"What The Doctor Ordered" (Final Sequel to "Comfort Food") Part 2 Gen, PG
The following day, Dean was practically bouncing the walls. When Sam finally arrived Dean barked, “What took you so long?! I was supposed to leave a half hour ago.”
“I was downstairs finishing the paperwork to get your ass out of here.” Sam tossed some clothes onto Dean’s bed.
“Should have filed them two days ago.” Dean scooted to the side of the bed and picked up the jeans.
Sam leaned against the wall opposite the bed, hands in his jacket pockets. “You know I couldn’t have done that.”
“I’m not a walking heart-attack Sam,” Dean grunted as he tugged his pants up, under the hospital gown, “The doctor even said so.”
“She said there was a possibility of a heart attack the night we brought you in.”
“Yeah well according to her, tests show I’m actually healthy.” Dean said smugly, though neglecting to add on the extra ‘despite your weight’ part. He felt it was a valid argument anyway.
“Oh really.” Sam said flatly, facial expression screaming “quit bullshitting me.”
“You don’t believe me? Ask her yourself.” Dean muttered before pulled the gown off and picking up this t-shirt, abandoning his self-conscious modesty in the haste of getting dressed and leaving as soon as possible. “This whole stay was pointless.”
“It made me feel better.” Sam said quietly. Dean glanced over and saw his brother gazing at floor, and suddenly Dean realized how careworn he looked.
“Yeah well… you worry too much. It’s gonna take a lot more to break me, especially with all this in the way.” Dean patted his stomach and grinned, trying to lighten the mood. Sam just kept his eyes fixed on the floor and Dean’s smile fell. “Sammy…”
A knock on the open door caught both of their attention, as Dr. Bryant peeked in. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, we’re just about ready to leave.” Sam said. Dean on the other hand didn’t answer, as he suddenly was turning pink. Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, he pulled his shirt up from his lap to his chest, trying his best to hide behind it.
“Oh Good, I heard from the staff everything was all set, but I was just double checking. Would you like a nurse to escort you?”
“Nah, we’ll manage.” Sam answered.
Dean with his head ducked, was carefully slipping his hands through the sleeves so he could pull it on as quickly as possible without revealing any more than he had to.
“You’re quiet today.” She pointed out.
Dean froze. “Guess I’m just still mad at you.”
“For keeping you prisoner here, eh?” She smirked. “So mad you won’t even say goodbye?”
“Well… Maybe I’ll make an exception.” Dean took the moment to yank his shirt on in one rapid movement. Success!
Then Dean worried if she had seen the rolls of his stomach. She can probably see them anyway through this damn shirt. Dean looked down at himself and wilted when he saw what seemed to him were obvious layers of flab. Grey. Light grey, of all the color t-shirts he owned, Sam brought him the least-flattering one of them all. And it was one of his smaller ones too because it was clinging to his sides. Dean’s eyes searched for an over-shirt to hide his unsightly body. There was none.
“I guess it doesn’t matter anyway since, I’ll probably see you back here in a few weeks.”
Dean’s looked to Sam, who didn’t seem surprised by this comment. He looked between him and Dr. Bryant, offended. “Excuse m-“
“No, we know.” Sam interrupted. “We’ll be back in two weeks. Promise.”
She nodded. “Sounds good. Alright then, ” she tapped the edge of her clipboard on the bedside table, “look out for yourself. Get plenty of rest and I’ll see you soon.” She smiled at Dean and walked out. Dean nodded while watching her leave before rounding on Sam.
“What the hell is going on?”
“It’s nothing, she just wants you to come back in a couple of weeks to check you over and make sure you’re still ok.” Sam explained.
“But you just said we’d be back to make her leave, right?” Sam didn’t answer, but his expression said it all. “Goddamn it, we’re not staying here for two weeks!”
“Dean, calm down..”
