Just Breathe Ch 4/?
Title: Just Breathe Chapter 4/?
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13 Language (This chapter, eventually NC-17. We're getting there!)
Warnings: Wincest, underage, D/S? (Not in my mind but maybe in yours)
Word Count: 2,222
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dad is away and Sam falls ill leaving Dean to deal with a sick brother. Sam's terrified and Dean still doesn't know what happened.
Author Notes: Title from Faith Hill song of the same name. I warned for D/S, but it was not written as such. More Sam's trust in Dean, but some may see it differently. Also, completely unbeta-ed.
Dean’s mind wasn’t sure where it was going but it trusted his heart to lead him there. He turned left at the empty Nurse’s Station and saw two orderlies running into a room at the end of the hall. His boots slid slightly on the polished floor as he came to a stop outside the door to Room 213. Looking in, he tried to make sense of the chaos. Four people, the two orderlies he’d seen enter along with two nurses, were crowded around the bed fighting desperately to hold down a long, lanky, desperately thrashing body he recognized immediately as Sam and by the looks of it were failing miserably. On the floor underneath the bed, Dean could see growing puddles of blood and a clear liquid mixing together. Above the alarms on the monitor and the hospital staff’s frantic voices, he could hear Sam’s terrified screams for him interspersed with ragged breathing. As Dean began to enter, he was pushed aside by Dr. Blaire rushing in holding a syringe.
“Don’t,” Dean yelled loud enough to be heard over the commotion. The doctor shot him an incredulous look but stilled his fingers on the cap to the hypodermic needle. “Just give me a second before you drug him again.”
Dean walked around to the side of the bed, the four staff members holding Sam tightly as he continued to struggle, and squatted down to look directly into Sam’s eyes.
“Sam? Sammy. Listen, I need you to calm down or the doctor is going to sedate you again. Do you understand me?”
Sam’s eyes slid into focus at the sound of Dean’s voice and he stopped fighting. His breaths were coming out in rattling gasps, interspersed with coughs that caused his whole body to tremble as he nodded. Dean cupped Sam’s face and stroked his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.
“That’s good, baby boy. Okay, if you promise me to relax these people will let you go. Do you promise, Sam?”
*Gasp* “Yes”* Gasp*
Dean looked up at the skeptical faces surrounding Sam’s bed and nodded for them to back off. “I got him.” Unsure eyes glanced at the doctor as, reluctantly, they released their holds, but each person hovered closely to the side of the bed. Dean’s thumb continued it path back and forth on the bone under Sam’s eye comforting the fear he could still see there.
Dean felt warmth spread on his thigh and looked down to see a growing stain of red on his jeans under where Sam’s hand hung over the bed rail. Frowning, his eyes followed the red stream running down Sam’s arm to the broken IV catheter at his elbow. Dean allowed himself a moment to take in the whole scene: an IV line hung limply from the elevated bag dripping the clear liquid on the floor that he had noticed earlier, some kind of oxygen mask with broken straps dangled from the opposite side bed rail and a tangle of gray wires laid haphazardly across the white sheets. Realization dawned on him. Sam had pulled his IV out and ripped the monitor leads and oxygen mask off when he woke up without Dean by his side.
“Gauze,” Dean asked the red-headed nurse next to him flatly, trying to contain the anger, hotly bubbling just below the surface all day, from boiling over. Yet. Right now wasn’t the time, but he would definitely make some later. She looked at the doctor for approval before handing him a square white pad.
“Sam. You broke your IV when you were struggling. I’m going to pull out the end still in your arm and stop the bleeding. Then the nurse will put a new one in. They are also going to hook you back up to the monitors so they can see how you are doing.” Dean spoke softly like he was talking to a small child, like he had when Sam was a small child. Sam’s gaze was trusting; he opened his mouth to say something then decided against it, nodding his understanding again instead. Once the gauze was secured by tape, handed dutifully and silently to him by the red-headed nurse, Dean held Sam’s other arm steady as the nurse on the opposite side of the bed placed a new IV and connected the line to the bags hanging above Sam’s bed. Sam stayed pliant, owlish eyes carefully watching as the two nurses placed the various wires, connected to the now silent monitor, on his body. The small screen came to life showing the wild beat of Sam’s heart in rhythmic waves, numbers for things Dean didn’t understand displayed as quantifiable proof of Sam’s vitality.
