Author's Note: This is my first Destiel fic so I hope you guys like it. Mistakes are all mine and sadly, I do not own or will ever be owning any of these characters since they belong only to Eric Kripke and their other rightful owners. Reviews to me are like candy to Gabriel so please leave comments on whatever you think of this (just not to harsh please!). Anyway, enjoy!
For almost all of his life, Dean Winchester has always been one lucky son of a bitch. He's the guy who always found lost money on the street, who always won those stupid school drawings for some cheap-ass prize they mustered up the money to buy, who always seemed to find a four leaf clover just moments after he stepped outside, and who'd never heard a girl ever say no to him. Now, his baby brother Sammy may have gotten all the smart genes in the family, but at least Dean had enough good fortune that he could skid by school with mostly solid C's every year (and maybe a few D's, but his mother didn't need to know about that) and always managed to successfully pass mind-numbing classes by some miracle (that, or the teachers get too tired of his bullshit throughout the year and just pass him so they won't have to deal with him again to save their sanity).
Anyway, like he was saying, Dean was pretty freaking lucky at all hours of the day, so when his younger brother Sammy bets whoever loses the coin toss has to go down to the cellar and get Uncle Bobby's toolkit, Dean thinks he has no reason not to agree.
"Okay, call it." Sam said as he flipped the coin high in the air with all his might.
Dean cracked a smile, "Heads since that's the side of the coin where I get most of my pick-up lines from."
Sam rolled his eyes as he caught the coin effortlessly and put his palm over it, "Seriously, how am I related to you?"
The oldest Winchester brother shrugged, "I guess you finally got lucky for once." Sam scoffed but instead of replying, he just removed his hand and peeked at the coin. Dean knew his eighteen year streak of luck was threatened when he saw Sammy split into a smug grin. When Dean finally found the nerve to look down at the coin for the truth, he ultimately decided that maybe he should've picked rock, paper, scissors to determine this bet instead.
As he gazed down at the coin, he saw not the familiar head of George Washington on the quarter that was flipped but a giant freaking eagle instead, forcing him to come to terms that his kid brother had beaten him, Dean Freaking Winchester who was also known at the luckiest man on earth, in a bet that required not dorky book smarts but actual true luck.
"Sammy, I think we just stumbled into an episode of the Twilight Zone." Dean announced weakly as he somehow felt a tad bit light-headed.
Sam rolled his eyes, "And you say I'm the drama queen."
Dean steadied himself finally and glared at his brother, "Bitch."
"Jerk." His reply was effortlessly quick, more of a reflex saying than an actual thought out comeback. They had always swapped back these insulting names towards each other ever since Dean was just a kid himself (though back then, they at least had enough sense not to say them in front of their mother who would heavily scold Dean for his vulgar language while his father would only chuckle in amusement) and over the years, the words had gradually became less malicious and instead had a more affectionate ring to them.
Dean stood there for a moment with reluctance in his stance and finally Sam just sighed exhaustedly, "Can you please hurry up already? You know Uncle Bobby won't feed us until we get Rufus' old car fixed."
"Sammy, I'm a little busy having a mid-life crisis right now. I think you could wait to eat your rabbit food later."
"You mean existential crisis."
Dean stared at him with a confused look on his face until he finally said, "I see your lips moving but all I hear is little bitch."
Sam gave him an unamused expression that read as 'Really?' but still went on to explain, "Dean, you couldn't possibly have a mid-life crisis since you're still only in high school. But you could have an existential crisis, meaning that you are at a stage of development at which you question the very foundations of your life."
Dean rolled his eyes and snorted, though he was strangely proud that his brother, who was a whole four years younger than him, knew more vocabulary than anyone Dean has ever met, "Wow, you have no idea how much of a nerd you just sounded like."
Sam gave him a wry smile, "Good thing I always have you to remind me then, huh?" Dean grinned wildly at him before moving his gaze to the dark and eerie dungeon known as Robert Singer's cellar that is likely one of the most creepiest places ever known at their dead end town of Lawrence, Kansas, and his smile dropped as his nose started to crinkle in disgust.
Around this town, everybody knew everybody so you usually didn't get away with anything. Even with Dean's exceptional kismet, he usually got busted for doing something mischievous and soon ratted out to his parents. So every time something gets broken or vandalized (maybe spray painting 'Sam Winchester wears make-up' or 'Metallica Rocks' isn't the most subtle thing to put when you're Dean Winchester), he always gets blamed and is either forced into public humiliation by his parents to teach him a lesson or grounded for three weeks from ever driving his precious baby ("But, Mom, she needs regular exercise or she'll quit running." "Dean, it's a car, not a dog!").
