I noticed that Castiel is usually the one to get roughed up, so I thought I'd try turning things around for a change. No, I don't intentionally beat them up, that's just where a lot of my plot bunnies end up.

PSA: This is a three-shot.

Enjoy!

Dean put the Impala in park, cutting the engine and climbing out. He glanced around their apartment complex as he went around to the passenger side, pulling out his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He slammed that door shut, then went around to pop the trunk. Inside were half a dozen bags full of groceries, half of which he needed to get into the fridge sooner before later.

He picked up the one with the milk first, going to climb the wrought iron stairs. Their apartment complex had two levels, each second level unit with their own set of steps leading up to the front door landing. He fished a set of keys from his pocket as he climbed, stumbling twice because of the distraction. He was always clumsy, something his mate never tired of teasing him about. For some reason he'd been gifted with the ability to trip over flat surfaces and find an amazing number of things to bruise himself on over the years. Like he needed the help.

Absently reaching up to push his glasses back up his nose, he jiggled his house key out of the mess and jammed it into the lock. They were black, thick, horn rimmed things, but his eyes were so bad the lenses he needed were thick, and these frames were the only ones he could use that he actually liked to some degree. They were annoying, but contacts had never worked for him and he hadn't worked himself up to Lasik yet. That and it wasn't exactly what one might call 'in the budget'. Not when both he and his mate were working while he took classes.

When Dean did get the door open he shouldered his way through, glancing around. "Cas?"

There wasn't a response, but the TV was on, and it was Saturday afternoon. Castiel didn't work Saturdays unless there were extra shifts to pick up. This was actually why he'd been at the library most of the day, so he could finish assignments in silence. When the Alpha was home, you knew it.

Huffing, annoyed, Dean stomped through the living room to the kitchen, dumping his backpack into a kitchen chair and pulling open the fridge. "Could you help me?" he asked loudly, plunking the jug on the fridge's shelf before pushing the door shut.

"Busy," came the bored reply from their bedroom.

"Why did you leave Dr. Sexy on if you're busy?" Dean asked, marching back through the apartment.

By the time he came back in with more groceries Castiel had wandered out, leaning against the doorframe as Dean put more things in the fridge and freezer. Dean waited until the sealed doors were both firmly closed before straightening, turning to regard his mate. Castiel's attire knew very little variation, unless he was forced to attend something that required something a step up from jeans. The dark denim pants he now wore were frayed at the hems, ripped and tattered. Scuffed boots and a ratty gray t-shirt that Dean thought might have once been white complemented the look. Well, that and the tattoos. Dozens of them ran up the Alpha's arms from his wrists, disappearing under his shirt. More were hidden under his clothes, but the five facial piercings and black eyeliner were clearly visible. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers.

Dean made a face. "Could you do that outside?"

"I was. You wanted me in here," Castiel drawled, amused.

The Omega sighed, turning away. "Never mind. It's just one more trip anyway. Take that back outside, would you?"

Castiel smirked, turning away as Dean went back out the front door. There was a small patio on the other side of the unit, looking out over the highway. The Omega didn't like that his mate smoked, wasn't a fan of the taste either, but Castiel had agreed not to do it in their shared living space. They'd also invested a good deal in things like Febreze and mouthwash. Periodically he'd tried to quit, but it never lasted more than a month. The Alpha wasn't the pack-a-day sort, thank gods, but Dean could always tell what kind of day his mate was having by how many he went through.

Dean got out the remaining groceries, shoving the trunk shut and climbing back up the steps. He was almost to the top when the gratingly familiar voice of Ms. Johnson reached his ears. "Yoo-hoo! Can I speak with you?"

The Omega stopped one step short of the top, trying not to let his shoulders visibly slump. Easily one of the most avoided people in their complex, the current head of the HOA, Ms. Johnson was a very grating person. Dean didn't hate just anybody, but he could almost hate that Beta. Castiel certainly did. She didn't like people who weren't to a certain standard, and the Alpha didn't meet it by any stretch of the imagination. Funny enough, she liked Dean just fine, but she was actively trying to get Castiel kicked out.

Dean was reluctantly turning to face the Beta when his foot caught on the last step. It threw off his balance enough that he stumbled, bags falling from his hands as he tried to stabilize himself. Unfortunately one of the bags hit the foot he'd just put down on a lower step, the one with a jug of laundry detergent. He yelped, grabbing for the rail, only to stare in horror as he toppled backwards, the rail narrowly missing his grasping fingers.

