Disclaimer: Don't own supernatural, though I wish I could borrow Jensen for just a little while.
Dean was having a bad day.
First the shitass poltergeist had screeched his ear drums off and then thrown a kitchen knife that, wouldn't you know it, went straight through the arm of his jacket. His Precious Leather Jacket. Sam didn't seem to understand that it wasn't the bloody shallow cut that he had received that was important; it was the fact that his jacket was damaged. How the hell was he going to fix it!
It had however got him mad enough to get rid of the bloody poltergeist for good. But thanks to the cut, which really wasn't deep thought Sam said that it needed stitches, he was unable to drive his baby. Which was just bloody craptastic.
As they were heading back to the hotel, they stopped to pick up some food and a bottle of whisky for Dean. He was defiantly going to need it when Sam sewed him back up as the cut just wouldn't stop bleeding. When Sam slid into the driver's seat and tossed him a carry out bag he was already fuming, it just took one look into the bag to set him off.
"What the hell is this? Salad, you got me salad!"
"Calm down Dean, there was nothing else available at this time of night. As you must have noticed, with your astute observation skills, we are in a one-horse town that does not come with 24/7 food service."
"Oh, come on man, they had salad but no cheese burger?"
"For you kind information I had to sweet-talk the dinner lady to give me even that."
"Sweet-talk my ass, you probably just flashed her those dimples of yours and she fell over herself to be at your service."
"So from when do you notice my dimples?" Sam said with a cheeky smile.
"Oh, just shut up. Bitch."
Dean sulked the rest of the way back to the motel. He was going to go back and hunt up a bar of chocolate and bag of chips. No matter how hungry he was, he was not going to reduce himself to eating like a bloody rabbit.
As the car pulled up to the motel, he opened the door and made to get out. But the minute he stood up the world did a sick roll and the ground was rushing up to meet him.
"Dean!" Sam shouted as he ran around the hood of the car and knelt down to were Dean was sprawled on the ground, face down. Sam gently rolled Dean over. "Are you alright, man. What the hell happened? Oh, god. Look at your arm. Why on earth did you not tell me that it was bleeding so badly?"
"Am, 'ine." Dean pushed Sam away and tried to stand up. But all he managed to do was to fall back on his ass.
"You're not fine. You stupid, jerk. You've lost too much blood. Damn'it, if you had just told me how bad your arm was we could have headed straight here." With a grunt Sam heaved Dean up and with an arm around his waist led him into the room. He carefully lowered Dean onto one of the beds. "How you feeling? Headache, nausea, dizziness?"
"Am fine, ok. Just did not realize I was so out of it when I got out of the car. Just sew the bloody thing up, will you."
"You're so stubborn. God! I'll bring the first aid kit, just drink the bloody whisky."
Dean rummaged through the paper bag and pulled out the bottle. He decided to drink it straight from the bottle. After all Sam wasn't going to want to share anyway. Sighing, he took the first swing. Ok, so he acted like a jerk. Damn he hated apologizing.
As Sam stomped back into the room with the first aid kit, Dean spoke up, "Sorry I was an ass."
Sam stopped in his track, "How much whisky have you drunk?"
"Shut up. Can't I even apologies? This day really sucks."
"Ok. Ok. Apology accepted. Don't go haring off." Placing the kit on the opposite bed, he said, "See if you can remove your shirt. I think your back is pretty banged up to. We'll treat that with the arm." As Dean struggled, Sam stepped forward, "Here let me help." He carefully removed Dean's shirt and the T-shirt under it.
Sam sat down next to Dean on the bed and carefully pressed the needle into flesh. He could see Dean's body jerk with pain and he flinched. "Keep your arm nearer to your chest and hold it steady. I don't want to hurt you."
"Wel' can't be help'd, now cn't it." Dean's head was swimming and he felt a nice buzz from the whiskey that was taking the edge of the pain.
