fic: Little Blue Pills
SPN, gen
Warning for language
Words: approx. 8000
I own nothing.
Written (very belatedly) for LaueHime's comment fic meme, for firesign10's prompt: Dean has been having a bit of a dry spell with the ladies. Hunting has sapped his....joie de vivre, so to speak. He decides to pop some Viagra before hitting a bar. Unfortunately, he strikes out. Not only does he have the boner that won't quit, it's that boner from the warnings - "if you have an erection lasting 4 hours or more, go to the doctor!". He's horrified to confess his problem to Sam, but he doesn't want to permanently injure his dick either. Finally Sam, aware that something is wrong but not knowing what, weasels it out of Dean.
(So, I MOSTLY followed the prompt, except I do let Dean have a little bit of fun in this...but just a little :) Set early season 2.)
Little Blue Pills
If he had to pinpoint the exact time frame that his 'little problem' first presented itself, Dean would probably have to say that it was shortly following the accident, sometime during those first couple of weeks after his father's death. It really just started as a general loss of interest in the few things in life that used to give him any semblance of pleasure...his problems on the sexual front seemed to be just one part of the equation.
At first, Dean handled the issue the same way he handled every other fucked-up situation in his life - he simply tried not to think about it, and hoped it would just would go the hell away. Yeah right, like that ever worked out for him.
Dean was relieved that Jo had bought into all of that "wrong place, wrong time" crap that he bullshitted her with. Really, he just wasn't sure that he'd be able to get it up - that is, if they ended up going that far. He doubted they would, even though it was obvious to Dean that she was smitten with him. She wasn't that kind of girl, that much Dean could tell. But just in case...
As he slowly started to mentally recover from his dad's death, Dean could finally feel some of the shattered fragments of his life slowly getting pieced back together - even as others were beginning to fall apart. But to his utter bafflement and dismay, his sexual frustrations persisted.
Dean still loved women, he really did. He thought about them incessantly (at least, when he wasn't thinking about either hunting or Sam), and he still found himself craving sex like a kid craves candy. It was just that his body didn't seem to be responding to his...urges, anymore. It was almost as if there was a lack of communication going on within his body - a disconnect between his brain and his dick, and if he was being honest with himself, it was starting to scare the hell out of him. Even his Busty Asian Beauties weren't doing it for him anymore.
It wasn't until the humiliating experience with that spunky brunette back in Omaha that Dean felt he had hit rock bottom. She was gorgeous - a smoking hot, petite little number, the type of girl that would normally cause Dean to sport a hard-on just by looking at her. Despite his reservations, Dean finally decided to go for broke that night, and accepted her invitation to stay the night at her place. They were only starting to approach third base when Dean came to the horrific realization that despite the tantalizing foreplay, he was still completely and utterly flaccid.
Dean escaped the situation the only way he could think of - he excused himself to the bathroom and texted Sam his emergency 'get-away' code, and Sam called Dean's cell so Dean could fake a family emergency, and get the hell out of the girl's house. Of course, he didn't tell Sam the real reason he needed to leave, but instead made up some bullshit story about finding a bottle of Herpexia on the girl's bedside table, which promptly made Sam lose any interest in pursuing the matter any further.
Dean just couldn't figure out why this fucked-up problem wasn't getting any better. He wondered if it had anything to do with that shot to the nuts he took during that clown fiasco in Medford. Or maybe he finally overdid it with the magic fingers, and it desensitized him or something. Was something like that even possible? Dean shuddered at the thought.
Whatever it was, there was no way in hell Dean was going to just sit back and let his stubborn-ass dick wreak havoc on his sex life. No freaking way. He just needed to find a way to get himself back in the game, was all. He likened the problem to a mechanical malfunction with the Impala - he just needed to jump start his batteries, or something. The analogy gave him hope.
Whatever he decided to do, he was going to have to figure it out on his own, because there was no way in hell he was going to discuss his, um...situation with his little brother.
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"Dean? You ready, man?"
Dean startled out of his thoughts, and realized that he and Sam had arrived at their destination- a beat-up, split-story brick house near the end of a dismal-appearing cul-de-sac.
Dean sighed. "Come on, Sam. I'm telling you, we're wasting our time with this one. This is definitely not our kind of problem, man."
Sam shrugged. "You're probably right. But we were in the neighborhood anyway, and we don't have any other jobs lined up yet. It's not going to hurt anything to just check it out, will it?"
Sam did have a point. Still, this trip felt like a monumental waste of time, as far as Dean was concerned. The case, so far, appeared to be an isolated incident - just a jealous wife who had hacked her cheating husband to death with a pick axe in their garage. Sure, she did get a bit...creative with her gardening tools after she had finished the job, but hell hath no fury, right? Completely and utterly disturbing? Hell yes. Supernatural? Dean didn't think so.
Sam and Dean slipped through the den window alongside the back of the house, then spilt up to investigate. Everything inside the dilapidated old house was just as Dean suspected- no EMF activity, no sulfur, nothing unusual to be found. Dean was in the bathroom rummaging through the medicine cabinet, when a small white box with a little blue stripe running down the side caught his eye. His eyes widened as he read the bolded words printed on the front of the box: VIAGRA.
Dean raised his eyebrows. The thought of seeking out The Big V had been on Dean's mind for quite some time now. In fact, Dean even did some late night, top-secret research on Sam's computer on several occasions, to see if he could figure out how to score some of those little blue pills without a prescription. He ultimately gave up on the idea, deciding that his risk of getting found out by his brother would be too great.
But now, Dean suddenly found himself face-to-face with the elusive little miracle drugs, and they were his for the taking. If Dean believed in that destiny crap at all, he would say that this was meant to be.
Dean spared a glance over his shoulder, and pulled the box out of the cabinet. He barely had time to give it a second glance before he heard footsteps coming towards the bathroom. Dean hastily pulled out the metal foil packaging, shoved the box back into the cabinet, and slid the pills into his pocket, just as Sam's gigantor head appeared from around the corner. "Find anything?"
Dean shook his head. "Not a damn thing. Come on, lets get the hell out of here."
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"You wanna grab some food before we pack up and hit the road?"
Dean glanced over his shoulder towards his brother, frowning. "Come on, Sam. It's getting late, we're in between jobs...lets just take a breather tonight, man."
Sam looked at Dean in surprise. "Really?"
Dean nodded. "Sure, why not?"
Sam shrugged. "No man, I...I think that's a great idea...I'm just surprised that you want to, that's all." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "We may have a hard time finding a decent place to eat around here, though...Let me see what I can find."
"No need to bother, Sammy. I've already got it covered. We're going back to Miss Molly's tonight."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Where?"
"Miss Molly's. You know, that little bar and grill we ate at a couple days ago."
Sam grimaced. "No way, dude. That place was a shithole, even for our standards, man. And the food tasted like cardboard. Moldy cardboard, at that."
Dean grinned. "Not going there for the food or the ambiance, Sammy. Do you remember Brandy? That little blonde waitress that was working the table next to us?"
"Brandy?" Sam frowned. "No, not really. I was distracted by the cockroach that was climbing up the wall next to my head. I've gotta say though, I'm impressed that you remembered her name. Shocked, actually." Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna pass, Dean. I'll grab a pizza back at the hotel or something."
Dean shrugged. "Whatever. Do what you want, but I'm going back to Molly's tonight, Sammy." Dean waggled his eyebrows towards Sam and turned his head back towards the road.
Sam rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his cheeks, as he listened to Dean break into a loud, cringe-worthy rendition of 'Good Golly, Miss Molly". He felt his spirits starting to lift, as he took in Dean's goofy display and rare cheerful disposition. It was an encouraging change from the brooding, depressive state his brother had been in, as of late. He had no idea what brought on the sudden shift in Dean's mood, but he wasn't about question it.
Dean pulled in front of the hotel to let Sam off. "Don't wait up for me tonight, Sammy." Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and gave Dean a halfhearted wave as he walked away.
After Sam was safely inside the hotel, Dean pulled the pills out of his pocket. He looked at the four little blue tablets in the metal foil packaging, and frowned. There were no instructions on the foil, just the words 'Viagra 100 mg tablets' and some manufacturer information or some other useless shit. He frowned. The only words that had registered to him when he glanced at the box back at the house were the words: 'half-an-hour to an hour prior to sex'.
Dean shrugged, deciding that this was all the information he really needed. It sounded simple enough, really. Pop a pill or two prior to Go Time, then sit back and wait for the magic to happen. Good enough for him. Dean stole a glance of himself in the rearview mirror, shoved the pills deep into his jacket pocket, and took off towards the bar and grill, his gut churning with mixed feelings of apprehension and newfound hope.
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A loud bark from outside the apartment woke Dean up with a start. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was at, as he attempted to gather his bearings in the midst of an inebriated haze.
The bar...hot waitress...Viagra...ooohh yeah, that's right.
Dean turned on his side, and was greeted by the sleeping form of Miss Molly's Finest, who had the appearance of lying on a cloud of ecstasy, a dreamy grin fixated on her face as she slept.
Yep, I knew it. I've still got it. Dean grinned, feeling more alive and validated in his manhood than he had in quite some time.
The night had gone perfectly according to plan. Dean popped a couple of Viagra at Molly's, about a half-hour before Brandy's shift ended. Just before they left the bar, he swallowed back another pill, for a little extra insurance.
Once he arrived to Brandy's house, Dean began to panic a little, worrying that the pills may not work for him after all. He certainly couldn't handle that kind of humiliation again. He excused himself to Brandy's bathroom and tossed back one more pill, just to be on the safe side.
