Rebound Tenderness
Yes, I am still here, and still writing, when I can! I'm sort of a real freelance graphic designer, and sort of a struggling, grappling loser...we shall see which prevails! I wasn't sure if this was the next chapter I wanted to post, but then this happened:
Me: I'm not sure if this is right time-wise...I've got a couple stories I'm working on, and I sort of wanted there to be a break-story between the last post and this.
Me: A break-story? You haven't posted anything in like, 150 years, you fat lazy skank. Your readers are drinking with Ash in heaven and your old ass is wondering if there's enough time between posts?
Me: .....shutup.
So...here is part one! Please enjoy! :D
P.S. My stupid "n" key on my poor, ancient laptop, is being super tempermental. So if you see egregious typos, please let me know??? :D
P.P.S. "DOMA," or the 'Defense of Marriage Act,' is a movement to ban same-sex marriage in the US Constitution. On June 26, 2013 (which says how long I've been writing this @#$# chapter), the law was FINALLY ruled unconstitutional. Yeah, there's a lot we Americans get wrong, but I WILL say, that we have changed at a crazy rate compared to other places...and I have faith we'll keep pushing forward. With that, I'm done being all serious and hope you enjoy some fic :D
* * *
Rebound tenderness is a clinical sign that a doctor or other health care provider may detect in physical examination of a patient's abdomen. It refers to pain upon removal of pressure rather than application of it.
“What’s electric again?” Dean asked. Cas glanced to the bill at his right.
“218.88.”
Dean shook his head. “That’s it. We’re turning the porch light off when we go to bed. We don’t want anyone coming by anyway.”
Cas smiled as he wrote out his half of the check. Strange as it sounded, he rather enjoyed paying bills with Dean: the two of them sitting down together at their kitchen table, the monthly costs of their home spread around them. Dean always asked him he felt about everything: really, how he felt about their lives. He always told Cas he was to take less shifts, and Cas always noticed stray bits of overtime Dean tried to sneak in, so he could point and say that he was more than capable of taking care of them, so Cas should try and take it easy: Cas loved him all the more for it. Paying bills was the rare, quiet time when they took inventory of every aspect of their lives, and when they operated, in full, as partners on every level possible.
Even if, after all this time, having separate checking accounts seemed a little unnecessary.
“Dude...you know I’m all about DIY,” Dean said, sighing at their water bill, “but I’ve done all I know how with that damn shower and it’s still running.”
“I’ll ask Sam if he’ll be home at all during the day this week, to let a plumber in.”
“Don’t you think it’s a conspiracy though? I mean, we only pay for hot water, and our shower is mysteriously only leaking hot water?”
“Who would be after the extra two dollars a month for our leaky shower?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out, and I’m going to write to the paper about it. In all caps. And bold.”
Cas laughed as he set up another check, than felt a sudden roll of nausea that cut off his breath. Dean glanced at him, then did a double-take, frowning.
“Cas?”
“I’m alright.”
“You’re kinda white.”
“I’m fine.” The wave passed, and Cas breathed a long, slow exhale. “I may have eaten something...off.”
“That better not be a crack about my cooking.”
“Of course not,” Cas smiled. Dean had made them stir-fry with an inordinate amount of vegetables, which Cas knew was just for him. Food was a big way Dean showed love, and watching his boyfriend eat carrots and string-beans and snow peas and chicken that wasn’t soaked in fat-and pretending to love it-meant more than a thousand bouquets ever could.
“You need to sleep more. You shouldn’t have had to go back on shift so soon.”
“I’ve taken more time off than anyone else. I’m lucky not to be demoted.”
“So? Peter spends his free time at the bar. You took it off for family. You deserve a break.”
“Dean, I’m alright.”
“This is my fault,” Dean sighed. “I’m sorry, I should have been home with you this week. I knew you wouldn’t sleep if I wasn’t.”
“I did sleep.”
“Y’know what-screw Jay. I can go work for Bobby. Or some other garage. It’s not the only one in town. I’ll call him and tell him-”
“Dean for all that’s holy, I am fine.” He grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and squeezed. “It’s nothing. I’m a little run down, but that’s no fault of yours.”
“You sure?”
“I’m a doctor.”
Dean nodded. “Okay. Let’s get this done, call it an early night.”
“Sounds good.” Cas grabbed the next paper in their stack. “Cell phones.”
“God bless you, family plan.”
“I agree. We’ve saved nearly fifty dollars this month.”
