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“Fuck!” Dean whirled around when another demon attacked him from behind, barely avoiding a swipe from its weapon. He plunged his demon knife into its heart and twisted for good measure, before letting the limp body drop on top of the dead demon already lying at his feet.
Dean wiped the knife on his blood stained jeans - he had little hope of saving these pants at this point, shame – and looked around for Cas.
His angel was fighting two demons to his left. They were the last two and Cas was dodging their swings gracefully while wielding his own blade with an elegance born from eons of experience.
Dean couldn’t help the small, giddy smile spreading on his lips at watching the badass display from his boyfriend.
Boyfriend. They had only been together for a few weeks and Dean still couldn’t believe that he could actually call the angel that. After years of wishing and secret pining, he could actually hold Cas’ hand or kiss him whenever he wanted. Sometimes it still felt like a dream.
With one precise stab, Cas let the last demon drop and Dean’s smile widened when the angel turned to him and they made eye-contact.
“Good job, man,” Dean grinned as he strolled over and pressed a quick kiss to Cas’ lips. God, his heart still did little flips whenever he did that.
A beautiful small smile appeared on Cas’ face and Dean was so captivated by the adorable blush paining his cheeks that he almost didn’t notice the movement out of the corner of his eye until it was too late.
One more demon jumped out from behind the bar counter and raced at them with a knife glittering in its hand.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have made sure there were no more enemies left before letting his guard down, Dean silently berated himself.
Without thinking, he pushed Cas out of the way of the demon’s path, causing the angel to stumble for a moment. Dean moved a hand out to steady him and that moment of inattentiveness was enough for the demon to get around his defense and drive the knife between his lower ribs.
He sucked in a sharp breath. At the last moment he managed to conceal the pained sound as a curse. He quickly swung his own demon knife and the black-eyed bastard was dead in a second.
Dean carefully peeled his shirt back to survey the damage. The wound wasn’t as deep as he had feared and though it hurt like a bitch, he would be fine until they got to the motel room where he could stitch it up.
When he heard Cas move from half-way behind him, Dean quickly covered the wound again and pulled his jacket closed over the blood stained shirt for good measure. No reason to needlessly worry Cas. Besides, it was his own fault for not paying attention to their surroundings.
“Dean, are you alright?” Cas clasped his shoulder in worry.
The man in question plastered on a smile and turned towards his boyfriend with a smirk. “Yep, all peachy. Sorry I didn’t see him earlier.”
Cas shook his head and his lips quirked up just barely in what was his version of a fond smile. “I should have been paying attention as well.” He scrutinized Dean again with a critical look and the man had to force himself not to fidget. “Are you sure that you are okay? You look pale.”
The angel raised his hand to Dean’s forehead in what was probably a gesture to check him for injuries. Dean swatted his hand away. “I’m fine, Cas. Quit worrying.”
At the dejected look in the blue eyes, Dean sighed and took his hand to lead him towards the door to leave the massacre for the local authorities to deal with. “Sorry, sunshine, but you need to save your powers. I promise I’m fine.”
Cas examined him with one more intense look before he nodded.
As they left the crime scene, Dean made sure not to show any signs of pain as he walked next to the angel.
That evening when they returned to the motel room, Dean quickly excused himself to take a shower. He snuck the first-aid kit into the bathroom while Cas was occupied choosing a book to read for the night from his duffle.
Locked in the bathroom, Dean finally let the cheerful mask slip and grimaced in pain as he peeled his shirt away from the wound. Blood had dried on his skin and the edges of the wound had begun to crust over while the center was still wet and oozing clear liquid. Dean scrunched his nose at the sight.
Earlier, when they had returned from the fight at the old bar, he hadn’t had the chance to clean the wound properly. He had barely had time to clean the most general amount of blood away and change into a fresh shirt and pants before Cas had asked him if he wanted to get dinner.
Ever since the angel’s powers had started failing more and more, he was occasionally able to taste around the molecules and enjoy food, even though he didn’t need it. Dean had long since made it his personal mission to teach Cas about the joys of different foods.
Dean took a deep breath and held it as he stepped into the steaming shower. He bit his lip hard to keep from grunting in pain as the hot water touched the stab wound. As carefully as he could, he cleaned it and then the rest of his body. He stitched up the wound while still in the shower to wash away any excess blood that welled up.
When he was finally finished in the bathroom more than half an hour had passed. He hoped Cas wouldn’t comment on his unusually long shower.
He made sure to put on a black shirt to sleep in before exiting the small tiled room.
He had worried about sneaking the first-aid kit back into his duffle, but when he hesitantly stepped into the main room Cas was leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed and his breathing deep and regular.
