Dean's less worried about the broken arm than he his the eight inch gash along his midsection. Just because it was stitched up and Cas wasn't bleeding on the floor didn't mean they were entirely out of the woods yet. There was still a great chance for infection, which was largely why they'd been holed up in the same hotel room since the accident, rather than leaving.

Actually, Cas's bandages probably needed changed tonight, while he's on the subject, but it could wait until later this evening. The angel couldn't exactly do it himself with a broken arm, and Dean's done his fair share of mending- on both himself, Sam, and his Dad in the past.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling when Stupid tried to reach forward with his broken arm, shook his head but didn't say anything. It was like watching a kid stick a fork in a light socket. Sure, you could tell them not to, but the only way they're really gonna learn is through experience. Cas needed this, to figure out what not to do in the future. Avoiding pain was something most humans learned in childhood, through bumps and scrapes. Cas was going to have to figure it out the hard way.

He rounded the bed, hopped up on it beside Cas, completely inconsiderate to jostling him.

"Gun maintenance. You're gonna learn to clean 'em, how they work, and then how to shoot 'em. You can't exactly go all smitey on shit now, time to fall back on Old Faithful."