someone isn’t dead.”
“Sure thing, Gabe-Gabriel. Nice. It is. It is nice, I mean. Glad, Cas. Glad Cas is nice. I mean, glad Cas isn’t dead. And that you’re here, that’s...glad too. Nice too.”
Cas and Gabe exchanged a baffled glance, but Dean’s face morphed into one of knowing amusement. “Hey Sammy...this wouldn’t have anything to do with your clown thing, huh?”
“It’s not a clown. It’s just Gabe,” Sam rushed, and started blinking abnormally hard.
“Right. Your buddy. So you wanna let go and say hi?”
“Hi Gabe.” Sam made no move to let go of his brother.
“Hey there, Ace. Sorry, I didn’t know you had a Tim Curry thing.”
“It’s fine,” Sam tried to smile, but the bizarre blinking and timid peering around his big brother’s shoulder completely eliminated any pretese of it being 'fine.' “You, uh...had a good flight?”
“You want me to clean off the makeup? I will.”
Dean grinned back at his brother. “How about it, Sammy? Quick white-face wash, and you’ll be good?”
“You know...while you do that, I think Dean and I should go get coffee. We’ll get some for you too!” Sam smiled, and began to move, dragging his brother with him.
“Seriously, kid? Should we get a crisis counselor in here? If you need a safe room, this is one to talk in. I’ve got a friend whose Uncle used to dress up in Disney Princess drag, give him wine coolers, and-”
“Dean, I need a decaf!” Cas called.
“Black, decaf; Gabe you good with-” Dean stumbled as his brother yanked particularly hard and dragged them out the door, “milk and sugar?”
“Whatever!” Gabe beamed and pulled off his fake nose. “Seriously, it costs more than you think to rent clown gear.”
“What are you doing here, Gabriel?”
“Sam called. He said you needed me.”
“Of course he did,” Cas sighed. Sam’s entire world revolved around the presence or absence of big brother, and he knew it would forever be a hiccup in their bond that Sam couldn’t grasp how Cas had so many, and yet couldn’t call on them.
“Cas...don’t be like that. What happened in New York-”
“Doesn’t stay in New York, you understand? You know how hard it was on Sam to experience that? How hard it was on Dean? On me? Lou could have killed him Gabe! Do you understand that I love him as much as Dean does? Do you understand love at all!”
Cas was screaming by the end and couldn’t bring himself to care. He never let go like that, and at that point, he didn’t care who heard.
“Cas, listen-”
“No, you listen! Sam is my brother too, okay? And Dean...Dean is the closest person to a spouse I’ll ever have. They’re my family, my real, family, because they love and accept me and they don’t have to. And I love them because they’re loyal and good and all we aren’t. All you aren’t.” Cas forced himself to sit upright, although it hurt. “And you don’t care, Gabe!”
“Bro-Cas-I do.” Gabe looked suddenly frantic. “It’s just...with Dad, and everything, I couldn’t-”
“Do anything but drink,” Cas said bitterly. “I get it. I lived with that, Gabe. Not just with Dad, but with Sam and Dean too. But they fought it. They beat it, because they loved me and they loved each other and they wanted to be better for it. That’s not you. That’s not anyone with our last name.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I thought you were different. I thought you wouldn’t judge me. I thought you’d help me. But you’re just like them. Just...go, Gabriel. You shouldn’t have come.”
“You’re being stupid,” Gabe pleaded. “I get you’re mad, but none of us had ever dealt with anything like this before. And yeah, I drink-I don’t have a Dean in my bed, okay? My kid bro lives halfway across the country and the only woman I may have had a thing for is never going to feel the same.”
“Maybe it would be different if you loved her more than booze.”
Gabriel’s face twisted into grief. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
“Just...go find a bar, Gabe. Maybe the one Peter met Crowley in. Bet there’s lots of friends for you there.”