Dean’s heart melted at the sight. He would never tire of seeing Cas this peaceful. All the tension was gone from his angel’s frame, hard lines becoming soft and his face was relaxed and open.
Despite that, however, he couldn’t push back a pinch of worry. Cas shouldn’t have been weak enough to need sleep. If he was passed out this quickly his powers must have been lower than Dean thought.
He was suddenly glad he hadn’t asked Cas to heal the wound.
After quietly stashing the medical supplies where he had found them, Dean lifted the cover to join Cas in bed. When he shifted into place next to the angel, glad that he was on the right side of the bed to keep pressure off the wound, Cas suddenly blinked his eyes open.
“Hello, Dean.”
The hunter grunted in surprise. “Uh, sorry. Did I wake you?”
Cas cocked his head questioningly. “Why would you wake me? I was meditating.”
“Oh,” Dean swallowed the relief that unsolicited bubbled up inside him. “Never mind, then.”
Cas looked at him searchingly for a moment longer before he was distracted and his gaze fell upon Dean’s lips. The green eyed man smirked, but before he could voice the witty remark on the tip of his tongue Cas suddenly frowned and brushed a thumb over Dean’s lip.
“You’re bleeding,” he said somberly.
Dean resisted the urge to touch his lip himself and licked at it instead. He could taste copper from a small cup from where he must have bitten it too hard.
“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” he laughed stiffly. “I bit my lip while brushing my teeth.”
Cas seemed to accept that response, ‘cause he didn’t ask any further. He just kissed the split lip gently and settled next to Dean with his book. “Good night, Dean.”
Dean swallowed before answering. “Night, Cas.”
Dean opened the fridge and got out a beer. He opened it, but instead of drinking he just pressed the cool glass against his temple. It relieved the headache that had been bothering him for the past day momentarily.
With a sigh Dean leaned against the kitchen counter and took a sip of the beer before returning the bottle to his forehead.
Cas and he had returned to the bunker three days ago. When Dean had woken at the motel the wound had been feeling tender and itchy. He had been incredibly glad that the drive back to the bunker hadn’t been more than three hours.
Sitting in the car under Cas attentive eye while trying not to wince every time he moved in the oppressive Kansas summer heat that had settled over the car had been stressing him out to no end. Once they had been back in the bunker it had been easier to avoid the angel’s constant attention.
The uncomfortable feeling in his side had only worsened since then. Dean was pretty sure the wound was infected.
Still, that was no reason to bother Cas. He’d had infections before. Lots of Aspirin, clean bandages every few hours and some expired antibiotics he’d found lying around and he’d be good as new in a few days. Until then all he needed to do was avoid Cas’ overprotective worry.
Dean was just taking another sip of the beer when his brother entered the kitchen with a frown pinched on his face.
“Dude, what is going on with you?”
Dean just raised a questioning eyebrow and took another sip.
Sam rolled his eyes and came to a stop in front of him with his arms crossed. “Why the hell is Cas coming to me asking if you’re okay?”
“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered into his bottle.
“Cas told me you’ve been acting weird. Actually, he told me in way too much detail. I don’t need to know how exactly your prudery has changed around him,” Sam shuttered for a moment and Dean felt his face grow hot when he imagined what Cas might have told his little brother. “And he said you’ve had a fever this morning.”
Dean almost choked on his beer. “Dude, what?! Has he been taking my temperature in my sleep?!”
Sam just gave him an unimpressed look. “He’s worried about you, Dean. He says you’ve been avoiding him.”
Dean swallowed uncomfortably. He hadn’t thought he’d been that transparent. Sure, he had found a lot of stuff to keep himself busy around the bunker, but he’d tried to not make it look like he was hiding from Cas – even though that was exactly what he’d been doing.
He picked at the corner of the label on his bottle. “It’s nothing, Sam. Just leave it alone.”
“Oh no,” suddenly Sam was right in his face, “we are not doing this again. I’ve suffered long enough through you two being unable to just talk to each other. I don’t care how emotionally stunted you are, I’m not going through that again!”
To emphasize his point, Sam jabbed Dean in the chest with an accusatory finger. Dean tried to move away from his brother and as a result the finger hit him a little lower than anticipated and pinched him only an inch above the inflamed skin he was hiding under his shirt.
Dean instinctively drew in a sharp hiss and flinched back.
Sam froze with his finger still raised between them. “Dean?”
“I’m fine.” Dean tried to weasel past his brother and escape the kitchen, but Sam caught his arm before he could move away.
“Dean, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Dean tried to wrench his arm free, but Sam just narrowed his eyes suspiciously and despite Dean’s protest he couldn’t stop his brother from lifting his shirt a few inches and exposing the injury.
