#ive been picking at this for way too long ive adjusted the conversation countless times

[needleandstory]

"This is always a place you can come to." (We don’t have any established relationships between our characters, but I’d certainly be interested in a drabble of your characters if you feel like it [and if this fits any of them]!)

A soft thump to their back roused Nat to waking. Their bleary eyes focused in on the glowing numbers of the clock, floating ghost-like in the dark: it was early. Too early. The air stank of alcohol. A small body had tucked itself into bed behind them, forehead pressed between their shoulders, and a hand was making itself comfortable around their waist.

"Miss me already?" they murmured. Soft fingers--certainly Rowan's--dug into the fabric of their shirt, and they turned to face him.

He didn't answer. He gazed up, mouth soft, gaze unsteady, before his hand shot up and grabbed the back of their neck. He yanked them down, hard, and pressed up to meet them in a kiss.

Nat had seen Rowan drunk a thousand times. They had seen him, arms wide, walking across the top of the bar, insufferable grin on his face. They once shivered, his breath warm in their ear, as he told the worst joke anyone's ever heard. They had looked into his eyes, hazy with alcohol, dark and deep, as he looked at them like they were the only star in the sky. Never had they seen him quite like this: Rowan kissed Nat like a man drowning--messy, warm, and wet--and, sleepy as they were, Nat would not withhold from him his air. They hooked a knee over his hip.

-----

The next day found Nat and Rowan sprawled out together on his bed. He lounged between their legs, head resting on their stomach, as he played on the Switch, but their gaze had wandered from the screen to the open window. Thin, grey light struggled to pierce through the layer of clouds to reach the glass, but the breeze was refreshing, cool and mild. The air smelled of imminent rain. It had been twenty minutes since Rowan last said a word.

Nat shifted back suddenly, dropping Rowan and startling him out of his dead-eyed stare on the screen. He shot a baffled glare back at them, but they tucked in their legs and rolled off the bed. "What are you doing?" he asked.

They popped up on the other side of him, sliding up to hold his thighs in their arms. "I'm just wondering, that's all."

"Wondering what?" He raised an eyebrow, but curiosity glimmered in his rote answer.

They sat up properly, keeping his thighs pressed to their shoulders and hauling him up with them. "Why you've been so quiet. It's bizarre."

He jerked in their hold--yanking his hips full-force, his torso pulling away--but they held fast. His shirt fell. He huffed. "You're bored."

They tried not to get distracted by the newly revealed curve of his stomach. Adopting an interrogator's tone, they declared, "You're avoiding the question."

"Ever considered your taste in games is shit?"

"Bzzt! Wrong answer." Turning, they bit his thigh, and he cried out his objection--but he was grinning now, even as he bucked against them. Nat said, "My taste is impeccable. You've got two more chances."

"The hell are you even on about? I haven't been quiet. I know it's been a fucking while, but believe it or not, I shut up sometimes. Sometimes, I like a little goddamn peace and quiet." He folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, as if that settled that.

Their hands closed around the fabric of his pants, fists full of certainty. They bit him. "Bzzt! Wrong answer. Last chance."

He affected a sigh, making himself a little more comfortable. "God damn, are you that impatient these days? You almost sound worried. I didn't know you missed the sound of my voice that much."

Nat took a beat too long to answer. Rowan cracked open an eye. He asked, "Does that satisfy you?"

They looked down at him. For all his relaxed posing, tension wound in the wiry lines of his arms, and suspicion hardened the line of his brow. He was at their mercy, but by his good graces only. They nestled their face down, pressing their nose into the seam of his pants. "No," they declared. "You haven't been anywhere near loud enough."

[tobesolonely]

jealousy

a/n: hello! this is a little one shot that’s apart of my dad!harry universe! you dont have to read the original one to understand this one shot but if you’d like to, ill link it here . i hope everyone enjoys! please reblog and leave feedback if you do<33

summary: y/n and harry have another child, and their first born is a little skeptical on the idea of being a big sister.

warnings: none

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

After hours of excruciating contractions, a backache like nothing you’ve ever felt in your life, and the horrid discomfort that came with pushing, you forgot all about your displeasure when Harry grabbed your hand, eyes sparkling, and said: “He’s beautiful, Y/N. Oliver’s here.”

When you found out you were having a baby boy, you were ecstatic. You and Harry already had a daughter, a fiery six-year-old named Allison, or Ally, as she preferred, and wanted to try for a boy. Girls run on both sides of your family, so you were pleasantly surprised when you found out you were expecting a baby boy. However, your daughter was not so happy about this news.

At first, you and Harry thought that the farther along you got in your pregnancy, the more your daughter would warm up to the idea of being a big sister. Unfortunately, the opposite happened. She became withdrawn and had outbursts that you would describe as “unpredictable and unprovoked.” You tried using your own experience as an older sibling to help your daughter know what to expect. You let her pick the color for the nursery. Harry got a t-shirt made that said, “Best big sister ever!” but she never wanted to wear it. Despite your greatest efforts, nothing changed your daughter’s attitude. She was much like you in that aspect— once she had an opinion on something, it was difficult to get her to see things from a different perspective. Still, you were looking forward to your eldest meeting the newest addition to the family.

After a few hours of skin to skin, feeding, and napping (because everyone knows you sleep when the baby sleeps), Harry breaks the silence. “Told my mum she can come over with Ally and Gem, now. Are yeh okay with visitors?” His voice is scratchy from not speaking for so long, and he’s whispering in an effort to not wake up your son.

“That’s fine,” you respond, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. “Just exhausted. Maybe a short visit?” Harry nods, telling you he already suggested they don’t stay for long. You look over at your son, starting to feel a little anxious. Ally had six months to adjust to the idea of having a sibling, and she was upset about it right up until the very end. When you went into labor, as Harry frantically got the car packed, she stood off to the side and said nothing. When Harry’s mom arrived as you were getting set to leave, the two of you told your daughter to be good, gave her hugs and kisses, and reminded her how loved she was. Still, Ally said nothing. When Anne waved as Harry backed the car out of the driveway, Ally had a look on her face that she didn’t often wear— a look that could best be described as pure hurt.

“What’s on your mind?” While you were lost in your thoughts, Harry moved from the chair near the window to the one next to your bed.

“I’m just worried about how Ally’s gonna react to him,” you gesture toward your son, who was still fast asleep in his bassinet. “Did you see how she looked at us when we left? Hardly said a word to either one of us.”

Harry hums thoughtfully, thinking back on the earlier day's events. “Guess you’re right, now that ‘m thinkin’ about it. She didn’t seem excited at all, did she?”

You shake your head, tears starting to form in your eyes. Harry’s expression softens, and he reaches to gently cup your face. “Hey, don’ gotta cry, lovie. Just wait ‘til she sees him. Promise she’ll fall in love jus’ like we did, trust me.” He wipes a stray tear from your cheek and gives you a reassuring smile.

“You’re right,” you tell him, feeling silly for getting so emotional so quickly. “I know it’s a big adjustment. My mom told me I was the same way when my little sister was born.” Harry nods, retracting his hand from your face and reaching to grab a tissue from the table beside your bed.

“See? Who woulda thought yeh didn’t like your sister when she was born? The two of yeh are inseparable at this point, know she’d be right here beside you if she wasn’t away at university.”

You’re about to respond when a gentle knock at the door interrupts your conversation. Harry’s eyes light up as he turns to see his mother, Gemma, and your baby girl all walk into the room. Gemma is holding a big bouquet of flowers, Anne has a bunch of balloons with “It’s a boy!” written in curly script, and Ally is clutching onto her grandmother’s hand, a stuffed bear that you don’t recognize as being hers in tow.

“C’mere and give Daddy a hug,” Harry immediately stands up and goes to pick up your daughter, twirling her around. “Missed yeh so much, love bug. Were you good for grandma and auntie Gem?” Harry’s voice is still quiet, as Oliver was still sleeping, and no one wanted to deal with a fussy baby at the moment.

“Yes, daddy.” Ally answers quietly and shortly, looking down at the floor. Harry notices this and sets her down, kneeling to make eye contact with her.

“What’s wrong, Ally? Mumma and Daddy have noticed that yeh haven’t been yourself lately. Something botherin’ you?” Harry questions, already knowing why she was so upset but wanting to give her a chance to freely express how she was feeling.

