Blood dripped down your forehead, warm and sticky, as you sat on the hospital bed, trying to focus on anything but the throbbing pain in your skull.

Dean was right beside you, his metal hand gripping yours tightly while his other gently rested on your knee. His jaw was tense, blue eyes filled with worry as he watched the medic clean the wound.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he muttered, voice low but tight with emotion. “One second you were fine, the next you were on the ground, bleeding.”

You gave him a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve had worse.”

“Not the point,” he shot back instantly, eyes narrowing. “You should’ve told me you felt dizzy before you collapsed.”

The medic interrupted before you could respond, carefully threading the first stitch through your skin. You winced, squeezing Dean’s hand, and immediately, he leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your hand, letting you squeeze his hand as tight as you need to.

“I got you,” he murmured, voice softer now. “I’m right here.”

And he stayed there, holding your hand the whole time, refusing to leave your side for even a second.