Supernatural One Shots

Don't Know, Don't Care i/f

If it weren't for the incredibly bright fluorescent lights in the motel room, Dean wouldn't have noticed the blood on Castiel's shirt beneath his trench coat when he opened the door.

Cas sways on his feet. Dean grips his upper arms and guides him to his own bed despite Castiel's protests. "What happened?" Dean asks as he helps the wounded angel up on the bed.

Cas' breathing is labored as he and Dean work to get the trench coat and then suit jacket off. "Doesn't matter. We're safe."

Dean starts unbuttoning the shirt. "What were you wounded with?"

"Don't know, don't care. All I know is it hurts angels."

Dean pokes and prods at the cut, eliciting a slightly angry groan from Cas. "Looks like a blade or a knife."

Cas leans back, resting his arms on the pillows at his sides. "It was meant to hurt angels." His head sags forward.

"Hey, stay with me," Dean commands.

Cas forces his eyes open and looks up at Dean. "My powers are temporarily out so you have to treat me like you would a human."

"That means stitches," Dean says as he stands.

As Dean walks around the room, preparing everything, Cas lets his head drop to look down. His crisp, white shit is now torn and stained with his blood. Not that it matters. He can borrow one of Dean's and then poof a new one into existence after he's better.

He's tired. That's a new feeling. One he hasn't experienced, only one he's seen since his arrival on Earth. He's seen it in Dean after he's run himself ragged on a hunt or chasing "the next Big Bad" as he calls it. The feeling almost scares Cas but he wants desperately to give into it. Cas closes his eyes.

But then Dean is there, shaking his shoulder almost roughly. "Hey. Stay awake."

"That's rude," Cas comments.

"Shit," Dean mutters. Cas watches Dean's hands as he prepares a needle and thread. He's sitting on a chair beside the bed. When did that get there, Cas wonders. "You've lost too much blood."

Cas looks down again. There's definitely more blood on his shirt than before. Or was he just asleep for that long?

"Alright, Cas. I'm not gonna sugar-coat this for you – this'll hurt. Well, maybe it will. I don't know anything about angel's pain tolerance." He grins. Years of painfully patching up wounds like his have put him more at ease. Dean himself has been hurt before like this and he was fine. Not to mention, freaking out in front of Cas probably wouldn't be the best thing right now. "Think you can lay down? It's easier for me that way." Cas winces almost imperceptibly at the thought but does it anyway. He holds his breath to stop himself from groaning. With shaking hands, Cas pulls the shirt aside so Dean can see the wound and access it.

"I'll make this fast," Dean says. He pushes the sides of the cut close together. Dean can see Cas clenching his fists against the pain. When the needle pierces his skin, he exhales sharply, not being able to help the groan that escapes his lips. His breathing which was shallow before speeds up. "Man, you gotta calm down. I can't stitch up your skin if you breathe that hard." Through sheer force of will, Cas slows his breathing. "Good," Dean praises. Cas can feel him pull the thread through and tie it. "You know, first time I gave Sammy stitches, he was freaking out. Usually that kid was so calm but there was something about that day or that injury." Dean whistles. He pushes the needle through the skin again.

After a few controlled breaths, Cas asks, "Where is Sam?" He doesn't really care at this point, but Dean seems to want to talk either to keep him awake or distract him from the pain. Dean ties the next stitch, snips off the thread and proceeds to the next one.

"There was a cute waitress at the diner, so probably with her," he says casually.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I go to sleep now?"

Dean laughs once, not answering, pushes the needle through again, making Cas clench his fists so hard that his nails make the palms of his hands bleed. "You'll be okay, Cas. Be up and walking in a few days. Back to angel business in a week or so."

Cas takes a breath. "Does that mean you're going to make me to watch your movies while I recuperate?"

Dean laughs again. "Hell, yeah."

• • •

Castiel wakes up to pain. He opens his eyes, squinting against the light from the bathroom. "Dean?" he calls.

Dean comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Cas." He smiles. "How you feeling, buddy?"

"For some reason, I thought the pain would stop after you put the stitches in. I guess I was wrong."

"Let me take a look," Dean says. He goes to the bed and pulls back the covers. Only then does Cas notice that he's shirtless.

"Did you take off my clothes?" he asks, slightly affronted.

"Only your shirt and shoes. Figured you'd want some of your dignity after this." Dean pulls back the tape on the bandage to see the wound. He nods approvingly then covers it back up. "Looks good. I'll redress it in a few hours."

"You do excellent stitches," Cas comments.

"Practice makes perfect, unfortunately." Dean grabs the remote off the bedside table and puts it in Cas' hand. "Find something to watch. I'll get dressed."

Cas looks for a minute and finds a movie with men firing guns at each other. Cas remembers Dean saying something once about liking action movies, so he picks that one.

When Dean comes out and looks at the TV, he says, "No way. Die Hard? Awesome."

That's when Sam enters the motel room and says, in a completely different tone, "Die Hard?"

"Cas has never seen it."

Dean starts to sit on the bed, but Sam says, "Hey, hey, not on my bed."

Dean stands up and mutters something under his breath which Castiel hears but pretends not to have. So Dean circles the bed and sits on the chair he left beside the other one and kicks his feet up.

They stay like that until Castiel falls asleep.

• • •

The next few days were spent like that, with Castiel laying in bed and the three of them watching movies.

Dean was right. With the slow return of Castiel's powers, he was completely fine in a week.