Tag to 6.18. A prompt for sistabro on the ohsam, Sam week fic meme.

A Sore Topic

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bobby growled as an exhausted looking Sam slowly limped into the kitchen. A hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage and toast sat on the table and Dean was already halfway through a heaping plateful of his own.

"Nothing," Sam mumbled; the denial in contrast to the grimace on his face as he gingerly sat down on the chair.

"Nothing, huh?" Dean shared a look with Bobby but neither said anything.

"So Dean here was just bringing me up to speed on your little jaunt in Rock Ridge," Bobby took a sip of his black coffee.

"It wasn't Rock Ridge," Sam started then heaved out a loud sigh. "Very funny, Bobby… I didn't know you were a Mel Brooks fan."

"Hey," Dean protested. "Blazing Saddles is a classic."

"Classic, my ass, but it's sure funnier than hell," Bobby chuckled. "'xcuse me, while I whip this out…"

"Great, if you guys are finished, I'd like to eat my breakfast in peace." Sam winced as he leaned forward to snag some toast.

"See what I have to put up with," Dean indicated Sam as he spoke to Bobby. "He has no appreciation for the finer things in life."

"Dean said you rode out to Colt's?" Bobby ignored Dean, his eyes laser focused on Sam. "How was that?"

"Told you already," Sam spoke around a mouthful of toast, he finished chewing and swallowed. "Not much else to say. I think you would have liked him though."

"No doubt," agreed the older man as Dean continued chuckling to himself, probably replaying that whole damn movie in his head. "But that's not what I'm asking. I rode a horse once."

Sam paled and dropped his fork. "It was okay," he rushed out just too quickly and Bobby gave him a knowing look.

"Uh huh."

"What?" Dean looked between the two men, realizing he was missing something.

"Is it only chafing or you got blisters yet?"

Sam looked mortified, his mouth dropped open. "Uh-"

"Good god, kid," Bobby glared at Sam. "It's nothing to be 'shamed of. You rode forty miles in two days. You're limping like you got a stick up your ass and you just about passed out when you sat down. Now I'll ask you again, is it only chafing or you got blisters yet?"

"Saddle sores?" Dean choked out with a hearty laugh. "Sammy got saddle sores?"

Sam turned beet red and shoved his chair back to stand, obviously on the verge of bolting. Bobby snagged his wrist in a tight grip even as he chastised Dean. "Shutup, you idiot, it won't be so funny if you end up having to lance boils on your brother's ass, Now, sit down, Sam, and answer the damn question – I need to know what to get you."

"Just chafing."

Sam spoke so quietly, Bobby had to lean in to hear. "Okay. That's good then. I got some cream you can use. It doesn't work? You get your ass," he glared at Dean to keep him quiet. "To town and have the doctor take a look. Last thing you want is to get an infection."

"Yes, sir," Sam mumbled, his eyes glued to something fascinating on Bobby's table.

"Good," Bobby nodded, satisfied. "Now finish your breakfast while I go get the stuff. One bow legged Winchester is about all this world can stand."

"Hey," Dean started to protest as Bobby stood but then he shrugged and stole a piece of sausage from his brother's plate. "I got nothing."

"Keep it that way," Bobby grumbled as he left the room and headed towards the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom. He couldn't help but grin through as he heard Dean's voice from the other room.

"Seriously dude, 150 year old saddle sores? Authentic!"

The End