Burned - Destiel

XXI

'Tell her I'm fine,' he signed back. Castiel smiled and grabbed his phone.

"All done, babe," he replied. "Oh, and she says you're a fucker and that she's coming by when school finishes," he read. Dean chuckled. He could hear her say that. It became harder and harder to open his eyes, and soon he gave up on keeping them open and closed them. He fell asleep as he heard Castiel and his father talk, feeling a pressure on his forehead before blackness consumed him.

TWO WEEKS LATER

"Alright. So, don't forget that you haven't spoken in fourteen years, Dean. Don't be upset if things don't instantly go the way you want them to."

Dean sat parallel of a dark skinned woman with shoulder-length, black curls. Her name was Billie or something, Dean hadn't really cared much about that detail. She had been assigned to help him regain his voice and practice his speech all together, since he hadn't spoken in such a long time.

He frowned, yet did as she instructed. He opened his mouth and tried to create an 'a' sound, just as she had demonstrated moments earlier. He had hoped that a flawless, clean sound would escape his mouth, but he was taken back when his throat seemed to close in, which made him start to cough.

"Easy there. It's perfectly normal the first times. Your vocal chords aren't used to the stretch and vibrations. Take your time, then we'll try it again."

Dean took a sip of his water, the cool substance soothing the strain on his throat. He took a deep breath and tried it again. Yet, the same thing happened. Being as impatient as he was, Dean sighed in frustration and looked down, angry with himself. Billy smiled at him.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" the woman asked. Dean grasped onto the notebook in front of him and twirled with the pen. He then wrote down a couple of words and handed the notebook over to her. She smiled upon reading the words.

"No, I'm not homophobic, Dean. So, a boyfriend, huh. Do you have a picture?" Even though Dean was hesitant of her interest, he was quite flattered. He reached for his phone and showed her his lock screen, which was a picture of him and Castiel, laughing in front of the willow tree at lunch. Charlie had taken the photo weeks ago, and he had fallen in love with the picture instantly. Billie watched the screen with a smile.

"That's quite the looker you got there. He must really look forward hearing you talk, right?" she said. Dean blushed at her words, accepting the notebook and writing down his response.

He helped saving money for the surgery.

"And if you could tell him one thing, actually speaking, what would that be?" she asked, almost knowingly. Dean blushed and wrote down the answer. Billie smiled. "Then that's going to be our main goal. Try to think about what you want to say at your next try."

Dean closed his eyes and visioned Castiel in his mind. He instantly felt his cheeks burn up, but ignored that. He opened his mouth again, shaping his mouth the right way. He tried to produce said 'a' sound, flinching when he felt the same strain on his voice again. But a sound did escape his mouth.

He was startled by the low sound that resonated through the room. Months earlier he had screamed one sentence at his father, but that felt different. That felt like his throat was either going to burst or rip in pieces. This merely felt uncomfortable.

"There you go! We're going to keep practicing this today until you master it, and then we're going to start with some simple words, does that sound OK to you?"

Dean just nodded, too amazed with his achievement. For the first time in almost fifteen years, he had actually made a sound.

THREE MONTHS LATER