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If there was anything Dean Winchester should have known by now, it was that he really didn't have the best of luck. Ever.
Which is why it really shouldn't have surprised him that a simple, one man hunting trip turned out to be more problematic than he had anticipated. He should have known that a simple exorcism never goes smoothly.
Dean had assumed it would be a quick hunt. Neat. Efficient. But of course Dean had assumed wrong. He really should have expected that shit would end up going sideways on him at some point. Because when had shit ever not hit the proverbial fan? Oh, that’s right. Never.
The demon had been working with a partner, who had happened to take the form of an innocent little girl. Dean was just finishing exorcising the demon he’d caught when she’d come out of hiding. He’d been so blinded by the vessel she’d decided to take that he didn’t realize how suspicious her being there in the first place actually was. The demon had played on his soft spot for kids perfectly. And Dean had gotten a spare piece of pipe impaled through his shoulder by a five year old wearing pink pajamas.
Dean had finished the job, just barely having the energy to drop the little girl off at her home, safe and sound. But now instead of driving home in the comfort of the Impala having sustained minor injuries,a bruise here, maybe a cut or two there, and being just a little worn out, as he’d intended, he was nearly bleeding out in the driver's seat, fading fast. And making an absolute mess of his precious baby's interior.
It was a miracle he even made it back to the bunker in one piece really. The hunt hadn’t been far, but he had been struggling to keep consciousness the entire drive home, and was still struggling to stay awake even now. Dean pulled into his usual parking space, killing the engine and opening the door to get out. He leant against the frame of his car for a moment, a wave of dizziness coming over him. He must’ve lost a crap ton of blood by now.He could feel it gushing out of the wound, cascading over his chest and down his back sickeningly. Dean grunted in pain, staggering away from the Impala and getting into the bunker as quickly as his body would allow.
Once inside, Dean headed straight down the hallway with the bedrooms, blearily making his way to his room. He reached for the door knob, fumbling with it for a moment with shaky hands. When the door finally opened he staggered through. Only this wasn’t his room, it was Cas’s. Cas was asleep in his bed, sheets halfway down his body, his bare chest exposed, rising and falling softly as he breathed. His usually somewhat messy hair was absolutely wild, and he let out tiny almost imperceptible snores. Dean's hearing was exceptional from having hunted for so long, otherwise he probably wouldn't have heard them.
Dean shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but immediately stopped when it made him feel like he’d fall over. He was about to turn around to leave when he coughed, and blood coated his bottom lip. Cas looked so peaceful Dean almost felt guilty having to wake him like this, but he was also starting to see black spots so he figured maybe he could feel guilty later, when his life wasn't at stake. He was kidding himself for having thought he could take care of this with no help.
He stumbled towards the bed, managing to close the door behind him so as not to wake Sam, and nudged Cas's shoulder gently.
"Cas." He said, shaking the ex-angel a bit. Cas scrunched his nose up in annoyance and shifted over onto his side, grumbling something along the lines of five more minutes. Dean shook him a little harder, desperation starting to kick in.
"Cas c'mon, man, wake up." He said, wincing at the steadily increasing pain in his shoulder, and the blood dripping everywhere.
Cas jumped suddenly as Dean spoke, eyes snapping open as he jolted awake. He rolled back over to face Dean, eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowing in confusion seeing him standing there.
"Dean? Why are you in my room?"
Dean was about to answer when he swayed slightly, eyes squeezing shut at the pain. He nearly fell over, but then Cas was there, one arm at his waist and the other around his back, catching him.
"Dean? What happened? Why is there so much blood?" He asked, his usual monotonous voice frantic with worry and confusion.
"Right shoulder..stabbed with a pipe." Dean gritted out, eyelids drooping with exhaustion.
He felt himself being moved somewhere, and leant into Cas, stumbling in the direction he was being led. He blearily recognized the bathroom adjacent to Cas’s room as he was lowered to sit on the toilet lid. And then his entire field of vision was filled with blue, the deepest blue Dean thought he had ever seen, and Cas was saying something, something probably important.
"-ean. Dean. Stay with me, do you hear me? You've got to stay awake, ok? Say ok if you can hear me." Cas said, and Dean registered the fact that he no longer had a shirt on.
"..ok..." He said weakly, wondering when that had happened. Cas dragged a first aid kit out from under his sink and opened it up, shuffling through its contents until he found what he needed, glancing back up at Dean's face with a conflicted expression.
"Dean, this is going to hurt. A lot." He said, and before Dean could process what was going on, Cas was pouring peroxide on the hole in his shoulder.
Dean cried out in pain, jolting forward and unthinkingly grabbing Cas’s shoulder in a vicelike grip. After a moment the pain dulled and Dean settled against the back of the toilet, breathing heavily. Cas stroked the side of his face, and though it did nothing for the pain, Dean was grateful for the comfort the gesture brought. Cas moved to Dean’s side, his hand moving up the back of Dean’s neck and pulling gently. The hunter followed Cas’s direction, leaning into his chest, forehead resting against the warmth of the other man’s neck. Dean whimpered slightly at the pinching and pulling of the needle as Cas began to sew his wound shut, pressing against him more.
In what seemed like no time Cas had gotten him patched up, a neat, fresh bandage now covering the wound on his shoulder.
Cas smoothed over the bandage gently one more time before standing and washing his hands, keeping an eye on Dean in his peripherals. When he was done he toweled his hands dry, moving back in front of Dean.
He crouched down, blue eyes searching the hunter’s face as he reached up slowly, long fingers carding through Dean’s hair comfortingly. In any other situation, Dean would have recoiled away, saying something about chick flick moments. As it was, Dean’s mind was hazy from blood loss and pain, and the touch was soothing; it felt right and safe and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
“I’m going to move you now, Dean, ok?” Cas said sofly, moving his hand down to cradle the side of Dean’s face.
Dean blinked slowly, leaning into the touch before nodding slowly.
Cas grabbed Dean’s good arm, looping it around his shoulders, his other arm winding its way around Dean’s waist as he hauled the taller man up. Dean hissed in pain, as they started moving, relief and exhaustion washing over him as Cas finally lowered him onto his bed. Cas pulled the covers up over him carefully, and then turned to leave the room.
In a panic, Dean’s hand shot out, latching onto Cas’s wrist. Wide blue eyes darted from the wrist to Dean’s face, searching for the source of his friend’s distress.
“Don’t.” Dean choked out, sounding more desperate than he’d intended, and hoping Cas would get it.
“..don’t what, Dean?”
Dean closed his eyes, shoulders dropping as he let out a frustrated noise.
“Don’t make me say it, Cas, c’mon.” he said quietly, green eyes peering upwards cautiously. He looked so small in the moment, so unsure, so completely unlike himself that it made Cas’s heart clench painfully.
Don’t leave.
That’s what Dean had meant. It was written in his every movement, in his expression, in his eyes, in the way he squeezed Cas’s wrist tighter.
“Ok Dean.” Is all Cas says, lifting the covers and sliding into the bed beside the hunter.
Dean lays back down, watching Cas silently. Blue eyes study green as Cas reaches across the bed. Dean’s breath hitches for a second, but otherwise he doesn’t fight it when Cas pulls him close, instead turning onto his good side, breathing out in relief as his back presses against Cas’s bare chest. Cas’s arm winds its way around his waist, pulling them impossibly closer together, and Dean can feel himself getting more and more tired, the comfort of having someone hold him putting him at ease. He falls asleep to the feeling of Cas’s fingers tracing patterns on his hip, feeling more at peace than he had in what seems like forever.
Maybe he was luckier than he’d originally thought.