“Like I said.”
Just then the front door opened, and Sam hollered “Hey, guys!” with unusual exuberance.
“In here!” Dean called, and Sam came flying in.
“What do you think? It’s amazing, right?” Sam he asked, near bursting with pride. Dean and Cas exchanged a you following? ‘cause I’m not glance, before Dean shrugged.
“Sorry...did we miss a text or something?” he asked.
“No,” Sam beamed, “what do you think of the news?”
Cas and Dean exchanged a baffled glance.
“The news!”
Cas and Dean stared at him.
“DOMA!”
Cas and Dean stared at him.
“The Supreme Court!”
Cas and Dean stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“Sammy, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean finally said.
“Oh for-Cas, you gotta know!”
Cas glanced to Dean, who looked at him blankly. “I’m...behind on the news.”
Sam’s joy faded. “Really? It’s been months we’ve been waiting.”
“For?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“For the verdict!”
“Of what?”
“DOMA!”
Dean shook his head and looked to Cas. “I feel like I’m insane.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following you either, Sam,” Cas sighed. His stomach was rolling again, and it was taking a lot of work to keep his face straight.
“‘DOMA’ is ‘The Defense of Marriage Act.’ The movement to ban same-sex marriage in the Constitution. Today, the Supreme Court said it was unconstitutional: essentially, that limiting marriage to one man and one woman denies citizens their rights.”
“Great. So you and Andy can shop for rings.”
“It’s a huge victory-it’s the highest court in America saying that gay and lesbian couples deserve equal rights to marriage. Every state that acknowledges equal marriage now has the Federal backing, and Federal benefits. This is...huge!” Sam looked beside himself with happiness. “This is the next Civil Rights movement, and we’re living it!”
“Fine. But Cas and I haven’t budgeted more than $10,000 for your wedding, so Andy’s Dad’ll have to kick in the rest.”
“Oh for...” Sam sighed and crossed his arms. “You know what you two are? Homophobic.”
“You know what you are? A pain in the ass!”
Sam’s phone blared “Purple Haze,” Andy’s ringtone, and the younger Winchester rolled his eyes and scooped his cell out of his back pocket. “I know, I heard!” he answered.
“Tell your boy we give our blessing!” Dean called. Sam flipped his brother off and headed into the living room, Andy’s exuberant voice sounding through the speaker.
“They really would make adorable children,” Cas said, picturing a pack of floppy- haired, puppy-eyed, genius little kids. Dean huffed a laugh.
“Dude, no pregnancy is one of our perks. Don’t you and your docs go tweaking that.”
They passed the rest of the evening as normal: finished the bills, joined Sam for some TV, and got ready for bed. Cas gave Sam his meds and let him and Dean chat for a few minutes alone. He took the time to take two Aspirin and splash some cool water on his face, hoping he really wasn’t coming down with anything. As loving as Anna was, he couldn’t imagine her tolerating his endless need for time off to deal with family drama forever.
Lying in bed, waiting for Dean, Sam’s words came back to him. Although chronically behind on Time, he wasn’t so out of the news loop to know that marriage equality was gaining footing at an alarming rate. If Sam did have children, there was a good chance they’d grow up where was no marriage and ‘gay-marriage,’ but one name for one act, whoever it was for.
Since Dean refused to identify as gay (or straight, or bi, or anything other than Dean), and Cas refused to discuss anything approaching romance with anyone other than Dean (and, on the rare occasion, to at least reassure Sam they were happy), their chances of meeting other same-sex couples was pretty much zero. And Cas was fine with that-he liked the comfortable friendship they shared in public and the privacy they both valued surrounding their intimate life.
“Kid is ready to drench himself in glitter and dance in a rainbow parade,” Dean snorted. Cas admired his boyfriend in his navy t-shirt and matching pajama bottoms. Dean paused to pull of the shirt before sliding into bed, leaning over to press a quick kiss on his boyfriend’s mouth, a habit Cas had come to associate with it’s just us now.
Sometimes Cas couldn’t believe just how Dean had any humility at all, looking like he did. As blindly handsome as he was, he didn’t seem to take notice of his own attractiveness, unless he was recounting how he used it to distract someone long enough for him to snag cash or something Sam needed, back in the days before full-time employment.
Cas settled on his side, taking a moment to steady his stomach as it rolled yet again. “Do you think there’s something of merit to what Sam said?”
