Standing Together

Chapter 32

"Better?" Dean asks quietly, once Castiel's calmed down a bit — and Dean's sneezed quite a few times, of course.

Castiel nods, drying his face with his shirt. When he pulls it away, though, it's all red. His eyes widen at that, and he stares in disbelief.

"What —"

"Hey, relax," Dean murmurs. "I think the cat scratched you or something. I'm just gonna go get you a wet —" He pauses, taking just enough time to sneeze, then continues, "a wet paper towel, and I'll clean you up, okay?"

Castiel just nods, and, as he waits for Dean to come back, he pets the cat at his feet. He stretches his legs out in front of him, and she climbs into his lap, cuddling up with him as if she didn't just scratch his face.

Dean returns a minute or so later, paper towels in hand, and Castiel can't help but stare at him.

"Are — are you crying?" Castiel asks.

Dean rolls his eyes. "No, it's the goddamn cat. I'm wasn't joking when I said I'm allergic to it."

He crouches in front of his fiancé and puts the wet paper towel against his cheek. Castiel flinches, but after the initial contact, it's not too bad. Dean cleans the blood from his face, then lets his gaze drift to the boy's scratched, bloodstained shirt.

"Okay, can —" Dean pauses, sneezing once more. "You know what? I'm finishing this at home. That goddamn cat is driving me insane. Come on."

"Wait, I have to feed her," Castiel says, slowly pushing himself to his feet. The cat jumps off his lap, staying right next to him.

"Seriously?" Dean scoffs. "You just got attacked by the thing, and now you want to feed it?"

"She didn't attack me," Castiel mutters, but he doesn't care enough about Dean's opinion to keep up an argument on it.

He walks out to the kitchen, quickly dumping some food in a bowl and refilling the water. Princess sits down on the counter, chowing down on the food like it's nothing. Surprisingly, Dean stays right next to him, despite his allergies putting him through hell, so he doesn't have to do it alone.

"Are we leaving now?" Dean asks impatiently.

Castiel just nods, then rips off a paper towel and presses it against his face again, trying to clear up all the blood. They walk home like that, towel against his cheek with Dean standing by his side.

As soon as they're in the house, Dean says, "Take off your shirt."

"What?"

Dean rolls his eyes, then reaches over to pull the shirt off himself. Castiel's too surprised to stop him, just going along with whatever he does. He doesn't even protest when Dean takes the paper towel from his hand, then presses it against the scratches on his chest.

"Holy —" Castiel whispers, biting his lip before he can finish the sentence. God, that just fucking hurts.

"Oh, man up," Dean says.

"'Man—'" Castiel gapes at him. "Seriously? I'm not looking for sympathy, but maybe give me something more than 'man up.'"

"Fine. Stop being a wimp," Dean deadpans. "Better?"

"Dean —"

"Come on." Dean takes his hand and drags him over to the sink to wet down the paper towel.

"God, you're being an ass," Castiel mutters.

Dean just rolls his eyes and presses the wet paper towel against the scratches on his chest, and Castiel tries his hardest not to flinch. Dean wipes up and blood that might still be left on his chest, then does the same to his face before tossing the paper towel away.

"Something tells me you would hate me if I tried to clean the cuts with alcohol," Dean says, not even pausing to give him time to answer as he pulls out what seems to be a small medical kit from the kitchen cabinet.

"I would literally kill you," Castiel replies. "What are you doing now?"

Dean pulls out some gauze and some tape to go with it. "DIY band —" He drops it on the counter and grabs a tissue just in time to let out a sneeze. He tosses it in the trash before turning back to his fiancé. "DIY bandaids. They fit any size wounds."

It only takes him a minute to cover up the scratches, both on his chest and cheek. Dean tosses the rest of the gauze and tape back in the bin and puts them in the cabinet.

"So, like, don't bleed out, and stay away from me until you take a shower because —" He sneezes into his elbow, then finishes, "Because that." With that, he walks away, locking himself in their bedroom before Castiel can protest.

Castiel sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter. He doesn't want to take a shower so soon after getting this scratched up. What if it starts bleeding again? Hell, he's not even sure that it's stopped.

Bored, he decides to just go to the living room, maybe figure out some piano while he makes sure he's stopped bleeding. He's not sure what song he wants to learn, though. Maybe...

A blast from the past.

Dust in the Wind.