Status: ongoing
Our Life, Our Girl
Past
POV Cas:
Black pants, white coat, winter coat, L pass, wallet, keys, shoes, and I had no idea where my hat or gloves were. I searched my apartment finally finding them under my school bag. I headed out of the door glad it was a new semester. New classes and a new schedule helped break up the winter.
I'd been working at Fresh, an all organic restaurant, for over a year as one of the chefs. I had applied just as a waiter, but I'd finished culinary classes and was a certified chef and Mr. Kim, the owner, shoved me in the back with an apron and told me not to undersell myself. I was still taking art classes right now though. Art, specifically painting, was my main focus, and this job paid for my shitty apartment and school supplies. Last semester I worked mainly the lunch hour, but now I was working the dinner shift Monday through Thursday and the lunch on Sunday. Friday nights I helped out with a community art class that one of my favorite teachers ran.
Fresh was only two stops away from my apartment which was nice especially in the winter. It was a short walk to the restaurant from the L stop, but I was already freezing off body parts I didn't know I had.
"Hey you! Can you get that for me?" a guy called after me. I looked at my feet to see a half empty Gatorade bottle rolling toward me. I picked it up and brought it over to him. He was leaning against the hood of a shiny black car with the door propped open with a guitar case. "Thank you," he said and tossed it in before slamming the door.
"Yeah," I said and turned to go in since I didn't want to be late.
"Do you work here?" he asked and I turned again. I glanced at the door.
"Uh yeah," I told him and he shrugged.
"I've never seen you before," he said.
"Well I've worked here for awhile," I started to explain and then realized I'd never seen him before.
"Well I've been here every night since about August and I've never seen you," he told me coming to stand next to me. He was taller with light short hair and green eyes. I felt something stir inside of me, but decided it was better to associate the feeling with the cold.
"I worked the lunch shift," I finally managed to tell him and he nodded.
"That'd explain it."
"And what do you mean you're out here?" I asked curiously and he nodded towards the guitar case. "Oh you play?"
"No I set it up for people to look at, yes I play," he said with a laugh and I felt my wind burnt cheeks heat up.
"I better go inside," I mumbled and he laughed again.
"Alright. See ya," he said and I quickly went into the back of the restaurant. I punched in and headed to the kitchen. There were six chefs at the restaurant; me, Taylor, Becca, Bryce, Ian, and Daniel. I loved working with Becca and Taylor and I'd grown to like Daniel, but Bryce and Ian had some sort of issue still. Ian was hired at the same time I was and Bryce about five months later so it wasn't like I was the new guy in their territory or something. I could make a list of other possible reasons though. Luckily Becca and Taylor were working dinner, along with Ian, but still.
"Hey Castiel," Taylor said as I put on my apron. This was the only place other then my house that my full name was used. I tried to get them to call me Cas which I preferred, but none of them would.
"Hi," I said going to wash my hands. He followed me.
"You aren't covered in paint," he noted and I nodded. I had gotten time for a much needed shower.
"Who is the guy out front?" I asked. It was safe to ask because Ian wasn't here yet.
"Dean? You don't know Dean?" he asked and I shook my head. "Oh well you worked lunch. He's a guy Mr. Kim lets play in front of the restaurant. It draws in customers. He's pretty good actually. I don't know why he does it in the winter though. Seems like he'd freeze his hands off," Taylor explained and I nodded.
On my break I made that rash decision to bring Dean some tea. I had no idea if he liked tea, but it would at least make his hands warm. I slipped out of the kitchen over to where we kept the tea pots. I could feel Ian watching me, he was on break too, but he said nothing.
I grabbed my coat and then headed around to the front. He was sitting on the back of a bench and I cleared my throat to get his attention. He turned his head and smiled.
"Shouldn't you be working Castiel?" he asked and I blushed thankful it was dark.
"I uh I ..." I trailed off and held out the tea. "If you don't like it it'll at least keep your hands warm," I told him and he took it.
"Thanks." I watched him set his guitar down and wrap red fingers around the cardboard cup. "And Becca told me your name," he added and I nodded stuffing my hands in my pockets. It was cold.
