Length: 1,144 words
Summary: Written for Spn big pretzel Outsider POV comment fic meme. Prompt: Nurse *Insert Name Here* is trying to track down next of kin of the hottie in bed number 2 after an extremely busy night in the ER.
Who would blame her for stabbing the moron in the trenchcoat who snuck up behind her and started talking about Bees?
Disclaimer: SPN is not mine.
The John Doe in bed 2 was stirring. He blinked sleepily, his long eyelashes making shadows on his cheeks. “Mmummph,” he said, the anaesthetic still affecting his speech.
Sophie was at his side quickly. She did all the regulation checks, speaking to him the whole time. Introducing herself. Asking in a soothing voice how he was feeling. Nobody should have to wake up from surgery alone.
“Do you remember your name?” She asked him. “No, don’t try to sit up.”
“D – I, uh, don’t know,” he said slowly, the slur of the drug still in his voice. He paid no attention to her instructions to lie still, weakly propping himself up on his elbows. He blinked at her confusedly. His eyes were big and green, standing out against the pale skin of his face. He was a very handsome man, even in a hospital gown.
“What year is it?” She asked, placing her hand on his shoulder and easing him back down in the bed. She put her clipboard down on the stand beside the bed, but held onto her pen, clicking it in a nervous habit she’d been trying hard to get rid of.
“You’re pretty,” he didn’t answer her question, instead staring up at her face through his lashes.
She ignored the little skip her heart gave, and asked, “Do you have anyone I can call?”
“Is S- is my brother here? He’s big.” The man gestured with his hands, like a fisherman telling a story.
Sophie hoped it was just the pain medication affecting him. He was on a high dose, and people had different reactions to it. If his memory and thought processes hadn’t become clearer in a few minutes, she would call the doctor. “I’m sorry, he’s not here,” she told him.
“Oh.” His face fell. Then he brightened again. “He’ll find me soon. My brother’s real smart,” he assured her. “You’re pretty.”
Sophie smiled at him, pretending her heart wasn’t breaking a little. She’d gone through the contacts on his phone while he was in surgery, searching for his next of kin. This number is not in service. This number is not in service.
She caught his hand as he reached up to touch her face.
Sophie jumped at the gruff voice coming from immediately behind her left shoulder. Her heart leapt into her throat. Before she could stop herself, her survival instincts took over and she swung around, jabbing out with the pen that she still held. Who could blame her, really? What kind of person snuck up behind someone who was concentrating? Especially at night! Okay, the lights were on, so it wasn’t like it was actually dark, but still. And who could sneak up like that without making any noise? Serial killers, that’s who. Serial killers and ghosts.
The pen stabbed hard at his chest. There was a crack as the plastic outer of the ballpoint broke in half, the spring pinging the pens innards across the room. The man didn’t flinch. He was wearing a trenchcoat that screamed ‘homeless person’, and simply looked at her curiously as she backed away.
“Hello,” he said, smiling widely at her. “I’ve come to heal Dean and take him to my garden to watch the bees.”
Sophie looked closely at him, taking in the wide blue eyes and the perfectly clean white scrubs he wore under the dirty trenchcoat. Oh. That explained it. “Oh, I am so sorry, I didn’t realise… I hope I didn’t hurt you. Why don’t I call someone to help you back to your room?”
“Do you like bees?” The man asked, appearing intensely interested in her answer. He didn’t seem violent, which meant he probably hadn’t escaped the secure ward, but had simply wandered up from the floor below. “Have you considered placing beehives in the courtyard? Honey has excellent healing properties.”
“Sir, what room are you meant to be in?”
There was a bee on the shoulder of his trenchcoat. Sophie watched in horrified fascination as it crawled across his collar and onto his neck. She’d never liked bees. All buzzy and stingy.
“I have to take Dean to see my bees,” the man insisted. “Bees are very relaxing. They dance to show the path to the flowers.”
Sophie glanced back down at the man in the bed. It would do him no good to be disturbed this soon after surgery. To her surprise he was grinning goofily, as though the exchange between nurse and intruder was the most entertaining thing he had seen for a long time. “Cas!” he cried, sounding overjoyed as he tried to sit up. “Cas is my best friend,” he told Sophie confidingly. “He’s a – a multidimensshi… dimensional wavelength… form… thingy…”
Sophie decided it was probably time to call the doctor. Possibly for herself.
“Do you mean it, Dean? Will you be my friend again?” The man in the trenchcoat, who may or may not have been called Cas, peered around Sophie at the man in the bed. Sophie stepped across to stand between her patient and the escapee from the psychiatric ward. He might seem harmless, but she couldn’t have him fiddling with any of the equipment surrounding ‘Dean’. A lot of damage could be done by someone with good intentions but no education.
“I missed you when you were dead, Cas,” Sophie’s patient said seriously, “Did you know you have a bee on your neck?”
Sophie paged the doctor. When he arrived she was going to recommend a psych consult.
The man in the trenchcoat stepped around Sophie. “I brought you a peace offering, Dean. I don’t like to fight.”
“Is it food?”
The psychiatric patient reached into his pocket, which Sophie noticed with a sudden rush of trepidation was moving slightly. He pulled out something small, wriggly and fluffy. It was tortoiseshell and super-cute and definitely should not be on the bed of a man recently out of surgery. What was the doctor going to say when he saw she’d let in a mental patient with a kitten? Where had he even got it from? She took deep breaths.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to take the kitten out of here.”
Neither man acknowledged her. The kitten was snuffling Dean’s chin. Sophie had to fight the urge to jump up and down and squeal at the cuteness, reminding herself that kittens of unknown origin and recently operated on patients were not a good mix.
“I’ve got nowhere to keep a kitten, Cas,” Dean was protesting, not very convincingly.
“She can stay in my garden. Sam is already there. Hold on to her.”
Sophie was never sure what happened next. She blinked and they were all gone. Two men, a bee and a kitten. Vanished into thin air.
By that afternoon she was starting to wonder if reality truly existed.