“S’just…” she says, tugging on her shirt and stretching it out, a bad nervous habit she developed. “I don’ think I want a brother, Daddy. Auntie Gem said it would be fun, but I jus’ don’t think so.” Your daughter has a look of genuine worry on her face. At this point, Gemma and Anne have made their way over to you, quietly offering congratulations and gushing over Oliver.

“What makes yeh think it won’t be fun, bug? What are some things you’re worried about?” Harry takes one of her little hands in his, rubbing gentle circles on her thumb. Ally harshly rubs at her eyes, and you know this means she’s about to start crying.

“Jus’ think you and Mumma won’t love me anymore… because you’ll be too busy playing with him,” She looks over in her brother’s direction, not even wanting to say his name. “I bet he’ll get more cuddles than me.”

Your heart breaks at the fact that your daughter thinks you and Harry don’t have enough love in your heart for her and her baby brother. “Ally, come over here and lie next to Mumma,” you call out quietly. Harry picks her up and brings her over to you, laying her on your bed cautiously to make sure she doesn’t accidentally get tangled in any of your IV’s.

“Baby, there’s nothing and no one on this planet that could make me and Daddy love you any less. We have enough love in our hearts for you and Oliver. Do you understand?” You ask. She doesn’t say anything.

“D’ya wanna hold him?” Harry offers, looking at his mom and sister who have hopeful looks in their eyes. They know how difficult it’s been for Ally to accept a new sibling, as Anne and Gemma have both reassured you countless times when you’ve vented to them about it.

“I guess,” she mumbles, looking at her hands. Harry tries a different approach.

“I see yeh had a new bear in your hand when yeh walked in. Is that for your brother?” Ally looks at the bear that she had discarded on the chair and nods slowly.

“Auntie Gem got Mumma flowers, an’ grandma got balloons. So I wanted to get something too,” she tells him, looking between yours and Harry’s faces. He smiles widely at this and reaches to grab the bear.

“That’s so thoughtful of yeh, bug. See? You’re a natural big sister! Did Auntie Gem teach you some things when I wasn’t around?” Ally chuckles at this, playing with the stuffed animal’s legs. “Do yeh wanna hold him and give him the bear, Ally?”

She quickly nods, a noticeable shift in her mood. Harry tries to hide his excitement as he walks over to Oliver’s bassinet, who was now starting to wake up. He coos when Harry picks him up, and you’re relieved when he doesn’t burst into tears like he has been for the past few hours.

“Hold your arms like this,” you demonstrate for your daughter, situating her body next to you so she could hold her brother without hurting him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Gemma pull out her phone and start recording.

“Ready for him?” Harry questions. Ally nods and Harry slowly places her brother in her arms. “Make sure yeh hold the back of his head, bug. Can’t let it dangle.” You help her readjust her hand placement to offer more support to Oliver’s head. Ally looks up, a dimpled smile on her face.

“He’s so little!” She exclaims, staring back down at him in awe. You and Harry look at each other, tears filling your eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

“He is, isn’t he?” You ask, quickly wiping under your eyes. Anne places her hand on your shoulder, looking down at her grandson with a look of pure adoration in her eyes.

“He’s beautiful,” she gushes, sounding slightly choked up. “He’s got eyes just like yours, Ally.” You see her smile at this, but she doesn’t look up, not wanting to stop staring at her new brother. She reaches carefully with the hand, not supporting her brother’s head to grab the stuffed bear she picked out for him, setting it next to him.

“This is for you, Olly,” she says, placing the bear beside him. “You can sleep with him every night!”

Harry glances at you again, a look of relief on his face. “Olly, is it, bug? He has a nickname just like yours,” he tells her, reaching over you to smooth her hair. “Ally and Olly. I like tha’.” Your heart is full, and your family is complete.

At least, for now.

[chipper9906]

Bound To You - Chapter 3: Internal Talks

<--- Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 6,133

Overall Word Count: 17,730

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (3/?)

Chapter Preview: 

“You know, just once it’d be nice for the Universe not to screw us over. You’d think we’d earned a break by now-,”

Dean was interrupted by a splash of holy water hitting his face, about half of it getting into his mouth. He scrunched his eyes shut against the onslaught of water, swinging his mouth closed and leaning his head to the side to spit the holy water onto the floor.

“Fair enough…” Dean mumbled, pulling up the bedsheets and drying off his face. “Pretty sure soaking a cripple on his first day earns you a one-way ticket to Hell, Sammy.”

Link To Fic

OR

Click Below To Keep Reading

Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

Seeing his older brother like this was heart-breaking.

They had both had their fair share of injuries. A few stints in hospitals across the country over the years. Of course, the introduction of Castiel into their lives had dramatically reduced those visits, having their own personal angel who was willing to heal up any scrape or… potentially life-threatening injuries.

Dean had always been a pillar of strength in his life. Only in rare times did he ever see his brother look so broken, so dependant on another. Now, seeing his frail body in this hospital bed, surrounded by multiple beeping machines with countless wires coming out of him… it was a sight he almost couldn’t bear to see.

Eileen’s gentle touch on his shoulder pulled his gaze away from Dean. He turned on the uncomfortable plastic chair to face her, giving her an appreciative smile as she handed him yet another cup of coffee.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try and get some sleep?” Eileen asked him, rubbing her hand across his back soothingly. “I can stay here and watch over him.”

“I’m okay,” Sam brushed off her concern, though made sure to brush her arm by his back to show his thanks for her worry. “I don’t want to leave him yet… I’ll have to get back to the bunker soon anyway to pick up some stuff for him. Ah, and... I’ll have to try and find a pet-friendly motel nearby…”

Eileen’s hand paused on his back. “…Why?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” Sam said with an amused huff. “We, uh- Dean actually found this dog after… after Chuck wiped everyone off the board. She got wiped away too shortly after because Chuck… well, he’s Chuck. She was brought back when everyone else got brought back and… Dean couldn’t leave her there.”

“Didn’t you say Dean wasn’t really a fan of dogs?”

“I think Miracles an exception. Don’t tell him I said this, but… I think Miracle is the only thing keeping Dean together after what happened to Cas. He’s not doing great even with her, but if she wasn’t here with us…” Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head as the awful memories flooded back. “You didn’t see him when Cas died right as Jack was being born. Mom was gone, and we had to see Lucifer shove that angel blade right through Cas, and… he couldn’t move. He dropped down by Cas’s side, and… He wasn’t the same until Jack brought Cas back. It was scary to see him that way. The anger I could deal with, you know? It was how Dean coped, finding something to blame, and… he directed all that at Jack. But when he wasn’t angry… it was like a part of him died with Cas. Like he wanted to just… give up.”

“They really mean a lot to each other, don’t they?” Eileen said wistfully.

“You have no idea,” Sam chuckled. “According to Cas, he and Dean ‘share a more profound bond’.”

“A what?”

“Cas’s words, not mine,” Sam raised his hands in the air with another short burst of laughter. “I assumed it was because Cas rescued Dean from hell, but Cas did the same for me and we never formed a ‘profound bond’ like Cas has with Dean.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous,” Eileen teased him, giving his shoulder a light squeeze with a playful smile.

"Oh, trust me – I’m glad Cas directed most of his attention towards Dean. Do you have any idea the number of times I’ve been caught in the middle of the conversation between the two of them with just their eyes? Cas got better over time, but the staring? He was always kind of awkward with stuff like that, but with Dean… they somehow managed to talk to each other entirely with looks.”

“It makes sense,” Eileen noted. “Cas probably learned a lot about humans from Dean. He’s probably able to get a better read from Dean on how he feels by looking at him than just listening to him. I know I haven’t known Dean as long as you guys have, but I get the feeling Dean isn’t the kind of guy to tell the truth when it comes to how he feels?”

“It’s a rare occasion…” Sam mumbles. “I made the mistake of asking him what actually happened to Cas. He told me and Jack that Cas died to save him, but that was it. I know it’s painful for Dean, but… I miss Cas too… He’s one of my oldest friends, and I don’t even know how he died.”

“What happened when you asked?” Eileen pried.

“Just repeated what he told me before. Said ‘Cas saved my life, Sammy. That’s all you need to know’. Next morning, I found him slumped over the library table with books about the afterlife splayed about the place and an empty bottle of scotch in his hands.”

“Afterlife? You think he was trying to find a way to get Cas out of the Empty?”

“Must have been. I’d done the same… but there’s barely anything about the Empty in any of the documents the Men of Letter’s keep. It’s been so unknown for so long there’s just… nothing about it anywhere.” Sam told her, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

“Hm… I know if our roles were swapped, and it was you trapped in that place? I don’t think I’d be coping much better than Dean is.”

