Ficlet - End of the Road
Sep. 16th, 2012 12:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verucasalt123Title:End Of The Road
Author: verucasalt123
Characters:Dean and Sam
Genre/pairing:Sam/Dean
Rating:R for language
Word-count: ~1000
Spoilers:S7 maybe
Warnings: permanent injury, implied Wincest
Summary: for this anonymous prompt: Remember how, in "Bad Day At Black Rock", Sam got into a fight with the motel curtains and lost? (And lost *hilariously*?) Well, have something like that happen to Dean. Sam finds him and laughs at first, but then comforts him. Wincest preferred but gen is fine, as is AU. I hope this somehow fits into the prompter’s idea
Disclaimer: Neither Sam nor Dean belong to me.
All in all, it hadn’t been so bad. They’d found a nice little house in Niwot, close enough to Denver that they could drive there when they needed things, far enough away that Dean didn’t feel like he was closed in. He’d never liked big cities, and to be honest, though Sam didn’t hate big cities, he didn’t love them either. A small town was just right for the brothers.
Giving up hunting had been a tough transition, but they didn’t really have any other choice. Sam still suffered from the occasional bout of temporary insanity, though the incidents were getting fewer and farther between. Dean, as their luck would have it, had been permanently injured in a physical way. No, not in the chase after the Leviathans, not being tossed into something hard and damaging by a vengeful spirit. He’d stumbled on a curb and landed wrong on his shoulder that was already fucked up.
Sam, at first, had chuckled, rolled his eyes, and attempted to help Dean up from the sidewalk.
But no, no, fuck no, it wasn’t that easy. Sam’s smile faded quickly when he saw the look on Dean’s face.
“Bad?” he asked, already steeling himself for the typical Dean reaction.
That wasn’t what he got, though. Dean’s face was pale, his lips trembling as he managed to get out between hitched breaths and tears in his eyes, “Yeah. Um, yeah, bad…Jesus, Sammy…”
And then Sam saw it, Dean’s arm hanging at an alarmingly unusual angle without the expected “Just pop it back in, okay?” that normally occurred in these circumstances. Sam had relocated Dean’s shoulder no less than four times in the past couple of years, but Dean wasn’t asking Sam to fix it this time.
“Hospital?” Sam asked, incredulously.
Even more surprising, without even a second of hesitation, Dean replied, “Yeah, hospital, now, please.”
Sam managed to maneuver his brother into the passenger side of the Impala, snaking the keys from his brother’s pocket and headed to the closest trauma center with no regard for stupid shit like red lights and stop signs. He figured blaring the horn through the intersections would alert other drivers and keep Dean awake, both good things.
Not even bothering with fake insurance cards or waiting to fill out paperwork, Sam just burst through the automatic doors of the emergency department yelling, “I need help here, NOW”.
It was probably a combination of his intimidating voice and size, coupled with the fact that he had a full-grown man almost passed out, bridal style in his arms, that got the immediate attention of the staff. They were whisked beyond the triage area, no paperwork filled out, before a physician made her appearance.
Taking in Dean’s pallor and shallow breaths, she asked Sam, “This isn’t the first time his shoulder has been dislocated?”
Sam answered honestly, “Not even close. Fourth or fifth time, at least.”
“What happened?”
“He tripped on a curb.”
“Before, though. Why did this happen to him so many times?”
“We’re in a dangerous line of work. Physical. Can’t you just fix it?”
She explained that there would have to be an MRI and a CT scan before she could answer that question. Sam just nodded his agreement, still numb from Dean’s reaction to this completely random injury.
Before either of them knew it, the results were in. Dean could do some physical therapy, exercises on his own at ‘home’ (HA!), but the damage was permanent. His arm wasn’t ever going to function correctly again.
And yeah, it was his left arm, Dean was right-handed, but still. Hunting with only one working upper extremity was out of the question. Too dangerous to even consider as a possibility.
By the time Dean got discharged, Sam had already rented the house and started circling want-ads for menial jobs he figured he might be able to manage with no history of actual work experience to his name. To their fortune, the tiny house came furnished, only one bedroom but that wasn’t an issue since they’d been sharing a bed for the past couple of years anyway.
Of course, yes, of course, Dean was pissed off. He’d never felt he’d be good at anything except hunting, and now not only could he not do that anymore, he couldn’t even work, not yet, he was going to have to lay around this place and let his baby brother support him. Jesus fuck.
Sam, being Sam, had only what was natural to him in an attempt to comfort his brother. “Dean. If this happened to me, if I couldn’t hunt anymore, what would you do? Toss me aside and keep going? Really? Tell me that’s what you would do.”
Dean had no strength to argue. “Of course not, Jesus, Sammy, come on…I’d never leave you, you know that.”
“And I’ll never leave you. So deal. This blows, kind of. But it’s nice, too, in a way. Just us, no more baddies, no more monsters. Me and you, and my stupid job as a clerk as the convenience store up the street. You’re gonna be okay, do your exercises, heal up some, get your own job. In the meantime, though, just let me do this. For once, God, after all the times you’ve done it for me. Let me take care of you, just for a while. Please. Please?”
It took a while, but Dean got it eventually. This was it for them, Sam going to work and Dean religiously working on his physical therapy at home.
Home.
Author: verucasalt123
Characters:Dean and Sam
Genre/pairing:Sam/Dean
Rating:R for language
Word-count: ~1000
Spoilers:S7 maybe
Warnings: permanent injury, implied Wincest
Summary: for this anonymous prompt: Remember how, in "Bad Day At Black Rock", Sam got into a fight with the motel curtains and lost? (And lost *hilariously*?) Well, have something like that happen to Dean. Sam finds him and laughs at first, but then comforts him. Wincest preferred but gen is fine, as is AU. I hope this somehow fits into the prompter’s idea
Disclaimer: Neither Sam nor Dean belong to me.