His efforts had paid off in aces. It was one of the most amazing sexual encounters he had ever experienced - definitely on his top ten list, anyway - and judging by the raucous, carnal noises that exploded out of Brandy during their marathon lovemaking session, Dean was fairly certain that the feeling was mutual in this regard.
Dean grinned. He knew he could get this mess sorted out. All his dick needed was a little encouragement to get the ball rolling again. No big deal. Sam was none the wiser, and with any luck, Dean could soon forget any of this bullshit had ever happened. Dean rolled over on his back, rested his hands behind his head...and frowned.
Something was...not quite right. As Dean gazed down towards his feet, he realized he couldn't actually see his feet - there was an enormous bulge beneath the sheets obscuring his view. Dean had some serious tenting going on right now, much more so than he usually had during this stage of the proceedings.
And now that he was thinking about it, he was feeling kind of...warm. Dean swiped at the fine layer of sweat that was plastered on his forehead. Geez...Did it just get really fucking hot in here? Dean's face suddenly felt like it was burning up...and even more disturbingly, so did his genitals.
Dean winced as a dull, throbbing sensation started to pulsate through his balls. He reached a tentative hand beneath the sheets to investigate matters further, and his eyes widened. Not only was he fully and exaggeratedly erect, but his dick felt strangely tender to touch, and oddly rigid. As his hand migrated lower to his balls, Dean had to stifle a yelp as a sharp pain shot through his left testicle.
Ok, so...this was not good. Really not good. Dean had no freaking clue what the hell was happening to him, but it was definitely time to get the hell out of Dodge. Dean gingerly maneuvered himself out of bed, and pulled his boxers over his painfully erected penis. It was all he could do to keep from groaning in pain, as the pressure of the fabric pressed against his throbbing genitals. There was no way he was going to get his pants on, that was a given. He threw on his shirt, shoved his feet into his boots, and grabbed the rest of his clothes, as he waddled his way to the front door, then out to the Impala.
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Sam was sitting in front of his laptop sipping at his beer, when he heard the faint, distinct rumblings of the Impala outside the door. He frowned, and glanced at his watch. He hadn't expected to see his brother again until later in the morning. He heard Dean wrestling with the doorknob, a task which seemed to take considerably longer than it should have. Finally, his brother clumsily pushed his way through the door.
Sam nearly choked on his beer as he first caught a glimpse of his brother. Dean was...well, flushed was an inadequate word to describe the coloring of Dean's face at that very moment. He was red, an unnatural, tomato juice coloring that Sam had never seen the likes of on his brother before.
"Holy shit, Dean. What the hell happened to you?"
Dean grumbled incomprehensibly, then ducked his face away from Sam, as he slowly made his way into the room. Sam's jaw dropped open as Dean's bottom half came into view from behind the desk, and he saw that Dean wasn't wearing any pants. He was walking oddly, crouching downwards in a manner that exaggerated his already-bowlegged gait. He was hunched over at the waist, and had his back turned towards Sam, as he awkwardly maneuvered himself in the direction of the bathroom door. All-in-all, it was a ridiculous display, and Sam would have been laughing his ass off at his brother's efforts to hide God-knows-what-it-was, except for the bizarre tomato juice coloring to his skin.
Sam watched in stunned silence as Dean stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a few moments, Sam put down his beer, sighing. Warily, he made his way towards the bathroom, and knocked on the door. "Dean? What the hell, man?"
He heard a muffled groan from behind the door. "M'fine, Sam. Go away."
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Dean was anything but fine. Cringing, he pulled back the waistband of his boxers to take stock of the nightmare that was unfolding below. The massive erection he was sporting earlier hadn't gone down at all... In fact, if anything, it had increased in girth. Dean suppressed a groan as the painful throbbing sensation in his balls suddenly radiated through the entire length of his dick. What the holy mother of fuck...
"Dean...Open the door, man!"
"Screw off, Sam", Dean muttered under his breath. There was no way in hell his baby brother was going to be let in on this. Dean could fix this...somehow. But first, he had to get his nosy-ass brother away from the bathroom door so he could hash this thing out in peace. He tried as best he could to keep his voice steady. "I'm fine Sam, really. Just, uh, had too much to drink. M'not feeling too great... Need a little privacy here, dude."
His request was met with silence, and Dean could just picture Sam on the other side of the door, furrowing his eyebrows with that dopey, concerned look on his face. "Are you sure, man? Why's your face all red like that? And where the hell are your pants! Come on dude, just let me in."
"NO!" Dean was starting to panic a little. Sasquatch wasn't buying it. Not that he could blame him, he knew he hadn't exactly been the picture of discretion with this whole thing. Maybe he should have tried to wrestle his pants on over his dick after all. Dean's balls pulsated painfully in response to the thought.
And what was the hell was Sam talking about anyway...something about Dean's face being red? Curiously, Dean pulled up from his crouched position to spare a glance at himself in the mirror. He gasped loudly as his reflection came into view. "Holy shit!"
"What! What's wrong?"
"Nothing! Just...uh...nothing. I'm good!" Dean looked back up to the mirror, stricken. He was starting to have flashbacks of that one scene from that stupid movie that Sam used to like- what was it called again?- when that girl's face turned purple and then she blew up like a balloon, and those little orange men started tossing her around the room. Dean's face wasn't exactly purple, but it was a comical, unnatural shade of red. The last time he even came close to this particular hue was the time he fell asleep on the beach for four hours next to that spunky little lifeguard, after that vengeful spirit case he worked in Miami. But this was worse, so much worse.
"Nothing my ass, Dean. Open the damn door, or I'm coming in anyway."
Dean felt a flutter of panic rising in his chest. What the hell was happening to him? He was starting to think there was something supernatural going on in that house after all, and that Viagra he stole was fucking cursed or something. He wiped his forehead, a sheen of sweat covering his face. God, he was burning up.
Dean was seriously starting to think that he may need Sam to help him out on this one. He wasn't quite ready to resign himself just yet, though... There was one other matter to attend to first. "Alright Sam, just...give me a minute, alright? I gotta piss first."
"Yeah, right. You have two goddamn minutes, Dean."
Dean directed his middle finger towards the bathroom door, then stumbled over to the toilet. An odd feeling of impending doom washed over his body, as he prepared for the piss that he was pretty sure was not going to come out of him. It probably wasn't even physically possible, what with the monster hard-on he was sporting right now. He had to try though. The dire, overwhelming urge to relieve himself was killing him.
Dean hadn't expected the pissing attempt to be exactly pleasant, but nothing could have prepared him for the intense wave of pain that came over him as he bore down on his abdominal muscles whilst attempting to empty his bladder. Dean felt a strangulated scream escape his throat, as the painful throbbing in his dick suddenly morphed into a thousand tiny razor blades, and the sensation infiltrated his entire genital area, from the shaft all the way to the tip of his penis. His knees buckled and he felt them smack the cold linoleum of the bathroom floor. Through the haze of pain, Dean could barely make out the muffled, furious voice of his brother, and the rattling of a doorknob.
"Okay. Fuck this, Dean, I'm coming in there."
Several seconds later, Dean had collapsed into a sitting position against the wall across from the toilet. The pain had receded just as quickly as it had come over him, and the discomfort in his genitals returned to it's previous dull, throbbing baseline. Dean shook his head at his own stupidity.
Shouldn't have tried to piss...Bad idea, dude...Really bad idea.
Dean laboriously pulled himself back up into a standing position. His boxer shorts lay forgotten for the moment in a crumpled wad behind him, as Dean ever so delicately cradled his dick into his hands, just to reassure himself that his appendage was still fully attached, and in one piece. And it was at that very moment that Sam suddenly burst through the bathroom door.
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Sam made quick work of picking the lock on the bathroom door. Christ, his brother was one stubborn son of a bitch. Whatever sequence of events had occurred to find Dean hobbling into the hotel with no pants on in the middle of the night, Sam could only imagine - and didn't really want to, for that matter. But the sudden, painful cry from behind the door was the final straw in the matter.
As Sam shoved his way into the bathroom, he really had no clue what was going to be waiting for him on the other side of the door. But coming face-to-face with his brother, stark naked from the waist down with his hands fondling his fully erected dick, was not something he was prepared to handle.
"Whoa! What the fuck, dude..." Sam stumbled backwards a few steps, slamming his back into the bathroom wall in the process.
Sam turned around and scrubbed hard at his eyes with his palms. "You've got to be kidding me, Dean! Seriously? Do you really have to do that right now, man? With me standing outside the door, worrying about your ass?"
Dean cast Sam a horrified look, as he reached behind him to pick up his boxers, and awkwardly held them to his waist to shield himself against Sam's intruding eyes. "Dude! You're the one who came barging in here after I told you to leave me the hell alone!"
"You sounded like you were hurt or something. I didn't think you were doing....that. Jesus Christ, Dean! You're unbelievable, you know that?"
"Dude, can we....continue this conversation later? I'm kind of, uh..." As embarrassing as this situation was, Dean was determined to use this humiliating turn of events to his advantage. At least now he had an excuse to buy himself some more time to fix his problem. It certainly wasn't ideal, but it was an excuse nonetheless.
Sam finally spared a glance over his shoulder towards his big brother, flinching as he did so. "No, no we can't. Dude, have you even seen your face? You look like you're having some kind of weird allergic reaction or something. You're redder than a fucking tomato, man. What the hell happened to you tonight?"
Dean was beyond exasperated at this point. He couldn't believe Sam was attempting to have this conversation with Dean in his current state. "Dammit, Sam. Just...give me five freaking minutes here, then you can Dr. Quinn my ass all you want. But get the fuck outta here right now. Please?" Dean had to keep from cringing at the pleading quality of his voice.
