Olivia knew the shortest way back to the house and without having to follow the wandering trail of Sam they were back home within twenty minutes, Sam able to carry Dean the distance slung over his shoulder. His dead weight took a toll and Sam's ankle protested its heavy burden but Sam didn't complain or stop. He recognized the urgency to reach warmth and shelter and every minute counted. 'Skin cool to the touch DID NOT by any means mean, 'Frozen and Blue'. He was just grateful Livy led the way.
"Leave him on the floor." Olivia ordered as they crashed through the back door. She didn't care about mud being tracked in this time. Sam gratefully eased Dean off his shoulder and dumped him in a heap on the floor. He started to kneel beside him but Olivia shoved him away with enough force to knock him on his ass. He gave her a wounded look, rolled to his knees and reached out again to Dean.
"No." she slapped his hand down. Sam needed to let her see to Dean while he took care of himself. "Leave him." she said sternly, countering every move he made to touch Dean. "Sam….stop."
"He needs to get outta those clothes…" Sam stammered, teeth chattering from cold or fear or shock or maybe it was anger at the effort she made to avoid allowing him to reach his brother. "Let me….he's gotta…."
"So do you." she grabbed Sam's hands and held them in hers. "Sam, stop!"
"Soon as he is, I'll go change…"
"No, Sam, you listen to me, you don't get to argue about this, do you hear me? Hey?" she gave his hands a dip and a shake. "Look at me Sam, AT ME, not him." she blocked his view. " I need you to get a hot shower and dress in warm clothes. I will get him undressed and dried off….Sam, hey listen to me." she actually slapped him across the face hard enough to sting. "I need you warm and dry, ok? Do you understand me? He needs all the warmth he can get and blankets aren't enough, he needs body heat and you've got the most to give."
"What? How? I don't…." he wasn't following her, tilting his head to the side to look around her to see Dean. "No."
"He was already weak Sam, this could be a serious setback. You're going to need to let him draw heat from you." Sam simply stared at her and she gave his hands yet another forceful shake. "Can you do that? Tell me now if you can't, his only other option is me, but Sam….it would be better for him if it were you."
"No, no, ok, okay, yeah, sure, ok, hot shower." he seemed to snap out of his daze as Dean began to stir. Olivia let go of Sam to pull on Dean's boots and Sam left for his shower.
Dean roused enough that he managed to give her some help in getting out of his clothes. His teeth were chattering, his lips were blue and his hands were icy…. she frowned, picking up his right hand and cursing when she saw the blue-tinged to his fingernails. "Not good." she muttered. "Oh so not good."
"I'm.. co.. co…cold." he stuttered shivering. "Ca…. can, I ha…have…a…blank….ket?"
"Oh sweetie, I'm gonna do better than that." she promised. She helped him dry off with a towel and rubbed him briskly with a blanket. When Sam came in dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and flannel pants, Dean was sitting up, hugging the blanket around his shoulders. He didn't protest when Sam manhandled him into the clothes he'd brought with him but he didn't help either. Sam bit his lip to keep from commenting how cold Dean was to touch and to stop from ordering him to stop shivering.
"Couch." Olivia said. "No sense trying to manage the stairs and the sofa's better any way, the more confining the space, the closer to you he has to be."
"I need to mix the ingredients and….."
"I'll do that….I'll set the timer for twenty-hour hours after it's mixed."
Sam hauled Dean to his feet. It took all his strength to do it and he was grateful Olivia was there to give Dean support as well. Shaking from the strain of supporting Dean's weight, his shoulder not having had time to recover from carrying him earlier, they made it to the sofa where Sam obeyed Olivia's order to sit in the corner, one leg on the floor, his bad leg along the back of the couch.
"Ready?" she asked Sam who held his arms out in answer, ready to take the burden of his brother's weight once again. She let Dean fall on the sofa into Sam's outstretched arms. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and hugged him, pulling him into his embrace. She swung Dean's legs up on the sofa and tucked the afghan over them both. Dean tensed and tried to twist free, struggling to sit up but Sam refused to let him go. He held tight as Olivia gently pushed Dean down and back against Sam's chest.
