Sam is hiding that he's injured or more injured than Dean thinks or that he's sick from Dean 'cause he thinks that Dean has enough to 'deal with' already, love it to be canon
Skin, The Benders, Devils Trap, any of the episodes from early Season 2, pretty much any episode in Season 5, Let it Bleed, Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie and sooooo many more episodes where this could happen
Dean gets all guilty when he finds Sam treating himself and mother-hens Sam back to health
Gen or Slash
This takes place after The Real Ghostbusters, but the injury was sustained in Changing Channels.
Sam shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat and sighed. The pain had been intermittent since the for the first few really bad days after his experience in Gabriel's version of a game show. But now, after fighting off a ghost and digging up a few graves, a stead throb ran from between his legs into his lower right abdomen.
Dean's voice interrupted the cataloging of possible injuries that could cause the pain. "Fine. Just a little sore."
"We'll grab a bite and a room in a few, you make it?"
"Sounds good." He studied his brother for a moment. "What's up with you?"
"What?" Dean's eyes went back to the road and stayed there.
"You actually almost smiled. Haven't seen you do that in a while."
"Fuck you." But now the older Winchester really was smiling. "Just doing some thinking, Sammy."
The nickname calmed Sam, letting him know he wasn't about to piss his brother off. "'bout what?"
"Those guys that helped-"
"And by helped you mean saved our asses."
"Yeah, gotta give 'em credit for that. But they really WANTED to be us, you know?"
"I don't know about any of that, Dude. Most of the people there wanted to be us, damned if I could figure out why."
"They repair copiers, Sam. All day long that's all they do."
"Okay, that sucks. Chuck's version of our lives would look better than that." Sam shifted again, trying to alleviate the pain.
"Real thing has its moments." Shrugging, Dean smacked his brother's shoulder. "For Christ's sake, sit still. We're almost there."
Fighting back the urge to whine, Sam pushed down on his groin where it hurt. Which happened to be really low, just to the right of his dick.
"Trying to tell me something?" Dean's eyes shifted from Sam's eyes to his hand and back up.
Stunned, the younger Winchester's mind raced, searching for the right answer. Dean hadn't so much as looked at him that way in so long, he was afraid to get his hopes up. Biting his lip, he shrugged. Sam would honestly swear there was almost a smile on his brother's face again.
"Gas, diner, and motel in five."
"How about gas, take out and motel?" Sam wasn't really sure he could sit at a table and eat at the moment. His traitorous dick had actually twitched at Dean's question, and the pain had actually ratcheted up a notch.
Not knowing Sam's true intention, Dean wondered how he felt at going back to his brother's bed. It had been almost two years since the last time he'd had that long body stretched out under him. A lot of shit had gone down between them. Acknowledging the fact that the angels and demons had caused a lot of it didn't really solve the issues between them. But it did help towards the possibility of healing, and Dean was definitely on board with the possibility of more.
"Dude, where we going?"
Sam's voice dragged the older Winchester out of his thoughts and he realized he was about to miss the exit. "Sorry, just thinking."
"Wow. Twice in one night. Don't strain yourself."
Rising to the bait, Dean swung out at the younger man's arm. "I'll show you strain, bitch."
"Not if you're gonna slap like a bitch, jerk." Easily catching his brother's arm, Sam squeezed it gently before letting go. But something definitely passed between them and they both knew it. Even as his heart started to speed up his dick reminded him that this might not be the best idea with another sharp pain. With a stifled groan, Sam pushed on that spot again.
"Take out, motel, diner and gas in the morning?" Dean decided he was going to see where things went between them.
It wasn't ten minutes later they were carrying their bags into the motel room. Sam was past caring what was a good idea or a bad idea for him at that moment. His brother looked like he was seriously considering sex and he intended to 'play through the pain' no matter what.
They ate in a silence that was one part shy and one part so nervous they could barely look at each other. Shoving the last bite in his mouth, Sam stood. "Hot shower?"
Still trying to figure out where the taller man was coming from, Dean nodded. Watching Sam disappear into the bathroom, he debated his options. Sam actually looked hopeful at his innuendo. And the way he'd teased back in the car, and don't forget the way he'd adjusted himself repeatedly. Standing up, he squared his shoulders. Time to find out if Sam's mind was going in the same direction his was.