“My gut reaction is to say no...but for your sake, I’ll admit I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not saying we do anything as extreme of those other couples, but...how do you feel about merging checking accounts?”
Dean stiffened. “What’s wrong with how things are?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just...wouldn’t it be nice to write one check, per bill, every month?”
“That would mean you were paying for pretty much all of it.”
“Of course it doesn’t: it would be joined.”
“You make about five times what I do. This makes us even.”
“Dean,” Cas scooted closer, ignoring the sudden objection in his side, and laid a hand over his boyfriend’s heart. “I understand you want us to be equals...but that has always hinged on your budget, not mine. Do you realize that isn’t equal?”
“When it comes to money...we’ll never be close to equals. I know that. But this is the closest we can be.”
“But it’s not.” Cas rubbed his thumb over Dean’s heart. “We could really deal with our incomes as one. Regardless of what we make individually. I understand you have reservations. But I also need you to know that, in my estate planning, I fully intend to leave you the rights to everything: including my finances. And there will be a separate account for Sam, to insure that his health is always provided for.”
“Stop it. I don’t want to talk about wills and crap.”
“This is important to me.”
Dean sighed, caught Cas’s hand, and rolled sideways to face him. “Cas, I don’t want your money. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with all that stuff.”
“I don’t think that’s what bothers you,” Cas said, doing his best to keep his voice light and soft. “I think you worry that people will think that’s why you’re with me.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have a problem calling me your boyfriend, or partner.”
Dean’s face morphed into one of shock. “That’s what you think?”
“It’s okay-”
“No, it’s not. It has nothing to do with you. I’ve always been that way. Girlfriend and boyfriend seem so juvenile, and partner seems so formal and businessesy, and everything else feels too contrived.” Dean propped himself up. “Is this about the whole gay-marriage thing? Am I gonna have to put a ring on it?”
Cas had a flash of him and Dean in tuxes, standing under an archway, and felt his stomach roll again. It was so far away from the relaxed, friendly affection he and Dean shared-and the tender, more loving moments they kept to their bed-he couldn’t imagine them even pretending that was natural. Though he’d believed he wanted to marry Rachel, he’d dreaded the idea of a ceremony: and he’d forced a smile through hers, hating the endless photographs and handshakes and cues he had to remember.
“No, Dean,” he said, propping himself up. “I’m happy with how things are. But...with everything that’s happened, with my Father and the estate, I’ve realized this is something we have to deal with. I’m wealthy, Dean, and if I were to die first, I’d want you and Sam to be fully provided for.”
“You’re not going to die first.”
“We can’t know that.”
“I do.” Dean flopped back down. “If there’s anything I’ve earned in this life, it’s the right to not have to live without you or Sammy. I’m going to go first.”
Cas felt a sudden emptying of his insides, dread overwhelming him. “You can’t,” he pleaded, ignoring the physical pull in his gut as he leaned forward and grabbed his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Don’t talk like that.”
“We got time.” Dean reached up and laid a hand on the side of his face. “Don’t worry.”
“Then why are you saying this? Why do you get to be first?”
“Because I’m the weakest,” he murmured, pushing Cas’s hair behind his ear. “You and Sammy, you can power through anything.”
“You’re saying this like it’s fact.”
“It’s instinct.” Dean reached up and pulled him down against his shoulder. “I’m just trying to say...we don’t have to make these decisions tonight. And the money...that doesn’t have to be a factor.”
“But you’re making all these decisions without me.”
“I don’t think I can be of any use when it comes to managing money. I’ve spent my whole life clawing to keep the power on.”
Cas felt his eyes burn a bit, sat up, ignoring another twinge in his side, pulled himself on top of his boyfriend, and kissed him like this was, in fact, their last night together. “I don’t want to be without you,” he hissed, pulling back to stare at him, pinning Dean’s wrists. “You don’t get to decide I will be.”
Dean’s eyes softened, and he relaxed beneath him. “Let’s just leave it?”
“Tell me you don’t get to leave me.”
“I don’t get to leave you.”
“You don’t get to decide that I’ll be without you.”
“I don’t get to decide you’ll be without me.”
In the back of Cas’s mind, he realized it was surprising just how easy it was to get Dean to give in. And for the first time in their years together, he finally understood a bit about what it was Dean had loved about Gordon: he’d let Dean release all his responsibility. Dean carried so much for so many-Cas included-without complaint, and without a thought of his own well being. He, more than anyone, deserved the release of responsibility.
