Tender Mercies
by Merisha
Synopsis: Just a bit of lighthearted fun. Dean has injured his … well 'um' … his pride LOL - leading to some humorous banter.
This is dedicated to all my fanfic buds and sis … hope this makes you smile!
Thanks as always to my wonderful beta Phoebe … who spotted all my errors and who I borrowed 'skunk ape' from, she also forced me to use my first BIG swear word LOL – and Rin and Vixxie for the quick spell check - enjoy!
Warning: Rated M for adult content and bad language LOL ;0)
Dean's POV
"Ow, ow!"
I adjust the icepack strategically, letting the coolness numb the pain flaring from my mortal wound.
I glare at Sammy again as he rubs the back of his neck nervously, a dangerously cheeky smirk attempting to pull at his lips as he takes a tentative sip of coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He won't dare laugh … he knows I'll kill him.
I shift irritably, lying on the hard hospital bed, god I hate icepacks … and hospitals … and doctors … and fuglies, I especially hate fuglies.
'Severely pulled groin muscle'. I grunt in discomfort. Lunging after your gangly legged younger brother as he nearly falls backwards down the stairs will do that to you. Clumsy bastard! The fact that a pissed off Poltergeist was the reason he nearly swan dived down the staircase conveniently slips my mind for now. I need to bitch and Sammy's the lucky recipient.
"Dean, seriously … it's not that bad."
I immediately start hyperventilating.
"Not that bad! Not that bad?"
I press the icepack into the tender muscle between my leg and crotch.
"Are you shitting me Sam? I've just pulled a part of my anatomy I didn't even know I had … and it's right by my package dude!"
My free hand waves frantically over the said potentially damaged appendage in emphasis.
"I have swelling … and not in a good way!"
Sammy quickly covers his mouth with his hand as he snorts, and coughs, trying to hide his humor … freakin' unsuccessfully mind you … insensitive bitch! I give him another dirty look, at the same time wondering if I'll be able to get my hands on one of those tooshie doughnut thingies somewhere in this joint.
A doctor walks in.
"Mr 'Hand' cock?"
I look over at Sammy again, a recent sip of coffee spewing out off his mouth and nose … if he weren't choking right now, I'd strangle him.
"It's Hancock …"
"Oh, sorry about that, well Mr 'Han' cock …"
I watch my red faced brother run from the room to continue coughing and choking in the hallway, the little jerk-off. I find myself grinning, despite myself … damnit!
"… we got your test results back, and your concerns were unfounded, there's no internal bleeding … but I'm afraid you have pulled a muscle. Only thing we can do for you is give you a muscle relaxant, some pain killers … but other than that you should just take it easy for a few weeks … nothing strenuous … and definitely no sex."
Oh god … it's worse than I thought … I look at him nervously.
"Will I still be able to pee?"
The doctor chuckles, oblivious to the severity of the situation, I mean we're talking life and death stuff here, where did this asshole get his medical degree?
"You shouldn't have any problems, just a bit of pain and sensitivity in your lower regions, but you'll make a full recovery."
Pain and sensitivity in my lower regions? Shit, more like 'vice like grip with a triple twist on my joystick'. I groan, scrunching my eyes closed at the thought and adjusting the icepack again. This definitely sucks.
"I'll get you something for the pain and write you a script for some pain meds and anti-inflammatories. In the meantime we'll inject the area to numb it, but you'll have to walk carefully after that, if you over exert yourself you could tear something."
Oh god, the throbbing flares up again … 'walk' … 'carefully' … check!
"I'll be right back."
I watch him leave with pained eyes as Sammy saunters back in … saunters … the bastard is sauntering … rubbing it in my face.
"What did the doc say?"
"He says I'm lucky to be alive!"
Sammy has the nerve to roll his eyes and huff, pulling his lips into that sulky pout.
"Seriously Dean, how many more times do I have to apologize? I didn't do this on purpose man."
Shit … he's using the dog face …
"I know … I know … I'm just cranky and sore, you're forgiven already … just stop with the look!"
I rub my eyes tiredly while he hovers guiltily next to my bed. I can feel it, can feel the nervous energy bouncing off him in waves.
"I'm okay Sam … I promise …"
The doc walks back in with a tray and Sammy's 'hiss' becomes my 'cringe' when I see the size of the needle. My seven foot something younger bro, who can just about single handedly take on the scariest mothers out there, starts heading for the door uneasily. Damn girl.
"I'll leave … I'm just outside if you need me …"
He's suddenly two shades of pale so I look over at the doc with a fake 'devil-may-care' expression, wiggling my eyebrows, swallowing hard as my throat suddenly goes dry, "… my sister hates needles."
