#so I guess by cherish it I don’t mean fall to your knees and rejoice in your hearing

[floral-hex]

It’s wild how, on my good hearing days, I feel like my charisma and likability goes through the roof. It feels like a super power. Tonight I spent 10 minutes talking about horror movies with a guy at the gas station. And talking to strangers sucks! Wow. I’m, like, seriously proud of myself. I’m probably the bravest boy on earth.

[havenoffandoms]

Just Fine (Aiden/Lambert)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses Prompt List

Read on Ao3

Prompt:  “Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.”

Summary: 

Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Warnings: mention of amputation, modern AU

“So, today’s the day, huh?” Eskel smirks as he watches Lambert positively vibrating with excitement where he’s sat on a chair opposite Eskel. The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for another couple in the corner exchanging kisses and giggling carelessly as they rejoice in their puppy love. Lambert chose this place because it’s closest to the airport, but admittedly the place isn’t half-bad and the coffee doesn’t taste like piss.

“Stop that, it’s creepy,” Lambert grouses as he stuffs another forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth. When he notices Eskel’s confused frown, Lambert rolls his eyes and adds pointedly, “you, being all excited on my behalf. That’s unnatural. Stop it.”

“Whatever.” Eskel takes a sip of his tea - because Eskel is the kind of person who likes to drink tea for fun - before levelling Lambert with a look that the latter knows all too well. “You’re allowed to be excited about his return, you know? It’s been a year since he-”

“I know,” Lambert quickly interrupts before Eskel has a chance to finish his sentence, “I am excited.”

“Tell your face, then.”

“Shut up, prick.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Lambert.” Eskel reaches across the table to squeeze Lambert’s clammy hand. “I know you’re worried because of his injury, but you’ll both figure it out together. You don’t love him any less for it, right?”

“Of course not,” Lambert snaps in response as he snatches his hand away, angry at the mere suggestion that his feelings for Aiden would disappear for something as superficial as a physical injury, “of course I don’t love him any less for it. It’s just…”

Eskel doesn’t press him, and Lambert is grateful for that. Truth be told, he’s not entirely sure why he feels so anxious at the thought of seeing Aiden again. It’s been a long year without his boyfriend there to warm his bed and his life. Aiden is the life of Lambert’s entire life, and a year without him felt like the longest time. A whole year went by since Aiden was deployed and has been fighting overseas, taking part in a war that has lost all meaning. He missed birthdays, holidays spent with family around a hearty meal, milestone anniversaries... A year of Lambert staying up late at night, calling Aiden whenever his connection permitted it or writing letters to send his boyfriend when speaking to him proved too difficult. A year of Lambert switching the TV or radio on every morning before heading to work, listening for the announcements and hoping he wouldn’t hear Aiden’s name listed among the soldiers that perished as part of this senseless war.

Just over a week ago, Aiden called Lambert from a military hospital overseas a short two days after he was involved in an explosion that cost the lives of hundreds of civilians and soldiers alike. While Aiden survived the blast, he sustained a considerable injury to his leg. The doctors couldn’t save it, Aiden told Lambert over the phone, the leg had to come off. Lambert remembered crying on the phone that night, not because he mourned the loss of Aiden’s leg - they were tears of relief because Aiden came this close to dying in the blast that killed so many people. Lambert came this close to losing the most important person in his life. Come home, baby, Lambert remembered begging Aiden over the phone, I need you to come home. Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least. As a result of the injury he suffered, Aiden had to retire from the military early. While Lambert was happy to have his boyfriend return to him, he knew that Aiden struggled with the thought of retiring at the prime of his career. Not only is he out of a job, but his job prospects are not looking too bright, either. Aiden will have to spend time in physiotherapy, physical rehabilitation courses, counselling… Lambert knows the next months will be tough on his boyfriend.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

“It’s gonna be just fine, Lamb.” Eskel sounds so sure, so confident, that Lambert is almost inclined to believe him. “I promise, brother. You and Aiden will be just fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Kel.”

