a Dean-focused hurt/comfort comment meme (#6)
YESSS. \o/
This wasn’t supposed to happen for a few more weeks, but then we realized there's a mini-hiatus right now. Let's fill it with h/c goodness!
( Read more... )
This wasn’t supposed to happen for a few more weeks, but then we realized there's a mini-hiatus right now. Let's fill it with h/c goodness!
( Read more... )
The thought of feeling nothing below his ankles should be terrifying, but Dean thinks Sam has that covered enough for both of them. For now, he'll merely grouse about having to be carried back to the car.
"You can't even stand, and I'm not going to have you attempting to break your toes off." Sam huffs into the cold, struggling against his brother's weight and the chilly wind that makes him tuck his chin closer to his brothers face. "So suck it up."
Definitely not in the teasing mood. Dean shivered until they reached the road, silently listening to Sam's frustrated grunting. "Stupid older brother....stupid thin ice...of course, he never SAYS anything..."
Once they reach the Impala, Sam knows he needs to work quickly- the sooner the extremities are warmed, the more tissue is likely to be saved.
Dean's wets boots refuse to slide off after Sam's third tug, prompting
Dean to exclaim-
"Du-du-de, you are not gonna-" and then knife met Gore-tex, and the Winchester was down a pair of shoes. The socks were easier to peel off, the soaked white cotton pulling bits of skin of with them. What awaited underneath made Dean cough and Sam want to gag.
Each of Dean's toes and the top of his feet were completely black, the darkened skin bleeding into puffy irritated red that spread all the way to his heel and lower leg.
"Looks a-a-almost like a burnnn," Dean muses in a way that is carefully controlled not-panic, because seriously, how can those frigid ebony digits be attached to his body?
"Its similar damage," Sam explains, gently cradling a frostbitten foot with a towel. The skin is taut, and Sam can tell the puffiness is caused by fluid accumulating under the damaged layers. "Can you feel anything at all?"
"I've got na-na-naada below the end of my jeans."
"Shit. We're heading to the Hospital. We need to get you warm-Now."
Dean invariably protests as Sam wraps his bare feet loosely in the dry terri-cloth.
"But-"
"Nu-uh. Not messing around with this."
"We can just-"
Sam shuts Dean up by putting a hand over his mouth, glove and all.
"No arguing. You don't want me to have to call you 'Stumpy' for the rest of your life, do you? You cant afford to lose that much height anyway."
Dean spits into Sam's palm.
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The fact that the brunette doesnt even try to separate the brothers earns her brownie points in Sam's book. What she does instead is usher them into a tiny room with a spa tub, turning on the jet function. The bathmat is covered with ducks and sailboats. Sam settles Dean on the edge of the green fiber glass rim, making sure his brother's feet are fully submerged.
"The moving water helps promote circulation," the nurse-Laurie, her name tag reads- tells them cheerfully, excusing herself to find the doctor.
"I c-c-can't tell if my feet are touching the bottom-m-m," Dean says with a frown and a shudder- the heat is rising off the water, reminding the rest of his body that it was cold too. "That's a m-may-ajor downer in this hot tub plus-s-s cute chick scene. Oh wait, you're here too." Sam smirks, rubbing his hands over Dean's back and arms to help him warm up.
"Don't think your lecherous eye is gonna work on this one, although maybe if you ask nice, she'll add some bubbles."
"Laurie didn't give me much to work with," a woman's voice said from the doorway as the doctor entered, taking a seat beside Dean on the tub rim, holding out a hand. "So I guess I'll start the introductions. I'm Adrianne."
Dr. Adrianne Hentson turned out to be a composed, sharp looking woman in her 50's, with graying shoulder length hair and a calm, unhurried approach which helped ease the tension.
"Sam."
"D-Dean." He lifts one knee to drag his frozen foot above water, and points to his toes.
"Fud-d-ggsicles."
Dr Hentson laughs a little in sympathy. "Give them a couple hours and some heat, and they'll be turning into hotdogs, trust me. Why don't you tell me what happened while I get some numbers, and we'll go from there?"
Between the two of them, they manage to stick as close to the truth as possible-hiking,thin ice, no faster way out of the cold. Dr. Hentson nods where appropriate, taking Dean's pulse, blood pressure and temperature, which has Dean hovering just above 95F.
Compared to his feet, the cold of the stethoscope against his back should be marginal, but goosebumps still break out along Dean's arms.
He breathes and holds and shivers through four repetitions.
"You're mostly stable, which is good- everything is just a little slow or low due how cold you are. How 'bout we trade you that jacket for a gown and a pre-warmed blanket? The jeans we'll have to worry about later."
Laurie comes back briefly with an IV set up for Dean and paperwork for Sam, but even as the room crowds with four people, no one tells Sam to leave. The youngest Winchester swears to give this place five star reviews on Google.
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"Shouldn't I be feeling something by now?" Dean's teeth have stopped chattering, but he holds the blanket close around his shoulders, smelling like warm fabric softener.
"Give the water some more time to work," Dr. Hentson told him, adding a bag of antibiotics to the IV. "And don't rush it- you'll either feel nothing, or you'll feel absolutely everything. The latter's the better option, but we'll try to keep ahead of the pain. Laurie, could you get Dean a 5 milligram morphine dose?"
"On it," Laurie answered, dashing to an outside cabinet and back. After administering the dose, the doctor took her leave. "I'll check on you in another 30 minutes or so- if total sensation hasn't been lost, you should definitely be feeling something by then."