Something about the sentiment behind Eileen’s words sparked a realization within Sam’s mind. His gaze switched from Eileen to his brother, his face slipping into an expression of pity as all the strange moments between his best friend and his brother connected in his mind. “Oh, Dean… you’re never going to get over him, are you?”

“No, he won’t,” Eileen said, her words getting Sam to turn and face her again. “What Dean’s lost… you never really get over it. The pain never truly lessens, but… you get used to it.”

* * *

Sam had been slumped over in his chair, dead to the world when he was woken abruptly by Eileen roughly shoving his shoulder.

“Sam!” She called his name urgently. “Sam, it’s Dean! I think he’s waking up.”

Sam snapped back into consciousness at that, blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright lights of the hospital room. His gaze landed on Dean’s form, his breath hitching in surprise as Dean’s eyes flutter open. He sees the moment Dean truly comes to, eyes widening in panic at the unfamiliar surroundings. Dean raises his hand to his nose immediately, very nearly tugging out the IV line in his hand as he attempted to remove the nasal cannula wrapped around his face.

The doctor from before was by Dean’s bedside before Sam could even fully stand from his chair, who was forced to stand awkwardly behind the Doctor as he looked over Dean.

“Mr. Winchester? I’m Dr. Sullivan, I’m a surgeon here at Aultman Hospital in Canton, Ohio,” Dr. Sullivan told Dean as he gently pried Dean’s hands away from the fragile medical equipment. “Do you understand what I’ve told you so far?”

Dean’s panicked eyes fixated on Dr. Sullivan, giving a quick nod of his head at the doctor's question.

“Where’s Sammy?” Were the first words Dean croaked out.

“Your brother is right here, Mr. Winchester,” The doctor stepped off to the side, placing Sam into Dean’s line of vision. The panic visibly dropped away from Dean’s expression the second he caught sight of Sam. Then, Dean’s gaze slid over to where Eileen hovered nearby Sam, his face quickly twisting in confusion as he took her in.

“Now, I just need to perform a few quick checks on you, Mr. Winchester.” Dr. Sullivan continued on, not privy to the dumbfoundment Dean was currently trying to work through. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Dean,” Dean answered, knowing there was no point in giving a fake name seeing as the Doctor already knew his last time. “My name is Dean Winchester.”

“Fantastic,” Dr. Sullivan commented with an encouraging smile. “And we’ve already gathered that you know your brother and what his name is, so I guess we can skip that one. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Dean turned anxious eyes over to his brother. It was very unlikely that Sam told the Doctor what actually happened. Otherwise, the Doctor wouldn’t be holding together his professionalism quite as well as he is right now.

“I was attacked,” Dean went with something safe. “I… there was this metal bar… it went through me.”

“Good,” Dr. Sullivan said. Dean almost laughed. How was that good? “How do you feel?”

“Like I got impaled by a metal pole…” Dean responded dryly, wincing at the pulsating ache that sat within his back.

The Doctor cracked a sly smile at Dean’s comment, pulling a clipboard off the end of Dean’s bed. “Sense of humor’s good, a good way to cope. But to be more specific Mr. Winchester, I need you to rate your pain on a scale from one to ten. One being mild discomfort and ten being the worst.”

“Probably around a six,” Dean answered truthfully. Sure, the ache in his back was painful, but he knows it could be worse.

“Okay…” Dr. Sullivan mumbled under his breath as he scribbled away at his clipboard. “Your IV drip is attached to a steady supply of morphine right now; It should help to dull some of the more intense pain, but the effects may begin to wear off after some time. If the pain gets worse, let us know and we’ll up the dose for you.”

“Eh… I’ve been through worse, Doc.” Dean let his head drop back into the scratchy hospital pillow, closing his eyes against the bright ceiling lights.

“I’m not too sure I believe that Mr. Winchester. Though I can tell you you’re a lucky, lucky man.”

“Yeah? I don’t feel too lucky…”

“I’m not sure what else you’d call surviving a rebar to the chest other than ‘lucky’. How it missed all of your organs…” The doctor’s voice trailed off as he shifted off to a table to the side, plucking up a pair of latex gloves and snapping them on his hands. “Now, Mr. Winchester… during your surgery, we discovered some severe damage to your thoracic lumbar-,”

“My what?” Dean interrupted Dr. Sullivan.

“It’s the section of your spine just below your shoulder blades, running to the center of your back,” Dr. Sullivan answered. “When the rebar entered your back, it was forced in between two of your vertebrae. Those two were shattered, and a few above and below were fractured and pushed out of alignment. The damage to the vertebrae themselves, we were actually able to fix for the most part with the help of some titanium pins. Unfortunately, we noticed some evidence of trauma to your spinal cord.”

Sam���s heart twisted in sympathy at the way his brother's face fell. Perhaps Dean had been expecting to hear this, for he didn’t look shocked by the doctor’s words, but he most definitely looked crushed.

The doctor peeled back the sheets covering Dean, exposing his lower body to them. The doctor stepped down to the end of the bed, pressing a glove covered finger into the middle of the underside of Dean’s foot. “Can you feel this, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean couldn’t only weakly shake his head side to side, not trusting his voice to keep steady right now. He followed the doctor’s movement as he straightened back up, taking a step forward and placing a hand over Dean’s lower leg, giving his calf a gentle squeeze. “How about this?”

Again, Dean shakes his head no.

“Can you try moving your legs for me? Nothing too strenuous, just a small shift to the side will do.”

Dean stared down at his legs lying motionless on the hospital bed, certain he had never concentrated on a part of his body so hard in order to get it to move. But… no matter how hard he tries to get his legs to move… they don’t. Nothing happens, not even a twitch of his muscles. They just… lay there.

Dean doesn’t have to say anything for them to know he couldn’t do it. His face said it all.

“I’m going to touch your upper body now, okay Mr. Winchester? We just need to get an idea of where the paralysis starts.”

Paralysis. That single word bounced around in Dean’s skull. It… it couldn’t be possible. That happened to other people. It… it couldn’t happen to him, could it?

Dean’s thoughts are interrupted by the doctor’s prying fingers pressing against his ribs. Dean instinctively hisses at the pain – healed, but still sore- raising an arm to swat away the Doctor’s hand.

Wait a minute… He could feel that.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, it seems you are just full of surprises,” Dr. Sullivan said with a pleased smile. “We assumed that, with the damage, you would have lost all feeling below the injury. Seems like you still have some sensation of touch in your upper body, and we’ve already seen that you still retain full control of your arms. I think we’re well past calling you ‘lucky’. It’s a damn right miracle.”

“And what about my legs?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. “Will they… will they be like this forever? Could they heal?”

Doctor Sullivan sighed, peeling the gloves off his hands. “I want to be honest with you here; it’s very unlikely for you to regain feeling in your legs. I’m not one to say never however, and with the rapid advances of modern medicine, we really never know. But I also don’t want to give you false hope, Mr. Winchester.”

“So, this is it?” The defeated tone in Dean’s voice crumpled what was left of Sam’s strength. “I can’t walk?”

“For the time being… no. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. I truly am,” Dr. Sullivan shifted his sympathetic expression over to Sam and Eileen, giving them a respectful nod as he began shuffling over to the exit of the room. “I’ll be back later to run some more tests. I’ll give you three a moment.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Sam just about got out before Dr. Sullivan slipped out of the room. Dean was staring dejectedly down at his legs, willing them to suddenly fix themselves and start moving again. Sam shot an anxious look over to Eileen, who looked torn between comforting Dean or comforting Sam.

“…You okay, Dean?” Sam asked, taking a few awkward steps closer to his brother’s side. The glare Dean shot up at him answered his question in more ways than words could. The glare quickly dropped from Dean’s face, crumpling in on himself, trying to hide away from his brother’s woeful gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean assured them, putting on a clearly fake smile. “I’ll get used to it… ‘s gonna take some adjusting, is all.”

“Do you need anything?” Eileen offered timidly, hanging by Sam’s side. “Some water, maybe?”

“Could use a stiffer drink than that,” Dean joked. “Could also use an explanation as to how you’re here? You were gone when Chuck snapped everyone away.”

“Well…” Eileen said uncomfortably, sharing a worried look with Sam. “I don’t actually know…”

“It’s one of many things we’re trying to figure out. Shortly after I got you here, Eileen was dropped back where she was.” Sam said.

