Fic: Home for Christmas (Supernatural) 3/4
Title: Home for Christmas
Characters: Sam, Bobby
Chapter Word Count: 1047
Rating: R
Warnings: Descriptions of rape and sexual events of a semi-graphic nature
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own.
Summary: Based on the OhSam Triple Play prompt: Sioux Falls/Bobby/Sexual Assault. Sam just needed a place to lie low for a while. Bobby's salvage yard was the only place he could think of where he thought he'd be welcome.
“What the hell happened in here?”
Sam stared up at him. Bobby had never seen a look of fear directed at him like that before. It made him feel about ten inches high and he wasn’t even sure what he had done. “It’s not what it looks like. I swear,” Sam said and Bobby’s gut clenched. “I dropped my razor. It caught my palm. I can’t find anything to wrap it in.”
Bobby swore, seeing the razor in question in the bowl of the sink. “And you couldn’t’ve hollered?” He said, grabbing up a spare hand towel.
Sam jerked his hand away. “Don’t ruin your towel!”
“Forget the damn towel. You’re bleeding!”
Bobby wrapped his hand, flipped the toilet lid down, and pushed him to sit on the seat. “Stay. Leave that hand wrapped and don’t you dare move from there until I get back.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam muttered.
Bobby scrambled to grab his kit and get back to Sam. By the time he did, there was already a lot of blood seeping into the towel. “How deep did that actually get you?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. It didn’t feel that deep, but it was pretty long.”
Bobby grunted and motioned for the hand. “I’ve got to take a look. You’re probably going to need stitches. Try to hold still so I don’t hurt you more than I have to.”
Sam offered up his hand and Bobby unwrapped it as gently as he could. Sam winced, but didn’t jerk away. The gash was long. It started just under his left index finger and ran down, over the heel of his hand onto his wrist. An inch more to the left and they would have been making a trip to the hospital. “Damn boy. You did it good didn’t you?”
Sam glanced at his own hand and turned a little green.
“You gonna puke on me?”
Sam swallowed and looked away. He shook his head but Bobby wasn’t convinced. “I’ve got to stitch this up. It’s going to hurt. If you got to puke, you warn me. I don’t want to make it worse ‘cause you moved on me.”
Sam nodded, still not looking at the gash. Bobby took up his needle and set to work. As he sewed, he tried to distract Sam. “What were you doing in here?”
“I just wanted a shower.” He could hear a hint of frustration in Sam’s voice.
Bobby glanced around and sure enough, the kid’s duffle sat behind the door and he had pulled a towel out to hang over the rack. His kit was lying spilled across the sink. Seeing the evidence relaxed the tight knot of worry that had clenched in Bobby’s gut. He wasn’t convinced that Sam hadn’t done it on purpose, he’d been acting strangely withdrawn lately, but all signs pointed to it being an accident.
“And you didn’t yell when you hurt yourself?”
Sam shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Sam, son. Listen. You’re not bothering me. I’d rather you not bleed out in my bathroom when I’ve got a first aid kit and can patch you up.” He worked in silence for a minute before he realized Sam’s breathing had gone a little harsh again. “Sam?”
He glanced up and found Sam staring at the floor, tears welling in his eyes.
“Sam, take a breath for me. You’re fine. I’m almost done. It’ll heal up just fine.”
Sam nodded, not really calming. “Sam,” Bobby said sternly. Sam froze. “I get that you’re freaked out, but I need you to try to calm down,” he said as he set the last stitch.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.
“For what?”
“For being so much trouble.”
“You’re not trouble.”
“I shouldn’t have come here,” Sam continued. “I just - I couldn’t stay there any longer and I didn’t know where else to go. Dad said stay gone and even if he did let me come back, he’d never let me leave again and I just needed out.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Bobby said quietly. He cleaned the hand and gently wrapped it in gauze. When he was done, he moved to look Sam in the eye, bending down awkwardly. “I’m not mad and I’m not kicking you out. But something’s going on, Sam. You need to tell me what happened.”
Sam’s head dipped even further. “I can’t,” he whispered.
Bobby took a deep breath. When he felt a little calmer he asked, “Why not.”
“Because you won’t want anything to do with me once you know.”
“Sam, look at me.” He wait for Sam to look at him. “I promise there’s nothing you can say that will make me not want you here.”
“You’ll think I’m disgusting. I am disgusting.”
“I doubt that.” They sat that way another minute. “Sam? What happened?”