The color of Sam's face was rapidly starting to rival that of Dean's. Sam pounded his fist on the bathroom sink, then stomped his way out the door. "You know what? That's just fine, Dean. Sorry for being concerned about you, you selfish asshole." Sam slammed the bathroom door, and Dean sighed in relief. He tensed up again and scowled, as the muffled yelling started up again from the other side of the door. "Just...Do whatever the hell you need to do, then get your ass out here so I can check you out. I'm serious Dean. That looks really bad."
Well, that could have gone better, Dean thought to himself. He was going to have to figure out how to square things with Sam later, but that would have to wait for now. With the bathroom finally to himself, Dean concentrated his full efforts on somehow regaining some semblance of control over his dick.
Dean's first order of business was to attempt a cold shower, but his wayward penis found the pellets of cold water too painful to endure, so he settled on a tepid water temperature instead. He stood beneath the stream for nearly twenty minutes, and was dismayed to find no improvement in his predicament. Dean toweled himself off, and began to pace back and forth in the tiny bathroom. He then tried to conjure up some of the most disgusting, non-erotic mental images that he could think of, from some of the more disgusting supernatural fuglies he'd come across, to mental images of Sam wearing lipstick and ladies' underwear. (He wasn't sure what caused that particular image to spring into his mind, but he quickly decided not to dwell on it.) Even after all of this, Dean's dick remained steadfast in it's quest to maintain the longest, most unerotic, freakishly disturbing erection in the history of mankind.
Finally, there was a loud knock on the bathroom door. "Dude, come on. You can't possibly still be jerking off in there, Dean."
Dean lowered himself onto the toilet seat, his hands clawing at his head in defeat. He had reached the end of his rope...The boner from hell was apparently not going to go away. There was no longer a choice in the matter - he was going to have to tell Sam. Dean stood up slowly, took in several deep breaths, and grudgingly turned the handle on the bathroom door.
As Dean commenced his Walk of Shame from the bathroom, Sam approached him with an exasperated look on his face. "Finally. About freakin' time. I was just about to....Oh my God, Dean, are you fucking kidding me?" Sam had become acutely aware of the now all-too-familiar lump that was aggressively protruding from beneath Dean's boxers. "What the hell is wrong with you, man?" Sam turned around and flung his arms into the air. "You know, Dean, I've put up with a lot of crap from you, but this is where I draw the line. If you're going to spend every spare moment of your life jerking yourself off - right in fucking front of me - we're going to get separate hotel rooms from here on out. I just can't....What is it?" Sam finally looked Dean in the face, and noticed the frantic, distressed look in his brother's eyes.
Dean took a deep breath, and fixed his eyes to the ground as he spoke. "Sam, I...I need your help here, man." Dean shook his head and rubbed hard at the bridge of his nose. "I've got a problem, Sammy. A huge fucking problem."
Sam's eyebrows shot up, as all anger suddenly vanished from his face. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable. "Um...wow. Geez Dean, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to...Look man, I didn't mean to say you have a problem. I mean, yeah, this shit tonight has gotten a little...excessive. But I understand you have needs, man. I mean, what with the lifestyle we live and all...You've gotta take the edge off sometimes, I get that..."
Dean rubbed hard at his forehead, as if trying to erase this entire verbal exchange permanently from his brain. "Dude, please just...stop talking, alright? That's not what I'm talking about. At all. I'm trying to tell you - I think I've been cursed here, Sammy. I think we missed something today back at that house."
Sam stared blankly at Dean. "Cursed? Like...how? You mean..." Sam gestured vaguely at the protrusion beneath Dean's boxer shorts.
Dean shrugged and nodded an affirmative. "I just...I've tried everything. I can't get it to go away. I'm not even fucking horny, dude. And...it hurts like hell, too," he admitted. "I can't even take a piss, man. I...I don't know what the fuck to do here, Sammy." If it was physically possible for Dean's face to turn a darker shade of red, it would be happening at that very moment.
Sam looked on at Dean incredulously. "So, what you're telling me is...you've been cursed with a never-ending boner?" Sam frowned. "That...sounds kind of farfetched, Dean. What makes you think this has anything to do with that house? We were only there for about ten minutes."
Dean cleared his throat. "Because, uh..." Dean sighed. "You gotta promise not to give me any shit about this, Sam."
Sam frowned. "About what?"
"Ok, so...When we were at the house today, I swiped a few pills from the medicine cabinet, all right?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "What kind of pills? Like, narcotics? Or...something illegal?" Sam's stomach started to churn. "Shit Dean, have you been-"
"No, no...nothing like that." Dean averted his eyes to the ceiling. "It was...Aw, fuck me." Dean rubbed his hand over his face and shot daggers into Sam's eyes. "It was fucking Viagra, all right? Are you happy now, jackass?"
Sam looked on at his brother with his mouth gaping open, completely taken aback. That was pretty much the last thing he expected to come out of Dean's mouth. Sam shook his head and cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say in response.
Dean continued. "The shit was cursed, Sammy. You need to get back to that house, before..." Dean shuddered before completing his thought. He didn't really want to think about what might happen if they couldn't figure out how to fix this.
Sam raised a calming hand towards his increasingly panicked brother. "Ok, hold up a second. Let's take a step back from this before we jump to conclusions. This might not even be something supernatural, Dean. It could just be, like...a medical problem or something. How many of those pills did you take?"
Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Three or four, maybe?"
Sam's eyes widened. "Three or four?" He scratched his head. "That... kind of sounds like a lot, Dean. How many did the instructions tell you to take?"
Dean shrugged again. "Not sure. I didn't look at it all that closely... Just grabbed some pills out of the box and hauled ass."
"You did...what? Fuck, Dean!" Sam smacked his forehead audibly with his hand. "What the hell were you thinking, man? You can't just...." Sam stopped himself, and simply shook his head in utter bafflement. This wasn't the time to yell at Dean for his reckless stupidity - there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, he had to get to the bottom of this. "Where are the pills now, Dean?"
"I took 'em all already. There were only four in the pack."
"Four, then" Sam murmured to himself. "Did you look at the dosage? That should have been on the packaging somewhere."
Dean looked up to the ceiling, pursing his lips slightly. "Uh...it said 100..something. 100 milligrams, I think?"
That was enough information for Sam to start with. He sat down at his computer, and began clicking away at the keyboard. Dean tottered over to the bed and awkwardly maneuvered himself onto the mattress. "Sam I swear, you ever breath a word of this to anyone, I will kick your ass so goddamn hard...."
Sam's face remained fixated on the computer screen, apparently oblivious to Dean's threats. "How long has your erection lasted, Dean?"
Dean groaned, as he threw his forearm over his face.. "Saaam...you can't ask me that shit all point-blank like that, man. Spare me a little fucking dignity here, would you?"
Sam worked his jaw, then took in a slow, deep breath. "This is no picnic for me either, Dean. Now quit making this harder..." Sam cleared his throat "...Uh, more difficult for both of us. So how long?"
"Shit, I don't know....four hours, maybe five? I was asleep part of the time...I really don't think it ever went away, though."
Several minutes later, Sam closed his laptop, and rested his elbows on the table, pressing his clasped hands against his chin. The room remained silent for several seconds.
Dean shifted uncomfortably on the bed, then finally let out a loud sigh. "Well, don't leave me in suspense here, man. Am I gonna live, or what? What's the verdict?"
Sam turned towards his brother. "The verdict? The verdict is that you royally fucked up here, Dean. We need to get you to a hospital, and right now."
A humorless laugh burst out of Dean. "Yeah right, Sam. There is no fucking way I am going anywhere like this." Dean gestured his arms vaguely towards his lower half of his body.
Sam glanced towards his brother, then quickly averted his eyes towards the mold stains on the wall next to him, which proved to be a much less disturbing focal point. "Listen, man. That dose you took was the highest dose of Viagra available on the market. Just one of those was probably too much for you to take. And you took four of them."
"Viagra overdose is a big deal, dude," Sam continued, his eyes roaming around the room uncomfortably as he spoke. "And you can't just sit around here and wait for this to go away, either. Maintaining an erection for over four hours can cause permanent damage to your..." Sam shifted his weight and rubbed his forehead. "...Your, uh, penis. It's called priapism. The increased blood flow that is causing your....erection is trapped inside your penis, and it isn't able to drain back out. That's why you can't get it down, man. If you don't get this taken care of right away, you could be looking at permanent erectile dysfunction, disfigurement of your penis..."
As Sam droned on, Dean took the pillow from beneath his head and pressed it hard against his face. If the words "your penis" came out of Sam's mouth one more time, Dean was pretty sure he was going to have to put a bullet in his own brain, to put himself out of his misery. The kid sure had a talent for taking an already uncomfortable situation and making it flat-out unbearable. As if that wasn't bad enough, Sam had started talking in that empathetic, ultra-therapeutic voice that made Dean want to gag under normal circumstances. At the moment, it just made Dean want to climb into a hole and die.
As Sam spoke, however, the gravity of the situation hit Dean like a sledgehammer. Permanent erectile dysfunction? Disfigurement? Holy fucking Christ!
Dean quickly realized that he had zero other options in this matter. He had to go, and there were no two ways about it. As if this night hadn't been humiliating enough...
"Dean? Come on man, get it together. Didn't you hear what I just said? Permanent erectile dysfunction, dude. You don't want to end up-"
Dean waved his arm sharply in the air to cut Sam off, and peeked one eye out from beneath the pillow. "Shut the hell up, Sam. I'll go. I'll fucking go, alright? Just...stop talking about it, would you?"
