[fic] worried man (dean/cas, 1k)
HC BINGO || Bullet Wounds (1k)
Castiel has been admitted to the hospital, Dean, Jo and Charlie are left in their dorm room and Dean's head is a mess. warnings: shootings, gun mention
archiveofourown
They pretend they’re alright.
Dean hates it: the way they lay in silence, in the dark, pretending they’re asleep. Cas’s bed isn’t empty, even if it should be. Jo and Charlie fill it, curled up close. Even from across the room, he can hear their whispers. He understands, even if he does his best to banish the words from his mind. When they asked if they could stay, he should have said no. He couldn’t though.
The slam of the door and the phone conversation is still fresh in his mind. Anna’s voice and how much it changed when the hospital called.
“It’s Cas,” she’d simply said, stare vacant. “He’s been shot. Luke’s there. I’m his emergency contact. I gotta…” She hadn’t finished her sentence, just grabbed her bag and slammed the door shut behind them.
The worst part was that they’d been laughing, before. They were joking about what was taking so long. Luke had called Cas right before he left. Even though it was eleven, he’d wanted to be picked up and Cas had promised to be right back. They’d all been laughing about how Cas was intentionally staying back later so they couldn’t watch the horror film he’d been so against watching.
They are in their own horror film now.
Dean’s heart beat a furious pace, anxiety master over him. He didn’t have a Jo to comfort him. His Jo was in the hospital, in surgery. Anna had called at last, explained a tiny bit of what happened. They’d brought Cas into surgery, to remove the bullet fragments because they were too close to his spine for the doctors to be comfortable leaving them in. They’d gone to bed after that news, knowing that they couldn’t do anything. Dean knew he wouldn’t sleep.
When he slept, he dreamt. For once, maybe dreaming was worse than waking. He dreamt of the blood, his death, a funeral. Castiel, lips white with the lack of blood, eyes closed, skin cold. Dreamt about that time they’d laid in bed, next to each other. Cas with his head at Dean’s feet, just staring up at the ceiling. He’d started talking, about Luke and how he was scared for him. How maybe one day, they’d get the call. He was in and out of centres; both psychiatric and rehab. He had anger problems, substance abuse problems. Things could happen.
Cas knew he was dangerous. Dean wanted to be furious at him for forgetting that.
He needed to escape. Anna still hadn’t called after a quick text to say he was out of surgery. It was already noon, Jo and Charlie back to sleep on Cas’s bed. This time asleep, not faking it. None of them had slept much outside of nightmares and being scared. Yet they’d pretended, for each other’s sake.
He leaves them a note, that he’s out but has his phone. He can’t stay inside; the air feels toxic. He’s smothered by his own worry in a room so filled with Cas, he needs out. Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself: in truth, he wants to go to the emergency room, try and get to see Cas. His family is there though and they’re not related. Even if, they wouldn’t let him through, not quite yet.
He’s out of recovery. Not around yet. Waiting now. Dean doesn’t answer.
He’s out. Asking for you, if you knew. Seemed upset. Dean’s head is a mess. Cas wanted to see him. His thoughts keep running around, keep trying to imagine what’s happening. Police’s here. Talking to him now. Pass by? I’ll text you the room.
On my way.
The hospital is never quiet. He knew, from the times he’d driven Charlie to see her mum or the time that Sam had been admitted with meningitis when he was seven. Even though he knew it was plenty warm, he felt like he was freezing. Muscles locking up more the closer he came to the room Anna had texted him.
The Novak family had passed him before, unaware of who Dean was. Maybe for the better. Cas wasn’t on good terms with many of his family members, for more reasons than he’d wanted to admit to him. Knowing they’d been around and Cas would be on edge, especially after the surgery, made his stomach churn.
“Hey,” Anna whispered after he entered Cas’s room. He was asleep, looking restless even in his slumbers. “He’s had quite the afternoon.”
“I saw them leave,’ Dean whispered back. “How’s he doing?” She gave him the low down of what had happened and what the surgeons had said. Even though he’d have scars and would be in quite a bit of pain, he’d been lucky. The bullet could’ve severed his spinal cord, leaving him paralysed from the waist down.
“Do you mind staying with him? I want to nip downstairs, get something to eat.”
“Yeah, of course, go ahead.” She gives him the low down of what to do and what he can and can’t do (please make him drink something, he’s allowed to) before tiptoeing out of the room.
Cas is out of it for a solid half an hour after Anna leaves and even after, he’s groggy. Anesthesia and getting shot will do that to you, he knows. Still Dean pretends it doesn’t hurt him to see Cas like this. He’d expected it to look worse, for the sight to be scarier. All in all, it’s oddly okay. The drain from where they cut him open is gnarly, but he’s seen worse.
“Hi.” Cas mumbles sleepily, eyes focussing on his figure.
“You gave us all quite the scare. Don’t do it again. If you do, I’m kicking you out and giving Charlie your stuff. She’s stolen it already anyway.” He goes to laugh, but presses his eyes shut firmly when he does. It has to hurt. “You alright? Want some water?”
“Yeah.” Cas grimaces as he sips from his straw. “I feel like a kid again.”
“Anna’s gone down to grab something to eat,” he offered. “Go back to sleep if you want, I’ll be here.” He settles himself on the edge of the bed when Cas signals he should. “Need a pillow?” He just grumbles, which he takes as a yes.
Dean settles back against the matress, letting Cas snuggle up against his shoulder.
“Getting comfy is hard when your stomach tries to kill you,” he groans.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m glad you’re still around.”