Dean tried to catch himself, grab the railing, something. Instead he tumbled all the way down, something that was surprisingly loud. He thought he heard metal shriek, only to realize the sound was human. Well, no one had ever accused Ms. Johnson of being calm in a crisis.

One of the steps smacked into his temple all the way down, spots flashing behind his eyes. A buzz started ringing in his ears after that, the bumps hurting far less than they should. It was just as well, he hit a lot of body parts on the way down. He'd be black and blue for days, weeks, he just knew it.

The spectacle ended at the stair's base, when concrete smacked into his face. Only then did Dean notice the painful stinging around his eyes, not to mention the fact that his left arm felt...funny. Everything hurt, the air knocked from his lungs, the shock of initial pain making it difficult to suck in air. He wanted to know just how bad it was, but it was hard to make a guess when Ms. Johnson wouldn't stop shrieking. Couldn't she do something useful, like walk away? Maybe call 911? Suddenly Castiel's desire to have her walk off a roof one day didn't seem quite so undeserved.

"Dean!"

The Omega stirred, trying to sit up at his mate's voice. He sounded upset. Unfortunately the movement sent a jolt of pain up his shoulder, making him suck in a sharp gasp.

"Dean, don't move." The Alpha turned, yelling back at the Beta, "Would you shut the hell up?" In a lower, calmer tone he coaxed, "Don't move. Don't open your eyes either."

"Eyes?" Dean mumbled, reluctantly obeying. Castiel was gingerly lifting his body from the ground, moving him so his legs came off the bottom step and propping him against the building.

"Yeah, your glasses are broken. There's shards...just keep them closed, alright love?"

"My arm," the Omega protested, trying to pull away from the dirty brick. "Something's wrong with it."

"Yes, it looks dislocated. Damn it Dean, I said don't move."

"Can you put it back?" he asked weakly.

"Yeah, just hold still, alright?"

Dean nodded, winced, then bit an already bloodied lip as Castiel repositioned his arm.

"On three, alright?"

"'Kay."

"One- "

"Ah! What happened to two and three?" Dean protested, eyes cracking open.

"It's better this way, Dean, trust me. How's it feel?"

Dean opened his mouth to utter a sharp retort, but hesitated. "Better," he admitted, surprised, opening his eye a little more. The pain was hardly gone, but it was no longer so intense.

"Good. What else'd you hit?"

"My head."

"I noticed." Callused fingers gripped his chin, his hold firm but gentle. Castiel turned his head one way, then the other. "You're going to have a wicked shiner. Looks like you hit some of the shards into your face. I think I can get some of the bigger pieces out. Want me to try?"

"Can you get me inside first? I don't want to hear her start shrieking again."

Castiel hummed what sounded like an agreement. He straightened, then reached down to pull the Omega upright. One foot wouldn't support his weight, but otherwise he could stand just fine. "Like hell you're going inside. You're going to the hospital."

"Don't they charge a lot?"

"Probably. It doesn't matter. You need a doctor."

"Cas, I'm fine. A few bandages and an ice pack- "

"You're going to the fucking doctor, Dean," the Alpha informed him, tone hard. "Come on, watch your step. It's probably just sprained. How the hell did you fall?"

"Distracted," Dean mumbled.

"By what?"

"Queen bitch." It was Castiel's preferred title for the HOA head. Normally he never used it, but Dean wasn't very charitable when he was in pain.

"Remind me to kill her when we get back," the Alpha stated, gingerly folding him into the Impala's passenger seat.

"Cas- "

"Don't give me that." The door slammed shut as he hurried around, going to shut and lock their door before bounding back down and climbing in behind the wheel. "It's her fault. I told you we should have tried to get a ground unit."

"I remember."

"You're not supposed to carry a bunch of crap up at once, either. And if the queen bitch starts screeching you ignore her."

"That's rude, Cas."

"Rude? You're all busted up and you're worried about being rude?" the Alpha demanded.

Dean stopped talking after that. He closed his eyes, waiting out the rest of the drive, fully aware of his seething mate. Codling wasn't exactly Castiel's go-to method when he was angry. Not to mention they'd have doctors' bills to deal with after this, and another pair of glasses. He had spares, but they were old, scratched and not the current prescription. Both of them worked, Castiel as a manager at Gas 'N Sip across the highway while Dean took shifts at the local mechanic's shop. At his mate's insistence he was a full-time student, which cut things closer than he would have liked but they were able to pay rent every month. Dean didn't like the idea of adding doctor's bills to the list of expenses. The tuition alone always had them down to things like instant noodles and PB&J's for a month every semester.