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Sam shifted his rear end in the hard plastic ER chair, in a vain attempt to find a tolerable position. It had been several hours since the brothers arrived, with Dean clad in Sam's loose-fitting sweatpants, and not-so-discreetly draping his leather jacket over the front of his lower body. The waiting room was filled to the brim with grumbling, ailing patients, and it was a testament to the severity of Dean situation when he was promptly ushered into an exam room several minutes after whispering his situation into the nurse's ear at the ER desk.
Of the many times in his life that Sam had accompanied Dean to the ER (at least in a conscious state), this was the first time that Dean expressly banned his brother from his exam room. Dean despised hospitals, and (although he would never admit it) he especially hated being left alone in them while having to receive medical treatment. Even though it had never been said outright, there was always an unspoken understanding within the Winchester family that Dean was never left by himself in a hospital room, if the matter could be at all helped.
Apparently, an ER visit that centered it's entire focus on Dean's traumatized dick would prove to be an exception to this rule.
"Mr. Scholz?"
Sam stood up and waved his index finger towards the young blonde doctor who had poked her head into the waiting room. She nodded her head, indicating for Sam to follow her.
Sam followed the attractive young doctor through the automated ER doors, and took her proffered hand into his. "Mr. Scholz, my name is Dr. Allen. I'm the physician who has been overseeing your brother's treatment for his condition."
Sam nodded. "So, is my brother going to be alright? I mean, is his, um...you know. Is he..." Sam stumbled on his worlds helplessly, and was grateful when Dr. Allen put her hand out and smiled.
"Your brother is going to be fine. It is a very good thing that he didn't wait any longer to seek treatment, though. I was concerned at first that he may require emergency surgery to have a shunt placed, in order to restore the circulation to his penis. But thankfully, he responded very well to more conservative treatment. We first aspirated some of the trapped blood from the penis. Then, we were able to re-establish circulation through a series of medication injections and saline flushes to the affected area. As things look right now, I do not believe he will suffer any long-term damage."
Sam subconsciously hovered his hand over his own genital region as he listened to Dr. Allen recount the disturbing details of his brother's ER experience thus far. Good God. Dean always hated shots to begin with... The thought of the ER staff poking needles into his brother's dick was making Sam's own penis twinge in sympathy. Sam tried to smile at Dr. Allen, although he was sure it came out as a wince instead. "Thank you. That's...that's great. Uh, so anyway... Does he still have that crazy flushing to his face? Is that something we need to be concerned about?"
Dr. Allen's eyes widened. "Oh, yes. How could I forget? He certainly looks a fright, doesn't he?" She chuckled. "Facial flushing is not an uncommon side effect of Viagra. Your brother is apparently quite sensitive to the medication to begin with. The excessive dose that he consumed greatly augmented that particular reaction. I know his appearance is alarming, but your brother will be fine. The flushing should subside within the next day or so. Make sure he drinks plenty of non-caffeinated fluids during that time. Applying cold compresses to his face will help with his hot flashes until they subside."
Hot flashes. Sam had to hold back a snicker on that one. He suddenly felt like he was discussing a post-menopausal woman instead of his twenty-seven year old brother. "Thanks, Dr. Allen. I really appreciate all of your help. Can I go see my brother now?"
"Not just yet, Mr. Scholz. I have an important matter to discuss with you first." Dr. Allen gave Sam a stern look that suddenly made Sam very uneasy. "I already talked with your brother about this, but I think it is important to discuss this matter with you as well. You do know that it can be very dangerous for a person to take medicine that is not prescribed to them, do you not?"
Sam nodded firmly. "Yes, of course. And believe me, I'm going to have a long talk with my brother about this when we get home."
Dr. Allen frowned. "Mr. Scholz, it is very important that you do not share your own prescription medication with anybody else. Not your brother, not anyone. Not only is it dangerous, but it is also illegal. And it was especially dangerous giving him the medication without informing him of the recommended dosing requirements."
"My medication?" Sam let out a nervous laugh. "There must be some mistake. That wasn't my Viagra. It was, uh...given to him by a friend."
Dr. placed a hand on Sam's arm and gave him a sympathetic smile. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Mr. Scholz. There are some things in life that are not within our control. But if your brother is having similar issues to those that you have been having, he needs to see his own physician about getting a prescription filled."
Oh no, he didn't. Goddamit Dean, you friggin jerk. Sam felt the skin on the back of his neck heating up, as all concern and worry for his brother was abruptly forgotten.
To Sam's dismay, Dr. Allen pressed on. "It is possible that some hereditary factors may be at the root of the problem for you boys, you both being so young and all. You may want to speak to your physician further about that possibility."
Sam was speechless. He wanted nothing more than to march into his brother's hospital room at that very moment, and punch him in his bright red nose. Sam started to protest his innocence in the matter once again, but stopped himself. It was obvious that whatever Dean had told Dr. Allen, Sam was not going to convince her of anything otherwise. Finally, Sam forced a tight smile and nodded. "Yes ma'am. We'll uh, look into that. Thank you."
Dr. Allen nodded, appearing satisfied. "Your brother is very lucky he didn't sustain permanent injury. The injections we administered will often cause some lingering pain for several days, so I'm going to write a prescription for Vicodin for him to take at home. Your brother is allowing visitors now, so you can go see him if you'd like."
Oh, goody. Sam had half a mind to drive back to the hotel and leave the bastard's sorry ass at the hospital. He should have known that Dean would find a way to pawn some of his humiliation off on Sam. Sam begrudgingly stomped his way down the hall to his brother's exam room.
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Sam entered the room to find Dean sitting cross-legged in the bed, clad in a frumpy, wrinkled hospital gown, a threadbare hospital blanket draped over the lower half of his body. His face appeared to take on a glowing, scarlet hue beneath the harsh, fluorescent hospital lighting.
Dean raised an eyebrow towards his brother and smiled sheepishly, although his face was drawn and weary. "He'ya, Sam. What do you say we blow this popsicle stand? I've had about all the excitement I can stand for one night."
Sam shrugged. "We might as well wait a little longer. Your doctor is getting ready to discharge you, and she's gonna write you a prescription for some painkillers. Sounds like you're gonna need them, and our supply's just about out."
Dean raised one eyebrow towards Sam, cringing just a little. "Sooo...You, uh, talked to the doc then, did you?"
Sam crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, I talked to her alright. And she ripped me a new one for recklessly supplying my poor, innocent brother with near-lethal doses of Viagra. Very funny, Dean."
Dean smirked, though his downcast eyes betrayed his attempt at levity. His voice came out uncharacteristically timid, and wavered just a bit as he spoke. "Aw, c'mon now. You're not gonna get your panties in a wad over that, are you Sammy?"
Sam, who up until that moment, was on the verge of blowing a fuse with his brother, stopped short as he looked Dean squarely in the face. As was often the case with his brother, Dean's eyes were speaking words that Dean's voice had too much pride to say. And they spoke loud and clear.
Please Sam... Don't call me out on this one. Don't make me talk about this any more. Just drive my humiliated ass back to the hotel and let me try to forget that this whole fucking night ever happened.
It was suddenly clear to Sam that Dean's little practical joke with the doctor was more a matter of self-preservation than it was a prank at Sam's expense. It was an asshole move on his part, to be sure, and Sam was certain Dean got at least a small kick out of the whole thing. But every instinct in Sam's body was telling him that he needed to let this one go, for his brother's sake.
And so he did.
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The sun was shining high over the Impala by the time the brothers were making their way from the hospital back to their hotel room. Sam kept throwing casual glances at Dean, who was sprawled out uncomfortably in the passenger side of the car. After about the twentieth such glance, Dean glared back at Sam and huffed. "There a reason you keep gawking at my ass, dude?"
Sam cleared his throat. "Actually Dean, I uh...I wanted to talk to you about last night."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on Sam, we don't need to do this. I swear to God, I learned my lesson on this one. I won't take random pills anymore without checking the directions first. Trust me, you have no worries about this, dude. I don't ever want to go through something like this again."
"I know, Dean. I figured that much. That wasn't what I meant. I just wanted to see if...you know...if there was anything you needed to talk about."
Dean scowled. "Jesus, Sam. No, there is nothing I want to talk about. I know what you're getting at, and I am absolutely not having this conversation with you. Not now, not ever. So just fucking drop it already, will you?"
Sam sighed. "Fine." Silence filled the car for all of ten seconds, but Sam couldn't help himself. There was something he needed to get off his chest. "Hey man...Will you please just let me say one thing? Just one, and I promise not to mention it ever again."
Sam watched Dean's body stiffen for several seconds. Finally he let out a long sigh. "Whatever. Shoot."
"Dude I just want to say... Just...Don't be so hard on yourself about this, alright? You've really been through a lot of shit lately. We both have. I mean, after losing Dad, the accident, and...shit, all of this other crap piling up on us...This was all bound to fuck us up in one way or another. So, whatever is going on with you, just...be patient with yourself, all right? We'll get through this, man. All of it."
Silence filled the car, and a pair of bright green eyes flickered over towards Sam. "You done now?"
Sam shrugged, then nodded.
"Good. Because if the point of that lovely chick-flick moment was to make me grow a vagina, I wish you would have gotten to it sooner. Would have saved me a buttload of trouble last night."
Sam shook his head, and snorted a laugh. Dean just rolled his eyes, stretched his legs in front of him, and turned his head towards the window.
Sam glanced over to take stock of his brother one last time. Dean was sitting in silence, gazing out the window, a neutral, yet hardened expression fixed on his face. Sam sighed. He already missed the short-lived spark of playful, excitable energy from his brother the day before. At least it gave Sam hope that this part of Dean was still alive inside of him, somewhere. But it appeared the brothers were back to their current status quo, for the time being. Under the circumstances, Sam still considered that a win.
