Fic: Bandages and Co-operation (Sam/Dean)
This one’s for whitereflection who really is an awesome friend :D I really hope you enjoy this! Happy Christmas and all the best for the New Year!
Title: Bandages and Co-operation
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: For whitereflection , who asked for ‘Dean/Sam patching themselves up and recovering after a hunt, it's Christmas Eve/Christmas Day and it's snowing really hard outside.’
Beta: eph_inspiration
Sam glanced sideways at Dean as he pulled up outside of the motel. His brother was resting his head against the window, his eyes closed, tapping his fingers against his leg. Outside the car, snow was falling - just like it had been all week - and it didn’t look like it was going to stop. He grimaced; it wasn’t exactly going to be fun helping an injured Dean into the motel room, especially when he wasn’t doing too well himself.
Dean opened one eye, “We moving any time soon?”
“Yeah, we’re going to get wet, though.”
He groaned, lifted his head up, “I hate Christmas.”
Sam winced at the smear of blood that was left behind on the window, “No, you don’t. You hate being hurt at Christmas, there’s a difference. Come on.”
“Hey, hang on a minute. You’re hurt, too.”
“Only a little bit, we can worry about that later. Come on.” He braced himself for the cold, and then pushed the door open, hurrying to get out before too much snow got into the car. Dean was pissed off enough already without having ruined upholstery to complain about.
Usually, he would have jogged around to the other side of the Impala but, instead, he settled for walking as fast as he could, ignoring the jolt of pain in his knee. He went carefully; the last thing they needed was for him to slip on the icy ground. He pulled Dean’s door open and reached in to help him climb out. Dean swore as the snow began to hit his cheeks, muttered once again that he hated Christmas. Sam shook his head and waited for Dean to sling an arm over his shoulder before taking off towards the motel room. They were both limping and Sam wondered, not for the first time, why he’d listened to Dean when he’d suggested a quick hunt on Christmas Eve.
They burst through the door, a flurry of snow following behind them as Sam helped Dean to lower himself down on the bed. Once Dean was settled, Sam headed back to the door and slammed it shut before turning back around to see to his brother. He smiled at the sight that greeted him.
Dean, obviously intending to be helpful, had started to take his top off and had got stuck, his shirt tangled over his head. Sam moved forwards as Dean began to struggle, ran his hands up his brother’s sides and laughed at the sound that he made.
“Here, let me help.” He tugged the top over Dean’s head, frowned when he caught sight of the cut on his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot - full of stupid ideas like going hunting on Christmas Eve when there’s a blizzard out. I’m never going to listen to you again.” He pressed a kiss to Dean’s collarbone.
Dean shrugged, “You never do anyway.” He caught hold of Sam’s wrist and pushed his shirt sleeve up, cussed when he caught sight of the ring of bruising, “You hurt anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Sammy,” He brushed his thumb across the inside of Sam’s wrist.
“I’ve hurt my knee. And I’m going to have a few bruises, but that’s all.”
“We should get a compress-”
He pushed Dean back onto the bed, “After we’ve seen to you. You had a pretty bad knock on the head back there.” He ran his hand over the back of Dean’s head, biting his lip when it came away sticky with blood. “You could be concussed.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then, Doctor,” he began to examine the cut on Dean’s shoulder, “What day is it?”
Dean scowled, “Christmas Eve. Do I need stitches?”
“Hmm. I don’t think so, no. It looks worse than it is.” He grabbed the first aid kit, “The Rain Song- who sings it?”
“Led Zeppelin.” He sucked in a breath as Sam doused the cut in alcohol.
“Okay, so you’re not concussed. How’s your ankle doing?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sprained - it’ll be okay.”
Sam nodded and taped a piece of gauze over Dean’s wound, then pressed a kiss to his forehead before stepping back.
“Okay, now let me look at your knee.”
Sam sighed, “It’s fine.”
“No,” he shook his head, “No way are you being all mother hen on me and then not letting me look after you. Sit.”
He sat.
---
“You done?”
Dean nodded, settling back on the bed, “I still don’t know how you managed to fall over. I mean, I fell because the son of a bitch pushed me. You-”
“Fell because I’m clumsy. You said, Dean.” He lay back, pressed up against Dean’s side, and then sat straight back up again. “Dean, you’re freezing.”
“So are you. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s December.” Shaking his head, he reached down and pulled the covers up around them, slinging an arm over Sam’s stomach. “Do you reckon the snow will let off soon?”
He shrugged, “Probably not. It doesn’t matter though, because we’re not going out again any time soon.”
Dean huffed, drummed his fingers against Sam’s side, “I want to check on the Impala. I slammed into her pretty hard.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” He reached down, covered Dean’s hand with his own to stop him from tapping. “It’s you that needs patching up.”
“I’m done. And I’ll stay in her e tonight-”
“I’m not even giving you a choice on that.”
“I’m staying in here tonight because it’s cold and I’m not going out into the snow again. But I’m checking on her tomorrow.”
“But-”
“If you argue, you’re not getting your present.”
He thought about if for a moment, “You got me a present?”
Dean turned so that he was lying on his side facing away from Sam. “Maybe.”
“You did,” he grinned, and slung his arm over Dean’s waist, “What did you get me?”
“No way. That never worked when you were a kid and it’s not working now. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“But,” He pressed his chest up against Dean’s back, “It’s almost Christmas Day. And I have your present, too.”
“Good. You can give it to me in the morning. Go to sleep.” Despite his gruff tone, Dean placed his hand over Sam’s, where it was resting on his stomach.
They lay in silence for a few minutes, Sam listening to the steady sound of Dean’s breathing. Dean shifted slightly, moved the covers to make sure that Sam was warm enough.
“Hey, Sam?”
“Mhmm.” He kissed the back of Dean’s neck, smirked when his brother shivered.
“Merry Christmas.”
“You too, Dean.”
“Let’s have a good one, this year.” He turned back around again, looked at Sam, “No fighting or talking about hunting or worrying about anything.”
Sam nodded, “Just us. And the eggnog, and presents, and we’ll spend all morning in bed.”
“All day.” He kissed the spot just under Sam’s collarbone, and then bit down, causing Sam to hiss in pain, “Starting now.” He leaned down to soothe the pain away in the best way that he knew how.