"Thanks Doc," Sam calls after her, silence following as the brothers settle in to wait, staring into the churning bath water.
"Frostbite's a stupid way to loose a foot." Dean sighs after several long minutes. Sam raises an eyebrow. This he has to hear.
"And I suppose you know the best badass way of doing it?" Dean grins, moving water around the tub with his legs.
"Well, there's chainsaw juggling accidents, landmines, shark attacks-if you're going for only half a foot, that Kinte guy in the book gets the top part of his chopped off while running away from-"
"Wait-Kinte? As in Kunta Kinte? Dude, you read Roots?" Sam asks, slightly amazed, and this time Dean is hurting for another reason.
"Why are you always so surprised that I read?" Dean asks, miffed and tugging the blanket tighter. "I can use the library for more than research."
"Yeah- I uh-I realize that-" Sam's fumbling for an expression between amused and apologetic. "I'm not saying you're stupid man- I know you read. You like Vonnegaut, and I've seen you sneak a Clive Cussler mystery before- it's just not something you talk about very often, so it's hard to tell what books you know, what genres you like." And now Sam is smiling full on. "This your way of telling me you want a Kindle for Christmas?"
Dean snorts at the thought.
"It's a book you can't finish once the battery dies- what the hell kind of sense---"
Dean breaks off as the first wave of pain from his feet breaks through the combination of chilled tissue and morphine.
There is no gentle beginning tingle, like when your arm or leg falls asleep. This a sudden, agonizingly intense stinging sensation that leaves
Dean suddenly wheeling backward, sloshing water on his gown, the floor, his brother. "Damn it! Lemme out." The pain is firey, like flaming nails being driven into his feet from all angles. He yells as Sam carefully pins his legs back down into the tub. "G-D! Stop it!"
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"You gotta hang on, alright? This is good. Ssshhh. We were waiting for this, can't stop now."
Dean only shakes his head, crushing his face against the bathroom tile, clawing at the edge of the tub. His brother is ready to redirect- titling Dean closer so his head only hits Sam's chest, and not the wall, moves his brother's hands so fingers clench around his knee, and not the green fiberglass. Sam is right there as always, to be the cuddlier, taller brother, ready to help soften Dean's blows.
"Scream if you gotta man, its just me." Dean bites his tongue in an effort not to whimper.
"Shitthissucks OUTLOUD-FUCK!"
The pain reminds Dean of the time Alastair took a belt sander to the soles of his feet, skimming all the way down to the bone. His entire body is a live wire, ever inch of it trying to separate from the source of its pain, with only Sam there to ground him. His panting comes in short hard gasps as raw nerves alert him to the fact that something is very wrong with his feet. Thank you for nothing, he already knew that, now shut up!
"Gotta keep breathing, Dude," Sam encourages,attempting to ease his brother's increasing distress, looking nervously at the door as if that might make the nurse reappear. He rubs Dean's shoulders and back, feeling his muscles clenched tighted and heart hammering. "Feet won't matter much if the rest of you isn't around to use them. Come on, inhale and out."
"Uuunnn-neeeeeaagghhh!" is the pained, keening noise that emerges from Dean's throat, his eyes squeezed tight and breathing shallow. Sam can't take it anymore. He only leaves Dean's side for an instant, running to the hall to yell for Laurie to get the hell in here now. Upon his return, he immeadiately surrenders his arms to Dean's clawing fingers, feelingthe indents in his skin as his brother's hands clench and release with every heartbeat.
Soft rubber squeaking preceeds Laurie's entrance, and behind her is Dr. Hentson. "Dean? Come on gorgeous, I need you to look at me." She sits opposite Sam, counting Dean's pulse at his neck, evaluating her patient as she waited for him to open his eyes. Dean let out a breath through the pain, looking up at her, a smile breaking through his pinched features.
"Quite the flatterer-" his voice broke around a wince. "Aren't you Doc?" The doctor grinned back at him.
"Got my way, didn't I? You look like your pain's at about a 12 and a half right now. Laurie's going to give you a dose of something that'll knock you for a loop, but I need you to do something for me first. How much are you feeling- Can you wiggle your toes?"
Just the thought makes Dean's face scrunch up again, but Sam pats his knee in reassurance. "You can do it. Show the doc you'll be back to playing footsie in no time."
"Play footsie by kicking your arse..."Dean muttered, but with his brother's help, he lifts his bedraggled feet above the water. Sam stares expectantly, feeling the knot in his gut loosen as slowly -ever so slowly-the older Winchester manages to squish together first one set of bloated toes, then the other.
"Son.of.a.Bitch."
The effort leaves Dean sweating, falling back against Sam as Laurie flushes the IV before delivering the promised medication.
"You did good Dean." Sam soothes. "You did good."
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"I look like I'm getting a pedi at a girl's slumber party." Dean grumbles at his toes, carefully spaced and separated by gauze, his feet resting on a mountain of pillows to keep them elevated. "All spread out like that -like possum feet."
His toes are no longer black, thank deity, but they are swollen and resemble fat red-purple sausages. The outter layers of skin that didnt come off in the tub are either blistered and filled with fluid or peeling away in damaged,dead pieces. Recovery is still going to be a bitch.
"I could paint them if you wanted." Sam gamely offers, dodging the cushion that is thrown his direction. "Seriously though-John Mclane walking through that glass? His tootsies have nothing on you."
"Damn skippy." Dean grunts. "All 10 little Indians, present and accounted for."
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And hey mod/Maypoles, this isn't 'untitled'. Hence the 'one little two little three little Indians' Thanks ; )
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