Warning for language
Words: approx. 8000
I own nothing.
Written (very belatedly) for LaueHime's comment fic meme, for firesign10's prompt: Dean has been having a bit of a dry spell with the ladies. Hunting has sapped his....joie de vivre, so to speak. He decides to pop some Viagra before hitting a bar. Unfortunately, he strikes out. Not only does he have the boner that won't quit, it's that boner from the warnings - "if you have an erection lasting 4 hours or more, go to the doctor!". He's horrified to confess his problem to Sam, but he doesn't want to permanently injure his dick either. Finally Sam, aware that something is wrong but not knowing what, weasels it out of Dean.
(So, I MOSTLY followed the prompt, except I do let Dean have a little bit of fun in this...but just a little :) Set early season 2.)
Little Blue Pills
If he had to pinpoint the exact time frame that his 'little problem' first presented itself, Dean would probably have to say that it was shortly following the accident, sometime during those first couple of weeks after his father's death. It really just started as a general loss of interest in the few things in life that used to give him any semblance of pleasure...his problems on the sexual front seemed to be just one part of the equation.
At first, Dean handled the issue the same way he handled every other fucked-up situation in his life - he simply tried not to think about it, and hoped it would just would go the hell away. Yeah right, like that ever worked out for him.
Dean was relieved that Jo had bought into all of that "wrong place, wrong time" crap that he bullshitted her with. Really, he just wasn't sure that he'd be able to get it up - that is, if they ended up going that far. He doubted they would, even though it was obvious to Dean that she was smitten with him. She wasn't that kind of girl, that much Dean could tell. But just in case...
As he slowly started to mentally recover from his dad's death, Dean could finally feel some of the shattered fragments of his life slowly getting pieced back together - even as others were beginning to fall apart. But to his utter bafflement and dismay, his sexual frustrations persisted.
Dean still loved women, he really did. He thought about them incessantly (at least, when he wasn't thinking about either hunting or Sam), and he still found himself craving sex like a kid craves candy. It was just that his body didn't seem to be responding to his...urges, anymore. It was almost as if there was a lack of communication going on within his body - a disconnect between his brain and his dick, and if he was being honest with himself, it was starting to scare the hell out of him. Even his Busty Asian Beauties weren't doing it for him anymore.
It wasn't until the humiliating experience with that spunky brunette back in Omaha that Dean felt he had hit rock bottom. She was gorgeous - a smoking hot, petite little number, the type of girl that would normally cause Dean to sport a hard-on just by looking at her. Despite his reservations, Dean finally decided to go for broke that night, and accepted her invitation to stay the night at her place. They were only starting to approach third base when Dean came to the horrific realization that despite the tantalizing foreplay, he was still completely and utterly flaccid.
Dean escaped the situation the only way he could think of - he excused himself to the bathroom and texted Sam his emergency 'get-away' code, and Sam called Dean's cell so Dean could fake a family emergency, and get the hell out of the girl's house. Of course, he didn't tell Sam the real reason he needed to leave, but instead made up some bullshit story about finding a bottle of Herpexia on the girl's bedside table, which promptly made Sam lose any interest in pursuing the matter any further.
Dean just couldn't figure out why this fucked-up problem wasn't getting any better. He wondered if it had anything to do with that shot to the nuts he took during that clown fiasco in Medford. Or maybe he finally overdid it with the magic fingers, and it desensitized him or something. Was something like that even possible? Dean shuddered at the thought.
Whatever it was, there was no way in hell Dean was going to just sit back and let his stubborn-ass dick wreak havoc on his sex life. No freaking way. He just needed to find a way to get himself back in the game, was all. He likened the problem to a mechanical malfunction with the Impala - he just needed to jump start his batteries, or something. The analogy gave him hope.
Whatever he decided to do, he was going to have to figure it out on his own, because there was no way in hell he was going to discuss his, um...situation with his little brother.
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"Dean? You ready, man?"
Dean startled out of his thoughts, and realized that he and Sam had arrived at their destination- a beat-up, split-story brick house near the end of a dismal-appearing cul-de-sac.
Dean sighed. "Come on, Sam. I'm telling you, we're wasting our time with this one. This is definitely not our kind of problem, man."
Sam shrugged. "You're probably right. But we were in the neighborhood anyway, and we don't have any other jobs lined up yet. It's not going to hurt anything to just check it out, will it?"
Sam did have a point. Still, this trip felt like a monumental waste of time, as far as Dean was concerned. The case, so far, appeared to be an isolated incident - just a jealous wife who had hacked her cheating husband to death with a pick axe in their garage. Sure, she did get a bit...creative with her gardening tools after she had finished the job, but hell hath no fury, right? Completely and utterly disturbing? Hell yes. Supernatural? Dean didn't think so.
Sam and Dean slipped through the den window alongside the back of the house, then spilt up to investigate. Everything inside the dilapidated old house was just as Dean suspected- no EMF activity, no sulfur, nothing unusual to be found. Dean was in the bathroom rummaging through the medicine cabinet, when a small white box with a little blue stripe running down the side caught his eye. His eyes widened as he read the bolded words printed on the front of the box: VIAGRA.
Dean raised his eyebrows. The thought of seeking out The Big V had been on Dean's mind for quite some time now. In fact, Dean even did some late night, top-secret research on Sam's computer on several occasions, to see if he could figure out how to score some of those little blue pills without a prescription. He ultimately gave up on the idea, deciding that his risk of getting found out by his brother would be too great.
But now, Dean suddenly found himself face-to-face with the elusive little miracle drugs, and they were his for the taking. If Dean believed in that destiny crap at all, he would say that this was meant to be.
Dean spared a glance over his shoulder, and pulled the box out of the cabinet. He barely had time to give it a second glance before he heard footsteps coming towards the bathroom. Dean hastily pulled out the metal foil packaging, shoved the box back into the cabinet, and slid the pills into his pocket, just as Sam's gigantor head appeared from around the corner. "Find anything?"
Dean shook his head. "Not a damn thing. Come on, lets get the hell out of here."
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"You wanna grab some food before we pack up and hit the road?"
Dean glanced over his shoulder towards his brother, frowning. "Come on, Sam. It's getting late, we're in between jobs...lets just take a breather tonight, man."
Sam looked at Dean in surprise. "Really?"
Dean nodded. "Sure, why not?"
Sam shrugged. "No man, I...I think that's a great idea...I'm just surprised that you want to, that's all." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "We may have a hard time finding a decent place to eat around here, though...Let me see what I can find."
"No need to bother, Sammy. I've already got it covered. We're going back to Miss Molly's tonight."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Where?"
"Miss Molly's. You know, that little bar and grill we ate at a couple days ago."
Sam grimaced. "No way, dude. That place was a shithole, even for our standards, man. And the food tasted like cardboard. Moldy cardboard, at that."
Dean grinned. "Not going there for the food or the ambiance, Sammy. Do you remember Brandy? That little blonde waitress that was working the table next to us?"
"Brandy?" Sam frowned. "No, not really. I was distracted by the cockroach that was climbing up the wall next to my head. I've gotta say though, I'm impressed that you remembered her name. Shocked, actually." Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna pass, Dean. I'll grab a pizza back at the hotel or something."
Dean shrugged. "Whatever. Do what you want, but I'm going back to Molly's tonight, Sammy." Dean waggled his eyebrows towards Sam and turned his head back towards the road.
Sam rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his cheeks, as he listened to Dean break into a loud, cringe-worthy rendition of 'Good Golly, Miss Molly". He felt his spirits starting to lift, as he took in Dean's goofy display and rare cheerful disposition. It was an encouraging change from the brooding, depressive state his brother had been in, as of late. He had no idea what brought on the sudden shift in Dean's mood, but he wasn't about question it.
Dean pulled in front of the hotel to let Sam off. "Don't wait up for me tonight, Sammy." Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and gave Dean a halfhearted wave as he walked away.
After Sam was safely inside the hotel, Dean pulled the pills out of his pocket. He looked at the four little blue tablets in the metal foil packaging, and frowned. There were no instructions on the foil, just the words 'Viagra 100 mg tablets' and some manufacturer information or some other useless shit. He frowned. The only words that had registered to him when he glanced at the box back at the house were the words: 'half-an-hour to an hour prior to sex'.
Dean shrugged, deciding that this was all the information he really needed. It sounded simple enough, really. Pop a pill or two prior to Go Time, then sit back and wait for the magic to happen. Good enough for him. Dean stole a glance of himself in the rearview mirror, shoved the pills deep into his jacket pocket, and took off towards the bar and grill, his gut churning with mixed feelings of apprehension and newfound hope.
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A loud bark from outside the apartment woke Dean up with a start. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was at, as he attempted to gather his bearings in the midst of an inebriated haze.
The bar...hot waitress...Viagra...ooohh yeah, that's right.
Dean turned on his side, and was greeted by the sleeping form of Miss Molly's Finest, who had the appearance of lying on a cloud of ecstasy, a dreamy grin fixated on her face as she slept.
Yep, I knew it. I've still got it. Dean grinned, feeling more alive and validated in his manhood than he had in quite some time.
The night had gone perfectly according to plan. Dean popped a couple of Viagra at Molly's, about a half-hour before Brandy's shift ended. Just before they left the bar, he swallowed back another pill, for a little extra insurance.
Once he arrived to Brandy's house, Dean began to panic a little, worrying that the pills may not work for him after all. He certainly couldn't handle that kind of humiliation again. He excused himself to Brandy's bathroom and tossed back one more pill, just to be on the safe side.
