carrieosity:

”This is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here.”

(Uh, I better figure out how to make these shorter…I’m a bit verbose.)

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“Dean?” The knock at his bedroom door sounded terrified, if that was possible; the voice tentatively saying his name definitely carried more than a little fear, along with trembling anxiety. Dean didn’t say anything, and not just because speaking moved muscles that didn’t like being moved.

The door creaked open a sliver, letting a wedge of lamplight from the hall spill onto the floor of his darkened room. Charlie poked her head through the crack, backlighting throwing her face into shadow. He didn’t need light to know that her eyes were enormously wide, full of guilt. When she saw him sitting up against his headboard, she gulped, almost audibly, before opening the door the rest of the way and stepping inside. Her hands were gripping a wide, flat box in front of her, like a shield.

The way he ought to have gripped his own, really.

“So, this is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here,” she said, trying for a light tone. It failed miserably.

He sighed, waving for her to sit down. She dropped onto the foot of the bed, shoulders high with tension. “Can’t really…” he gestured toward the box, then toward his face. “But thanks.”

“Is it really that bad? I can’t see, what with the lights off,” she said, a nervous laugh trying to escape. Dean huffed, then reached over to the lamp on his bedside table. When he clicked it on, Charlie sucked in a breath. He knew exactly what she was seeing: his nose was swollen enormously, bloodied across the bridge, and both his eyes were blackened as though he had gone several rounds with Mike Tyson.

“Oh, Dean,” Charlie whimpered. It was the sympathetic, guilty tears in her eyes, almost ready to spill, that finally made him shake his head and gesture for her to come closer and curl under his arm.

“Not your fault, your highness,” he grumbled. “I should have known better than to underestimate you on the field of combat. I dropped my shield, going for the win, and I deserved what I got.”

“No, but it was an accident!” Charlie protested. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty badass with a blade, but I was just lifting it to go for a downward strike–I wasn’t trying to catch you in the face with the pommel, I swear!” The LARP blades they’d been using for their mock fight had been mostly foam and lightweight PVC, but the pommel that had broken Dean’s nose was reinforced with heavier materials.

“Accidents happen. I’ll heal,” Dean reassured her. It was true, and he couldn’t stay mad.

“But your date!” she cried. “You were only out there in the first place because of your nerves about tonight!”

And that was the rub. After almost a year of dancing around his own nerves, Dean had finally worked up the courage to ask out the gorgeous guy who’d stolen his breath when he’d first seen him in the cafeteria at work. Castiel worked in a different department, and with only lunch hours to get to know him (and be intimidated as hell by each new impressive, awesome thing he learned about him), Dean was amazed and shocked that he’d actually managed to ask Cas out for drinks, and that Cas had actually agreed.

But now…

“Yeah, probably should have just gone for a jog or something,” Dean said with a grimace, which was followed by a wince of pain.

“You know, it’s only 5:45,” Charlie said hesitantly. “You haven’t actually missed the date yet. You could still–”

“No, no way,” Dean said firmly. “I look ridiculous, and Cas is…he’s not the kind of guy who I want seeing me like this.” Castiel was always so collected and cultured; next to him, Dean felt like a clumsy doof on his best days. “I texted him and told him I was sick. Hopefully, he’ll give me a raincheck. If not…” He frowned, not wanting to think about it.

Charlie made a pained sound, and he pulled her closer. They sat quietly for a little while, ignoring the pizza. Then sounds from outside his door startled Dean out of his black thoughts. Sam was talking to somebody, and they were getting closer.

“…see what I mean,” Sam was saying. “Go on, it’s fine.” And before Dean could protest, his door was opening, and Sam was standing in the doorway, with Castiel beside him. Cas was holding a pharmacy bag, looking baffled. When his eyes fell on Dean, his eyes widened.

“Sam,” Dean groaned. Too late, Cas was crossing the floor, dropping the bag as he moved. He caught Dean’s face in his hands, tilting it from side to side.

“Yell at me later, Dean,” Sam said. “I told you to go to the ER, and you wouldn’t. You had a date planned with an actual ENT doctor anyway, and when he showed up, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean said, wincing as fingers prodded at the bruises. This was a nightmare. Charlie had crawled off the bed and was watching with mouth slightly open in surprise.

“You work in hematology, Dean. If you had a blood disorder, I’d yield to your expertise. This is mine.” Appearing satisfied for the moment, Cas let his hands slip from Dean’s cheekbones around to the sides of his face. “But I’d say that in this case, you’re probably correct. I would probably skip the pizza, however.”

“It’s an apology pizza,” Charlie mumbled. Cas turned to her, raising a brow inquisitively. “I hit him in the face with a sword.”

Cas barked a shocked laugh. “What kind?”

“Boffer longsword.”

Cas chuckled. “I didn’t know you did live-action role play, Dean. It’s been ages, but I think I still have my monk garb somewhere in the basement. Though I believe this is better treated with an ice pack than leeches.”

Dean had no idea how it happened, but somehow, he found himself wedged between his best friend and his crush, listening to them discuss costumes, battles, and festivals…and it was perfect.

Except for the awesome-smelling pizza, which he was too sore to eat. But it would keep. He snuggled into his pillow and did his best to smile.

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(@rosemoonweaver)