The drive to the airport is longer than Lambert remembers it being. The car is filled with the sound of heavy rock and heavy metal, the loud emphatic beats and distorted guitar solos washing over Lambert in calming waves. His brothers call him weird for finding this kind of music ‘soothing’, but it works for him, so his brothers can kiss his ass. The sun is beating down on the world below, forcing Lambert to crank up the A/C in the car. He drives along miles of barbed wire, “KEEP OUT” signs and parked aircraft. Lambert checks the time on his dashboard and realises that he’s a whole half an hour early. It isn’t exactly unheard of for soldiers’ families to arrive early and prepare for their loved one’s arrival - either by setting up signs, powdering their noses or getting the children to practice a welcome home song to celebrate their parents’ triumphant return. Lambert usually just waits in the shadows until Aiden comes into view, at which point he pulls his boyfriend close to him so they can get reacquainted away from prying eyes.

Lambert pulls into the airport multistorey parking complex, and thankfully he doesn’t have to spend ages looking for a parking space. As he pulls up into a tight space, Lambert’s heart sinks in his chest. Aiden will probably be travelling in a wheelchair - and he will be using one for a while, at least until he gets his prosthetic leg fitted. There’s no way in hell that Aiden will be able to comfortably step into the car if Lambert stays parked in this spot, but what other choice does he have? He doesn’t have a disabled parking permit yet, but Lambert guesses that’s something they’ll have to think about now. Until then, all he can do is park further away from the door and hope that no one will use the bay next to the passenger side so Aiden has enough space to move comfortably. So that’s precisely what he does. Shit, is Lambert overthinking this? Is he looking for problems where there are none? The last thing he wants is to tiptoe around Aiden’s disability. The last thing he wants is to make Aiden feel like things have changed because he lost his leg.

Shit. Why is he crying now? He should be excited, goddammit.

Lambert angrily wipes the tears and steps out of the car. They’ll be just fine, that’s what Eskel said. Eskel sounded so confident, so sure of himself, but hell, what if he’s wrong? What if Aiden leaves Lambert? What if Aiden pushes Lambert away? It was probably a mistake to read up all those army wives’ blogs and the nightmarish stories about husbands shutting down and falling into depression after sustaining a serious injury. Shit, what if Lambert isn’t good enough? What if Aiden thinks that Lambert is a lousy boyfriend who can’t take well enough care of him?

Deep breaths, Lambert. In, out. In, out. In-

Shit, why are there so many people in this fucking airport? Lambert stands in his usual corner, shying away from the crowds, averting everyone’s eyes as he stares at his phone. He shoots his brothers a text in their group chat - Have I ever told u guys how much I h8 crowds? - hoping that they will understand and distract him from the panic welling up in his chest. As he waits for an answer from either Geralt or Eskel, Lambert switches to his Facebook app and scrolls through his feed. He doesn’t have to wait long until the group chat pings with Geralt’s response.

G: You’ve mentioned it once or twice… or 100

Lambert snorts as he shoots a sassy comeback.

So mentioning it 1 more time won’t hurt. I fucking h8 goddamn crowds.

A quick glance at the arrivals screen tells Lambert that Aiden’s plane landed a few short minutes ago. Not long before they are reunited and able to hug it out in the middle of the airport. At this point, Lambert doesn’t give a shit anymore about what other people think of them. He almost lost Aiden, so he will go on his knees and hug him, wheelchair be damned. Lambert looks around him and sees many families and loved ones itching to welcome the soldiers back. Some of them brought flowers, or the puppy they bought last week as a welcome-home present, and even newborn babies. Lambert wonders if he should have bought Aiden a gift to commemorate the beginning of his retirement. He feels like that would be in bad taste considering Aiden’s feelings on the matter.

The first soldiers start to filter through the door, eyes scanning the room and lighting up when they land on familiar faces. Many people cry tears of joy and relief, others manage to keep a modicum of composure, and some even let out shrill cries of joy as they are finally reunited with the people they love and cherish the most. There is still no sight of Aiden and part of Lambert worries that something happened to him in the week it took the military to organise his repatriation. Feeling the panic well up in him again, Lambert pulls out his phone and opens the group chat window. L: What if he doesn’t come back?

It doesn’t take long for his phone to vibrate with Eskel’s response.

E: As if he’d pass up an opportunity to come back to his pain in the ass boyfriend.

L: Ass.

G: He’ll come back, Lamb. He’ll come back and he’s not leaving again.