“What, two weeks after everyone came back?”

“Seems like it,” Sam said.

Dean leaned his head back, closing his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Sam took the opportunity of Dean averting his eyes to reach into his pocket, pulling out a metal flask and quietly unscrewing the lid.

“You know, just once it’d be nice for the Universe not to screw us over. You’d think we’d earned a break by now-,”

Dean was interrupted by a splash of holy water hitting his face, about half of it getting into his mouth. He scrunched his eyes shut against the onslaught of water, swinging his mouth closed and leaning his head to the side to spit the holy water onto the floor.

“Fair enough…” Dean mumbled, pulling up the bedsheets and drying off his face. “Pretty sure soaking a cripple on his first day earns you a one-way ticket to Hell, Sammy.”

Before Dean could crack another joke, Sam had slid the angel blade out of his pocket, advancing towards Dean. He could see the moment Dean recognized what was in his hands, eyes widening in alarm as Sam moved closer.

“Woah, Woah, wait – Sammy!”

Sam didn’t let him say anything else, He grabbed his brother by the arm, pulling it straight and slicing across the tender skin. To Sam’s horror, the cut that appeared quickly flared with a bluish light, stitching up the small gash instantaneously. Sam’s eyes flickered up to see that same blue light appear in Dean’s eyes, completely overtaking the green of his irises until all Sam could see was that dazzling blueish white light.

“Sam, stop!” Dean’s posture had changed completely. He had straightened up as much as his damaged spine would let him, his movements stiff and uncoordinated as he reached out a hand to stop Sam. His voice had dropped a few octaves, impossibly deep in tone to the point it sounded like Dean’s vocal cords were being shredded apart.

Sam pressed the angel that was possessing his brother into the bed with one hand on its shoulder, holding the angel blade against its neck. The thing using Dean’s eyes glances down anxiously to the blade, the angel’s hand on his arm insistently pushing him away. Eileen stood nearby, checking the door to make sure no one would come into the room.

“Stop cutting Dean,” The angel commanded urgently. “I don’t have enough grace left to keep healing him like this.”

“Which one are you?” Sam spat at him, pressing the blade even closer as a threat. “Why the hell are you possessing my brother?”

“To save his life,” The angel insisted. “And to save mine. Sam, it’s me. It’s Cas.”

Sam blinked in surprise, lessening the pressure on Dean’s neck without really thinking about it. “Cas? No, that’s… that’s not possible… Dean said, he… You’re dead.”

“And so was Eileen,” Castiel pointed out, giving a small nod of his head towards the woman in question, careful not to catch himself on the blade against his neck.

“I don’t believe you,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “You can’t be Cas. You just… you can’t be.”

“When we first met, Dean had to stop you from shooting me,” Castiel began, the statement catching Sam off guard. “You were rather star-struck upon meeting me; having been the first time you had met an angel. My opinion of you at the time was rather harsh: the boy with the demon blood. But Dean helped me to see you in a different light. In the way he sees you. It was enough for me to be willing to dive back into Hell and recover your soul after you sacrificed yourself for the world.”

Sam was frozen in place, gaze fixated on the eyes that were his brothers, but also weren’t.

“Once, years after meeting you, I realized just how similar we were. Our fear of failing those we love, of letting down those we lead. Our willingness to sacrifice ourselves for the ‘greater good’. You nearly got yourself killed trying to make things right, to track down Gadreel and bring him to justice. But I wouldn’t do what you asked. I had to make you see your life was more valuable than that.”

The blade slipped away from Cas’s neck, held loosely in Sam’s hand as he stared down at Dean Cas in disbelief. “…Cas?

Castiel visibly relaxed as the blade dropped away from his neck, giving Sam a firm nod in response. Sam stood agape for a few more seconds before throwing himself forward, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and pulling Cas into an awkwardly angled hug. Sam knew it was definitely Cas when Dean’s hands come to rest at his back, giving Sam a few clumsy pats before committing to the hug and squeezing Sam closer.

Yep. That’s Cas, alright.

“How the hell are you alive?” Sam asked once they broke apart, glancing over to Eileen to gauge her reaction. Eileen was still stood by the door, looking unsure as to what she should do now. Sam tucked the angel blade back into his jacket, sitting back down in the chair next to Dean’s bed. “Dean said you were gone?”

“I was,” Cas answered. “I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you or your brother. Dean knows now of course, but… I had made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Eileen asked warily from beside the door, eyes flickering between Sam and Castiel. “A demon deal?”

Castiel shook his head. “I have no soul to barter with a Demon, so, no. This was shortly after Jack had succumbed to his illness, you see. When I found him in Heaven, we were being chased by the Empty.”

“The Empty can get into Heaven?” Sam asked.

“Apparently so. It believed that, since Jack was part angel, he belonged to the Empty after death. However, Heaven had already claimed Jack, because of his soul. I didn’t have a choice, Sam. I offered myself up to the Empty in exchange for Jack’s life. The Empty took that deal.”

“But… it’s been over a year since we lost Jack,” Sam questioned, brows furrowing in his confusion. “Why hadn’t the Empty taken you? Why now?”

Castiel tore his gaze away from Sam, looking at anything in the room other than the two pairs of peering eyes. “The Empty added an extra part to our deal. It would only take me… once I experienced a moment of true happiness.”

Sam glanced over to Eileen at this, matching expressions of wonder on their faces. It was rare to see Castiel this uncomfortable during a conversation.

“Billie was dying, and she wanted to take me and Dean with her,” Castiel continued before Sam could add anything.  “Dean and I had barely just escaped her for the moment, but I could only buy us a few extra minutes before she got to us. So… I did the only thing I could. I summoned the Empty by fulfilling our deal, and it took Billie with me.”

“And… you fulfilled your deal by… experiencing a moment of true happiness?” Sam timidly asked.

“Yes,” Castiel was still refusing to meet Sam’s gaze, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“…You’re not going to tell me what that was, are you?”

“No.”

Castiel’s answer wasn’t all too surprising to Sam. While it was true that Castiel had opened up to him more over the years they’ve known each other, he was still quite reserved when it came to these kinds of things. Probably something he picked up from Dean… And yet, Castiel’s hesitation actually gave away more than he was probably intending to. A moment of true happiness. Castiel had managed to experience a moment of true happiness – with Dean. And now, as Sam thinks to the extra bottles of beer he found lying around the Bunker, and Dean’s sudden urge to be all cuddly with Miracle… he’s beginning to understand why Dean had been mourning Cas just a little differently than he had last time.

“Cas… if the deal was fulfilled, then… how did you get out?” Sam asked.

Castiel was grateful for the subject change, some of the tension in his posture slipping away. “Your brother, I believe. When Dean was… when he was dying, he began praying to me.”

“He reached you in the Empty?” Eileen asked, voice alight with incredulity.

“Dean and I… our bond is rare. There aren’t many angels that know humans on a personal level. Most prayers to angels are of the common ones we get: asking for help, for guidance, for a show of faith. They’re rarely ever directed at those individual angels. And they’re never usually packed with so much emotion. Especially not… not…”

“Not what?” Sam pressed on.

“Those emotions aren’t typically for that angel. Jack was able to reach me in the Empty with a combination of his powers, and his desire to have me back. Dean was able to reach me through his fear of death, his desperation to have someone save him… and his longing to see me again.”

Sam didn’t really know how he was supposed to respond to that. This was a conversation about his brother that seemed a bit more… intimate than he’s comfortable with. Especially when he knows Dean is sat somewhere within his own body, perhaps even listening into their conversation right now.

“Wow… Uh, I mean - - I’m still a little shell shocked at the minute… Don’t get me wrong, I’m… I’m thrilled to have you back, Cas. I missed you. You and Jack. Except, at least with Jack I knew he was still here, but… you were dead, and Dean wouldn’t talk to me about it, and… it’s all been a bit much.”

“I can imagine,” Castiel said with an understanding smile.

“What’s the deal with… you know-” Sam gestured to Dean’s body. “-This. Why are you possessing Dean? What happened to your body?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when an odd look twisted across his features. It almost looked like he was trying to listen for something, his eyes dull and unfocused.

“Uh… Cas?” Sam asked, snapping his fingers in front of Cas’s face. “You there, man?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, a bit more clarity coming into his eyes. “Apologies, but Dean is getting rather uncomfortable being ‘forced into the passenger’s seat’.” Castiel raised his hands to place quotation marks over the words.

