Obvious Yet Overlooked -- coda to 5x12 Swap Meat
Fanfic: Obvious Yet Overlooked - coda to 5x12 Swap Meat
Author: sandymg
Summary: It should be obvious, but only if you look
Spoilers: coda for 5x12 Swap Meat
Wordcount: 1,309 One-shot
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke - who'd best treat them well
A/N 1: Companion to borgmama1of5's 5x12 coda, Overlooking the Obvious. Thanks for letting me play with your toys!
A/N 2: No beta … so all those missing commas are all creative license ;)
Obvious Yet Overlooked
Sam wanted to wonder what Dean had been going on about with the sudden interest in green lawns and picket fences and one point five children. Trouble was, it felt like too much trouble to wonder about it. Next, maybe Dean would start waxing poetically about mowing a lawn. He glanced at Dean behind the wheel. He thought about Gary’s little incident with the Impala, wondered briefly how his body was still in as good shape it was in considering. Nobody messed with baby. Except, he was sore in his backside in a way that was just this side of disturbing. He made a mental note to check it out later if he remembered. He yawned. Probably he wouldn’t remember.
At first, driving out of that suburban hellhole, he’d been too mad to do anything but bitch. How could Dean not have realized there was a 17-year-old geek stuck in his body? How could he have ignored the million messages Sam’d left? Just -- the fuck - how? But hours of hearing Dean hem and haw and actually say he thought Sam was suddenly ‘gonna have a good time, enjoy life’ took the piss out of him. What was the point? It was what it was and the truth was, deep down, it wasn’t even surprising. When that hit deep, he shut up.
They pulled into the Happy Times Motel and Dean ordered him to get them a room. Bossy as ever. Dean dumped his bag on a bed and immediately disappeared into the bathroom to shower. What if Sam wanted to shower? After all, he’d just gotten his body back and god knows what that kid was doing with it? The thoughts continued to cause an inadvertent queasiness. It was like the time with Meg, kind of, only then, he’d still been there, in his body, and … Okay, thinking about that was definitely not going to do anything to make his mood any better. Dean’d figured it out mighty quick back then. More thoughts that went nowhere and served no purpose and were better off pushed back. Dean said to do that after all, after the mental hospital, to push it all back.
The bathroom door opened finally and Dean came out. Sam grabbed some clean boxers from his duffel and went to wash Gary out of himself. Really, could his life get any weirder? He pondered what Doctor Fuller would have thought if they’d thrown this into the mix when trying to get themselves committed. He laughed and thought that Dean would hear him but didn’t care because even if he did it’s not like Dean would bother caring what was funny.
Stripping down in front of the small mirror Sam surveyed himself best he could. Everything seemed normal enough. Then he turned around and looked over his shoulder. What the fuck? Two steps put him back in front of his brother.
“Dean! I have bruises all over my buttocks! What the hell happened?”
Dean shrugged, blamed the poltergeist.
Sam’s frustration rose. “Yeah, well, that explains why my shoulders are sore. But I’ve got, like, twenty or thirty black and blue marks on my ass, for chrissake! All separate, like I got hit by something a bunch of times.”
“Yeah, well, call your friend Gary and ask him what he did with your body while he was playing with it. I sure don’t … know.”
Sam wanted to bitch more, because it still wasn’t making sense to him, and the bruises on his ass - some looked like … handprints. Dean moaned. And Sam forgot about his butt. Looked at Dean again. He was facing away from Sam, shoulders shaking, breath coming out in tiny spurts. Pain. It made a sound all its own and while nobody hid it better than Dean there were moments when it took over and burst out in a …
“Fuck, Sam!”
“You’re hurt. From the way you’re laying I’m guessing ribs. The poltergeist?”
There was a pause. Sam wasn’t sure Dean would answer. “Demon bitch. She did a number on me before we got her exorcised.”
The demon. The bounty that Lucifer put on Dean’s head. Sam felt the burns from the ropes even though they weren’t on this body, weren’t on his body. The moron boy who had his heart fucking ripped out in front of him. Probably had never even ever gotten laid. Barely started shaving. Children playing with books that they couldn’t begin to understand, calling forces blacker than … where Dean’d been. Same sons of bitches that were coming back for his brother.
He sat Dean up and pulled the adhesive tape from their first aid kit. Slowly he placed a strip of tape directly over Dean’s injured rib and ran it from his sternum methodically around his brother’s back to end at his spine. He could hear his father’s instructions never to wrap it completely around the body as it could stop breathing.