Lambert takes a deep breath as he lets these words run through his mind. Aiden is coming back. He’s coming back. He’s-

“Why, hello there,” a familiar voice breaks through the storm raging in Lambert’s head, “come here often?”

Aiden looks so… so like himself. He’s sporting that familiar cocksure grin and his eyes shimmer with all the emotions he can’t bring himself to voice. His voice sounds so self-assured, even though Lambert knows he’s only a breath away from losing it and crying tears of relief. His hair is slightly longer and Lambert can make out the familiar dark curls he loves so much. Aiden looks so much like his old self that Lambert forgets, for a short minute, that he’s missing the lower half of his left leg entirely.

“Aiden. You’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

Lambert doesn’t feel himself fall to his knees until they hit the solid surface of the airport floor, cracking in protest at the impact. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around Aiden’s middle, squeezing tightly and burying his face in his boyfriend’s stomach. He’s unable to bite back the tears this time, and if Aiden notices that the soft material of his t-shirt is soaked right through, he doesn’t draw attention to it. Instead, he cards his fingers through Lambert’s short hair, softly shushing him and whispering heartfelt reassurances in the air pocket between them.

“I’m here, baby,” Aiden tells him over and over, “I’m back. I’m here, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I missed you,” Lambert hears himself say, “I missed you. I was so scared, Aiden, you don’t understand-”

“I’m here, Lamb. I’m here. You don’t have to be scared, anymore.”

They’ve got so much shit to figure out, Lambert knows. They need to think about all the adjustments they need to make to their lives, all the paperwork they’ll have to fill out, therapy sessions they have to book and medical insurance they need to update. All these things that terrified Lambert a few hours earlier, all these plans that made panic well in him and want to run for the hills… all these worries weighing him down disappear the second Lambert feels Aiden’s arms around him, squeezing him, comforting him.

“I’m not scared,” Lambert assures Aiden, pulling back and straightening up so he can place a soft kiss on Aiden’s lips. They still feel the same against his own, they still taste the same, too. Nothing has changed. Aiden is still Aiden. “Not anymore.”

“Anymore?” There’s a teasing edge in Aiden’s voice, a mocking grin tugging at his lips. “Ah, kitten. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I gotcha. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

Lambert happily obliges Aiden’s request. Their lips slot against each other like they didn’t just spend a year apart. Their kiss is tender and soft at first, but Lambert is quick to deepen it by licking Aiden’s bottom lip. Neither of them cares about the potential eyes on him - nobody is likely to pay attention to them, not when they’re all lost in the joy of being reunited with their own family members. Lambert breaks the kiss briefly to whisper a soft ‘I love you’ to Aiden. His cheeks turn red as he speaks those three words which still feel too intimate to be loudly proclaimed in public, even after all these years. Aiden steals another kiss before reciprocating the sentiment, his breath ghosting over Lambert’s lips and sending a peasant shiver coursing through his body.

They have lots of shit to figure out, but Aiden is here and he’s not going anywhere. Aiden is here, and neither of them has to deal with the situation on their own. They’ll be just fine. Everything will be just fine.

[queerchoicesblog]

The Gala (OH, Harper x F!MC)

Nobody asked for a sequel of Unexpected News (& Misunderstandings as well) but I wrote it anyway! As my confidence in a good Book 2 for Open heart decreases every day, I found myself missing my non-canon slowburn pairing and voilà: the night of the gala brings some good news and an unexpected -and long waited- turn of events for Dr. Emery and Dr. Valentine. Special thanks to Kyra :D

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @bhavf @melodyofgraves @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @strangerofbraidwood @kamilahmykween @desiree-0816 @universallypizzataco @gayestchoices @embarrassingsmartphonegame @lilyofchoices @somewillwin @allaboutchoices  

Harper x F!MC Tag: @andi-the-cat @korrasamixfan @delphinusbae @noeschoices @jellymonster

Word Count: 2250

Disclaimer: For previous chapters of the Harper x F!MC, check my masterlist (too lazy to post all the links her) + I mentioned Avery Wilshere, in this fic it will be a male Avery as I pictured it male in my Platinum playthrough, sorry for that!

