stop trying to cheer me up; nursemaid dean means well
“How do you feel?” Dean asks, pausing in the doorway.
Cas shrugs. “Like half my leg is on fire.”
“Did you take your pills?” Dean asks, shooting a narrow look at the little bottle on the night stand. Every time he sees it, his first instinct is to hide it, but this Cas isn’t that Cas. He shouldn’t be treated like a baby because of a crazy vision Dean had five years ago. “It’s been six hours.”
“They don’t really help. They just make me sleepy.”
Dean comes into the room, pausing at the foot of the bed long enough to squeeze Cas’ good ankle. “If you’re asleep, you won’t notice that half your leg is on fire.”
Cas shrugs again.
“Come on,” Dean says, climbing onto the bed. “The ER doc said it was a clean break. You’ll be up in a couple weeks. And – hey, Sam was just saying the other day that you’re not really a hunter until you break something.”
“He’s said the same thing about dying.”
That’s an unpleasant thought, so Dean leans in an kisses the corner of Cas’ mouth. He smells like their bed, sleep-warm and familiar. Dean presses in closer, humming under his breath; Cas allows it at first, but when Dean lingers he sighs and pulls away, bristling like a hedgehog.
“Stop trying to cheer me up.”
“Hey,” Dean says, stroking his hair. “I’m sorry your hurting.”
“It’s not that. I just – I fell down the stairs.”
“I tripped over my own feet.”
Dean snorts out a laugh against Cas’ shoulder. Cas makes an indignant noise, but Dean just noses his way up to Cas’ neck and hides a kiss below Cas’ ear. Dean knows it must be irritating for him; he used to be light and grace and intend and now he’s stuck in a clumsy, human body that doesn’t always follow directions.
“Come here,” Dean says, wrapping his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “Lemme tell you about the time Sam lost his shoe down a storm drain.”