lovesick ➳ destiel oneshots

stitch•es

"I would do everything to protect you, Dean." Cas looked over, putting Baby in reverse. It had been a while since the angel had driven the Impala, so he would admit, he was a little rusty.

After about twelve minutes, they finally arrived at their motel, Cas immediately stepped out as soon as he parked into his respectful parking spot. He ran around the front of the car to help Dean get out. Cas hadn't even focused on the bleeding that was coming out of his lower torso, all he could focus on was the love of his life in front of him, his voice weak and his leg weaker.

He used the same technique he had used earlier: putting his arms around his waist while Dean wobbled on his right leg, with his upper arm around the angel's neck.

They got into the motel room and Dean instantly fell down on the bed, his eyes were squinted, and it looked like he was trying not to cry. Cas crawled next to him, putting his hand on Dean's chest. "It will be okay, I will stitch you up." he muttered, giving him a quick peck on top of his eyebrow.

"That stupid son of a bitch Kerri got me. She knocked the shit out of me." he sighed, looking down at his leg, still laying down. It teared the flesh of his left leg, ripping through the fabric of his jeans. It felt like his flesh was on fire, stinging with pain.

"Dean, breathe. Please breathe."

"Okay, okay... okay..." he replied between patterned breaths. "I'll try. I'll... I'll try."

The angel got up and he grabbed the med kit from out of underneath the motel's bathroom sink.  He put the medkit next to Dean's left leg, and went to the small kitchen to get a glass of water from the tap. He opened the med kit and sat himself next to the laying down hunter. He shimmied off Dean's jeans and began working. He poured the glass of water onto his cut and Dean practically screamed in pain, clenching his jaw. Cas elevated his left leg onto his lap, the med kit on the bed next to him. He used the rag that was folded neatly in the compartment of the supplies. He pat his left leg down gently, Dean bubbling something to himself that was incoherent. Most likely profanity. 

Castiel then grabbed a thread of some sort, maybe suture. Dean couldn't really tell because he was looking up at the fan, it whirring away and giving off cool air. He cut the suture with scissors, then placed the scissors back down. He grabbed another utensil, a needle holder. He began doing his work. Cas had seen Dean give stitches on Sam, sewing his skin back up like a stuffed animal whose stuffing was ripped out. It only briefly observed, but the angel knew how to learn things very quickly. On this operation though, he was trying his hardest not to hurt Dean. But he heard his winces and whines.

"Would you like some water before I start?" he asked, tilting his head. Dean propped up his upper body on the bedrest of the frame. He nodded, swallowing. "Okay."

Cas got up but Dean still had to keep his leg elevated, so he floated it up when the angel had escorted from the bed. He grabbed the same glass that he had just used and got tap water again. He walked over and Dean could see the worry in Castiel's azure eyes. He licked his lips, thirsty for any liquid. "Thank you."

Cas nodded as Dean grabbed the glass and began downing it slowly. The water slushed down his throat like a waterslide. Cas kissed Dean again as he reached for the glass that he had just finished. His mouth tasted like blood, which reminded the angel that he, himself, was bleeding, too.

Once Castiel started, he got the grip of things on the stitching situation. It didn't take him long but Dean was clenching a pillow very hardly, trying to maintain his pain with anger. The last stitch was the hardest, as it pulled everything together. "God, baby, God." he grimaced with the last tug. The angel held the suture and needle holder in his left, and used the scissors to snip off the remaining suture with his right. He was finally finished, and Dean was relieved. 

It would take a period of time for it to fully heal, but Dean had managed much worse. Now, it was time for Dean to patch up Cas. "Take off your shirt, let me see it."

The man shrugged off his trench coat (or, overcoat) and began unbuttoning his white dress shirt. After the fourth to last button, Dean could see the top of the four smaller gashes on his stomach. He unlatched the final button and then pulled his sleeves to take off the rest of the fabric. Cas was sitting and Dean had gotten up, Dean held Cas' hand as he began inspecting the gashes. They weren't as deep as Dean's four inch injury. Yet, Castiel had more cuts that were longer, just not as deep. It was bleeding pretty badly, and his dress shirt was caked in blood.

Dean began operating on Cas himself, dabbing up the blood with a cloth and cleaning any dirt that might've been in there with water. After many giggles and kisses, and hardly any operating, Dean was finally done too. Neither of them were bleeding, but then they had to figure out how to snuggle without Cas pulling his stitches out of his stomach. Dean looked at Cas lazily as they laid down together, Cas trying not to lay down on his front or on his side.

"I love you too, Dean."

"I know, baby. You really proved that to me today." 

The hunter's hand met with the angel's smaller hand, they laced together like it was a perfect fit. And it was. Dean was happy and healthy. Castiel was happy and healthy. Nothing was more perfect than them laying together, fighting the urge to snuggle each other's bodies against one another. It would risk pulling on Dean's ankle, and it would risk ripping Cas' torso. But, they couldn't complain. Except they did, the whole night. Drama queens.