"Stop it." Sam murmured in Dean's ear as Dean continued to wiggle in protest. His back was firmly against Sam's belly, held tight by Sam's bear hug and no amount of squirming gained him his freedom. He wasn't strong enough to break free but it didn't stop him from trying. Sam ignored the nagging voice busting his balls that the best way to warm another person was skin to skin. He wasn't ready to go there…..yet, not unless he had to – absolutely had to. If it came to that…..well, he'd do anything. "Dean, hey….enough, just be still."
"Comfy?" Olivia asked Sam. "I'll get ice for your ankle."
"Would be if he'd lay still." Sam winced as Dean's elbow dug into his side. "Dude, cut it out!"
"Not too fond of being touched, is he?"
"Or hugged, or held." Sam bit his lip, still having to exert an effort to hold Dean still. He winced and grimaced at Dean's continued wiggling. "Shit." he shifted one way, easing Dean the other. "Ok, better. Damn he's cold."
"He'll soon start to feel your warmth and he'll seek it." Olivia dropped a blanket around Sam's shoulders. "I'll make you some coffee, drink a cup straight, then you can add your poison of choice. He's gonna draw most of your body heat and leave you feeling cold, anything hot you drink will help."
"Vodka." Sam said. "Thanks."
Once Dean began to feel the warmth radiating from Sam's body, he ceased his wiggling and gradually relaxed into the comforting embrace that held him close. At first, Sam failed to notice Dean's acceptance of his position, still holding tight, but as he became aware that Dean was no longer fighting him, he loosened his arms and waited to see if Dean would actually be content to remain where he was without being held there. Dean let his head fall to Sam's shoulder, face turned towards his neck, breathing with shallow pants.
"Jesus Dean." Sam sighed, laying his head against the back of the sofa. "Don't you ever scare me like that again." he felt for Dean's hands under the blankets, still ice cold and numb to Sam's digging nails. "I can't keep doing this."
"How's he doing?" Olivia lifted Sam's foot onto a pillow, spread a towel and settled an ice bag on his ankle. "You comfy yet?"
"Long as he is." he sighed.
"Got a free hand?"
"For coffee? Always."
"He's still cold to touch, still shaking, but his lips are no longer blue." she dug one of Dean's hands free. "Neither are his nails, how about you? Feel warm?"
"I'm ok." he insisted. "Just keep the coffee coming."
"Vodka with the next mug." she promised. She waited an hour then tried to tempt Dean into drinking something hot. Her efforts were for naught as he refused everything she offered. Coffee, tea, hot chocolate, plain beef broth, plain chicken broth and warm milk all met with sealed lips and he turned away if she persisted.
"Warm some brandy." Sam's sleepy voice interrupted her brooding. He'd dozed through her numerous attempts of bribery, paying her little attention. "Hot toddy, you know? Hot tea, some sugar, warm brandy, the water you make the tea with will cut it, lemon if you have it, milk if you don't."
"He'll drink it though? I go to all that trouble to make it?"
"Mostly brandy, and it's not all that much trouble."
"I know. I just want to see him drink something hot. It would make me feel better, if not him, you know?" she got to her feet. "I'll give it a try, any specific measurements?"
"No, touch of lemon or milk, spoonful of sugar." Dean had shifted while Sam slept, now sprawled comfortably all but on top of Sam. "Least one of us is comfortable." Sam muttered. He squirmed, shifting more of Dean's weight to the sofa, reaching over his slumbering sibling to snag the afghan and tuck it around him.
Olivia returned with three mugs. "Made you one, actually tastes pretty good, so made myself one." she waited until Sam had dug a hand free, sitting up as much as he could without disturbing Dean then handed him his mug. "Dean, hey sweetie, got something for you."
