Set Fire To My Heart

Chapter 7: It Only Takes A Spark

"Mr. Novak?" The doctor asks, and Castiel looks up from the bed. "Ah, good. You're awake. I have some good news. Your oxygen levels are normal again, so we're going to discharge you. Now, I still need you to take it easy. If you exercise, you're going to have to ease back into it. Your lungs are still healing. We are going to schedule a follow-up with your regular doctor in six months," the doctor explains. He gives Castiel a few other rules about sleeping and also a warning about possible stressors and a phone number for a therapist.

Castiel thanks the doctor, and when he leaves, Castiel pulls the blanket back and swings his legs off the bed. It's only been a couple of days, but the constant bed rest made his legs feel like jelly. Castiel holds on to the side of the bed until he feels more stable. He opens the drawer in the small caddy next to his bed. Dean's clothes are in a bag, and Castiel can't help smiling to himself. He's a little shorter than the firefighter, but he is a bit thicker, if not leaner than Dean. Slinging the bag on top of the covers, he opens it and inspects the contents. A soft and well-worn AC/DC shirt, a pair of sweats, socks, and boxers. Castiel can't stop the laugh that escapes as he wanders into the bathroom.

Showing quickly, Castiel exits the shower, his hair dripping, and it wraps it up in the towel. He steps into the boxers, stretching the band a little. "We're not quite the same size, Dean," Castiel whispers to himself. He pulls the shirt over his head and shimmies the sweats up his legs. Luckily, the pants are a bit larger, and they hang a little off his supple hips. "I think he'll have to retrieve these off of me, if he wants them back," Castiel teases his reflection. He pads out of the bathroom and tosses a quick text to Samantha to pick him up at the hospital. He also tucks Dean's phone number into the overnight bag and takes a seat in the chair in his room. About forty-five minutes go by, and Samantha has him loaded up in her car.

"How'd the meeting go with Dean?" Samantha opens up the conversation.

Castiel eyes her. "It went very well. Why do you ask?" He questions, suspiciously.

"Boss, you have never wanted someone like I saw how you wanted him," Samantha mentions, eyes on the road. "I am rooting for you. I hope the two of you hit it off. I also hope he's into guys. It's been some time since you've had a date, too," she jabs, a smirk on her lips.

Castiel sighs. "It hasn't been that long. Has it?" He does some mental math in his head. Since before, he opened the store, and that was, it had been a long time! Castiel cringes silently. "Do I come off as desperate?" He asks her softly.

"No, never. You are sincere and kind. Anyone would be lucky to have a chance with you," Samantha smiles again. "Here we go," she announces as she pulls into the driveway of Castiel's modest home. She smiles at the two Japanese maples in the yard and the millions of flowers that line the walkways and the front. The two-story house is smaller than the other homes in the neighborhood, but it's the inside that's impressive.

"Everything okay there?" Castiel asks, breaking Samantha from her thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. Are you going to be okay alone? You were just in a fire, and well, I think you should have someone stay with you for a couple of days until you adjust," Samantha says, concerned.

"I'll be fine. You may like to know that Dean gave me his phone number and told me that if I needed anything that he would provide for me. What a gentleman, huh?" Castiel laughs as he pushes the door open. He grabs the bag from the floorboard and waves before closing the door. Fishing his keys out of the duffel, he wanders up the walk to his door. He turns to Samantha, still waiting in her car, and shoos her off. She shakes her head but does as he asks. She pulls away and down the street, waving out her window. Castiel smiles and unlocks the door, stepping over the threshold.

The stale air insults his nose, and he moves over to the closest window, opening it quickly. Castiel follows suit and opens the rest of the windows; the warm air is flooding the house with instant freshness. He takes a deep breath but immediately regrets it as he starts coughing uncontrollably. "Okay," he pants after he recovers. "No deep breaths yet," Castiel shakes his head as he enters his bedroom. He feels incredibly tired after the coughing episode and drops onto his back on the bed. In a short time, he's dozing.

