Sensation
Sensation
Summary: Life goes on. Sequel to Phantom.
XXX
“Maybe we should have brought the wheelchair,” Dean concedes guiltily, sliding into his seat and watching Sam all but collapse on the other side of the Cozy Cafe's red leather booth, puffing like he's just run a mile and white knuckling his crutches through either exertion or pain. Maybe both. Damn. He shouldn't have pushed the kid so hard, not yet. Sam hadn't been sure if he could do it and now Dean's not sure either. They still have the whole walk home ahead of them...
“And miss the opportunity to see how far I've come?” Sam mimics his own words back at him breathlessly. He leans his crutches against the seat beside him and reaches up a hand to push long, sweat-damp hair out of his eyes before grinning victoriously at Dean across the table. “I'm fine. I'm awesome. You were right, I can make it all the way here.”
“Go you,” Dean praises, feeling his own mouth pull up in a grin and deciding immediately that if making it all the way here makes Sam smile like that even though his arms and chest are probably aching like crazy and maybe his leg's hurting where it's not there and he's all flushed and still out of breath then maybe he was right about it after all. Sam has always liked a challenge.
“Go me,” Sam agrees.
The leash Dean's holding gives a jerk as the golden retriever on the other end of it nudges Sam's knee beseechingly and of course Sam immediately caves to her wishes and gestures her up, letting her curl up on the seat next to him and try to push as much of herself into his lap as possible, even though she's already too big for it now and it just makes her and Sam look ridiculous (and adorable and Dean is so freaking happy watching Sam be happy that it makes him glance over at Monica as she wipes down the booth next to them and want to kiss her for being the one who suggested that Sam might need a dog).
“You know you're not supposed to bring that dog in here, Dean,” Monica's faux-exasperated voice admonishes, catching his eye before he can look away and shaking her head mirthfully. Dean knows she won't kick them out, she's too much of a softie for both Sam and his ridiculous, adorable animal.
“Hey, Reva's a service dog,” Dean professes audaciously, loud enough for the two women sitting across the room to hear, grinning at Monica as he stretches an arm out over the back of the booth.
Monica flicks her damp cloth at him playfully. “She is not and you know I know that.”
“The customers don't though,” Dean points out cheekily.
“Your brother's impossible,” Monica says, rolling her eyes at Sam. “How are you doing? I see you finally gave her a name.”
“He wanted to call her Princess at first but I told him I'd get confused with two of them,” Dean quips.
“Shut up, Dean.” Sam rolls his eyes too. “Don't listen to him, Monica.”
“I never do,” she laughs. She drops her cloth into the bucket of soapy water set up on the cleaning trolly and pushes it out of the way, swapping cleaning for stroking the dog’s head. “So Reva, is it? That's a nice name. Where did you get it from?”
“It's Latin,” Sam explains, suddenly self-conscious as he ducks his head. “It means 'to bring back to life'.”
Monica pauses, her eyes flicking to Dean. He offers her a wonky grin. Sam knows the dog was Monica's idea and he knows that Dean spoke to Monica about him. He might not know the exact specifics of their conversations - Dean didn't see any good reason for bringing up the idea of suicide with Sam after it stopped seeming like a possibility - but he knows they talked about his depression. Thankfully, after getting to know her, he also knows that Monica is trustworthy and would never use the information against him. Dean's actually pretty sure that Sam and Monica have had a few intense conversations of their own since Sam started to venture back out into the world.
“Wow, Dean was right,” she says lightly, “You really do over think things, don't you?”
Sam huffs a surprised laugh, looking relieved by the lightening of the situation. “Well, with Dean under thinking everything-”
“Hey!” Dean cuts in indignantly.
“-you have to pick up the slack,” Monica finishes for him, sending Dean a teasing smile.
“Oh wonderful, you're ganging up on me. Shouldn't you be doing your job and making us coffee?”
“Why should I when my favourite employee is here?” Monica winks. “Everyone knows you make the best coffee. Besides, I want to play with this gorgeous creature.”
