Dr. Novak (AO3)

“Awww, come on, Sammy,” Dean pulled a face. He’d been dumb enough to promise that Sam could pick what they did that day if Dean got to pick where they ate last night. Turducken Slammers didn’t seem worth it now that Sam had smugly announced they were going ice skating. Dean hated ice skating. He hated ice and anything that didn’t involve him keeping his feet on sturdy ground.

Plus he thought the skates looked stupid.

“You said I could pick, Dean, and I wanna go ice skating,” Sam told him firmly, a smile tugging at his lips. “I used to go a lot in college, and Jess said she’d come with me when she gets back from visiting her mom. A deal’s a deal, Dean.”

Dean sighed, knowing he was defeated and he didn’t have any leverage at all to change Sam’s mind. Still, he grumbled the entire drive to the ice rink, and was still grumbling when he was handed his skates. Sam just wanted to see him fall on his ass and embarrass himself. Well, he’d get his wish. Dean had done this exactly once, and had spent most of his time sitting on his ass. The rest of the time was spent trying to get off his ass once he was sitting on the ice.

There was nothing good about ice skating at all, and nothing good could come of this trip.

He fumbled for a while with the skates, as if he hoped his delay would result in Sam changing his mind. It was pointless, as Sam just waited patiently for Dean to eventually get to his feet and head out onto the ice.

Sam took off immediately, whizzing away expertly, while Dean held onto the handrail for dear life. “If man were made to walk on ice, he’d have penguin feet,” he huffed, not letting go of the handrail as his feet slid forward.

After a full circuit, Sam came back over to him with a grin. “C’mon, you need to let go of the side at some point, Dean. Come round with me.”

Dean shook his head vehemently, tightening his grip if anything. Let go of the side? Skate without holding on to anything? No way.

Sam folded his arms, tightening his jaw and glaring at Dean. “I didn’t suggest we come here for you to ruin it by sulking in a corner. Come on. I won’t let go.”

He held out his hand, waiting patiently. Dean groaned and grabbed onto Sam’s wrist with both hands, grunting as his foot skidded. “I’ll go round once. Then I’m going back to sulking.”

Grasping Sam’s wrist tightly, Dean allowed himself to slowly be pulled away from the edge of the rink, dragged out into the crowd and around the rink. Okay, so it wasn’t half bad once he got moving properly. He trusted Sam not to let him fall, even when he started speeding up.

Until his brother let go.

Dean immediately started freaking out internally, arms flailing as he tried to find something to grip onto, something to stop him from falling. Without Sam’s balance, there was no way he would be able to make it to the edge again. Dean knew he was going too fast, that he could stop, but he couldn’t remember how to turn and he was going to hit someone…

Which he did. Hard.

He was vaguely aware of pain in his ankle and a throbbing in his head, but he knew he’d hit someone and he struggled to see what had happened, who he’d hurt. Distantly, he could hear Sam yelling and the sound of two people claiming they were doctors, but everything felt a little fuzzy.

By the time everything came back into focus, Dean was off the ice, staring into a pair of big blue eyes.

“What happened?” He asked groggily. “Where’s the chick I rammed into? Is she okay? Who are you? My ankle hurts.”

He blinked and focused, and the eyes became a concerned face, smiling slightly. Quite a handsome guy, if that was high on Dean’s priorities now. He needed to know that he hadn’t seriously hurt someone, that was his priority.

“She’s fine,” the guy paused and then amended his statement. “Well, she’s not, but she will be. She hit her face off the ice, so she has a couple of superficial cuts and bruises, and she sprained her wrist during the fall, but it’s nothing serious.”

Dean nodded, feeling incredibly guilty, but he was glad that it wasn’t worse. Looking up, he saw the redhead woman in question, across the room and he frowned. Was she doing the Vulcan salute at him? Glancing down, he registered the Star Trek insignia on his shirt and glanced up again with a small smile.

“Sorry,” he called out, wincing at the shooting pain to his head.

“It’s fine, really. I saw that tall guy let go of you when you clearly weren’t ready. No harm done,” she called out, winking at him and turning her gaze back to the golden haired guy taking care of her.

“That’s my brother,” his own doctor spoke up mildly, having watched the exchance. “You’re very lucky to have fallen in front of two fully-trained doctors. That’s the best time to have an accident.”

Dean exhaled, a huff of laughter. “I don’t feel lucky, Doc. In fact, my head is ringing and my ankle is throbbing. Can I get out of here yet?”

The doctor’s hands grasped his leg a little tighter, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, Dean. Your brother is outside waiting for the ambulance to arrive as we speak. I fear you have concussion, and your ankle will need an x ray. You’ll probably be kept overnight for observation.”

With a groan, Dean threw an arm over his face. More hospital bills. This was exactly what he needed to deal with right now.