Gabriel’s face crumpled, and he took a few strides forward, then turned, breaths hitching. “You know what? When I said everything was always about you? I was right. You may have done good by these guys, but you haven’t even tried to do any of this by us. If this happened to me, you wouldn’t be calling around for private planes, or renting stupid costumes, or bribing some guy with a helium tank. You can say you’ve been a great brother to Sam, but you’ve just been a pale imitation of Dean. And to the brothers you have...you’re never going to come close to what those two have, and all the things they’ve done for each other. You just left, found a family stronger than ours, and claimed you’d belonged to it the whole time. You’re still a Morgan, little brother. You’re always gonna be. And you said it yourself: what happens in New York doesn’t stay out there. Dad’s dead-and Michael and I can’t protect you or anyone else any longer.”
Cas was too flustered, too stunned, to answer, and by the time he had a half-assembled answer, his brother was gone, leaving Cas watching the balloons bobbing along the ceiling and waiting for the Winchesters to return.
Gabe wasn’t even close to the truth. He couldn’t understand all the things that had driven Cas from home. He couldn’t understand what he’d come to learn, living with Sam and Dean. He could never get what true friendship and family was.
Because you never told him. Any of it. Why you were sad, why you left, how you met Dean, why you met Dean...
Shutup, Cas told that horrid, self-hating part of his brain that always seemed to emerge in his quiet moments, when he was without work, or study, or, later, without a lover. Rachel and Dean had been living, breathing anchors in his darkness, beacons he could retreat to when his world darkened and night fell around it.
Cas closed his eyes and imagined his bed with Dean. He pictured the softness of the mattress, the warmth of the sheets and blankets, the comforter on top, Dean’s gentle breath on his neck and heat at his back. He let the picture penetrate his body, release his tense muscles, and was half asleep when a nurse intruded once more, smiling and apologizing for waking him.
“Your brother’s here to see you,” she said.
Cas put a hand over his eyes. “Gabriel, please, I can’t right now.”
“Hello, Castiel.”
Well, just like Sammy always said: hitting bottom means there’s nowhere to go but up.
“Hello, Michael.”
Part 1 Part 2
Cas felt Dean’s toes slip under his sweat pants and rub lightly at his foot. Dean pushed against his back, snaked an arm around him to rub his stomach, and breathed deliberately into Cas’ ear.
“Morning,” Cas grinned.
“You’re stressing. Quit it.” Cas sighed. “You’re tired,” Dean murmured, and kissed the sensitive spot on his neck. “Let me meet you for dinner, okay?”
Cas felt that familiar, enormous warmth wash over him. He turned, cupped Dean’s face, pushed him back onto the mattress, and wriggled on top of him, kissing his cheeks and nose and lips. Dean smiled and slipped a hand beneath his shirt to rub the bare skin on his back, easing the tension away, flirting with the hem of Cas’ pajama bottoms.
“Relax,” Dean murmured. “You carry too much. Let it go. You’re with me.”
I don’t carry anything compared to you, Cas thought, pressing his face to his boyfriend’s throat. You’re love brought to life.
Something started beeping. Cas’s chest hitched. He knew the sound of a struggling heart when he heard it. He clutched Dean, pushed his face into his throat, listened to the beats. They were regular, they were normal, Dean was okay. Dean had him and Dean loved him and Dean wouldn’t leave him, wouldn’t toss him aside because he didn’t make enough money or wanted to live in a different city or wanted a family, not endless hours of slave-labor. Dean wouldn’t leave him, and Dean wouldn’t die, because Dean couldn’t die, because he couldn’t leave him. And Sam-God, what would Sam do? Dean would never leave Sam, and Sam was fine, so Dean could never leave. He couldn’t lose Dean, he couldn’t, he couldn’t-
Cas jerked away, gasping. Dean was leaning over him, a warm hand on his shoulder, talking softly. “Hey, hey, hey, take it easy,” he soothed. “I gotcha. You with me?”
Cas moaned. “Fuck,” he gasped. Dean’s face lit up.
“Dude, that is the first time you’ve ever-”
“Shutup,” Cas groaned. “I think I’ve died.”
“Nope. Sorry. But you are short an appendix.”