Dean huffs and does his best to act annoyed, even though he doesn't mind at all. Just means he can make his coffee exactly how he wants it. “You better be talking about the dog, otherwise I'm gonna have to worry about your eyesight,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the counter and starts setting things up, and okay, he does kind of watch them out of the corner of his eye to make sure Monica really was talking about Reva. Not that he'd be mad if she and Sammy... well, maybe he would, a little, but he wouldn't blame them. It's not like he's actually done or said anything about his attraction to Mon, so it would be no one's fault but his own...
He's being stupid. He can't have a girlfriend now, not when he's still figuring out how to handle bills and work and getting Sam to physical therapy and just being normal for the first time in his life. He doesn't even know if they're going to stay here permanently. It hasn't been mentioned since the day he got Sam the puppy but Sam will be ready for a prosthetic soon and who knows what will happen after that? It wouldn't be fair to make a commitment he wouldn't be able to keep and anyway, his focus needs to be on Sam. After all, it wasn't that long ago that he was worried the kid was going to off himself and even though things are finally looking up, he's not ready to let his guard down just yet.
Giggling draws his attention back to the booth and he realizes Sam and Monica are both looking at him, not at all furtively, as they whisper to each other.
“You're worse than high-school students,” Dean points out, then he has to turn away in case his face shows his disappointment. He's happy for them. Really. If anyone deserves a bit of romance right now, it's definitely Sam.
It's been rough but Sam's been pushing through with the usual Winchester determination since Reva came into the picture. Sneaking a glance, he's not surprised to see the pup alert despite the way she cuddles into Sam, her head rested on the denim-clad thigh that ends at the knee, the leg of Sam's jeans folded and pinned into place at the end of the stump. Reva is scanning the cafe for any sign of danger and Dean doesn't doubt that she would throw herself in harms way for Sammy. He just hopes she never has to. Things have been going so well, he can almost believe that it's only going to get better.
By the time he's finished making the coffee, the lunch rush is starting. Jenny, one of the other employees, turns up for her shift and Monica takes over for him so he can go sit with Sam and Reva (who, Monica says loudly and with a wink, is the cutest service dog she's ever seen). Sam's still smiling but Dean can see the strain under it. They really should have brought the wheelchair with them, at least for the walk back; the kid's exhausted and probably aching pretty bad but Dean knows he won't say anything unless he's pressed. Dean doesn't feel like pushing though - it would kind of sour the whole achievement of Sam making it all the way here on crutches - so instead he drinks his coffee leisurely, giving Sam plenty of time to recover before the walk back, and starts talking about how he wants to do some work in the garden and that Sam could either help or rest, whichever, doesn't bother him (Sam is so totally having a rest), and Sam looks at him like he's not fooling anyone but he doesn't argue which just goes to show that Dean is right in his assessment.
“Are you sure about this?” he can't help but ask when they've both drained their coffee and Sam's fumbling to get his crutches into position. “I can go get the car, if you want. It won't take long.”
“No, it's okay,” Sam says, “I can do it.”
It's hard not to automatically offer assistance as he watches Sam carefully lever himself up. The kid still looks pretty wiped from the walk here and it takes him a moment to find his balance on the crutches but Dean knows to only help when asked, otherwise he'll end up embarrassing Sam or making the kid feel useless despite having good intentions. He does take Reva's leash and hold the door open though, because dogs and doors are tricky with one leg and crutches.
“Bye, Monica,” Sam calls as he swings himself out onto the street.
“Bye, guys!” she calls back. She tucks a dark, wayward curl behind her ear and sends Dean a dazzling smile. “See you at eight, Dean.”
Dean's farewell dies on his lips as he pauses, frowns, wondering if he's forgotten a shift, but no, the cafe's not even open that late. His bafflement must show on his face because Sam and Monica both laugh, and Sam nudges him.
“You were never going to ask her out, so I did it for you,” he says with a smirk. “You're picking her up from the animal shelter when she finishes volunteering.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
He is? “Uh...” He stares at her for a long moment before he becomes aware of how idiotic he must look and quickly tries to wipe the dumb surprise off his face. “Uh, okay, see you at eight, Mon.”
He's so stunned by this sudden turn of events that his brain doesn't properly switch on until they're both outside. The implications begin to sink in as he watches Sam carefully maneuver his crutches around Reva's leash. They still use the wheelchair so much, she hasn't figured out how to stay out of the way yet. She's getting better, sure, but her instinct is still to stick as close to Sam as possible and she seems to be training Sam to avoid her more than he's managing to train her, the big softie. “What about you?” he asks Sam.
