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“911, what's your emergency?”
In the last ten years Dean has said that very phrase more times than any human is able to count. In the early hours of the morning, just a cup of coffee and his own ingrained stubbornness keeping him awake; in the late afternoon, when most people are talking about going home after work and Dean's shift just started; in the middle of the night, faced with the craziness that is mankind.
Dean has been through it all and he wouldn't miss it for the world.
After a long series of odd jobs and not being really sure where he even belonged he stumbled upon the rescue coordination center truly by chance and got hooked. He had to go through excessive training and many hours of doubting himself and his choices, but in the end it was all worth it.
He has a steady job, a nice little apartment close to the park, Sam and Eileen just living a few streets away and an amazing bakery right next to his work that sells the most amazing pie he has ever tasted.
Yep, life is good.
And so he has a small smile on his face as on this very sunny Friday his shift is coming to an end. Just the other day his brother aced some super important case he and his team had been working on for several months now and Sam seems determined to celebrate that success in great style now. So he invited family and friends to an impromptu barbecue later today and Dean can't wait to see all their faces again.
That is, even though he seriously likes his job, he finds himself rather eager to leave as soon as possible this time around. Benny, who is sitting right beside him at his own station and knows all about Dean's plans, shoots him an amused smile.
“You've got some mighty ants in your pants, brother,” he says, laughing loudly.
Dean is far too excited to even deny it. “Yeah, well, you'd be too if you'd ever witnessed Eileen handling a grill,” he states. “It's the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Hell, if Sam wouldn't have been so stupidly in love with that woman Dean would've proposed to her a long time ago. As it is, though, Dean is gracious enough to accept her as his sister-in-law instead.
“I actually did witness it, remember?” Benny points out. “That little summer barbecue they had last year. It certainly was something.”
Dean grins brightly. “She's great, right?”
“I was just one perfectly grilled steak away from dumping Andrea right there on the spot and declaring my eternal love to Eileen instead,” Benny adds with a booming laugh. “Your brother is a lucky man.”
Dean nods in agreement and is just about to add to that when his line starts to ring. He signals Benny with a quick hand gesture that he has to get back to work before instantly accepting the call.
“911, what's your emergency?”
At first there is silence on the other end of the line. Just a bit of shuffling.
Dean did have the occasional butt dial in the last couple of years before, so it's certainly not something to get either annoyed or concerned about at first. He waits patiently a second longer and then asks again, “Hello, is someone there?”
It remains quiet for another moment before a timid voice suddenly says, “Hello?”
Dean immediately straightens his back.
A child.
By the sound of their voice, a young one.
“Hello?” the kid says again. “My dad … he needs help.”
It seems to be a boy, if Dean is correct.
Dean takes a deep breath. Of course it's not the first time he's dealing with a child – after all, the youngest he ever talked with on the phone had been just two years old at the time – and he's been trained right from the start how to handle such a situation. Nonetheless, kids always hit a certain spot inside of him. Some paternal instinct suddenly startles awake he barely knew he had to begin with.
“Okay, your dad needs help?” he repeats, just to make sure he gets everything correctly. While simultaneously letting his technical equipment do its magic and trace the call back because getting a proper address out of child is oftentimes a true struggle. “What happened, buddy?”
“He fell down the stairs,” the boy explains, his tone shaky. “And now he's asleep.”
Dean can't help a grimace. Poor little guy, having to see such a thing. He can't imagine this being even remotely easy.
And as he's already beginning to send a message to the next emergency unit, he says, “Okay, buddy, you're doing great. What is your name?”
Dean knows there are more pressing matters at hand, but it's also fairly important to put the caller at ease as good as it's possible under such circumstances. Especially when it's a young child.
“I'm Jack,” the boy says, sniffling lowly.
Of course Dean's used to people crying in this line of work, but for some reason Jack's unsteady voice makes the desire to reach through the phone connection and pull the kid into a soothing embrace even stronger than usual.
“Hey, Jack. I'm Dean.”
Technically it's not protocol to introduce yourself, but that little fella deserves to have a name to the voice in his ear.
“You're doing great, Jack,” Dean assures him. “You're at home, right?”
“Yes,” Jack replies. “Daddy just picked me up from kindergarten.”
Dean nods along. “And your dad fell down the stairs? Did you see how it happened?”
Jack's voice is a bit wobbly as he confirms with a quiet and very incoherent mumble. While Dean's heart breaks a little for him.
“Did your dad fell all the way from the top?” Dean wonders, the urge to console the little one and tell him that everything will be alright battling fiercely with his need to do his job right and get as much information as he's able to. “Or just a few steps?”
