I was going to try to avoid making reference to the boys' testicles for as long as possible, but hell. Might as well get it out of the way.

This isn't intended to be slash, but if you really wanted I suppose you could make a good case for it.

Also, I'd like to shamelessly self-promote real quick. My LJ is finally in some semblance of order—username: wave-obscura. Stop by, friend me, take my silly poll, lurk, whatevs :D

And FEEL BETTER, PlatinumRoseLady! Sam's not exactly sick in this one, but, um… sort of?

Sam's curled up tight like a fetus, hissing low in the mud.

"Breathe, buddy," Dean whispers.

"I am, don't touch, fucking witches, oh holy JESUS. "

"She didn't hit you that hard. Just breathe."

"Shut up. Get off me."

"Here, let me check for swelling." Dean's hand disappears between his brother's legs, palm hugging the worn fabric of Sam's jeans.

"DUDE!" Sam flinches, yelps, jerks away. "You did not just cradle my balls."

Dean smirks. "No permanent damage."

Sam puffs up with rage but… the pain's fading.

"Thanks for the distraction… I guess."

Dean shrugs. "Whatever kick starts the healing."