Sammy looks slightly affronted as I wave him out, even though I'm seriously tempted to ask him to stay … and hold my hand. I'd also take a freakin' monster over an injection any day. Is it too late to change my mind? A sharp pain hits me like a sledge hammer and I grunt … guess so. Instead I chew my lip nervously as the doctor fills the syringe with a nine inch (at least) needle, watching the clear liquid squirt like a fountain before he flicks and taps out the air bubbles. He lifts up the covers and pulls my already open jeans further down my hips, my face flaring red. I'm pretty sure he's impressed, hard to tell with my eye's squeezed shut like this … and that's after the ice. My eyes quickly fly open again as he starts prodding where he has no business prodding, embarrassment making me glare at him through the cramping. I'm hoping to scare him enough with my patented Winchester 'I'm gonna kick your ass' look, but he's not concentrating on my face. I suddenly feel violated.
I have a death grip on the side of the bed as the doctor slides the needle into the taught and sore muscle, biting my lip as I desperately try not to scream … macho rules preventing me from acting like a wuss in front of another man … Sammy doesn't count into that equation.
He plunges the injector and then … oh yeah … oh yeah … that's what I'm talking about … the relief is almost instantaneous, followed by a slight pins-n-needles sensation before the bliss of complete numbness. I let go of a breath I didn't even know I was holding as I sigh contentedly, all embarrassment disappearing as I grin at my new best friend. Yessir, just like I suspected, I have balls of steel, wasn't worried for a second. Feels practically good as new, I very gently pat the maimed area. Okay boys, I know that was unpleasant … and we'll be out of business for a few days, but I'll make it up to you, I promise.
I watch as the doctor snaps off his rubber gloves, thanking every deity I know that I didn't pull a muscle in my gluteus maxi.. um … whatyacallit.
"Well, that should do it … I'll go sort out your prescription and then you're good to go."
I sigh happily, "Thanks doc."
I re-adjust myself delicately into my jocks and jeans, pulling up my zip like a shield against any further manhandling. I'm finally starting to unwind, letting my muscles uncoil from the tension as I sag into the lumpy mattress with content. I even manage to smile when Sammy walks back in, his face wrinkled with worry lines.
"You okay?"
"Yeah … localized pain killer did the trick … feels a bit like your face does after a root canal, ya know? … my cojones feel huge."
I grin at him lopsidedly as he settles himself next to me, laptop under one arm, brown paper package under the other, his face smoothing as he relaxes a bit, chuckling.
"Thank god Dean … I know I've been teasing you, but seriously bro, you saved my life back there …"
My stomach flips at the thought of how close it was. If I hadn't caught hold of Sammy when I did, he could be lying here, much worse off then me.
"No problem kiddo … I'd say 'anytime' but that would be a lie."
He snorts and nods his head, then starts ruffling in the paper bag he brought in with him.
"Shopped for some goodies to keep you entertained while we wait for the doctor."
He pulls out and hands over a huge packet of peanut M&M's which I open and munch on with glee. God, I love this kid. Then he gives me a magazine.
"Cosmopolitan?"
I look at him like he's grown an extra head.
"This is a chick magazine, Sammy … where's the "Muscle Cars R Us"?"
"Sorry Dean, the pickings were slim ... it was that or 'Fit Pregnancy'."
I sigh dramatically while Sammy pretends to ignore me as he opens his laptop and leans back in his chair, propping his feet on my bed while his fingers instantly start flying over the keyboard. His face scrunches up in concentration, I know that look … I sigh dramatically again … he's in research mode, guess the conversation is over. I look at the magazine skeptically, reading the cover.
'100 ways to please you and your man in bed.'
Say what? Shit, now we're talking … I look over at Sammy, he's lost in cyberspace and my gaze returns to the cover in shock. Who knew they had magazines out there like this … why was I never told?
'20 new positions you've never tried before.'
It's like a freaking manual, I think I just found the holy grail? My heart rate speeds up. I feel like Columbus finding the new world, like a special agent cracking a top secret code … I quickly flip through the pages, each article a new and amazing insight into the mysteries of chicks and babes … do other men know about this? I look around as if hoping to find some confirmation, but the world still looks the same … shit, I wonder if I'm the first, I feel like a virgin … I snort at my own joke.
I settle back to read each new and informative article with reverence, making mental notes of things to add to my list of pick-up lines and extensive sexual resume. This thing is a goldmine. Need to find a good hiding place so Sammy doesn't get his paws on it … this information could be dangerous in the wrong hands.
"Sammy."
"Yeah."
"I'm reading an article over here," I ignore his amused grunt, "and according to this survey, men think about sex every 52 seconds."
