Julian Dorado

“Then no sugar–got it,” he smiled. Castiel didn’t seem to be too fond of the desserts he made, such as the cinnamon rolls Kemuel engrossed himself over in Darrington. Julian’s own sweet tooth took to chocolate and flan, perhaps even caramel, too. He kissed him back happily and sat down across from him. He didn’t eat too fast, but he didn’t eat slow, neither. Watching Castiel scarf it all down felt like a ‘badge of honor’ as far as taste went. 

“Anytime, Castiel! My food’s yours, too. I’m good at sharing,” he added in at the end, genuine and self-teasing alike. Julian winked before his first bite, then started to chip away. He did have to get up not long afterwards to pour the coffee. While he got a mug for Castiel, he got himself a thermos. It was, without a doubt, going to last him but the first few hours at his shift. The rest? Maybe another cup or two from the hospital to tide him over. “I’m putting some creamer in mine. You can take a sip to see if you want some in yours, too?” He offered, looking over Castiel’s way. He wasn’t sure if Castiel had creamer before, nor did he want to spoil the angel’s drink by adding something he didn’t like.

“I can try it.”  Castiel was not overly picky, no.  Or picky at all.  Unless, of course, his vessel was trying to warn him not to eat something; he had discovered that it was better at discerning foods than he himself was.  Perhaps some bodily instinct which clung to these borrowed bones.

It did turn out that he didn’t mind a splash of cream in his coffee; it imparted a different flavor.  And it also turned out that sending Julian off to work was not exactly a pleasure, but Castiel sent him off with a kiss nonetheless, promising to keep his phone on him and also to make grilled cheese sandwiches for when Julian came home.

He texted Castiel before he hit the road. The traffic passing the gate was often a beast at that ‘five o’clock’ hour yet, in his case, it bled into six o’clock, too. By the time he returned it was closing in to six forty and he pulled his car into the driveway. Julian got out and made his way to the path that wound into the grass towards the door.

Julian tried to make being awake a hair easier with a little smile. He’d be doing some final touches of his own before work—brushing teeth and hair, deodorant and maybe a spritz of cologne, to name a few. “All right; I’ll get breakfast started, then.” He flashed a soft smile, somewhat apologetic to wake the angel up so early, before he scaled the stairs and started to prepare some good ol’ huevos rancheros.

Would Castiel like it? He hoped so; otherwise, thankfully, the angel had other choices. Some cereal in the pantry or left overs in the fridge, maybe some toast and sausage, too, if it piqued his interest. Plenty of options were to be had at casa de Julian.

It wasn’t too long before Castiel came back downstairs, still looking somewhat sleepy, but marginally more alert than he had been.  His hair was a mess for falling asleep with it damp, and his wings were a little disordered even after he fluffed them out and gave them a shake, but at least he pressed a kiss to the back of Julian’s neck before moving to go and figure out where the coffee was.

The rest of the ingredients—sliced avocado, refried beans, pico de gallo, and such—were either cut up while the eggs cooked or pulled out from yesterday’s meal prep. He gestured with the spatula-ladened hand, “Welcome to the kitchen! I’m making huevos rancheros right now, for the two of us. I usually get home around six due to traffic, but I can text you before I leave the hospital to give you an estimate on my return.”

Julian quirked his lips for a smile and gently tousled Castiel’s hair when he stood up. “No es temprano para mí,” he playfully tutted in a sleep-rough voice. So he clicked the night stand’s lamp on and got to undressing himself. Julian didn’t make much of a show of it, much rather trying to get his clothes on more than anything.

He paused while buttoning up his shirt, bare aside from briefs and shirt. “The…? Yes! I can meet you down there. Do you want me to make you breakfast? I can leave it in the oven if you want to go back to sleep afterwards,” he said, looking over at his wings. Watching them stretch and move around never got old. He took a few steps forward to kiss the corner of his mouth and then rubbed their noses together.

The angel only grumbled back at that, a low and rough noise where he was very clearly judging every single one of Julian’s life choices, especially the ones that would declare that this somehow wasn’t too early.  But he scrubbed at his face and scrubbed through his hair before pressing a kiss to Julian’s mouth in turn and then stumbling for the bathroom so he could wash his face and brush his teeth.

It wasn’t even really light out yet.

“Ach, achoiad,” he murmured, repeating each term a few times to get it in his head. He wondered if any of the prophets knew it, in the Bible. A random thought before bed, but a thought nonetheless. Julian hummed another note and pressed his head as much as he could into his hand. The firm moment of contact was a short-lived one; he didn’t have enough energy to do more.

A good end to a good night, Julian was happy his ‘present’ arrived on the back of two silver-edged wings. He tried to return the petting but his hand kept getting heavier and heavier…In the end, he let it rest on his hip to flash a drowsy, but sweet, smile. “Buena noche, ach. Te veo en la mañana.” Then, he drifted off, warm and safe with the ocean’s waves crashing down below.

