Work Text:
The only reason he got away with it was that Cas was gone, doing whatever it is that he does when he leaves for days at a time.
“It” Being an injury, he was hiding from them. It wasn't a life-threatening injury...but it was a big one.
He and Sam went out on a hunt and ended up in an old barn fighting werewolves. It was only 5v2, so the fight was looking good for them, and it was; they hunted the monsters and saved the people.
Everything went well. There were no injuries, except for the 3 huge lines that spanned across his whole thigh that he got from the werewolf, and that definitely needed to be stitched.
Sam didn't notice because there were civilians who needed to be attended to. So, Sam stayed with the survivors until the ambulance showed up, and while he was doing that, Dean was leaning on the trunk of Baby, wrapping his thigh up tightly with gauze until he could stitch back at the motel they were staying at. By the time Sam came back and opened the door to the passenger seat, Dean was already done and sitting on the driver's side.
“Is everyone good?”
“Yeah, just some small concussions and trauma for like.” Sam sighed
Dean nodded and started the Impala away from the barn.
When they got to the motel, they both stepped out of the car and toward their room, opening the door. Dean said,
“I call the shower first,” He needs to stitch up his wound as soon as possible, and doesn't feel like bleeding out while Sam takes his 50-minute shower, so he can put in his 7 different shampoos in his hair.
Sam just rolls his eyes but agrees.
So Dean brings his whole duffel bag into the bathroom because bringing in just a med kit would alert Sam immediately. He turns on the shower but doesn't step in. He takes out the med kit and takes off his jeans, and then sits on the closed toilet lid. He rolls up his boxers and slowly takes off the gauze.
The stitching only took about 25 minutes; it's not his best work if he’s being honest, but it'll do for now. He steps into the steaming shower and cleans all the blood off him, the werewolf's and his own. Cleaning himself only takes about 5 minutes, even with him being careful with his stitches.
He puts on long pajama pants and a band t-shirt. He leaves the bathroom quickly so Sam can use it. Sam doesn't notice the way Dean almost hobbles to the bed because he’s already walking toward the bathroom so he can wash off all the grim from the day.
When Dean wakes up, it's to Sam opening the door to their motel room with coffee and a bag. Sam snorts when he sees Dean’s bed head and sets both items on the table across the room,
“Got us breakfast,” Sam says as he walks to the bathroom and closes the door.
Dean sits up, his thigh throbbing with pain, and he groans. As he stands up, good leg first toward the coffee. When he steps with his other leg, his knees buckle, and he shouts, catching himself on the nightstand next to him. He quickly sits back down, panting with the pain, and he calms himself down just in time as Sam quickly opens the bathroom door,
“Dean?” he sounds a little worried.
“Just slammed my foot into something, I'm good, Sammy.” He hears Sam quickly sigh in relief and close the bathroom door again.
He doesn't even know why he’s lying, but now that he’s started, if he tells Sam now, it’s not going to look nice, so the only option is to keep lying. Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time he’s hidden wounds. Hopefully, this will heal quickly. Hiding stuff from both a noisy brother and an angel is very hard.
Now, for how he’s going to get his breakfast from the table across the room, he has an idea, a pretty embarrassing one.
He stands up on his good leg, holds onto the nightstand, and turns his body to the table. He hops on his good leg till he reaches the chair and plops down, wincing and biting his lip to keep a groan in. But all the hurt is quickly replaced once he smells the food in front of him.
Sam exits the bathroom and sits down in the chair across from Dean, seeming calm. Dean takes this as his chance, he clears his throat to get his attention and asks,
“Wanna drive back to the bunker?” Which quickly gets Sam’s attention and peering eyes, Sam opens his mouth about to say something, but Dean cuts him off. “I'm fine, I just need a few more hours of sleep, the hunt yesterday was rough...” which isn't a total lie, it was hard to sleep last night with the injury.
“If you're sure, then yeah,” Sam and Dean eat the rest of their breakfast in silence, listening to the replay of cartoons that play on Saturday mornings,
Getting to the Impala was hell; every step he took, his leg was shot with white-hot pain, but luckily, Sam was in front of him, so he just had to stay quiet. While Sam puts their duffle bad in the trunk, Dean sits in the passenger seat with a quiet groan.
The drive back was hazy, fading in and out as he took his catnap. Dean woke up when he felt the familiar turn of Baby's wheels into the bunker's garage.
When parked, Sam checked if Dean was awake, and when he saw that he was, he got out quickly and went for his duffel, then left the trunk open and left the garage to probably go back to his room.