My brow furrows as I try to work out the math, "That can't be right?"
Sammy briefly glances up from behind his screen.
"Yeah … their information is completely off … I mean I know for a fact that you think about sex at least every 30 seconds."
He chuckles … the bitch!
"Do not! I have some self restraint you know … okay, not really … but I can't help it if I'm a chick magnet."
Sammy snorts unconvinced as he returns to his frantic typing. I frown at him.
"What're you doin' over there anyway?"
"Making a shopping list."
I nod, should've guessed, but I'm not really paying too much attention as I try to figure out if there is any truth to these statistics, cause seriously, I don't think it is humanly possible … unless maybe you're a porn star. Surely we don't think about 'the ole heave ho' every 52 seconds? That would mean we'd have to think about having … you know … and … you know … with … you know … continuously …
The sordid and not entirely unpleasant images bombard my mind. Well I'll be a skunk ape's uncle. I wonder if anyone's ever put it to the test?
"… toothpaste … definitely need toothpaste …"
I look at Sammy distractedly as he mumbles to himself, rattling off things to add to his list … hope he gets the minty lemon stuff … works like a bomb for shiny white teeth, plus it keeps your breath fresh for hours, especially when you pick up a chick …
My eyebrows raise.
Crap! How long was that? I look at my watch, freakin hell …
"… and gun 'oil' …"
That's more like it, gun oil, manly dude stuff, lubricate the old … I look at my watch again … fuck …
"… beef 'jerky' …"
That one didn't count.
"… 'Energizer' batteries …"
Holy …
"… Biz 'double action' detergent …"
… shit!
"… 'pop tarts' …"
I sigh resignedly … Sammy's right … definitely every 30 seconds, maybe less … which, coming to think of it, only makes me more manly in my book. "Heh, heh, heh." I grin happily, wiggling my eyebrows for my own benefit as I lick the tip of my finger and flip the page, my eyes scanning the next article.
'Latest research: Females between the ages of 19 and 45 think about buying things once every 60 seconds.'
I look over at Sammy and his 'shopping list' and I instantly bark out a laugh. Sammy jerks, nearly toppling back with fright …'jerks' I said jerks! God I just crack myself up … 'crack' I said crack! I'm thinking about sex? Sammy's thinking about shopping? That sets me off again and I laugh uproariously as tears start pouring down my face, trying to catch my breath while carefully pressing the palm of my hand into the juncture near my groin, god … I hope I'm not tearing anything.
"Shit Dean … what the hell is wrong with you man?"
"Ow, crap … don't make me laugh Sammy …"
"I'm not trying to make you laugh you idiot … it's you who's trying to give me a freaking heart attack! What's gotten into you?" He looks at me suspiciously as tears blur my vision. "Probably too much sugar, I definitely need to stop buying you candy!"
I can't breathe … 'buying' … he wants to stop 'buying' me candy … snot is running from my nose as I try to roll over, clutching at my aching stomach muscles. I can't talk, it's taking all my energy just to pull air into my starving lungs between the screeches of laughter.
"God Dean … will you calm down dude … what's your problem?"
I'm torn between giving him the 'sacred book of knowledge' to show him the article or dying from hysterics … I decide to just point out the article to him by tapping my finger vigorously on the page as I try unsuccessfully to stop myself from getting a hernia.
He takes the magazine and reads … mouth opening and shutting in an attempt to find a suitable comeback line … swallowing in irritation instead … before giving me the patented Winchester 'I'm going to kick your ass' look.
The doctor comes back, looking at the both of us in confusion.
"What happened?"
Sammy rolls his eyes, his arms folded across his chest in agitation.
"Apparently you're witnessing the first case of someone actually dying of laughter."
His pissy face only makes me laugh harder, damnit, I think I need to pee.
The doctor just grins, shaking his head again before giving Sammy a bag full of medication which he signs for. He looks at me with amused concern, warning Sammy to make sure I don't pull something. I eventually calm down enough to wave Sammy over as I try to lift myself up. I'm going to wet myself. He ignores my hiccups and chuckles as I clutch my aching ribs, but still helps me to my feet. With his support I tentatively walk into the on-suite bathroom to make a much needed pit-stop. I few minutes later I shuffle out again, still snickering …
"Shopping? … that's just classic."
I chortle once more as I watch Giant Samantha grab our gear, shoving the magazine at my chest as he huffs in exasperation, before helping me limp back to the Impala.
"… every 60 seconds …"
"Shut up!"
I force down another outburst of hysterics … don't want to cause any permanent damage to my jewels.
"Ow, ow!"
Fin ;0)
Bad, bad Merisha ;0) hits self of twitchy hand