His efforts had paid off in aces. It was one of the most amazing sexual encounters he had ever experienced - definitely on his top ten list, anyway - and judging by the raucous, carnal noises that exploded out of Brandy during their marathon lovemaking session, Dean was fairly certain that the feeling was mutual in this regard.
Dean grinned. He knew he could get this mess sorted out. All his dick needed was a little encouragement to get the ball rolling again. No big deal. Sam was none the wiser, and with any luck, Dean could soon forget any of this bullshit had ever happened. Dean rolled over on his back, rested his hands behind his head...and frowned.
Something was...not quite right. As Dean gazed down towards his feet, he realized he couldn't actually see his feet - there was an enormous bulge beneath the sheets obscuring his view. Dean had some serious tenting going on right now, much more so than he usually had during this stage of the proceedings.
And now that he was thinking about it, he was feeling kind of...warm. Dean swiped at the fine layer of sweat that was plastered on his forehead. Geez...Did it just get really fucking hot in here? Dean's face suddenly felt like it was burning up...and even more disturbingly, so did his genitals.
Dean winced as a dull, throbbing sensation started to pulsate through his balls. He reached a tentative hand beneath the sheets to investigate matters further, and his eyes widened. Not only was he fully and exaggeratedly erect, but his dick felt strangely tender to touch, and oddly rigid. As his hand migrated lower to his balls, Dean had to stifle a yelp as a sharp pain shot through his left testicle.
Ok, so...this was not good. Really not good. Dean had no freaking clue what the hell was happening to him, but it was definitely time to get the hell out of Dodge. Dean gingerly maneuvered himself out of bed, and pulled his boxers over his painfully erected penis. It was all he could do to keep from groaning in pain, as the pressure of the fabric pressed against his throbbing genitals. There was no way he was going to get his pants on, that was a given. He threw on his shirt, shoved his feet into his boots, and grabbed the rest of his clothes, as he waddled his way to the front door, then out to the Impala.
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Sam was sitting in front of his laptop sipping at his beer, when he heard the faint, distinct rumblings of the Impala outside the door. He frowned, and glanced at his watch. He hadn't expected to see his brother again until later in the morning. He heard Dean wrestling with the doorknob, a task which seemed to take considerably longer than it should have. Finally, his brother clumsily pushed his way through the door.
Sam nearly choked on his beer as he first caught a glimpse of his brother. Dean was...well, flushed was an inadequate word to describe the coloring of Dean's face at that very moment. He was red, an unnatural, tomato juice coloring that Sam had never seen the likes of on his brother before.
"Holy shit, Dean. What the hell happened to you?"
Dean grumbled incomprehensibly, then ducked his face away from Sam, as he slowly made his way into the room. Sam's jaw dropped open as Dean's bottom half came into view from behind the desk, and he saw that Dean wasn't wearing any pants. He was walking oddly, crouching downwards in a manner that exaggerated his already-bowlegged gait. He was hunched over at the waist, and had his back turned towards Sam, as he awkwardly maneuvered himself in the direction of the bathroom door. All-in-all, it was a ridiculous display, and Sam would have been laughing his ass off at his brother's efforts to hide God-knows-what-it-was, except for the bizarre tomato juice coloring to his skin.
Sam watched in stunned silence as Dean stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a few moments, Sam put down his beer, sighing. Warily, he made his way towards the bathroom, and knocked on the door. "Dean? What the hell, man?"
He heard a muffled groan from behind the door. "M'fine, Sam. Go away."
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Dean was anything but fine. Cringing, he pulled back the waistband of his boxers to take stock of the nightmare that was unfolding below. The massive erection he was sporting earlier hadn't gone down at all... In fact, if anything, it had increased in girth. Dean suppressed a groan as the painful throbbing sensation in his balls suddenly radiated through the entire length of his dick. What the holy mother of fuck...
"Dean...Open the door, man!"
"Screw off, Sam", Dean muttered under his breath. There was no way in hell his baby brother was going to be let in on this. Dean could fix this...somehow. But first, he had to get his nosy-ass brother away from the bathroom door so he could hash this thing out in peace. He tried as best he could to keep his voice steady. "I'm fine Sam, really. Just, uh, had too much to drink. M'not feeling too great... Need a little privacy here, dude."
His request was met with silence, and Dean could just picture Sam on the other side of the door, furrowing his eyebrows with that dopey, concerned look on his face. "Are you sure, man? Why's your face all red like that? And where the hell are your pants! Come on dude, just let me in."
"NO!" Dean was starting to panic a little. Sasquatch wasn't buying it. Not that he could blame him, he knew he hadn't exactly been the picture of discretion with this whole thing. Maybe he should have tried to wrestle his pants on over his dick after all. Dean's balls pulsated painfully in response to the thought.
And what was the hell was Sam talking about anyway...something about Dean's face being red? Curiously, Dean pulled up from his crouched position to spare a glance at himself in the mirror. He gasped loudly as his reflection came into view. "Holy shit!"
"What! What's wrong?"
"Nothing! Just...uh...nothing. I'm good!" Dean looked back up to the mirror, stricken. He was starting to have flashbacks of that one scene from that stupid movie that Sam used to like- what was it called again?- when that girl's face turned purple and then she blew up like a balloon, and those little orange men started tossing her around the room. Dean's face wasn't exactly purple, but it was a comical, unnatural shade of red. The last time he even came close to this particular hue was the time he fell asleep on the beach for four hours next to that spunky little lifeguard, after that vengeful spirit case he worked in Miami. But this was worse, so much worse.
"Nothing my ass, Dean. Open the damn door, or I'm coming in anyway."
Dean felt a flutter of panic rising in his chest. What the hell was happening to him? He was starting to think there was something supernatural going on in that house after all, and that Viagra he stole was fucking cursed or something. He wiped his forehead, a sheen of sweat covering his face. God, he was burning up.
Dean was seriously starting to think that he may need Sam to help him out on this one. He wasn't quite ready to resign himself just yet, though... There was one other matter to attend to first. "Alright Sam, just...give me a minute, alright? I gotta piss first."
"Yeah, right. You have two goddamn minutes, Dean."
Dean directed his middle finger towards the bathroom door, then stumbled over to the toilet. An odd feeling of impending doom washed over his body, as he prepared for the piss that he was pretty sure was not going to come out of him. It probably wasn't even physically possible, what with the monster hard-on he was sporting right now. He had to try though. The dire, overwhelming urge to relieve himself was killing him.
Dean hadn't expected the pissing attempt to be exactly pleasant, but nothing could have prepared him for the intense wave of pain that came over him as he bore down on his abdominal muscles whilst attempting to empty his bladder. Dean felt a strangulated scream escape his throat, as the painful throbbing in his dick suddenly morphed into a thousand tiny razor blades, and the sensation infiltrated his entire genital area, from the shaft all the way to the tip of his penis. His knees buckled and he felt them smack the cold linoleum of the bathroom floor. Through the haze of pain, Dean could barely make out the muffled, furious voice of his brother, and the rattling of a doorknob.
"Okay. Fuck this, Dean, I'm coming in there."
Several seconds later, Dean had collapsed into a sitting position against the wall across from the toilet. The pain had receded just as quickly as it had come over him, and the discomfort in his genitals returned to it's previous dull, throbbing baseline. Dean shook his head at his own stupidity.
Shouldn't have tried to piss...Bad idea, dude...Really bad idea.
Dean laboriously pulled himself back up into a standing position. His boxer shorts lay forgotten for the moment in a crumpled wad behind him, as Dean ever so delicately cradled his dick into his hands, just to reassure himself that his appendage was still fully attached, and in one piece. And it was at that very moment that Sam suddenly burst through the bathroom door.
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Sam made quick work of picking the lock on the bathroom door. Christ, his brother was one stubborn son of a bitch. Whatever sequence of events had occurred to find Dean hobbling into the hotel with no pants on in the middle of the night, Sam could only imagine - and didn't really want to, for that matter. But the sudden, painful cry from behind the door was the final straw in the matter.
As Sam shoved his way into the bathroom, he really had no clue what was going to be waiting for him on the other side of the door. But coming face-to-face with his brother, stark naked from the waist down with his hands fondling his fully erected dick, was not something he was prepared to handle.
"Whoa! What the fuck, dude..." Sam stumbled backwards a few steps, slamming his back into the bathroom wall in the process.
Sam turned around and scrubbed hard at his eyes with his palms. "You've got to be kidding me, Dean! Seriously? Do you really have to do that right now, man? With me standing outside the door, worrying about your ass?"
Dean cast Sam a horrified look, as he reached behind him to pick up his boxers, and awkwardly held them to his waist to shield himself against Sam's intruding eyes. "Dude! You're the one who came barging in here after I told you to leave me the hell alone!"
"You sounded like you were hurt or something. I didn't think you were doing....that. Jesus Christ, Dean! You're unbelievable, you know that?"
"Dude, can we....continue this conversation later? I'm kind of, uh..." As embarrassing as this situation was, Dean was determined to use this humiliating turn of events to his advantage. At least now he had an excuse to buy himself some more time to fix his problem. It certainly wasn't ideal, but it was an excuse nonetheless.
Sam finally spared a glance over his shoulder towards his big brother, flinching as he did so. "No, no we can't. Dude, have you even seen your face? You look like you're having some kind of weird allergic reaction or something. You're redder than a fucking tomato, man. What the hell happened to you tonight?"
Dean was beyond exasperated at this point. He couldn't believe Sam was attempting to have this conversation with Dean in his current state. "Dammit, Sam. Just...give me five freaking minutes here, then you can Dr. Quinn my ass all you want. But get the fuck outta here right now. Please?" Dean had to keep from cringing at the pleading quality of his voice.
