Re: FILL: First Stitches 1.5evelyncarverMay 21 2014, 06:30:42 UTC
Note: I forgot to post this piece, oops.
"Keep driving." Dean ordered, the phone snapping shut. "Back to the motel."
"What did Dad say?" Sam asked, cautiously pressing down on the gas pedal again, and slowly coaxing the car down the road.
"Don't worry about it. We've got bigger problems." Dean took a deep breath. "It's going to be okay Sam. You're gonna help me, just get me home."
Sam drove faster this time. Still well below the speed limit, but the roads were empty and he stopped at red lights and stop signs and twenty minutes later he turned into the parking lot of the motel. Parking wasn't something he'd had a lot of practice at, but he pulled more or less straightly into the place in front of their room and turned the car off.
"Dean? We're here." He said, looking into the backseat.
"Good work." Dean whispered. "You need to unload the car. Bring me in last."
"Right." Sam nodded and took the room key out of his pocket. He brought in the first aid kit and the backup weapons. The big bottle of water and the cooler bag of food came in too. It was time for Dean.
"Careful." Dean warned, letting Sam tug him towards the open door of the car. His shirt was wet with blood and Sam marvelled at the cleanliness of the seat beneath him. "Wait." Dean ordered when his feet hit the ground. "Grab the blanket and the phone. We're gonna need them."
Sam wrapped the blanket around Dean and supported him as best as he could for the short distance from the car to the bed closest to the door.
"Bring me the first aid kit and go lock up the car." Dean ordered once he was situated on the bed.
Sam came back a minute later and secured the door behind him, making sure to pour an extra thick salt line in front of the door.
"Dean? Are you okay?" He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his heart speeding up at the sight of the ugly wound.
Dean managed a weak smile. "I'll be okay. Dad'll be back tomorrow. You'll have to go pick him up after sundown." He added, trying to take Sam's mind off of the immediate problem. "Now, I need your help."
Sam swallowed and glanced at the wound. "Yeah."
"Go wash your hands." Dean ordered as he sorted through the first aid kit and selected a few items. He tried to set things up a little for Sam, make his first time a little bit easier.
"Can't we just go to a hospital?" Sam asked, his fingers were dripping wet and he'd stripped down to just a t-shirt.
"Not bad enough, come here." Dean ordered, patting the bedspread beside him. "It's gonna be okay." He said as Sam's breath sped up. "We'll get through it together."
Sam nodded and took the bottle of whiskey that Dean pressed into his hands. "Do I have to?"
"I can't do it on my own." Dean answered. "It's too awkward. The stitches would be too tight."
"Yeah." Sam twisted the top off the bottle and grimaced as he looked at the wound again. "Do I have to?"
Dean bit his lip and pulled his hand off of the gash. The air stung and he could only imagine what the alcohol was going to feel like. "Don't let me down Sam."
"Here goes." Sam whispered and closed his eyes, his hand shaking as he extended the bottle.
"Open your eyes." Dean ordered. "Need to see what you're doing."
Sam blinked his eyes open a crack and turned the bottle so a slow stream dribbled out. At first the liquid just seemed to hang in the air, descending slowly down. It hit Dean's skin all at once and time started rushing past again.
"Uhhhh." Dean moaned, his fingers digging into the ugly comforter on the bed.
Re: FILL: First Stitches 1.5 1/2evelyncarverMay 21 2014, 06:31:34 UTC
Note: This chunk was really long.
"Dean, Dean, are you okay?" Sam plunked the bottle down on the bedside table. "I hurt you."
"Had to be done." Dean grunted. "Okay, what's next?"
Sam took a deep breath. His hands were shaking. "Pain meds, pain meds are next."
"Alcohol wipes." Dean ordered. "Get it cleaned out. Use the penlight to check for debris. Wipe down the skin on either side."
"Right, right." Sam tore at the packing of the wipes and tried to steady his hand as he wiped the blood gently away from Dean's skin. "Sorry, sorry." He murmured as Dean hissed. "I'm sorry."
"Just keep going." Dean said, closing his eyes and trying to relax, his muscles were too tense and they were still in the easy parts.
Sam dropped the dirty wipes into the room's garbage can and fished the bottle of pain pills out of the kit. "How many can you take?" He asked, opening the bottle to count the number of pills remaining.
"Not those." Dean waved his hand over the supplies he'd gotten out. "I need to help you through this. Here." He tapped the prefilled syringe. "You remember how to do this?"