__________________________

The Edenbrook Hospital Fundraising Gala was in full swing. Everything was surprisingly running smoothly: Dr. Naveen Banerji gave a gracious and inspiring keynote speech, acknowledging and praising the hard work of the medical staff and encouraging patrons to support research and the new pioneering programs in favor of the community launching soon. The gala guest Avery Wilshere took the stage and echoed his words, remembering how the doctors of Edenbrook went above and beyond to cure and eventually save the life of one of his dearest friends before charming the audience with his soft voice and ballads.

Dr. Valentine had never been to a gala before: she felt thrilled and awkward at the same time standing there, in a fancy hall, dressed to the nines eating canapes and sipping expensive wine. Shaking hands with embarrassingly rich people and trying to look her best professional self while enjoying the party. She took a moment to check in on her friends. A soft smile drew on her lips as she spotted Sienna and Danny slow dancing downtempo and lost in each other's arms on the dance floor. Not far a visibly smitten Phoebe was adjusting Elijah's bowtie, spreading a blush over Dr. Greene's cheeks. Seeing her friends happy and in the company of their loved ones comforted her, a content feeling taking in inside her. Then she noticed Bryce and Jackie bantering at the bar and shook her head laughing. She rejoiced again seeing the shade of pink on Aurora's face as she shyly nodded and squeezed closer to a smiling Raphael for a selfie. It was so endearing how the young Dr. Emery still struggled a little to come to terms with the genuine affection all of them showed her, to people around her age willing to include her, Aurora, without ulterior motives than to enjoy her company.

Now it was her turn. She took a quick nervous look to Kyra who just nodded and winked in encouragement. I suppose you don't exactly have a choice, self, she thought, sighing to steady herself and turn. She surfed through the crowd, flashing quick smiles to fellow doctors as she passed by...until she saw her. The breath caught in her throat as she froze in place: Harper was glowing in an elegant blue dress - blue navy was definitely Harper’s favorite color- and finely jeweled, crimson over her perfectly shaped lips. The Head of Neurosurgery was in the company a bunch of doctors and wealthy patrons: she looked perfectly at ease, chatting and sipping a glass of champagne. Dr. Valentine diverted her eyes, pondering her options.

Nah, maybe it wasn't the right time. It was silly, maybe she should leave and..

But it was too late: when she raised her eyes again, she met Harper’s, looking in her direction. She gave her a quick smile and a nod, that Meredith immediately mirrored still wondering if she should just keep walking and pretend she wasn’t just passing by. Dr. Emery anticipated her once again. The neurosurgeon graciously excused herself and parted from the group, heading straight towards the young fellow.

“Hello, Valentine. Enjoying the party?” she greeted her with a smile.

"Oh yes, it's..." Meredith's eyes wandered around the hall looking for the right words. "Amazing. And impressive. Dr. Banerjii and the board went above and beyond for this gala night"

"Indeed" Dr. Emery agreed, following Meredith's gaze before looking back at her. "I noticed that Naveen and Ethan showed you off to the VIP guests over here"

A light blush spread over Valentine's face as she minimized.

"They just introduced me, I wouldn't go that far...but it was kind of them, I guess"

Harper flashed a quick smile as if she was expecting that kind of answer.

"I'm glad they did. After all you've been through, you deserved a little victory lap, Valentine"

"Do you think so?" Meredith sighed.

"You know me: have I ever said anything I didn't mean?"

Meredith offered a weak smile and shook her head in response. Then she remembered her chat with Kyra and she felt conflicted again, but Harper was giving a look filled with curiosity as if she read her mind and knew, just knew that she was keeping something from her.

"Actually, Dr. Emery I was kind of...hoping to bump into you"

"Really? What's the matter?" Harper asked, shifting slightly to listen more carefully.

“This is…embarrassing, very silly I should probably-” Meredith started but froze mid.-sentence.

“I’m sure it’s not. So?” Harper inquired, taking a sip of her champagne.

“Well…” Meredith swallowed hard and fiddled with her own hands “I somehow got involved in a bet”

“A bet?” Harper echoed, flashing her an enigmatic and slightly amused smile. “What kind of bet, if I may? Please tell me it has nothing to do with scalpels because I don’t have one in my purse. Stupidly I forgot to bring them to the gala”

“Oh no” Valentine chuckled. “It’s…Kyra, the girl over there….she bets that I...well that I would never have the guts to ask you to dance”

“Oh” Dr. Emery raised a surprised eyebrow to her before cocking her head to look over Valentine’s shoulder.

