A Psychic, a Hunter, and a Werewolf Walk Into a Bar [3/4]
Title: A Psychic, a Hunter, and a Werewolf Walk Into a Bar
Series/Collection: Psych You Out (A Supernatural Remix)
Rating: M
Characters: Shawn, Dean, MotW
Warnings: language, gore, Dean and his normal brand of roguish charm
Spoilers: none
Genres: Friendship, Gen, Supernatural, Hurt/Comfort, Action/Adventure, Humor
Chapters: 4
Completed: Yes
Word count: 1509 (total: 10,479)
Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
Notes: See chapter 1.
Summary: Shawn was just minding his business and playing some pool when his life took a sharp turn South. And he's not talking Georgia here. But at least it's good company.
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Dean only gave an ironic chuckle and a small shake of his head when he found out that Shawn was staying at the same motel as he was.
His laughter was a little more loud and amused when he found out that they were next door neighbors.
But since he was pretty sure he had the better first aid kit he steered their stumbling steps towards his own door.
"Not on the first date," Shawn said wearily when he realized he was at the wrong door. His words were a little more slurred now, but that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the adrenaline wearing off.
Dean gave a half-hearted chuckle and said, "For the very last time, Spencer, I'm not your type. And you're not mine," he added when his own weary brain realized how that sounded.
"You can't resist my charm," Shawn mumbled. "None of the girls can."
Dean gave him a glare as he dropped him unceremoniously on the bed nearest the bathroom.
"You keep talking like that and I won't give you drugs."
Shawn's eyes popped open. "You have drugs?" His arms came up and his fingers wiggled. "Gimme."
"Nope," Dean said, getting a washcloth from the bathroom and wetting it. "Have to make sure you're not bleeding anywhere first."
Shawn huffed a resentful sigh. "Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean responded, then froze.
But Shawn didn't think anything of it and just pushed himself up, wincing as he probed the back of his head.
Dean gratefully took the reprieve offered and swallowed, forcing his mind back to the moment at hand.
"Bleeding?" he asked.
Shawn let his hand fall. "Don't think so. Man. I hope that doesn't interfere with my helmet."
"Helmet?" Dean asked as he gently pushed Shawn's head towards his knees so he could take a look himself.
"Yeah. I mean, I can go without of course, but I'd rather not. Dumb motorcyclists are also dead ones."
"Ah. So the Norton out there is yours?"
Shawn smiled. "Yeah. My baby. My freedom. Spent my college fund on it. Pissed my dad off to no end. But I'm not really a college kind of guy. And besides, when high school ended . . ." He shrugged. "Staying at home wasn't very appealing. So I bought a bike and hit the road."
Dean couldn't totally sympathize with that on a personal level but, well, he kind of could. He got the need to roam. That made perfect sense to him. And he sort of understood the need to escape. Sort of.
He at least had some experience with the rebellious teenager wanting to get out from under Dad's rule and making a decision based at least partially on how much it would piss off Dad, even if he hadn't fell that way personally.
"It's a nice bike," he said when he realized the silence had stretched. "Gotta get some ice. Be right back," he said and ducked out of the room.
He took a deep breath and then shook his head and rolled his shoulders.
And then he went in search of the ice machine and wondered what Sam would think of Shawn.
Dean snorted. Probably both love him and hate him.
They could commiserate about overbearing fathers who tried to control their lives, but the college thing would definitely be something they would have to agree to disagree about.
Dean returned to the room, bucket in hand, but was surprised to find it empty.
Until the toilet flushed and water ran and he realized the door to the bathroom was closed.
It opened and Shawn stepped out.
"Sorry. I've had to pee since before that thing attacked."
Dean waved it off. "No problem. Who am I to deny a man the right to pee?"
Shawn chuckled and accepted the bag of ice Dean offered, putting it to the lump on his head and sighing as the cool ice began to soothe the bump.
"Well," he said, sticking his free hand in his pocket. "I appreciate the, uh, help and all. But it's late and I should probably be going."