Dean stood up angrily. “Don’t tell me what to do. I have stayed here in this hell for two days for you. I’ve put up with all the tests and the fucking nurses and the doctors poking and prodding and telling me I’m a useless fat fuck. All I hear is nutritionist this and overweight that and I’m sick of it. I. Want. out.”
“I know but-“
Dean jabbed Sam hard in the chest with his finger. “No. You. Don’t. You don’t know anything. I’m done. I want to do my job and pretend this whole thing never happened.” Dean pushed past Sam towards the door.
“Dean I can’t stop you.” Sam said softly. “But… I’ve got a new plan. And I think you might want to hear it first before we go repeating what wasn’t working for you in the first place.”
Dean had paused because he spotted the hoodie Sam brought for him, but left on the table by the door. It was his favorite to wear when he was sick, and it was one of the few things that still fit him, even after he ballooned up this past year. Dean picked it up off the table and ran his finger over a small, familiar hole in the hem.
“I think you need a break. We both do. I know you want to hunt, but if we go back to doing what we were doing before, you’re going to wind up back here anyway.”
“I’m not going to die Sam.” Dean protested.
“But you’re hurting yourself. We can’t keep up work while trying to fix this at the same time. You’re going to burn out.” Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam hastily continued. “I’m not saying you’re weak, or you can’t handle it. I’m saying your body can’t. Can’t you see this was a sign to slow down?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “If I worried about every little ache and pain, I’d never get anything done.”
“This wasn’t just a bump or bruise, this was serious. And I don’t want it happening again…. I don’t want to see you go through that again Dean… don’t make me.”
Dean felt Sam’s desperate, pleading puppy eyes burning into the side of his face. He hung his head and let out a long, low, defeated sigh.
~~~~~
“So let me get this straight. Instead of you know, doing what rational people do to lose weight like, oh, I don’t know, exercise and diet, you want me to sit on my ass and stuff my face?” Dean watched Sam unpack the supplies they picked up on the way over, before settling in the small cabin Sam had already taken the liberty of renting out for the month.
“You hated doing that stuff anyway Dean.”
“So what, it still makes a lot more sense than this. See what happens when I leave you alone too long? You start thinking.” Dean mockingly shuddered at the idea while joining Sam in the kitchen and picking up a box of cheez-its. He looked at it skeptically. “Don’t you think encouraging me is just gonna make things worse?”
“Give me that.” Sam said absentmindedly holding a hand out to Dean, while studying the semi-empty shelves of the cabinets lining the wall.
Dean handed the box over and leaned on the counter top. “Stop ignoring me.”
Sam huffed impatiently. “I’m not, I’m just busy. Go sit down or something.”
“I’ve been lying down for the last 48 hours!” Dean complained.
“And the doctor told us you need lots of rest, so sit.”
Dean grumbled, but returned to the couch. After they left the hospital they had visited the nearby shopping center for supplies. Dean didn’t realize it when he was hospitalized, but Sam had apparently driven as far from the grave site as possible, and currently they were in a little town in Pennsylvania. There wasn’t much around except the falls, the stores, and the hospital. Everything else was just houses and woodland.
And now Dean was stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere for two weeks, staring at the wall, ‘recovering’. Joy.
A beer bottle appeared in front of his face, and Dean cautiously accepted it. Sam flopped down into the armchair opposite of him, looking simultaneously exhausted and satisfied as he opened his own bottle.
“I figured out what your problem is,” Sam said so casually Dean was taken aback.
“I have an annoying brother who thinks he knows everything?”
Sam ignored Dean’s remark. “It’s not your eating that’s the problem. It’s you.”
“…I kind of got that.”
Sam put his beer down on the dusty coffee table and waved his hands around, “I mean it’s all in your head. You’re unhappy with the way you look.”