“Lie still,” Cas commanded, “and think only of a long life. With me.” And then he moved down his boyfriend’s chest and beneath their covers.
* * *
Cas’s stomach didn’t improve the next day. He managed to get down some toast and a bit of eggs, quickly tossing the remains while Dean was busy talking at Sam about their schedules. Cas patted Dean on the back, squeezed Sam’s shoulder, and took off, Sam’s protest of “Dean!” and Dean’s mimic of “Sam!” drifting after him.
The drive in only ratcheted up his nausea, every curve seemingly designed to bring the fire in his gut further and further up into his chest. He made it through a full round on the floor before he needed to pause and splash cold water on his face, lean against the wall, and do some deep breathing.
He didn’t make it through round two.
On his knees in the physician’s bathroom, the little bit of toast came flying up, along with, he was sure, some remnants of Dean’s vegetable stir-fry.
He closed his eyes, leaned against his hand, and panted. He shouldn’t be at work: he knew that. But he’d taken too much time as it was. It seemed like every other week, someone was having to cover him for something, all of it personal. To take more time off...
Cas vomited for the third time. His gut ached, his eyes were running, and he felt a stupid, childish longing for Dean to rub his back and murmur like he had during Cas’s last bought with stomach flu, during ‘The Unfortunate Weekend,’ when he and Sam seemed dead-set on emptying their bodies of any and all fluids.
“Ew,” a familiar voice chirped from behind him.
“Some doctor you are,” Cas gasped, sweat running down his forehead.
“Pediatrician. Kids can’t physically produce that much bile.”
“Shutup,” Cas moaned.
“Seriously, mate, you best get home.”
“Anna will kill me.”
“She’s more likely to kill you if you walk around patients while sick yourself.”
“I’ve taken too many days.” Cas slumped back against the stall and wiped his mouth on his lab coat. “I can’t lose this job. This is the only hospital reasonably near Dean’s garage.”
“Anna isn’t going to send a Morgan to the showers.”
Cas’s stomach rolled again. “God.”
“Seriously,” Peter said, crouching outside the door. “Hold still.”
“What-” he startled as a cold metal object snuck into his ear. He tried to duck away, but his friend’s hand blocked his exit.
“Hold still, little man, and I’ll give you a Euro.”
“I’ve been to Europe.”
“Then hold still because ,I said so.” Cas heard a beep and Peter withdrew the thermometer. “101.4. Not life-threatening, but on the wrong side of normal.”
“I must have eaten something...off,” Cas gasped, leaning over the toilet once more and dry-heaving.
“Alright, Slugger, we know you could hit this out of the park, but best hit the bench.”
“Turn it off,” Cas moaned.
“Fine-home you go, you dumb wanker. You either report yourself to Anna or I’ll do it for you.”
“I can’t lose this job,” he moaned, as his friend gripped his shoulders and hauled him upright.
“You bring flu to this hospital, and Anna’ll take more than your job, my friend.”
Cas felt a sudden, severe onset of what could only be described as panic. “I’ve taken too much time. I’m failing my patients, my colleagues...my friends.”
Peter’s face softened. “No one’s harder on you than you are, Cas. This hospital can run without any of one of us. You’re here more than you should be anyway, and you know it.”
“I don’t want to lose this job.”
“You’re not going to.”
“I’m letting everyone down.” He was mortified to find his eyes suddenly damp.
“For Christ’s sake, Cas. Just go home. Get in bed and sleep this off. I promise I’ll act like this never happened.”
Cas took a deep breath, accepted his friend’s hand up, and splashed water on his face before he made his way up to Anna’s office. She was on a conference call and typing at the same time, but took one look at him, frowned, and said “go home. And stay there until you’re well,” before turning back to her computer screen.
“Anna, I’m sorry-”
“This is a hospital, Cas. We can’t have the sick treating the sick.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“Of course you didn’t. Doctors are the worst patients, I swear.” She stopped typing and turned. “Cas, you can’t work while you’re sick. It’s dangerous.”
“I’ve taken too many days.”
“And you’re here more days than you need to be. You call in when you’re off. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Cas felt heat filling his cheeks. Anna’s face softened. “Cas, go home. I need you here, and I need you healthy. I’ll comp Peter a few extra days, alright? Now, go. Home.”
Cas’s stomach rolled once more, and he found he couldn’t be happier to be heading to his locker, and then to his office, and then down the stairs, to his car, and to home, where he wanted nothing more than a few pain-killers, and his own bed, with Dean.