“Anything else?” Dean looked at Dr. Blaire who stood near the foot of the bed still holding the syringe. He’d dismissed the two orderlies when it appeared Dean had Sam under control, but apparently had kept the sedative at the ready for insurance. Dean felt Sam tighten next to him and slide his feet further up the bed at the sight of the needle. He tenderly turned Sam’s face back to him, locked gazes, and felt the tension start to ebb from Sam’s muscles.
“The mask. It will be uncomfortable feeling at first and the mask itself is tight. “
“Sam? Did you hear the doctor?” Sam nodded. “Good. “
The red-haired nurse reached into a cabinet next to Sam’s bed and pulled out new straps for the mask. Her nimble fingers quickly changed out the damaged ones for the new ones then she gently placed her hand on Dean’s shoulder indicating she needed him to move. Dean stroked Sam’s face once more before removing his hand. The nurse lifted the mask to Sam’s face and in relaxing tones explained how it fit and its purpose in his treatment. As the plastic seal touched his cheeks and Dean was blocked from his view, Sam’s eyes grew wide and panicked. He didn’t flail again or cry out but reached blindly for his brother’s hand. Dean laced his fingers with Sam’s and squeezed them reassuringly. When the nurse stepped back, all Dean could see of Sam’s features were his fear tinged hazel eyes.
Sammy, what the hell happened to you while I was in the waiting room?
“Sam,” Dr. Blaire said softly as he stepped closer to Sam’s head. “I’ve started you on a round of general antibiotics for the infection. I am also going to give you something for pain and it will more than likely make you sleepy. I know that you can’t talk with the mask on, but if you understand can you give me a sign? Nod or something?”
Sam’s left hand tightened around Dean’s and he looked at his brother with worried eyes. Dean could read each question in the hazel orbs as well as if Sam was able to speak them. Is it safe? Will you stay with me? Will you be here when I wake up? Being given anything that would incapacitate them while in a medical facility was not something they agreed to easily. There was always a possibility that they would need to leave a place quickly and sleepily drugged was not conducive to speedy escapes. But Dean knew that after struggling so hard, Sam’s ribs had to be hurting him and once the adrenaline wore off he’d be in serious pain. He leaned over and ran the fingers of his free hand through the hair on Sam’s forehead soothing both Sam and himself.
“It’ll be okay. You need to rest. I’ll be here in case you need me.” Dean looked up at the doctor daring him to contradict him, challenging him to say he couldn’t stay with his brother. Sam followed Dean’s gaze. After an uncomfortable swallow, Dr. Blaire nodded probably deciding it better to keep Dean close than have Sam freak out again. Sam’s right hand curled into an OK sign. The doctor nodded again and murmured something about the nurse bringing it in in a few minutes before leaving the brothers alone.
Dean stared down at where his fingers were still intertwined with his brother’s. Sam was going to be fine. They were going to be fine.
He could have died, a small voice in the back of his mind supplied quietly.
Sammy could have died, it corrected itself.
Sam squeezed his hand and the corner of Dean’s mouth curved up in the ghost of a smile but his eyes remained on their hands. Sam shook their hands with quick, jerky movements to get Dean’s attention.
Oh right, can’t talk around the mask. He smiled up at Sam, schooling his features into a reassuring expression. “Yeah, Sammy?”
Sam’s eyebrows were scrunched together and raised, a crease forming on his forehead, typical Sammy for ‘what’s wrong?’. Sam’s thumb drew lazy circles on the back of Dean’s hand and Dean almost laughed. Almost. After everything that had happened to him, Sam was worried about Dean.
“Nothing, Sammy. I’m fine. You just rest and concentrate on getting better.”
Sam quirked an eyebrow over eyes that looked too old and weary for a teenager’s face and Dean knew that expression too. It was ‘don’t lie to me’. He searched his brother’s face, his Sammy’s face and leaned forward to place his hand on the side of Sam’s neck. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Sam.” Gripping the back of Sam’s neck firmly, he continued through gritted teeth, ”you stubborn bastard. You could’ve died. I could’ve…” Dean stopped; a lump formed in his throat and choked off the rest of his words. I could have lost you.
Sam tried to say something but all that made it past the mask was a garbled mumble. He tried again with similar results.
“Sam, just rest. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better,” Dean told him even though they both knew they never would.
Sam reached up and began tearing at the straps to the mask, pulling them in an attempt to free himself again. Dean’s hands flew up and stilled the frantic movements.
“Sam, stop. Stop!” Dean lowered Sam’s hands and held them loosely but securely in his own. “You need that. Whatever you want to say can wait until you get it off. Nothing is more important than you getting well.” Dean’s eyes glittered with a fierce look.