Jack falls silent again for a moment, exhaling loudly.
“From the top,” the boy explains eventually. “He fell … it was so loud …”
A grown man toppling down a whole set of stairs certainly isn't a quiet affair, that's for sure. And it probably startled the poor kid quite a great deal.
“Jack, buddy, you did the right thing calling me,” Dean reassures. “I already sent some doctors your way to look after your dad, alright? They will be there in a few minutes.”
Jack makes a humming noise, still clearly shaken up about it.
“Alright, Jack, do you think you can step close to your dad and check if he's still breathing?” Dean asks. “Do you know what that means? Breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you know what that means?” Dean inquires. “Or yes, he's breathing?”
“Yes and yes.”
Dean smiles again. Jack seems like a bright little kid.
“Okay, that's very good,” Dean states, trying to sound as calmly as possible. Of course he knows that the father still breathing doesn't necessarily mean they're out the woods because the man could still have some serious head injury, but it's at least something. “You're doing great, Jack.”
There's a bit of shuffling on the other side of the line which sounds like Jack moving around.
“Can you see something else?” Dean goes on. “Some injuries? Like a bump on the head …?”
“I dunno,” Jack says, sounding shy again.
“It's okay, buddy,” Dean hurries to reassure. “You've been very helpful, your dad will be proud.”
Dean has no doubt about that.
“You all alone with your dad?” Dean asks. “Or is there any other adult around?”
“It's just us,” Jack tells him. “Mommy is with the angels in Heaven. And Dad … he apoted – he apodted –”
Dean frowns, for a second not sure what the boy is trying to say. But soon enough realization hits him. “He adopted you?” he guesses.
“Yes!” Jack confirms. “He's still my dad, though.”
It seems like he had to make that argument already more than once in the past, like people or kids around him tried to tell him otherwise before and he saw the need to defend himself.
“Yeah, of course he is,” Dean agrees immediately. “He sounds like a great dad.”
“He is,” Jack states with emphasis. “We want to make pie today 'coz it's Auntie Meg's birthday.”
Dean can't help a grin. “Dude, I love pie.”
“Daddy's is the best,” Jack claims. “He has bees and they make the best honey and that makes the pie super special, he says …”
And so he goes on and Dean lets him, just happy that he provided enough distraction for the boy not to freak out about his father unconscious on the floor.
But then Jack suddenly stops his chatter as a low groan arises.
“Daddy!” Jack exclaims, both relieved and worried.
It seems the father is slowly starting to wake up.
“Okay, Jack, listen to me. Tell your dad not to move,” Dean instructs right away. “It's important, you hear me? Tell him to stay on the floor, the paramedics will arrive very soon.”
With a potential head trauma or who knows what other kinds of injuries it's never a good idea to get too active. Not without a thorough medical assessment first.
But it's certainly a good sign that the man is already coming back to consciousness on his own.
“Dad, don't move!” Jack orders with all the authority a child his age is able to muster. Under different circumstances it probably would've been the most adorable thing.
Dean hears a lot of confused noises, the father obviously disoriented after his fall. Which is, of course, not astonishing.
“No, Daddy, don't move!” Jack repeats with emphasis, by the sound of it apparently stepping closer to his father. “Dean said so.”
There are more bewildered noises following that statement.
And in the end Dean notices a deep voice wondering, “Who is Dean?”
“He is my friend,” Jack states easily. As if it's the most obvious thing.
And Dean feels a little flutter in his chest at those words.
The father, however, seems none the wiser. Which is quite unsurprising, Dean has to admit. The poor guy probably doesn't even know what's up and down right now.
“Your … your friend?” The father asks, his words a little slurred. “I don't –”
“Don't. Move. Daddy!” Jack commands again and it actually sounds like he's stomping his foot down.
“But –”
The man appears highly confused and he's most likely also in quite some pain. No wonder he has a hard time catching up.
“Jack?” Dean tries to get the boy's attention back. “You think you could give the phone to your dad for a second? I'm gonna make sure he keeps his butt on the ground.”
Jack actually chuckles at that before some rustling indicates the phone being handed over. “Here, Dad, Dean wants to speak to you.”
At first there is nothing but noises, the man probably fumbling around with the device. In the end, though, Dean hears a hesitant, “Hello?”
Damn, the voice is impossibly deep. And highly puzzled by everything, it seems.
“Hello, this is 911,” Dean kinda introduces himself.
It doesn't take long for the father to finally connect the dots. “Oh.”
“Your son called us when you fell down the stairs,” Dean explains. “You've been unconscious for a while. The paramedics are already on the way, it won't take long anymore.”
The man apparently needs a moment to wrap his head around the news.
