Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

Bandages

"It's just a scratch!" Dean argued, warily eying the first aid kit you had just brought in from the kitchen. Placing it on the bed beside him, you stared down at him.

Dean's hair was freshly washed, no longer full of dust, debris, blood and guts. The cuts on his face were still slightly oozing, his eye already swollen shut. He held one arm to his side, and although you knew it wasn't broken it still scared you.

His favorite maroon shirt was splattered with blood, his along with the monsters and a little bit of yours as well. It was ripped in multiple spots, and you knew he would be heartbroken when you threw it away.

He looked a sight, and while you knew none of it was life threatening, you were still worried for him. Without saying a word, you reached into the kit, pulling out the package of band-aids, along with a couple of bandages. "Y/N, you don't have to do this. It's not that bad. Nothing that a shot or two of whiskey and sleep won't cure."

Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips, letting Dean know that you weren't joking. "Dean, the cut on your forehead is still bleeding. You haven't even given me a chance to check the rest of you over. So we can do this right now or I'll drug your drink and do it while you're asleep. Your choice."

Rubbing his hand against his face, he hissed when it connected with the cut. "Fine. A band-aid or two. Some aspirin, and you next to me when I sleep. Those are my conditions."

"And I accept," you assured him. Pulling the kit closer to him, you helped him out of his ruined shirt and t-shirt, your eyes widened at the cuts lacing across his chest and arms. "Dean, this is definitely much more than a scratch or two. Let me call Cas, get him to heal...,"

"No!" Dean exclaimed, grabbing your hand and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Cas is busy trying to find Michael. I'll survive. Especially if I'm under your wonderful care."

"Compliments will get you nowhere," you tried telling him. "But we'll try it this way first. If I don't like how things are healing, we call Cas."

"Of course sweetheart. Whatever makes you happy."

Seeing Dean like this didn't make you happy. Not at all. But you went to work, cleaning each and every cut, applying band-aids when needed. He stayed still, only hissing slightly when the alcohol stung, always your stubborn hero. Laying your hand on his bare shoulder, you reached up, dabbing at the worst cut. The one above his eye. "This one is the worst," you told him. "It will probably sting."

"Not with your gentle touch," he muttered through clenched teeth. As you press the cleaning pad gently against the wound, you could see Dean's entire body straighten. You could hear his teeth gnashing together, but he stayed quiet.

"I think this one will require something more than a band-aid. I think we have a butterfly in here somewhere."

Placing the butterfly carefully on the wound, you hoped it wouldn't scar. Pressing a kiss softly to his cheek, you stood up. "There, that looks a little better."

"Think I'll live? He chuckled, gingerly pulling another t-shirt over his head before unbuttoning his jeans.

"I believe so. Why don't I get my brave patient some whiskey and then he can sleep it off."

"As long as you're back to sleep with me," he winked before he attempted to climb in bed. Groaning, he flopped down, and you wanted to do nothing more than pamper him and take away his pain.

"I'll be right back," you promised, shutting the door quietly behind you. Sam's door was shut, light peering out from the crack, and you hesitated. Wondering if you should check on him as well. But his injuries had been less severe than Dean's, and you knew he had probably already taken care of himself.

Heading to the library, you poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass, taking a healthy sip before adding more. Turning back down the hallway, you open the bedroom door, only to find Dean sound asleep. Shuffling as quietly as you could, you slipped into the room, setting the crystal glass on the nightstand beside him.

You always loved watching Dean sleep. Even with the cuts and bruises on his face, he still looked so handsome. So innocent. Softly, you ghosted your lips over his cheek, noticing the smile that crept on his face. Making sure the blanket was pulled up, you slipped out of the room, letting him sleep.

Heading through the garage, you picked up one of his spare coats, wrapping it around your shoulders. With a flashlight you made the short trek down the tunnel, sitting down at the edge as soon as the night sky came into view. Wrapping the coat around you, you peered up at the moon, your thoughts troubled.

You hated seeing Dean like this. He was always so tough, so in control. But because of your stupid mistake, he had gotten beaten up, and you were worried that it was worse than he was letting on.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you stared up at the stars, wondering if this was really the life for you. If you were tough enough to hunt. To handle the lows along with the highs.

"It's freezing! What are you doing out here?" Dean called out. Hastily wiping away the tear, you faced him, pasting a smile on your face.

"Just needed some air. But why aren't you in bed?"

He sat down gingerly next to you, wrapping his good arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him. "I couldn't sleep. You weren't there."

"Go back. You're sore, and this cold weather won't help. I'll be in soon."

He didn't budge. You hadn't expected any different. Leaning closer in his embrace, you stayed quiet, enjoying the moment.

It was a couple minutes later he finally spoke. "Y/N, I think I know you well enough to know when you're worried. I just want to know why."

Sighing, you knew Dean wouldn't give up until you gave him an answer. An honest one.

"Dean, do you think tonight was my fault? And honest opinion please."

Grunting, he slid around until he was facing you. Reaching over, he grasped your hands. "First of all, no I don't. We all make mistakes, but my getting hurt was mine, not yours. Please don't think that."

"I can't help it!" you exclaimed. "I grew lax, and because of that, you're hurt. And I just worry that maybe this isn't the life for me."

"Bullshit," was his reply. "You're one of the best hunters I've ever known. Sam and I feel a lot safer with you by our side. And as for you and I? I can't imagine you not with me sweetheart."

"I just don't want to be a liability."

"Never. Unless you make your sore hunter stay out here any longer."

You shook your head. Standing up, you reached down, helping him to his feet. "I'm ready to crawl into bed."

"Don't forget socks!" He exclaimed, and you glanced up at him. "You've been out here all night. You're feet are gonna be freezing, and I don't want to be your heater tonight"