“Okay… what does that-,”

Dean’s body straightened up again, eyes flashing with angelic grace before returning to the usual soft green eyes of his brother. Dean blinked in a daze as he came back into his own body, giving a little shiver to try and clear the odd feeling.

“Man, that’s gonna take some getting used to,” Dean muttered, his voice raised back to his usual tone. “I’m kinda glad Michael placed me into that fake dream world while he was possessing me…”

“You say that like this isn’t going to be temporary…” Sam noted.

“For the time being… this is all we’ve got,” Dean replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Cas is too weak to jump into another vessel after using up nearly all his grace to keep my dumb ass from dying. So yeah, for the time being, Cas is shacking up in my head.”

“For how long?”

“No idea. Current plan of action is to find a way to recreate his body again.”

“Recreate?” Eileen spluttered, interjecting into the brother’s conversation.

“Doesn’t sound easy, does it?” Dean replied gloomily. “The Empty pretty much deleted Cas’s body when it took him. No way of getting it back…”

“Well, what about his grace?” Sam threw out the suggestion. “Isn’t there a way we can ‘recharge’ it back to normal levels?”

‘Not without potentially throwing Heaven into chaos, no.’

Dean startled so harshly at the voice in his head that it got Sam to his feet in seconds, ready to sprint out of the room and find a Doctor in the fear that his brother was having some sort of seizure.

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean spoke out loud to the room, only confusing Sam and Eileen more. “How the hell did you do that?”

‘Do what? Talk to you? Like this.’

‘Yeah, but you’re talking in my head.’

‘As are you.’

‘What?’

‘You’re not speaking out loud, Dean. Only I can hear you when we talk like this.’

“Dean!”

Dean snapped back to reality at his brother’s distraught voice. Sam was shaking his shoulder whilst Eileen had seemingly teleported to his side, an equally anxious look on her face.

“What the hell was that, Dean?” Sam demanded. “You just zoned out on us!”

‘You’ll have to work on diverting your attention between what’s happening and what I’m saying, or you might freak out the doctors and we’ll have to stay in the hospital longer.’

“Whoa…” Dean exclaimed, raising a hand to his head. “This is weird…”

“What’s weird?” Sam asked, voice growing more agitated at Dean’s elusiveness.

“Me and Cas have got this weird Vulcan mind mend thing going on,” Dean answered, tapping at his head. “He’s talking in my head; and apparently… I can talk back to him too?”

“Uh… you sure you didn’t… imagine it?” Sam asked.

‘I can assure you Dean that you aren’t suffering from any brain damage that would lead to hallucinations of my voice.’

“Cas says I’m not crazy, so yeah - I’m pretty sure, Sammy,” Dean answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, does that mean Cas can hear and see everything you’re seeing?” Eileen sounded genuinely fascinated by all of this.

‘Yes, so long as you want me to, Dean. With enough effort, you would be able to block me out. Although, at my currently weakened state, it likely wouldn’t take much effort at all.’

‘Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you, Cas. Makes it easier this way anyway – you could probably point out stuff I don’t usually pick up on. And this way, you can still be part of the conversation; though guess I have to be your translator to pass on the message.’

‘Thank you, Dean… Eileen and Sam are looking worried again, you might want to refocus yourself.’

Sure enough, when Dean focused back into reality, Sam looked about ready to slap him back into the conversation. “Sorry, I promise I’ll get better at listening to Cas and talking at the same time. And yeah, Cas says he can hear and see everything I do.”

‘With your permission.’

“With my permission,” Dean adds.

“Huh… must be weird for Cas to be possessing you.”

“Why’s that?” Dean asked with a questioning frown.

“Well – I assume you’re the one that’s going to be in control most of the time, right?”

“That’s the plan, yeah,” Dean answered.

“Then it’s probably going to be weird having it the other way around.”

‘I have experienced this before when Lucifer was possessing me. You are a much better companion than Lucifer, Dean, so it’s not too weird.’

‘Is that a compliment? I’m assuming it’s a compliment. Doubt it takes much to be a better companion than freakin’ Lucifer, though.’

‘I suppose not. But there’s no other human I would want to share a body with than you, Dean.’

“Alright, Cas is getting weird so I’m going to cut him off,” Dean told them with a strained smile. “Cas said he’s cool with it.”

“Uh-huh… That all he said?” Sam pressed his brother for more.

“Hey, I’ll tell you everything Cas directs to you. Everything Cas says to me, is my business.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched as he fought hard to keep his laughter from bubbling out. “Dean, that… you’ve got to realize how that just sounded.”

‘I don’t understand… how did it sound?’

‘Sammy probably thinks you’re talking dirty to me in my head.’

‘Oh… I’m… not?’

‘I know you’re not, Cas. Sam’s just being nosy.’

“Good job, Sam. You embarrassed Cas,” Dean scolded him.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, but you implied something, and it made Cas uncomfortable.”

‘Maybe it would be best if I left for a bit…’

‘What? No, Cas – you don’t have to do that. I’ll change the subject.’

“I made Cas uncomfortable? You sure it’s not you that’s uncomfortable?” Sam continued to tease.

“Whatever you say, Sammy,” Dean conceded with hands raised in the air.

“Isn’t there more important things we should be talking about?” Eileen cut into their childish sibling argument. “We still don’t know what brought me back, or why. And rebuilding Cas’s body? Do we even know if that’s possible?”

“We won’t know until we look into it further,” Dean answered, turning cautious eyes over to the door, unsure as to whether the footsteps he heard were heading towards their room. “And we can’t do that until we get back home to the bunker…”

‘Dean… I think the doctors are going to want to keep you in the hospital for a few more days… And I’m inclined to agree with them.’

‘What? I feel fine-,’

‘We’re sharing a body, Dean. I know you’re not ‘fine’. You only feel fine for the moment because of the painkillers you’re on. You need a few extra days for your body to heal and adjust to its alterations.’

‘If the only problem is me handling pain, I can assure you I can do that from the bunker, Cas.’

‘It’s not just that, Dean. I… I can’t heal you anymore. At all. If something were to go wrong, if you re-damaged your back and began bleeding internally… there’s nothing I could do. Please, just… a few extra days here is all I ask.’

‘Dammit… Alright, fine, Cas. Only because you asked so nicely…’

Dean decided not to add his crippling fear of what would happen to Cas if something happened to him.

’Thank you, Dean.’

‘Yeah, yeah… Besides, it’s not like we have to worry about a time limit this go around. You’re good so long as you don’t use any of your grace, right?’

‘Oh, um… yes. Yes, I should be fine if I don’t use any.’

“Alright, clearly you and Cas want some alone time,” Sam teased Dean mercilessly, giving Dean’s leg a light slap as he stood from the chair.

“What? No! That’s not-,”

“I’m joking, Dean,” Sam said with a smile, much too pleased with himself for Dean’s liking. “I need to go talk to the doctor about how long they think you need to stay… Then I really need to head back to the bunker and check up on Miracle; find a place that’ll take her while we’re here.”

“Oh, I see. The dog’s more important than your poor injured brother, huh?”

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t kick my ass for leaving her there alone.”

“You two have a very weird sibling dynamic…” Eileen said with a shake of her head.

‘Can you tell Eileen I couldn’t agree with her more?’

‘Don’t you start sassing me in my head, Cas.’

“Cas said he agrees with you…” Dean mumbled dejectedly, passing on Cas’s message.  Sam embarrassingly signed the message to Eileen who couldn’t make out Dean’s mumbles, cracking into laughter at the two brother’s shame at being called out.

“You want me to pick up anything from the bunker while I’m there?” Sam asked over the last of Eileen’s giggles. “Some books, maybe?”

“Could use my laptop for research – and no, not the ‘sexy’ type of research, before you say it.”

‘Sexy research?’

‘Porn, Cas. Porn.’

‘Oh… Um, if you could warn me in advance before you watch such content, I’ll put myself to sleep-,’

‘Stop talking, Cas. Stop talking right now.’

Dean already knew his face was burning a bright red. Sam and Eileen’s questioning looks were enough evidence of that

“…Laptop, got it,” Sam said after quite the gap in their conversation. “Uh… anything else?”

“A new change of clothes for when I get out of here… Don’t really fancy struggling out of here in this hospital gown with my ass hanging out in the wind.”

“You could have stopped at the first sentence. I really didn’t need that image in my head.” Sam said, face scrunching with disgust as he pulled the Impala’s keys out of his jacket pocket. “You gonna be okay here on your own for the night?”