The Omega lifted his head when the Impala finally lurched into park. He reached out to open the door, only to stare in shock at his hands. His right hand must have gotten cut on the way down, there was a long line on the side of his palm dripping blood.

"Damn it Dean," the Alpha growled, slamming his door.

Dean flinched, waiting for him to haul open the door to carefully climb out. From there it was a short limp to the ER's doors, sliding open as Castiel brought him across the threshold. The Omega kept his head down, avoiding the eyes he felt on him. He wasn't a fool, he knew that in a situation like this the first thing that'd come to mind was a beating. Namely by an angry Alpha. It was the one thing he couldn't get used to, how people reacted to Castiel.

The Alpha helped him over to a chair, lowering him down gingerly before striding over to the desk. Dean lifted his head, peering around a little. His vision was reduced to smudges and vague blurs, but he got the sense there was roughly eight people in the waiting room. Wincing, he looked down at his hand. Blood was starting to drip to the floor at his feet. Had he dripped in Baby too? His left shoulder ached, if in a more dulled fashion, so did the rest of his body. No doubt he'd be black and blue come morning, never mind his busted foot.

Castiel was talking, he sounded angry. Dean couldn't really make out what. His head was swimming. How much blood had he lost?

He had just realized he was starting to sway in his seat when someone put a hand on his bad shoulder. The Omega shifted, lifting his head a little as someone not his mate sat next to him. Dean lifted his head a little more to peer at them, blinking in an effort to clear his vision. Normally he would squint, but that hurt too much right now. It was a miracle he hadn't gotten glass in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" a soft female voice whispered. "Who did this to you?"

"I did this to myself. Why are you whispering?"

"You don't need to cover for him, you know. I work with B.M.A., I can help you."

Dean bristled, jaw clinching. She wasn't the first to mention that, as grating as it was. B.M.A., Battered Mates Aid, was an invaluable organization he knew, but it annoyed him that people made such assumptions. Castiel would never hurt him. He wouldn't have mated the Alpha otherwise.

"I'm not...I'm clumsy, my hands were full and I got distracted. He didn't do this to me."

The Beta put more pressure on his shoulder, probably to be insistent. A jolt of white-hot pain shot down his arm and up his spine, knocking the breath out of his lungs. "That was dislocated twenty minutes ago," he stated in a strained voice.

Her hand flew away as boots stalked across the linoleum. "Dean? Is she bothering you?"

"She's worrying over nothing."

"Are you his mate?" the Beta asked, rising to her feet.

Whatever they said after that Dean had no idea. His ears were ringing too much, his vision temporarily going blank. He could feel himself swaying in his chair, his bloody fingers slipping when he tried to grab the arm.

"Cas," he mumbled weakly. "I don't...feel...so..."

"Damn it I told you he's losing blood over here!" Hands caught his face, fingers pressing to his pulse. "Dean, come on stay with me. Where's that doctor?"

Dean was vaguely aware of the proceedings, but he did manage to stay conscious. Once they stopped eyeing Castiel with suspicion long enough to notice Dean was dripping blood in their waiting room they took prompt care of him. Someone cleaned and dressed his wounds, though the cut in his hand needed stitches. A C.T. scan confirmed he had a minor concussion, which explained his headache. Every little shard of glass was removed from his face, a sling secured to his bad arm, a booted brace put on his twisted ankle, and at some point a nurse gave him some very powerful pain medication with a prescription for more.

It took well over an hour before they were able to leave, though thanks to the medication they had to roll him out to the Impala via wheelchair. A crutch went in the backseat, and Castiel parked long enough to call in the medication. That done he drove them home, and Dean found himself in a very light mood now that the pain was gone.

"How many stitches did he say it took again?" the Omega asked, squinting at his hand.

"Thirteen."

"Hey Cas?"

"Yes?"

"You're awesome. Ya know that?"

He heard his mate chuckle. "So you've told me."

"Well, you are. Hey, can we get some pie?"

"Sure. What kind would you like?"

"I dunno. What kind do you think they'll have?"

"I'll check the bakery section before I pick up your prescription," Castiel promised. "The doctor said you needed to take it on a full stomach anyway."

"It's like when people ask me what kind of pie's my favorite," Dean complained. "I can't choose."

"Then I'll get more than one. I'll also see if they have chicken pot pie, maybe quiche."

A dreamy smile crossed Dean's face before reality hit. "Can we afford that? We're already going to have doctor's bills, and the new glasses. I need to call the optometrist. Do you think they're still open?"