The hot water soothed the muscles that had been sitting in the car for too long, but it really didn't do much for the steady ache in his groin. Leaning into the spray, Sam didn't hear the door open, but he felt the cold air when his brother joined him. When the familiar hands reached up and gently caressed his shoulders, Sam sighed and leaned back. Fingers dug into the muscle and he shuddered. Even as the blood rushed to his dick a shooting pain shot through him and he jerked forward, inadvertently away from his brother.
Before he could even say a word, the hands disappeared and Dean was gone. Turning, he tried to step out, but the pain was now excruciating and he was forced to admit the fact that his erection was exponentially making the pain worse. Slapping the wall, he tried to call out to his brother, but it hurt too much. Taking a few deep breaths, Sam forced himself to step out of the tub and reached for the bathroom door. But it was too late. The room was empty.
When his brother pulled away, Dean realized he'd made a huge mistake. This obviously wasn't what Sam wanted. Before Sam could mumble some kind of bullshit about not being ready, or that it wasn't Dean, or some other comment meant to let him down easy, the older Winchester ran. Not even bothering to dry off, he dragged his clothes onto his dripping body and headed outside. Jumping into the Impala, he took off, wondering what the fuck he'd been thinking when he'd decided to try to resurrect a relationship that was better off salted and burned.
For a moment, Sam stood in the empty room and tried to form a thought. Dean was gone. He heard the Impala pull away and his first thought was that he'd never see him again. When he'd pulled away, it hadn't had anything to do with Dean, but obviously his brother had assumed it had. Now he was gone and the thought that he'd never be back broke something in Sam. Mercifully, his erection had finally wilted, but when he tried to take a step the pain shot up his body and he nearly fell.
Frustrated, in pain, and heartbroken that he was apparently alone again, the tears that filled his eyes refused to go away. Moving slowly to the bed, he realized that Dean's bag was still on the bed. Not even bothering to thank God, he just sighed in relief. It would most likely be a while, but at some point his brother would be back. With that thought calming him, he realized he had another matter to attend to. The thought of actually getting dressed and going to the ice machine was just too much for him, and he settled for letting the water in the sink run until it was as cold as it was going to get before wetting a rag. Lying on the bed, Sam placed the cool towel against his testicles, finally admitting that something was definitely wrong that wasn't going to heal itself.
The thought of going to a doctor about this made a deep blush crawl across his body and for a moment he actually hoped he'd die before he had to go. At least they'd heal and he wouldn't have to actually tell a stranger that an arch angel had wrecked his nuts in some twisted version of a game show. Yeah, death sounded better right about now.
Dean had driven around for a couple hours before settling himself at a bar. His intention was to drink himself into a stupor and passing out in the car. He could put off figuring out his next move until morning. His first thought was just to keep driving, but in the end, the memory of Sam in the white suit kept him from doing that. Hopefully he could just stay away for a while and they could manage the tried and true Winchester way of handling bad situations. Pretend they never happened.
He'd had one beer and a shot when his phone rang. Sam's ringtone didn't make him even pull his phone from his pocket. He had no desire to hear what his brother wanted to say. The first words would probably be 'I'm sorry'. Two minutes later it rang again. And then again. Right before he could turn it off a text popped up on the screen.
I need ice and ibu. PLEASE?
What the hell did Sam need painkillers for? It occurred to him that he had the first aid kit in the trunk, so he paid the tab and headed out. His mind was still trying to formulate a plan to get past his clusterfuck when it hit him. Sam had also asked for ice. That meant his brother couldn't get to the ice machine. The thought that his tough son of a bitch of a brother couldn't make it to the ice machine made him realize that something was really wrong. Pushing the pedal down harder, he forgot all about figuring out what to say. Sam was hurt.
Sam's hands were shaking while he sent the text. If he could have reached a knife at that moment he honestly thought he'd cut his right nut right off his own body to stop the pain. Dean wasn't going to answer his calls, so odds were he wasn't going to read a text. But there was no way Sam was going to make anywhere but to the sink for cold water and back. Resigned to the fact that he was in for a long night of pain, he brushed the stray tear off his face and placed the fresh towel against himself again.
Just as Dean unlocked the hotel room, the thought occurred to him that it was all a ruse to get him back to the hotel. If that was the case, he was about to tear a strip off his brother. But that thought was fleeting the second he saw the man lying naked on a bed with a towel shoved up against his own balls.