All in all, it hadn’t been so bad. They’d found a nice little house in Niwot, close enough to Denver that they could drive there when they needed things, far enough away that Dean didn’t feel like he was closed in. He’d never liked big cities, and to be honest, though Sam didn’t hate big cities, he didn’t love them either. A small town was just right for the brothers.
Giving up hunting had been a tough transition, but they didn’t really have any other choice. Sam still suffered from the occasional bout of temporary insanity, though the incidents were getting fewer and farther between. Dean, as their luck would have it, had been permanently injured in a physical way. No, not in the chase after the Leviathans, not being tossed into something hard and damaging by a vengeful spirit. He’d stumbled on a curb and landed wrong on his shoulder that was already fucked up.
Sam, at first, had chuckled, rolled his eyes, and attempted to help Dean up from the sidewalk.
But no, no, fuck no, it wasn’t that easy. Sam’s smile faded quickly when he saw the look on Dean’s face.
“Bad?” he asked, already steeling himself for the typical Dean reaction.
That wasn’t what he got, though. Dean’s face was pale, his lips trembling as he managed to get out between hitched breaths and tears in his eyes, “Yeah. Um, yeah, bad…Jesus, Sammy…”
And then Sam saw it, Dean’s arm hanging at an alarmingly unusual angle without the expected “Just pop it back in, okay?” that normally occurred in these circumstances. Sam had relocated Dean’s shoulder no less than four times in the past couple of years, but Dean wasn’t asking Sam to fix it this time.
“Hospital?” Sam asked, incredulously.
Even more surprising, without even a second of hesitation, Dean replied, “Yeah, hospital, now, please.”
Sam managed to maneuver his brother into the passenger side of the Impala, snaking the keys from his brother’s pocket and headed to the closest trauma center with no regard for stupid shit like red lights and stop signs. He figured blaring the horn through the intersections would alert other drivers and keep Dean awake, both good things.
Not even bothering with fake insurance cards or waiting to fill out paperwork, Sam just burst through the automatic doors of the emergency department yelling, “I need help here, NOW”.
It was probably a combination of his intimidating voice and size, coupled with the fact that he had a full-grown man almost passed out, bridal style in his arms, that got the immediate attention of the staff. They were whisked beyond the triage area, no paperwork filled out, before a physician made her appearance.
Taking in Dean’s pallor and shallow breaths, she asked Sam, “This isn’t the first time his shoulder has been dislocated?”
Sam answered honestly, “Not even close. Fourth or fifth time, at least.”
“What happened?”
“He tripped on a curb.”
“Before, though. Why did this happen to him so many times?”
“We’re in a dangerous line of work. Physical. Can’t you just fix it?”
She explained that there would have to be an MRI and a CT scan before she could answer that question. Sam just nodded his agreement, still numb from Dean’s reaction to this completely random injury.
Before either of them knew it, the results were in. Dean could do some physical therapy, exercises on his own at ‘home’ (HA!), but the damage was permanent. His arm wasn’t ever going to function correctly again.
And yeah, it was his left arm, Dean was right-handed, but still. Hunting with only one working upper extremity was out of the question. Too dangerous to even consider as a possibility.
By the time Dean got discharged, Sam had already rented the house and started circling want-ads for menial jobs he figured he might be able to manage with no history of actual work experience to his name. To their fortune, the tiny house came furnished, only one bedroom but that wasn’t an issue since they’d been sharing a bed for the past couple of years anyway.
Of course, yes, of course, Dean was pissed off. He’d never felt he’d be good at anything except hunting, and now not only could he not do that anymore, he couldn’t even work, not yet, he was going to have to lay around this place and let his baby brother support him. Jesus fuck.
Sam, being Sam, had only what was natural to him in an attempt to comfort his brother. “Dean. If this happened to me, if I couldn’t hunt anymore, what would you do? Toss me aside and keep going? Really? Tell me that’s what you would do.”
Dean had no strength to argue. “Of course not, Jesus, Sammy, come on…I’d never leave you, you know that.”
“And I’ll never leave you. So deal. This blows, kind of. But it’s nice, too, in a way. Just us, no more baddies, no more monsters. Me and you, and my stupid job as a clerk as the convenience store up the street. You’re gonna be okay, do your exercises, heal up some, get your own job. In the meantime, though, just let me do this. For once, God, after all the times you’ve done it for me. Let me take care of you, just for a while. Please. Please?”
It took a while, but Dean got it eventually. This was it for them, Sam going to work and Dean religiously working on his physical therapy at home.
Home.
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Edition 2,335
Date: 2012-09-16 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 06:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 11:12 am (UTC)(and of course they then live a Wincesty happily-ever-after having to work out positions and angles. Mm. ^^
no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 03:07 pm (UTC)I love the domestic boys though.. the thought of them living out their lives in a house, as a couple and Sam being super domestic with the cooking and cleaning.. lol Sammy is such a care giver..
Good job.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 06:29 pm (UTC)Another brill story hon, I love reading fic's where the boy's have a home. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 07:08 pm (UTC)In my head Sam is so the girl in this fic. Dean would be beyond pleased. :)
Lovely job!
no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 11:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 11:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-25 04:33 pm (UTC)OTP Weekly Recap: 9/23/2012: Edition #71
Date: 2012-09-27 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-01 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-01 06:15 am (UTC)