"Yeah Taylor said you were Dean," I said and he nodded.
"Dean Winchester," he said and I smiled.
"Call me Cas," I said before he used my full name again. "Only work and my brothers call me Castiel," I quickly added.
"Alright Cas," he said and sipped the tea and made a face. "I feel like I'm drinking boiled grass," he complained and I laughed.
"It's green tea."
"It's gross," he retorted and smiled. "But thanks. It was getting to the point where I couldn't feel my fingers." I glanced at his still red fingers.
"You could get frostbite you know," I said and he shrugged.
"Yeah it's happened before. I'll live," he said.
"Are you sure?" I asked as the cup slipped from his hands. I stared at it and then his hands and then him. He looked almost as surprised as I was.
"Sorry," he said apologetically, but made no move to pick it up.
"Your hands ..."
"Are fine," he said and carefully slid them into his pockets.
"Then pick up the cup," I said and he just looked at me and then the ground.
"I can't," he said quietly.
"Show me your hands then," I said and his face twisted up.
"I'm fine," he urged. "Really, they're just cold." I stood there shivering until he reluctantly pulled his hands out. Blisters were starting to form on his fingers. I automatically reached for his hands which were ice cold.
"It's frostbite," I said and he shrugged.
"It'll pass," he told me and pulled his hands away. I wasn't stupid and I knew he was lying.
"I'm taking you to the ER," I said at last and he snorted.
"I don't think so," he said and slid his hands into his pockets again.
"I'm serious," I said and he just shrugged. "Please?" I tried.
"Don't worry I'll be fine," he laughed.
"Cas times almost up!" I heard Taylor's booming voice behind me.
"Don't go anywhere," I said to Dean and went over to Taylor. The restaurant wasn't too busy today and I still had three days when I was allowed to leave early. "I'm checking out early," I said to him and he raised his eyebrows. "No, no he has frostbite," I said quickly.
"Sure he does Cas," he laughed.
"It is," I said and pushed past him to check out. I grabbed the rest of my stuff, ignored the look Ian gave me, and headed back out to Dean. He was still sitting on the bench.
"Please let me take you," I said again.
"I can't, I don't have insurance," he said quietly. "And barely any money."
"I'll pay then, just please," I told him. "If you don't you could lose your fingers." He sighed and turned to me.
"I won't let you pay," he said and I rolled my eyes.
"Fine, whatever, let's just go," I said and motioned for him to follow. He glanced at his guitar and I quickly put it in its case and picked it up. Only then did he get up and follow me.
After wrestling his keys away from him and forcing him into the passenger seat, I finally got into his messy car. Blankets, pillows, magazines, books, clothes, food wrappers ... "Do you live in your car?" I asked and he just shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes," I murmured.
"It's only been for a few days," he shot back. The rest of the ride was in silence until he complained about me parking his car. I asked if he wanted to, but he could barely move his fingers, so that shut him up. I then dragged him into the ER and set about filling out the paperwork for him as he grumpily snapped out answers like what his birthday was and his phone number and his emergency contact who was his brother Sam.
"You can go now," he said reluctantly as the nurse took him to look at his hands. I just shrugged and followed. I don't really know why I was staying. To give him moral support?
"You're my ride," I simply said even though I had no objection to a bus. He seemed fine with that answer.
After assessing his hands and shooting him up with morphine, the nurse brought out a tub of very hot water to put his hands it. "As feeling comes back it will be painful. You have to keep them in the water for fifteen minutes though," she said and he just rolled his eyes as she placed his hands in the water.
"So are you from around here?" he finally asked and I shook my head.
"Texas," I said. "I came up here for school. I had to get away from my family. You?"
"Almost the same. Putting distance between myself and my dad," he said and I nodded.
"Why?" I asked automatically and he shrugged.
"I didn't want to go into the marines. I looked up to him my whole life, but when it came down to it I don't want to be a soldier. He says it's in me, but I just couldn't. I have other dreams."
"Music?"