Cas remembered bits and pieces-of being wheeled into the admittance area to triage, Anna arriving with her gentle smile and rock-solid presence, a few quick presses on his side, an ultrasound order, and then his clothes being cut away, and replaced with a gown and tissue before a mask covered his face and he’d gone under.
“Dean?”
His boyfriend’s face softened. “Hey. Easy does it, buddy. You hurting?”
“Just...lost.”
“Yeah, well, you’re drugged to the gills.”
Cas closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself. “Sam?” he managed.
“In the waiting room with Bobby, Ellen, and Andy. He’s fine.” Dean rubbed Cas’ shoulder. “So are you.”
Cas closed his eyes, let himself indulge in Dean’s warm, wide hand pressed against the top of his head.
“M’sorry,” he managed. “I should’ve known-”
“No, but you should’ve told me you felt like hell.” Cas looked up to see Dean’s obvious question of why didn’t you? and swallowed hard.
“I thought...it was no big deal. It’d be gone in the morning.”
“Right,” Dean said, his eyes warm and soft, mouth cocked in a gentle smile. “And it had nothing to do with the fear that maybe Sammy and me would freak?”
“No,” Cas pleaded, gripping Dean’s arm. “I knew you’d be there for me. If I needed it. I just-”
“Didn’t think you needed it,” Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Cas gripped his arm tighter, and Dean laid a hand over his and squeezed. “S’okay, bud. I can’t be mad at you when I’d of done the same.”
Cas shared a look with him, all warm eyes and sweetness, and tried to clear his head. “You said Andy’s here?”
“Yeah. Sam texted him, because they’re co-depedent, and Andy didn’t have his phone on silent and it woke him up. And I texted Bobby and Ellen, and Bobby was up and watching some dumb TV show, so they swung by.”
“Why?”
“To make sure you were alright.”
“I mean, why did you text Bobby and Ellen?”
“Because that’s what family does, Cas.”
The silence hung there. Dean squeezed his hand as Cas picked at the hospital blanket.
“Do you want me to call-”
“No.”
“I think they’d want to know.”
“They don’t.”
“Cas-”
“Dean! I said no.”
Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. I hear you.” He got to his feet, and Cas felt the room sway.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“To let everyone know you’re awake, and get a doctor in here.”
“You can push the call button.”
“They’re right down the hall.”
“Just push the call button.” Cas felt his eyes stinging once more. “Please?”
His boyfriend took his hand, and squeezed gently. “Sure thing, bud. Whatever you need.”
* * *
Anna was unusually stern, arms crossed in front of her. “I don’t want to sound patronizing, Cas, but you are very, very lucky this wasn’t worse. By the time we got in there, there was a rupture halfway down the bone. If you’d gotten here twenty minutes later the entire thing would have been gone, and you would be looking at a minimum of month’s stay, and that’s assuming we saved you. You should have come in earlier, Cas, and you should have known you needed to.”
“I should of made him,” Dean said before Cas could answer.
“Both of you,” Cas snapped, “are wrong. Anna, you know as well as I do that it’s difficult to diagnosis appendicitis. And Dean, I’m not a child.”
“You’re acting like one,” Anna scolded, “one who doesn’t want to take his medicine. Or admit he needs his medicine.”
Cas blushed. “I just thought it was a flu.”
Anna’s face softened. “I understand, really. You just scared me, that’s all. You scared a lot of people. Doctors are the worse patients, for sure.” She made a note on his chart. “You’re going to be in for at least a week, and on bed-rest at home for at least a week more. I want you to rest, Cas-no calling in, no Blackberry, no worrying about New York, no family meetings at Rosemount. Watch TV, drink lots of fluids, take naps, and let yourself heal. Understood?”
Cas sighed, exhaustion rocking through him. “Thank you, Anna,” he managed. She smiled and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I’m very, very glad that you’re okay, Cas. I’m going to get you up and fighting as quick as I can. It will be easier if you don’t fight us.” She cast a warm gaze at Dean. “I’m counting on you, Winchester.”
“I’m miles ahead of you, sweetheart.”
“Get a room,” Cas grumbled, his eyes drifting closed.
