Dean Winchester was the most stubborn, reckless, pain-in-the-ass man on the face of the planet.

You knew that before today. But watching him stumble out of a hospital, barely able to stand, just to avoid dying in a damn hospital bed? That took the cake.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” you hissed, gripping his arm as he swayed on his feet.

Dean winced, clearly in pain, but had the nerve to smirk. “C’mon, sweetheart. Thought you liked bad boys.”

You wanted to strangle him. Right then and there.

Instead, you threw his arm over your shoulders and practically dragged him toward the Impala, ignoring the way his legs barely cooperated.

“You are—without a doubt—the most infuriating person I have ever met,” you snapped.

Dean groaned, resting his head against your shoulder. “Thanks, babe. Love you too.”

“You’re not dying in some motel, Dean,” you growled. “If I have to tie you to a damn bed, I swear to God—”

Dean chuckled weakly. “Kinky.”

You almost dropped him.

When you finally got him in the passenger seat, you crouched in front of him, grabbing his face so he’d look at you. His skin was too pale, too cold, and his usually sharp green eyes were unfocused.

And still, the idiot smiled at you.

“I don’t wanna die in a hospital,” he murmured.

Your throat tightened.

“Then you’re not gonna die at all,” you shot back, voice shaking despite how hard you tried to keep it steady. “You hear me, Winchester? You don’t get to just check out and leave us. Leave me.”

Dean’s smirk faltered.

For a second, his hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for you. But he didn’t.

Instead, he just held your gaze, swallowing hard. “I hear you.”

“Good,” you muttered, standing up. “Now sit tight. Sam’s gonna find us a way out of this.”

Dean closed his eyes, head resting against the seat. “If he finds another demon deal, I’m kicking his ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you die, I’m kicking your ass.”

Dean let out a weak laugh.

“Fair deal, sweetheart."