Fic: Hunger's Pain (PG-13)
Title: Hunger's Pain
Author: Lexophilia
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 2K
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild profanity and mentions of bodily fluids
Summary: Written for the summer themed, Dean-focused h/c comment meme of goodness at hoodie_time based on the following prompt by maypoles:
Dean and Sam are camping (probably for a hunt) when a bear breaks into their cooler and steals all their beer and also the sandwiches Sam made JUST THE WAY DEAN LIKES SCREW YOU BEAR. Dean is epically angsty. And hungry.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dean hadn't been feeling his best when they'd received the call from Bobby to check out a case. Dean knew he was getting sick, but kept hoping whatever it was would pass quickly. He'd been hungry but unable to eat much, and the things he did eat made him feel sick. Yet, whenever he was able to eat an actual meal he never felt truly full, and he was starting to wonder if the hunger pains were real or just all in his head. Whatever it was, it wasn't important. People were dying, so the achy head and iffy stomach he'd been doing his best to hide from his brother over the past couple weeks had to take a back seat.
They'd hiked into the woods the day before and had planned on scouting the area for no longer than 24 hours before heading back. Sam had been very careful in packing their provisions, but a massive black bear made sure the only things they were left with were the clothes on their backs and their duffel of weapons between them.
They both made note that suspending your belongs from a tree didn't keep bears from getting to them.
Dean's stomach had been rolling with hunger and something else he couldn't exactly pinpoint as they headed back to their camp site. They'd just spent the entire morning searching the nearby wooded area for signs of whatever it was that had been mangling the bodies of campers in the area. The local authorities were blaming the deaths on animal attacks; however, the Winchesters knew animals weren't as methodical and specific in only ripping open the stomach and removing only the liver.
Dean knows that he and his brother are fortunate to have gotten away from the deadly bear they'd almost surprised without being detected. He counts it as the one small blessing in a crappy situation.
At the moment, Dean Winchester has never hated the woods as much as he does now. He hates the sticky, disgusting, absolutely sweltering heat of Georgia in July. It feels like he's sweating all over. Hell, he is sweating all over. His jeans, t-shirt, and over shirt are currently doing their best impression of a barnacle on a boat with how they are sticking to his skin. There's only one thing Dean hates more than hot Georgia summers and walking through the woods in sweat damp clothes through the damn woods at the moment...bears. Dean really, really hates bears right about now...with their massive bodies and their razor sharp claws and their greedy food and beer stealing asses. Not to mention that he no longer has access to the pain relievers and antacids he's been popping like candy whenever Sam had his back turned.
An hour or so into their hike back to the car, Dean starts to feel his health going downhill and going downhill fast. With the way he's sweating, he knows he's probably dehydrated. His legs are burning from exertion. And he's also starving, not having been able to eat anything that morning and only having been able to eat just a little the night before they'd settled down in their now destroyed tent.
He knows that even if they keep up a steady pace, it's still going to take them another hour or so to make it back to the car. Dean does his best to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other even though it's becoming more and more difficult for him to do so at a normal rate and pace. His head is pounding and his stomach is starting to make louder and more frequent complaints.
The first few times Sam hears his brother's stomach growling loudly behind him, he keeps walking and doesn't mention it. He's starting to feel the slightest hint of hunger himself, but he knows neither of them has any food on them, and they both only have a little water left between them in their canteens. If the circumstances were different, he knows they would need to stop and rest but with the heat, no real shade, and just a little bit of water between them, to continue moving is better than stopping.
They've been walking for another fifteen minutes or so when Dean's stomach emits another series of deep rumbling growls in the hopes of receiving something to fill the growing void. Sam hears his brother grunt and when he turns around, Dean is bent over slightly, one hand on his knee while the other is clutching at his stomach.
“You okay, man?” Sam asks as he walks over to his brother and places his hand on his back. It's hot out and both of them are sweating, but Sam's shocked by just how drenched the back of Dean's shirt is. Touching his brother back also allows him to feel how his brother's muscles are trembling, and Sam's worry for his brother instantly increases.
“Talk to me.” Sam says as Dean finally straightens, one hand falling to his side while the other still rests on top of his stomach.
“I'm okay,” Dean says as he removes the hand from his stomach to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I'm just really hungry, I guess. Let's keep moving.” Dean says as he moves to walk past Sam but ends up in his brother's arms as he sways while walking by him and loses his balance, knees going weak and body starting to fold.
“Woah, woah, hey! Easy.” Sam says as he lowers them both to the ground with a graceless thump, arms still wrapped around his brother.