"Nuh-uh." he turned his face towards the back of the couch.
"You sure? Sam made it." she coaxed. "Come on, give it a try."
Dean blew his breath out. He was finally beginning to feel warm and his chattering teeth no longer made his jaw ache. He wanted to be left alone, not forced to acknowledge just exactly where he was…..um, laying. To do that meant he would have to move and he wasn't ready to do that. The voice kept talking, and yet another glass against his lips, hands held his, played with his fingers. He to take a sip, one sip, just part his lips and take one small sip.
"Dean?" a different voice, a voice he knew well. A voice he always wanted to hear, a voice he trusted, a voice he depended on every day of his life. A voice he knew he should obey and obey without question. "You gotta drink this." the masculine voice was soft, somewhat soothing and Dean's lips parted, taking the glass between his teeth and tasting the liquid the glass offered. He licked his lips, favoring the warm rich taste of throat-burning brandy, the harsh bite of alcohol muted by sugar and milk. He roused slightly, only enough to lift his head and rest it in the crook of Sam's elbow so he could drink from the mug Sam held. After a couple of seconds, he took the mug in his own hands. Sam let him have it so he could drink his own toddy but ended up keeping a supporting hand on the bottom of Dean's mug.
Olivia refilled Sam's mug. "Vodka and brandy?"
"I'm gonna ask for some ibuprofen next." Sam gave her a lopsided grin.
"Oh, that's wise." she shook her head. "He actually drinking any or is he just playing?"
Sam peered into Dean's mug, giving his brother a fond but exasperated look. "About half."
"You want something to eat? Beef stew?"
"Kinda only got one hand free."
"Oh right, well." she thought about it. "Tomato soup with grilled cheese? You can dip the sandwich and drink the soup, I'd rather you have something hot."
"Sure, sounds good. Another refill and those Motrin's?"
Olivia hesitated. He'd already had two mugs of coffee laced with vodka and two toddies with brandy. Oh, what the hell, where was he going? And he was willing to eat so it wasn't like he was drinking and taking ibuprofen on an empty stomach. She snorted. Yup, Livy, way to make excuses for him.
"Sure, you doing okay?"
He gave her question some thought. He was comfortable even if Dean was heavy and laying awkwardly in his lap. His ankle barely throbbed, of course that could be because his whole leg was numb from Dean's weight. His shoulder muscles had ceased complaining and while he wasn't exactly warm, he wasn't cold. He worried but wasn't scared. He had the blood needed to make the antidote and soon they'd be able to leave for the hospital.
Okay, he'd rather not have Dean's elbow digging into his thigh, but then he thought about how close he had come to seeing his brother seriously injured and had to fight the urge to hug him. It had been close - too close - the muze making off with him, the fall down the bank, landing face-down in the stream and Sam knew no amount of discomfort or pain mattered. He gave Dean a quick hug, relaxing his hold before Dean could protest.
"Yeah." not up to reassuring her, he hoped she'd accept his word and leave him be. She nodded and went off to the kitchen. Sam took the mug from Dean's limp hands and looked down to see that his eyes were closed.
"Dean, you awake?"
Dean didn't answer, he didn't want to. He was tired and cold and by God but he didn't feel good. His hip and belly were demanding attention, his throat was pissed off over the brandy, his head ached, his back twitched, his neck was stiff and he couldn't stop shaking from sporadic muscle spasms. He knew all this but refused to acknowledge it. He could bury anything, force it to the back of his mind and keep it hidden as long as he was allowed to. Only one person was capable of making him face reality and he prayed that he wouldn't be asked to wake up.
Sam let him be, falling asleep himself after eating the soup and sandwich and swallowing four ibuprofen with the last of his third toddy. As long as Dean was quiet, Sam could sleep. Olivia checked on Dean every forty-five minutes, giving him water or hot tea with just a hint or brandy when he would take it. He tolerated her touch when she felt for a fever, pulling away when she ran her hands behind his ears and along his throat.
