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"Ok" Dean stepped toward the bowl held out by brother and brandished his knife.
He held his hand over the bowl, taking a deep breath before slicing over his palm. He squeezing his hand shut to force the blood to drip into the bowl until Sam mumbled something and took the bowl back. Dean pulled his hand away, quickly wrapping it in a handkerchief and applying pressure. He slumped back against Bobby's desk and sighed, watching Sam perform the rest of the dump spell. He stared into the distance as his head filled with quiet static. The steady pain in his hand keeping his attention half on the bleeding wound under the fabric.
After a while, he winced a little and looked down at his hand, seeing the blood seep through the cloth.
"Shit" he whispered.
The spell was long over now, whatever threat it was used against vanquished- Dean didn't care to remember what was happening. Not when his hand was throbbing.
Sam perked up from his laptop, following up on the spell he'd done.
"You ok?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Dean gave a nod and not much else, folding another part of the hanky over his hand and pressing a little hander, causing another wince to try escape him, but he bit it back.
He was still sitting against Bobby's desk, now staring down at his hand.
Sam's brow furrowed and he put his laptop aside "Y-you sure?" He prompted, standing and coming over "your hand bothering you?"
Dean shook his head, squeezing his palm a little harder.
Sam tilted his head and glanced down at Dean's hand, following his brother's line of focus.
"Let me see it" he offered, putting his hand out to place it under Dean's.
"No" Dean mumbled, pulling said hand away.
"Dude. Let me see it" Sam repeated, reaching to grab Dean's hand forcibly.
Dean pull away again and stormed out, rushing himself up the stairs and into the bathroom. He reached the pull the door shut, but it just hit the frame and swung back open. Regardless, Dean stopped in front of the sink, leaving the handkerchief of the counter while he switches on the water and places the still bleeding cut under it. He only had it there for a few seconds before a stinging pain beat through it and he pulled it away from the stream.
Snatching up the hanky, he began to pat the cut dry- it was still bleeding.
"Shit" he groaned.
He wrapped it back up and pressed hard as he left the bathroom, going back downstairs.
He got back downstairs, looking a little pouty. He stepped in and immediately noticed the first aid kit sitting on Bobby's desk, Bobby stood before it with his arms crossed.
"Hand bother you?" He asked.
Dean looked away and shrugged, still pouting.
"Sit down" Bobby ordered, pulling up a chair.
Dean sat down huffly and watched as Bobby got another chair to sit in front of him on.
Bobby them turned to the first aid kit and opened it up, grabbing a large fabric band aid and a pair of scissors. He turned back to Dean, gesturing wordlessly for the boy to show him the cut. Dean huffed, but did, unwrapped the hanky and showing Bobby his hand.
Bobby took a gentle hold of Dean's wrist for a moment, just to bring the hand closer- the wound was still bleeding. Bobby hovered the strip over Dean's hand, ultimately deciding his didn't need the scissors and took off the paper backing (now having a little blood of it from where it grazed the wound) and got to lining it up on Dean's hand.
Dean watched intently as Bobby covered the wound with the brown coloured plaster.
some of the sticky part made contact with the skin beside the wound while the rest was still hovering and waiting to be lower down. Dean had an expectation to be able to pull his hand away in a bit, seeing as the dressing was close to being put on. Instead, Dean's expectations were shattered and replaced with frustration as Bobby pulled the sticky part off his skin and continued to hover it around.
"Well don't take it off" Dean complained "it won't stick if you ruin it" he added, whiney.
"Well it ain't gonna do much if I don't get it on the wound, now will it?" Bobby retorted, looking up very briefly before his focus went back to putting the bandage on.
Dean winced as Bobby pushed down slightly when the dressing finally laid flush against his hand.
Bobby mumbled a sorry, but Sam rolled his eyes.
"Oh, don't be a baby" he teased, handing Dean a glass of liquor.
Dean pouted at him, but nodded subtly in a 'thank you' gesture as he took the drink, taking a little sip of it.
"All better?" Bobby asked, taunting the man in front of him.
Dean huffed, looking down at his drink as he weakly places his injured hand around it.
"Don't be such a wuss" Sam jabbed, lightly hitting his shoulder. Dean whined at the action and glared up at Sam. Sam chuckled and shook his head.
"I'm just kidding" he jested, before shrugging a little "Kinda".
Dean hesitantly took his good hand off his drink, aiming an attempted shove at his brother, who dodged it and laughed at him, before he ruffled Dean's hair and turned to make his way back to the couch.
"Bitch" Dean muttered.
"Jerk" Sam sat back down and put his computer on his lap, eyes focusing on the screen.
Bobby shook his head and stood up, beginning to pack up the first aid kit.