“I – I –” he whispers. “I think I missed the upper step by accident … I don't remember much …”
“That's perfectly normal,” Dean assures. “What is your name, sir?”
“Novak,” the father answers right away. “Castiel Novak.”
Surely an unusual name.
“Okay, Mr. Novak, where are you hurt?”
The man falls silent for a moment there, probably intently assessing himself. “Um, my head hurts quite a bit,” he confesses eventually, almost sounding as if he's sharing an embarrassing secret. “And my shoulder, I think …”
Dean immediately sends the new information to the ambulance already rushing to the scene.
“Okay, the paramedics are almost there,” Dean says. “Try to stay awake. With a possible head injury you'll never know.”
“Yeah …” Mr. Novak says, suddenly sounding distracted again.
For a second Dean fears he's slipping back into unconsciousness, but then he suddenly notices someone sniffling in the background and it doesn't take a genius to know what's happening.
“Oh Jack,” the father whispers gently. “It's alright, I'm fine.”
“But, Daddy –”
“You did amazing, Jack,” Mr. Novak emphasizes. “Calling 911 all on your own.”
“I was so scared,” Jack breathes, voice thick with tears. “But Dean helped me. He is very nice.”
Mr. Novak makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. “Yes, he sounds very nice indeed.”
Dean can't help blushing on the other end of the line. So much, in fact, that he registers Benny shooting him a funny look.
But before those people are able to get him anymore flustered suddenly the sound of sirens blasts through the phone. It appears the paramedics finally arrived.
“Okay, Jack, please open the door,” Mr. Novak tells his son. “They're here to take us on a trip in their ambulance.”
What follows are a lot of different noises and soon afterwards a bunch of new voices in the distance, probably the paramedics being greeted by Jack.
“Um, Dean?” Mr. Novak picks up his voice again and, weirdly enough, despite all the shuffling by other people on his side of the line and Dean being surrounded by several of his coworkers sitting at their terminals it somehow feels like the two of them suddenly are all alone.
Dean can't really explain it and it actually makes him frown in confusion, but he forces himself to focus on the situation at hand.
“Yes, Mr. Novak?”
The man releases a sound that might be a light chuckle. “Castiel, please,” he corrects Dean. “Or Cas.”
Alright. Of course it isn't unusual to switch to a first name basis with one of your callers – it actually puts a lot of scared and/or injured people a bit more at ease –, but Dean finds himself squirming on his seat as he tries Castiel's name quietly on his tongue.
“I'm just – thank you,” Castiel says. He seems like it's taking a lot of effort to speak, but he obviously needs to get this off his chest nonetheless. “Jack must've been rather afraid …”
“He was very brave,” Dean states with a gentle smile. “You're having an amazing kid there, Cas.”
Dean truly feels Castiel's affection radiating through the phone connection. “Indeed I have.”
Dean can't help hoping and even praying that those two will be coming alright out of this.
“Still, I wanted to thank you,” Castiel repeats. “He seems way calmer than I expected him to be in such a situation and I assume that is partly your doing.”
Dean clears his throat awkwardly. “It's fine, I'm just doing my job here –”
Castiel hums a little and actually seems like he's on the verge of contradicting, but then suddenly the voices are coming nearer and he hears the paramedics asking all kinds of questions about the accident, carefully evaluating the man's condition.
And as Dean starts to wonder whether he should hang up because they clearly don't need him anymore, Castiel is suddenly back again.
“Dean? Are you still there?”
Dean finds himself snapping to attention again. “Yeah, I am.”
Castiel's answering smile is actually palpable. “We just wanted to say a quick goodbye. Right, Jack?”
Straight on command Jack's voice jumps right in. But instead of following his father's suggestion he asks, quite puzzled, “Dean is not coming with us?”
Castiel chuckles. “No, Jack, I'm sorry. Dean has to go back to work and help other people.”
“People like you and me?”
“Exactly?”
While Jack appears to consider this Dean hears the paramedics' voices in the background urging the little family to cut their phone call short so that they can drive to the hospital.
“Okay, Dean,” Jack leaps back into the conversation. “Thank you for being so nice.”
Something strong tugs at Dean's heartstrings. “You're welcome, buddy.”
“Goodbye, Dean.”
“Bye.”
And then the line goes dead and even though Dean knows they're in capable hands now he finds himself strangely eager to drop everything and rush to the hospital himself. To be there for Jack while his dad gets examined, to offer Castiel a reassuring smile, in person this time, to …
Suddenly his phone rings again.
And Dean sighs.
Back to work, it seems.
“911, what's your emergency?”
