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Learning to Fly

Castiel POV

"Well I started out
down a dirty road
started out
all alone
and the sun went down
as across the hill
the town lit up
and the world got still

I'm learning to fly
but I ain't got wings
coming down
is the hardest thing."

Castile hummed along to his favourite song, Learning to Fly by Tom Petty. It was about 4am, and he'd just gotten back to bed - he felt like he was glowing. He was holding a notebook in his hands, except it wasn't just a notebook anymore, it was their notebook, at least Castiel felt that way. He couldn't help himself, in the darkness, he was grinning from ear to ear. His smooth hands graced over the coloured cover of the book, he opened it and their conversation danced in front of his eyes.

Dean's writing was small, it was jagged and slanting but still coordinated. Castiel ran his index finger over the indents in the paper, imagining Dean writing it, the look of concentration on his face as he tried to spell everything correctly. Castiel smiled again, he felt like a fool, a little girl - but it didn't matter. He re-read their conversation, remembering everything and re-tracing every detail.

C - "I couldn't sleep, I hope you don't mind."

D - "I wasn't sleeping, if that's what you mean."

C - "Are you okay?"

D - "Not so much, but it's not important - I'll be fine."

C - "What's wrong?"

D - "I don't want to talk about it. What are you doing here?"

C - "Like I said, I couldn't sleep."

D - "Why would you come here if you couldn't sleep?"

C - "I don't have anyone else to talk to in the middle of the night, and I figured that you would be awake."

D - "Well you figured right. Why can't you sleep?"

C - "Overreactive mind I guess."

D - "I know how that is."

C - "Your pupils seem really dilated, did the nurses put you on more meds?"

Castiel remembered the reddish hue that came to Dean's cheeks.

D - "Yes."

C - "How long ago?"

D - "Five hours, maybe five."

C - "Hmm, they should have worn off by now..."

D - "I don't know man."

C - "Why did they put you on more anyways? The pain should be getting more manageable."

There was the blush again. Castiel started smiling again at the memory. Smiles through badly lit air, the whispery sound of pen on paper, reflections of fire off of teeth and eyes. It was a magician's act with all the doubts and confusion, all the flying thoughts and questions, and all the sense of wonder.

Dr. Novak knew what was happening to him now, he recognized the warm ache in the pit of his stomach, he recognized the tightness against his ribs, the drifting sensation inside his skull. The state of mind where all the dumb rom-com cliches seemed to make sense. The dangerous feeling of falling, being scared out of your wits and exhilarated all at once. Right now he wasn't thinking about how his love was outlawed, he wasn't thinking about how Dean was most likely straight, he wasn't thinking about how he would loose everything he'd ever worked for if, by chance, this crazy thing worked out. Castiel was thinking about how he was learning to fly, to repair the wings that he'd broke all those years ago.

Dean POV

The sun was rising, but the dawn felt different - like it was looking upon a new earth. He hadn't slept at all, but he felt more rested than he had been in days and it was all thanks to his doctor.
Dean rolled his eyes at himself, surprised to find that he felt like laughing instead of crying. He still hurt inside, of course he still hurt - that would never go away, but Castiel was the sunshine that made the dark stay with the night where it belonged.
Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes at his inner monologue again, as the bubbly feeling of giggles rose in his chest. Had he devolved to some sort of 12 year old girlish state in the last few hours? The base was slowly coming alive around him, when was the next time he'd see Castiel?

For the past few minutes, Dean had tried and failed to reason with the part of him that was so magnetically attracted to his Doctor. It was impossible to destroy his feelings when he didn't even understand why he was feeling them; this was more than attraction, this felt like more than a connection. He hated the repetitive motions that his head was going through, like changing channels from Andy to Castiel, caught somewhere in between the radio stations of life and death. Grappling with his emotions was useless, Dean had figured that out a long time ago. When he opened up his defences and didn't kill his emotions, they usually tried to kill him; like with Andy. Dean wished with all his heart that he was still around, things were so much simpler with him than without. Who the hell was Castiel to barge into his finely ordered mess and start making him feel like he was brought back to life? Who exactly gave him the right to make him feel like he was slowly loosing control? Because it certainly wasn't Dean.

***

Castiel POV

The first thing Cas did when he got back into the hospital was check his schedule. He wasn't supposed to check on Dean for another four hours. His heart sunk, it would be risky to move his own schedule around during an active shift. Things were usually finely ordered around the hospital and messing with the time-table could throw the whole thing off and it would REALLY raise suspicion. Despite the disappointment in his stomach Castiel decided against going to see Dean early; their check-up was right before his break anyways so he could stay later. It was also the day that Dean was supposed to get on his feet again for the first time since the explosion - it would be worth the wait. Castiel took a deep breath, resigning himself to his work.

His first patient of the day was a wounded informant named Alhe. He was about seventy and had been shot in the leg when his cover was blown, it was very lucky that something worse didn't happen to him - however the doctors knew Alhe wasn't going to make it.
"Good morning Alhe," Castiel greeted as he walked up to his bed carrying a clipboard. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," Alhe replied in a thick accent.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Castiel said, smiling internally at the older man's bluntness.
"Not as sorry as me," Alhe said snappily as Castiel started to go through the motions of checking his vitals. He was aware of Alhe watching him with his watery brown eyes, he was always thinking about something and never saying. "There's something about you this morning Dr. Novak," Alhe said finally as Castiel listened to his heart.
"What's that?" He said, removing the stethoscope.
"You seem..." Alhe trailed off. "Sunnier."
"Sunnier?" Castiel replied, just managing to keep the slight rise in pitch out of his voice.
"Yes, sunnier. I think you say 'spring on your step'?"
"In your step, it's in." Castiel corrected.
"Yes well, you have that." Alhe said, raising a bony finger in the air to prove his point. He smacked his lips.
"Well, thank you - I guess?" Castiel said, knowing full well what had caused the "sunniness" in his mood.
"No problem Doctor. Now go, I want to eat my lovely packed soup alone," Alhe said; gesturing towards a matron who was pushing a food cart.
"Your vitals are stable," Castile mentioned just as he was about to go. He almost forgot to say anything.
"Your mind is somewhere else too," Alhe muttered offhandedly as he received his soup.
Castiel turned and headed off, thinking about what the old man had said. Was it really that noticeable? Maybe his feelings were already stronger than he thought.