Hey again, just felt like writing again...
And you know... Torture Dean...
Currently I'm a huge fan of Tiger Balm... So why not write it into a story?
Oh God, did his knee ache? Yes. Yes it did.
Dean limped towards the motel room he and Sammy had rented. Hopeful that his little brother would be asleep when he entered it.
The last couple of weeks had been fantastic. Sad, but fantastic.
Two months ago, he had showed up at Sammy's apartment with one thing to tell him.
Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days…
Which roughly translated to; Dad's out hunting, and it's more than a month since I heard from him…
Sammy had told his girlfriend that he would be back in time for his interview the next Monday and then he had left with Dean. When they had returned, Jessica had been killed plastered to the ceiling. Swallowed by flames.
Sammy had gotten used to the normal, apple pie life. He had obviously forgotten a lot about the dangers of the job. He had not forgotten about the ever present possibility of getting killed though….
But he had forgotten the small stuff.
Like burns and bruises. Sprains, fractures and dislocations…
Dean on the other hand was painfully aware of all of the dangers. He had sustained double-digits injuries while Sammy had been off to college. His bum knee was one of those injuries, one of those which had stuck around and bothered him from time to time…
SPNSPNSPN
It had been a dumb accident. In a tight situation, he had been forced to jump from one rooftop to another. He had made it across… But his right knee had just collapsed under him. His full weight on the ill-positioned limb.
He had tumbled a couple of feet before he made it to a stop. Lights and colors flashed before his eyes, his knee hurt so much that he couldn't even think straight.
Of course, the fugly had jumped after him, landing with ease. Dean hated werewolves.
Luckily he had managed to put a silver bullet straight through the heart of that sucker. It had fallen dead over less than a yard away from him.
After the incident, he had spent almost three months on crutches. He had had one surgery done, but he would probably need more with time. He had been sort of lucky though… He had worked for a really rich dude, whom had payed for his surgery. And promised to pay for the future ones too…
So he didn't worry too much about that…
SPNSPNSPN
He unlocked the door silently. Almost praying that Sammy was asleep. He didn't want his baby brother to worry about his knee. It was fine.
The lights were on, but his brother was fast asleep on his bed.
Dean sent out a thank to whoever might be listening… He slowly limped across the carpeted floor.
He missed his crutches.
Well, that was something he never thought he would think…
He grabbed his duffle and headed towards the bathroom. He hissed when he stepped over the doorsill to the bathroom.
His knee wobbled a bit, but he regained control quickly. Okay, his arms flying out to steady himself against the doorframe might have helped a great deal.
He cast a glance at Sammy, happy to find his little brother still sleeping quietly.
He locked the door and hobbled the last couple of steps, unzipped his old worn-out blue jeans and levered himself onto the edge of the bathtub.
He rummaged through his duffle and found a vial of oxycodone. Then he dry-swallowed two pills. Trusting that he would forget all about his troublesome knee in about half an hour…
He looked down at the neoprene brace compressing his knee. He rolled it down his leg, the cold evening air attacked his skin and gave him goosebumps. He now knew why some girls hated going without a bra when the weather was anything but warm…
He had used the brace for about a year, maybe a little more, and the skin around his knee was unaccustomed to less than one thick layer of clothing…
That was one year… Most girls started with bras before they hit their teens…
He shivered at the thought…
He grabbed his duffle
bag, and sorted through it. Half a minute later he found what he was looking for, a nice little box of Tiger Balm.
Hello good old friend…
He thought with a smile on his face, and undid the lid.
He fished up a generous dot of paste. Rubbed his hands together and massaged it onto his aching knee. He used a couple of minutes, poking and prodding the abused joint. Then he massaged it some more…
After putting his brace back on, and washing the ointment off his hands… He did his regular bathroom businesses and limped out towards his own bed again.
He helped his right leg up on the bed, then he swung his left leg after it. He had kicked off his boots, but he didn't bother with his jeans or other clothes. He would pretend that he had passed out while watching some random television show late that night, and Sammy would probably believe him.
He didn't want his brother to know how bad his knee really was. He didn't need to know…
He turned on the television and set it on mute, something he often did when it was late and his brother slept.
He maneuvered his legs so that his left leg acted as a pillow under his right knee… Then he let his head fall against the pillow, and then he waited for the merciful sleep he expected.
Well... Hope y'all enjoyed this one.
More?