In retrospect, he should have know that was the first sign that something was truly wrong inside him.
Next
Me: I'm not sure if this is right time-wise...I've got a couple stories I'm working on, and I sort of wanted there to be a break-story between the last post and this.
Me: A break-story? You haven't posted anything in like, 150 years, you fat lazy skank. Your readers are drinking with Ash in heaven and your old ass is wondering if there's enough time between posts?
Me: .....shutup.
So...here is part one! Please enjoy! :D
P.S. My stupid "n" key on my poor, ancient laptop, is being super tempermental. So if you see egregious typos, please let me know??? :D
P.P.S. "DOMA," or the 'Defense of Marriage Act,' is a movement to ban same-sex marriage in the US Constitution. On June 26, 2013 (which says how long I've been writing this @#$# chapter), the law was FINALLY ruled unconstitutional. Yeah, there's a lot we Americans get wrong, but I WILL say, that we have changed at a crazy rate compared to other places...and I have faith we'll keep pushing forward. With that, I'm done being all serious and hope you enjoy some fic :D
* * *
Rebound tenderness is a clinical sign that a doctor or other health care provider may detect in physical examination of a patient's abdomen. It refers to pain upon removal of pressure rather than application of it.
“What’s electric again?” Dean asked. Cas glanced to the bill at his right.
“218.88.”
Dean shook his head. “That’s it. We’re turning the porch light off when we go to bed. We don’t want anyone coming by anyway.”
Cas smiled as he wrote out his half of the check. Strange as it sounded, he rather enjoyed paying bills with Dean: the two of them sitting down together at their kitchen table, the monthly costs of their home spread around them. Dean always asked him he felt about everything: really, how he felt about their lives. He always told Cas he was to take less shifts, and Cas always noticed stray bits of overtime Dean tried to sneak in, so he could point and say that he was more than capable of taking care of them, so Cas should try and take it easy: Cas loved him all the more for it. Paying bills was the rare, quiet time when they took inventory of every aspect of their lives, and when they operated, in full, as partners on every level possible.
Even if, after all this time, having separate checking accounts seemed a little unnecessary.
“Dude...you know I’m all about DIY,” Dean said, sighing at their water bill, “but I’ve done all I know how with that damn shower and it’s still running.”
“I’ll ask Sam if he’ll be home at all during the day this week, to let a plumber in.”
“Don’t you think it’s a conspiracy though? I mean, we only pay for hot water, and our shower is mysteriously only leaking hot water?”
“Who would be after the extra two dollars a month for our leaky shower?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out, and I’m going to write to the paper about it. In all caps. And bold.”
Cas laughed as he set up another check, than felt a sudden roll of nausea that cut off his breath. Dean glanced at him, then did a double-take, frowning.
“Cas?”
“I’m alright.”
“You’re kinda white.”
“I’m fine.” The wave passed, and Cas breathed a long, slow exhale. “I may have eaten something...off.”
“That better not be a crack about my cooking.”
“Of course not,” Cas smiled. Dean had made them stir-fry with an inordinate amount of vegetables, which Cas knew was just for him. Food was a big way Dean showed love, and watching his boyfriend eat carrots and string-beans and snow peas and chicken that wasn’t soaked in fat-and pretending to love it-meant more than a thousand bouquets ever could.
“You need to sleep more. You shouldn’t have had to go back on shift so soon.”
“I’ve taken more time off than anyone else. I’m lucky not to be demoted.”
“So? Peter spends his free time at the bar. You took it off for family. You deserve a break.”
“Dean, I’m alright.”
“This is my fault,” Dean sighed. “I’m sorry, I should have been home with you this week. I knew you wouldn’t sleep if I wasn’t.”
“I did sleep.”
“Y’know what-screw Jay. I can go work for Bobby. Or some other garage. It’s not the only one in town. I’ll call him and tell him-”
“Dean for all that’s holy, I am fine.” He grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and squeezed. “It’s nothing. I’m a little run down, but that’s no fault of yours.”
“You sure?”
“I’m a doctor.”
Dean nodded. “Okay. Let’s get this done, call it an early night.”
“Sounds good.” Cas grabbed the next paper in their stack. “Cell phones.”
“God bless you, family plan.”
“I agree. We’ve saved nearly fifty dollars this month.”
“Like I said.”
Just then the front door opened, and Sam hollered “Hey, guys!” with unusual exuberance.
