The Burniest Person I Know, 2/2janissa11June 12 2012, 01:40:25 UTC
The blessed saint among ER docs finally pushes them out the door the next morning, with a positively saintly prescription for serious-ass painkillers. Dean's still Demerol-ed, so he wobbles in behind Sam at the pharmacy and waves an ID at the pharmacist, whose horrified expression puts paid to any assumption of habitual drug-seeking.
"Ow," she says, and flinches.
Sam sends him back to the car to wait, and emerges later with a big bag of shit. Dean nods and dozes on the way to the motel.
Sadly, the blessed Demerol fades into the ether an hour later. Dean wipes tears from his eyes and says, "I will pay you a million dollars, Sam. A million. If you will shoot me now."
Sam fiddles with a little jar from his bag. "How you gonna pay me when you're dead?"
"I swear, I swear to you I will find a way. Been dead before, it ain't that hard. Come on, just do it."
"Hang on."
For a second he thinks maybe Sam actually will. And then he has to try not to cry when Sam comes back with a wet washcloth instead.
"To pull the heat out. Lean forward."
The weird thing is, it helps a little. Not for long, but for a few seconds it's marginally better. He sits there -- because his days of lying down are over for the moment -- and lets Sam drape him in about twelve wet washcloths, then replace them with new wet cloths. Over and over again, until Dean thinks maybe he's going to live and possibly not have to change his forwarding address to the nearest burn ward.
Something aromatic penetrates his stupor. "Whuh."
"Jess got a burn a couple of times," Sam says, scooping out a couple fingers-ful of white cream. "She said this helps."
"S'for your face. Like, makeup."
"Hey, whatever helps."
The cream stinks, but it feels even better than the washcloths. Lasts longer.
He sighs and drinks a little nasty-ass Gatorade.
"You're a mess," Sam says, the soft, gently amused voice he uses when Dean's hurt, or sick. "You are the burniest person I have ever met, and you know better, man. What were you thinking?"
Wasn't, Dean thinks, but just makes a sound in his throat.
"Yeah, I know you weren't," Sam murmurs. "Drink your Gatorade."
Later Dean takes one of the excellent ER doctor's most fantastic prescription painkillers, but a tiny muddle-headed part of his brain thinks that all the remedies in the world won't beat the sound of Sam's voice, familiar and teasing and filled with love.
Re: The Burniest Person I Know, 2/2tifachingJune 12 2012, 01:56:55 UTC
"The fucker is fucking BRONZED. Light glances off his fucking biceps like he's some piece of goddamn Greek statuary or something" and "Sam's making anxious motions with his bronzed hands, bronzed face all pinched and puckery." Bwahaha! Perfect.
I love the description of poor sun poisoned Dean, with his hands like blistered hams. And drugs and wet washcloths and SAM make it all better.
This was schmooptastic! Thank you!
P.S. Noxema is the BOMB for sunburns. Jess was a smart girl!
Re: The Burniest Person I Know, 2/2mad_serverJune 12 2012, 05:06:32 UTC
Bahhhhh.
1. The plant prompt was totally made with your fic in the back of my head, about Dean and the nice lady with the herbs, and so HELLO IT IS SO COOL THAT YOU'RE HERE.
2. Teary drug-loving comical-death-wish super-burnt Dean and his bronzed bronzed Sammeh with his million washcloths and his secret creamy weapon and his Gatorade and his gentleness. *melts*
Re: The Burniest Person I Know, 2/2werewolfsfanJuly 4 2012, 00:23:23 UTC
I have vitiligo so no sun for me. But of course, at least once every summer, I "forget." So, I'm just past the blisters..... How mean of me is it that I enjoyed this sooooooooo much?! And how much do I like having something in common with Dean?
"Ow," she says, and flinches.
Sam sends him back to the car to wait, and emerges later with a big bag of shit. Dean nods and dozes on the way to the motel.
Sadly, the blessed Demerol fades into the ether an hour later. Dean wipes tears from his eyes and says, "I will pay you a million dollars, Sam. A million. If you will shoot me now."
Sam fiddles with a little jar from his bag. "How you gonna pay me when you're dead?"
"I swear, I swear to you I will find a way. Been dead before, it ain't that hard. Come on, just do it."
"Hang on."
For a second he thinks maybe Sam actually will. And then he has to try not to cry when Sam comes back with a wet washcloth instead.
"To pull the heat out. Lean forward."
The weird thing is, it helps a little. Not for long, but for a few seconds it's marginally better. He sits there -- because his days of lying down are over for the moment -- and lets Sam drape him in about twelve wet washcloths, then replace them with new wet cloths. Over and over again, until Dean thinks maybe he's going to live and possibly not have to change his forwarding address to the nearest burn ward.
Something aromatic penetrates his stupor. "Whuh."
"Jess got a burn a couple of times," Sam says, scooping out a couple fingers-ful of white cream. "She said this helps."
"S'for your face. Like, makeup."
"Hey, whatever helps."
The cream stinks, but it feels even better than the washcloths. Lasts longer.
He sighs and drinks a little nasty-ass Gatorade.
"You're a mess," Sam says, the soft, gently amused voice he uses when Dean's hurt, or sick. "You are the burniest person I have ever met, and you know better, man. What were you thinking?"
Wasn't, Dean thinks, but just makes a sound in his throat.
"Yeah, I know you weren't," Sam murmurs. "Drink your Gatorade."
Later Dean takes one of the excellent ER doctor's most fantastic prescription painkillers, but a tiny muddle-headed part of his brain thinks that all the remedies in the world won't beat the sound of Sam's voice, familiar and teasing and filled with love.
THE SCHMOOPY END.
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I love the description of poor sun poisoned Dean, with his hands like blistered hams. And drugs and wet washcloths and SAM make it all better.
This was schmooptastic! Thank you!
P.S. Noxema is the BOMB for sunburns. Jess was a smart girl!
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Glad you enjoyed!! :-D
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1. The plant prompt was totally made with your fic in the back of my head, about Dean and the nice lady with the herbs, and so HELLO IT IS SO COOL THAT YOU'RE HERE.
2. Teary drug-loving comical-death-wish super-burnt Dean and his bronzed bronzed Sammeh with his million washcloths and his secret creamy weapon and his Gatorade and his gentleness. *melts*
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Too much prompty goodness!
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