The color of Sam's face was rapidly starting to rival that of Dean's. Sam pounded his fist on the bathroom sink, then stomped his way out the door. "You know what? That's just fine, Dean. Sorry for being concerned about you, you selfish asshole." Sam slammed the bathroom door, and Dean sighed in relief. He tensed up again and scowled, as the muffled yelling started up again from the other side of the door. "Just...Do whatever the hell you need to do, then get your ass out here so I can check you out. I'm serious Dean. That looks really bad."
Well, that could have gone better, Dean thought to himself. He was going to have to figure out how to square things with Sam later, but that would have to wait for now. With the bathroom finally to himself, Dean concentrated his full efforts on somehow regaining some semblance of control over his dick.
Dean's first order of business was to attempt a cold shower, but his wayward penis found the pellets of cold water too painful to endure, so he settled on a tepid water temperature instead. He stood beneath the stream for nearly twenty minutes, and was dismayed to find no improvement in his predicament. Dean toweled himself off, and began to pace back and forth in the tiny bathroom. He then tried to conjure up some of the most disgusting, non-erotic mental images that he could think of, from some of the more disgusting supernatural fuglies he'd come across, to mental images of Sam wearing lipstick and ladies' underwear. (He wasn't sure what caused that particular image to spring into his mind, but he quickly decided not to dwell on it.) Even after all of this, Dean's dick remained steadfast in it's quest to maintain the longest, most unerotic, freakishly disturbing erection in the history of mankind.
Finally, there was a loud knock on the bathroom door. "Dude, come on. You can't possibly still be jerking off in there, Dean."
Dean lowered himself onto the toilet seat, his hands clawing at his head in defeat. He had reached the end of his rope...The boner from hell was apparently not going to go away. There was no longer a choice in the matter - he was going to have to tell Sam. Dean stood up slowly, took in several deep breaths, and grudgingly turned the handle on the bathroom door.
As Dean commenced his Walk of Shame from the bathroom, Sam approached him with an exasperated look on his face. "Finally. About freakin' time. I was just about to....Oh my God, Dean, are you fucking kidding me?" Sam had become acutely aware of the now all-too-familiar lump that was aggressively protruding from beneath Dean's boxers. "What the hell is wrong with you, man?" Sam turned around and flung his arms into the air. "You know, Dean, I've put up with a lot of crap from you, but this is where I draw the line. If you're going to spend every spare moment of your life jerking yourself off - right in fucking front of me - we're going to get separate hotel rooms from here on out. I just can't....What is it?" Sam finally looked Dean in the face, and noticed the frantic, distressed look in his brother's eyes.
Dean took a deep breath, and fixed his eyes to the ground as he spoke. "Sam, I...I need your help here, man." Dean shook his head and rubbed hard at the bridge of his nose. "I've got a problem, Sammy. A huge fucking problem."
Sam's eyebrows shot up, as all anger suddenly vanished from his face. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable. "Um...wow. Geez Dean, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to...Look man, I didn't mean to say you have a problem. I mean, yeah, this shit tonight has gotten a little...excessive. But I understand you have needs, man. I mean, what with the lifestyle we live and all...You've gotta take the edge off sometimes, I get that..."
Dean rubbed hard at his forehead, as if trying to erase this entire verbal exchange permanently from his brain. "Dude, please just...stop talking, alright? That's not what I'm talking about. At all. I'm trying to tell you - I think I've been cursed here, Sammy. I think we missed something today back at that house."
Sam stared blankly at Dean. "Cursed? Like...how? You mean..." Sam gestured vaguely at the protrusion beneath Dean's boxer shorts.
Dean shrugged and nodded an affirmative. "I just...I've tried everything. I can't get it to go away. I'm not even fucking horny, dude. And...it hurts like hell, too," he admitted. "I can't even take a piss, man. I...I don't know what the fuck to do here, Sammy." If it was physically possible for Dean's face to turn a darker shade of red, it would be happening at that very moment.
Sam looked on at Dean incredulously. "So, what you're telling me is...you've been cursed with a never-ending boner?" Sam frowned. "That...sounds kind of farfetched, Dean. What makes you think this has anything to do with that house? We were only there for about ten minutes."
Dean cleared his throat. "Because, uh..." Dean sighed. "You gotta promise not to give me any shit about this, Sam."
Sam frowned. "About what?"
"Ok, so...When we were at the house today, I swiped a few pills from the medicine cabinet, all right?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "What kind of pills? Like, narcotics? Or...something illegal?" Sam's stomach started to churn. "Shit Dean, have you been-"
"No, no...nothing like that." Dean averted his eyes to the ceiling. "It was...Aw, fuck me." Dean rubbed his hand over his face and shot daggers into Sam's eyes. "It was fucking Viagra, all right? Are you happy now, jackass?"
Sam looked on at his brother with his mouth gaping open, completely taken aback. That was pretty much the last thing he expected to come out of Dean's mouth. Sam shook his head and cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say in response.
Dean continued. "The shit was cursed, Sammy. You need to get back to that house, before..." Dean shuddered before completing his thought. He didn't really want to think about what might happen if they couldn't figure out how to fix this.
Sam raised a calming hand towards his increasingly panicked brother. "Ok, hold up a second. Let's take a step back from this before we jump to conclusions. This might not even be something supernatural, Dean. It could just be, like...a medical problem or something. How many of those pills did you take?"
Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Three or four, maybe?"
Sam's eyes widened. "Three or four?" He scratched his head. "That... kind of sounds like a lot, Dean. How many did the instructions tell you to take?"
Dean shrugged again. "Not sure. I didn't look at it all that closely... Just grabbed some pills out of the box and hauled ass."
"You did...what? Fuck, Dean!" Sam smacked his forehead audibly with his hand. "What the hell were you thinking, man? You can't just...." Sam stopped himself, and simply shook his head in utter bafflement. This wasn't the time to yell at Dean for his reckless stupidity - there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, he had to get to the bottom of this. "Where are the pills now, Dean?"
"I took 'em all already. There were only four in the pack."
"Four, then" Sam murmured to himself. "Did you look at the dosage? That should have been on the packaging somewhere."
Dean looked up to the ceiling, pursing his lips slightly. "Uh...it said 100..something. 100 milligrams, I think?"
That was enough information for Sam to start with. He sat down at his computer, and began clicking away at the keyboard. Dean tottered over to the bed and awkwardly maneuvered himself onto the mattress. "Sam I swear, you ever breath a word of this to anyone, I will kick your ass so goddamn hard...."
Sam's face remained fixated on the computer screen, apparently oblivious to Dean's threats. "How long has your erection lasted, Dean?"
Dean groaned, as he threw his forearm over his face.. "Saaam...you can't ask me that shit all point-blank like that, man. Spare me a little fucking dignity here, would you?"
Sam worked his jaw, then took in a slow, deep breath. "This is no picnic for me either, Dean. Now quit making this harder..." Sam cleared his throat "...Uh, more difficult for both of us. So how long?"
"Shit, I don't know....four hours, maybe five? I was asleep part of the time...I really don't think it ever went away, though."
Several minutes later, Sam closed his laptop, and rested his elbows on the table, pressing his clasped hands against his chin. The room remained silent for several seconds.
Dean shifted uncomfortably on the bed, then finally let out a loud sigh. "Well, don't leave me in suspense here, man. Am I gonna live, or what? What's the verdict?"
Sam turned towards his brother. "The verdict? The verdict is that you royally fucked up here, Dean. We need to get you to a hospital, and right now."
A humorless laugh burst out of Dean. "Yeah right, Sam. There is no fucking way I am going anywhere like this." Dean gestured his arms vaguely towards his lower half of his body.
Sam glanced towards his brother, then quickly averted his eyes towards the mold stains on the wall next to him, which proved to be a much less disturbing focal point. "Listen, man. That dose you took was the highest dose of Viagra available on the market. Just one of those was probably too much for you to take. And you took four of them."
"Viagra overdose is a big deal, dude," Sam continued, his eyes roaming around the room uncomfortably as he spoke. "And you can't just sit around here and wait for this to go away, either. Maintaining an erection for over four hours can cause permanent damage to your..." Sam shifted his weight and rubbed his forehead. "...Your, uh, penis. It's called priapism. The increased blood flow that is causing your....erection is trapped inside your penis, and it isn't able to drain back out. That's why you can't get it down, man. If you don't get this taken care of right away, you could be looking at permanent erectile dysfunction, disfigurement of your penis..."
As Sam droned on, Dean took the pillow from beneath his head and pressed it hard against his face. If the words "your penis" came out of Sam's mouth one more time, Dean was pretty sure he was going to have to put a bullet in his own brain, to put himself out of his misery. The kid sure had a talent for taking an already uncomfortable situation and making it flat-out unbearable. As if that wasn't bad enough, Sam had started talking in that empathetic, ultra-therapeutic voice that made Dean want to gag under normal circumstances. At the moment, it just made Dean want to climb into a hole and die.
As Sam spoke, however, the gravity of the situation hit Dean like a sledgehammer. Permanent erectile dysfunction? Disfigurement? Holy fucking Christ!
Dean quickly realized that he had zero other options in this matter. He had to go, and there were no two ways about it. As if this night hadn't been humiliating enough...
"Dean? Come on man, get it together. Didn't you hear what I just said? Permanent erectile dysfunction, dude. You don't want to end up-"
Dean waved his arm sharply in the air to cut Sam off, and peeked one eye out from beneath the pillow. "Shut the hell up, Sam. I'll go. I'll fucking go, alright? Just...stop talking about it, would you?"