Sam slid off the bed and knelt between Dean's knees, facing him. Dean jerked back. "What do you think your doing?"
"Will you stay still! This cut is at an awkward angle and I can't get to it sitting next to you. So shut up and let me stitch." Sam bent his head, intent on his task.
Dean tried to think of something else to take his mind of the pain. He looked down and saw that Sam's head was mighty close. Slowly moving forward he sniffed at Sammy's hair. It smelt of the free shampoo that the motel provided and a distinct smell that was all Sam. He waited for a second and realized that Sam had not noticed, he then bent his head and place a small kiss on the crown of Sam's head.
Without looking up, Sam said, "Dude, did you just kiss my head."
Dean jerked back, "What! No." His cheeks were flaming and he quickly lifted the bottle to take another swallow.
"Whatever you say." Sam stood up and looked at the suchers, "They look ok. Now it just needs a bandage." So saying he turned and rummaged through the first aid box.
God, what was he thinking? Kissing Sam's head. Thought if he was really going to do something he should be kissing Sam's lips. Dean shook his head. He had too much to drink, if those thoughts were surfacing again. He better get a hold of himself before Sam guessed what was on his mind. Shit this day would really go to hell then. Sam would probable clock him one good and then walk out. Even thinking about it made Dean grimace.
"Hey are you ok." Sam bent and looked into Dean's face. Slowly rapping the bandage around Dean's biceps he said in a concerned voice. "I know it's probably hurting like hell, but it's over."
"Jeez Sam, stop babying me."
"You really are a jerk sometime." Sam patted the bandage in place. He then climbed on to the bed and kneeling behind Dean, ran his fingers down Dean's back.
Jolting forward Dean yelped, "What!"
Sam huffed, "Will you be still. Why the hell are you so jittery today? I am just checking your back. That thing rammed you pretty hard against the wall. Nothing seems to be broken but you're pretty scratched up. Pass me the antiseptic cream will you."
Dean gingerly reached forward and picked up the cream and passed it to Sam.
Sam squeezed some onto his fingers and began to gently apply it on the wounds. His other hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder. Dean could feel every finger as it pressed against his skin. When his back had become so bloody sensitive he couldn't say. Then Sam's free hand slowly started trailing around the unbroken skin around his wounds. He could feel the burn when the antiseptic was applied and then the soothing touch around the sensitive unbroken skin. Dean bit his lips to keep from groaning and melting into Sam's touch.
"Hope it doesn't hurt too much." Sam said in a soothing voice as he continued to treat Dean's wounds.
Dean could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat. He bit down to stop it. This was like a twisted version of all the dreams he had in the darkest part of the night. Where he would creep into Sam's bed and start loving him like he had wanted to over the past six years and Sam would run his hands up and down Dean's back as he wreathed beneath him.
"All done." So saying Sam climbed off the bed and crossed the room towards the bathroom. "Why don't you take off you jeans and get into bed. You must be exhausted. Don't take any painkillers with all that alcohol." He walked into the bathroom and shut the door.
Dean scrambled up and kicked off his jeans and dashed under the covers before Sam could come back and notice the very evident effect his touch had had on him. God, he hoped and prayed that Sam hadn't noticed. He usually kept his mind away from such thoughts when Sam was near so that he wouldn't give away the fact that he was such a bloody freak. In love with his own brother, yea that was one for the books. This had been one miserable day.
Even as his mind raced, exhaustion slowly dragged him down and his eyelids fell shut. He dreamt that Sammy came up to his bed and tucked the covers around him. Then he felt Sam's lips brush over his in a whisper of a kiss and Sam softly said, "Sweet dreams, Dean."
Dean felt his lips curve into a smile. Well even if the day had been horrible, his dreams were real sweet. For just a few more dreams like this he wouldn't mind having bad days.
Authors Note: First attempt at Wincest or any supernatural story, so be gentle. So what did you'll think? Do you'll want more? Let me know. Please.