“You’re mean on anesthesia,” Dean said. Anna gave Cas’s shoulder a gentle pat.
“I’ll let everyone out there know you’re alright. Get some sleep.”
Cas didn't have the strength to argue.
* * *
Cas drifted for awhile: how people slept in hospitals, he could never understand. But he had infinite more empathy now for cranky patients.
Well-meaning, hard-working nurses popped in nearly every twenty-minutes. Some took notes, some spoke with Dean, and some roused him from his half-slumber to ask questions, examine his stitched side, or offer him pain and sleep aids. Even without them, the lights were far too bright, the bed too lumpy, narrow, and horribly devoid of Dean for Cas to truly relax into. His side ached, his fever spiked, and although he couldn’t think quite clearly yet, he was already beginning to worry about everything he’d fallen behind on, and would only fall further in the oncoming weeks.
He was somewhere between dreaming and wake when something cold hit his forehead and early sent him out of his skin, and Dean coaxed “easy, easy,” and appeared in his vision. “Your temp’s up again, bud.”
“Dean,” he mumbled.
“One and only.”
Even Cas wasn’t sure what he said next, but it didn’t matter: he felt the pads of Dean’s fingertips on his too-hot forehead, the rhythmic smoothing of his hair, the warm hand over his own.
And, even more importantly, he heard his boyfried’s voice humming, than singing, than the nearly-silent television. His side began to ache and throb, and a nurse came by at least three times before he woke covered in sweat, with a dry-mouth and a clearer head.
“Your fever’s breaking,” Anna said, and Cas started to find her back at his side. “You had me a little worried there, Cas.”
“M’so...high?”
She chuckled. “Not doing it for you, huh?”
“Don’ know why people like this.”
“Good. One less thing for me to worry about with you.” She moved the blankets aside and examined his stitches. He felt heat fill his face, finally aware enough to be embarrassed. “I’m going to take you off the heavy-duty stuff and pump up your antibodies. The key here is going to be rest, Cas: no driving, no lifting, no gardening or anything for the next few weeks. I mean it. You land back in here with torn stitches or muscles and I’ll put you on a forced sabbatical. Don’t test me.”
“I’ve been out too much,” he groaned.
“Not when you’re here twice as much as you should be.” She smiled warmly. “Personally, I’m glad you’re here. It means I’ll be able to force you into subordination. I need my physicians to take care of themselves. I worry about you, my friend.”
He blushed and picked at his sheet. “Thank you, Anna.”
“What can I do, Cas? What can I get you?”
Cas glanced anxiously toward his boyfriend’s empty chair. “Dean?”
“He’s right down the hall, talking to Bobby, Ellen, and Sam.”
“Sam...did you see him? How does he seem?”
“He’s fine. Bobby and Ellen brought him home with them last night. He seemed tired but not unduly stressed. And it’s obvious that Andy is very set on staying by him.”
A soft knock came, and Dean came through, carrying coffee and a foil-wrapped sandwich. “Hey, you’re up,” he smiled. “How’s he doing, Doc?”
“Fever’s broken. I’m about to take him off the heavy narcotics, so he should be more lucid.”
“Awesome. You feel up to a visit? Sammy’s pouting because he didn’t get to see you last night.”
“M’not pouting!” an all-too familiar voice called. It felt so normal Cas could cry with relief.
“Visiting hours don’t start for another half-hour,” Anna hedged, then winked at Cas, “but I think I can make an exception. Given I’ve already bent the rules.”
Cas’s stomach dropped-Dean shouldn’t have been with him. They weren’t spouses, or, in their case, partners with Power of Attorney Agreements. Anna had clearly waved hospital policy in order to keep Dean by his side, and Cas could only hope that no repercussions would come down on her for it.
“Maybe we should wait,” Cas said.
“Don’t be silly.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I don’t want to deal with Sam’s sad-face. I’ll risk a tongue-lashing if I can avoid that.”
“That settles it,” Dean said, stepping aside and holding the door open. “C’mon, Princess.”