The red haired nurse reentered the room carrying a syringe of clear liquid, smiling quizzically at them. She walked over to Sam’s IV line and connected the syringe to the tube and emptied its contents. As she turned to walk away, Sam pulled his wrist free from Dean’s grip and gently reached out to lay a hand on her arm. Dean was taken aback when her eyes flashed frightened for a moment before she realized that Sam’s touch was meant to get her attention and he wasn’t going to harm her. Sam had really scared this woman with his outburst earlier and Dean had to stifle a snort at the thought of his tender hearted brother as intimidating.
Sure! During a hunt Sam could be a force to be reckoned with (he proved that last Saturday), but any other time Sam was the type of person people wanted to give cookies and milk to and take home to meet their grandmothers. Ninety percent of the time, Sam was nothing more than an over six foot teddy bear with a lethal set of puppy dog eyes.
When his focus returned, he saw the nurse digging in the top drawer of the small table next to Sam’s bed. Wait, what did he miss? The nurse pulled out a small pad with the hospital logo across the top and a pencil. Sam pulled his other hand free from Dean when she handed them to him. Sam eyes softened the way they did when he smiled and the woman smiled in return. Before she walked out, she said, “My name is Susan. I will be your nurse tonight. That should help you sleep and usually works pretty quick. Let me know if you need anything."
Dean watched her go, still slightly stunned by the fact that Sam had scared her, when he heard scribbling. Sam turned the paper for Dean to see. Only one word marred the page in Sam’s small scrawl.
SORRY.
“Sam. Everything is fine. Please just go to sleep.” Dean placed a hand on his leg. Sam’s eyes were already drooping and each blink was lasting just a little longer than the previous. He turned the pad and put pen to paper once more.
LOVE YOU DE
Dean’s heart warmed inexplicably at the sight of the words and the childhood nickname. “Sleep, Sammy,” he whispered, taking the pad and pen from him with his free hand and setting them on the bedside table. Dean sat quietly, his hand still on his brother’s thigh, until finally Sam gave up the fight against sleep and his eyes closed.
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He had officially passed tired and was now into full blown exhaustion. Sam’s earlier panic attack drained what little reserves he’d had left. Dean needed coffee, lots of coffee, and he needed to call his Dad again. He watched his peacefully slumbering brother for a few minutes before he reluctantly pulled his hand back and slipped out the door.
Chapter 5
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13 Language (This chapter, eventually NC-17. We're getting there!)
Warnings: Wincest, underage, D/S? (Not in my mind but maybe in yours)
Word Count: 2,222
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dad is away and Sam falls ill leaving Dean to deal with a sick brother. Sam's terrified and Dean still doesn't know what happened.
Author Notes: Title from Faith Hill song of the same name. I warned for D/S, but it was not written as such. More Sam's trust in Dean, but some may see it differently. Also, completely unbeta-ed.
Dean’s mind wasn’t sure where it was going but it trusted his heart to lead him there. He turned left at the empty Nurse’s Station and saw two orderlies running into a room at the end of the hall. His boots slid slightly on the polished floor as he came to a stop outside the door to Room 213. Looking in, he tried to make sense of the chaos. Four people, the two orderlies he’d seen enter along with two nurses, were crowded around the bed fighting desperately to hold down a long, lanky, desperately thrashing body he recognized immediately as Sam and by the looks of it were failing miserably. On the floor underneath the bed, Dean could see growing puddles of blood and a clear liquid mixing together. Above the alarms on the monitor and the hospital staff’s frantic voices, he could hear Sam’s terrified screams for him interspersed with ragged breathing. As Dean began to enter, he was pushed aside by Dr. Blaire rushing in holding a syringe.
“Don’t,” Dean yelled loud enough to be heard over the commotion. The doctor shot him an incredulous look but stilled his fingers on the cap to the hypodermic needle. “Just give me a second before you drug him again.”
Dean walked around to the side of the bed, the four staff members holding Sam tightly as he continued to struggle, and squatted down to look directly into Sam’s eyes.
“Sam? Sammy. Listen, I need you to calm down or the doctor is going to sedate you again. Do you understand me?”
Sam’s eyes slid into focus at the sound of Dean’s voice and he stopped fighting. His breaths were coming out in rattling gasps, interspersed with coughs that caused his whole body to tremble as he nodded. Dean cupped Sam’s face and stroked his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.
“That’s good, baby boy. Okay, if you promise me to relax these people will let you go. Do you promise, Sam?”
