Chapter Text
Castiel’s POV
One moment Castiel saw the witch they were hunting and the next there was a bright green light blinding him. He lost his balance, dropping his blade in favor of reaching his hands out to try and catch his fall. Castiel was only partly successful though, a heavy wince escaping his lips. He felt something pop in his right wrist. First thing after that was he noticed how solid the dirt had become. The hunter attempted opening his eyes, green and yellow spots in his vision as he tried to blink them away.
“Dean?” Castiel called out, twisting his head around to try and find the man.
“I’m here Cas.”
Castiel turned his head to his left, squinting till he could make out the form of the man who was also on the ground. Castiel moved to stand up, finding also the ground was cold and smooth. He pushed his confusion out of the way for the moment, his hand finding his blade and then getting to his feet with a bit of a sway in order to get to Dean.
“Are you alright?” Castiel asked him, the stars in his vision starting to fade now.
“For the most part. You blinded too?” Dean wondered.
“Yes.” Castiel looked away from him and to their surroundings. But he couldn’t make out the figure of another person. The space was also dark it seemed. “I think she got away.”
“Damn,” Dean muttered beside him and Castiel heard the man start to sit up. Castiel turned to Dean though when he heard the man wince slightly.
“Are you injured?” Castiel said concerned.
“Yeah, think she clipped my left shoulder with something,” Dean reported. “And my leg- the right one.”
Castiel moved closer to his shoulder, squinting in the dark but then digging into his jackets inner pocket with his left hand for his phone. Turning on the flashlight one handed he was able to get a better look. Castiel frowned.
“It doesn’t appear to be bleeding,” Castiel noticed. “More like a burn.”
“Ah, that would explain the pain.”
Castiel looked at Dean more concerned.
“Aw, don’t give me that pouty face, it’s probably nothing an ice pack or ointment won’t solve,” Dean told him, his smile illuminated by the phones light. “What about my leg?”
Castiel moved down to look at it, but Dean then put a hand on his upper arm.
“Hey, why’re you holding your hand to your chest?”
“I think I sprained it when I tried to stop my fall,” Castiel explained.
“You injured anywhere else?”
Castiel was about to say no, but took the time to move his good hand over his body. He handed his phone to Dean to be able to follow the task.
“Woah, Cas.”
The man looked up at Dean confused, then followed the light of the flashlight to his left side. He pulled back his jacket and open flannel to see a dark patch just below his ribs. With further examination, Castiel found a slash through both layers.
“You don’t feel that?” Dean asked, now the one concerned.
“I was focused on you.” Though now that he knew about his side, he was starting to feel it.
“Of course you were, gotta focus on yourself too though dumbass,” Dean told him, though it was without heat.
Castiel rolled his eyes and then began to shrug off both layers, wincing as he slipped his sprained wrist out and then tied them both around his torso, keeping pressure on his bleeding wound.
“Alright, now yours.” Castiel took the phone back and Dean tried to move his leg into a better position. The back of Dean’s jeans were a dark shade of red, a slash like the one through Castiel’s clothes. Expect this one went vertical instead of horizontal.
“We need to get to medical equipment for yours, we can’t patch it up as we are,” Castiel told Dean.
“Awesome,” Dean huffed, but started to move. “Gonna need your help to stand though.”
“Right.” Dean held Castiel’s phone once again so that the man could steady himself into a crouched position with his good hand. When he was good, Castiel got Dean’s arm around his shoulders and slowly moved them both into a standing position. Not without a sharp inhale or gritting teeth though.
“Okay, now to find Baby.” For the first time, they shone the light away from them to their surroundings.
Castiel’s eyes widened as he took in the very familiar space of the bunkers war room.
“The fuck?” Dean voiced. “Why’re we at the bunker?” The lights were all off, so Sam and Gabriel must be in bed.
“I don’t know, but we can figure that out later,” Castiel moved on, his eyes catching Dean’s gun he must have dropped too. Leading Dean to lean against the war table, Castiel leaned down to grab it. They don’t want to make their brothers worry by finding a loose weapon around. “There’s an infirmary here, let’s wait till we’re not bleeding anymore.” He tucked the gun in the back pocket of his jeans and wedged the angel blade in his tied jackets around his torso, adding the pressure to keep his wound from bleeding further.
“Sounds good, lead the way Doctor.”
Castiel rolled his eyes, this time with a smile. He got back to his partner and supported Dean’s right side as they walked down the hallway with the phone light to guide them. Once they got to the infirmary, Dean switched on the lights allowing them to shut the phone off.
Castiel deposited Dean on one of the gurneys, immediately after going to get supplies; gauze, stitching equipment, painkillers, and ointment. He took out their weapons though, setting them onto the metal table. Coming back over, he brought over a roller-chair to sit in front of Dean. The first thing he did was shake out some of the pills, giving some to Dean and taking some for himself. They each took a swig of the alcohol to swallow the pills. Setting them aside, Castiel looked at the man in front of him.
“I’m going to stitch up yours first and then you can do mine,” Castiel states.
“Hey, no, you got an injured wrist Cas,” Dean reminds him and Castiel frowns. “I ain’t going to let you strain it anymore than you already have.”