“Oh God Sam, shut up…”
“Hear me out. You’re uncomfortable. It’s obvious.” Dean rolled his eyes, but all the same shifted nervously and subconsciously crossed his arms. “And you want a quick fix, so you try your hardest, but usually it’s not enough. When you fail, you get disappointed. You feel bad so you eat. When you eat though, things get worse, so you repeat it all again. The more you gain, the worse you feel. The worse you feel, the more you eat.”
“Well thanks Dr. Drew for your input.” Dean glowered at Sam, even though he knew every words he had said was true.
Sam pressed on. “That’s when it hit me. You’re eating because you’re upset. You know what that means?”
“What?” Dean muttered darkly.
“We found the trigger!” Sam exclaimed like this was the most wonderful news in the world. Dean gave him a ‘you’re crazy’ look, but Sam continued. “It’s been right in front of us all along. It’s not your habits, it’s the way you think. That’s what we have to change.”
“Oh that sounds easy.” Dean said sarcastically.
“All we’d have to do is two things. For one, abandon what we were doing before. If you want to eat, eat. If you want to sit around, or if you want to go out, whatever, do what you did before you gained the weight, it didn’t seem to matter then.”
Dean considered this. It was true that before he wasn’t exactly a health freak, and it didn’t matter all that much. “What’s the second thing?”
“You have to accept the way you are.”
For some reason, this made Dean feel uneasy. “You want me to just give up?”
“No, I want you to stop trying so hard to change. Listen, you’re gaining weight because you’re upset over the way you look. But if you don’t care how you look…”
“…I won’t eat.” Dean finished.
“Exactly.” Sam said, sitting back in the worn chair.
Dean thought about the idea for a moment. How could he just accept what he was now? He was a blimp compared to what he used to be. He hated everything about himself. How could Sam expect him to just let those feelings slide?
“Well what do you think?”
“….I think you studied too much psychology at Stanford.”
Sam laughed. “Are you going to give it a try, or not?”
Dean studied the cold beer bottle in his hand. It was true, he did despise himself. He felt worthless, and part of that was true. How could he hunt properly like this? He went on a simple salt and burn and landed in the hospital. Who was he if he couldn’t be a hunter? And how was anyone going to take him seriously when he looked like this? When he could barely do anything without getting winded? Dean wanted to not give a damn about his looks, because he felt like a girl enough over it, but a stubborn part of him just couldn’t let the negative feelings go. It felt like he was giving up, and he wasn’t ready.
Still, despite his doubts, Dean cracked the beer open and took a long swig while Sam watched with an approving smile.
“I’m cooking dinner. How about some burgers?”
“Sam you can’t even cook ramen without burning it.”
Sam kicked Dean’s foot, grinning. “Fuck you. I was like 6 when that happened.”
Dean settled back against the couch. “Fine, knock yourself out. Don’t burn down the house though. We just paid for it.”
Sam jumped up and headed towards the kitchen saying something about using a grill they had out back. Dean wasn’t really listening, as his growling stomach and irrational worries made it hard to hear.
~~~~~
The following morning Dean was nibbling on the bacon from his plate. Slow. Deliberate. He couldn’t finish it. His stomach growled furiously, and Dean was just glad Sam wasn’t in the room to hear it.
He wanted to eat so badly. A week ago he would have killed to be in the position he was now, but suddenly he was overcome with bizarre worries he couldn’t suppress, not even with food.
Sam returned and poured himself another cup of coffee before joining Dean at the small table. He noticed his still full plate of bacon, sausage, homefries and pancakes.
“Are you seriously telling me after two days of hospital food, you’re not hungry?”
Dean returned to taking small bites from the bacon he had been working on for the last five minutes. “Maybe my stomach shrank.”
Sam snorted and Dean couldn’t even muster up a tired glare.
Dean looked like he was fighting himself. He sighed and put down the bacon and picked up his coffee, taking a drink without ever taking his eyes off the plate, like he was staring down an enemy.
“What’s wrong?”
“What if it backfires?” Dean finally said. “What if… I gain even more?”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?” Dean asked, unsure.