"Livy?" Dean whispered as he felt her hands tickle along his neck.
"Sorry, just relax."
"Cold." he frowned, squirming. "Don't"
"What's cold? My hands? Sorry." she pulled them back, not wanting him to become restless and wake Sam. Swollen glands weren't much of a big deal, would just make Dean more miserable, cause him more discomfort, stress Sam out a little more. Swollen glands, if anything, meant strep throat and with Dean's throat already so sore, strep throat wasn't much of a surprise. They at least had antibiotics and if they could get him to swallow them and if he were able to keep them down, they would help fight the strep.
"He ok?" Sam asked quietly, he'd heard Dean and god how he hated hearing him say that one word.
"Swollen glands, my guess is strep."
Sam let his head fall against the couch with a thud. What else could be thrown at him?
Dean, having been disturbed by Livy, chose that moment to decide he'd had enough of being poked and prodded and felt up with cold hands and squirmed until he could curl into a huddled ball. Sam looked down at him in surprise.
"Hey!" Sam's hands went under Dean's arms and he hauled him back up. Dean resisted the move, letting his body go slack and become a dead weight. "Dean, cut it out!" Sam reached for his hands, causing Dean to throw his head back, unintentionally cracking Sam's jaw. "Dammit." Sam's lip split and he licked at blood. "What the hell's the matter with you? Hey, stop it! Come on man!" he shot Olivia a surprised look, not sure why Dean was fighting him. He jerked his head back before Dean could crack him a second time. "OK! That Is Enough!" he managed to hold Dean tight in a hug and force his restless movements to still. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
Dean had had enough of being held and being held still. He squirmed his way out of Sam's arms and threw himself sideways against the back of the sofa. Sam let him go, grateful for the chance to stand and stretch. Dean was facing the back of the couch, and Olivia tossed the afghan over his legs.
"You going to bed?" she asked Sam.
"No, I'll stay up and watch him, go get some sleep."
"Night, call me if you need anything."
Dean spent the remainder of the night on the couch. Maybe he'd been a tad hasty freeing himself from Sam, 'cause dammit he was freezing and couldn't get warm. Just once, he would like to be like any normal person when confronted with a common situation. If he was sick, he should be allowed to whine and pout and fuss, what made him sick shouldn't matter.
Swollen glands were no big deal to him and certainly nothing to cause such a fuss. They didn't hurt, they didn't bother him and they shouldn't matter but Olivia didn't like it, so Sam refused to leave him alone. He was up and around, standing beside or in front or behind the couch, in and out of the room, back and forth across the floor, head popping into view whenever Dean stirred or groaned or otherwise did anything to alert Sam he was awake and trying to move.
Bruised, stiff and sore from both his earlier ass-kicking followed by his wrestling match and fall down the hill, he was forced to accept Sam's help to get up from the sofa and walk to the bathroom. It took an argument, threat of future violence, pleading and bargaining to convince Sam to leave him there alone. Dean reached for his toothbrush with a shaky hand.
Sam may have finally left and allowed Dean to close the door, but Dean had a damn good idea, were he to suddenly open it, Sam would fall through it. He eyed the shower then put the thought from his mind. All he needed was to pass out and he'd never be able to pry Sam from his side. Finally finished, he opened the door and walked into a wall of plaid flannel. His arms pin-wheeled as he rocked back on his heels and didn't fight the arm that came around his shoulders.
"Thought so." he muttered, the fabric soft against his cheek.
"What?" Sam led him back to the sofa where he doubled up on his side, unwilling to move, not even Sam was able to rouse him. "You good?"
"Piss blood?" silence was his answer. What worried Sam now was the possibility Dean needed help that he couldn't give him, help that required a hospital. He could blame Dean for not admitting how bad it was and he did, but he had to accept some of the blame himself. He'd ignored Dean and taken him at his word that he was all right even when he himself knew about a muze's bite and its symptoms. And that didn't included the ass-kicking he'd received twice from the damned thing.