…

When morning came, it came early for Julian Dorado. He had an alarm and it rang on the nightstand beside him. The doctor held back a yawn while forcing himself up, trying to turn it off to start his early day. Yesterday was nice and, seeing Castiel still there, made today just as nice. Hopefully his shift at the hospital would be just as well, however. “Mm, Castiel,” he whispered while turning the alarm off, “lo siento. I gotta get ready for work.”

It was probably the best sleep he’d managed since Julian had left Darrington; just the presence of the demigod, the rhythm of his breathing, the closeness and scent.  Even for their struggles, Castiel associated those things with a sense of safety.

As such, he was not in any great hurry to wake up and muttered, “Es demasiado pronto,” into the pillow; since Julian was out from under his wing now, he used that wing to cover his own head up for a moment, though even with the protest, he was not really a lazy thing.

Which was it: oncology or emergency medicine? Oncology became his specialty when he knew of Rachel’s diagnosis. The field itself was ripe with cases much like hers, ranging from young children having to battle for their future and the elderly for a better, kinder, death.

Maybe it wasn’t in his cards to be an oncologist after all. A sad specialty, but one deserving of just as much attention. But my patients—? The cases were handed over during that month break; splitting the load again wasn’t impossible. Julian was bad at decisions. Either both or neither was his trend, yet that wasn’t an option nor did he want it to be.

In the end, he smiled. Julian gave a little chuckle for the bite and what it did to spike, however temporarily, his heartbeat. After the bite and nuzzle, it returned to normal. He nodded a bit and stroked his side, “Choose…I’ll use tomorrow to make up my mind.” Given the translation, he tried repeating it a few times much like Castiel had. It felt odd on his tongue; as one of the languages he didn’t know, the challenge and experience was welcomed. “If that’s demigod, then what’s angel?” He moved his calf over Castiel’s and otherwise remained on his side, about as close as he could be to drifting off.

“Ach.  Or, for Angel of the Lord, achoiad,” Castiel replied, noting the way Julian seemed to be half-drifting and slowing down his own petting to encourage it.  If the man intended to be up and out the door so ridiculously early, sleeping could only do him good now.  Especially if he was going to be spending that time debating on his own future.

He didn’t move his leg away, though he still didn’t plaster up so close to Julian that they’d be in full contact.  As much as he’d liked that warmth for the time they’d had it, that proximity, he didn’t want to tangle them up again on anything.

A good end to a good night, Julian was happy his ‘present’ arrived on the back of two silver-edged wings. He tried to return the petting but his hand kept getting heavier and heavier...In the end, he let it rest on his hip to flash a drowsy, but sweet, smile. “Buena noche, ach. Te veo en la mañana.” Then, he drifted off, warm and safe with the ocean’s waves crashing down below.

...

He listened while leaning, melting, into Castiel’s touch. Warm fingers roamed through wheat blond and the light flecks of silver that dotted his hair. Julian often forgot what he was when in the world. When, in fact, he drove to the hospital or grocery shopped or walked along the Californian shore. If he was observing, he was human. If he was interacting, touching another person? He was unnatural; not quite human, not quite ‘other’.

Julian hated how right Castiel was. Sometimes he caught himself trying a little hard on the off-chance he could dip the scales in his favor, that he could redeem himself to his family even when redemption never was needed. But, it wasn’t possible. He’d never save everyone or get his whole family’s respect, unconditional love. He’d never find that missing piece to his engagement that’d left him scrambling in therapy.

Despite his emphasis on success, proof of it, such things weren’t possible.

The doctor hummed a soft note at the conclusion and kiss. He smiled, perhaps sadly, as the advice did its job. “Aschaobza? And yeah…I can’t do too much or else it’s unnatural.” He didn’t want to let it be known what he was at work or with those around him. Wasn’t it dangerous? “I’ll keep that in mind and work on it. Not the being good, but the efforts to continue to prove it,” he explained softly. Julian adjusted himself to kiss Castiel on the lips, then nuzzled lightly into his cheek. He pressed another kiss there, then one more to the curve of his jaw. “Thank you,” he smiled into that spot tenderly. Thank you for being in my life.

“Then you should choose.”  They had talked enough in Darrington over their month together that Castiel had a much clearer picture of just what Julian’s professional obligations entailed than he had when they had been newer that Cas felt confident saying that, even as he tightened his arm over Julian and smiled some for the kissing he was getting; it felt nice.  “Either you are an oncologist or you are an emergency doctor, but you shouldn’t be trying to do both.  So, choose which you find most gratifying, most fulfilling.”

The seraph picked his head up and nuzzled all over the side of Julian’s face, something fierce and protective welling up centered under his chest, below his breastbone.  Whatever it was, it prompted him to bite, though not desperately hard, on the line of Julian’s jaw before he went back to nuzzling. “And that was Enochian for demigod,” he explained, pressing a kiss right in front of Julian’s ear, before settling back on ‘his’ side of the bed again.

Maybe it wasn’t in his cards to be an oncologist after all. A sad specialty, but one deserving of just as much attention. But my patients—? The cases were handed over during that month break; splitting the load again wasn’t impossible. Julian was bad at decisions. Either both or neither was his trend, yet that wasn’t an option nor did he want it to be.