"I guess, more like I just want to do my own thing for once. Growing up I helped in his shop and with my brother and suddenly I realized I wasn't doing anything for me."
"I know what that's like," I muttered thinking of my brothers at home.
"Do you have siblings?" he asked after wincing in pain.
"Yeah two brothers, older," I said and he nodded.
"Sam's my little brother. I always thought he was a little snot, but he got himself a full ride to Stanford, so I guess I can't say too much. More then I ever did," he said grinding his teeth.
"Does it hurt?"
"It feels like I'm being slapped with a thousand needles," he groaned. "How much time left?" I looked at the timer in front of him.
"About eight minutes."
"Fuck," he groaned and hung his head. "Aren't you a little young to be a cook?"
"No," I huffed. "I'm twenty-one thank you." He chuckled and I smiled.
"Whatever you tell yourself to get you through the day," he said and smiled before grimacing again.
"So why are you living in your car?" I asked and he sighed.
"I was staying with friends. I've been working odd jobs not making much and so it was basically a place to crash. They all got busted for drugs and I've been in my car," he said shortly.
"You can stay at my house," I blurted out and felt my cheeks turn red when he looked over and smiled at me.
"Nah, you've done enough for me Cas," he said and I didn't know if that made me relieved because I didn't like the idea of him in his car when it was so cold.
"At least for tonight. You can't be alone with all those painkillers in your system," I said quickly. I had school in the morning and really was looking forward to curling up in my bed under a pile of blankets, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep knowing Dean was somewhere freezing to death. Then again having him in my apartment made my insides fluttery. I probably was in for a sleepless night.
"Fine I guess. Do you live alone?" he asked and I nodded.
"One room apartment, but there's a couch," I told him.
"That's what I'm used to," he said and I opened my mouth to offer him my bed. I was shorter then he was and he might not fit comfortably on the couch, but my offer was cut off as he cried out in pain.
"It fucking hurts," he moaned sourly.
"Three minutes," I said and stopped myself before reaching out and rubbing the back of his neck. I opted to rub his shoulder and he seemed to relax a bit.
He was sobbing quietly when the timer went off and the nurse came back to check the circulation. He was given some more painkillers, cleared to go and expected to make a full recovery as long as he took proper steps to stay warm and keep the frostbite away. The drive to my apartment was silent except when I had to park and he again made grunts and whines until I squeezed his giant car into a spot. He followed me with a dazed expression now that he wasn't in so much pain and greeted those who were in the lobby of the building. It was only a little after nine thirty and some of my friends were getting ready to go out. They raised their eyebrows and made lewd gestures that I ignored and dragged Dean up to my apartment; third floor room 318.
"You paint?" he asked when I turned the light on and the mess became apparent.
"Yeah," I said rushing in and taking the work in progress off the easel and moved everything and cleared all the supplies off the couch. "It's my main focus," I said as he surveyed the entire tiny space.
"I can tell. There's paint on everything," he chuckled.
"I'm not going to wash my hands every five seconds in my own house," I defended glancing over the kitchen. Paint on the sink and handles, paint on the fridge, paint on the toaster, cabinet handles, coffee pot, counters ... I knew the bathroom and doorknobs looked like this too. He just smiled and opened the fridge. "Help yourself," I added as I took my coat off. I'd forgotten I was still in my uniform.
"You have normal food," he said shutting the fridge and looking at me.
"Why wouldn't I?" I asked confused and he opened it again and pulled out the leftover chicken from dinner yesterday.
"Where you worked I assumed," he said and I nodded.
"I like fast food and junk food as much as the next guy," I said and he nodded and started eating it.
"They hurt," he whined and pointed to a picture I had on the fridge. "Brothers?"
"Yeah," I said. I'd been forced into a Christmas picture at the request of Mary, my oldest brother Michaels' wife.
"Who's who?" he asked and took the picture down bringing it to me.
"Gabe and Michael and Michael's wife Mary and their daughter Anna and then Balthazar," I said using his full name. That's what he gets for calling me Cassie my entire life.