Once Dean finally got fully conscience he realized he was in a lot of pain. Grunting Dean wasted no time and opened the door and stood up, biting his lip to ignore the pain. He used the Impala's door to help him stand up, closing the door behind him. He started to hobble to his room, purposely leaving his duffel bag in the truck because extra steps meant extra pain (and more importantly, extra chances of him ripping his already loose stitches).
Having to step down the couple of stairs that led from the garage to the map room sprang tears in his eyes as he let out a heavy breath.
By the time he got to his room, he was panting with the pain. He leaned against the door frame, smiling to himself at how he managed to do that all by himself. It reminded him of when Sam was at Stanford, and he had to hunt alone, stitching himself up, no one else to patch up his wounds, no time to stop. Except now he was doing this to himself on purpose.
He closed the door and hobbled to his bed, now grunting in pain freely. He softly sat down and maneuvered himself under the covers. Closing his eyes and blocking out the pain.
1 week later-
Okay, he could admit this was a bad idea. He had already pulled at least 6 stitches, and having to stitch it back up made it worse each time. It was also not helping the healing process.
But he had to keep appearances up, so every morning while Sam was out jogging, he would hop to the kitchen and stand for 10 minutes while he made his breakfast, and then before Sam got home, he would bring his food to the library where he would watch movies on his computer for most of the day. Even when all he wanted to do was lie in bed all day, he couldn't have Sam questioning him, so it was.
He had luck on the next four days, not a single stitch had ripped, but all good things come to an end because as he was cooking breakfast, he heard the bunker door open earlier then when Sam should be back, so he quickly finished breakfast and sat down at the table an little to force then necessary and popping a stitch, biting his lip to hold in a groan of pain and annoyance just for Cas to walk in the kitchen.
Dean quickly skills his expression and smiles at Cas.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Hey, sweetheart, you're back early.” Dean pats the seat next to him. Cas smiles back at him and walks up to Dean, using his hand to tilt Dean's chin up so he can kiss him, then he sits down next to him.
“The meeting ended earlier; Jack just wanted tips on what to do with the new angels,” Cas says as he stares at Dean.
“How's the kid doing?” Dean takes a bite of his bacon, holding a little bit out to offer to Cas, who smiles slightly and shakes his head.
“Jack is doing well, although he says he misses your cooking.” His smile fades on his face, but stays in his eyes. Dean nods, closes his eyes, and sends a quick prayer to Jack,
Food is always ready for you when you're ready to come down.
Dean opens his eyes and finds Cas staring at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.” And just then, as Dean and Cas are smiling at each other, Sam walks in, all sweaty and gross.
He heads toward the stove for breakfast, muttering a quick,
“Hey, Cas,” and when he sits down on the opposite side of them, the angel responds
“Hello Sam, how was your jog?” They go back and forth, allowing Dean to zone out and to realize that he feels blood slowly dripping down his leg, causing him to panic. Before the blood can reach the floor, Dean quickly stands, causing another 2 stitches to rip. Biting his lip, he doesn't look at either of them as he shuffles from the room while saying
“Gotta take a leak.” Not bothering to see if they respond, he makes his way to the bathroom and locks the door behind himself. He grabs the med kit from behind the mirror above the sink and sits down, blood trailing along the floor and coming down his leg a lot faster, staining his pajama pants.
He lifts his hip up so he can take his pants off and see the damage.
The three long stitched-up lines on his thigh are red and puffy, with the middle having 3 stitch's ripped open and blood coming from his thigh.
Dean sighs as he opens the mead kit, knowing that this is what an infection looks like and that he’s going to have to pour some antibiotics on it.
He grabs the needle and fancy stitching thread and starts. After about five painful minutes, he’s done and is not bleeding out anymore. His face is pale, and his breaths are heavy, but he grabs the liquid from the med-kit, bites his lips, and pours it on the stitches. Eyes growing misty as he quiets his groans of pain. And he’s done.
He sits on the toilet for a few more minutes getting his breathing under control before sliding his pants the rest of the way and slipping his shirt over his head. He carefully walks over to the shower and turns the handle all the way to hot.
When he makes it to his room with the towel around his waist, he throws his clothes in the hamper. He feels someone come up behind him and puts their hands on his waist.
“You left the room in quite a hurry,” Cas says as he kisses Dean’s neck.
“That tickles Cas.” Deflecting the question, Dean can see where this is going quickly if he doesn't stop it.
Dean makes sure the towel is secure around his waist before turning around with Cas’s arms still on his waist. He wraps his arms around Cas’s head, he tilts his face down to lightly kiss the angel.
