AN: Post 7X05 Shut Up Dr Phil. No slash. Multiple POV. Unbeta'd.
THE LIMPET AND THE ROCK
Sam woke up, unbelievably warm with an arm draped across his chest.
What the fuck?
"...Dean?" he tried. Dean mumbled in response, face turning into the pillow. "Dean, man, what the hell? Wake up!"
"S'm?" Blinking owlishly, he frowned still half asleep. "How c'me, you're in my bed?"
"This isn't your bed." He watched as Dean sat up quickly looking over too his own bed. The sheets were tangled and disturbed which meant that his brother had at slept briefly in the right one. "Dude, you gonna let go any time soon?"
"Huh?" Sam pointedly looked down at Dean's hand that was clenched around his wrist.
As quickly as Dean could he let go of Sam, rubbing his hand across the bed covers for a moment, ignoring the roll of eyes and mutters of, 'I'm not diseased man'. Dean's brows furrowed.
"Dean, what's wrong?"
"I'm alright, hand's just tingly." Sam looked at him in concern. "Really."
Sam wasn't very convinced. "That still doesn't explain this."
"Yeah, believe me; I got no answers for you either."
"Great. You can let go of my shirt now..." Sam said having watched Dean's fingers walk across the doona and twist into the hem of his shirt "...since you know, you aren't dying or anything."
Sam had disappeared into the bathroom after Dean pulled his hand away quickly.
The tingling sensation in Dean's hand slowly turned into a throb. Flexing his hand repeatedly he tried to figure out how he had transferred himself into his brother's bed.
He had definitely gone to sleep on his own bed after a final cleaning of weapons, checking on salt lines, and checking on Sam who had had to be forcible separated from his laptop upon the threat of bodily harm.
He had made sure that his knife was under his pillow, feeling the ridges of the handle as assurance before finally settling into bed with the front of his body to the door. Just in case. Always, just in case.
He woke up in Sam's bed.
The throbbing was beginning to morph with what felt like fire, racing through his veins. He hissed cradling his hand.
"Shower's free." Sam said dumping his clothes into his bag. Dean didn't move. "Dude, I said the showers free."
"I heard. Give me a sec." The pain spread to his other hand.
"Are you okay?"
Dean was beginning to feel nauseous. "I think I'm-" he didn't finish the sentence, bolting to the bathroom and retching last night's dinner into the toilet. Sam came up behind him already wringing out water from a little washcloth and gently placed his hand on Dean's shoulder.
The pain vanished, the nausea stopped, even the beginnings of the drum beat in his head had quieted to nothing.
Oh you have got to be shitting me.
Sam gently nudged Dean towards the toilet bowl. "Must've been the burger," he said quietly. Dean just looked at him funny. "Not the burger? Are you getting sick? Why didn't you say anything before?" He stood up, sighing. "You and your stupid martyr shit."
He quickly left the bathroom hearing Dean curse and retch again. Rummaging through the med-kit he came up with anti-nausea meds, a thermometer and a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge. As far as he could tell in the past couple of days Dean had been fine, but then again, they had both been run off their feet with barely enough time for them to look after each other, let alone themselves.
Dean was still crouched over the toilet bowl when he re-entered the bathroom. "I come bearing gifts," he said holding up the anti-nausea meds. He crouched next to Dean, opening the Gatorade and the pill bottle before dropping two little capsules into the palm of his hand.
Sam frowned. Dean's hands were shaking when he took them and threw them into the back of his throat.
"Damn it," came the mutter and Sam watched Dean retch into the bowl again. The two little capsules bobbed to the surface of the water. "Help me up."
He gently took Dean's arm and let out an annoyed huff when he caught Dean's face. The red blotchiness and sweat the came with throwing up had completely disappeared, his eyes were no longer glassy and he wasn't shaking anymore. "Did you just fake all that?"
He received a pissed look in return. "Houston, we have a problem."
Dean pushed him off and he watched as his cocky brother was returned to the snivelling, gross mess that he was twenty seconds ago. Dean latched onto his arm again. Sure enough, everything disappeared until it was a very pissed off healthy Dean looking back at him.
Sam shoved him off.
Dean groaned, flushing red and dropped down in front of the toilet. "You freaking suck man."
"What do we do?"
"We go to Bobby's."
"Are you nuts? I ain't going to him like this!" Dean said yanking his hand off Sam's shoulder. The separation didn't last very long though. "Aw, shit," he mumbled rubbing his eyes and grabbing Sam's elbow. Dean rubbed his eyes with the back of his free hand, trying to relax.
"It ain't going away…Sam, what the hell let go of me you fragging' girl!" He yipped feeling Sam's arms snake around his back. The hug was weird, not that he had an issue with hugging Sam, but neither of them were dying, it wasn't necessary, at least not yet.