"Older?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Gabe is seven years older and Michael is ten years older and Balthazar is eight or nine years older or something. I don't know. He just kind of started living with my family before I was born and never left."
"Exotic name," he said and I shrugged.
"It is but that doesn't phase him. He claims it helps with the ladies or something," I muttered. Between him and Gabe the number of women, and sometimes men, I saw go in and out of their rooms growing up was astounding.
"So your family's big?" he asked putting the picture back on the fridge.
"Not really. It's just me and my brother's," I said. "Car crash when I was two," I added before he asked where my parents were. We didn't talk about it. When I was little I asked about it a lot and it made Michael mad. Our grandfather lived with us until he died when I was eight and Michael became our legal guardian. Dean nodded and went back to the fridge and pulled out the water pitcher.
"Cups?" he asked and I pointed to the cabinet.
"If you want to shower or whatever the bathroom is that door or you can watch TV or something," I said and picked up one of my textbooks. I had research to do, as well as painting, but I felt weird painting with an audience.
"Mmm in a bit," he said and sat on the couch picking up a tube of paint I'd tossed there. "Oil?"
"Yeah I like them the best," I said. From here on out I was only working with oil paint finally.
"What are you working on?" he asked and I sighed. I dragged the easel out again and held up the image I was copying. "It's small," he noted and I nodded.
"We are supposed to copy and make it our own, so the image is too small to see the individual strokes so that you have to manipulate the paint on your own and I hate it. I can't get the sand the right color," I explained and frowned at the half done painting I had on the easel.
"I don't see a problem," he said and I scrunched up my face and pointed to the beach.
"It's too light," I said and he shook his head and laughed.
"You're too focused and worried about it. I say paint the rest and then step back," he told me and I glared. He sounded like my art teacher. He laughed again. I rolled my eyes and dragged my easel back into the corner. "I like it though don't get me wrong. I really do," he said and I relaxed. It was more then my brothers said about my work anyway.
"Thanks," I said and sat at the other end of the small couch with my textbooks and pretended to read as he flipped through the channels. He stopped on the weather channel and watched as they talked about more freezing temperatures. I hoped he wouldn't be stupid about the weather, because I doubted I could convince him to stay longer.
Eventually he started flipping channels again and my fingers were itching to draw him. I tucked a piece of paper into my textbook and absently worked on his jaw and then lips and nose and finally eyes. "What're you doing?" he asked and I jumped.
"Art history," I blurted out and he nodded turning back to the TV.
"My fingers feel a lot better now," he said and held up his hands. His skin had a normal color to it. I nodded. "So I think, if I can, I'm going to take a shower," he said and I nodded and pointed to the bathroom door.
"There are towels in the cabinet and the water takes about three minutes to warm up," I said watching as he stood.
"Yeah thanks," he said and closed himself in the bathroom. When the shower started I let out the breathe I was holding and got up to get blankets for the couch. I needed to go to bed before I started asking stupid questions or commenting on how beautiful he was or something. Not to mention I had school in the morning.
"Feels good to be clean am I right Cas?" he asked coming out of the bathroom in sweatpants with dripping hair and flushed cheeks. I nodded and finished the sandwich I was eating.
"If you need more blankets I have some," I said and pointed to the couch. He laughed.
"I think three will be good," he said and flopped down. "You going to bed?" he asked and I hesitated and almost said no.
"Yeah, I have class in the morning." I started packing stuff into my school bag.
"Kay and thanks. You didn't have to do all this," he said with a yawn.
"I know, but you're welcome," I said and escaped into the bathroom. When I came out he was already dead asleep. I smiled and shut the lights off before going into my room.
He was gone when I woke up and there was a note taped to my half full coffee pot.
Hey Cas, I didn't want to over stay my welcome. I made coffee and looked through the porn on your computer. It was right there, so I clicked it. Thanks again. I'll see you around.
-Dean
P.S. I took two of your blankets and the Cheetos. I'll pay you back when I see you next.
I groaned and banged my head against the counter. I didn't even want to know what he saw. The thought of him doing that was extremely embarrassing. Fuck my life.