“Well, at least you’re pretty,” he ground out, the words coming out muffled because of his arm, but when he lowered it, it was clear the doctor had understood him from the pink tinge to his cheeks. “I’m sorry I ruined your evening, buddy. I know doctors don’t get a lot of time off, and you just said you were here with your brother, and now you’re having to work…”

The blue-eyed doctor held his hand up to stop Dean talking, the other keeping pressing a cold compress to Dean’s forehead. “It’s fine. I find I am not a big fan of ice skating anyway, so there’s no harm done. Besides, as you say, at least you’re pretty.” He smiled widely, clearly proud of himself.

Dean chuckled, inclining his head in thanks at the compliment. “How about we don’t go iceskating again together, maybe next Saturday night? Or whenever your schedule gives you time for a date?” He asked, hopefully.

“You don’t even know my name.”

Dean had to concede that point, but it didn’t deter him. “You could tell me, and then I could ask you out again?”

Before the doctor had time to answer, two paramedics came through with the stretcher, and Sam in tow. He got onto it easily, turning to the pretty doctor for an answer to his question, but he had already gone.

Dean’s face fell, because the one good thing about this whole shitty accident had just disappeared from right under his nose. He groaned and lay back against the stretcher. Clearly, the paramedics took his sound to be one of pain, because he was immediately offered painkillers.

The whole ordeal was irritating, but it went quite smoothly. Furious with his brother, Dean ensured to tell him that he wasn’t coming in the ambulance, and as he had the car keys, he left Sam to walk home alone. He ended up waiting hours to be seen in the waiting room, but thankfully the woman he’d injured, Charlie, was with him the whole time, and they struck up a quick friendship.

She didn’t know the name of her doctor either, so Dean lost all hope of ever finding the handsome guy who’d patched him up. It made him grouchy, even more so when Charlie was allowed to leave and he was told he was being kept a little longer.

Waiting for a doctor, he grunted when one eventually entered his room. “About time, I just want to get out of here… you!”

Dean trailed off, gawping at the sight of the doctor from the ice rink. He was now in full uniform, an ID badge proudly declaring him as Dr. C. Novak, and was clutching a bag of grapes with a shy smile.

“Hello, Dean. Here, I bought you these. My shift doesn’t actually start for a few minutes,” he explained, settling down beside Dean’s bed and laying the grapes on the bedcovers. “How are you feeling?

Dean squinted at the badge. “Well, Dr. Novak, I gotta say I’m feeling well enough to get let out of here.” He replied pointedly, watching in awe as Dr. Novak threw his head back and laughed, displaying his perfect throat.

“You’re probably right. I’ll get someone to discharge you in a few minutes. Please, Castiel. Like I said, I’m not actually on shift for a few more minutes. I have the night shift this week.”

Dean nodded slowly, licking his lips. “Do you visit all your patients before your shift, or just the cute ones?” He asked, with a playful smile.

Castiel laughed again, shaking his head. “Technically, you’re not my patient. Plus it seemed only courteous to check in on you after I patched you up.”

“And the grapes?” Dean pressed, sitting up slightly. “Are they for courtesy too? You know you never answered my question about that date.”

Castiel smiled, opening his mouth to reply when a nurse stuck his head in. “Dr. Novak? You’re needed straight away.”

With a small smile, clearly used to this, Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand and got to his feet, gesturing to the grapes, before turning to the nurse. “I’ll be right there. Please see about getting Mr. Winchester discharged immediately, and call his brother to come and pick him up.”

He left the room without another word or another glance back at the patient, leaving Dean disappointed. He understood a rejection when he received one, however. It had been a long shot anyway. No way a hot-as-hell doctor would want to go on a date with him. All he’d done was show Castiel that he was a clumsy idiot.

He left the grapes on the bed when he left, wanting to keep at least some small measure of his pride, but he couldn’t carry them with his crutches anyway. He’d kicked up enough of a fuss about leaving in a wheelchair that they’d allowed him to walk out on his own with crutches.

“Dean!”

Dean paused, trying to shuffle around to see who was calling him, when he spotted Castiel jogging towards him. He tensed a little and forced a smile, turning to face him.

“Hey. Cas, um, Dr. Novak.” He muttered. “What’s up?”

Castiel flushed, holding out the bag of grapes that Dean had left behind. “You forgot these. How else are you going to call me about our date?”

Dean blinked and looked down at the grapes, taking the bag in confusion. “What do you mean, call you?”

“You did see the number I placed in there, right?” Castiel asked, reaching forward and tugging out a scrap of paper, showing it to Dean and peering at his expression. “Oh. You didn’t.”

Tucking one of the crutches under his arm, Dean shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Kinda thought you were letting me down easy, Cas.”

Castiel smiled, shaking his head and reaching forward to press the scrap of paper into Dean’s hand. “I’d like to go on a date with you, Dean. Give me a call sometime. I have to run now, take care.”

He jogged back down the hall and Dean glanced at the paper in his hand, reading the hastily scrawled details on it with a wide smile spread across his face.

Call me
555-0118

Masterpost