On the other side of the room, a young woman wearing a colorful turban excitedly waved at her with a big smile.

“And what did she ask you to do if you failed?” Harper asked, waving back at Kyra.

“Running the upcoming Boston marathon on her behalf”

“Well, I was expecting something worse to be h-”

“Barefoot and wearing a t-shirt that says ‘too chicken to ask Dr. Emery to dance’”

Harper gave her a long look before both of them burst into laughter.

“I know it sounds ridiculous but it’s also tragic on my end” Meredith chuckled.

“It seems you have quite a lot to lose here, Valentine. Now the question is…what are you gonna do?”

“W-what do you mean?” Meredith asked suddenly less confident than before.

Harper gave her an amused smile and leaned a bit closer:

“You haven’t asked me to dance yet. If that’s what you wanted to do”

“Oh, yeah, right!” Meredith mumbled before recollecting herself.

The notes of one of Avery's most loved song started playing in the background as if on cue, eliciting a round of applause and cheer from the audience.

“Will you dance with me, Dr. Emery?”

Harper gave her one of her long looks before breaking into a smile and stopping a man in a dashing tuxedo passing by.

“Grant, dear, sorry. Would you mind holding that for me?” she asked, handing him her glass.

“Sure, Harper. Hitting the dance floor?” he asked winking at the two of them.

“I think so” she smiled back.

“Cool, just don’t ask for your drink later, Harper! Have fun, ladies!” he said with a huge grin before being approached by another patron.

Dr. Emery shook her head and turned towards Meredith, flashing a smile.

“Shall we?”

Meredith's knees threatened to give in as Harper gently grazed her arm, a light touch that made her heart flutter, but she managed to keep walking and mirror the neurosurgeon's smile.

Kyra later smiled to herself observing the two women dancing in the crowd, slowly letting themselves go and forget about the gala, being more confident around each other only to fall into an awkward silence as they swayed to the beat of  Avery's signature song, Lift Me Up

I tried to resist you I tried to keep my distance I tried to play it cool I'm no match for your persistence

I knew it, she beamed as a few songs later they moved to the bar arms in arms and spent the rest of the night chatting and laughing, Meredith gesticulating, too lost in some kind of deep conversation to be nervous, and Harper, listening carefully resting her chin in her hand.

They were still together when the gala came to an end, walking side by side into the parking lot among the multitude of doctors and guests exchanging parting greetings and a last round of chats.

"Who would have thought that a gala could be so much fun?" Harper commented, smiling to herself.

"Thanks for saving me from the deadly dull of patron conversation" she whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to Meredith so that only she could hear.

"Anytime! But I should be the one thanking you: you saved me from the most disastrous and embarrassing Boston marathon ever" Meredith giggled.

"Yeah...I must say it would have been quite a sight. I can see the headlines-"

"No, it would have been awful, thank you!" Meredith interrupted her before laughing again. "You're an awful tease Dr. Emery, you know that right?"

Harper just shrugged and smiled.

"But I must admit I'm glad you decided not to run the marathon" she took a brief pause as if to ponder her words or to cherish the realization that just crossed her mind and made her smile to herself, almost shyly. "It's been ages since I had a night like this. Of course, it wasn't all fun, there were work duties too but...dancing, actually having a good carefree conversation with someone, that's rather unusual for me these days. Well, in a while, to be honest. I almost forgot how it was and I missed it. Thanks, Valentine"

The soft shift in her tone was so earnest that left Meredith a bit puzzled as a flashback of Mr. Linen Suit leaving Edenbrook with Harper. Maybe the date didn't work out?

"No need to thank me, it was my pleasure. I had a great time too, it was nice spending time with you outside work. Well, more or less as you said"

A light shade of pink colored her cheeks.

"You mean it?"

Meredith turned: seeing Harper surprised that someone might enjoy her company outside work, her personal self talking of ordinary stuff not the myth, the public persona was unexpected. And quite heartwarming as well. She barely refrained from the urge to reach out and squeeze her hand or pull her into a tight embrace.

"Of course I do" she said instead.

Harper smiled, a rather shy and grateful smile so different from her usual dignified ones at work, and nodded.

