[ If there's anything Castiel has learned about Dean that wasn't in the prepared information about him, it's that Dean is clever, shrewd, and independent to a fault. There is nothing for him to gain by helping Castiel, and Dean must know that. Dean takes the knife from his hand, and Castiel's eyes clothes as he waits for the blow to land, for the door to open as Dean makes his escape, to die.
Instead, he hears the fabric of his shirt tearing, and opens his eyes to look up and see Dean still there, talking about stitches, and... blood donation? Castiel's chin lifts and his eyes narrow as he forces the blurry image of Dean above him into focus. ]
You're helping me.
[ It's a mumbled observation Castiel makes, just in time to watch Dean cut the rest of his bonds and exit the vehicle. Castiel's heart drops to his stomach, feeling strangely abandoned, oddly disappointed when he's the one who confronted Dean, shot him, apprehended him... Kidnapped him, really—
Dean returns a moment later, armed with Castiel's own supplies, and it must be guilt choking Castiel because if there were blood in his lungs, he would've been dead long before now. Castiel struggles to get his undamaged left arm underneath of him, to sit up, and to drag his blurry vision into focus on Dean. He opens his mouth to ask him "why," only to have a flask pushed to his lips.
Castiel doesn't have much strength to resist, but he tries, and mostly just ends up choking and coughing up half of what Dean fed into his mouth, only to be immediately distracted by the pain as his arm is tugged and maneuvered through his vest. Castiel groans and grits his teeth through the pain, and though he'd like to help Dean get his bloodied clothing off and his arm where it needs to be, his arm isn't responding to his brain's requests, and his thoughts are slow and thick-feeling as it is. Castiel's breath huffs. He squeezes the fist of his left hand in Dean's jacket and he watches, eyes almost unseeing, the gold horned amulet bounce against Dean's chest as Dean digs the bullet from his arm. ]
Is that— Is... all this necessary?
[ Stitches, Dean had said. A transfusion, he'd mentioned. And he'd poured alcohol down Castiel's throat. This is what he does for himself, isn't it? Apparently Castiel isn't the only one not new to being shot. ]
no subject
Instead, he hears the fabric of his shirt tearing, and opens his eyes to look up and see Dean still there, talking about stitches, and... blood donation? Castiel's chin lifts and his eyes narrow as he forces the blurry image of Dean above him into focus. ]
You're helping me.
[ It's a mumbled observation Castiel makes, just in time to watch Dean cut the rest of his bonds and exit the vehicle. Castiel's heart drops to his stomach, feeling strangely abandoned, oddly disappointed when he's the one who confronted Dean, shot him, apprehended him... Kidnapped him, really—
Dean returns a moment later, armed with Castiel's own supplies, and it must be guilt choking Castiel because if there were blood in his lungs, he would've been dead long before now. Castiel struggles to get his undamaged left arm underneath of him, to sit up, and to drag his blurry vision into focus on Dean. He opens his mouth to ask him "why," only to have a flask pushed to his lips.
Castiel doesn't have much strength to resist, but he tries, and mostly just ends up choking and coughing up half of what Dean fed into his mouth, only to be immediately distracted by the pain as his arm is tugged and maneuvered through his vest. Castiel groans and grits his teeth through the pain, and though he'd like to help Dean get his bloodied clothing off and his arm where it needs to be, his arm isn't responding to his brain's requests, and his thoughts are slow and thick-feeling as it is. Castiel's breath huffs. He squeezes the fist of his left hand in Dean's jacket and he watches, eyes almost unseeing, the gold horned amulet bounce against Dean's chest as Dean digs the bullet from his arm. ]
Is that— Is... all this necessary?
[ Stitches, Dean had said. A transfusion, he'd mentioned. And he'd poured alcohol down Castiel's throat. This is what he does for himself, isn't it? Apparently Castiel isn't the only one not new to being shot. ]