"I am not hugging you forever man!"
"I know. I suppose we're going to manage with this." Sam shook him off and reached for his hand, rolling his eyes as Dean tugged his hand away. Sam gave him a look and reluctantly he slipped his palm into Sam's. "Dean."
"Yeah, the headache's stopped."
"You're being really quiet."
"How much it sucks packing one handed." Dean said trying to wrestle the jacket into his bag. In reality he was thinking about how much his head was starting to throb again...handholding wouldn't be sufficient for much longer.
Sam gave Dean a small smile watching the flush of his brother's cheeks as the motel clerk gave their clasped hands a once over as they checked out.
After dumping their bags in the back, he moved to driver's side door with the intention of getting Dean settled before he sprinted to the passenger side, hopefully in time to re-join their hands and avoid Dean bitch and apologise for vomiting in his baby. Instead, he was surprised when Dean slid in across the bench seat dragging him into the driver's seat and thrusting the keys into his chest.
"Sam, just drive alright?"
Sam started the engine easing out of the motel parking lot. "Okay if you're sure. What? Dean, get off me!" Dean had slipped his head under Sam's arm and onto his chest, wrapping Sam's hand over his shoulder. Sam was now driving with one hand.
"What do you mean you can't?"
Dean growled. Each sentence he spat out sounded like it was dripped in oestrogen. "As in I can't let go of you, it physically fucking hurts alright."
"Aww, Dean, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Sam replied.
"Shut up you asshole. I mean, if I let go of you, I might die."
"Love you too man."
Dean twisted his gaze up towards Sam's face.
"Do you want a punch to the face? Cause I will find a way to swing, attached to you or not."
Sam hoped that Dean wasn't staring into his nostrils. Turning serious, he took a breath in trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry. Just, um...try and get some sleep or something."
Bobby stepped onto the porch muttering under his breath as the Impala drove up. He wasn't unhappy to see the boys, they were his adopted kids but why did it seem like they always carried big neon signs saying 'attack me'...or maybe the words 'target' got tattooed across their foreheads in invisible ink.
Stranger things had happened.
He watched curiously as the Impala's engine cut out. Sam getting out followed by a very pissed off looking Dean holding his hand until they had both exited the car. As they began walking, Dean's arms snaked around Sam's midsection, pulling a mildly annoyed look from Sam as he adjusted his gait to accommodate the unusual predicament.
"Do I get a hug to?"
"Shut up Bobby," The glare Dean fixed Bobby with was normally very frightening, but with his arms wrapped around Sam's torso made him look like a child.
Sam just looked tired.
Day 1 at Bobby's House:
"This is really boring."
"Well, if you find this boring then you can leave."
"Haha, very funny. Turn the page."
"I'm not done yet."
"Hurry up then."
"I don't want to miss anything."
"Because, 'Hindrich's Anthology of Binding Rituals', is so riveting."
"No, you ass. Because there could be something useful in here to stop this." Sam wrenched the book from Dean's grasp and muttered, "Man, why does this shit always happen to you?"
"What the hell do you want?"
"Sam, you son of a bitch, let go! Ow! Stop it!"
"I will let go if you stop."
"What the fuck man?! In the eye! Are you serious? What are you? Three?"
"Give me back my finger or I'll poke out the other one."
Sam yawned rubbing his eyes. "Dean are you going to watch TV all night?"
"Yeah I...there's a Back to the Future marathon on. If you want you could go to bed."
"And leave you to potentially die on Bobby's couch. Are you kidding me? He'd kick my ass...he loves this couch." Sam smirked. "I don't think you've ever hugged me for this long."
Dean snorted. "There's a reason for that."
"Because you'd expect it all the time."
"That's not true!"
"Are you kidding me? Your insistence on deep and meaningful soul-bearing conversations is bad enough. Add hugging to the mix, you might as well change your name to Samantha."
"You're a douche. At least turn the volume down a bit." Sam tried to shuffle into a comfortable position, shoving Dean over until he could take over most of the couch and lie down with his feet hanging off the end. Dean dropped a hand on top of him, accidently hitting his chin. He looked up glaring. "Jerk."
Day 2 at Bobby's House:
Dean had gone crazy.
Sam didn't know, how or when it happened, but all he knew was that those stupid freaking witches broke his brother.
How else was he going to explain this to Bobby?
"Dude, you gotta pay attention if you're gonna stick to me," Sam sighed.
"I am paying attention you ass."
"No you aren't. And I can tell you aren't because we just walked out of the kitchen without your lunch."
"Oh, well then we have go back."