The petting was nice as rhetorical questions came his way. If it weren’t for being someone he loved and valued, be might’ve felt guilty over working himself to the bone and then some. But love was a powerful thing—a pair of comforting arms and strong, yet true, words. Julian nodded for the obvious that, yes, he was grown and his skills had saved more lives than lost them. Treatment plans in his oncology field, too, saved many that might’ve taken to a terminal state.

Julian swayed his head, pressing it gently into his thumb and what fingers curled behind his ear. He rubbed Castiel’s chest, trying to bring a trickle of warm, spring green to dance across the skin. The last time he indulged in his hobbies or discovered a new one? Probably back in Darrington, during his month-long break from work.

He decided to answer any, rhetorical or no. “Not since Darrington. I—just bury myself in work. It’s almost easier that way, than to take time out of my day and get into my hobbies. I get a little anxious that, with free time, I could be doing more for my patients.” A doctor that needed to practice what he preached. Julian sucked in a breath with knit eyebrows, “I keep telling patients that doing hobbies and taking breaks from their work is important: why shouldn’t I do the same?” Because it was hard, leaving anxiety to fester and do worse. Hard didn’t mean impossible; only, for him, more work. Wasn’t it worth it?

“Why indeed?  They are human, aschaobza,” Castiel said, switching to the Enochian term for demigod, subconsciously – ah-es-kah-ah-oh-bah-zod-ah –  as he left his eyes closed and went back to working his hand through Julian’s hair, palm broad and sliding against that sandy hair while his fingers dipped into it.  “You can’t hold the reapers at bay forever, no matter how hard you work.  You can’t save everyone, no matter how much you burn yourself up.  And it will be a very– I suppose sad existence, if you don’t figure out how to balance it.”

Cas didn’t honestly have much room to talk; like Julian, he tended to define his entire existence on what he was able to do.  He didn’t even begin to understand the concept of being worthy of happiness or pleasure just because he was living thing.  But he didn’t tend to really measure himself – an angel, a seraph, a celestial – anything on the same level as he did the terrestrials.  And from his position, Julian’s whole life just seemed designed to dishearten the demigod; he didn’t explore his Olympian heritage, he chased the ghost of the woman he couldn’t save, or the approval of a family who seemed to not realize what a treasure he was.

Julian hated how right Castiel was. Sometimes he caught himself trying a little hard on the off-chance he could dip the scales in his favor, that he could redeem himself to his family even when redemption never was needed. But, it wasn’t possible. He’d never save everyone or get his whole family’s respect, unconditional love. He’d never find that missing piece to his engagement that’d left him scrambling in therapy.

Despite his emphasis on success, proof of it, such things weren’t possible.

Julian leaned into the touch, combing and petting alike, as Castiel talked. He wasn’t wrong; he was a demigod. However, he didn’t feel like one. He felt awfully human, aside from his clean bill of health in, well, every department. Sick? He never got sick. Fatigue? Something he rarely experienced compared to his mortal kin. Still, Castiel calling him demigod wasn’t new as much as it was ‘distant’ since their last reunion.

He closed his eyes under the kiss and moved to return it when the questions arose. Humans were interesting, their conversations on them were, too, but the pair new he wasn’t fully human. Half human yet lived like a full one. Julian bit his lip as he processed the question. It made his heart skip a beat and, thinking on it, his eyes opened a little. He looked over to his boyfriend and stroked along his chest, then collar bone and side of his neck.

“I…” he swallowed, trying to answer. “Validity, perhaps. I’m a successful doctor and surgeon, but that’s not enough for my family,” he whispered, looking at him some more as the answer revealed itself. He had no siblings, nor did he have a ‘step-dad’ in the picture. His mom and himself, plus her side of the family and cousins. Julian softened his features and tried to hide the sad glint in his eyes. “I’m drawn to the field and helping others; I love it, even though what I do might, well, never be enough.”

Castiel frowned at that; what family wouldn’t be proud to claim Julian Dorado?  Beyond his skills in medicine, he was genuine and kind.  A bit of a mess, but never in malice, and who did Castiel know who wasn’t a mess?  “You do not need to burn yourself out for validity, Julian,” the seraph said, with certainty, going back to petting with his eyebrows furrowed.  “What does it matter, though, what they think?  If they think it is not enough.  You’re a grown man, yes?”

Obviously, that was a rhetorical question.

Cas shook his head again, closing his eyes and framing his fingers around Julian’s ear to tick a thumb against his temple. “There are many people who are alive because of you and you alone.  Because of your inborn power, or because of your hard-won skill, or both.  You are enough anyway, but you have also done enough many times over already.  Anyway, this overworking business– when is the last time you went and danced?  Or played music?  Or picked up a new hobby?”

Julian swayed his head, pressing it gently into his thumb and what fingers curled behind his ear. He rubbed Castiel’s chest, trying to bring a trickle of warm, spring green to dance across the skin. The last time he indulged in jis hobbies or discovered a new one? Probably back in Darrington, during his month-long break from work.