Dean sighed heavily and reluctantly went down the squishy and molded steps down to the dark room and fumbled for the familiar crusted light switch. He found it soon after and thankfully didn't get bitten by a poisonous spider like Sam had years ago (he cried like a baby FYI, but he was only seven at the time so…). He flipped it on and instantly spotted the bright red toolbox Bobby had mistakenly left down there last week when he was trying to repair the hole in the ceiling that the mice had chewed out. "Jackpot." Dean mumbled to himself as he quickly swiped the toolkit and made his way up the stairs, flipping the lights off as he passed by.
Looking back, this was probably where everything started to go wrong. Dean was already half way up the stairs as he briefly took his eyes off of the ground to look through the toolbox to see if it still had the loaded mousetrap he had set up to get Bobby when Dean's own hand suddenly got clamped down in it. He was so startled by the snapping noise and the immense pain in his right hand that he slipped on a suspicious liquid that was located on one of the final steps and started to fall backwards.
All he remembers is hearing Sam yell out his name and thinking how he was going to kick Bobby's ass for being a spiteful bastard and resetting the trap for someone else to fall prey to the stupid trap Dean had set up himself for some petty prank.
After that, he saw a bright blast of light and everything around him suddenly going pure white.
He doesn't remember much after he passed out. All he recalls is seeing nothing but pure shining white everywhere around him. But the strange part of it was that he didn't feel afraid. At all, actually. He just remembers feeling…different.
Enchanted. Weightless. Purified. Fearless. You know, all of those adjectives chicks always put into those stupid fanfictions when two characters from a certain fandom gaze at each other for the first time and instantly feel that "connection" (not that he reads any of that trash of course….okay, maybe a little but that's only because the Avengers are badass and he will sock anybody in the jaw without a second thought if they say differently).
It honestly felt like he was flying almost. Like someone with wings swooped him up and started jetting through the sky, protecting him from any upcoming danger like some total mysterious badass. And let him just say how freaking awesome it was. Hey, Dean thought drowsily as his head continued to spin around and around, I could get used to this…
It really felt as though he was only there for just a few seconds; too early for his taste if he does say so himself. But one moment he was being carried through the air in a strong dependable embrace, and the next he was falling alone to his death. Dean tried to scream but it felt like someone had taken a remote control and put him on mute. Sure, he could feel himself screaming but all he could hear is dead silence, and that only made him scream harder.
He only stopped trying when he heard the most angelic voice ever heard. It was raw and gravelly, and it made Dean's heart leap out of his broad chest. The tone of the voice was gentle and melodic but it still had enough power to send electrical currents through his body. It was sort of comforting yet strangely haunting at the same time as it rung throughout his eardrums:
"I've got one friend
Laying across from me
I did not choose him
He did not choose me
We have no chance
Laying in hospitals
Joy and misery
Joy and misery
Joy and misery…"
Like he was coming back from the dead like a zombie, Dean felt himself choking for air as he sat up abruptly. The sudden brightness was extremely painful for his sensitive eyes and it took a minute for them to adjust to the highly brightened room. Once he could finally see, Dean looked around and discovered his old torn clothes he was previously wearing were replaced with a simple breezy hospital gown. He glanced around and found two IVs in his arms and a few odd machines surrounding him. It took awhile for his unsteady breath to even out but when it did, he finally came to the obvious conclusion that he was at Lawrence's pathetic excuse of a hospital where there aren't nearly enough rooms as there are patients so they normally just stuck two or three people together per tiny room with not a single thing in there except an even tinier bathroom to the side. Speaking of sharing rooms…
It only took him a few seconds to finally look straight ahead to see a frail boy with sickly pale skin humming to himself the tune Dean had heard previously during his mid-fall. The boy's wide eyes were glued to the chessboard that was sitting in his lap and it only took a second for him to realize he was being watched as he finally looked up to meet Dean's green eyed gaze. He looked no more than sixteen and despite his ill appearance, the boy was honestly one of the most attractive males Dean has ever seen (that title goes to Robert Downey Jr., though that is a hard expectation to beat) and Dean had trouble forming word as he stared into his pure ocean blue eyes.
After what seemed like an eternity of just staring at each other like complete imbeciles, a corner of the boy's mouth lifted into a half smile and it almost took Dean's breath away, "It's extremely pleasant to see you're finally awake, Mr. Winchester. You have been out for quite awhile." Dean had so many questions running through his mind but it was as though someone had stolen his voice box so he just nodded numbly like an idiot. But just as Dean's mere acknowledgement of the boy's statement, his puny excuse of a smile split into a full blown grin as his magnificent gaze shifted downward to the chessboard, "Would you fancy a game of chess with me, Dean?"
Yet another Author's Note: So I may not be able to update this as often as I would like to since my entire focus is on my other Supernatural fanfiction (that I haven't updated due to personal reasons that I will explain once I update the newest chapter on it) that you can find on my profile, but possibly (and by possibly, I mean definitely) some feedback might speed up my chapter updates. And before I forget, those lyrics I put in there are most definitely not mine and belong to the song "Hospital Beds" by the most amazing band ever known as Florence + The Machine (who you should totally listen to because they're awesome!). But anyway, until next time!