12 Days Of Shipmas (A Multi Fandom Compilation)

Two Turtle Doves (Destiel from Supernatural)

"It's fine," he protested. "I'll fix it up when we get back, I've had worse."

Sam bit his lip as he pulled off his army jacket and wrapped it tightly around the bleeding gashes. "You're pretty banged up," he said, trying not to sound argumentative but failing. "What with your leg and all. Can you even stand?"

"I've had worse," Dean just repeated again, grunting against the pain of Sam's coat and begging him not to say what he thought he was going to say.

But Sam, the dumb moose, never knew when to leave well enough alone. "If you don't want to go to the hospital, maybe we should call-"

"NO!" Dean shouted, probably louder than he meant to. "Just...no, okay?" He looked around the room and sighed. "Look, just...go see if we got them all, then we can burn this place down and get the hell out of here." All he wanted now was a hot shower and some whiskey and his bed. He would deal with the pain in the morning.

Sam pressed his lips together but didn't argue, and instead did as his big brother said and started inspecting the trashed candy house that was somehow still standing, making sure they'd got every one of those evil things.

Half an hour later, Sam was propping Dean up as they watched the place burn, making sure the whole forest didn't catch light, and ready with their blades in case any of the elves came tearing out with their asses on fire.

Dean had no problem for once letting Sam drive. There was no way he could work the pedals or hold the wheel the state he was in, so he just chucked him the keys, ignored the responding raised eyebrow, and slung himself into the passenger seat with the intention of passing out as soon as possible.

It was hard, trying to sleep though with his raw arm and throbbing knee, but no matter what Sam said he would not let himself consider who could heal it with just a simple touch.

He didn't deserve that.

It didn't stop him thinking about Cas though. He was hurting and he couldn't deny himself that at least, the luxury for his mind to wander over all the ways Dean had screwed him over and most definitely did not deserve any sympathy. Any touches.

It didn't stop him missing his friend either, missing his dumb comments and running commentary on whatever Netflix show he was barrelling through at that time. Missing the way he gave Dean that crooked smile, or how his blue eyes sometimes lit up, just for him. The way he sometimes forgot just how powerful the angel was, and would be awed by his strength and his fury.

But Cas had been pretty scarce the last couple of weeks, and Dean refused to call on him, for whatever reason. So what his arm was bleeding through Sam's coat, or that he couldn't walk by himself? He'd get over it, he'd drum up some fake insurance and go to the hospital if things got really bad.

He would not ask this of Cas.

When they arrived back at the bunker Sam helped him through the door, down the stairs and even into his room. "You need help, um...?" Sam asked.

"Nah man," Dean assured him quickly. "It's fine, I can manage from here." He was pretty certain Sam didn't believe him, but thankfully, he left him to it anyway.

First, Dean rummaged through his drawers until he found the strongest pain-killers he could, and whacked twice the recommended dosage down with a shot of Jack. Then, he drank half the Jack Daniels, which had been almost a full bottle to start with, and slowly peeled his grim clothing off, tossing it into a pile that he would decide later whether or not to wash or just burn. Finally, he managed to hop and stumble into a scalding hot shower, cleaning his skin of sweat and blood, and inspecting the stinging slashes in his arms.