Hurt - Dean x Reader

You paced back and forth across the dirty, worn carpet of the motel. Dean was supposed to be back an hour ago and in your line of work no news was bad news. He should have at least called by now and you were frantic with worry.

You gave him another ten minutes and then you grabbed your bag to head out and find him. Your hand reached for the door and pulled it open to see Dean barely standing.

‘Oh my god,’ you said as you rushed out and wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him as you helped him stumble into the motel.

‘What the hell happened Dean?’ you asked as you helped him sit on the worn sofa.

‘It was a trap (y/n). I never saw that one coming, damn it,’ he groaned as he straightened his leg. He was filthy, beaten and bruised, but he still managed to throw you a wink when he saw you looking him up and down to take in his injuries.  

You grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen and the first aid kit from your bag, before crouching in front of Dean. You tried to roll up his trousers to look at his bleeding shin but it was too stiff from blood, so you had to opt for cutting away the fabric from his skin.

You poured the whisky on his wound quickly before he could protest and he yelled out.

‘I never should have let you go alone,’ you muttered as you finished wrapping up the cut on his leg.

‘Hey,’ he said, reaching out a hand to lift up your chin to look at him. ‘I’d let myself get hurt a lot worse than this if it meant you were okay.’

You gave him a small smile before you sat next to him on the sofa. You handed him the whiskey to drink because he’d need stitches on the slash on his abdomen that had torn through his shirt.

‘Tell me what happened?’ you asked quietly, while lifting his shirt over him and Dean leaned forward to help.

‘It was supposed to be the simple salt and burn, just like we planned for, but when I got there it was a trap. Demons (y/n). Demons. I never saw those sons of bitches coming, but I managed to shoot a pile of stock in the warehouse and you’d never believe my luck. The containers were full of salt. You should have seen their faces, and anyway I ran for it after that. As much as my leg would let me anyway,’ he told his story and finished with a small smile.

While he had been talking you’d started preparing for the stitches. You splashed the wound with whiskey and quickly started to stitch him up, trying to be quick and not get distracted by his yells of pain.

It was a long deep cut and it was hurting him like hell. You were surprised he hadn’t passed out on the way back. Every time the needle pierced his skin he let out a small grunt of pain.

A few tears fell from your eyes but you quickly glanced at his face to see he had his eyes closed. Dean noticed you stop for a second and opened his eyes to see you wiping away your tears with the back of your hand.

‘Why are you crying?’ he asks gently, reaching out for your hand.

You bat him away with a small smile, ‘Let me stitch you up.’

Dean frowns but nods slightly and you can feel him watching your face as you carry on stitching him. Dean doesn’t even think about the pain anymore because he is too busy watching you, only feeling a light sting now and again.

When you finish stitching and then bandage him, you stand hoping to clean up the mess except Dean gently grabs your arm.

‘(y/n), what’s wrong?’ he asks gently, wincing when he tries to sit forward.

‘Next time you let me come with you Dean, it hurts me to see you like this when I could have helped,’ you tell him, pushing him back gently. Dean pats the seat next to him.

You sit and Dean wraps an arm around you.

‘I’ve told you, I’d take a thousand times this pain just to make sure that you don’t have to feel a scratch babe,’ he told you as he planted a kiss on your cheek. ‘But if it makes you feel better, then I’ll think about letting you come next time,’ he continues with a smirk.

‘I’m really glad you’re not dead Dean,’ you whisper, looking into his eyes.

‘They can’t take me away from you that easily,’ he promises, leaning in to kiss you gently.