"What Dean?! Get off me you asshole!"
"C'mon Sammy, to the kitchen!"
A cough interrupted them. "When you boys are done playing horsey I need you to check out some leads."
"Bobby, this is-Dean is-"
"I don't really need specifics Sam. I have eyes." He walked out of the room.
Sam let out a frustrated breath. "What the hell's wrong with you?!"
"Chill out Sam. I want my lunch. And since I'm awesome and want you to have your lunch too, the faster I get my lunch the faster you get yours."
"That's nice of you. Now get off me."
"First get my lunch."
"I am not piggy-backing you to the kitchen. What are you? Five?"
"Shut up and get my damn lunch Sam. I don't have a choice but to hang on all day." He could almost see Dean's shit eating grin.
Angrily Sam piggy-backed Dean into the kitchen and unceremoniously dumped him to the ground. When he made sure that Dean had his lunch in hand he grabbed a glass of water. Dean made a little noise of protest. He filled the glass of water for the second time and sculled it down.
There was a sheepish look on Dean's face. "Um...Sammy? You can't drink so much."
"What? Oh, come on!" Sam said letting the glass fall into the sink.
"You boys find anything?" Bobby walked into the living room leafing through a book.
Sam looked up from his laptop. "I have an idea. Don and Maggie."
"But we helped them! I fixed their marriage." Dean said.
Sam ignored that and said, "Remember Maggie still had those coins under our mattresses after we helped them. Don saved us. Maybe things haven't gone so peachy for them and she cursed you...after all, it was your advice."
"My advice was awesome."
"Maybe Don's trying to tell us something?"
Uneasiness crept through Sam. "I don't know, you tell me."
Dean glared at him before stealing the laptop. "Freakin' witches man."
Sam and Bobby traded looks. Making his way over to them, Bobby handed the book to Sam. "Most of the lore favours the side of; it'll wear out when it's good and ready."
"What if that's forever?"
"If what Sam says is true, and it's them, I doubt it'll be for that long."
Day 3 at Bobby's House:
"You don't think this is going to get worse do you?" Sam bit his lip.
Barely listening to Sam, Dean replied quickly with: "I'm stuck to you 24/7 - that's bad enough." His attention was focused on Dr Sexy and one of the new interns getting it on in the storage closet.
"It's just; we've gone from handholding to this…"
They were practically cuddling on the sofa.
"...I am really hoping that it doesn't go further. Dean, you know when I say, I'd anything for you. Am I allowed to draw a line?"
"Uh. I guess." Dean replied, eyes still glued to the TV. In his peripheral he could see Sam swallow and nod his head.
Sam took a deep breath in before the words rushed out. "I don't wanna have sex with you."
"That's nice Sam-wait-what?!" Brain finally catching up with what he heard, Dean pulled back from Sam, his eyes widening in horror.
"It's just with this curse and you know the escalation, I mean it's a-"
Dean shook his head attempting to put distance between him and his insane brother. "If you try anything, I will cut off 'little Sam' and nail it to the underside of Bobby's front porch. Do you understand me?" He fought the onslaught of nausea that came with the distance between them and swallowed down the little bit of vomit that had entered his mouth. "I am going to scrub this whole thing from my mind. The last five minutes did not just happen."
"...so it's alright that if it came to it, I wouldn't-"
"Yes!" Dean grabbed Sam's hand afraid that he'd be sick on the carpet.
"Oh thank god." Sam slumped into the couch huffing out a little laugh. "For a moment I thought you were pissed off that I-"
"Sam. I really would rather die." Dean said moving back alongside Sam.
"Okay. Good...well, obviously not good, because well. You know, I don't want you to die. It's just hard to figure out where the limits are with this sorta stuff. So just to be clear. To save you I am allowed to sell my soul."
"Fucking hell we should not be having this conversation. At all."
"Fine! Sex no, soul yes. Okay? Happy? Fan-fucking-tastic. Now will you please shut up and give me my gun so I can shoot my brains out?"
Day 4 at Bobby's House:
He woke up, after an uneasy sleep. He really, really needed the bathroom. He hadn't gone since...before the whole mess and damn, he didn't want to have Dean sick, but he really had to go. He watched as Dean; face still slack with sleep, snored into his side. "Dean, wake up." He figured getting the pleasantries out of the way would be good. "Feel any different?"
"Hmm?" Dean replied groggily turning away from Sam, his back still resting against Sam's side.
"Do you think it's worn off? Should we test it?"
Dean groaned, sitting up. "Fine, pass me the bucket."
"Okay, but Dean I need to go." Dean looked at him confused. "The water was such a bad idea?"
Dean's eyes went hard as if he were preparing himself for the onslaught of oncoming crappiness. "Just hurry up Sam."
