This is based on the prompt: "Imagine patching Dean up after a hunt you both went on and he tells you "I'm proud of us.'"
The motel door unlocked and we fell into the room. I tossed the keys aside and limped to the bathroom, emerging with the first aid kit. Sam was gently setting Dean on one of the beds. Those shifters had done a number on him. Sam was looking a little worse for wear but would be alright. Myself, I had a few bumps and bruises but nothing that would require stitches.
For Dean it was a different story.
A deep gash traced from deltoid to inner elbow; the shifter had bitten his leg and it was already turning yellow with puss oozing out; dried blood was everywhere. We had taken care of the monster, thankfully, before anyone else got even more injured.
Sam grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom, muttering about cleaning himself up. A minute later the shower was heard. I turned to Dean and sucked in a deep breath. Where to even start? The jeans were trashed anyways so I cut the leg off at the knee.
"Hey, I like these!"
"You can make them into shorts, then, princess," I replied, concentrating on cleaning the wound. As the alcohol was poured on he caught himself from wincing but I grimaced empathetically.
"Dean, you need to stop running blindly after things," I pulled the bandages out and began wrapping them over the bite marks on his calf. "One day Sam or I might get there a little bit too late and there won't be any Dean to save."
His face contorted briefly. "If I can keep you and Sammy from getting hurt then I'm going to do it."
"You always say that. But we were fine. If the three of us had stuck together we would have been able to corner it and nobody would have gotten hurt." Finished with his leg, I carefully pulled the t-shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. I felt his stare on my face but focused on the cut running along his bicep. I glanced up and caught his eye, unable to break away. His gaze was paralyzing me in place. Then he smiled; not the half smirk that drives me insane, but a genuine smile that is not often seen on Dean Winchester's face.
"What is it?"
"I'm proud of us," he said simply.
"The only thing that you should be proud about from that hunt is that none of us were killed," I huffed, the irritancy tingeing my voice. I continued addressing his injuries but met his gaze again when Dean continued to explain himself.
"No, I'm not talking about that. I mean us—" he gestured with his good arm to the space between our bodies. "I'm proud that we have been able to make whatever relationship we share work out. I never thought it possible for a hunter to have a close connection with anyone—especially considering the way we live. But somehow you have managed to put up with me and Sam. I know that you hate it when I drink too much and when I get in one of my moods. I am sorry. But you stayed by my side through everything. I am so grateful that you chose to stay."
The smile on my face could not be wiped away even if somebody were to hit me. I finished wrapping the bandage. My hand ran over his shoulder, stopping at the nape of his neck.
"Somehow we make it work out, don't we?" I pressed my lips to his. It was a gentle kiss, like we had all the time in the world. Like there were no more monsters and demons. Like one day we could have a real future together. Maybe even have a family.
When we pulled apart our foreheads rested together.
"Besides," I murmured, "Who else would patch you up if I left?"