“I’m not on my own. I’ve got Cas, remember?” Dean said, a smile creeping onto his face at the thought. Sam rolled his eyes as he turned away – for what reason Dean didn’t want to think about – gesturing with head to Eileen to follow him out of the room.

‘Ain’t that right, Cas? You’ll keep me company for the night, won’t you?’

The silence Dean got from his head was enough for the light-hearted smile on his face to slip away.

‘…Cas?’

‘You told me to stop talking.’

Dean snorted out loud, the sound catching Sam and Eileen off guard just before they stepped out from the room, sharing knowing looks and sly smiles with one another.

‘Damn… You have no idea how much I missed you, Cas.’

* * *

Next Chapter --->

[my-proof-is-you]

Healing You - Ch. 4

Summary: You were pretty close to dying, you were sure. It was going to be over, and what would you have to show for it?

A great career as a nurse, sure. But you lacked passion and romance in your life.

Luckily, a handsome man with piercing green eyes saves you. While you were sure you’d never see him again, life had other plans for you.

Series Masterlist

Dean

“So what’re you saying?” Dean asked his brother indignantly.

“I’m just saying that Y/N is pretty badass. Not to mention beautiful,” Sam replied. The brothers were driving home from a simple salt-and-burn, Dean’s music playing softly in the background.

“So?” Dean said.

“So, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to admit that you’ve been thinking about her.”

Dean rolled his eyes. As much as he would never admit it to his brother, he had been thinking about you a lot since you walked out his door a week ago. He had thought countless times about how your y/h/c hair fell lightly over your face as you worked to remove his bullet; how your light and sweet scent mixed with the sterile smell of the hospital’s hand soap; how you had a small smile on your face when you told him about your job.

He shook his head to clear it. “So what if I have?”

“Then you should call her!” Sam exclaimed.

“Sammy, the point is moot. One, Y/N has a life and a job, she doesn’t need to be pulled into our mess. And B, even if I did like her, there’s no saying she is even remotely interested in me.”

Sam sighed. “You are such a wimp.”

“I’m not a wimp, bitch,” Dean replied.

“Jerk.” With that the brothers were quiet. Dean’s mind, however, wondered back to you again. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, bringing one hand to rub the stubble on his chin. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to think. He did think you were pretty cool, and Sam was right--you were hot. But dating wasn’t really his thing. He usually did hookups.

And besides, you had a job and a life. It’s not like you’d want to spend time with what basically amounts to a drifter. Sure, they had the bunker. But they were in and out a lot. Not exactly the kind of ride you’d want to hitch your wagon to.

So Dean tamped down any feelings he had rolling around his stomach. He couldn’t have you, and that was it. It was just easier that way.

You

You huffed out a sigh and sat down at the nurses’ station, resting your head in your arms on the counter.

“You okay?” Jenny asked, shuffling papers on the other side of the counter.

“Can I go home yet?” you asked, your voice muffled by your arms.

“Hmm I think a twelve-hour shift is supposed to be twelve hours,” she said.

“I guess,” you said, lifting your head.

“Been a rough shift?”

“Actually, I’m kind of bored,” you replied.

“Bored? There was a ten car pile-up today. You’ve been running around like a crazy person till now,” she said incredulously.

“I know. And I love my job, I do. But something is just...missing.”

Jenny’s face softened. “Well I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.” She paused. “But until then, there’s a crotchety old man in 605 that is impossible to stick.”

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle. “I’m on it,” you said, preparing yourself to try to put an IV in a man that would probably act like a toddler.

When you got home that night, you took a long, hot bath to get the stench of hospital off of you and relax. You were pensive as the suds floated around you, as you often were when you took a bath. There was something about the relaxation that cleared your mind of all the little things so you could think about things that were really on your mind.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, the wispy hairs that had fallen from your ponytail getting wet. A picture sprang before your mind’s eye, one that had been bothering you often.

Fangs.

Not only did you see the fangs of the vampires that held you captive, but you saw the entire situation. It wasn’t even that the monsters had scared you that much. You weren’t sure why, but it was really more the feelings that came with it. It was the fear of death that really scared you.

You squeezed your eyes tight, willing the image to go away. Popping up in its place were a pair of fantastic green eyes, light freckles, and a chiseled jaw.

You smiled to yourself. Regardless of how little you actually knew him, that man was fine.

You picked up your phone from the ledge beside you. You held it for a moment, focusing on your crossed ankles and wiggling toes at the other end of the tub. Deciding you didn’t have much to lose, you opened the messaging app and selected the number that had called you two weeks prior.

Y/N: How’s that shoulder?

You rolled your eyes at yourself after you hit ‘send.’ You hadn’t known how else to start a conversation, though.

You were about to put your phone down and write the idea off when it pinged in your hand.

D: I’ve had worse.

You smiled, sure that what he said was true. Your phone pinged again.

D: Never woulda healed so well without your help, though.

Y/N: Oh, you know, just doing my job. Sam didn’t slip into a coma after I left, did he?

D: No, unfortunately he’s back to his normal smartass self.

Y/N: Come now, where’s the brotherly love?

D: I used it all up patiently listening to him babble the entire four hour road trip we just took.

Y/N: I see.

You didn’t know what else to say, but luckily Dean beat you to the punch.

D: What’ve you been up to?

Y/N: Oh, you know, saving lives, rinsing bedpans...the usual.

D: That sounds...great.

You smiled at his sarcasm.

Y/N: Hey, it’s not like being covered in vampire guts is much better.

D: You got me there, sweetheart.

You felt a little flutter in your stomach at the use of the pet name.

Y/N: Well, anyway, I’m just taking a bath after a long shift.

You wondered momentarily if that was too much information, but shrugged as you sent the text anyway.

D: Mmm, a bath? Any chance I’ll get to see some pics? ;)

Your heart sped up. This was definitely becoming flirty, and you didn’t mind at all. You opened your camera and took a quick snapshot.

Y/N: You mean like this?

You had attached a picture of your feet and calves.

D:   :-|

Y/N: Ohhh, you thought…

D: Yeah, no, that’s exactly what I meant. I love feet. But not in the gross way.

Y/N: Well, that’s all you’re gettin, bub.

D: That’s okay. They’re pretty cute feet.

You felt yourself blush, and you were surprised. Jesus, Y/N, get it together. All he did was compliment your feet for God’s sakes.

The two of you continued to text for a while, and pretty soon you noticed that your water had gone cold.

Y/N: Dude, I gotta get out of this tub and into bed. I’m freezing.

D: Well you shoulda got out a long time ago!

Y/N: You’re right...cough cough...I think...I’ve caught...the consumption…

D: Wow. Four stars, great show.

Y/N: ;) Well, I’m going to bed. Thanks for keeping me company, Dean.

D: It was my pleasure. Sleep tight, sweetheart.

Y/N: Night.

You dried off and slipped on an oversized tee, crawling into bed to warm up. You smiled to yourself, and while you had been having nightmares filled with fangs and death lately, you were pretty sure you would sleep soundly that night.

Dean

Dean smiled at his phone and leaned back in his chair. He was sitting in the library doing research when you texted him.

“Took my advice, huh?”

Dean jumped in his seat. Sam chuckled, standing up to his full height after crouching behind Dean.

“Don’t do that! That’s a good way to get a swift punch to the face,” Dean said, running his hand through his short hair and waiting for his heart rate to return to normal.

“Oh, you’re fine. I knew you’d contact her,” he said with a smirk.

“For your information, she texted me.”

“You really wanna admit to that?” Sam said with an eyebrow raised.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Shut up,” he said, defeated. “Besides, it’s just texting. Not like we’re walkin’ down the aisle.”

“That’s how it all starts nowadays, old man.” Sam said. He sat across from Dean at the library table, resting his long legs on it.

“Whatever, man, she was just checking to see how our injuries are.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes grinning like an idiot,” he replied sarcastically.

“No I have n—shut up!” Dean yelled at his brother. He got up and walked out, ignoring Sam’s snickering as he left.

He couldn’t deny, he had been flirting with you. And you gave it right back. It made him excited, and he hadn’t felt that way about a girl in a long time.

Dean went to bed that night contemplating how he could strike up another conversation as soon as possible.

[arcadenemesis]

How do you keep chasing your dreams when the person running beside you disappears from the race? 