“Because this is going to work, trust me.” Sam sounded confident, but Dean was hesitant. In the back of his mind, he saw himself returning to senseless gorging, stuffing himself with everything in sight. He saw himself returning to old habits, sneaking food and binging behind Sam’s back. Worst of all he saw himself swelling up to 300 lbs. He wasn’t too far off, and the idea terrified him.
Sam rested his head on the palm of one hand and watched Dean patiently. “Besides, if you gain anymore, I don’t even care.”
“I do care!” Dean replied, affronted.
“You’re not supposed to though.” Sam reminded him.
“Well I do, and I’m sorry, but I’m not ok with being a fatass.”
“Why not?” Sam challenged. “Because of what other people think? Fuck them. And is it because of what I think? Let me be clear. I don’t give a fuck.” Sam emphasized every word. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy. You don’t think you can hunt? Fine, we can take a vacation. So what else is there Dean, huh? When all of that doesn’t matter, does it really matter to you?”
Dean leaned on the table and ran this thumb over the lip of his coffee mug nervously.
“Look at me.” Sam ordered. Dean reluctantly rolled his eyes in Sam’s direction. “You’re still Dean Winchester. You’re still my big brother. You’re not going to let something this stupid control you, right?” Dean nodded, but Sam shook his head. “What? Say it.”
“I won’t… let it control me.” Dean murmured.
Sam leaned in. “Sorry, what?”
“I won’t let it control me, ok, now shut up.” Dean snapped.
“I’ll shut up right after you eat breakfast.”
Dean, to make a point, stuffed a forkful of crisp homefries into this mouth. Sam grinned.
“Was that so hard?”
“Oh fuck off already,” Dean mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes drowned in syrup and butter, “We need a off-switch on your therapist mode. You get off from it, I know. It’s starting to creep me out.”
Sam got up and playfully smacked Dean on the back of his head. “Shut up and eat your food.”
~~~~~
A few days in, Dean was settling into the idea of accepting things the way they were. He pushed the negative thoughts from his mind. Every time he looked in the mirror he just told himself, it’s still him in there, he’s just gotten bigger. No big deal. He didn’t get upset over his clothes sizes or worry about slimming down because for the first time in a long time, he was comfortable.
As much as Dean didn’t want to admit it, the vacation idea was a good one. He missed the distraction of hunting, but at the same time Dean had clung to it and food for so long to drown his worries, that it actually was just adding stress. At the cottage, Dean was, while slightly bored, at least able to relax and not focus on his size.
`Of course, with Dean coming to terms with himself, his appetite grew once more. Once and a while he would get anxious over whether he was indulging too much, and would pluck nervously at his waistline, but Sam would just roll his eyes and Dean would return to munching on whatever was in front of him.
Dean snacked during the day, grazing on the boxes and bags Sam had bought, while watching what he could pick up on the TV, or browsing through a magazine. Dean had to confess, Sam’s culinary skills had improved since he had last been in charge of cooking. At meals he’d eat heartily and usually would go for seconds. In the end he’d feel comfortably full, and would rest at ease for the first time in months.
However with the return of his old habits, also came the rapid dwindling of supplies. In a matter of days the pantry and fridge were almost bare.
“We need to hit up the grocery store soon. I don’t think I want to know what you’d create with what’s left in here.” Dean said.
“Yeah, I’m thinking a meal made of condiments, beer, and a bag of doritos wouldn’t go over very good.”
“There’s doritos left?”
“I think so.”
Dean checked, leaning over the counter and belly spilling over the top, until he found his prize and eased down at the table next to Sam, digging in. “I’ll come with you. I’m going stir crazy.”
“I noticed that when I caught you cleaning yesterday.” Sam said without looking up from the newspaper.
“I wasn’t cleaning, I was sweeping up something I spilled.” Dean said defensively.
“That happened to be spilled over every inch of the room I guess since you moved the couch and rug.”
