Reckless [Dean Winchester]

21. Stitches

21. Stitches

Red. Knife. Blood. Stinging. Pain. Fainting.

I don't replay the entire incident in my head, only flickers. I'm glad for the flickers, they cause me enough stress.

Once I push away the thoughts, I take in my surroundings. I know I'm back in someone's bed, probably my own if I have to guess. Someone's with me, I feel their warm hands on my arm. I'm not dead, I'm alive. I'm alive on fool's luck.

I decide to open my eyes. My vision is a bit blurry at first, so I have to blink a lot. Once I see clearly, I see that I'm back in my room, and that Dean is at my bedside. I snort quietly. He's got my left arm and is running a needle and thread through it. I watch curiously.

His eyes are taken off the stitching long enough to meet mine. He smiles tenderly. "Hey, Max," he says quietly.

"Hey," I croak. God, my voice is scratchy. "You my doctor?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Sam?"

"He went back to bed."

"Oh." I clear my throat. I want to sit up, but since Dean's doing patchwork I don't want to.

"You haven't been out long, if you're wondering." The green eyes go back to the stitching. "I just started this fifteen minutes ago."

"I feel like I've been out for longer."

"You feeling anything?"

I shake my head. "You got me on painkillers?"

"Would you rather be waking up with burning arms?"

"Definitely not." I continue to watch.

"This doesn't bother you?"

"Not really."

"You ever stitched yourself up?"

"No, but with some things I've seen, this is the least worst of them all." I wince as I feel the tug. "It's the feeling that creeps me out." I shake my head. "I can't understand it. How could I have not known I had a demon nesting in me?"

"It probably wiped your memory."

"They've got to have some serious power to do that." I scoff.

"Some do." He snips the thread.

"You should have become a doctor," I half tease. "Your patchwork isn't half bad. I'm assuming you two get injured a lot."

"More than we'd like," he admits. "If you want to get comfortable, do so now before I start on the other arm."

Taking his advice in mind, I sit up, painfully using my arms to put a pillow behind my back. "Did you believe it?" I ask as Dean rethreads the needle. "What the demon was saying?"

"What, about it posing as you? A part of me did. But I should know better. Demons are well-known for lying out of their asses a lot."

I snort out a laugh. "I can see why." I flinch as I (somehow) feel the needle poke through my skin.

"You don't have to look, Max."

"Would you rather me stare at you the entire time?"