Young defence attorney Takashi Shirogane finds himself alone after the senseless murder of the person dearest to him, and all of the absolute truths he once knew come crashing down around him. When the reason for his path is gone, will he be able to find something new? Is justice the true course, or will he require something more to take down a cold-blooded killer?

The Ace Attorney AU no one needs. This story is based around the events of Dual Destinies, adapted for Voltron. Knowledge of the game isn't necessary, but please be aware spoilers are abound.

Here is a clear example of me succumbing to exactly zero peer pressure and picking up a pen after seven years. Fic through the link and below the cut.

The sensation of phantom fingers was a deeply unsettling and new, alien feeling. A whole body experience that set his nerves afire and shifted his world into an awkward tilt he couldn't right. And yet, it still couldn't compare to the ghost that had settled deep into his chest exactly 3 days, 21 hours and 49 minutes ago. The adjustment to the loss of a limb would likely take years, they had warned him. The loss of Keith would take a lifetime.

"Shiro?"

Pidge's uncertain voice pulled him from his thoughts, forcing himself to look up to where he knew his junior partner would be watching him with concern knitted into her expression, too wary of all he had been through these last few days alone to be annoyed at whatever conversation he had dropped out of. He gave his best attempt at a reassuring smile. He thought it was at least mostly successful.

"Sorry Pidge. Miles away. What were you saying?"

Her gaze drifted uneasily to the IV bag strung up at his side, toying with the frames of her large, round glasses. Shiro was again reminded of how she had closed up when they first arrived at the Garrison Space Centre to examine the scene. The way she had frozen without explanation and ran off with a hasty explanation he had barely heard. His bracelet tightened on his wrist, but when he reached for it, he was met only with air. He corrected to grip the end of the amputated limb, fighting a wince when his collarbone twinged as he adjusted it in the awkward sling held tight to his ribcage. It didn’t escape Pidge’s notice, who eyed the bandage with a pained expression that was anything but subtle.

"It's just... I'm not sure you should be looking at these files right now. Your anaesthesia is probably still affecting you and the doctors said you should be resting."

"I'm fine."

Shiro wasn't sure whether her flinch came from his choice of words or the way he grit them out through his teeth. He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed before trying again.

"I'm fine," he repeated, softly this time. "Keeping my mind on the investigation helps."

Pidge didn't look convinced, mouth opening to object. But in a moment of mercy, she seemed to think best of it. Better still, the little robot draped around her throat stayed silent too.

“It’s day two of Shay’s trial, right?” Best to move the conversation away from him, before she could probe into his feelings. Or worse, say his name. “Allura said you and Rover really turned things around with your emotional analysis of her testimony yesterday.”

Pidge flushed a little under his praise, but then she adjusted her glasses with a sigh. “Yeah, but if the boss hadn’t showed up when she did, we would have been toast. I thought I was ready for my first solo case, but…”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, “you held down the fort. That’s the important thing. Remember what Allura always tells us: A lawyer is someone who smiles no matter how bad it gets.”

Her expression eased a little. “She was asking after you. Shay, I mean. When this is over, I think she’d really like to visit to say thank you and… and sorry too. If it wasn’t for what you did when that bomb went off—”

“What happened wasn’t her fault,” Shiro cut in again quickly, pain shooting down to invisible fingers at the memory.

It came back to him uninvited, pulsing in time with the burn. He remembered the sinking in his stomach when the PD’s bomb technician had interrupted testimony to declare the - quite literally - explosive evidence active and counting down. He remembered Shay’s scream as she was knocked down in the panic. The rush of bodies as he fought the flow of the evacuation of Courtroom 4. It had been instinct to run to her aide and shield her from the blast. Shiro was still yet to unpack the complicated mix of emotions over what had happened next. Bitterness, disbelief, grief… but not regret. Even knowing the price now, it was one he would gladly pay again to save an innocent person’s life.

He said nothing to Pidge of the fact that the last thing he wanted right now was more visitors, more offers of sympathy and pity. Get Well Soon cards and flowers were a bit hard to stomach when there wasn’t much to be done about growing back an arm.

“Tell her focusing on giving her best testimony so you can wrap this case up as quickly as possible is all I ask for. The sooner she’s free, the sooner we can return to Kei… to Kolivan’s case.”

Pidge, not quite catching the slip, nodded with a smile as Rover beeped in affirmation at her throat. “Just watch!” she grinned, stooping to shoulder her satchel. She re-tucked her green blouse into her slacks as she paused by the door. “We’ll be back before you know it. I’m going to get that Not Guilty verdict before lunch.”

Shiro chuckled, but the sound felt distorted and tight in his throat. “I don't doubt it. And hey, Pidge?”

The junior defence attorney paused at the doorway.

“Let me hear you say it.”

The hesitation was only fractional, but Shiro felt the full weight of it until Pidge forced her biggest smile, punching a fist into her palm.

“Pidge Gunderson is fine!”

By the tender age of eleven, Takashi Shirogane had become an expert in sneaking out. Having lived at the Children’s Home for a good portion of his memory, he had learned the habits of the matrons, which stairs squeaked on the way down and how to jimmy the back door just right to escape into the night. With his bed stuffed with his pillows and blankets draped properly, no one was ever the wiser to his nocturnal adventures. Which was why he was startled when he heard a soft sob at the edge of the garden on his way off-grounds.

Curious, he edged forward silently, peering over the garden wall. Just beyond, a small figure sat hunched in the dirt, rubbing furiously at their eyes, shoulders quaking violently as they tried to suppress their sounds in vain.

Shiro vaulted the wall, and red-rimmed violet eyes whipped over to him underneath a mop of black hair when his bare feet hit the ground. Shiro recognised him as the new kid who had arrived this afternoon. He wasn't surprised to see him crying. The very nature of his arrival meant that something terrible must have happened to him, as with all the children who entered the Home. Shiro had comforted countless others before him, reassuring them that the matrons were kind, the food was filling and beds comfortable. Most importantly, everyone always looked out for each other, no matter how long they stayed. But he was surprised to find him outside, after lights out. None of the other children ever made it past their bedroom doors without being caught and sent swiftly back to bed. The new kid must have been a natural in midnight stealth.

The small boy glared at him defiantly, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. “What do you want?” he demanded wetly.

Shiro, having always been a kind child, simply offered a comforting smile. “I was going for a walk and I heard you crying. Can I sit with you?”

The other boy shrugged, sniffing loudly. Taking it as good an invitation as any, Shiro moved closer to plonk himself down to his side.

“My name's Takashi Shirogane. But everyone calls me Shiro,” he said without reservation. “What's your name?”

The boy looked at Shiro sideways, as if confused by his openness. “Keith… Kogane. Just Keith.”

“Nice to meet you Keith,” Shiro beamed brightly. “I don't know what happened, and you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but it's going to be fine. We all know how you feel right now, but it won't last forever.”

Keith looked up at him with those curiously coloured eyes, emphasised only more by the tears gathered in them. He seemed to assess Shiro for a moment again.

“My papa died last week,” he said quietly. “And mama… she disappeared years ago.”

He seemed to fold in on himself, hugging his arms. “I went to some foster family but I ran away. When they caught up with me they took me here.”

Shiro gave a sympathetic smile, shuffling a little closer to place a hand on Keith’s shoulder. The other boy’s spine stiffened at the touch and he looked to the hand and then Shiro’s face in surprise. But whatever he saw there must have soothed him, as he didn't pull away and his posture started to relax again. “I lost both my parents when I was a baby,” Shiro shared. “I don't remember what they look like and I don't have any photos. Just this bracelet my mother left behind.”  He lifted his wrist, shaking the large gold bangle there.  “It helps me tell when people are hiding something from me."

The other boy frowned, scrutinising the piece of jewellery closely. “I don’t believe you.”

“It does!” Shiro laughed, already familiar with the skepticism that came with his gift. “When people aren’t telling the truth, their body language changes. It’s like my bracelet gets tighter and all of a sudden I can see their nervous habits. Like when you said you ran away. You tapped your finger on your knee and looked off to the side—”

“I wasn’t lying,” Keith cut in quickly, too defensively. He must have known, because he suddenly looked crestfallen and buried his head against his knees. “I wasn’t…” He cut himself off with a muffled sniff, then smally, “don’t do that…”

Shiro suddenly felt guilty. “Hey, it’s okay. I had a foster dad before too. He said he would come back when it was safe to get me but…” He shrugged. “It’s not your fault it didn’t work out.” “But it's okay now. The past happened but there's a whole future full of opportunity. Even for a couple of kids like us.”