“Excuse me for making the place livable.”
Sam smiled. “Aw, you’re so cute when you’re domestic,” he cooed.
“Fuck you, I’m not some house wife Sam.”
“You are too. Every time we settle some place for more than a night you start cleaning and fixing everything. You’ve been doing it since we were kids.” Sam recalled
“I do not.” Dean argued, all the while Sam looked at Dean almost fondly. Dean made a face. “Cut that out.” Sam laughed and got up.
“Alright. Mind as well get you out of the house before you start polishing or something.”
“Sam!” Dean threatened. Sam barked a laugh and went outside.
~~~~~
Dean swiftly made his way to the back of the store to pick up the beer Sam sent him to find. He wanted to get this over with a go back to the cottage.
Originally he wanted to get out for some fresh air but that was before he noticed everyone here was a freaking triathlete or, something, because compared to him, everyone just seemed so slim and tiny. He wasn’t huge. He knew that. But next to average-sized everyone else, he stood out. No one was really looking or laughing at him, as far as he could tell since he wasn’t exactly holding his head up, but just being thrown in the middle of the normal crowd, felt awkward.
So he dodged around, quickly gathering what they needed so they can go home. He squeezed past two shopping carts, weaved past a display case, and headed towards the fridge, making as little eye contact as possible.
Can’t wait to go home and-
Dean collided right into someone. The hit didn’t have an effect on him, but the woman toppled backwards. Dean rolled up on his toes and held his arms out to keep from falling over her, then took a step back, in shock.
The woman looked up, they stared at one another for a moment, then she burst out laughing. “We meet again.”
Dean blushed. “Hey Doc….” He immediately held out a hand to help her to her feet.
She dusted herself off. Dean noticed her hair was down, and she had makeup on and a skirt. The difference between her uniform and now was striking. “Well it’s no wonder you ended up in the hospital, look at yourself rushing around. What did I tell you about taking it easy? You nearly mowed me over.”
Dean shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, about that.”
Nora waved it off. “Forget it. So how you feeling?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Well I’m surprised to see you around here, I thought you might have left. Your brother mentioned something about you two being on a work-related road trip.”
“We decided to stick around, catch some R&R.”
“Good, because rest and relax is basically all you can do around here,” she joked.
“I have to admit, I’ve seen cornfields in the middle of Nebraska that were more exciting.”
She laughed. “Hey, at least you don’t have to live here. The only excitement I get is what goes on in the hospital, and that’s not even saying much. I could use some entertainment once in a while…” she trailed off.
Dean cleared if throat nervously, unsure how to respond. “Well if it makes you feel any better, you’re probably the most interesting thing I’ve seen while I’ve been here.”
Nora’s eyes widened. “Wow, this place is more dull than I thought!”
“Well, no, it’s just I’ve only really seen you and Sam… and Sam…” Dean shuddered.
Nora laughed. “Speak of the devil.”
Suddenly Dean was bumped from behind by something. He jumped and turned around to see Sam who stood grinning with the cart he just playfully rammed into his brother.
“I don’t know, he seems amusing enough,” Nora commented.
“What about me?” Sam asked.
Dean frowned. “Don’t you have shopping to do?”
“I’m done, I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sorry, I’ve been holding him up,” Explained Nora, “I’ll get moving along. Take care, Dean.” She winked at him before she walked off.
Dean watched her leave, a faint smile on his still slightly-pink face. It took him a moment to realize Sam was staring at him.
“What?”
Sam’s smirk just grew, a childish glint in his eye.
“Oh, shut up Sam.”
Sam kept the grin on his face. “You like her.”
“Dude, she’s my doctor.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What are you, five?”
Sam kept staring and finally Dean rolled his eyes and huffed, walking away. He heard Sam call after him, “You know I’m right.”
Doesn’t matter, because I am definitely not telling you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part 3: http://punkysaidso.livejournal.com/2410.html