Black pants, white coat, winter coat, L pass, wallet, keys, shoes, and I had no idea where my hat or gloves were. I searched my apartment finally finding them under my school bag. I headed out of the door glad it was a new semester. New classes and a new schedule helped break up the winter.
I'd been working at Fresh, an all organic restaurant, for over a year as one of the chefs. I had applied just as a waiter, but I'd finished culinary classes and was a certified chef and Mr. Kim, the owner, shoved me in the back with an apron and told me not to undersell myself. I was still taking art classes right now though. Art, specifically painting, was my main focus, and this job paid for my shitty apartment and school supplies. Last semester I worked mainly the lunch hour, but now I was working the dinner shift Monday through Thursday and the lunch on Sunday. Friday nights I helped out with a community art class that one of my favorite teachers ran.
Fresh was only two stops away from my apartment which was nice especially in the winter. It was a short walk to the restaurant from the L stop, but I was already freezing off body parts I didn't know I had.
"Hey you! Can you get that for me?" a guy called after me. I looked at my feet to see a half empty Gatorade bottle rolling toward me. I picked it up and brought it over to him. He was leaning against the hood of a shiny black car with the door propped open with a guitar case. "Thank you," he said and tossed it in before slamming the door.
"Yeah," I said and turned to go in since I didn't want to be late.
"Do you work here?" he asked and I turned again. I glanced at the door.
"Uh yeah," I told him and he shrugged.
"I've never seen you before," he said.
"Well I've worked here for awhile," I started to explain and then realized I'd never seen him before.
"Well I've been here every night since about August and I've never seen you," he told me coming to stand next to me. He was taller with light short hair and green eyes. I felt something stir inside of me, but decided it was better to associate the feeling with the cold.
"I worked the lunch shift," I finally managed to tell him and he nodded.
"That'd explain it."
"And what do you mean you're out here?" I asked curiously and he nodded towards the guitar case. "Oh you play?"
"No I set it up for people to look at, yes I play," he said with a laugh and I felt my wind burnt cheeks heat up.
"I better go inside," I mumbled and he laughed again.
"Alright. See ya," he said and I quickly went into the back of the restaurant. I punched in and headed to the kitchen. There were six chefs at the restaurant; me, Taylor, Becca, Bryce, Ian, and Daniel. I loved working with Becca and Taylor and I'd grown to like Daniel, but Bryce and Ian had some sort of issue still. Ian was hired at the same time I was and Bryce about five months later so it wasn't like I was the new guy in their territory or something. I could make a list of other possible reasons though. Luckily Becca and Taylor were working dinner, along with Ian, but still.
"Hey Castiel," Taylor said as I put on my apron. This was the only place other then my house that my full name was used. I tried to get them to call me Cas which I preferred, but none of them would.
"Hi," I said going to wash my hands. He followed me.
"You aren't covered in paint," he noted and I nodded. I had gotten time for a much needed shower.
"Who is the guy out front?" I asked. It was safe to ask because Ian wasn't here yet.
"Dean? You don't know Dean?" he asked and I shook my head. "Oh well you worked lunch. He's a guy Mr. Kim lets play in front of the restaurant. It draws in customers. He's pretty good actually. I don't know why he does it in the winter though. Seems like he'd freeze his hands off," Taylor explained and I nodded.
On my break I made that rash decision to bring Dean some tea. I had no idea if he liked tea, but it would at least make his hands warm. I slipped out of the kitchen over to where we kept the tea pots. I could feel Ian watching me, he was on break too, but he said nothing.
I grabbed my coat and then headed around to the front. He was sitting on the back of a bench and I cleared my throat to get his attention. He turned his head and smiled.
"Shouldn't you be working Castiel?" he asked and I blushed thankful it was dark.
"I uh I ..." I trailed off and held out the tea. "If you don't like it it'll at least keep your hands warm," I told him and he took it.
"Thanks." I watched him set his guitar down and wrap red fingers around the cardboard cup. "And Becca told me your name," he added and I nodded stuffing my hands in my pockets. It was cold.