“Shutup, jerk.” Sam came through, a shy smile on his face and a blanket in his arms. “Hi, Cas.”
“Hello, Sam.” The younger Winchester seemed hesitant, so Cas extended an arm, relieved when the younger Winchester leaned forward into a hug. Anna quietly stepped out of the room, leaving the three of them alone. “I brought you a good blanket, because I know how cold hospitals get,” Sam explained.“Thank you,” Cas sighed, accepting the bundle. "This will make the week a little easier.”
“A week?”
Dean nodded. “There was infection-the appendix ruptured. So he’ll be a week here and a week in bed at home.”
Sam’s face fell. “You didn’t tell me that last night.”
“I didn’t know all the details last night.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wanted you to feel okay getting some rest.”
The younger Winchester’s eyes grew damp. “That’s not fair! I was fine through your injury, through New York, even through Andy getting shot! I was calm last night-I just wanted to know what was happening.”
“Sammy-”
“Don’t Sammy me!”
“Sam, listen-I just needed you to be okay so I could-”
“Shutup, Dean. Shut.Up.”
Dean looked lost--and so, so tired. Cas reached out and took Sam’s arm, giving it a gentle tug. “Sam,” he murmured. “When emergencies happen, there’s no script. People just do the best they can under stress. You took wonderful care of me last night, getting everything together.”
“I don’t want to use,” he said, rubbing quickly at his eyes. “I just wanted to help. I was worried...but not like before. I didn’t panic, I didn’t hyperventilate, I didn’t even cry.”
“Oh, Sam,” Cas squeezed his friend’s hand. Dean crossed the room then and put an arm around his brother.
“M’sorry,” he murmured. “I was freaked out, okay? I didn’t know what was wrong or what was going to happen. I just wanted you both to be alright.”
Sam nodded. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It was...hard. Last night.”
“I’m sorry. To both of you,” Cas said. “I was negligent.”
“And I’ll say sorry so I don’t feel left out,” Dean said with an eye-roll. “Now can we eat, please? Coffee up? I’m on death’s door here.”
“Dean, shh!”
“What?”
“This is a hospital.”
“So?”
“So, there are people who are on ‘Death’s Door,’” he whispered.
“Well my growling stomach isn’t going to lead them into the light, Sammy.”
"Cas!" Sam pleaded.
“I am hungry, Sam,” Cas said. "Would you mind getting me some Jello from the cafeteria?"
"Sure! What color?"
"Red or orange."
Sam hurried off, clearly pleased to be helping. Dean slumped down in his chair, unwrapped his sandwich, and took a gigantic, disgusting bite.
"Mmmm," he grumbled, making strange smacking and grunting sounds as he stared, lovingly, at his sandwich. He glanced at Cas and did a double-take. "Wha'?"
“Is that sausage and bacon?”
“And cheese, and eggs, and butter, and biscuits. It’s an orgasm in my mouth. And before you start, you nearly gave me a heart-attack, so I’m gonna enjoy my cholesterol, alright?”
"Do you know who I almost married?"
Dean gave him a big, close-mouthed grin. "Shu'up. M'your knight in shining a'mor."
"Every young man's dream," he sighed, but when Dean looked at him again, his chest filled with warmth and he smiled lovingly back.
* * *
Bobby and Ellen came by with homemade sandwiches for lunch and some rice pudding for Cas. Soon after they left, Andy and his Dad came by, Andy bearing flowers and Jack a stack of magazines that included-to Cas's horror-a gay pornographic pubilcation.
"Don't know if that's a good one or not," he said when Cas blanched. Andy and Sam turned beet red: Dean nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "I said 'look, say the Ladies weren't my thing. Say I'm looking toward the other side of the street. Say on that other side I see a dude who does NOT look like a Lady. Say I see that dude and I say, 'I'm crossing this street.' Say I cross that street and I'm standing there looking at this dude. What would he look like?"
"For the love of God, Pop," Andy moaned.