---
Even two weeks later Dean can't stop thinking about Jack and his father.
Granted, over the course of the last couple of years there have been quite a few emergency calls he will never forget – some endearing, some dramatic, and a few utterly heartbreaking –, but for some reason he's unable to get those two out of his head. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't the most memorable phone call he ever received, however, it stays with him nonetheless for most of the day and also many hours of the night.
It feels like his mind is trying to tell him something and he can't really grasp what that is.
And it's getting super frustrating. Soon after Jack's call Dean reached out to the hospital and asked about Castiel's condition because otherwise it would've haunted him for the rest of his days. Naturally the staff was not allowed to give him any detailed information, but at least they were kind enough to let him know that Castiel had been hurt, yes, but not that badly, and that he was expected to make a quick and full recovery.
Dean figured that would've been enough to tame down his curiosity. Knowing that father and son would be fine and soon enough tell the story at family gatherings and birthday parties as a little anecdote. They would forget about the dispatcher in no time at all, perhaps only vaguely recall some little details here and there. Not enough to form a proper picture.
So yes, Dean has every reason to move on from this. After all, the whole incident had a happy ending.
And yet Dean is sitting at his station even two weeks later and remembers that sensation in his chest when Jack called him his friend. Or the way Castiel said his name. As if the whole thing's been just a few minutes ago.
“You're spacing out again,” a voice next to him suddenly jerks him out of thoughts and Dean needs to blink a few times and catch up on things to realize it's been Benny.
“I'm fine,” Dean says absently.
“Yeah, that's why you didn't notice your shift ended ten minutes ago?” Benny asks with a chuckle.
Dean's gaze instantly flickers to the clock next to him and indeed the day got away from him. He notices Tessa already lurking nearby, eager to take over his terminal and start her own shift, but apparently hesitant to approach him herself.
“Your head is in the clouds lately,” Benny points out and shamelessly grabs Dean's upper arm to hoist him upwards. “Not sure if you got some bad news or something or if you're in love.”
Dean scoffs. “Those are vastly different things.”
“Not necessarily,” Benny says with a shrug. “Love can make you do crazy things.”
Dean doesn't even know how to react to that, doesn't even know how to react to anything because he just can't explain this weird funk he's been in for the last two weeks, and in the end settles on silence.
It's the safest bet, for sure.
“Well, I actually just came over 'cause I got a call from downstairs,” Benny tells him. “You have some visitors.”
“Visitors?” Dean creases his forehead in confusion. He never had anyone visiting him at work before, not even Sam.
“Yeah, they actually just wanted to leave something for you,” Benny says. “But I figured you'd want to see them, so I asked them to wait.”
Dean has no real idea what's happening, but Benny's wide grin is almost terrifying as he suddenly shoves Dean in an open elevator and pushes the button for the first floor before Dean even has a chance to protest.
And just a few moments later he finds himself in the lobby.
Dean pauses, not really sure what to even think, and eventually decides to stride over to the reception and ask for clarification. But right on his path he's suddenly intercepted by a man who had been lingering in the small waiting area.
“Dean?” he wonders, his tone tentative.
Dean stops immediately and looks at the guy. At his messy hair, his light stubble, his defined jaw, and his stupidly blue eyes.
Dean blinks and fights back a powerful blush because this might very well be the most gorgeous man who ever walked the earth and Dean sure as hell hadn't been prepared for this at all.
“Um, yes?”
The man smiles, brightly and so utterly beautiful Dean's breath catches.
“I'm glad you're still here,” the guy says. “We were running a few minutes late and I already feared we missed you.”
Dean blinks some more.
And stares at this man who appears to know him like an old friend. While Dean wracks his brain and tries to remember if he's seriously that forgetful that such a stunning specimen of humankind could've slipped his mind.
“I'm sorry for bothering you at your work place,” the man continues. “But we wanted to show our gratitude, I hope you don't mind.”
Dean leans a bit closer on instinct … because that voice … that voice …
So deep and gravelly …
So familiar …
Is it possible?
Just as he's honestly considering that he lost his mind somewhere along the way he suddenly notices the other person in their presence. More precisely, a small boy, perhaps around four years old, shyly hiding behind the gorgeous man's legs.
“That's really Dean, Dad?” the little one asks.
And that voice …
Dean remembers consoling it …
“Jack?” he whispers, his eyes going wide.
The boy instantly perks up at that while the man who most certainly is Castiel laughs gently. “You see, Jack? Dean does remember you.”
Dean gazes at the little boy who, despite being adopted, looks so much like his father it's uncanny. Jack slowly steps out of his hideout as he realizes that Dean is not some random stranger but indeed the man he called for help the other day and his hesitant excitement might be the cutest thing Dean has ever seen.
