Hunting Season // A Destiel Fanfic (AU)

Shivering Splinter

For the next few days Castiel lays in bed on request of Dean. Not wanting to be punished, he listens to Dean. Of course the angel also felt more like a burden as he laid in bed for most of the day.

The next week // Wednesday // 3:04 pm

Castiel woke up to hear a faint door shut. It was definitely Dean leaving like the other days to get dinner or supplies. His eyes fluttered progressively open until fully awake. Letting out a soft groan as he stretched and forgot about the casting upon his injured wings. Glancing at the time, Castiel laid there, motionless.

Then he felt cold. Really fucking cold. Even though he had two thick blankets that held the leftover warmth of Dean and Castiels body heat, the angel shivered.

It soon got cold enough Castiel slowly stood up, legs trembling with each step.

He was breaking Deans order...

Castiel held his arms around himself as he progressively made his way to the open living room. The fire had gone out and there wasn't any logs left... Maybe Dean was getting them?

The temperature merely made him feel he needed warmth then and there. If Dean could be with him it'd be much easier to ask to do this.

His eyes scanned the room that was filled with pieces of natural light. Then his eyes landed on the axe by the fireplace. He could chop firewood... He was bought for one of those reasons after all.

Wednesday // 3:45 pm

Castiel stood outside, half-naked and barefoot with the old adze. Each swing down made Castiel feel so weak, stumbling a few times as he tried to pull out the edge of the blade from the tree stump.

There was always a thunk, and then the rusting of dried leaves from under Castiels feet. Halfway through, he was lightheaded and his arms aches already. He definitely wasn't used to it already and it's only been a little more than a few days... If he counted correctly that is.

When Castiel got 24 quarter pieces, he decided to stop and work on starting the fire with the wood he chopped. Carrying four logs per trip, he managed to finish in 7 trips. One was purely for the wood-chopper.

Wednesday // 4:56 pm

The angel scrambled to find the matches. He couldn't find a pack anywhere. He checked the kitchen, near the manual gaslight stove, the small stone mantel upon the rustic fireplace, underneath the couch, Deans drawers, everywhere he could think of.

Then, it got to him. There was one place he wasn't allowed to go into. There were two, technically, but one was way easier to try and open. It was one of the kitchen drawers. It was locked and looked way more used than the other ones. It's handle was worn down, loosing its once metallic shine. Scratches met the corners, peeling away the burgundy paint. Something was definitely in that drawer. Maybe one of those items were matches?

Grabbing one of the kitchen metal spatulas that were held in a old, long terracotta-like container with small, children-like painted handprints in different colors painted on it. There were two bigger, adult handprints as well. The fingers thinner the than the other, it was more family-like than what Deans persona brings out. Definitely strange.

Castiel moved the spatula to the sides of the locked drawer and jammed on it. Pushing, pulling, it was no use with such weak condition. As he continued to rattle the drawer and a bit of the counter, something fell off the top shelf from nowhere.

It was a small metal box. A lighter.

Wednesday // 5:26 pm

The house was a mess. Castiel sat in front of the fireplace on his scarred knees, catching his breath. He pushed one last long to join the crackling two logs already. That's when he felt a sting of pain upon his hand.

Castiel winced and looked back at his hand. It didn't look like anything was wrong. Except for a long mark that wasn't there before. It was located on the meatier part of the base of his thumb in his palm. Short-looking and thin, Castiel moved his other finger over before pulling away in pain. He curled up on the floor. He didn't know what happened, but he laid there in the warmth from the fire and the sting of his hand.

Wednesday // 5:54 pm

The cream of the door opening made Castiel jump slightly.

Dean was home.

Dean had a few bags in his hands. He was coming back from a supply run and a job. Seeing how the place was such a mess, he looked rather shocked. What made him drop his bags, however, was the curled up angel on the floor near the fireplace.

Rushing over to Castiel, he looked over at the angel worriedly. "What the hell happened?! Cass are you okay?"

The angel flinched. Looking back at Dean, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he just kept repeating.

Dean merely furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, "What are you sorry for?"

"Just make it stop," Castiel let out. He then shut up from there, flinching at Deans movement.

Dean looked at Castiel, then the lighter, the firewood, and the odd positioning of their right hand. Dean pulled Castiel to sit up and pulled him into a hug, "Make what stop? Were you cold?"

Castiel didn't respond, wincing quietly as his hand moved from Deans hug.

His master pulled away to grab his wrist, "Are you hurt?" He searched the others palm until landing on what he assumed was the issue. "Oh, Cass, you just got a splinter..."

Castiel looked at Dean in a mixture of pain and confusion. He hadn't felt with a splinter. Or he doesn't remember dealing with one that was. "C-can you...?" He started quietly, unsure.

Dean nodded, "Stay here." Dean moved up.

Castiel nodded in understanding, waiting there the best he could as he watched Dean disappear into the hall behind him.

Dean came back shortly after with a med kit, moving to the bathroom sink. "Come here Cass," he called.

The angel stood up and made his way to Dean. Unsure what was going to happen. His eyes worriedly looked over at Deans movements.

Dean turned the water on and pulled the angels hand underneath it, "Wash it and dry it first."

Castiel did as he was told, of course it hurt as he did so. Trying to be careful when drying as it hurt twice as much than before. He bit his inner lip.

Dean pulled out tweezers then, grabbing the angels hand to pull closer to him.

Castiel watched very carefully with wide, worried blue eyes.

"This might hurt a little, but don't move," Dean stared at Castiel.

Castiel was u sure what the man was about to do, but when he started doing it, Castiel squirmed a small bit.

Dean stopped to stare at Castiel.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly. When Dean continued, he instinctively grabbed at the man's shirt. Near Deans left pec, he tugged at the fabric with a tensed hand and tears stinging his eyes.

"All done." Dean smiled softly.

Castiel looked back at his hand to see there was a bandaid on it. It was a light blue one with green and pink flowers on it. Definitely a strange color choice, but also strange for Dean to have such things. He peered upon it curiously.

"It was the only one small enough," Dean explained quickly as he cleaned up. Adding a gentle kiss to the others forehead.

Castiel let out a soft, "Thank you," as he felt the man's lips touch the center of his forehead, still relatively questioning of the bandaid and how the pain already started to be less.

"Now let's talk about the mess, sha'll we?"

Castiel stomach dropped.