"Yeah Taylor said you were Dean," I said and he nodded.
"Dean Winchester," he said and I smiled.
"Call me Cas," I said before he used my full name again. "Only work and my brothers call me Castiel," I quickly added.
"Alright Cas," he said and sipped the tea and made a face. "I feel like I'm drinking boiled grass," he complained and I laughed.
"It's green tea."
"It's gross," he retorted and smiled. "But thanks. It was getting to the point where I couldn't feel my fingers." I glanced at his still red fingers.
"You could get frostbite you know," I said and he shrugged.
"Yeah it's happened before. I'll live," he said.
"Are you sure?" I asked as the cup slipped from his hands. I stared at it and then his hands and then him. He looked almost as surprised as I was.
"Sorry," he said apologetically, but made no move to pick it up.
"Your hands ..."
"Are fine," he said and carefully slid them into his pockets.
"Then pick up the cup," I said and he just looked at me and then the ground.
"I can't," he said quietly.
"Show me your hands then," I said and his face twisted up.
"I'm fine," he urged. "Really, they're just cold." I stood there shivering until he reluctantly pulled his hands out. Blisters were starting to form on his fingers. I automatically reached for his hands which were ice cold.
"It's frostbite," I said and he shrugged.
"It'll pass," he told me and pulled his hands away. I wasn't stupid and I knew he was lying.
"I'm taking you to the ER," I said at last and he snorted.
"I don't think so," he said and slid his hands into his pockets again.
"I'm serious," I said and he just shrugged. "Please?" I tried.
"Don't worry I'll be fine," he laughed.
"Cas times almost up!" I heard Taylor's booming voice behind me.
"Don't go anywhere," I said to Dean and went over to Taylor. The restaurant wasn't too busy today and I still had three days when I was allowed to leave early. "I'm checking out early," I said to him and he raised his eyebrows. "No, no he has frostbite," I said quickly.
"Sure he does Cas," he laughed.
"It is," I said and pushed past him to check out. I grabbed the rest of my stuff, ignored the look Ian gave me, and headed back out to Dean. He was still sitting on the bench.
"Please let me take you," I said again.
"I can't, I don't have insurance," he said quietly. "And barely any money."
"I'll pay then, just please," I told him. "If you don't you could lose your fingers." He sighed and turned to me.
"I won't let you pay," he said and I rolled my eyes.
"Fine, whatever, let's just go," I said and motioned for him to follow. He glanced at his guitar and I quickly put it in its case and picked it up. Only then did he get up and follow me.
After wrestling his keys away from him and forcing him into the passenger seat, I finally got into his messy car. Blankets, pillows, magazines, books, clothes, food wrappers ... "Do you live in your car?" I asked and he just shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes," I murmured.
"It's only been for a few days," he shot back. The rest of the ride was in silence until he complained about me parking his car. I asked if he wanted to, but he could barely move his fingers, so that shut him up. I then dragged him into the ER and set about filling out the paperwork for him as he grumpily snapped out answers like what his birthday was and his phone number and his emergency contact who was his brother Sam.
"You can go now," he said reluctantly as the nurse took him to look at his hands. I just shrugged and followed. I don't really know why I was staying. To give him moral support?
"You're my ride," I simply said even though I had no objection to a bus. He seemed fine with that answer.
After assessing his hands and shooting him up with morphine, the nurse brought out a tub of very hot water to put his hands it. "As feeling comes back it will be painful. You have to keep them in the water for fifteen minutes though," she said and he just rolled his eyes as she placed his hands in the water.
"So are you from around here?" he finally asked and I shook my head.
"Texas," I said. "I came up here for school. I had to get away from my family. You?"
"Almost the same. Putting distance between myself and my dad," he said and I nodded.
"Why?" I asked automatically and he shrugged.
"I didn't want to go into the marines. I looked up to him my whole life, but when it came down to it I don't want to be a soldier. He says it's in me, but I just couldn't. I have other dreams."
"Music?"