"What the fuck?"
"Dean." He was breathing deep and fast, obviously in pain.
"What. The. Fuck?" Approaching the bed, Dean handed popped two pills into his hand and offered them to his brother.
"Just get me some ice. Please?"
The sight was so pathetic, Dean could only nod and grab the ice bucket. When he returned, he packed some ice in a towel and stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, not having any idea what to do.
"Gimme." When Dean handed it to him, he laid it against himself and sighed. It helped, but the pain was still pretty intense.
Sitting on the other bed, Dean tried to speak a few times before he finally got a word out. "What….?"
Sam kept his eyes to the ceiling and his voice even. "Nutcracker."
The older brother's first instinct was to laugh, and just as it escaped his mouth, it hit him. "That was two weeks ago, Sam."
"Yeah. Got better for a while, but after digging the graves and getting tossed around at the convention, it got worse. Then in the shower…" He shrugged and it all clicked in Dean's mind.
His brother hadn't pulled away because he didn't want Dean to touch him. His brother had pulled away because a hard on had probably been agonizing. And Dean had left him there. "Sammy, I'm sorry."
"Why?" Hazel eyes finally turned to him. "I mean, I wish you'd given me a chance to say something, but I get it."
"But I didn't, and you've been lying here for hours in pain."
"I'll live. Been smacked in the nuts before. By you on one occasion."
"Hey, I was thirteen and you'd just smacked me in the face with a god damned numb chuck." He watched Sam shift the ice and wince. "You know you're gonna have to let me take a look."
A brand new bitchface was born.
"Don't waste your best bitchface on this. It's been two weeks, you shouldn't still be in this kind of pain."
"Wasn't. Like I said, it got better than got worse."
"Two weeks, Sam. Too long for just being sore." Making a decision, Dean rose and moved to the foot of the bed his brother was lying on.
"Spread 'em." Trying to make it an order, but failing miserably, Dean couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face.
"Kill me now." Sam dropped his arm over his face, but he move his legs so the older man could move between them.
"Get over it. If that nut hadn't been busted I'd have them both in my mouth by now."
A laugh that turned into a moan echoed in the room. "Dude, don't make me laugh. Hurts."
Dean smiled until he pulled the makeshift ice pack away from his brother. Standing quickly, Dean grabbed a pair of sweats and a shirt out of Sam's bag. "Hospital. Now."
"Come on, Dean."
"Don't come on, me, Sammy. Even if I didn't know your balls up close and personal, I know one of them is NOT supposed to be twice the size of the other."
"Twice?" Sam's voice actually came out in a squeak and he leaned up like he could see it himself.
"Yeah, dude. Twice." Reaching down, he took his brother's arm. "Come on, nice and slow."
The younger Winchester shook his head. "No. No way, dude. Hospital? Doctor? No."
"It's an injury, Sam. We get it treated. Just like any other injury."
Allowing his brother to slide his sweats over his feet, Sam actually pouted. "Wouldn't be saying that if some stranger was about to mess with your balls." When Dean stopped to stare at him, he pointed at him. "NOT some hot chick in a bar, Dean."
"Come on, Sasquatch."
Slowly they made their way to the nearest hospital. After a short wait, the nurse called his name. Dean stood, but Sam forcefully shoved him back in the chair. "No fucking way. You won't give me a gun, you don't get to watch."
Sam looked more like he was facing a firing squad then a doctor, but then he'd already said numerous times on the way that he'd prefer a firing squad.
For about an hour, Dean was left in the waiting room. As far as Winchester hospital visits go, this was a fairly tame visit. The only possible casualty was his brother's pride. So he paced a bit, watched some TV, read all the magazines, and was not exactly beyond annoying the nurse when he heard loud scream that could only be his brother. Shoving his way past a security guard that was more for show than anything else, he raced through the ER yelling his brother's name.
A nurse finally got in front of him. "Dean!"
"Where is my brother!"
"He's in here." She led him to a treatment room and pulled back the curtain.
The doctor was washing his hands, but what caught the Winchester's attention was the man hanging off the way too small table.
"Hey, Sammy. You look like they gave you the good stuff."
"Lots of it." He grinned at his brother.
"Doc?" Dean turned to the doctor.