Castiel is surrounded by fire and heat again. He screams, thrashing against the flames that threaten to consume him. His skin begins to blister and split. Once more, the angel comes and places his hands upon Castiel, healing the damage. This time the angel has a face, and it belongs to Dean. Those green eyes land on Castiel's lips, and Dean leans in, kissing him gently. Castiel groans, his hands fisted into Dean's robe.

Castiel wakes in the dark; he reaches over and turns on the lamp. The room flooded with soft light. "Oh, Dean. You are stunning," Castiel muses to himself. His hand drifts to the table to get his phone, and it comes back to him that the fire destroyed it. He sighs, tomorrow he'll have to get a new phone, then call the insurance company. That's going to be a pain. Looking at the clock, he notes it already past one, so Castiel pulls back the covers and tucks himself in. He grips the edge of Dean's shirt and thinks of the green-eyes beauty as he drifts off again.

When the morning sun shines through the window, Castiel climbs out of bed. He looks at himself in the mirror. Running his fingers through his unruly hair does nothing, as usual. Passing through the doorway, he enters the kitchen down the ways on the left. Castiel places a coffee cup under the spout of the Keurig and fills the water reservoir. Blindly, he reaches into the jar of coffee k-cups and places one into the holder on the machine. Finally, he starts the brewing process and leans back against the counter as he waits. Slowly, he rubs his temples, trying to slow the progress of the growing stress headache. There is so much to do today, and he needs caffeine to survive it all. When the coffee maker finally spews its last spit of water, Castiel pulls the cup from under the funnel and blows over the liquid. He takes a slow sip, relishing in the bold flavor splashing over his taste buds. Almost immediately, the bust of caffeinated energy surges through his bloodstream and rejuvenates his sleepy body. He inhales slowly and feels the pull of his lungs and stops. Castiel smiles; he's learning how to control the coughing fits.

Heading back into his bedroom, he looks through the closet for some clothes. The trip to the phone store shouldn't be difficult, especially when he was looking forward to getting a new phone anyway. The call after getting home will be harder. Castiel hated dealing with professional stuff. If he could hire someone to manage that part of the business, he would, but he couldn't see spending a lot of cash at this moment just to not deal with some red tape. Castiel grumbles as he pulls off his shirt and slicks his pits up with deodorant. Suiting up in a blue button-up and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, he slips on his shoes and enters the garage.

"Fuck," Castiel mutters, shaking his head to see the room empty. "The car must still be back at the store," he sighs. He reaches into his pocket for his phone, forgetting that it's broken. "Fuck!" He yells, throwing his keys across the garage. Castiel pulls at his hair and stomps back into the house. He pitches his coffee cup into the air, and it smashes in the sink. "Why?! Why did this have to happen?!" Castiel continues to yell, storming down the hallway and tearing off his clothes.

The bed is waiting when Castiel throws himself onto it. He pulls the blankets up, coughing hard, chest tightening. It takes at least ten minutes to calm down; the tears were spilling down his face from exertion and pain. "I'm down with today. Fuck it all," Castiel whispers, and he closes his eyes. Sleep is fitful at best for him and full of dreams and fire. Many times throughout the day, he wakes, screaming. "Can I get some sleep?" Castiel grumbles into the dimming evening light. He throws a pillow into the closet and kicks off the blankets, then suddenly, the flashback hits him. Imaginary heat invades and scorches his lungs, and he begins choking. Castiel throws himself to the floor, seeing smoke billow into his bedroom, but he isn't there, he's back in the store. The memory grips his mind so tight, Castiel can feel the concrete under his palms.

"Dean?" Castiel calls out. He knows that at some time, someone will save him. How long did it take last time? How long was he in that burning building. Anxiety fills his chest, heart speeding up, and he knows he has to get out of the burning building. Slowly, he drags himself along the floor. He recalls the fire safety he learned in college. After some time, Castiel gets to the door. It's dark outside when it gets open, but he pushes on and finally lands on his porch. Where the fuck was Dean? Where are the trucks? Who the hell is going to put out the fire? The questions circle his brain as he falls asleep outside, on his back, at the entrance to his home.