"I guess, more like I just want to do my own thing for once. Growing up I helped in his shop and with my brother and suddenly I realized I wasn't doing anything for me."
"I know what that's like," I muttered thinking of my brothers at home.
"Do you have siblings?" he asked after wincing in pain.
"Yeah two brothers, older," I said and he nodded.
"Sam's my little brother. I always thought he was a little snot, but he got himself a full ride to Stanford, so I guess I can't say too much. More then I ever did," he said grinding his teeth.
"Does it hurt?"
"It feels like I'm being slapped with a thousand needles," he groaned. "How much time left?" I looked at the timer in front of him.
"About eight minutes."
"Fuck," he groaned and hung his head. "Aren't you a little young to be a cook?"
"No," I huffed. "I'm twenty-one thank you." He chuckled and I smiled.
"Whatever you tell yourself to get you through the day," he said and smiled before grimacing again.
"So why are you living in your car?" I asked and he sighed.
"I was staying with friends. I've been working odd jobs not making much and so it was basically a place to crash. They all got busted for drugs and I've been in my car," he said shortly.
"You can stay at my house," I blurted out and felt my cheeks turn red when he looked over and smiled at me.
"Nah, you've done enough for me Cas," he said and I didn't know if that made me relieved because I didn't like the idea of him in his car when it was so cold.
"At least for tonight. You can't be alone with all those painkillers in your system," I said quickly. I had school in the morning and really was looking forward to curling up in my bed under a pile of blankets, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep knowing Dean was somewhere freezing to death. Then again having him in my apartment made my insides fluttery. I probably was in for a sleepless night.
"Fine I guess. Do you live alone?" he asked and I nodded.
"One room apartment, but there's a couch," I told him.
"That's what I'm used to," he said and I opened my mouth to offer him my bed. I was shorter then he was and he might not fit comfortably on the couch, but my offer was cut off as he cried out in pain.
"It fucking hurts," he moaned sourly.
"Three minutes," I said and stopped myself before reaching out and rubbing the back of his neck. I opted to rub his shoulder and he seemed to relax a bit.
He was sobbing quietly when the timer went off and the nurse came back to check the circulation. He was given some more painkillers, cleared to go and expected to make a full recovery as long as he took proper steps to stay warm and keep the frostbite away. The drive to my apartment was silent except when I had to park and he again made grunts and whines until I squeezed his giant car into a spot. He followed me with a dazed expression now that he wasn't in so much pain and greeted those who were in the lobby of the building. It was only a little after nine thirty and some of my friends were getting ready to go out. They raised their eyebrows and made lewd gestures that I ignored and dragged Dean up to my apartment; third floor room 318.
"You paint?" he asked when I turned the light on and the mess became apparent.
"Yeah," I said rushing in and taking the work in progress off the easel and moved everything and cleared all the supplies off the couch. "It's my main focus," I said as he surveyed the entire tiny space.
"I can tell. There's paint on everything," he chuckled.
"I'm not going to wash my hands every five seconds in my own house," I defended glancing over the kitchen. Paint on the sink and handles, paint on the fridge, paint on the toaster, cabinet handles, coffee pot, counters ... I knew the bathroom and doorknobs looked like this too. He just smiled and opened the fridge. "Help yourself," I added as I took my coat off. I'd forgotten I was still in my uniform.
"You have normal food," he said shutting the fridge and looking at me.
"Why wouldn't I?" I asked confused and he opened it again and pulled out the leftover chicken from dinner yesterday.
"Where you worked I assumed," he said and I nodded.
"I like fast food and junk food as much as the next guy," I said and he nodded and started eating it.
"They hurt," he whined and pointed to a picture I had on the fridge. "Brothers?"
"Yeah," I said. I'd been forced into a Christmas picture at the request of Mary, my oldest brother Michaels' wife.
"Who's who?" he asked and took the picture down bringing it to me.
"Gabe and Michael and Michael's wife Mary and their daughter Anna and then Balthazar," I said using his full name. That's what he gets for calling me Cassie my entire life.