How many times had he done this? How wrong was it that it was too many to count? His brother had fractured ribs and he hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t even seen him. The thought lashed him like whatever the hell had beaten his ass and he stopped a moment causing Dean to tilt his head. Before Dean could question him he resumed his task, systematically, like he’d done way too many times before.
The demons would keep coming. Lucifer would never stop. A bounty. Hell’s most wanted. At one time Dean’d been on the FBI’s most wanted list. Was this considered moving up? Sam fought an almost hysterical laugh, covered it with a sputtered cough. He worked the last of the adhesive against Dean’s back. There. Was done. Should help. Not against anything important, but it would let Dean sleep. And Dean had planned to take care of this by himself.
“You know, Dean, you just had to ask me for help.”
“Wouldn’ta had to ask, once, Sammy.”
No. He wouldn’t have. Sam let out a breath he hardly realized he’d been holding. He was so tired.
“Yeah, and once you would have known that wasn’t me in two minutes, max.”
Dean didn’t say anything, not that Sam’d expected him to. It was what it was and it sucked and the demons would keep coming and it was never ever going to stop. He helped Dean into his bed, arranged the covers carefully over him so as to disturb his injuries the least.
Finally, Sam settled into his own bed.
“Thanks, Sammy.”
Twice. Dean’d called him ‘Sammy’ twice. Maybe Dean expected Sam to say something. He looked over at the other bed. Dean’s eyes were closed but Sam knew he was awake.
“We’ll fix it, Dean. Us. I promise. Work with me?”
Dean responded quick. “Yeah, Sammy. We will. G’night.”
Sam lay back, stared at the ceiling until he heard a soft snore. He didn’t know if he believed there was anything left to fix any more than Dean did. He’d spoken into the silence because if he hadn’t that left only the emptiness of what was. He heard a rustle and a low groan. In the dim light Sam made out Dean trying to lift the blanket back up from where it had fallen off his shoulder.
Sam rose. Lifted the blanket back and settled it over Dean allowing his finger to brush his brother’s shoulder as he smoothed it down. Dean never opened his eyes, was probably still asleep, still a little cold, still in pain.
But not alone.
fin
A/N: For Dean's POV go to borgmama1of5's 5x12 coda, Overlooking the Obvious.
Author: sandymg
Summary: It should be obvious, but only if you look
Spoilers: coda for 5x12 Swap Meat
Wordcount: 1,309 One-shot
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke - who'd best treat them well
A/N 1: Companion to borgmama1of5's 5x12 coda, Overlooking the Obvious. Thanks for letting me play with your toys!
A/N 2: No beta … so all those missing commas are all creative license ;)
Obvious Yet Overlooked
Sam wanted to wonder what Dean had been going on about with the sudden interest in green lawns and picket fences and one point five children. Trouble was, it felt like too much trouble to wonder about it. Next, maybe Dean would start waxing poetically about mowing a lawn. He glanced at Dean behind the wheel. He thought about Gary’s little incident with the Impala, wondered briefly how his body was still in as good shape it was in considering. Nobody messed with baby. Except, he was sore in his backside in a way that was just this side of disturbing. He made a mental note to check it out later if he remembered. He yawned. Probably he wouldn’t remember.
At first, driving out of that suburban hellhole, he’d been too mad to do anything but bitch. How could Dean not have realized there was a 17-year-old geek stuck in his body? How could he have ignored the million messages Sam’d left? Just -- the fuck - how? But hours of hearing Dean hem and haw and actually say he thought Sam was suddenly ‘gonna have a good time, enjoy life’ took the piss out of him. What was the point? It was what it was and the truth was, deep down, it wasn’t even surprising. When that hit deep, he shut up.
They pulled into the Happy Times Motel and Dean ordered him to get them a room. Bossy as ever. Dean dumped his bag on a bed and immediately disappeared into the bathroom to shower. What if Sam wanted to shower? After all, he’d just gotten his body back and god knows what that kid was doing with it? The thoughts continued to cause an inadvertent queasiness. It was like the time with Meg, kind of, only then, he’d still been there, in his body, and … Okay, thinking about that was definitely not going to do anything to make his mood any better. Dean’d figured it out mighty quick back then. More thoughts that went nowhere and served no purpose and were better off pushed back. Dean said to do that after all, after the mental hospital, to push it all back.
