(no subject)

[always_enduphere]

Dean's on his ass in the alley and dizzy with pain before he's willing to admit he's made a mistake.

It was just a short trip to the park. He's been making them daily since Castiel went back to work, short stints in the sunshine to get him out of the apartment. He'd even been thinking, as he walked, that he might be up to bringing Annie next time.

He'd thought nothing of using the alley. It's the shortest route home, and he's made it dozens of times. He's a well built man who looks like he can handle himself, and nothing's eveer been dumb enough to jump him here - no vampires, no demons...not even a wandering spirit.

Dean had wondered, when the first boot connected with his face, when it was he stopped seeing humans as a potential threat.

"Your phone, too," grunts the man standing over him, his and his buddy's meaty palms pawing at Dean's open wallet.

"Eat shit," Dean replies through the blood in his mouth, and is rewarded with another kick, this one to his chest. He coughs and goes back to clutching at his side. He could have taken them, he thinks, or at least lasted longer in the scuffle, if one of them hadn't landed a punch directly to his gunshot wound.

It's not bleeding. Dean will thank heaven for small mercies at a more opportune time, say, when he's not staring down two hundred pounds of doughfaced mugger.

"I'm gonna ask you again," says the man, waving Dean's wallet. "Your phone, too, or we keep working you over. Trust me, we got all day."

"No," says Dean, and it's taken an age to reach the knife in his boot, but he's finally got his fingers wrapped around the hilt. "I don't think you do."

Quicker than death, he shoves the knife through the man's shoe and straight to the flesh beyond, past skin and bone to the concrete beneath it. The man rears back with a howl, and as Dean expected, both his attackers are too freaked out by the sight of their own blood to linger. He listens to the sounds of their hurried retreat and curses silently to himself.

"That was my secondbest knife."

But he still has his phone. Fumbling it from his pocket, Dean draws a labored breath, but there's no putting this off. He's not getting up again under his own power.

So he sucks it up, and he texts Castiel.

i fucked up. in Annie's fav pissing alley by the park.

Comments

[godless_son]

Castiel has rarely, if ever, ran as a human. Dean's training for him primarily consisted of strength and precision exercises and it's not until he's tearing out of the apartment that he finds himself glad for his vessel's light weight and relatively long stride.

He skids into the alley, mind flashing back to a rainy night almost a year ago before he stops just short of Dean, collapsing to his knees as he reaches out a trembling hand to rest on Dean's chest. "Hospital," he gasps, fumbling for his phone. "Hospital, Dean."

[always_enduphere]

"Cas." Startled out of quiescence, Dean tries pulling the phone from Castiel's hands. "Cas. I got mugged, not murdered. It's practically a rite of passage for urban dwellers. I just need help getting up."

Running his tongue over bloody teeth, Dean winces. "Probably getting cleaned up, too."

[godless_son]

They engage in a brief and pitiful tug of war before Castiel yanks the phone back, most likely because he is not the one injured and bloodied on the ground.

"Be quiet and stay still," he hisses, carefully pulling the edge of Dean's shirt up to check his still healing wound. "You could have internal bleeding. Did you hit your head at all? Are you dizzy?" he asks, voice shaky and tight.

[always_enduphere]

Dean considers lying, but he knows he's pretty much walking the wire when it comes to Cas finally flipping out and carrying Dean into a tall tower screaming 'Sanctuary!'

"Not sure about my head. Got kicked a few times, might've banged the wall. And I was dizzy when I got punched in the stomach, but only 'cause it hurt so bad. Cas."

He tries tugging his shirt down. "I know my body, okay? I'm just bruised up."

[godless_son]

"Dean," he breathes, scooting forward until he can slide a hand underneath Dean's head, leaning down until his forehead rests against his own. "Just..."

He breathes out, shuddering as he tries to pull himself together in this dirty, urine soaked alleyway where he could have so easily lost him, again. "I will get you home."

[always_enduphere]

Dean breathes out, relieved enough that he doesn't mind Castiel's forehead smearing Dean's own blood between them. "Thanks, Cas."

He groans, trying to shift enough to help Castiel help him up. "Fuckers got my wallet. I almost had enough stamps for a free coffee in there."

[godless_son]

Castiel winds an arm around Dean's shoulders, taking care not to jostle him as he pulls him into a sitting position.

"I will buy you a coffee," he promises, looking mournfully around as he realizes, yet again that he cannot heal him or fly him home. He cannot do anything. "Whatever kind you'd like. Also a wallet. Dean, I cannot lift you, I'm sorry. Can you stand with my assistance?"

[always_enduphere]

"Deadlifts, Cas," says Dean before he can stop himself, "I told you not to neglect them while I'm out of commission." He sucks in a breath, not relishing the idea of straining any muscle near his core right now.

"Sorry, yeah, I can stand. Just." Dean winds an arm around Castiel's neck in turn. "No big movements, okay?"

[godless_son]

"I'm sorry," he whispers, vowing to do them twice a day every day to ever avoid this situation again.

He slides his other arm around Dean's lower back, and gets his feet under him before he starts to lift. "On three, Dean. Just up enough so I can carry you, alright? One, two, three."

[always_enduphere]

Dean would tell Cas not to apologize, that it's okay to tell him when he's being a dick, but he doesn't have the breath left for it, his whole side lit up like a sun and radiating outward, agony screaming down every nerve.

"Don't carry me," he wheezes, even as he leans hard against Castiel's side, unable to stay upright. "It's fine."

[godless_son]

"Shut up, Dean," he growls, hooking an arm underneath Dean's knees and swinging him up. He's heavy, a little too heavy but not nearly as heavy as he ought to be. Not even close.

"You're getting skinny again," he grunts, getting his feet more firmly under him. "You tell me if anything starts to hurt worse, alright? Promise me."

[always_enduphere]

"My pride count?" Dean grunts, but it's the most he can manage, eyes stubbornly open and staring at Castiel's collar for every labored step he takes towards the apartment. By the time they're in the lobby, Dean figures Cas must look at least as bad off as Dean, and begins to carefully squirm his way down.

"You got me to the elevator," he says. "Take a break."

[godless_son]

"Stop. It." Castiel growls gripping him hard harder as he tries to get down. He knocks the button with his elbow and leans against the wall to wait. "I can make it just that much further. Let me do this for you, please. Just let me take care of you."

[always_enduphere]

"We look like something out of The Princess fucking Bride," Dean mutters back, but he stops squirming, tired out already from his brief struggle.

"I am so tired of feeling like shit."

[godless_son]

"I do not understand that reference," he sighs, stepping into the elevator and elbowing the next button.

He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall. "I, too, am tired of this. We cannot seem to keep you healthy or whole long enough to heal from the last tragedy. I am getting my grace back. This is going to stop."

[always_enduphere]

Dean huffs, head bent against his chest in his cramped position in Castiel's arms. He can feel them trembling beneath him - skinny or not, Dean's not light, and Cas is only human.

He should get to stay that way. "Cas," he says, but nothing more, too aware of the misery in Castiel's voice. The elevator dings. "Let's just get home."

[godless_son]

Castiel grunts in agreement, hauling Dean the short distance to the front door and carefully moving to place him on his feet.

"You should go to the bathroom and get undressed. I will feed the animals and then get you cleaned up."

He lets out a shaky sigh, adrenaline finally crashing as he smooths his fingers down Dean's temple, allowing himself a moment to be grateful he's still in one piece.