“I love you but not like that, Samantha.” Dean says as he tries his best to focus his blurry eyes on his brother's face. His stomach is actually hurting with how empty it feels. Sam's arms are still wrapped around him and it's a good thing because he's hit with a major cramp in his gut that has him doubling over in his brother's arms.
“Dean! Dean!” Sam shouts a little too loudly for Dean's pounding head as his grip tightens around Dean to keep him from tumbling over.
“It's my stomach, Sam. Something's wrong. I feel so damn hungry, but - but something's wrong.” Dean says as a sick feeling of nausea causes his mouth to fill with saliva and bile threatens its way up his esophagus.
“Sit up a little, if you can.” Sam says as he helps his brother sit up straighter. Sam places his hand under his brother's shirt and carefully begins to palpitate his abdomen. Right away he notices Dean's stomach is unusually firm and slightly bloated to the touch.
Sam knows that his brother is truly ill because he would have otherwise made some comment about Sam 'feeling him up' or 'handling the merchandise.' Sam knows that his brother is truly ill because in the few minutes they've been sitting on the ground surrounded by massive trees, Dean's face has started to lose its color making his hated freckles stand out even more in contrast to his rapidly whitening pallor. Sam know that his brother is truly ill, and they have to get out of these woods as soon as possible so he can get him to a doctor.
“Come on, man. Let's get you standing and see if we can get the hell out of here.” Sam says as he stands, pulling his brother to a standing position as they both finally get off the ground. Dean moves like it hurts like hell, but after a few moments of standing with Sam supporting him he finally feels like the ground isn't going to be snatched from underneath his feet.
“Here. Drink some water. It may help.” Sam says as he unscrews the lid to his canteen and brings it to his brother's lips. Dean raises one shaky hand and is able to pretty much hold onto the container himself even if Sam still helps. His first gulp of water is a large one and he instantly realizes his mistake when it lands solidly in his stomach and causes the already cramping organ to spasm within him.
“I - I can't.” Dean says as he pushes the canteen back into his brother's hands and instantly leans over to grab his knees as he weakly vomits pink water a few inches away from his own boots. Neither of them can deny the red streaks in the watery pink vomit, and both of them know what it is from seeing a lifetime of it as part of the family business.
“Dean.” Sam says on a sigh. He knows what this is, and he know why it's happening. Their lives have been more hectic than usual the past few month since leaving Bobby's house following their father's death. Dean's always been prone to ulcers, especially when he's not eating enough and running his body into the ground. In hindsight, Sam realizes his brother has been doing both and a strong wave of guilt hits him as he realizes that maybe he hasn't been as attentive to Dean's needs as he should have been.
“I think it may be your ulcer. Why didn't you tell me it was bad again?” Sam says as he uses his own sleeve to wipe the corner of his brother's mouth.
“Gross, dude. Get off me.” Dean says as they slowly start walking again, Sam's hand at his elbow for support, but there's no venom at all in his words.
“You need to take better care of yourself.” Sam says as they slowly make their way towards their destination.
“Honestly, I didn't know. I thought maybe I was just coming down with a bug or something. And stop mothering me, bitch.” Dean says.
“Less whining and more walking, jerk.” Sam says as he allows his hand to move from his brother's elbow to his waist, and it's a true testament of just how horrible Dean is feeling when he once again doesn't complain.
They walk in silence for a little while before Dean's stomach lets out another pitiful sounding growl.
“Stupid bear ate my sandwich.” Dean says as he moves his hand back to his aching stomach.
“He ate my sandwich, too.” Sam says as he steals a glance over at his brother's face and is relieved that his color is starting to improve a little, if not by much. Sam can do this. He can do this easy banter between them both and pretend that nothing is wrong. He can pretend that his brother doesn't have painful sores in his guts from not eating right and from not dealing with his emotions. This banter he can do. He can do it because the other stuff is just too painful to deal with at the moment.
“That damn bear ate my sandwich and drank my beer.” Dean says as he stumbles slightly before being righted by his brother.
If Sam hadn't seen it for himself, he never would have believed it. But as they'd both approached the clearing where their now destroyed camp site was, they'd both seen the giant bear smash a massive paw down on the six pack and then place its mouth over the violent spray from the punctured cans.
“You think we have to worry about the drunk bear getting us?” Dean asks, a slight smirk on his face dimmed by the fact that he looks like he's about to drop at any moment.
“No, Dean. I don't think we have to worry about the bear.” Sam says as he finally sees the Impala glistening like a welcoming beacon in the distance.
“We don't have to worry about the bear.” Sam repeats, this time looking over at his struggling brother and wishing there was something he could do to take away his pain.