"I was just about to send for you. We're done."
"And? He's okay?"
Sighing, the doctor looked from the over gown grinning puppy to Dean. "Good thing you brought him in here when you did. If he'd waited much longer he could have lost his testicle."
"Lost? What the fu- sorry. What do you mean lost?"
"I mean the blow your brother took literally dislocated his testicle. And he waited until the pain was probably beyond excruciating before coming in to have it checked."
"I didn't even know…."
"Most men don't, but it's actually not that uncommon. It's mainly due to motorcycle crashes."
Right then and there Dean decided he would never ride a motorcycle again. Ever.
"But if it's caught immediately, it's usually not so severe. Simple manipulation and some anti-inflammatories leave the patient with no lasting damage."
"Manipulation- do I want to know?"
"Probably not, just know that I put it back where it belongs." Dean winced and the doctor continued quickly. "It's called closed reduction. Even with the morphine, it's not pleasant, but he was lucky. I think he'll be able to avoid surgery."
"Surgery? I…." Dean crossed the room to his brother. "I didn't know it was that bad."
"Like I said, the reduction worked to put it back where it belongs. That being said, the initial injury was two weeks ago, so the blood flow restriction could have some lasting effects."
"What kind of lasting effects?" Putting his hand on the large shoulder on the bed, he turned back to the doctor. He smiled a bit when he realized that Sam was actually asleep. "He's not gonna be…. He's gonna be able to…." The older man stammered, trying to find a way to ask.
The doctor nodded. "I think the word you're looking for is erection and yes, I think he'll be fine there. What I'm concerned about…" He hesitated for a moment. "Fertility could be effected."
"Fertility." Dean's hand tightened on his brother. "He won't be able to have kids?" It wasn't like either of them had really considered it in recent years, but to be told that it would never be a possibility?
"I'm not saying that. But there is considerable swelling and he could lose the sperm count from that side. It would make fertility more difficult, but not impossible. It may not even happen. I just want to schedule a follow up to do another ultrasound. Even if there is a problem, there is a surgery he might be a candidate for."
"We'll cross that one when we get to it. When can I get him out of here?" Dean's head was still spinning, but his primary instinct was in full force. Take care of Sammy.
"You can take him now. Just make sure he doesn't do anything strenuous. I mean anything, Dean. At least a week. Two would be better. No lifting, no running, and no sex for at least a week."
For a moment, Dean panicked that the doctor had figured out he was the one that would be having sex with him, but it passed and the Winchester realized the doctor meant sex in general. "Got it."
"I'll give him some painkillers and anti-inflammatories, make sure he takes them with food. And ice for the next few days."
With discharge directions and prescriptions in his pocket, Dean started on the task of getting Sam back to the hotel.
It was very slow going with a 6'5" man who was so drugged he resembled an 200lbs stuffed animal, but Dean managed to get them back to the hotel. Wasn't a stretch to figure that Sam was going to sleep through the night. Taking advantage of that fact, Dean ran to the store to stock up on enough supplies to last them at least a couple of days.
It was almost noon before shaggy hair appeared out from under the blanket. By the time he opened his eyes, Dean was ready.
"Got you some of that fruit yogurt you like, coffee, and drugs."
"Wasn't a dream, then, huh."
"Nope. Sorry, Sammy, you got your right nut manipulated back where it belonged."
"Oh, God. Why didn't you just shoot me like I asked you to?"
"Because I would have missed this part." Grinning, the older brother ignored the raised finger and sat on the edge of the bed. "Yes, I'm going to tease you about this. Older brother prerogative. But there is one thing we need to talk about."
"What?" Dean's face being so serious scared him. "My dick's still there, right?" He reached down.
"Yeah, kiddo. It's all there. But you're gonna have to go back to the doctor in a few weeks."
"We'll be six states away, Dean."
"No, we won't be. Not gonna mess with this, Sam."
"Scaring me, here. What's going on?"
"Doc said something about some tube being swollen and because you left it untreated for two weeks, which, by the way what the FUCK were you thinking? But it could actually lower your sperm count."
"So?" Sam was still waiting for the bad news.
"Like make it harder for you to have a baby?"