"Sit down."
Shawn's eyebrows went up instead. "Sorry?"
"You have a mild concussion, Shawn," Dean explained. "I'm not letting you go back to your room so you can get an aneurysm and die in your sleep or something. Sit. I don't need both beds."
"Um, really, that's okay I-"
"Sit. Now."
Shawn sat like his knees had been cut through.
Dean felt a little bad about using the Marine Voice he learned from his dad, but, well, he meant what he'd said. He didn't save Shawn's ass just to let him die-and no he didn't care who fired the damn bullet, Shawn would have been puppy chow if he hadn't been there.
"You can lay down and even go to sleep if you want, but expect a wake up call in a few hours."
Shawn sank back, but didn't immediately drift off.
Especially when he heard the soft curse from the other bed.
He opened his eyes to see Dean curled over, peering at his own leg where a rip in the jeans exposed a jagged slash in his thigh.
Dean looked up to find the first aid kit and saw Shawn looking at him. "Fucker swiped me with his claw," he said easily, then pointed to the first aid kit on the bed by Shawn. "Can you hand me one of the suture kits and the bottle of water?"
"Shouldn't you go to the hospital?"
Dean shook his head. "Little thing like this? Nah. Not worth the insurance card."
Shawn hesitated, but at the Look from Dean dug into the large kit and pulled out a smaller package labeled 'sutures' and a bottle of water marked HH2O. He smiled at the mislabeling.
"What's so giggleworthy over there, Moe?"
Shawn held up the bottle and grinned.
Dean stared blankly. "Yeah?" he said and reached for it.
"Uh, water is 'H2O'? Not 'HH2O'?"
Dean smirked. "Well this isn't just water, smartass."
"Extra hydrogen makes it extra healthy?" Shawn snickered.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Actually it's Holy Water. Thus HH2O."
"Oh. Oka-" Shawn blinked. "Wait. What?"
Dean was pouring the water over his leg though and wincing and missed the question.
It didn't bubble up or steam and he really hadn't expected it to, but one could never be too sure with fuglies.
"Peroxide."
Shawn frowned, but dug in and found the bottle, wincing in sympathy as Dean cursed and hissed at that dousing.
Once it stopped bubbling he patted it dry and then opened the suture kit, hands working with familiar ease as he prepped the needle.
"Dude, you're not seriously going to give yourself stitches."
Dean glanced up, then refocused on the wound. "Well it ain't gonna stitch itself," he said.
"But . . ."
Dean sighed and lowered the hand with the needle. "Do you know how to do stitches?"
Shawn's eyes widened. "No! That's what doctors are for, dumbass!"
"Yeah well doctors are idiots who ask too many damn questions and charge too much damn money. So if you have nothing constructive to offer-like, say, the ability to stitch my damn leg up-then shut the hell up and let me do it."
Shawn shut up and let him work, offering no further criticism. Though he did watch the whole time because, frankly, it was fascinating and not a little impressive.
Dean tied off the last stitch and clipped the thread, then replaced the needle and shut the case. He set it on the nightstand, grabbed the bottle of painkillers he'd already dosed Shawn from, and downed the pills, chasing it with a gulp of holy water. Mostly because it was at hand and not because he suspected any further trouble from the wound.
He took a mental inventory but could come up with no further injuries beyond bruises and other things that could only be tended to with time so he let himself sink back onto the bed, eyes drifting shut.
"Take a picture. Lasts longer."
Shawn blinked. "Dude, you just stitched up your own leg."
"Yep."
"That's . . ."
"Impressive as hell and all in a day's work. Now you might want to go to sleep because the clock is already ticking on your wakeup call in two hours."
And with that Dean apparently took his own advice and dropped off to sleep.
Shawn goggled and stared for a few more seconds before laying back on the bed.
He wasn't sure he'd be sleeping, but he could think in the dark as well as the light so out of consideration for Dean he flipped off the light between the beds.
It was going to be a long night.
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