"I already called them. I'll pick up your new glasses tomorrow. All you need to do is call work."

"I can't," Dean protested. "I can do paperwork, or just work on tires or something."

"No, Dean. You're to stay off that foot until it's properly healed. I intend to keep you sufficiently drugged until then. You can still go to classes but you're not working on it. The longer you rest the faster you'll heal."

"I need to work," Dean protested, peering at the blur of colors that was his mate. "It's bad enough I'm costing us so much as it is without our income taking a hit."

"Dean, enough. You have plenty of paid leave time you've never used, and I'm sure Bobby will understand. Hasn't he been after you to take time off anyway?"

"Maybe," he admitted, pouting out the window. Later he'd blame the loopy state the drugs had put him in.

"I'll call him, then. And I'll drop off that doctor's note when I get your glasses. It'll be fine, we'll be fine. Alright?"

Dean slumped in his seat. He knew that tone. Castiel had decided to be stubborn. He'd be very difficult to dissuade now. It wasn't often his mate dug in his heels like this, but once he did it often took a great deal of effort to change his mind. Effort that Dean was in no shape to exert.

"'M kay," he grumbled. "Can you…get Jell-O too? Technically I'm sick, since I'm taking medicine."

"Sure," Castiel agreed, tone softening. "What kind would you like?"

Dean still felt out of it when they got home. Castiel helped him up the steps, one by one, to their front door. By then he was muttering about plans to get them into a first-floor apartment like he'd wanted originally. But that hadn't been available at the time and Dean had thought his Alpha was being overprotective.

"Don't wanna move," he mumbled as he hobbled into the living room. Castiel had decided he was too unstable to use the crutch yet, so he had his good arm over the Alpha's shoulders. "Tired of moving. You promised we'd be here until we could afford a house." A promise his mate had made knowing just how much John had moved them around as a kid, and how much Dean hated it. This was the first place they'd had together, the plan being to remain there until they could buy a house.

"I know, love," Castiel told him gently. "I'm sorry, but we never should have taken a unit with stairs in the first place."

"It was an accident."

Castiel lowered him down onto the couch, then took the Omega's face in his hands. He pressed his lips to one of the bruise-free parts of Dean's cheek, the barely-there tender touch sending a pleasant shiver down his spine despite the drugs. He gazed up at his mate, for all his face was still a series of colored smudges.

"This never should have happened," Castiel whispered. "You're lucky. You could have broken your spine, your skull….as bad off as you are now it could have been so much worse. I love you and I could have easily lost you today. Forgive me if I'm a little over protective."

"I love you too," Dean informed him with a dopey grin. "I know I don't say it a lot, 'cause I suck at words, but I do. You're awesome, Cas, and I love you."

The Alpha chuckled, lightly brushing his lips against Dean's cut ones before drawing away. He went and fetched Dean's scratched spare glasses, carefully sliding them onto the Omega's face. He made sure to leave the remote and Dean's cell within reach, along with a can of soda with orders to text should he need or want anything.

Dean was still watching Dr. Sexy reruns when he returned, bags in hand. Castiel put two chicken pot pies in the oven, poured some of the juice he'd bought to keep his mate on a steady stream of fluids, and stepped back out. The Omega didn't think much about it until he came back just at the oven timer went off, when his first dose had started to wear off.

"Where'd you go?" he mumbled, trying to minimize the movement of his sore face.

Castiel set a tray over his legs, glancing up at his face. "The front office. The people in 15A are letting their lease expire next month when they move out."

"15A?" Dean mumbled, staring at the tray. The pie sat neatly on one of their plates, a napkin tucked next to it beneath a fork. "We're 18A." Odd numbers were first floor units, evens were second floor units. The buildings equated to letters.

"Yes, we wouldn't even have to get a truck. Just find enough friends to help with the heavy stuff. They've agreed to transfer the lease from one unit to another. Considering the conditions of the accident they're not even charging."

"They were afraid we'd sue?"

"Since one of their live-in employees caused this, yes."

"She told 'em?"

"I did. They were very cooperative after that. Eat, you need to take another dose."

Dean carefully picked up his fork, prodding holes in the pie's top, steam curling out. "If I'd just ignored her this wouldn't have happened."

"It's not your fault," Castiel sighed. He set a second tray on their coffee table, dishes clattering. "Please stop insisting otherwise. You're in no condition to be disciplined accordingly."

Heat not from the pie warmed Dean's face. He busied himself nibbling on one bites were cool enough to do so, listening as his Alpha switched to one of the old Star Trek movies. Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, to be exact. One of his favorites.

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