“What about me?”
“What if you need me?” They haven't spent a night away from each other since Sam was in the hospital, and yeah, Sam manages fine when he's at work but Dean always saw that as a necessary sacrifice. He's not sure how he feels willingly leaving Sam without back up for any longer than he has to... Just because things are quiet and they're not hunting monsters, doesn't mean monsters won't show up hunting them.
“For what? I don't think I can get into much trouble while sitting at home, and even if I did, I have my cellphone and Reva.” Sam stops limping along to look at Dean so Dean stops too. Reva sniffs at a dandelion. “Look, I know you like Monica, and I know that I'm the reason you haven't asked her out, so I'm telling you now that it's fine. I'm fine. I can handle spending a night without you. And I want you to be happy so you better not make any dumb excuses to get out of going just because you're worried about me.”
Dean scuffs his boot against the pavement. “I kind of thought... you and her...” he admits, trying to gauge Sam's reaction. The two of them are definitely close and he's not exactly the only one who makes sacrifices for his brother.
“Really?” Sam seems nothing but surprised though. “Me and Mon? Not at all, man, she's been crushing on you since your first week at Cozy Cafe. But don't tell her I told you that or I'll tell let slip the fact that you've been crushing on her just as long.”
“Oh,” Dean says dumbly. He's still reeling. Monica likes him? Not Sam? Wow. “Well, uh... okay then. I guess I'm going on a date.”
“Yeah you are.” Sam looks so damn pleased with himself that Dean can't help but grin.
A date with Monica. Awesome.
XXX
“This has been nice,” Monica says, smiling up at Dean. She's sitting on the small stone ledge that surrounds the towns only fountain, leaning into his side. His arm's wrapped around her back, his hand resting comfortably at her slender waist, and she's right, this has been nice. This is still nice. Monica is warm and the night is cloudless. Even with the streetlights casting their artificial glow over the square, the stars are bright, the moon a glowing crescent above them.
“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “We should do it again.”
He's pretty sure that's what he's supposed to say now. It's what he wants to say, at least, but this whole dating thing is so different from his usual one night stands and he doesn't want to fuck it up. To be honest, he spent an hour stressing while he checked all their wards and salt lines and the mirror half a dozen times before Sam shut him down with “Oh my God, just stop. You look great, you and Monica are awesome together, and I will be completely fine with Reva for a few hours. Just have fun.”
“Definitely,” Monica agrees, so it probably was the right thing to say. Cool.
His phone rings before he can think of what he's supposed to do next, startling his worries about a dating faux pas out of his mind. He reaches for it quickly, like his hands have been twitching to do all evening, because there's only one person who would call this late and if he's calling now, it means something's wrong.
“Sam, you okay?” he asks, as soon as his phone's pressed against his ear, a spike of adrenaline catching his breath in his throat when the pause on Sam's end of the line begins to drag.
“Define okay,” Sam says sheepishly.
Dean pulls away from Monica and feels his heartbeat speed up, thumping against his chest. “Nothing bleeding, broken or burning,” he lists.
He senses Monica looking at him questioningly but he ignores her as he waits for Sam's answer. And waits. “Sam...” he growls impatiently.
“Don't freak out.”
Crap. “What happened?”
Sam's sigh is a rush of static over the phone. “I slipped. Put my crutch on some spilled water and it slid out from under me. I think I broke my wrist.”
“Fuck.”
“You're telling me. I kind of don't think I can get up - ow, Reva, stop it - without both hands, and even if I could, I don't know if I can get anywhere without falling over and making it worse.” Close to the phone, Reva lets out a worried bark, as if she's trying to convey to Dean that in her opinion, this is bad. “Reva's not happy about me being on the floor.”
“I'll be right there,” Dean promises. “Ten minutes max, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Dean. And, uh, sorry if I'm interrupting anything.”
It's only after he's hung up the phone and Monica's hand on his forearm surprises him that he remembers what Sam was worried about interrupting. With a stab of guilt, he realizes that he'd forgotten about her and the date completely the second he found out Sam was hurt, which is pretty crappy of him, especially when she's looking at him with so much concern.