Olivia, observing the brothers from the kitchen doorway, saw the silent conversation between them. The questioning look Dean gave Sam; the shake of Sam's head in response; Dean lower his eyes and panting heavily, turn over to hide his face in the back of the couch; Sam blink at tears and hide his face in his hands.
There wasn't anything Livy could think of Sam wouldn't do for Dean, but after the reaction Dean threw to the antibiotics, giving him pain killers was first on the list.
She knew as well as Sam did that Dean was worse than he admitted. Knew he was in pain and suffering from headaches and muscle spasms. There was still discomfort caused by internal swelling that he couldn't deny or completely hide. Red-webbed, swollen eyes were the dead giveaway. God only knew what havoc the bite was wreaking on him.
"Here, try this." she handed Sam a bowl. "Maybe he'll eat."
"I'm not deaf you know." Dean muffed out from where his head nestled under the pillow. "Can still hear just fine."
"Can't stand or walk or pee or swallow or eat, but you can hear just fine." Sam scowled.
"Didn't I just eat?"
"You cried at the suggestion Dean."
"Yeah, well, hurt." he muttered. "I've been lucid you know, Sam if you want to go, we'll go. Livy can bring it to the hospital."
"I know." Sam agreed. "Just gotta…...I dunno."
"I can manage." he emerged from the depths of pillows, green eyes while alert, were dull. "Can lay down in the backseat if I feel sick."
"Sure." Sam dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Nothing at all for me to worry about rolling on down the highway, afraid to hit the brakes for fear of knocking you off the seat."
"See if you can eat and keep this down." Olivia waved a hand at the bowl Sam held.
Dean didn't want it, didn't want anything, he didn't want to look in the bowl or know what was in it. He wanted to curl up and hug a pillow, face the couch and let his body submit to whatever symptom/weakness claimed him first. Sam looked ready to cry, biting on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering, his jaw clenched, causing the vein in his neck to strain and pulse. Dean knew those signs all too well; Sam was losing his grip, his control and within minutes, would be outside whacking at a tree with an axe.
"Oye." he held his hand out for the bowl. He had no idea why they were so insistent he eat, it wasn't like he was about to starve to death anytime soon. But it was obvious that it was important to Sam that he ate, so he'd eat. In his mind, it was more important to drink, he favored the hot toddy, but whether it was plain hot tea or water or juice or some god awful sports drink, he drank whatever was offered. The bowl was warm in his hand and he raised watery eyes to Olivia.
"Pudding." she explained.
"It can be made you know; just need to boil some milk, chocolate is all I have."
Dean steeled his nerves and lifted the spoon, aware of Sam watching his every move. It hurt to swallow, but there was no salt in the pudding, nothing to chew, no onion, nothing to irritate a raw throat and it was surprisingly easy to swallow and actually felt good sliding down his throat in a rush of warmth. He still wasn't hungry but at least he found something he could manage to eat.
The day passed in a blur. Every time Sam entered the room a new symptom had hit. By the hour, Dean got worse. He tried to eat, anything to take that look off Sam's face but swallowing hurt, the effort to do so produced tears and he managed to choke down only a bite or two. His headache was back and remained, his verbal request for aspirin denied.
He needed help to gain his feet, walking made him wince, turning his head made his breath hitch and his hip sent pulses of pain through his belly; the pain didn't let up, it didn't relent, and it didn't stop. He so much as brushed his hip against the couch cushion, and he attempted to heave his toes out of his mouth until he lost the ability to control the relentless retching and passed out.
The book warned of violent, unrelenting vomiting and extreme hyperventilation that could last until consumption of the antidote and all poison expelled from the body and it hit him hard. When he spit up blood, he found himself on the bathroom floor with no memory of walking there, Sam holding him on his knees with his head hanging over the toilet.