Sam drew in a gasp. “Dean! Have you been hiding this?!”
Dean hurried to pull his shirt back down and finally got his arm free.
“Don’t worry about it,” he growled. “It’s nothing.”
“That's not nothing!” Sam argued. “That wound is infected.”
“So what?” Dean snapped, suddenly angry. “I can deal with this on my own. Leave it alone, Sam.”
His brother inspected him skeptically for a few seconds. “That's why you’ve been avoiding Cas. You’re hiding this from him, aren't you? What is this, some stupid complex that you somehow don't deserve his help? He could heal you in a second.”
“Cas is still weakened. He needs to focus on recovering, not wasting his energy on wounds that will heal by themselves.”
“Dean, your wound is infected. And besides, Cas has been regaining his strength lately.”
“Yeah, well, but he still isn't fine yet. I'm not gonna be responsible for resetting his progress just because I was stupid enough to get myself stabbed.”
Sam threw his hands up in frustration. “You know what, screw this. I'm just gonna tell Cas myself.”
“Don't you dare,” Dean growled with a step forward. “Do not tell him!”
“Tell me what?”
Both Winchester brothers whirled around to where Cas was standing in the entry to the kitchen.
“Uhm,…”
Before Dean could come up with a response, Sam said, “Dean is hurt and he's been hiding it.”
“Sam!” Dean stared at this brother in fury, but Sam looked unapologetic.
“Dean?” Cas questioned as he stepped closer. “Where are you hurt?”
“Show him,” Sam urged.
Under Cas intense worried gaze Dean couldn't refuse for long. With an annoyed groan and without meeting the angel’s eyes, he pulled up his shirt to reveal the wound. Cas stepped closer with wide eyes and held a hand out like he wanted to touch but thought better of it.
Dean could see the blue eyes scrunch together in confusion for a moment before he asked, “Is that from the demon case?”
Dean grunted in affirmation.
“Why didn't you tell me, Dean? I could have healed you.”
“There is no need for you to waste what little juice you have on healing me.”
“Healing you is not ‘a waste of my juice’,” Cas said seriously, “And that injury looks very bad.”
“It’s no big deal. I don’t need your help,” Dean said roughly as he yanked his shirt back down to cover the wound.
For a moment a look of hurt flashed over Cas’ face and Dean regretted his harsh words. Before he could say something, however, Cas said quietly, “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. But you should know that healing an injury like that doesn’t take much grace at all. If you let it worsen into a systemic infection, however, and require my assistance, it will take a lot more out of me.”
Without waiting for a response Cas made eye-contact one more time before leaving the kitchen.
Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Dean his bitch face. Dean shot back a fiery look of his own and quickly hurried after his boyfriend. “Cas, wait!”
He caught up to him in front of their newly shared bedroom. In quiet agreement they went inside and closed the door before they started talking. “Cas, you know I didn’t mean it like that, right? You’ve only just started to get your mojo back; I didn’t want to make you waste it on me.”
Cas looked at him quietly for a moment, his eyes guarded. “Healing you is not a chore, Dean. I hate seeing you in pain as much as you dislike seeing Sam or me in physical discomfort.” The angel averted his eyes for a moment. “And I must confess that it hurts to learn you didn’t trust me enough to tell me when you were injured.”
Dean swallowed. “No, Cas, sweetheart… That’s not it!” Dean waited until Cas was looking at him again before taking his hand and continuing. “I trust you. More than anyone else. And I should have told you. I just didn’t want you to worry and insist on healing me.”
“I told you healing a human’s wounds is easy.”
“I…I know. I should have talked to you. I’m sorry.”
Cas studied him with that soul-deep gaze for a moment longer, then he nodded. “Will you allow me to heal you now, Dean?"
Dean bit his lip. He hesitated for a moment, then he nodded.
Cas stepped forward. He gently lifted Dean’s shirt and studied the wound with a frown for a moment. Then he laid a gentle hand over it and Dean tensed, but instead of pain, warmth filled him as Cas kissed his forehead and the wound slowly closed under his hand.
Dean let out a silent breath of relief when the lingering pain finally faded.
When Cas pulled back there was a small but gentle smile on his lips. “Being allowed to heal you brings me great joy, Dean,” he mumbled quietly.
Dean leaned further into his angel. He swallowed. “M’sorry, Cas. I promise I’ll tell you if I get hurt again. I just… I just want you to also take care of yourself. Only do this when you have the grace to spare.”
“I will always take your pain away if you will let me. Until the day when I guide your soul to heaven.”
Dean closed his eyes and forced himself to accept the words despite the protest burning in the back of his throat. What had he ever done to deserve the love of an angel like Castiel…