“Before I tell you anything else, I need you to know that I’m okay,” you said quickly when dean answered the phone.
“Y/N what’s going on?” Dean asked gruffly. You could easily picture the scowl, the clench of his jaw, that worried look on his face. And it was only going to get worse.
“I’m in the hospital,” you said, wincing.
“What?!” Dean exclaimed angrily, making you drop your face into your hands. Oh, this was going to be so very terrible… “What happened?” he growled, but before you could even open your mouth to respond, he changed his mind. “Never mind. Just tell me where you are, I’ll be right there.”
You heard him long before you saw him. He was practically shouting down the hall looking for you, stomping along in those heavy boots of his. Finally someone must have told him where you were, because then the door was slamming open, and a whole lot of panicked Dean came barreling through.
“Are you okay?” He demanded, grabbing your face in his hands. His eyes were darting around, checking you for injuries. That was when he saw your knee. “What. Happened.”
“I fell Dean. I’m fine.”
“That doesn’t look fine.”
“I sprained it, okay? That’s all,” you reassured him, patting his arm. Thankfully he was interrupted as the doctor came in.
“Mrs. Winchester,” he began, glancing up from your chart, “oh, you must be her husband.” Dean shot you a glance, but he nodded instead of blowing your story. It had been the only way they would let him in to see you. “It looks like a pretty good sprain, but nothing too serious. I’d recommend advil and some ice, but otherwise just rest and try to keep your weight off it for a few days. If you’re not better in a couple weeks, we can explore other options, maybe do an MRI. Other than that, you’re free to leave.” The doctor shook each of your hands, and then he was gone again.
“Stay here and rest, I’ll go get the paperwork squared away,” Dean grumbled, still sounding angry despite the less-than-serious diagnosis.
“Bullshit…” you muttered as he left, reaching over for the crutches leaning against the wall. You hopped off the bed, wincing as your muscles protested the movement. They were sore, but nothing felt too bad, so you snatched up the crutches and limped out into the hall. Dean turned at the sound from where he stood at the nurses’ station and gave you a look so terrible you stopped in your tracks and briefly reconsidered your priorities. But then you clenched your jaw and continued hobbling over to him.
“What are you doing? Go sit down.”
“No. We’re leaving, come on.”
“You’re insane, you know that? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Screw you,” you retorted angrily, turning to go past him. But Dean reached out and snagged the back of your jacket, holding you in place as he signed the paperwork - with a fake name, so what the hell was the point? - and listened carefully to the nurse’s instructions.
“Hey,” Dean scolded when you tried to rip out of his grip, “seriously, will you calm down for two minutes?”
“I’ve been here for three hours,” you hissed, “I called you for a ride, so get me the hell out of here already!” Dean narrowed his eyes at you, but you just glared right back at him. When a muscle in his jaw twitched, you realized he was really mad. Well, shit.
“Fine. Let’s go,” he said tightly, gesturing for you to lead the way down the hall. It was slow going with the crutches, but soon enough the two of you were out in the parking lot and Dean opened the passenger door of the impala for you.
“I don’t need help,” you snapped when he went to grab your arm and help you into the car. Dean growled something under his breath, crossing his arms and watching you struggle until one of the crutches slipped and you went plummeting towards the ground. Strong arms caught you, and then you were pulled against Dean’s chest in a tight embrace. Before you could say anything, Dean was speaking, his voice right in your ear.
“I know you don’t need help, okay? But you also don’t need to do this by yourself. Let me help, sweetheart.” You pulled back and looked up at him, green eyes sincere, his expression worried. When you finally nodded, Dean cracked a smile and kissed your forehead, helping you into the car.
Submitted by @jesstherebel