He had no idea of the passage of time, but apparently, enough time had passed without him being sick to satisfy Sam for he was hauled off the floor and when he resisted, lifted off his feet. He was expecting the soft comfort of the sofa so the cold feeling of the porcelain tub made him squawk his displeasure and he balked.
The words 'don't', 'stop,' 'please,' were spoken but he didn't know by whom, cudda been him. He knew when the curtain was pulled and warm water soaked his head. He was aware he was held up against a wet wall and stripped of his shirt; obviously he was in the shower and he wasn't alone.
It was the end of his silent suffering and well-kept control.
He was cold and he shivered and begged to get out and be given a blanket. Finally dry, if not warm, and horizontal on the sofa, he repeatedly asked for aspirin or Tylenol, pain meds, anything to relieve the pounding in his head and cramping in his belly, finally falling silent when he realized - again - his request would not be granted.
He supposed more time passed. He was too awash in misery to take note. Movement? Moving sent a bruise or sore spot or tender muscle or abraded skin into fits. Sleep? Every time he managed to close his eyes, Sam was shaking him, stopping only when Dean made eye contact. Breathing? Short, shallow pants…only. No swallowing, no licking of lips, no scratching roof of mouth with tongue for that created saliva and it was either drool or swallow and swallowing made him cough and to stop coughing he had to sit up and to sit up meant movement and moving…well, Christ…
When Sam finally broke down and offered him liquid Tylenol, he coughed up spit and blood and mucus and phlegm and bile and all Sam could do was sit on the coffee table in front of him, massage his neck, and catch him when he pitched forward off the sofa.
"Sam." she laid a hand on his shoulder, able to feel his every emotion. Anger, frustration, fear, helplessness. "Look, he's quiet, go take a nap. I'll watch him." after the day Dean had just had, both were reluctant to subject him to anything that would make it worse. "An hour Sam." she pushed when he hesitated. "You…aah might want to change….."
"How much longer?" he gazed without conscious thought at his soiled shirt sleeve.
"Let's see…we got back last night around two…..I mixed the antidote and put it in the fridge at three-o-seven. The book was very insistent that it chill for exactly twenty-four hours, so I set a timer. Then we have to bring it to a rolling boil which could take up to twelve hours. Once you give it to him….and he…um…well, after that….you can leave for the ER."
Dean was on the couch; Sam stood in front of him, mug of muze blood mixed with specific herbs in his hand. It smelled so bad; he couldn't hold the mug near his nose. He was pale, his hand shaky as he contemplated what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and went to his knees next to the sofa.
"Hey, Dean." he grabbed hold of Dean's chin with his left hand and held his head still. The firm grip felt with no warning brought Dean awake and he jerked violently in an attempt to pull free. "No." Sam gave Dean's head a slight shake to catch his full attention. "Look at me, you with me? You have to drink this. It's not an option, okay? Not just a sip, all of it." he waited for Dean to nod then put the glass to his mouth, hoping Dean wouldn't notice the smell until after he started to drink.
"Ugh." Dean pulled back, face twisted into a scowl of disgust. "No."
"I'll just hold you down and make you drink it."
"It's the antidote Dean, you don't get a choice….come on."
A part of Dean knew he should be reasonable, knew he should willingly drink what was being forced on him, but the part of him that was tired of being in pain had control and he in no way wanted to be forced into accepting or doing anything more.
Sam didn't exactly have a full-fledged fight on his hands but prepared for the reaction he was sure he was going to get. Dean had always been difficult when forced with a situation he didn't like so when Olivia swept the mug from Sam's hand, Sam easily pinned Dean's hands together by his wrists and forced them down over his head. Had Dean had his full strength, his coordination and the ability to think coherently, he might've been able to fight Sam and gain his freedom.
When Dean ceased to struggle, Sam sided with caution and lodged his right knee lodged against Dean's breast bone, buried his toes buried in the couch, and sat back, his ass pressing into the top of Deans' thighs, effectively rendering him all but motionless.
"Looks like you've done this before." Olivia commented.