"Older?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Gabe is seven years older and Michael is ten years older and Balthazar is eight or nine years older or something. I don't know. He just kind of started living with my family before I was born and never left."
"Exotic name," he said and I shrugged.
"It is but that doesn't phase him. He claims it helps with the ladies or something," I muttered. Between him and Gabe the number of women, and sometimes men, I saw go in and out of their rooms growing up was astounding.
"So your family's big?" he asked putting the picture back on the fridge.
"Not really. It's just me and my brother's," I said. "Car crash when I was two," I added before he asked where my parents were. We didn't talk about it. When I was little I asked about it a lot and it made Michael mad. Our grandfather lived with us until he died when I was eight and Michael became our legal guardian. Dean nodded and went back to the fridge and pulled out the water pitcher.
"Cups?" he asked and I pointed to the cabinet.
"If you want to shower or whatever the bathroom is that door or you can watch TV or something," I said and picked up one of my textbooks. I had research to do, as well as painting, but I felt weird painting with an audience.
"Mmm in a bit," he said and sat on the couch picking up a tube of paint I'd tossed there. "Oil?"
"Yeah I like them the best," I said. From here on out I was only working with oil paint finally.
"What are you working on?" he asked and I sighed. I dragged the easel out again and held up the image I was copying. "It's small," he noted and I nodded.
"We are supposed to copy and make it our own, so the image is too small to see the individual strokes so that you have to manipulate the paint on your own and I hate it. I can't get the sand the right color," I explained and frowned at the half done painting I had on the easel.
"I don't see a problem," he said and I scrunched up my face and pointed to the beach.
"It's too light," I said and he shook his head and laughed.
"You're too focused and worried about it. I say paint the rest and then step back," he told me and I glared. He sounded like my art teacher. He laughed again. I rolled my eyes and dragged my easel back into the corner. "I like it though don't get me wrong. I really do," he said and I relaxed. It was more then my brothers said about my work anyway.
"Thanks," I said and sat at the other end of the small couch with my textbooks and pretended to read as he flipped through the channels. He stopped on the weather channel and watched as they talked about more freezing temperatures. I hoped he wouldn't be stupid about the weather, because I doubted I could convince him to stay longer.
Eventually he started flipping channels again and my fingers were itching to draw him. I tucked a piece of paper into my textbook and absently worked on his jaw and then lips and nose and finally eyes. "What're you doing?" he asked and I jumped.
"Art history," I blurted out and he nodded turning back to the TV.
"My fingers feel a lot better now," he said and held up his hands. His skin had a normal color to it. I nodded. "So I think, if I can, I'm going to take a shower," he said and I nodded and pointed to the bathroom door.
"There are towels in the cabinet and the water takes about three minutes to warm up," I said watching as he stood.
"Yeah thanks," he said and closed himself in the bathroom. When the shower started I let out the breathe I was holding and got up to get blankets for the couch. I needed to go to bed before I started asking stupid questions or commenting on how beautiful he was or something. Not to mention I had school in the morning.
"Feels good to be clean am I right Cas?" he asked coming out of the bathroom in sweatpants with dripping hair and flushed cheeks. I nodded and finished the sandwich I was eating.
"If you need more blankets I have some," I said and pointed to the couch. He laughed.
"I think three will be good," he said and flopped down. "You going to bed?" he asked and I hesitated and almost said no.
"Yeah, I have class in the morning." I started packing stuff into my school bag.
"Kay and thanks. You didn't have to do all this," he said with a yawn.
"I know, but you're welcome," I said and escaped into the bathroom. When I came out he was already dead asleep. I smiled and shut the lights off before going into my room.
He was gone when I woke up and there was a note taped to my half full coffee pot.
Hey Cas, I didn't want to over stay my welcome. I made coffee and looked through the porn on your computer. It was right there, so I clicked it. Thanks again. I'll see you around.
-Dean
P.S. I took two of your blankets and the Cheetos. I'll pay you back when I see you next.
I groaned and banged my head against the counter. I didn't even want to know what he saw. The thought of him doing that was extremely embarrassing. Fuck my life.