Dean breaks the kiss, and Cas trails down his face to suck on his neck.
“Let me get changed, so we can finish our show.” Cas hums in response, stops kissing his neck, and looks at Dean.
“Do you want me to go grab the popcorn and licorice?” Dean nods, and Cas leaves the room. Dean takes this as his opportunity to quickly change. And finds a comfortable spot on their bed. Once the angle re-enters their room with the snacks in his arm, Dean has the episode on his laptop ready to go.
Cas sets the food down, “You didn't start it without me?” Dean smiles; as much as Cas pretends to hate Dr. Sexy MD, he’s just as invested in the story. Dean shakes his head and moves over to make some room for Cas, who happily lies down next to Dean after shrugging off his trench coat, shoes, and ties, until he’s just in a button-down and slacks.
Dean wolf whistles to tease Cas about the non-intentional strip down, which earns him an eye roll and a bashful smile.
After about 5 episodes, Dean's eyes start to droop. He doesn't fight it; he just snuggles on top of his boyfriend and quickly falls asleep.
Cas smiles down at him and pauses their show, so Dean and he don't miss any episodes.
The angel watches over Dean sleep for about an hour before he notices his temperature. Dean's body temperature is way hotter than it should be, and from what Cas knows, that's bad for humans.
He shakes Dean awake, who wakes up but seems to be hazy,
“Hmm?” His eyes are still closed, not moving his head where it's rested on Cas.
“Dean, do you have a fever?”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“It must be from the infection.” He snuggles closer to Cas, not aware of the angel's internal panic.
“Dean, what infection? Dean?” And he’s back asleep on Cas’s side.
If it were a fever, Cas could've healed that, but if the infection is bad enough to cause a fever, he might not have enough grace to fix this. More than worried now, Cas shakes Dean awake with a little more force, and Dean doesn't wake up. Cas tries to heal him with as much grace as he can give him while still maintaining his health himself, but the only thing that does is lower his temperature a little.
Cas softly moves Dean off him before getting off the bed and out of the room to find Sam.
He finds Sam in the library on his computer
“Sam, I think Dean’s in trouble.” Which, of course, quickly gets his attention,
“What?” Sam’s worried face looks at him as he quickly stands up.
“He feverishly said something about an infection and then passed out and won't wake up.” Cas turns around quickly, walking back to the room, not having to look back, knowing that Sam's following.
They walk to the room, hearing grunting. They start running, opening the door, and they find Dean next to a trash can with a hand around his stomach and knees on the floor as he throws up.
They quickly walk up to him, Cas running a calming hand up and down the back of his shirt that now has sweat stains. Sam crouches down next to his brother and lays a hand on the back of his neck,
“Jesus, you're burning up.” Sam and Cas cast worried looks at each other.
Once Dean stops throwing up, he quickly leans away from the trash can and passes out on Sam. They notice how pale he looks. They also notice the blood that's staining his thigh through his pants.
“Let's get him to the infirmary,” Sam says, which is a lot easier said than done. After a lot of struggling, they finally get Dean of to a bed in the infirmary, and the blood on his thigh seems to be spreading.
“Okay, let's cut off his jeans and see the damage.” Cas nods in response and grabs the medical scissors. He starts at the ankle and cuts the cloth all the way up to his upper thigh.
“Jesus Dean...”
There's blood everywhere, and the stitched-up wounds seem to be enflamed and infected, and at least 6 stitches have been popped.
“I don't understand where he got these wounds from,” Cas says grimly
“He got them on our last hunt, apparently.”
“He didn't tell you he was hurt?” Cas squints his eyes.
Sam shakes his head, “Shit,” he huffs under his breath in anger at Dean for not telling him and at himself for not noticing.
He sits down on a chair close to the bed and nervously runs his hand through his hair.
“Do you think you can heal him?” Sam looks up at Cas, keeping the hope out of his voice,
“I... Maybe if it were just an infection or just a flesh wound, but the two of them together is too much for my grace.” Cas says sadly.
Sam nods understanding, before his eyebrows furrow in thinking
“Sam, I don't think we have the resources at the bunker to handle this.” Cas’s worry dripped into his voice.
“You don't mean...”
“I do.” Cas nods solemnly
“Dean’s going to hate this.” Sam huffs a sigh.
“The hospital is the best choice we have,” Cas says firmly. And Sam nods, agreeing.
The drive to the hospital was awful; they took an extra car in the bunker. Taking Baby would have been a death wish for both of them, and they weren't going to lift Dean above their heads to get him into Cas’s truck.