The bathroom door opened finally and Dean came out. Sam grabbed some clean boxers from his duffel and went to wash Gary out of himself. Really, could his life get any weirder? He pondered what Doctor Fuller would have thought if they’d thrown this into the mix when trying to get themselves committed. He laughed and thought that Dean would hear him but didn’t care because even if he did it’s not like Dean would bother caring what was funny.
Stripping down in front of the small mirror Sam surveyed himself best he could. Everything seemed normal enough. Then he turned around and looked over his shoulder. What the fuck? Two steps put him back in front of his brother.
“Dean! I have bruises all over my buttocks! What the hell happened?”
Dean shrugged, blamed the poltergeist.
Sam’s frustration rose. “Yeah, well, that explains why my shoulders are sore. But I’ve got, like, twenty or thirty black and blue marks on my ass, for chrissake! All separate, like I got hit by something a bunch of times.”
“Yeah, well, call your friend Gary and ask him what he did with your body while he was playing with it. I sure don’t … know.”
Sam wanted to bitch more, because it still wasn’t making sense to him, and the bruises on his ass - some looked like … handprints. Dean moaned. And Sam forgot about his butt. Looked at Dean again. He was facing away from Sam, shoulders shaking, breath coming out in tiny spurts. Pain. It made a sound all its own and while nobody hid it better than Dean there were moments when it took over and burst out in a …
“Fuck, Sam!”
“You’re hurt. From the way you’re laying I’m guessing ribs. The poltergeist?”
There was a pause. Sam wasn’t sure Dean would answer. “Demon bitch. She did a number on me before we got her exorcised.”
The demon. The bounty that Lucifer put on Dean’s head. Sam felt the burns from the ropes even though they weren’t on this body, weren’t on his body. The moron boy who had his heart fucking ripped out in front of him. Probably had never even ever gotten laid. Barely started shaving. Children playing with books that they couldn’t begin to understand, calling forces blacker than … where Dean’d been. Same sons of bitches that were coming back for his brother.
He sat Dean up and pulled the adhesive tape from their first aid kit. Slowly he placed a strip of tape directly over Dean’s injured rib and ran it from his sternum methodically around his brother’s back to end at his spine. He could hear his father’s instructions never to wrap it completely around the body as it could stop breathing.
How many times had he done this? How wrong was it that it was too many to count? His brother had fractured ribs and he hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t even seen him. The thought lashed him like whatever the hell had beaten his ass and he stopped a moment causing Dean to tilt his head. Before Dean could question him he resumed his task, systematically, like he’d done way too many times before.
The demons would keep coming. Lucifer would never stop. A bounty. Hell’s most wanted. At one time Dean’d been on the FBI’s most wanted list. Was this considered moving up? Sam fought an almost hysterical laugh, covered it with a sputtered cough. He worked the last of the adhesive against Dean’s back. There. Was done. Should help. Not against anything important, but it would let Dean sleep. And Dean had planned to take care of this by himself.
“You know, Dean, you just had to ask me for help.”
“Wouldn’ta had to ask, once, Sammy.”
No. He wouldn’t have. Sam let out a breath he hardly realized he’d been holding. He was so tired.
“Yeah, and once you would have known that wasn’t me in two minutes, max.”
Dean didn’t say anything, not that Sam’d expected him to. It was what it was and it sucked and the demons would keep coming and it was never ever going to stop. He helped Dean into his bed, arranged the covers carefully over him so as to disturb his injuries the least.
Finally, Sam settled into his own bed.
“Thanks, Sammy.”
Twice. Dean’d called him ‘Sammy’ twice. Maybe Dean expected Sam to say something. He looked over at the other bed. Dean’s eyes were closed but Sam knew he was awake.
“We’ll fix it, Dean. Us. I promise. Work with me?”
Dean responded quick. “Yeah, Sammy. We will. G’night.”
Sam lay back, stared at the ceiling until he heard a soft snore. He didn’t know if he believed there was anything left to fix any more than Dean did. He’d spoken into the silence because if he hadn’t that left only the emptiness of what was. He heard a rustle and a low groan. In the dim light Sam made out Dean trying to lift the blanket back up from where it had fallen off his shoulder.
Sam rose. Lifted the blanket back and settled it over Dean allowing his finger to brush his brother’s shoulder as he smoothed it down. Dean never opened his eyes, was probably still asleep, still a little cold, still in pain.
But not alone.
fin
A/N: For Dean's POV go to borgmama1of5's 5x12 coda, Overlooking the Obvious.