Title: Out of Sync or RoboSam
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Not even all of these words belong to me. I have been pilfering them off of sidjack all evening.
Spoiler Warnings: Spoilers for Season 6!Sam.
A/N: So, it had to be done, really. Robo!Sam tending to hurt!Dean. Considering Steady!Sam rocks my socks on a regular basis, I had to play with Steady-To-The-Extreme!Sam. And, I may not be done. After talking with sidjack, there is just so much more to explore. For the time being, we have both put forth a h/c scene that involves hurt!Dean and a rather emotionally lacking Sam. Just to see if we could float the h without the c. And, if you check out sidjack's story, you may see a reoccurring theme or two. Really, it's her fault for letting me read her story before writing my own... that's a legit excuse for plagiarism, right? Thanks for letting me hoard in on some of your imagery, sidjack, and thanks for the beta!
As a team they kind of suck right now.
Dean gets that. And it's probably mostly his fault, but he doesn't trust Sam and stupidly divides his attention between the prey and his brother. Not a good strategy in their line of work. When the dryad strikes, Dean's not ready and takes a slash along his ribs. He grunts, hits his knees, and then woozily watches as Sam mechanically destroys the beast.
Dean keeps pressure on his side while Sam burns the creature in the fading light. Sam leans carelessly close to the pungent fire, using the flames to sterilize his blade.
Seemingly satisfied, Sam shrugs out of his jacket revealing a cut along his lower arm. He impassively wraps a handkerchief around his wound and then turns to Dean and wraps his jacket around Dean's torso, pulling it unnecessarily tight.
Back at the hotel room, Sam makes quick work of his forearm, appears nonplussed at the blood dripping off his fingertips.
When he turns his flat eyes on Dean, Dean's feels himself reflexively retreat.
Dean gets a hand up to stymie Sam's approach.
"Let me see."
Dean swallows, heart racing. "It's fine."
"Dean, blood's seeping through your shirt." Sam voice is curt, no trace of his cajoling little brother.
Dean unsteadily lifts his arm away from his body to check, grimacing at the pull along his ribs. He can see blood permeating the jacket.
To Sam's credit, he's gentle as he loosens the knot and pulls the material away. He waits while Dean peels his shirt off. Once bare, Sam grabs his bicep and pulls his arm out of the way to get a look at Dean's side. Sam's sigh isn't comforting.
"Doesn't look like it goes to bone, but it'll need stitches. You want me to do it?"
Not really. Dean angles himself awkwardly to try to see the slash around his torso. He thinks hard. "I don't think I can reach."
A practical, flat "Lay down, Dean," and he's on his left side facing the wall.
Stretched on his side, Dean feels vulnerable. As Sam's fingers alight on his rib cage, he flinches, fists seeking purchase in the threadbare covers.
"Hold still, Dean."
He flinches again when Sam pours warm water over the wound, breath hitching.
"It's just water. I need to flush it out before I stitch it." Dean aims his gaze down his side and watches as Sam pulls apart the edges of the wound, flushing it deeper. Sam's face is a mask of professional apathy. Nausea washes over Dean and he turns his face into the pillow, stomach muscles twitching.
"Are you going to be sick?"
Dean roughly shakes his head. Then swallows sickly as he feels Sam's fingers probing the wound. "Dude, stop."
He can hear the irritation in Sam's voice, "I need to see how deep it is. "
"Well, your seeing hurts." Dean's voice is practically gone. He clears his throat.
Sam awkwardly pats Dean's shoulder. When Dean looks up, Sam's expression is twisted into a facsimile of brotherly concern. It makes him feel worse.
"Forget it, just do it."
Sam huffs and sits back. He reaches for the antiseptic and Dean turns his face back into the pillow. "Do you want me to numb it?"
Dean shrugs, "Do whatever you want, Sam."
Seconds later, the cool rush of antiseptic flushes over his side, followed by the acidic burn of the disinfectant. Dean jolts as the fire blazes, reflexively pulling away from the bite.
"Dean, stay still." Sam's cavalier attitude stings more than the wound. He bites the pillow. Hard. Blinks against tears. Lets Sam pull him back across the mattress. Sam's hand stays on his hip, almost tight enough to bruise. Dean fights against pulling away.
The jab of the needle is almost lost in the residual sting. Dean steels himself for the sutures but they don't come and Sam's hand doesn't relax. He finally grates out, "Sam?"
"Hold on. I numbed it. It'll feel better in a second." The hand around his hips squeezes tighter. It feels almost like a clumsy attempt to ground him.
Dean searches Sam's eyes while they wait. Keeps looking for his brother.