< --- Chapter 4>>
Characters: Sam, Bobby
Chapter Word Count: 1047
Rating: R
Warnings: Descriptions of rape and sexual events of a semi-graphic nature
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own.
Summary: Based on the OhSam Triple Play prompt: Sioux Falls/Bobby/Sexual Assault. Sam just needed a place to lie low for a while. Bobby's salvage yard was the only place he could think of where he thought he'd be welcome.
“What the hell happened in here?”
Sam stared up at him. Bobby had never seen a look of fear directed at him like that before. It made him feel about ten inches high and he wasn’t even sure what he had done. “It’s not what it looks like. I swear,” Sam said and Bobby’s gut clenched. “I dropped my razor. It caught my palm. I can’t find anything to wrap it in.”
Bobby swore, seeing the razor in question in the bowl of the sink. “And you couldn’t’ve hollered?” He said, grabbing up a spare hand towel.
Sam jerked his hand away. “Don’t ruin your towel!”
“Forget the damn towel. You’re bleeding!”
Bobby wrapped his hand, flipped the toilet lid down, and pushed him to sit on the seat. “Stay. Leave that hand wrapped and don’t you dare move from there until I get back.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam muttered.
Bobby scrambled to grab his kit and get back to Sam. By the time he did, there was already a lot of blood seeping into the towel. “How deep did that actually get you?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. It didn’t feel that deep, but it was pretty long.”
Bobby grunted and motioned for the hand. “I’ve got to take a look. You’re probably going to need stitches. Try to hold still so I don’t hurt you more than I have to.”
Sam offered up his hand and Bobby unwrapped it as gently as he could. Sam winced, but didn’t jerk away. The gash was long. It started just under his left index finger and ran down, over the heel of his hand onto his wrist. An inch more to the left and they would have been making a trip to the hospital. “Damn boy. You did it good didn’t you?”
Sam glanced at his own hand and turned a little green.
“You gonna puke on me?”
Sam swallowed and looked away. He shook his head but Bobby wasn’t convinced. “I’ve got to stitch this up. It’s going to hurt. If you got to puke, you warn me. I don’t want to make it worse ‘cause you moved on me.”
Sam nodded, still not looking at the gash. Bobby took up his needle and set to work. As he sewed, he tried to distract Sam. “What were you doing in here?”
“I just wanted a shower.” He could hear a hint of frustration in Sam’s voice.
Bobby glanced around and sure enough, the kid’s duffle sat behind the door and he had pulled a towel out to hang over the rack. His kit was lying spilled across the sink. Seeing the evidence relaxed the tight knot of worry that had clenched in Bobby’s gut. He wasn’t convinced that Sam hadn’t done it on purpose, he’d been acting strangely withdrawn lately, but all signs pointed to it being an accident.
“And you didn’t yell when you hurt yourself?”
Sam shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Sam, son. Listen. You’re not bothering me. I’d rather you not bleed out in my bathroom when I’ve got a first aid kit and can patch you up.” He worked in silence for a minute before he realized Sam’s breathing had gone a little harsh again. “Sam?”
He glanced up and found Sam staring at the floor, tears welling in his eyes.
“Sam, take a breath for me. You’re fine. I’m almost done. It’ll heal up just fine.”
Sam nodded, not really calming. “Sam,” Bobby said sternly. Sam froze. “I get that you’re freaked out, but I need you to try to calm down,” he said as he set the last stitch.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.
“For what?”
“For being so much trouble.”
“You’re not trouble.”
“I shouldn’t have come here,” Sam continued. “I just - I couldn’t stay there any longer and I didn’t know where else to go. Dad said stay gone and even if he did let me come back, he’d never let me leave again and I just needed out.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Bobby said quietly. He cleaned the hand and gently wrapped it in gauze. When he was done, he moved to look Sam in the eye, bending down awkwardly. “I’m not mad and I’m not kicking you out. But something’s going on, Sam. You need to tell me what happened.”
Sam’s head dipped even further. “I can’t,” he whispered.
Bobby took a deep breath. When he felt a little calmer he asked, “Why not.”
“Because you won’t want anything to do with me once you know.”
“Sam, look at me.” He wait for Sam to look at him. “I promise there’s nothing you can say that will make me not want you here.”
“You’ll think I’m disgusting. I am disgusting.”
“I doubt that.” They sat that way another minute. “Sam? What happened?”
< --- Chapter 4>>