"I'm glad to hear. Maybe we should-" the neurosurgeon stopped mid-sentence, unsure whether to finish the sentence that slipped out of her mouth.

"Maybe we should...?"

Harper slowed down to a stop and after much internal debate, she shook her head and continued.

"Do you like Thai food?"

"Yes, sure but why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we should do it again, spending time together outside good old Edenbrook and I happen to know a lovely place downton. I'd love to take you out to dinner there"

"Yo-you would?" Meredith managed to stutter as she blushed furiously. "Like casually or-"

"Yes, I would" Harper laughed softly, amused of how flustered Valentine got in the turn of seconds. "And it's a date only if we both feel like that, no pressure. So what do you say?"

Dr. Valentine refrained herself from screaming the easiest yes she had ever formulated.

"Yes, yes I would love to".

Harper's face relaxed a bit.

"Excellent! So how's...let me think of my schedule...how's Friday? Does it work for you?"

"Friday's perfect" she confirmed, her smile barely containing the happiness that surged inside her.

She forgot about the rest of the world for a moment: Harper was smiling back at her, the most beautiful smile Meredith had ever seen when the charm was broken by a sudden realization that made the surgeon laugh.

"I'm just afraid...I don't have your number. I don't know how to text you the address" she smiled apologetically.

"Oh right!" Meredith chuckled too.

"It's usually the other way round, right? First number then asking out" Dr. Emery shook her head as she picked her phone out of her purse.

"I suppose, buy it doesn't matter, we can change that" Valentine commented outstretching her hand.

As Harper handed her her phone, she quickly typed down her number. After checking it twice, she gave it back, a huge smile on her face.

"There, fixed"

Over Harper's shoulder, in the distance, she spotted Kyra and the rest of the group walking in the opposite direction. Rafael saw her and mouthed something about a uber. Valentine nodded and sighed.

"I'm afraid that's my cue, sadly" she apologized. "I have an early shift tomorrow and..."

"It's okay, I would have offered to give you a ride home but I wasn't sure if it would put you in a bad place back at home" Harper smiled, a hint of tease in her hazel eyes. "And I know you're a professional, Valentine"

"Meredith" the fellow corrected her. "Just Meredith"

Dr. Emery's eyes gleamed again in the dark of the night.

"I'll text you very soon, Meredith"

"Please do, D-"

"Harper"

As her friend almost disappeared from view and the neurosurgeon was smiling down at her, Meredith bit her lip and allowed herself to be a little daring for once. Without thinking twice, she leaned closer and pressed a quick kiss on the doctor's cheek, leaving Harper to gape in surprise.

"Thanks for making my day. Goodnight, Harper" she whispered softly.

That said, she parted and walked towards her friends, head over heels and still not fully processing what happened, but feeling like the heroine of a romantic comedy, her own romantic movie as she heard Harper, the Harper Emery who just asked her out and now visibly flustered, whispering "Goodnight, Meredith".

[cross-roads-blues]

Deep Inside Your Mind /ch.4

[chapter 1]  [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [ [chapter 5]

Notes: Your author is not dead. However, now that my break has ended, updating this story on a daily basis has gotten a bit harder for me, so the updates may be every 2 or 3 days. Also, need to establish some timelines.

1) Takes place before Mary gets brought back

2) Angels still have wings

3) Dean doesn't have the Mark of Cain

4) Crowley and TFW have a complicated relationship but none of them is actively trying to kill another.

Warnings: None, really. 

Summary:  While on a usual hunt, Dean Winchester is hit by something. While Dean recovers, he can’t remember neither Castiel, who’s been harboring feelings for Dean for over 5 years, nor Sam Winchester, his brother, who is 💔 by such turn of events. Can Cas and Sam reverse the damage, while battling their inner demons?

Chapter: 4/?

Word Count: 6520/?

Chapter Title: Way Down We Go

Jamie exited the hospital room and shut the door behind her. Or rather, the demon that was possessing the nurse made her exit the room and shut the door behind her. Word travels fast and talk about the comatose Winchester brother spread like fire in the middle of June. But now the demon didn’t need the meatsuit of the nurse. Everything he needed to know was already revealed: Dean Winchester was indeed amnesiac and he didn’t remember a damn thing about his past.