Nodding once he moved slowly off the bed, until all he had to do was drop his hand and then they would see if things were back to normal. "I'm letting go," he said stepping back. Dean turned a ghastly shade of grey, forearms braced on the rim of the bucket throwing up his dinner.
In what he considered record time he was back at Dean's side practically diving onto his brother and removing the bucket as Dean slumped into the bed.
"Man now I've gotta go to...why can't I be cursed with something cool? C'mon Sam. Just walk me there, wait outside and hope that I don't die in there, because I refuse to go out that way."
"I'd kill for a shower," said one of the brother's. It sounded like Sam, which it probably was knowing the kid's hygiene habits, not to say that Dean was any less clean but Sam had a tendency to obsess over things like grit under his nails. As a kid he could spend forever absentmindedly running his fingernails under each other removing the collected debris.
"You'll get no arguments from me." Bobby said.
Yes they were starting to stink.
In return he received two identical glares from over the top of the couch. "I'm just saying."
Dean's voice: "You know, if you want, just take a shower, I'll be fine."
Sam's: "I've dealt with worse. And when I said I'd kill for a shower I didn't necessarily mean I'd kill you."
Dean: "I'm not going to die Sam."
Sam's reply was too quiet for Bobby to catch.
"Sam, stop thinking and go to sleep."
"I am sleeping," Sam mumbled.
"Coulda fooled me. You sleeping with your eyes open is a recent development."
"God, I can't wait 'til this is over. How do conjoined people do this?"
"Dunno. You sick of me already Sam?"
"I guess." He pinched Dean's hand to let him know he was kidding. "I miss personal space."
"Ah, you were always big on personal space."
"Dean, don't," Sam sighed shifting slightly. He didn't want to hear Dean drag out Stanford… or Heaven...hell even Robo-Sam.
Dean laughed quietly near his ear. "I don't mean that stuff. I mean like what you were a two and a half and a pain in the ass."
"That was the first time you wouldn't let me hug you. Dad had to send me to school. Pastor Jim arranged it with a friend of his, I dunno, somewhere in Arkansas. I was home-schooled – if you can call it that for a little while. Anyway, my first day, you were asleep in the backseat. You were a bit sick so dad dosed you with cough syrup so you'd get some shut-eye. When school let out you saw me and ran up, and I freaked out 'cause you were crying. And I tried to hug you and bam! Little shit you were, clocked me a weak one across the cheek. Dad said when you woke up and saw I wasn't there, you screamed like a banshee. You thought I had left you. You wouldn't let me near you for days after." He left out the part where he had cried into his Dad's shoulder that night thinking Sam hated him and swearing to never go to school again. He had stayed home for the rest of the week with Sam watching him cautiously as if he'd disappear again. They had moved to a different state a week later.
"Sam, you awake kiddo?"
He got a soft snore in response and pulled a face. Sam was drooling into his shoulder.
Day 5 at Bobby's House:
Sam woke up shivering. The doona was bunched up to his side obscuring Dean from his vision. Trying to untangle it he managed to drag some of it over onto himself and promptly fell asleep again.
"Boys'! Breakfast's on the table. I gotta head into town for a bit."
"Piss off." He whacked in the general direction of whoever was shaking his shoulder.
"Rise and shine Sammy. It's going to be a beautiful day." He shot up, head smacking into Dean's who scowled at him rubbing his forehead. "Damn it. And today's meant to be a good day." Dean grinned at him moving over to his bag on the floor. "Shower's free."
"You're back to normal." Sam said moving to the edge of the bed.
"If by normal you mean awesome, then yes. Back to normal. Now, c'mon, shower and then breakfast. Bobby got creative. We got three types of pancakes Sam!"
Sam laughed at Dean's enthusiasm. "Did you leave me any hot water?"
"You jerk. Doesn't matter, it'll wake me up. I'm still feeling tired." He yawned.
"Figures. You were out like a light after tripping memory lane. You even drooled on my shirt."
"I'm serious! We should get you checked out. You might have a problem." Shit eating grin again.
Sam gestured to the door. "Go! C'mon Dean, why are you still here? I'd have though I wouldn't see you for a few days." He smirked. "You miss me already?"
Dean scoffed, standing up and moving towards the door. "No."
"Then go eat breakfast. I'll be down in a few minutes."
"Alright." Dean disappeared from view, and seconds later he heard Dean bounding down the stairs.
Damn, maybe there was a downside to finally being separated…"Dean! Save me some pancakes dammit!"
AN: There we go ;) Um, anything else? Got a fic in progress called Aftermath of an Angel Fall, it's speculative season 9 if you are interested. Other than that, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.