“How can you say that though?” Keith asked, raising his head and looking entirely unconvinced. “How can you know it's going to be alright in the end?”

“You just have to believe it!” Shiro said earnestly. “We're the ones in charge of our own destiny and no one can tell us otherwise. Whenever I start to forget, I just stand up and shout: ‘Takashi Shirogane is fine!’ You should try it.”

Keith looked around nervously. “I don't know… what if the matrons hear us out here?”

Shiro jumped to his feet, offering his hand to the other boy. “Trust me?”

Keith hesitated only to glance back at the Home, before grasping Shiro's hand, letting him tug him up to his feet to drag him down the pathway and through a large meadow under the moonlight.

It was only when they reached a little run-down shack on a hill that Shiro let go to place his hands on his knees, both boys out of puff.

“Don't worry, no one comes here,” Shiro reassured after he caught his breath. “We can climb up onto the roof and shout from there.”

Keith looked unsure, but followed nonetheless, accepting Shiro's hand again as he scrambled over the gutters. His eyes lit up at he looked down into the valley below. “Hey, is that the Garrison Space Centre down there?” he asked, pointing down to the distant structure, where a rocket stood in construction just off to its right.

Seeing the change in his mood, Shiro jumped onto the topic immediately. “Yep! Sometimes the Centre does a free info day and the Head Matron organises for us to get a tour from Kolivan himself.”

Keith's eyes were practically bugging out of his head. “The Kolivan? The first astronaut to complete a space walk beyond the moon's orbit?”

Shiro nodded enthusiastically. “You seem to know a lot about him already?”

“He's incredible,” Keith practically gushed. He turned his small face up to the night sky, galaxies winking in and out of existence above them. “I heard they're planning a mission to take new samples from the moon.” He reached up, as if trying to pluck the stars from the sky itself. “I wish I could go with them.”

Shiro looked up too, smiling. “You dream of going into space?”

“Mm!”

“My dream is to become a famous defence attorney.”

Keith turned to regard him curiously. “Why?”

“My foster dad was a lawyer. He used to say that his job meant protecting those who can’t protect themselves from injustice. That the law and the people in charge of it don’t always do the right thing. Being an attorney means taking care of some of the most vulnerable people in the world. I want to do that too - save innocent people from punishments they don’t deserve.”

“But what about if they are bad people? How can you tell if they whether they belong in jail or not?”

“I guess that’s where this comes in handy,” Shiro replied, shaking his adorned wrist again, laughing when Keith only scowled in response.

Shiro suddenly scrambled to his feet, offering his hand out again. “Okay, it’s time. Yell it out into the universe. Say ‘Keith Kogane is fine!’”

He could still sense the boy's uncertainty as he let himself be pulled up to stand. Well, okay, it had less to do with Shiro’s innate empathy; Keith had the subtlety of a brick to the face, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him like he had grown another head. And Shiro was capable taking a hint.

“Alright, I'll go first.”

He squared his shoulders, facing out to the Space Centre below, and took a deep breath. “Takashi Shirogane is fine!” He grinned, then turned to Keith. “Now your turn.”

The other boy still looked entirely unconvinced, but he copied nonetheless, steeling himself and cupping his hands around his mouth. He gave Shiro one last side glance before he drew breath.

“... Keith Kogane is fine!”

His voice cracked around the last word, but when he dropped his hands, he sported a ridiculous pout, as if trying very hard not to smile.

“Better, right?” Shiro beamed.

Keith looked down, attempting to hide the quirk to his lips. Shiro caught sight of it anyway, triumphant.

“Yeah… better…”

“Sir, I must advise strongly against this.”

The doctor’s mouth painted a thin, grim line, pen tapping at his clipboard.

“After such a traumatic injury, you should remain under our observation for at 8 days at a bare minimum. Even if we disregard your requirements for competent post-surgical care, there’s still your physical therapy and mental health management we need to oversee. There is an 83.7% chance that you will develop some form of post-traumatic stress disorder without early intervention.”

Shiro worked his bracelet onto his left wrist calmly, settling it in place with a quick shake of his hand. It hadn’t been quite as frustrating, nor as painful, as dressing himself back into his black vest and a new dress shirt, but the task of completing it one-handed had been challenging all the same. He tried not to focus on how foreign it felt there, instead turning his attention to the red jacket folded over the chair beside him.

“Do you intend to hold me for psychiatric assessment, Doctor Slav?” he asked clinically, not glancing up.

He heard the uncomfortable shuffling of feet.

“I think you’re aware already Mr. Shirogane that we have no legal grounds to do so based on our observations so far.”

“Then I would like my release form.” He stood, pulling the jacket to his chest in a tight grip. “I’m aware of the risks I run regarding infection and my physical recovery. But just as I told your nurses, I have no desire to sit here in this hospital longer than absolutely necessary.”

Slav was clearly frustrated, his brow pinching in poorly concealed displeasure.

“But it is necessary Mr Shirogane. Your body has been put through significant stress. Limb amputation is not a surgery you can simply brush off like this. There is a 26.1% chance of atrophy and a 39.8% chance of further ligament and tendon damage if you are reckless in your care. What’s more, Mr Kogane’s death—”

“The release form,” Shiro interrupted curtly between gritted teeth, fingers tightening around the jacket in his hand. “Now.”

The silent stand off lasted only a few moments before the doctor schooled his expression back to one of professional detachment, unclipping a piece of paper from his board.

“Very well. Please read the conditions and initial in each of the boxes. We will require your social security number and signature at the bottom of the second page. The nurse at the front desk will see to your prescription for antibiotics and pain management.”

Shiro draped the jacket around his shoulders before taking the form, pointedly ignoring the childish scrawl of his non-preferred hand as he signed off without reading through. Slav sighed heavily, but didn’t reprimand him.

“I’ll have this processed now,” he said as Shiro handed it back. “But Mr Shirogane,” he continued in sudden soft earnest, “if you have any problems at all, if something doesn’t feel right, come back here immediately so we can ensure your recovery isn’t compromised.”

Shiro swallowed down the tightness in his throat, giving a single nod. The doctor sighed again and swept from the room without another word. Shiro reached up to grip the shoulder of the jacket he wore, turning his face into the high collar and taking a deep breath. Lemongrass and motor oil. He closed his eyes. It was faint, but still there all the same.

“What do you mean? Why would I recognise it at all?”

Shiro could remember the tightening of his bracelet on his right arm when Pidge had spoken. The way she had reacted when they first saw the knife had struck Shiro as unusual. The two of them had seen their fair share of murder weapons together, and even if the blood on this one seemed to seep into him like a slow poison, there was no explanation for when she had stopped still to stare at it wide-eyed. Grief and other interfering emotions had long been pushed aside for the sake of the case, but the curiosity Shiro had felt then was genuine. The moment he had quizzed her about it, her tells had lit up immediately, his bracelet helping him focus in on the way she worried her lip between her teeth as she adjusted her glasses and the way her eyes flickered ever so slightly to the insignia on the blade.

She had been lying to him.

Shiro was still struggling to reconcile the reason. Pidge had never kept secrets from him before. They functioned well as a unit, honest and open with each other as partners during their investigations and as friends outside the cases. So why would that suddenly change? Shiro was almost positive that Pidge had recognised the strange purple insignia on the handle of the knife. Perhaps somewhere in her subconscious, a memory had tried to surface, blocked and eroded by the passage of time. Maybe she wasn't even certain whether the familiarity really rang true at all.

Or maybe it was something more sinister.

Shiro shook his head as if to banish the thought, bitter bile in the back of his throat. But the idea wouldn't leave him. What if Pidge knew the blade far more intimately? What if she had once held it in her hands? What if…

Shiro choked, rushing to the basin in the adjoining bathroom to expel his breakfast onto the porcelain. It wasn't possible. Pidge hadn't even known Keith. Not properly. But Shiro knew her and he trusted her. Or at least, he used to.

He heaved again at his doubt. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he gasped for his erratic breath, spitting into the sink.

‘In for 2… 3… 4… And out…’

He turned on the tap to rinse the basin and his mouth, splashing the cold water onto his face. Still hunched over, he looked up to the mirror, taking stock of the healing scar across the bridge of his nose, the dark circles under his eyes, and the patch of greying hair at his crown.

“Takashi Shirogane is fine,” he coached himself.

He felt anything but.