"That's what you're worried about?" Throwing his head back, Sam started to laugh. "I wasn't imaging you in the shower last night, right? I hate to confuse you, here, but my sperm count is the least of our worries if you're talking about having a baby, Dean. "
"Shut up, wiseass. But do you really want to run the risk of never being able to have a child of your own?"
After a long minute, Sam shrugged. "Save the cost of a vasectomy."
"What?" Dean stared at his brother.
"Demon blood, Dean. You really think even if I was the least bit interested in settling down I'd want to have a baby? Run even the risk of passing that on?"
It had never occurred to Dean that finding out he carried Demon blood meant that he could never have a child of his own. But before he could say anything, Sam continued.
"Doesn't matter anyway, Dean. You really thing we're gonna make it through this?" Leaning up, he reached for his brother. "I intend to spend every minute we have left with you, enjoying being with you and trying to make up for everything I've done to you."
"Stop." Dean kissed him. "We're not okay yet, but we will be."
"I can't say I'm sorry enough." He returned Dean's kiss. "But I'm telling you right now you give me a hard on and I will have to kill you."
"Doc said no sex for at least a week." He laughed. "For a second I thought he was telling me I couldn't have sex with you."
That made the younger man laugh. "Sorry I missed that."
Making another ice pack, Dean handed it to him. "Put that on. Eat up, take your pills. You're not going farther then the bathroom for a couple days."
"Not an invalid, Dean."
"Doc said no moving around, no running, no heavy lifting."
"So what, you're gonna hold my dick while I take a piss?"
The sarcastic grin on Sam's face made Dean smile. "No hard ons, remember?"
Sitting down on the bed next to him, Dean sighed. "I'm dragging, Sammy."
"So get some sleep." He yawned. "I'm gonna take a piss, finish this up and go back to sleep." Moving the blanket back he started to get up.
Hearing his little brother's sharp inhale, Dean jumped up and ran around the bed. "Come on."
Sam looked up at the older man, hating the fact that he evidently wasn't going to be able to make it to the bathroom alone. "Just help me up. Fuckin' hurts."
Gently they got Sam to his feet and they shuffled to the bathroom together. At the door, Sam held his hand up. "Think I can take it from here." But to make Dean feel better he left the door cracked a little.
It was quiet for a moment, then Sam's groan brought Dean into the bathroom in time to keep the larger man from falling over. "Jesus Christ that hurts!"
"Discharge papers said it might for a day or so." Giving him a minute to breathe through it, Dean stood behind Sam with his arms wrapped around the muscular chest. "You're gonna be okay."
Unsure who Dean was trying to convince, Sam reached up with his free hand and squeezed his arm. "Yeah, I am."
Slowly, they made their way back to the bed and stretched out together. Shifting, Sam rested his chin against Dean's shoulder. "Whole week of this, huh?"
"Don't get used to it."
"God I hope not."
Lifting his head, Dean stared at his brother, trying to figure out what he meant.
With an absolutely evil grin, Sam bit the soft skin in front of him. "I hope in a week one of us will have thoroughly fucked the other before the cuddling."
A smile crossed the older Winchester's face. "I can get on board with that." A thought occurred to him and he pulled away. The absolute whine that followed him made him laugh. "Stay!" He caught his brother's single finger answer before he turned to the ice chest. After packing a large ziplock bag and wrapping it in a towel, he moved back to the bed. "You're gonna be the most adorable mastiff on two legs for the next few days." Before Sam could move he pointed at him. "You stick that finger up at me one more time and I'll suck on it."
Even the thought of Dean sucking on his finger caused a twitch that sent a wave of pain through the younger man. "You fucking asshole."
"What can I say? I create X-rated visuals. Come on, on your back and spread 'em."
"Shut up already!" He tried desperately to look annoyed, but the ice that Dean gently laid against him felt too good. Sighing, Sam shifted to get more comfortable.
"Get some sleep. I got enough to keep us going for a couple days. By then you should be able to get your jeans on and get out of here."
"Out of this town?"
"We'll see how you're doing."
Hazel eyes that were already showing the effects of the pain pills stared at him. "We don't have time for this shit."
Sighing, Dean leaned back against the headboard and ran his hand gently through the long dark hair. "Making time, Sammy. Gonna lay low and get you healed. See where things go."
Sam realized his brother meant where things went between them and he smiled. Maybe getting smacked in the nuts was the best thing that had happened to them in a long time.