"It's never been this easy, I didn't realize how weak he'd gotten." he took the glass. "Can you hold his hands? He might fight you at first, but once I grab hold of his jaw he's gonna forget all about you. Ready?" while Dean was physically weak, his jaw was still stronger than Sam's fingers and Sam nearly got bit.
"Cut it out Dean." the way Sam held his head made it difficult for Dean to spit but he gagged and choked as he attempted to swallow the most vile thing he'd ever tasted in his life. Sam tuned out the soft whimpers and coughs and ignored his brother's reluctance to drink. He would cry about it later while in the shower or alone in his room; right now he needed to remain unaffected, hard though it was and see this through. The silent tears made him pause, god, how much could swallowing the antidote hurt?
"Sam?" Olivia called softly.
"I'm good." he wiped the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand. "Done."
"No, he spit some out is all." he wiped the blood from Dean's mouth with his own sleeve. "Guess we can go."
"Don't you want to shower first?"
"I can wait."
Dean can't went left unsaid.
*** Present ***
"So, you let them treat him for an illness he didn't have..…." Bobby shook his head. "There was no infected wound."
"I didn't want them to treat him at all." Sam said defensively. "Had he not still been pissing blood, I never wudda taken him in, the antibiotics we have wudda taken care of the strep. He wudda been able to take them once the muze's poison was out of him. I did what I had to do, what I always do, what I always will."
"He shouldn't always be in these life and death situations." Lisa spoke up.
"We're not going through that again Lisa." Sam sighed. "Just lay off already." he was still rattled over their abrupt departure from the hospital, still thinking maybe it had been too soon for Dean to have left.
Dean came into the kitchen, refreshed after his nap. "Hey." he headed for the fridge, wanting a beer and being given a bottle of cranberry juice instead. He wrinkled his nose at Olivia in disgust.
"You just got done choking on vodka, you ass." Sam dared him to argue. Dean called him off with just a look. That was something else between the brothers Lisa couldn't stand. They could call one another to their side, control the others actions, with just a look.
"So, what's the plan? Dean asked. "Leave for Bobby's in the morning?"
"Friday." Sam decided. "I need a day or two to sleep and let someone else amuse your ass."
"It's what, a four or six-hour drive? I can handle that." Dean shrugged. "Will drive if you want me to." he offered with a cheeky grin.
"What, is it so bad here, you can't spend another day or two? I know the memories here aren't all good, but Dean, you gotta give here, think of Sam for a change." Olivia scolded.
He choked on his juice. For a change? Hell, all he did was think of Sam and put his needs first.
"Yeah, well, ok, I guess. But I'm done with the hand-holding and hugging."
"OH!" Olivia perked up. "I have pictures, did I mention I took pictures?" her look was positively gleeful and she childishly clapped her hands together.
"You what?" Dean's look was deadly. "SAM!"
"Hey, you were heavy, I was asleep." he shrugged, trying and failing to hide a grin.
"You knew she took pictures? You let her?!"
"I've gotta see these pictures. You actually have pictures of Sam holding Dean?" Bobby said.
"Mmm-hmm, Dean's a snuggler. Now, you do need to remember, he was half-frozen and practically unconscious and deathly ill, but…."
"I've got nowhere to go." Castiel cut in. "Show me these pictures."
"IF YOU DARE show those…" Dean set the bottle aside and started after Olivia. "Livy!" he warned when she danced away, laughing at him.
"And Dean allowed it? Lay in Sam's lap?" Bobby was doubtful. Livy shot Bobby a look that would have killed him if that old wives tale held any truth. "Shit, you're serious." Bobby said in awe. "I mean, willingly? Really? Gimme a beer and set up the slide show"
"They will never leave this room." she promised Dean with a wink. "I promise." she retrieved her laptop and booted up.
Dean glared at Sam who gave up trying to hold a straight face and burst out laughing. "Sorry dude!"
"Oh trust me, you will be." Dean vowed.
*** END ***