The demon in nurse meatsuit made his way to the storage room. The nurse locked the door and turned around on her heels approaching the corner of the room where in the dark, a man, seemingly unconscious, was sitting, leaning on the wall. The demon smoked out of the nurse and in the form of red smoke traveled to the man, possessing him. The man opened his eyes, stood up, dusted his pants and sighed with relief, looking at his hands. Being back in his meatsuit made Crowley very happy. After all, it was a rather handsome meatsuit. Crowley didn’t like to leave his meatsuit, but he had to take the nurse for 15 minutes to check on Dean. Anyway, he was on the new objective now.  “Huh,” smirked Crowley  and in the second, there was no one in the storage room of Dallas Municipal Hospital.

“Raised? By an angel? Why would an angel want to raise this scum?” Sam turned around and rubbed his temples.

Castiel squinted and again glanced at the top of the trees, slightly glistening from the start of sunrise. “I don't know. I could be able to trace the angel, though.”

“Great! Let's start with that! C'mon, do your mojo.” !” said Sam, with way too much tension in his voice.

Castiel pressed his lips and walked away from the grave. “I can’t just do it right here right now,” he said finally, making pauses between words. “I need to lay hands on something that the angel has touched.”

Sam aggressively ran his hand through his hair. “The ghost witch probably. If the angel yanked it out of Purgatory, or wherever this thing was, like you yanked Dean out of Hell, there should be a mark. ”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, there must be a mark.”

“Okay, zap us back to Dallas, we need a plan,” said Sam with a frown on his face, “Why can’t life just be easy?”

“You’re a Winchester and I’m an angel, I’m guessing that’s the thing,” murmured Cas, as he transported both of them back to the motel.

“Ugh, your teleport mojo always messes me over.” Sam stumbled over to the refrigerator, bumping into the kitchen’s doorway and grabbed another can of coffee. “I feel like shit now.”

“Maybe it’s because of your poor sleeping schedule,” commented Castiel, as he grabbed a book titled “Native American Legends” and collapsed in the chair, flipping through it.

“Definitely not.” Sam threw the can in the garbage bin, this time missing the bin and letting the can skittle in the corner.

“Right,” mouthed Castiel. “What’s the plan?” he said aloud, glancing up at the younger Winchester.

Sam shrugged. “We need to figure out how to track this thing. Get you to it for a long enough time and then have a nice talk with our feathery friend.” He dropped into a chair, letting his hair fall over his face. “I combed through all lore on ghost witches at least twice and I got no idea how to do that,” he added in muffled voice.

“Cheer up, Moose.” A way too familiar voice was heard from the doorway. Both Castiel and Sam jumped from their seats and bared their weapons: Castiel pointed an angel blade while Sam reached out for Ruby’s knife.

“I come in peace.” Crowley raised his eyebrows and displayed his empty hands. “Offended that you’d even think anything else of me.”

“Why’re you here, Crowley?” spat out Sam, still pointing the knife at the demon.

“To cuddle and watch Mean Girls,” smirked Crowley, “A little birdie brought on its tail that Squirrel forgot my pretty face. Now that’s a problem I’m interested in.”

Crowley strolled to the armchair and casually sat in it. “Ah yes, I know all about your little amnesia problem. About Skudakumooches, too. Wanted to help,” he continued in his gruff voice.

“Why?” Castiel slightly relaxed his stance, weapon still tight in his hand.

Crowley gave him a tight smile. “Because we’re besties. And because your ghost witches  are going after my crossroads demons.”

“Okay, what?” Sam put the knife away and set on the bed.

“Heard me right. Etchemin spells. Killing my best salesmen. Guessing that’s the work of your best buds.” Crowley leaned back in the armchair and crossed his hands.

“Okay and how are you gonna be useful, Crowley?” Sam rested his elbows on his knees and glared at the King of Hell.

“I got a friend who got a friend who got a friend who used to be a shaman before they went to Hell and I got a summoning ritual on my hands.”  Crowley did jazz hands. “Tada.”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Okay, Crowley, why do you think we want to summon this thing?”

Crowley stared back at him, feigning surprise. “Why, to kill it of course. This thing is murdering my demons, it turned your brother Jason Bourne, I assumed you want it dead.”