~the end~
Author: Lexophilia
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 2K
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild profanity and mentions of bodily fluids
Summary: Written for the summer themed, Dean-focused h/c comment meme of goodness at hoodie_time based on the following prompt by maypoles:
Dean and Sam are camping (probably for a hunt) when a bear breaks into their cooler and steals all their beer and also the sandwiches Sam made JUST THE WAY DEAN LIKES SCREW YOU BEAR. Dean is epically angsty. And hungry.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dean hadn't been feeling his best when they'd received the call from Bobby to check out a case. Dean knew he was getting sick, but kept hoping whatever it was would pass quickly. He'd been hungry but unable to eat much, and the things he did eat made him feel sick. Yet, whenever he was able to eat an actual meal he never felt truly full, and he was starting to wonder if the hunger pains were real or just all in his head. Whatever it was, it wasn't important. People were dying, so the achy head and iffy stomach he'd been doing his best to hide from his brother over the past couple weeks had to take a back seat.
They'd hiked into the woods the day before and had planned on scouting the area for no longer than 24 hours before heading back. Sam had been very careful in packing their provisions, but a massive black bear made sure the only things they were left with were the clothes on their backs and their duffel of weapons between them.
They both made note that suspending your belongs from a tree didn't keep bears from getting to them.
Dean's stomach had been rolling with hunger and something else he couldn't exactly pinpoint as they headed back to their camp site. They'd just spent the entire morning searching the nearby wooded area for signs of whatever it was that had been mangling the bodies of campers in the area. The local authorities were blaming the deaths on animal attacks; however, the Winchesters knew animals weren't as methodical and specific in only ripping open the stomach and removing only the liver.
Dean knows that he and his brother are fortunate to have gotten away from the deadly bear they'd almost surprised without being detected. He counts it as the one small blessing in a crappy situation.
At the moment, Dean Winchester has never hated the woods as much as he does now. He hates the sticky, disgusting, absolutely sweltering heat of Georgia in July. It feels like he's sweating all over. Hell, he is sweating all over. His jeans, t-shirt, and over shirt are currently doing their best impression of a barnacle on a boat with how they are sticking to his skin. There's only one thing Dean hates more than hot Georgia summers and walking through the woods in sweat damp clothes through the damn woods at the moment...bears. Dean really, really hates bears right about now...with their massive bodies and their razor sharp claws and their greedy food and beer stealing asses. Not to mention that he no longer has access to the pain relievers and antacids he's been popping like candy whenever Sam had his back turned.
An hour or so into their hike back to the car, Dean starts to feel his health going downhill and going downhill fast. With the way he's sweating, he knows he's probably dehydrated. His legs are burning from exertion. And he's also starving, not having been able to eat anything that morning and only having been able to eat just a little the night before they'd settled down in their now destroyed tent.
He knows that even if they keep up a steady pace, it's still going to take them another hour or so to make it back to the car. Dean does his best to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other even though it's becoming more and more difficult for him to do so at a normal rate and pace. His head is pounding and his stomach is starting to make louder and more frequent complaints.
The first few times Sam hears his brother's stomach growling loudly behind him, he keeps walking and doesn't mention it. He's starting to feel the slightest hint of hunger himself, but he knows neither of them has any food on them, and they both only have a little water left between them in their canteens. If the circumstances were different, he knows they would need to stop and rest but with the heat, no real shade, and just a little bit of water between them, to continue moving is better than stopping.
They've been walking for another fifteen minutes or so when Dean's stomach emits another series of deep rumbling growls in the hopes of receiving something to fill the growing void. Sam hears his brother grunt and when he turns around, Dean is bent over slightly, one hand on his knee while the other is clutching at his stomach.
“You okay, man?” Sam asks as he walks over to his brother and places his hand on his back. It's hot out and both of them are sweating, but Sam's shocked by just how drenched the back of Dean's shirt is. Touching his brother back also allows him to feel how his brother's muscles are trembling, and Sam's worry for his brother instantly increases.
“Talk to me.” Sam says as Dean finally straightens, one hand falling to his side while the other still rests on top of his stomach.
“I'm okay,” Dean says as he removes the hand from his stomach to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I'm just really hungry, I guess. Let's keep moving.” Dean says as he moves to walk past Sam but ends up in his brother's arms as he sways while walking by him and loses his balance, knees going weak and body starting to fold.
“Woah, woah, hey! Easy.” Sam says as he lowers them both to the ground with a graceless thump, arms still wrapped around his brother.