“I can stitch one handed,” Castiel reasoned. “And before you say anything, I know that you have done that too.” Castiel looked into the man’s eyes, as if daring him to deny it, but Dean seemed to accept defeat. “Alright, either roll up your pants leg or take your jeans off.”
“So bold, you gotta buy me dinner first there handsome,” Dean grinned, but was already starting to unbuckle his belt.
“I’ve done so much more than buy you dinner, Dean,” Castiel reminds him, getting the alcohol and cloth ready. He soaked one piece of cloth and slide it between his skin and make-shift bandage, wincing at the slight sting.
“Yeah yeah, but it doesn’t hurt to be chivalrous, now does it?”
Castiel looked back at Dean to see the hunter got the belt from the loops and buttons undone. “Then I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow, once we stop bleeding over everything.”
Castiel assisted in the final tug of Dean’s jeans and directed Dean to be on his stomach so he could reach the back of his leg easily. “This is going to sting,” Castiel warns, pouring alcohol on a cloth and then cleaning off the dried and weeping blood. He tried to ignore the sharp inhale Dean took and focus on the task at hand. Castiel did his best to be thorough and fast, but his eyes wandered over to his left every once in a while.
“You checkin’ out my ass there, Angel?” Dean voiced.
Castiel could hear the grin in the man’s voice. “As a matter of fact, yes. It’s your fault for wearing tight boxers.”
Castiel saw Dean twist his head to look back at him. “Nah, think it’s just that I got a perky behind.” This time Castiel could see the smirk and the man just smiled amused.
“Be quiet Dean, this is serious.”
Threading the needle was a bit difficult, but once he got it, Castiel was quick to get the stitching part done. He had to dab at fresh blood as he closed up the wound, but as he got closer to being done, the blood lessened to a thin line between the closed skin. After he set down the needle and got the gauze, wrapping it around the leg till all of the cut was covered. He patted Dean’s ankle to signal he was done.
“Okay, you’re turn,” Dean says, sitting up.
Castiel gave no fuss, knowing the angle would be awkward and he’d have to use his injured hand for the side. He untied his ruined clothes and then got his dark green t-shirt over his head, putting it to the side. Looking at Dean, Castiel can see the man now has his serious face on since he’s the one in the caretaker position.
Dean removed the cloth that Castiel had continued holding to his side and got a fresh alcohol soaked piece to further clean it. Castiel sat up still, keeping his arm away from Dean’s work. They stayed quiet, just listening to each others breathing and the small sounds from the needle.
Castiel then felt the touch to his side, looked down to see it’s been wrapped in gauze.
“What’s left?” He asks.
“I gotta get some ointment on my shoulder and then wrap it up,” Dean tells him. “You go look for a wrist brace in the drawers. Pretty sure we’ve got a few.”
Castiel nodded, standing up though slowly to not strain his stitches already. It didn’t take too long to find the braces, picking one that was black with clips to secure it. Fastening it onto his hand, it kept it in place nicely. When he turned back to Dean, the man was wrapping up the wound on his shoulder. Castiel looked around the drawers a bit more, but he couldn’t find the soft and loose clothes they kept there.
“Well looks like the temporary clothes are in the wash,” Castiel announced, walking back over to Dean.
“Well at least it’s night or else our brothers would get an eye full,” Dean chuckled.
“We don’t need to traumatize Sam anymore than we already have,” Castiel shook his head. Gabriel didn’t care as much, using it more likely for teasing.
Dean shrugged, laying back on the hospital type bed.
Castiel gave him a look, but when Dean put his uninjured arm behind his head and made space beside him, Castiel shrugged in response. Walking over to the lights, he turned them off and walked back over to the bed. It was a bit small for the two of them, but they eventually positioned comfortably. Castiel laid on his back, his wrist laying flat beside him with Dean on his other side laying on his stomach, half angled into Castiel’s uninjured side.
It’s almost like how they normally sleep, except Dean wouldn’t have his shirt on and Castiel would be in boxers. But they probably shouldn’t startle Sam too much.
Castiel lifted his left hand to Dean’s hair, running his fingers through them. “We need to shower tomorrow,” he mentions.
“You saying we smell?” Dean chuckles.
“Well- yes we do, but not that. Your hair is a bit matted with dirt and sweat.” Castiel disentangle a particular spot, smoothing it out.
“No one ever said hunting was a sanitary job, ya know,” Dean pointed out, and then his voice slipped into a flirty tone. “Besides, gives plenty of opportunities to get cleaned.”
“Dean Winchester, we are both injured and exhausted, do not insinuate anything,” Castiel scolds.
“What?” Dean asked, going for innocent but all the man heard was guilty. “Fine, but when we’re healed up and with a doctors bill of health, we’re staying in the bunker for a week. We deserve it after the weeks we’ve had.”
“Whatever you say dear.” Castiel gets a poke in the stomach for that, grinning. “Go to sleep Dean, we need to rest.”
“Yeah yeah, I hear you.” Castiel feels Dean move a bit to get more comfortable, so he adjust a bit too so his arm rests neatly over Dean’s side.
“Good night Dean.”
“Night Angel.”