Before he even knows it he forcefully pushes the stunned surprise freezing him on the spot aside and instead kneels down to be at eye level with Jack. “Hey, buddy,” he says softly. “It's nice to put a face to your voice.”
Jack grins back, a bit crooked. “Hi, Dean. Thank you for saving my dad.”
“You are the one who did that,” Dean corrects him. “Without you things might have turned out quite differently.”
Jack flushes and sheepishly presses his face into his father's pant leg to hide.
While Dean's heart soars at the sight.
So before he might do something stupid like offering to sign some adoption papers he looks up again, right back at Castiel who has been watching their interaction with a gentle expression on his face.
“How have you been?” Dean asks. “They didn't tell me much at the hospital, only that you'd be alright eventually.”
“I suffered from a very unpleasant concussion and some nasty bruises,” Castiel explains. “But all in all I was lucky. At least that's what the doctors told me, over and over. I myself didn't think myself so lucky the first couple of days, especially with a hyperactive four-year-old who checked every five minutes if I was still breathing.”
It sounds like Castiel isn't blaming Jack, though. After all, the poor little fella went through some trauma and being anxious and all over the place after that surely isn't uncommon. Dean is just glad to see him smiling so carefree again.
“We brought you some pie,” Jack suddenly announces giddily while impatiently tugging at his dad's pants. “You said you love pie, right?”
Dean feels something churning in his chest at the fact that he remembers that little exchange. “Pie is my absolute favorite.”
Castiel looks quite pleased with that information as he gestures at one of the seats in the waiting area where he put down a large box. A box with a very familiar logo.
“Well, that's good to know because we got you a big one,” he says. “It's from a bakery next door, I heard their products are very good. I originally intended to bake a pie myself, but unfortunately I didn't feel up to it yet.”
For a moment Dean just gapes at him.
Here the man is, looking all apologetic that he isn't recovered enough yet to tackle making an entire pie, while Dean feels utterly undeserving of all the attention. After all, he just did his job.
“Dude, that isn't necessary, really –”
“But it is,” Castiel cuts in. “You helped Jack through this. I can't thank you enough for that.”
Dean feels his cheeks heating up and hastily ducks his head. Unfortunately, that brings him right in Jack's line of sight and the kid starts to beam at Dean's reaction.
“You wanna come with us?” Jack wonders excitedly. “Daddy and I are gonna eat burgers …”
Dean arches his brows in surprise at the offer and glances at Castiel. Who looks just as taken aback as Dean, it appears. It's more than obvious that father and son hadn't discussed any dinner invitations beforehand and a light blush shows up on his cheeks at the boy's brazenness.
“ … um, just a little dinner down the street,” Castiel clarifies, pointing vaguely in some direction. “They make amazing burgers.”
Dean slowly stands up again and tries not to be too mesmerized by Castiel's flush.
“I'm sorry, this is probably highly inappropriate or something, right?” Castiel whispers, leaning a bit closer for Jack not to overhear. “It's just – Jack has been talking about you nonstop for the last few weeks – and I guess he got a bit overly excited finally meeting you –”
Dean looks back down at Jack and a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“Amazing burgers, huh?” he wonders in amusement.
“Yeah, you wanna come with?” Jack begins to bounce up and down, clearly more than keen on Dean accompanying them.
And Dean …
Well, it sounds tempting. Very tempting, actually.
And as he gazes at Castiel and Jack, the former still flustered and the latter quite expectant, Dean can't think of a single reason to refuse.
“I'd love to,” he says genuinely.
Jack beams so hard he's rivaling the sun itself and Castiel gapes at Dean in surprise. He looks rather pleased about the answer too, though, so Dean grins widely at him.
“But you're lucky, guys,” Dean states. “My shift just ended.”
“Oh, we know,” Castiel tells him. “I called yesterday to ask what would be the best time to drop the pie off. The man I talked with told me to come around at this time and to wait down here after notifying the receptionist.”
Dean can't help recalling Benny's wicked grin and it all makes sense now.
“Was the guy's name Lafitte by any chance?”
Castiel tilts his head in thought. “Yes, I think it was.”
Benny.
The next time he'll see the guy Dean's gonna smack him over the head and then pull him into a tight and highly grateful hug.
“So, yeah,” Dean says, shooting Castiel a bashful smile. “Let's go then. I'm starving, to be honest.”
Castiel seems like these are the greatest news he's ever received and Jack releases a happy yelp as he takes Dean's hand into his, already dragging him towards the exit.
While Dean gladly follows and finds himself thinking that he might have actually won the jackpot.