“In here!” Dean called, and Sam came flying in.
“What do you think? It’s amazing, right?” Sam he asked, near bursting with pride. Dean and Cas exchanged a you following? ‘cause I’m not glance, before Dean shrugged.
“Sorry...did we miss a text or something?” he asked.
“No,” Sam beamed, “what do you think of the news?”
Cas and Dean exchanged a baffled glance.
“The news!”
Cas and Dean stared at him.
“DOMA!”
Cas and Dean stared at him.
“The Supreme Court!”
Cas and Dean stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“Sammy, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean finally said.
“Oh for-Cas, you gotta know!”
Cas glanced to Dean, who looked at him blankly. “I’m...behind on the news.”
Sam’s joy faded. “Really? It’s been months we’ve been waiting.”
“For?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“For the verdict!”
“Of what?”
“DOMA!”
Dean shook his head and looked to Cas. “I feel like I’m insane.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following you either, Sam,” Cas sighed. His stomach was rolling again, and it was taking a lot of work to keep his face straight.
“‘DOMA’ is ‘The Defense of Marriage Act.’ The movement to ban same-sex marriage in the Constitution. Today, the Supreme Court said it was unconstitutional: essentially, that limiting marriage to one man and one woman denies citizens their rights.”
“Great. So you and Andy can shop for rings.”
“It’s a huge victory-it’s the highest court in America saying that gay and lesbian couples deserve equal rights to marriage. Every state that acknowledges equal marriage now has the Federal backing, and Federal benefits. This is...huge!” Sam looked beside himself with happiness. “This is the next Civil Rights movement, and we’re living it!”
“Fine. But Cas and I haven’t budgeted more than $10,000 for your wedding, so Andy’s Dad’ll have to kick in the rest.”
“Oh for...” Sam sighed and crossed his arms. “You know what you two are? Homophobic.”
“You know what you are? A pain in the ass!”
Sam’s phone blared “Purple Haze,” Andy’s ringtone, and the younger Winchester rolled his eyes and scooped his cell out of his back pocket. “I know, I heard!” he answered.
“Tell your boy we give our blessing!” Dean called. Sam flipped his brother off and headed into the living room, Andy’s exuberant voice sounding through the speaker.
“They really would make adorable children,” Cas said, picturing a pack of floppy- haired, puppy-eyed, genius little kids. Dean huffed a laugh.
“Dude, no pregnancy is one of our perks. Don’t you and your docs go tweaking that.”
They passed the rest of the evening as normal: finished the bills, joined Sam for some TV, and got ready for bed. Cas gave Sam his meds and let him and Dean chat for a few minutes alone. He took the time to take two Aspirin and splash some cool water on his face, hoping he really wasn’t coming down with anything. As loving as Anna was, he couldn’t imagine her tolerating his endless need for time off to deal with family drama forever.
Lying in bed, waiting for Dean, Sam’s words came back to him. Although chronically behind on Time, he wasn’t so out of the news loop to know that marriage equality was gaining footing at an alarming rate. If Sam did have children, there was a good chance they’d grow up where was no marriage and ‘gay-marriage,’ but one name for one act, whoever it was for.
Since Dean refused to identify as gay (or straight, or bi, or anything other than Dean), and Cas refused to discuss anything approaching romance with anyone other than Dean (and, on the rare occasion, to at least reassure Sam they were happy), their chances of meeting other same-sex couples was pretty much zero. And Cas was fine with that-he liked the comfortable friendship they shared in public and the privacy they both valued surrounding their intimate life.
“Kid is ready to drench himself in glitter and dance in a rainbow parade,” Dean snorted. Cas admired his boyfriend in his navy t-shirt and matching pajama bottoms. Dean paused to pull of the shirt before sliding into bed, leaning over to press a quick kiss on his boyfriend’s mouth, a habit Cas had come to associate with it’s just us now.
Sometimes Cas couldn’t believe just how Dean had any humility at all, looking like he did. As blindly handsome as he was, he didn’t seem to take notice of his own attractiveness, unless he was recounting how he used it to distract someone long enough for him to snag cash or something Sam needed, back in the days before full-time employment.
Cas settled on his side, taking a moment to steady his stomach as it rolled yet again. “Do you think there’s something of merit to what Sam said?”
“My gut reaction is to say no...but for your sake, I’ll admit I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not saying we do anything as extreme of those other couples, but...how do you feel about merging checking accounts?”