The drive was in complete silence, trying to listen to any changes in Dean’s breathing, both awake occupants sweating with worry, Cas having to drive because Sam’s hands were shaking, with panic and anger clouding his head too much to drive.
It was normal for them to get hurt, obviously, but for Dean to hide it from him to the point of hospitalization was worrying, to say the least.
Why would Dean lie about this? Why would Dean hide that he was hurt? Did I make him feel like he couldn’t tell me? Why-
“Sam.”
He feels like he’s underwater, and whoever is talking to him is muffled above water. He feels like he’s drowning; he can't breathe- He can't
“Sam!”
Oh, it's Cas.
He heaves a deep breath in, feeling like a bucket of water was just thrown on him, shakes his head, and finds Cas staring at him.
“I believe you were having a panic attack.”
...
“Oh... It's been a while; usually, Dean is there to calm me down.” He turns his head to look at Dean, who is passed out in the back laying down, and takes a deep breath.
“Dean will be alright,” Cas says, trying to ease Sam, not paying attention to the waver in his own voice. Sam nods before he starts shaking his head.
“Why did he lie to me?” Sam asks quietly.
Cas shakes his head, “I don't know Sam, but it’s not on you; he didn't tell me either.” Cas’s voices going quieter on the last part of his sentence.
“Yeah, well, whatever the reason, it's probably not a good one.” Sam huffs as he turns back in his seat and rolls his eyes.
-------------------------------------------------------
The hospital was a whole ordeal; they were strangely pushy about how Sam and Cas were related to ‘Mr. Grower, Dean's 100th fake personality. But once the staff was done being suspicious of them, they gave them packets of paperwork to fill out while they took Dean to a room where they weren't allowed to follow. Which Sam could tell was visibly stressing the angel out.
Sam looked up from filling a page about Dean’s allergies to looking at Cas, who was pacing and kept stopping every few minutes to stare and squint in the direction they took Dean.
“Cas, Dean will be ok, you can sit down.” This only got a glare from the worried angel.
“What's taking them so long?” Cas asked in a hushed voice.
“Do you know how hospitals work?” Sam asked, knowing the answer, shaking his head, “Look, it's going to take a while, it was a bad injury, and they can't fix people as quickly as you can.”
The angel nods understandably before going back to pacing, which causes Sam to look up and sigh.
“Cas, how about you fill out the rest of this paperwork? Maybe it'll take your mind off things.”
“I will try.” Cas nods solemnly. He takes the paperwork from Sam, sits down, and starts reading.
Sam stands up and stretches his back, which is hurting from the uncomfortable ER chairs, and goes to the vending machine to get peanut M&Ms, his and Dean’s favorite. He opens them and eats a few, and when he turns around to head back to Castiel, he sees the angel standing up and talking to a nurse.
He rushes back just in time to hear the end of the conversation,
“Thank you for telling us,” Cas says to the friendly-looking nurse. She smiles and turns away which is when Sam asks Cas,
“What did she say?” he asks hurriedly. Cas looks to him Smiles slightly, his eyes looking tired.
“She said that he must stay overnight, but tomorrow when Dean wakes up, he can leave whenever he wants, she also said that the doctor has notes for us on how to take care of his wounds.”
Sam sighs, a weight lifting off his shoulders. He and Cas both sit down and wait until Dean is done with his surgery. Sam ends up passing out the adrenaline from the night, wearing off into deep tiredness.
Sam wakes up alone; Cas is no longer sitting next to him, and judging by the clock on the wall, he’s been asleep for a couple of hours. He drags his hands over his face, trying to wake up. He walks over to the receptionist.
“Do you know what room Mr. Grower is in?” She barely looks at him before answering the question.
“He’s in room 203.” Not waiting to go back to her work. Sam nods and thanks her quickly before making his way to Dean.
He walks down the hospital hallway, the walls and floors and the bright lights giving him a headache. The rooms all look the same, but he finally sees it ‘203’. The door is closed; he opens it slowly and quickly, not knowing what he was expecting. Dean is passed out on the bed, and Cas is sitting right next to him in an uncomfortable-looking metal chair. Cas’s gaze only glances at him before he goes back to watching over Dean.
Sam sighs, feeling better in the low-light room, and sits on the chair opposite of Dean’s bed, with the chair facing away from the door.
“He woken up yet?” Sam ask after 10 minutes of silence.
Cas tiredly nods, “Only for a couple of minutes, and he was pretty 'loopy'.” Cas says with air quotes.
Dean starts shuffling on the bed and making little grunting noises.
“Oh, he’s waking up.” Cas says staring at Dean.
“What? How can you tell?” Sam looks at a barely moving Dean, still looking dead asleep.