“Is Sam okay?” she asks.
“Not really,” Dean admits, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “He's managed to mess himself up. I need to take him to the hospital to get his wrist looked at. I'm sorry, Mon.”
“You don't need to apologize. I understand, but...” Now she looks guilty. “You're kinda my ride. I left my car at the shelter and it's too late for buses now. Do you think Sam would mind if I tagged along? I could stay with Reva while you guys are at the hospital.”
“Yeah, sure.” He doesn't think Sam will mind, and anyway, “Stranding you in town after our first date probably isn't a good idea if I want a second one.” Even he can figure that out.
“Probably not,” Monica agrees with a smile.
XXX
“Sammy?” Dean calls, stepping through the door with Monica following behind him. Reva comes running up the hall, barking frantically, and jumps up to paw at him anxiously. She calms a little when he stoops to pat her but it's clear that she's too worried about Sam to stay still so he straightens quickly and lets her lead them to the kitchen, where he's greeted by the sight of Sam on the floor, as expected, crutches scattered on either side of him. He's leaning back against the cupboard that holds the various pots and pans they've picked up from thrift stores, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, remaining foot bare and stretched out in front of him, and his hand is cradled in his lap. He tilts his head back against the cupboard to look up at Dean and Monica when they walk in.
“Hey,” he says, flashing them a tired smile.
“What was it you said to me earlier? About how much trouble you can get into in a few hours by yourself?” Dean chastises lightly as he crosses the kitchen to Sam's side.
Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, I didn't expect to be attacked by a puddle of water.”
“Where is this water you slipped in?” Dean asks as he crouches down beside Sam, glancing around the kitchen floor.
“By the sink. I think the pipes are leaking.”
Dean sees it now, the faint glisten of the tile that indicates moisture. He'll have to do something about that, but for now it'll have to wait. He takes Sam's wrist in his hands, gently inspecting it. Reva tries to nose in and lick the wounded limb but Dean pushes her away before Sam has to. He doesn't need to look too close to see that Sam is most likely correct in his assessment; the wrist is hot and swollen, the skin already bruising a soft blue. Broken.
“Sit, Reva,” Dean orders when the pup attempts to nose her way in again. Reva whines unhappily but obeys.
“Sorry about your date.” Sam directs the apology at Monica, who, Dean realizes, is getting ice from the freezer. She wraps it in a tea towel and brings it over, crouching down on Sam's other side after carefully dodging the spilled water.
“Don't worry about it, Sam,” she says. “We had a great time.”
“Yeah?” Sam looks pleased, despite the fact that he's just lost the use of another limb, temporarily at least.
“Yeah,” Dean confirms as he takes the ice from Monica and arranges it over Sam's wrist. Sam hisses at the sudden chill, or maybe pain from Dean's jostling. “You girls can gossip all about it later. Right now, we should get you to the hospital. Mon, could you grab the wheelchair? It's in the sitting room.”
“Sure thing.” She's gone before she sees Sam's face fall.
“Sammy?”
“It's nothing,” Sam lies, fussing with the ice-filled tea towel to avoid Dean's eyes.
“The wheelchair?” Dean asks, not that he really needs to. It's obvious in the way Sam ducks behind his hair, folding into himself at the mere mention of it.
Sam shrugs a shoulder. “It feels like I only just got out of it, and now...” He gestures to his wrist helplessly, eyes dark with frustration. “I can't use crutches with a broken wrist.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Dean concedes. There's a sinking feeling forming in his gut as he thinks about all the progress Sam's made recently. “But there's still the prosthetic to look forward to. You won't be in the chair forever.”
“I know, but...”
“It sucks.” Dean agrees. It really does. “I get it. Maybe try to see it as a break? You've been working pretty hard.”
“I don't want a break,” Sam sighs despondently. “I want to walk.”
“I know, Sammy, and you will,” Dean promises, a little desperately. “Your wrist will get better and the prosthetic isn't far away... this isn't the end of the world, remember?”
Sam glances up to offer him a wonky smile, like he can read Dean's mind and knows exactly where his thoughts have turned. “Don't worry, I'm not gonna go back to lying in bed all day or anything. That was... I'm done with that. This just really, really sucks.”