Dean stiffened. “What’s wrong with how things are?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just...wouldn’t it be nice to write one check, per bill, every month?”
“That would mean you were paying for pretty much all of it.”
“Of course it doesn’t: it would be joined.”
“You make about five times what I do. This makes us even.”
“Dean,” Cas scooted closer, ignoring the sudden objection in his side, and laid a hand over his boyfriend’s heart. “I understand you want us to be equals...but that has always hinged on your budget, not mine. Do you realize that isn’t equal?”
“When it comes to money...we’ll never be close to equals. I know that. But this is the closest we can be.”
“But it’s not.” Cas rubbed his thumb over Dean’s heart. “We could really deal with our incomes as one. Regardless of what we make individually. I understand you have reservations. But I also need you to know that, in my estate planning, I fully intend to leave you the rights to everything: including my finances. And there will be a separate account for Sam, to insure that his health is always provided for.”
“Stop it. I don’t want to talk about wills and crap.”
“This is important to me.”
Dean sighed, caught Cas’s hand, and rolled sideways to face him. “Cas, I don’t want your money. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with all that stuff.”
“I don’t think that’s what bothers you,” Cas said, doing his best to keep his voice light and soft. “I think you worry that people will think that’s why you’re with me.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have a problem calling me your boyfriend, or partner.”
Dean’s face morphed into one of shock. “That’s what you think?”
“It’s okay-”
“No, it’s not. It has nothing to do with you. I’ve always been that way. Girlfriend and boyfriend seem so juvenile, and partner seems so formal and businessesy, and everything else feels too contrived.” Dean propped himself up. “Is this about the whole gay-marriage thing? Am I gonna have to put a ring on it?”
Cas had a flash of him and Dean in tuxes, standing under an archway, and felt his stomach roll again. It was so far away from the relaxed, friendly affection he and Dean shared-and the tender, more loving moments they kept to their bed-he couldn’t imagine them even pretending that was natural. Though he’d believed he wanted to marry Rachel, he’d dreaded the idea of a ceremony: and he’d forced a smile through hers, hating the endless photographs and handshakes and cues he had to remember.
“No, Dean,” he said, propping himself up. “I’m happy with how things are. But...with everything that’s happened, with my Father and the estate, I’ve realized this is something we have to deal with. I’m wealthy, Dean, and if I were to die first, I’d want you and Sam to be fully provided for.”
“You’re not going to die first.”
“We can’t know that.”
“I do.” Dean flopped back down. “If there’s anything I’ve earned in this life, it’s the right to not have to live without you or Sammy. I’m going to go first.”
Cas felt a sudden emptying of his insides, dread overwhelming him. “You can’t,” he pleaded, ignoring the physical pull in his gut as he leaned forward and grabbed his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Don’t talk like that.”
“We got time.” Dean reached up and laid a hand on the side of his face. “Don’t worry.”
“Then why are you saying this? Why do you get to be first?”
“Because I’m the weakest,” he murmured, pushing Cas’s hair behind his ear. “You and Sammy, you can power through anything.”
“You’re saying this like it’s fact.”
“It’s instinct.” Dean reached up and pulled him down against his shoulder. “I’m just trying to say...we don’t have to make these decisions tonight. And the money...that doesn’t have to be a factor.”
“But you’re making all these decisions without me.”
“I don’t think I can be of any use when it comes to managing money. I’ve spent my whole life clawing to keep the power on.”
Cas felt his eyes burn a bit, sat up, ignoring another twinge in his side, pulled himself on top of his boyfriend, and kissed him like this was, in fact, their last night together. “I don’t want to be without you,” he hissed, pulling back to stare at him, pinning Dean’s wrists. “You don’t get to decide I will be.”
Dean’s eyes softened, and he relaxed beneath him. “Let’s just leave it?”
“Tell me you don’t get to leave me.”
“I don’t get to leave you.”
“You don’t get to decide that I’ll be without you.”
“I don’t get to decide you’ll be without me.”
In the back of Cas’s mind, he realized it was surprising just how easy it was to get Dean to give in. And for the first time in their years together, he finally understood a bit about what it was Dean had loved about Gordon: he’d let Dean release all his responsibility. Dean carried so much for so many-Cas included-without complaint, and without a thought of his own well being. He, more than anyone, deserved the release of responsibility.
“Lie still,” Cas commanded, “and think only of a long life. With me.” And then he moved down his boyfriend’s chest and beneath their covers.