“I love you but not like that, Samantha.” Dean says as he tries his best to focus his blurry eyes on his brother's face. His stomach is actually hurting with how empty it feels. Sam's arms are still wrapped around him and it's a good thing because he's hit with a major cramp in his gut that has him doubling over in his brother's arms.
“Dean! Dean!” Sam shouts a little too loudly for Dean's pounding head as his grip tightens around Dean to keep him from tumbling over.
“It's my stomach, Sam. Something's wrong. I feel so damn hungry, but - but something's wrong.” Dean says as a sick feeling of nausea causes his mouth to fill with saliva and bile threatens its way up his esophagus.
“Sit up a little, if you can.” Sam says as he helps his brother sit up straighter. Sam places his hand under his brother's shirt and carefully begins to palpitate his abdomen. Right away he notices Dean's stomach is unusually firm and slightly bloated to the touch.
Sam knows that his brother is truly ill because he would have otherwise made some comment about Sam 'feeling him up' or 'handling the merchandise.' Sam knows that his brother is truly ill because in the few minutes they've been sitting on the ground surrounded by massive trees, Dean's face has started to lose its color making his hated freckles stand out even more in contrast to his rapidly whitening pallor. Sam know that his brother is truly ill, and they have to get out of these woods as soon as possible so he can get him to a doctor.
“Come on, man. Let's get you standing and see if we can get the hell out of here.” Sam says as he stands, pulling his brother to a standing position as they both finally get off the ground. Dean moves like it hurts like hell, but after a few moments of standing with Sam supporting him he finally feels like the ground isn't going to be snatched from underneath his feet.
“Here. Drink some water. It may help.” Sam says as he unscrews the lid to his canteen and brings it to his brother's lips. Dean raises one shaky hand and is able to pretty much hold onto the container himself even if Sam still helps. His first gulp of water is a large one and he instantly realizes his mistake when it lands solidly in his stomach and causes the already cramping organ to spasm within him.
“I - I can't.” Dean says as he pushes the canteen back into his brother's hands and instantly leans over to grab his knees as he weakly vomits pink water a few inches away from his own boots. Neither of them can deny the red streaks in the watery pink vomit, and both of them know what it is from seeing a lifetime of it as part of the family business.
“Dean.” Sam says on a sigh. He knows what this is, and he know why it's happening. Their lives have been more hectic than usual the past few month since leaving Bobby's house following their father's death. Dean's always been prone to ulcers, especially when he's not eating enough and running his body into the ground. In hindsight, Sam realizes his brother has been doing both and a strong wave of guilt hits him as he realizes that maybe he hasn't been as attentive to Dean's needs as he should have been.
“I think it may be your ulcer. Why didn't you tell me it was bad again?” Sam says as he uses his own sleeve to wipe the corner of his brother's mouth.
“Gross, dude. Get off me.” Dean says as they slowly start walking again, Sam's hand at his elbow for support, but there's no venom at all in his words.
“You need to take better care of yourself.” Sam says as they slowly make their way towards their destination.
“Honestly, I didn't know. I thought maybe I was just coming down with a bug or something. And stop mothering me, bitch.” Dean says.
“Less whining and more walking, jerk.” Sam says as he allows his hand to move from his brother's elbow to his waist, and it's a true testament of just how horrible Dean is feeling when he once again doesn't complain.
They walk in silence for a little while before Dean's stomach lets out another pitiful sounding growl.
“Stupid bear ate my sandwich.” Dean says as he moves his hand back to his aching stomach.
“He ate my sandwich, too.” Sam says as he steals a glance over at his brother's face and is relieved that his color is starting to improve a little, if not by much. Sam can do this. He can do this easy banter between them both and pretend that nothing is wrong. He can pretend that his brother doesn't have painful sores in his guts from not eating right and from not dealing with his emotions. This banter he can do. He can do it because the other stuff is just too painful to deal with at the moment.
“That damn bear ate my sandwich and drank my beer.” Dean says as he stumbles slightly before being righted by his brother.
If Sam hadn't seen it for himself, he never would have believed it. But as they'd both approached the clearing where their now destroyed camp site was, they'd both seen the giant bear smash a massive paw down on the six pack and then place its mouth over the violent spray from the punctured cans.
“You think we have to worry about the drunk bear getting us?” Dean asks, a slight smirk on his face dimmed by the fact that he looks like he's about to drop at any moment.
“No, Dean. I don't think we have to worry about the bear.” Sam says as he finally sees the Impala glistening like a welcoming beacon in the distance.
“We don't have to worry about the bear.” Sam repeats, this time looking over at his struggling brother and wishing there was something he could do to take away his pain.
~the end~