Reva whines, as if agreeing with Sam. She looks to Dean, big eyes begging permission to go to Sam, but Dean shakes his head. “Sorry, Reva, you're too rough.”
She growls a denial but stays put.
“Don't worry, Reva,” Monica says as she pushes the wheelchair into the kitchen. “You can play with me soon.”
The dogs ears perk up a little at that but she still doesn't look entirely happy. She tilts her head at Sm beseechingly.
“Aw, Reva,” Sam says apologetically. He reaches out his good hand to scratch around the scar that crosses the dogs head. “It'll be okay. You'll have so much fun with Monica, you'll barely notice I'm gone.”
Reva looks less than convinced, which isn't surprising seeing as she's barely left Sam's side since Dean brought her home, but they can't sit around all evening reassuring the dog.
“You ready, Sammy?” Dean asks.
Sam glances at the wheelchair Monica has placed beside him, a quick glimpse of grudging resignation flashing across his face. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly.
“Just keep that ice on your wrist and let us do the work,” Dean instructs, cringing a little internally. He hates reminding Sam that there are some things he can't do himself but sometimes, like now, there's no way around it. It must be so hard for the kid to let Dean and Monica haul him upright and sit him in the wheelchair but he takes it stoically, only a small twinge of pain crossing his face when his wrist is jostled. Reva can't restrain herself any longer. She gets up and starts nudging at Sam's leg, whining to be picked up because in her mind, the wheelchair means she gets to sit in Sam's lap and go for a ride.
“Not today, Reva,” Sam says, shaking his head. Poor Reva looks so heartbreakingly confused that Dean wants to back down and just let her jump up and come along, as ridiculous and inconvenient as it would be, and Sam looks utterly torn at the idea of letting her out of his sight. Dumb dog, Dean thinks uselessly, who gave her permission to be so adorable and make him feel so stupidly mushy inside?
“Sorry, girl,” he says, taking hold of her collar and leading her over to Monica, “I'm gonna look after Sammy tonight. Do me a favour and look after Mon for me, okay?”
The pup whines again, squirming and twisting her head towards Sam, but she goes to Monica willingly enough when Dean releases his grip, falling in love immediately when Monica starts tickling her tummy in just the right spot.
“We'll be fine, won't we, Reva?” Monica coos.
Sam looks relieved - obviously Reva isn't the only one worrying about her other half, as Dean has come to think of them after seeing how utterly besotted the two are with each other. Monica's presence is reassuring... for all of them, Dean thinks. Reva's content in her arms, Sammy doesn't have to worry about his dog being alone while they're gone, and Dean, well... Dean just finds Monica's presence reassuring. Has done since he first wandered into the cafe, still shell shocked after leaving the hospital, working through the dawning realization that things were going to change, forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, unwilling to return to the empty motel room he'd spent night after night in since the accident. It was Monica who offered him the job when he mentioned that he was going to have to start looking for one, and while working in a place called 'Cozy Cafe' wasn't exactly something he was expecting, neither was Sam losing a leg. It was a job and he needed the money and Monica is one of those rare happy people who really cares about everybody, the kind you can't help but like. How she managed to get him talking, to bring him out of his daze enough to form coherent sentences, he'll never know, but she did and she was kind and understanding and the first good thing that had happened to him in a long time.
“See you guys when you get back,” Monica says, startling him out of his thoughts.
“Bye, Mon. Bye, Reva. Onward, slave,” Sam directs this last command at Dean.
“Yes, master,” Dean replies sardonically, rolling his eyes. He shares a grin with Monica as he grasps the handlebars of the wheelchair, then she leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek, quick and soft and fluttery, which, embarrassingly enough, makes him grin even wider, and he's forced to stutter over a hasty goodbye and hurry out the door before she notices him blushing in a totally un-manly way.
“You're so adorable,” Sam smirks on the way to the car. Of course, he can't hide it from his brother, but what the hell, Sam seems genuinely pleased despite the circumstances, so if being happy makes Sam happy he may as well grin away. But that's not going to stop him from knocking Sam on the side of his head before he has to help him into the Impala.
“Shut it, bitch.”