Soon after they left, Peter called, and spent a good half-hour chatting Cas's ear off, although Cas couldn't understand what about. He understood enough to know that his friend was claiming credit for knowing this was coming, and intended to name whatever it was Balthazar's Omen, and that he felt he'd make an excellent bronze bust.
When Cas couldn't take it anymore he passed the phone to Sam, who looked equally baffled until Peter abruptly said goodbye and hung-up.
"Do you think he was drinking?" he asked, resting the room phone back in its bed.
"Sadly...no," Cas sighed.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet. Cas didn't feel like eating much other than Ellen's pudding and a bit of Jello. Sam and Dean were in the middle of a spoon-battle for the whipped-cream left over when a quiet knock came, and Dean said "hey Sammy, get that--" and successfully swiped the last bite of Cool-Whip as the door swung inward.
What appeared were balloons: an endless parade of balloons. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, silver, all stamped with GET WELL SOON!!!
The balloons were followed by giant red, squeaky shoes, yellow and blue pants, red suspenders, a bright blue shirt, and then, finally, tossed aside to reveal Gabriel’s painted white face, with two cheery circles on his cheeks, a fake red nose, and his usual beaming grin.
“GABRIEL’S GET-WELL-SOON-SERVICES, AT YOUR...SERVICES!” he cried.
Sam did a surprising thing: he moved back until he was no longer alongside his brother, but behind him. Cas had only ever seen him do that when John Winchester had made his surpring appearance. Dean glanced from Cas, to Gabe, to Sam, to Gabe, to Cas, like he was in a cartoon.
“The hell?” he finally managed.
“I’m here to spread cheer! Sorry but my kid bro has surgery, I show up, that’s just how I was raised.”
“How did you get here so quickly?” Cas asked.
“I may not be a good one, but I AM a Morgan, Cassie-Sassy. We’ve got planes.” He let go of the balloons, sending a rainbow helium shower up to the ceiling, and squeaked his way around the bed. Sam grabbed his brother’s shirt and hauled them both backward, keeping Dean carefully placed between himself and Gabe. “Hey!” Gabe said.
“Good to-see you,” Dean stumbled, yanked even further away by Sam, whose eyes were huge. Gabe seemed equally confused.
“Sam? Nice to see you when someone isn’t dead.”
“Sure thing, Gabe-Gabriel. Nice. It is. It is nice, I mean. Glad, Cas. Glad Cas is nice. I mean, glad Cas isn’t dead. And that you’re here, that’s...glad too. Nice too.”
Cas and Gabe exchanged a baffled glance, but Dean’s face morphed into one of knowing amusement. “Hey Sammy...this wouldn’t have anything to do with your clown thing, huh?”
“It’s not a clown. It’s just Gabe,” Sam rushed, and started blinking abnormally hard.
“Right. Your buddy. So you wanna let go and say hi?”
“Hi Gabe.” Sam made no move to let go of his brother.
“Hey there, Ace. Sorry, I didn’t know you had a Tim Curry thing.”
“It’s fine,” Sam tried to smile, but the bizarre blinking and timid peering around his big brother’s shoulder completely eliminated any pretese of it being 'fine.' “You, uh...had a good flight?”
“You want me to clean off the makeup? I will.”
Dean grinned back at his brother. “How about it, Sammy? Quick white-face wash, and you’ll be good?”
“You know...while you do that, I think Dean and I should go get coffee. We’ll get some for you too!” Sam smiled, and began to move, dragging his brother with him.
“Seriously, kid? Should we get a crisis counselor in here? If you need a safe room, this is one to talk in. I’ve got a friend whose Uncle used to dress up in Disney Princess drag, give him wine coolers, and-”
“Dean, I need a decaf!” Cas called.
“Black, decaf; Gabe you good with-” Dean stumbled as his brother yanked particularly hard and dragged them out the door, “milk and sugar?”
“Whatever!” Gabe beamed and pulled off his fake nose. “Seriously, it costs more than you think to rent clown gear.”
“What are you doing here, Gabriel?”
“Sam called. He said you needed me.”