*Gasp* “Yes”* Gasp*
Dean looked up at the skeptical faces surrounding Sam’s bed and nodded for them to back off. “I got him.” Unsure eyes glanced at the doctor as, reluctantly, they released their holds, but each person hovered closely to the side of the bed. Dean’s thumb continued it path back and forth on the bone under Sam’s eye comforting the fear he could still see there.
Dean felt warmth spread on his thigh and looked down to see a growing stain of red on his jeans under where Sam’s hand hung over the bed rail. Frowning, his eyes followed the red stream running down Sam’s arm to the broken IV catheter at his elbow. Dean allowed himself a moment to take in the whole scene: an IV line hung limply from the elevated bag dripping the clear liquid on the floor that he had noticed earlier, some kind of oxygen mask with broken straps dangled from the opposite side bed rail and a tangle of gray wires laid haphazardly across the white sheets. Realization dawned on him. Sam had pulled his IV out and ripped the monitor leads and oxygen mask off when he woke up without Dean by his side.
“Gauze,” Dean asked the red-headed nurse next to him flatly, trying to contain the anger, hotly bubbling just below the surface all day, from boiling over. Yet. Right now wasn’t the time, but he would definitely make some later. She looked at the doctor for approval before handing him a square white pad.
“Sam. You broke your IV when you were struggling. I’m going to pull out the end still in your arm and stop the bleeding. Then the nurse will put a new one in. They are also going to hook you back up to the monitors so they can see how you are doing.” Dean spoke softly like he was talking to a small child, like he had when Sam was a small child. Sam’s gaze was trusting; he opened his mouth to say something then decided against it, nodding his understanding again instead. Once the gauze was secured by tape, handed dutifully and silently to him by the red-headed nurse, Dean held Sam’s other arm steady as the nurse on the opposite side of the bed placed a new IV and connected the line to the bags hanging above Sam’s bed. Sam stayed pliant, owlish eyes carefully watching as the two nurses placed the various wires, connected to the now silent monitor, on his body. The small screen came to life showing the wild beat of Sam’s heart in rhythmic waves, numbers for things Dean didn’t understand displayed as quantifiable proof of Sam’s vitality.
“Anything else?” Dean looked at Dr. Blaire who stood near the foot of the bed still holding the syringe. He’d dismissed the two orderlies when it appeared Dean had Sam under control, but apparently had kept the sedative at the ready for insurance. Dean felt Sam tighten next to him and slide his feet further up the bed at the sight of the needle. He tenderly turned Sam’s face back to him, locked gazes, and felt the tension start to ebb from Sam’s muscles.
“The mask. It will be uncomfortable feeling at first and the mask itself is tight. “
“Sam? Did you hear the doctor?” Sam nodded. “Good. “
The red-haired nurse reached into a cabinet next to Sam’s bed and pulled out new straps for the mask. Her nimble fingers quickly changed out the damaged ones for the new ones then she gently placed her hand on Dean’s shoulder indicating she needed him to move. Dean stroked Sam’s face once more before removing his hand. The nurse lifted the mask to Sam’s face and in relaxing tones explained how it fit and its purpose in his treatment. As the plastic seal touched his cheeks and Dean was blocked from his view, Sam’s eyes grew wide and panicked. He didn’t flail again or cry out but reached blindly for his brother’s hand. Dean laced his fingers with Sam’s and squeezed them reassuringly. When the nurse stepped back, all Dean could see of Sam’s features were his fear tinged hazel eyes.
Sammy, what the hell happened to you while I was in the waiting room?
“Sam,” Dr. Blaire said softly as he stepped closer to Sam’s head. “I’ve started you on a round of general antibiotics for the infection. I am also going to give you something for pain and it will more than likely make you sleepy. I know that you can’t talk with the mask on, but if you understand can you give me a sign? Nod or something?”
Sam’s left hand tightened around Dean’s and he looked at his brother with worried eyes. Dean could read each question in the hazel orbs as well as if Sam was able to speak them. Is it safe? Will you stay with me? Will you be here when I wake up? Being given anything that would incapacitate them while in a medical facility was not something they agreed to easily. There was always a possibility that they would need to leave a place quickly and sleepily drugged was not conducive to speedy escapes. But Dean knew that after struggling so hard, Sam’s ribs had to be hurting him and once the adrenaline wore off he’d be in serious pain. He leaned over and ran the fingers of his free hand through the hair on Sam’s forehead soothing both Sam and himself.