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Sam shifted his rear end in the hard plastic ER chair, in a vain attempt to find a tolerable position. It had been several hours since the brothers arrived, with Dean clad in Sam's loose-fitting sweatpants, and not-so-discreetly draping his leather jacket over the front of his lower body. The waiting room was filled to the brim with grumbling, ailing patients, and it was a testament to the severity of Dean situation when he was promptly ushered into an exam room several minutes after whispering his situation into the nurse's ear at the ER desk.
Of the many times in his life that Sam had accompanied Dean to the ER (at least in a conscious state), this was the first time that Dean expressly banned his brother from his exam room. Dean despised hospitals, and (although he would never admit it) he especially hated being left alone in them while having to receive medical treatment. Even though it had never been said outright, there was always an unspoken understanding within the Winchester family that Dean was never left by himself in a hospital room, if the matter could be at all helped.
Apparently, an ER visit that centered it's entire focus on Dean's traumatized dick would prove to be an exception to this rule.
"Mr. Scholz?"
Sam stood up and waved his index finger towards the young blonde doctor who had poked her head into the waiting room. She nodded her head, indicating for Sam to follow her.
Sam followed the attractive young doctor through the automated ER doors, and took her proffered hand into his. "Mr. Scholz, my name is Dr. Allen. I'm the physician who has been overseeing your brother's treatment for his condition."
Sam nodded. "So, is my brother going to be alright? I mean, is his, um...you know. Is he..." Sam stumbled on his worlds helplessly, and was grateful when Dr. Allen put her hand out and smiled.
"Your brother is going to be fine. It is a very good thing that he didn't wait any longer to seek treatment, though. I was concerned at first that he may require emergency surgery to have a shunt placed, in order to restore the circulation to his penis. But thankfully, he responded very well to more conservative treatment. We first aspirated some of the trapped blood from the penis. Then, we were able to re-establish circulation through a series of medication injections and saline flushes to the affected area. As things look right now, I do not believe he will suffer any long-term damage."
Sam subconsciously hovered his hand over his own genital region as he listened to Dr. Allen recount the disturbing details of his brother's ER experience thus far. Good God. Dean always hated shots to begin with... The thought of the ER staff poking needles into his brother's dick was making Sam's own penis twinge in sympathy. Sam tried to smile at Dr. Allen, although he was sure it came out as a wince instead. "Thank you. That's...that's great. Uh, so anyway... Does he still have that crazy flushing to his face? Is that something we need to be concerned about?"
Dr. Allen's eyes widened. "Oh, yes. How could I forget? He certainly looks a fright, doesn't he?" She chuckled. "Facial flushing is not an uncommon side effect of Viagra. Your brother is apparently quite sensitive to the medication to begin with. The excessive dose that he consumed greatly augmented that particular reaction. I know his appearance is alarming, but your brother will be fine. The flushing should subside within the next day or so. Make sure he drinks plenty of non-caffeinated fluids during that time. Applying cold compresses to his face will help with his hot flashes until they subside."
Hot flashes. Sam had to hold back a snicker on that one. He suddenly felt like he was discussing a post-menopausal woman instead of his twenty-seven year old brother. "Thanks, Dr. Allen. I really appreciate all of your help. Can I go see my brother now?"
"Not just yet, Mr. Scholz. I have an important matter to discuss with you first." Dr. Allen gave Sam a stern look that suddenly made Sam very uneasy. "I already talked with your brother about this, but I think it is important to discuss this matter with you as well. You do know that it can be very dangerous for a person to take medicine that is not prescribed to them, do you not?"
Sam nodded firmly. "Yes, of course. And believe me, I'm going to have a long talk with my brother about this when we get home."
Dr. Allen frowned. "Mr. Scholz, it is very important that you do not share your own prescription medication with anybody else. Not your brother, not anyone. Not only is it dangerous, but it is also illegal. And it was especially dangerous giving him the medication without informing him of the recommended dosing requirements."
"My medication?" Sam let out a nervous laugh. "There must be some mistake. That wasn't my Viagra. It was, uh...given to him by a friend."
Dr. placed a hand on Sam's arm and gave him a sympathetic smile. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Mr. Scholz. There are some things in life that are not within our control. But if your brother is having similar issues to those that you have been having, he needs to see his own physician about getting a prescription filled."
Oh no, he didn't. Goddamit Dean, you friggin jerk. Sam felt the skin on the back of his neck heating up, as all concern and worry for his brother was abruptly forgotten.
To Sam's dismay, Dr. Allen pressed on. "It is possible that some hereditary factors may be at the root of the problem for you boys, you both being so young and all. You may want to speak to your physician further about that possibility."
Sam was speechless. He wanted nothing more than to march into his brother's hospital room at that very moment, and punch him in his bright red nose. Sam started to protest his innocence in the matter once again, but stopped himself. It was obvious that whatever Dean had told Dr. Allen, Sam was not going to convince her of anything otherwise. Finally, Sam forced a tight smile and nodded. "Yes ma'am. We'll uh, look into that. Thank you."
Dr. Allen nodded, appearing satisfied. "Your brother is very lucky he didn't sustain permanent injury. The injections we administered will often cause some lingering pain for several days, so I'm going to write a prescription for Vicodin for him to take at home. Your brother is allowing visitors now, so you can go see him if you'd like."
Oh, goody. Sam had half a mind to drive back to the hotel and leave the bastard's sorry ass at the hospital. He should have known that Dean would find a way to pawn some of his humiliation off on Sam. Sam begrudgingly stomped his way down the hall to his brother's exam room.
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Sam entered the room to find Dean sitting cross-legged in the bed, clad in a frumpy, wrinkled hospital gown, a threadbare hospital blanket draped over the lower half of his body. His face appeared to take on a glowing, scarlet hue beneath the harsh, fluorescent hospital lighting.
Dean raised an eyebrow towards his brother and smiled sheepishly, although his face was drawn and weary. "He'ya, Sam. What do you say we blow this popsicle stand? I've had about all the excitement I can stand for one night."
Sam shrugged. "We might as well wait a little longer. Your doctor is getting ready to discharge you, and she's gonna write you a prescription for some painkillers. Sounds like you're gonna need them, and our supply's just about out."
Dean raised one eyebrow towards Sam, cringing just a little. "Sooo...You, uh, talked to the doc then, did you?"
Sam crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, I talked to her alright. And she ripped me a new one for recklessly supplying my poor, innocent brother with near-lethal doses of Viagra. Very funny, Dean."
Dean smirked, though his downcast eyes betrayed his attempt at levity. His voice came out uncharacteristically timid, and wavered just a bit as he spoke. "Aw, c'mon now. You're not gonna get your panties in a wad over that, are you Sammy?"
Sam, who up until that moment, was on the verge of blowing a fuse with his brother, stopped short as he looked Dean squarely in the face. As was often the case with his brother, Dean's eyes were speaking words that Dean's voice had too much pride to say. And they spoke loud and clear.
Please Sam... Don't call me out on this one. Don't make me talk about this any more. Just drive my humiliated ass back to the hotel and let me try to forget that this whole fucking night ever happened.
It was suddenly clear to Sam that Dean's little practical joke with the doctor was more a matter of self-preservation than it was a prank at Sam's expense. It was an asshole move on his part, to be sure, and Sam was certain Dean got at least a small kick out of the whole thing. But every instinct in Sam's body was telling him that he needed to let this one go, for his brother's sake.
And so he did.
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The sun was shining high over the Impala by the time the brothers were making their way from the hospital back to their hotel room. Sam kept throwing casual glances at Dean, who was sprawled out uncomfortably in the passenger side of the car. After about the twentieth such glance, Dean glared back at Sam and huffed. "There a reason you keep gawking at my ass, dude?"
Sam cleared his throat. "Actually Dean, I uh...I wanted to talk to you about last night."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on Sam, we don't need to do this. I swear to God, I learned my lesson on this one. I won't take random pills anymore without checking the directions first. Trust me, you have no worries about this, dude. I don't ever want to go through something like this again."
"I know, Dean. I figured that much. That wasn't what I meant. I just wanted to see if...you know...if there was anything you needed to talk about."
Dean scowled. "Jesus, Sam. No, there is nothing I want to talk about. I know what you're getting at, and I am absolutely not having this conversation with you. Not now, not ever. So just fucking drop it already, will you?"
Sam sighed. "Fine." Silence filled the car for all of ten seconds, but Sam couldn't help himself. There was something he needed to get off his chest. "Hey man...Will you please just let me say one thing? Just one, and I promise not to mention it ever again."
Sam watched Dean's body stiffen for several seconds. Finally he let out a long sigh. "Whatever. Shoot."
"Dude I just want to say... Just...Don't be so hard on yourself about this, alright? You've really been through a lot of shit lately. We both have. I mean, after losing Dad, the accident, and...shit, all of this other crap piling up on us...This was all bound to fuck us up in one way or another. So, whatever is going on with you, just...be patient with yourself, all right? We'll get through this, man. All of it."
Silence filled the car, and a pair of bright green eyes flickered over towards Sam. "You done now?"
Sam shrugged, then nodded.
"Good. Because if the point of that lovely chick-flick moment was to make me grow a vagina, I wish you would have gotten to it sooner. Would have saved me a buttload of trouble last night."
Sam shook his head, and snorted a laugh. Dean just rolled his eyes, stretched his legs in front of him, and turned his head towards the window.
Sam glanced over to take stock of his brother one last time. Dean was sitting in silence, gazing out the window, a neutral, yet hardened expression fixed on his face. Sam sighed. He already missed the short-lived spark of playful, excitable energy from his brother the day before. At least it gave Sam hope that this part of Dean was still alive inside of him, somewhere. But it appeared the brothers were back to their current status quo, for the time being. Under the circumstances, Sam still considered that a win.