Castiel and Sam exchanged glances. “What do you want in return?” finally spoke Sam.

“I want it dead. Seriously, did you listen to the word I said?” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “I said that it kills my guys and my little establishment known as Hell-” he accentuated that word - “is losing clientele! So I am more than willing to cooperate.”

Castiel looked at Sam, furrowing his brows and pushing his lips tightly together. Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded. Castiel hesitated for a second, then turned back to Crowley. “Deal. Give us the ritual.”

Crowley gave him an enigmatic tight-lipped smile. “Attaboy. Kill it real hard for me, will you?” He handed Castiel a folded piece of paper. Before taking it, Castiel gave Crowley a glare and practically yanked the paper out of his hand.

“We’re not killing it for you, Crowley,” said the angel in a haunting deep voice.

Crowley grinned. “Wouldn’t think so. Still you get the job done and that’s all I care about. I’d hate to lose any more of my salesmen.  I have a reputation to maintain here.” With these words, Crowley teleported, leaving Castiel and Sam staring at an empty armchair.

“Okay, now Crowley is involved and he knows about Dean’s situation. This just got more complicated,” said Sam, stowing away the knife and sighing.

Castiel tilted his hand and squinted. “If Crowley knew, it means that the word about Dean got out. This can’t be good.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll talk to the doctor about getting him here tomorrow. We should head to the bunker, do the summon, trace the angel, force him to force the ghost witches to give Dean’s memory back and then kill them all.” Sam exhaled and leaned back, lying on the bed completely. “Man, I swear,  sometimes it’s like the Universe is against us.”

Castiel looked at Sam. “You are going to get some sleep, while I-” he skimmed through the paper Crowley gave them “-am going to collect the ingredients for the ritual that we don’t have in the bunker.”

Sam got himself up from the bed, blinking rapidly and squinting. “No, Cas, wait, I can help with the-” he stuttered, looking for the word- “the, the…. the search of the ingredients.”

“No.” Castiel determinedly got up and walked up to the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, I’m not done, I’m not done!” Sam started to get up from the bed, but the exhaustion and many sleepless nights started setting in. “Okay, I’m done,” he admitted, collapsing again on the bed, “I’m done.”

Castiel cast one last glance at the younger Winchester, turned off the lights and headed out of the door. He shut the door behind him and felt light morning breeze on his face, as the sun continued rising. The angel pressed his lips together and tilted his head up, letting weak sunlight fall on his face. For the first time in weeks, they had a lead. They had a real shot at saving Dean. Castiel glanced down as he thought about the angel that had risen the Skudakumooches and ordered them to do that to Dean. He imagined jamming an angel blade in his throat and that thought felt really therapeutic. With a flap of the wings Castiel wasn’t anymore on the porch of the motel room.

The sunlight lit up Dean’s hospital room, as the light wind from the open window played with the curtains. The angel stood in the middle of the room, not sure why did he come there. Dean was sleeping and Cas rejoiced at seeing the hunter so calm and at peace. He slowly approached the bed, being careful not to make any sound. Dean not remembering him hurt like hell, hurt in the ways he couldn’t imagine. The pain of his human not remembering him, while the angel’s most cherished memories were with Dean stung and Cas couldn’t get rid of it. The angel spent a couple of minutes looking at Dean’s face and, as he wanted to leave, the hunter’s green eyes slowly opened.

“What, what time is it?” sleepily murmured the hunter, blinking slowly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I was just checking up on you…” rambled Castiel, moving away from the bed, embarrassed.

“Wait!” called out hunter.

“What is it?” The angel hesitated and lingered for a couple of moments by the bed.

“Your eyes… they’re blue,” muttered Dean, weakly raising his hand and pointing towards Cas’ face.

Castiel tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

Dean, still half asleep and a bit dizzy from the meds, hesitated for a second, but then continued. “I had a memory… lots of pain and everything red and black… and then I saw a flash of white-” Dean stopped and stared directly in Cas’ eyes- “and in that flash, I think I saw your eyes. But that doesn’t make any sense. So, Castiel, tell me who the hell I am, who the hell you are and what did I see?”

Castiel gave him a tight-lipped smile and contemplated his answer for a second. "No more secrets," he thought.

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

[chapter 1]  [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 5]