“It’ll be okay. You need to rest. I’ll be here in case you need me.” Dean looked up at the doctor daring him to contradict him, challenging him to say he couldn’t stay with his brother. Sam followed Dean’s gaze. After an uncomfortable swallow, Dr. Blaire nodded probably deciding it better to keep Dean close than have Sam freak out again. Sam’s right hand curled into an OK sign. The doctor nodded again and murmured something about the nurse bringing it in in a few minutes before leaving the brothers alone.
Dean stared down at where his fingers were still intertwined with his brother’s. Sam was going to be fine. They were going to be fine.
He could have died, a small voice in the back of his mind supplied quietly.
Sammy could have died, it corrected itself.
Sam squeezed his hand and the corner of Dean’s mouth curved up in the ghost of a smile but his eyes remained on their hands. Sam shook their hands with quick, jerky movements to get Dean’s attention.
Oh right, can’t talk around the mask. He smiled up at Sam, schooling his features into a reassuring expression. “Yeah, Sammy?”
Sam’s eyebrows were scrunched together and raised, a crease forming on his forehead, typical Sammy for ‘what’s wrong?’. Sam’s thumb drew lazy circles on the back of Dean’s hand and Dean almost laughed. Almost. After everything that had happened to him, Sam was worried about Dean.
“Nothing, Sammy. I’m fine. You just rest and concentrate on getting better.”
Sam quirked an eyebrow over eyes that looked too old and weary for a teenager’s face and Dean knew that expression too. It was ‘don’t lie to me’. He searched his brother’s face, his Sammy’s face and leaned forward to place his hand on the side of Sam’s neck. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Sam.” Gripping the back of Sam’s neck firmly, he continued through gritted teeth, ”you stubborn bastard. You could’ve died. I could’ve…” Dean stopped; a lump formed in his throat and choked off the rest of his words. I could have lost you.
Sam tried to say something but all that made it past the mask was a garbled mumble. He tried again with similar results.
“Sam, just rest. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better,” Dean told him even though they both knew they never would.
Sam reached up and began tearing at the straps to the mask, pulling them in an attempt to free himself again. Dean’s hands flew up and stilled the frantic movements.
“Sam, stop. Stop!” Dean lowered Sam’s hands and held them loosely but securely in his own. “You need that. Whatever you want to say can wait until you get it off. Nothing is more important than you getting well.” Dean’s eyes glittered with a fierce look.
The red haired nurse reentered the room carrying a syringe of clear liquid, smiling quizzically at them. She walked over to Sam’s IV line and connected the syringe to the tube and emptied its contents. As she turned to walk away, Sam pulled his wrist free from Dean’s grip and gently reached out to lay a hand on her arm. Dean was taken aback when her eyes flashed frightened for a moment before she realized that Sam’s touch was meant to get her attention and he wasn’t going to harm her. Sam had really scared this woman with his outburst earlier and Dean had to stifle a snort at the thought of his tender hearted brother as intimidating.
Sure! During a hunt Sam could be a force to be reckoned with (he proved that last Saturday), but any other time Sam was the type of person people wanted to give cookies and milk to and take home to meet their grandmothers. Ninety percent of the time, Sam was nothing more than an over six foot teddy bear with a lethal set of puppy dog eyes.
When his focus returned, he saw the nurse digging in the top drawer of the small table next to Sam’s bed. Wait, what did he miss? The nurse pulled out a small pad with the hospital logo across the top and a pencil. Sam pulled his other hand free from Dean when she handed them to him. Sam eyes softened the way they did when he smiled and the woman smiled in return. Before she walked out, she said, “My name is Susan. I will be your nurse tonight. That should help you sleep and usually works pretty quick. Let me know if you need anything."
Dean watched her go, still slightly stunned by the fact that Sam had scared her, when he heard scribbling. Sam turned the paper for Dean to see. Only one word marred the page in Sam’s small scrawl.
SORRY.
“Sam. Everything is fine. Please just go to sleep.” Dean placed a hand on his leg. Sam’s eyes were already drooping and each blink was lasting just a little longer than the previous. He turned the pad and put pen to paper once more.
LOVE YOU DE
Dean’s heart warmed inexplicably at the sight of the words and the childhood nickname. “Sleep, Sammy,” he whispered, taking the pad and pen from him with his free hand and setting them on the bedside table. Dean sat quietly, his hand still on his brother’s thigh, until finally Sam gave up the fight against sleep and his eyes closed.
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He had officially passed tired and was now into full blown exhaustion. Sam’s earlier panic attack drained what little reserves he’d had left. Dean needed coffee, lots of coffee, and he needed to call his Dad again. He watched his peacefully slumbering brother for a few minutes before he reluctantly pulled his hand back and slipped out the door.
Chapter 5