Fic: Small Things (Dean/Cas)
This one is for views who is really an awesome person. I hope you like this! Merry Christmas!
Title: Small Things
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Summary: Written for the prompt: Castiel shows up at the brothers' motel room torn up and exhausted from the civil war in heaven, and Dean takes care of him.
Rating: PG-13
Dean laughed, eyes on the television, and grabbed a handful of chips from the bag next to him. He sighed as the movie came to an end and began to flick through the channels trying to find another film, anything to distract him from thinking about Sam, out hunting alone.
He jumped, cursing, as something thumped down on the floor. Grabbing his knife from under the pillow, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, padded barefoot across the room.
“Damn. Cas?” Shaking his head, he crouched down next to Castiel. Swallowing, he reached out and touched his hand; bit his lip when he felt how cold it was. And he wasn’t moving. “Cas? Come on.” He moved his hand, pressed his fingers against Castiel’s neck, “Stupid. Stupid. He’s not human. He won’t have a pulse.” Still, he left his hand there and tried to ignore the blood that started to coat his fingers. He closed his eyes, tried to picture how Castiel had looked the last time they’d seen each other and shouted out when he felt fingers close around his wrist.
He opened his eyes, breathed a sigh of relief when Castiel met his gaze, lips quirking slightly, “You son of a bitch.”
“Dean?”
“I thought you were dead. What happened?” He pulled Castiel’s arm up around his shoulder and helped him stand up.
“There was an ambush. I-” He winced, doubling over, “I was taken by surprise.”
They made their way over to the bed, taking it slowly. When they reached it, Dean helped Castiel to lower down onto it then turned away to find a first aid kit, “How do I help?”
“What?”
“Is there - do I have to do anything differently or do I just act like you’re Sam?”
“Just wash the blood off first, so we can see what the damage is.”
Nodding, he span back around and began to peel Castiel’s clothes off, wincing at the way that it stuck to his skin, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” He reached out and touched Dean’s hand, “It’s okay - it doesn’t really hurt.”
“You’re bleeding too much.”
“Dean.”
“Sorry.” He finished pulling the shredded material away and briefly rested his hand on Castiel’s chest before starting to clean the blood away. “I told you to be careful.” He grabbed the bottle of alcohol and poured some of it out onto one of the wounds before placing some gauze over it.
“I heal quickly. There’s really no need for you to do this.”
“I want to.” He held Castiel’s gaze until the angel nodded and then returned to patching him up. Taking deep breaths, he brushed his hand across a cut on Castiel’s forehead, pulled it away when he flinched, “You said it didn’t hurt.”
“It doesn’t hurt much.” He reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, “Come here, just relax for a minute.” He pulled Dean down onto the bed and tangled their fingers together, “I’m okay. Where’s Sam?”
“Hunting. Probably getting himself beaten up, too.” He scowled at Castiel.
“It’s not that when you’re getting into trouble.”
He shrugged, “I get that.”
“I’m as careful as I can be, Dean. You know that.” He yawned around the final sentence.
“You tired?”
“Yeah.”
“You should rest.” He reached over and patted the angel’s leg.
Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, “I don’t sleep.”
“You can still rest.”
“Okay. I will, as long as you do, too.”
“I will.” He reached down and grabbed the covers, pulled them up and around them both, “How long until you have to go back?”
“A day, maybe.”
“A day it is, then.”