“Of course he did,” Cas sighed. Sam’s entire world revolved around the presence or absence of big brother, and he knew it would forever be a hiccup in their bond that Sam couldn’t grasp how Cas had so many, and yet couldn’t call on them.
“Cas...don’t be like that. What happened in New York-”
“Doesn’t stay in New York, you understand? You know how hard it was on Sam to experience that? How hard it was on Dean? On me? Lou could have killed him Gabe! Do you understand that I love him as much as Dean does? Do you understand love at all!”
Cas was screaming by the end and couldn’t bring himself to care. He never let go like that, and at that point, he didn’t care who heard.
“Cas, listen-”
“No, you listen! Sam is my brother too, okay? And Dean...Dean is the closest person to a spouse I’ll ever have. They’re my family, my real, family, because they love and accept me and they don’t have to. And I love them because they’re loyal and good and all we aren’t. All you aren’t.” Cas forced himself to sit upright, although it hurt. “And you don’t care, Gabe!”
“Bro-Cas-I do.” Gabe looked suddenly frantic. “It’s just...with Dad, and everything, I couldn’t-”
“Do anything but drink,” Cas said bitterly. “I get it. I lived with that, Gabe. Not just with Dad, but with Sam and Dean too. But they fought it. They beat it, because they loved me and they loved each other and they wanted to be better for it. That’s not you. That’s not anyone with our last name.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I thought you were different. I thought you wouldn’t judge me. I thought you’d help me. But you’re just like them. Just...go, Gabriel. You shouldn’t have come.”
“You’re being stupid,” Gabe pleaded. “I get you’re mad, but none of us had ever dealt with anything like this before. And yeah, I drink-I don’t have a Dean in my bed, okay? My kid bro lives halfway across the country and the only woman I may have had a thing for is never going to feel the same.”
“Maybe it would be different if you loved her more than booze.”
Gabriel’s face twisted into grief. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
“Just...go find a bar, Gabe. Maybe the one Peter met Crowley in. Bet there’s lots of friends for you there.”
Gabriel’s face crumpled, and he took a few strides forward, then turned, breaths hitching. “You know what? When I said everything was always about you? I was right. You may have done good by these guys, but you haven’t even tried to do any of this by us. If this happened to me, you wouldn’t be calling around for private planes, or renting stupid costumes, or bribing some guy with a helium tank. You can say you’ve been a great brother to Sam, but you’ve just been a pale imitation of Dean. And to the brothers you have...you’re never going to come close to what those two have, and all the things they’ve done for each other. You just left, found a family stronger than ours, and claimed you’d belonged to it the whole time. You’re still a Morgan, little brother. You’re always gonna be. And you said it yourself: what happens in New York doesn’t stay out there. Dad’s dead-and Michael and I can’t protect you or anyone else any longer.”
Cas was too flustered, too stunned, to answer, and by the time he had a half-assembled answer, his brother was gone, leaving Cas watching the balloons bobbing along the ceiling and waiting for the Winchesters to return.
Gabe wasn’t even close to the truth. He couldn’t understand all the things that had driven Cas from home. He couldn’t understand what he’d come to learn, living with Sam and Dean. He could never get what true friendship and family was.
Because you never told him. Any of it. Why you were sad, why you left, how you met Dean, why you met Dean...
Shutup, Cas told that horrid, self-hating part of his brain that always seemed to emerge in his quiet moments, when he was without work, or study, or, later, without a lover. Rachel and Dean had been living, breathing anchors in his darkness, beacons he could retreat to when his world darkened and night fell around it.
Cas closed his eyes and imagined his bed with Dean. He pictured the softness of the mattress, the warmth of the sheets and blankets, the comforter on top, Dean’s gentle breath on his neck and heat at his back. He let the picture penetrate his body, release his tense muscles, and was half asleep when a nurse intruded once more, smiling and apologizing for waking him.
“Your brother’s here to see you,” she said.
Cas put a hand over his eyes. “Gabriel, please, I can’t right now.”
“Hello, Castiel.”
Well, just like Sammy always said: hitting bottom means there’s nowhere to go but up.
“Hello, Michael.”
Part 1 Part 2