“He always does that before he wakes,” Cas says, vulnerable in a way he rarely is.
And like Cas says, Dean slowly opens his eyes; his gaze lands on Sam, he smiles, about to say something, then realizes there's a needle in his arm and fully wakes up. He sits up quickly, almost all the way up, but Cas puts a hand on his chest, forcing him to lie back down.
Dean takes three deep breaths before asking, “Why are we in a hospital?”
And now it’s Cas turn to be angry because before Sam can even open his mouth to say something, Cas responds with,
“Why did you get hurt on a hunt and not tell Sam or me for weeks on end?” Cas tone is cold and looking for answers, his gaze only on Dean.
“It-it wasn't that bad of an injury, I thought....” Dean looked anywhere but at the two angry faces. Cas’s eyes narrow in offence at the blatant and obvious lie, while Sam rolls his eyes and huffs out,
“Bull.”
“Why did you lie, Dean?” Cas asks again, less of a question this time. Dean mumbles something under his breath, still refusing to look at either of their faces.
“What?”
“Because I thought I could handle it!” Dean throws his arms out angrily, “I thought it would just blow over and I could do it myself and no one would know.”
“But why didn’t you tell me, Dean?” Sam asks in a sad tone, which gets Dean to look at him.
“It was just familiar...” Dean, seeing that either Cas or Sam gets what he’s trying to say, rolls his eyes. “What I mean is when I used to hunt by myself, I had to deal with this stuff all the time, and I guess I rolled into an old habit,” he shakily grins at them.
Cas shakes his head, “But why did you keep lying?”
Dean sighs, “I didn't want you guys to find out and get mad at me, but look how that turned out.” he says grumpily.
Cas sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples, “Winchesters.”
“Aw, come on, Cas, don't be like that,” Dean says, trying to dig himself out of the doghouse.
“Dean, we have got to work on your communication skills, because this cannot happen again,” Sam says. Dean sighs and reluctantly nods.
--
2 months later.
Sam is helping survivors get their stories straight with the cop so they can leave without having to talk to the police. Cas is putting stuff away in the baby's trunk, and Dean's in the front seat with two werewolf bites on his arm.
Always fucking werewolves.
They're not that bad, honestly, is what Dean tells himself as Sam gets in the passenger seat, and Cas gets in the back. An hour and 30 minutes later, they're parking back in the bunkers’ garage. Dean makes his decision, before either of them steps out of the Impala, he clears his throat, signaling their attention.
“I...um...might have gotten a couple of scratches during the werewolf fight...” Dean sighs.
“What the hell, Dean, were!?” Sam asks, looking at Dean for injuries.
Dean pulls off his flannel to reveal bleeding bite marks on his arm,
“Jesus Christ,” Cas says from the back seat.
“Don't tell me you drove with that arm for an hour and a half before telling us you were hurt!” Sam's voice is rising,
“What's the big deal? I'm working on my ‘communication skills’.” Dean does quotes with his fingers, witch cause him to wince and mutter swear words.
Cas uses his grace to heal Dean quickly, “The big Deal, Dean, is that you let us think you were fine at all and were driving with an injured arm.”
“But I did tell you guys this time,” Dean mutters. Sam looks like he’s going to throttle him. Cas might actually throttle him. Dean, feeling the animosity in the car and not wanting to be in the dog house after he just got out, relents.
“Ok, sorry, next time I get hurt, I won't hide it from you guys at all.” He rolls his eyes.
“Just try not to get hurt,” Sam says, leaving the car.
“Seems he’s incapable.” Cas snarks.
“I'll show you incapable.” Dean mumbles, and Cas rolls his eyes. Cas leaves the car and heads for their room with Dean following him. Cas sits down on their bed, and Dean closes the door behind them. Dean takes off his shoes and shucks his dirty flannel. Cas watches him throw it into the hamper.
“Dean.”
“Hmm?” Dean says, walking to their dresser to find different clothes.
“Why are you incapable of caring about yourself?” This causes Dean to stop and turn to look at the angel.
“I don't-”
“Why would you not tell me you were hurt sooner?” Cas says, narrowing his eyes at Dean and watching as his shoulders slump.
“I don't know Cas...” he sits next to Cas on their bed, “I guess my dad forgot to drill that part into me.” he leans his body into Cas's, who then leans back.
“You smell bad,” which causes Dean to chuckle
“Monster killing will do that to you,” Dean stands and picks out clothes for him and Cas to wear,
“I'm going to shower, come with me?” Dean asks, Cas’s eyes crinkle
“Always.”