"Lidocaine?" Sam asked, pulling the cap off the needle. "Goes in shallow, pull it out slow?" He added, trying to remember the last time that Dean had given him stitches.
"Keep driving." Dean ordered, the phone snapping shut. "Back to the motel."
"What did Dad say?" Sam asked, cautiously pressing down on the gas pedal again, and slowly coaxing the car down the road.
"Don't worry about it. We've got bigger problems." Dean took a deep breath. "It's going to be okay Sam. You're gonna help me, just get me home."
Sam drove faster this time. Still well below the speed limit, but the roads were empty and he stopped at red lights and stop signs and twenty minutes later he turned into the parking lot of the motel. Parking wasn't something he'd had a lot of practice at, but he pulled more or less straightly into the place in front of their room and turned the car off.
"Dean? We're here." He said, looking into the backseat.
"Good work." Dean whispered. "You need to unload the car. Bring me in last."
"Right." Sam nodded and took the room key out of his pocket. He brought in the first aid kit and the backup weapons. The big bottle of water and the cooler bag of food came in too. It was time for Dean.
"Careful." Dean warned, letting Sam tug him towards the open door of the car. His shirt was wet with blood and Sam marvelled at the cleanliness of the seat beneath him. "Wait." Dean ordered when his feet hit the ground. "Grab the blanket and the phone. We're gonna need them."
Sam wrapped the blanket around Dean and supported him as best as he could for the short distance from the car to the bed closest to the door.
"Bring me the first aid kit and go lock up the car." Dean ordered once he was situated on the bed.
Sam came back a minute later and secured the door behind him, making sure to pour an extra thick salt line in front of the door.
"Dean? Are you okay?" He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his heart speeding up at the sight of the ugly wound.
Dean managed a weak smile. "I'll be okay. Dad'll be back tomorrow. You'll have to go pick him up after sundown." He added, trying to take Sam's mind off of the immediate problem. "Now, I need your help."
Sam swallowed and glanced at the wound. "Yeah."
"Go wash your hands." Dean ordered as he sorted through the first aid kit and selected a few items. He tried to set things up a little for Sam, make his first time a little bit easier.
"Can't we just go to a hospital?" Sam asked, his fingers were dripping wet and he'd stripped down to just a t-shirt.
"Not bad enough, come here." Dean ordered, patting the bedspread beside him. "It's gonna be okay." He said as Sam's breath sped up. "We'll get through it together."
Sam nodded and took the bottle of whiskey that Dean pressed into his hands. "Do I have to?"
"I can't do it on my own." Dean answered. "It's too awkward. The stitches would be too tight."
"Yeah." Sam twisted the top off the bottle and grimaced as he looked at the wound again. "Do I have to?"
Dean bit his lip and pulled his hand off of the gash. The air stung and he could only imagine what the alcohol was going to feel like. "Don't let me down Sam."
"Here goes." Sam whispered and closed his eyes, his hand shaking as he extended the bottle.
"Open your eyes." Dean ordered. "Need to see what you're doing."
Sam blinked his eyes open a crack and turned the bottle so a slow stream dribbled out. At first the liquid just seemed to hang in the air, descending slowly down. It hit Dean's skin all at once and time started rushing past again.
"Uhhhh." Dean moaned, his fingers digging into the ugly comforter on the bed.
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"Dean, Dean, are you okay?" Sam plunked the bottle down on the bedside table. "I hurt you."
"Had to be done." Dean grunted. "Okay, what's next?"
Sam took a deep breath. His hands were shaking. "Pain meds, pain meds are next."
"Alcohol wipes." Dean ordered. "Get it cleaned out. Use the penlight to check for debris. Wipe down the skin on either side."
"Right, right." Sam tore at the packing of the wipes and tried to steady his hand as he wiped the blood gently away from Dean's skin. "Sorry, sorry." He murmured as Dean hissed. "I'm sorry."
"Just keep going." Dean said, closing his eyes and trying to relax, his muscles were too tense and they were still in the easy parts.
Sam dropped the dirty wipes into the room's garbage can and fished the bottle of pain pills out of the kit. "How many can you take?" He asked, opening the bottle to count the number of pills remaining.
"Not those." Dean waved his hand over the supplies he'd gotten out. "I need to help you through this. Here." He tapped the prefilled syringe. "You remember how to do this?"
"Lidocaine?" Sam asked, pulling the cap off the needle. "Goes in shallow, pull it out slow?" He added, trying to remember the last time that Dean had given him stitches.
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