* * *
Cas’s stomach didn’t improve the next day. He managed to get down some toast and a bit of eggs, quickly tossing the remains while Dean was busy talking at Sam about their schedules. Cas patted Dean on the back, squeezed Sam’s shoulder, and took off, Sam’s protest of “Dean!” and Dean’s mimic of “Sam!” drifting after him.
The drive in only ratcheted up his nausea, every curve seemingly designed to bring the fire in his gut further and further up into his chest. He made it through a full round on the floor before he needed to pause and splash cold water on his face, lean against the wall, and do some deep breathing.
He didn’t make it through round two.
On his knees in the physician’s bathroom, the little bit of toast came flying up, along with, he was sure, some remnants of Dean’s vegetable stir-fry.
He closed his eyes, leaned against his hand, and panted. He shouldn’t be at work: he knew that. But he’d taken too much time as it was. It seemed like every other week, someone was having to cover him for something, all of it personal. To take more time off...
Cas vomited for the third time. His gut ached, his eyes were running, and he felt a stupid, childish longing for Dean to rub his back and murmur like he had during Cas’s last bought with stomach flu, during ‘The Unfortunate Weekend,’ when he and Sam seemed dead-set on emptying their bodies of any and all fluids.
“Ew,” a familiar voice chirped from behind him.
“Some doctor you are,” Cas gasped, sweat running down his forehead.
“Pediatrician. Kids can’t physically produce that much bile.”
“Shutup,” Cas moaned.
“Seriously, mate, you best get home.”
“Anna will kill me.”
“She’s more likely to kill you if you walk around patients while sick yourself.”
“I’ve taken too many days.” Cas slumped back against the stall and wiped his mouth on his lab coat. “I can’t lose this job. This is the only hospital reasonably near Dean’s garage.”
“Anna isn’t going to send a Morgan to the showers.”
Cas’s stomach rolled again. “God.”
“Seriously,” Peter said, crouching outside the door. “Hold still.”
“What-” he startled as a cold metal object snuck into his ear. He tried to duck away, but his friend’s hand blocked his exit.
“Hold still, little man, and I’ll give you a Euro.”
“I’ve been to Europe.”
“Then hold still because ,I said so.” Cas heard a beep and Peter withdrew the thermometer. “101.4. Not life-threatening, but on the wrong side of normal.”
“I must have eaten something...off,” Cas gasped, leaning over the toilet once more and dry-heaving.
“Alright, Slugger, we know you could hit this out of the park, but best hit the bench.”
“Turn it off,” Cas moaned.
“Fine-home you go, you dumb wanker. You either report yourself to Anna or I’ll do it for you.”
“I can’t lose this job,” he moaned, as his friend gripped his shoulders and hauled him upright.
“You bring flu to this hospital, and Anna’ll take more than your job, my friend.”
Cas felt a sudden, severe onset of what could only be described as panic. “I’ve taken too much time. I’m failing my patients, my colleagues...my friends.”
Peter’s face softened. “No one’s harder on you than you are, Cas. This hospital can run without any of one of us. You’re here more than you should be anyway, and you know it.”
“I don’t want to lose this job.”
“You’re not going to.”
“I’m letting everyone down.” He was mortified to find his eyes suddenly damp.
“For Christ’s sake, Cas. Just go home. Get in bed and sleep this off. I promise I’ll act like this never happened.”
Cas took a deep breath, accepted his friend’s hand up, and splashed water on his face before he made his way up to Anna’s office. She was on a conference call and typing at the same time, but took one look at him, frowned, and said “go home. And stay there until you’re well,” before turning back to her computer screen.
“Anna, I’m sorry-”
“This is a hospital, Cas. We can’t have the sick treating the sick.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“Of course you didn’t. Doctors are the worst patients, I swear.” She stopped typing and turned. “Cas, you can’t work while you’re sick. It’s dangerous.”
“I’ve taken too many days.”
“And you’re here more days than you need to be. You call in when you’re off. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Cas felt heat filling his cheeks. Anna’s face softened. “Cas, go home. I need you here, and I need you healthy. I’ll comp Peter a few extra days, alright? Now, go. Home.”
Cas’s stomach rolled once more, and he found he couldn’t be happier to be heading to his locker, and then to his office, and then down the stairs, to his car, and to home, where he wanted nothing more than a few pain-killers, and his own bed, with Dean.
In retrospect, he should have know that was the first sign that something was truly wrong inside him.
Next