The door to the bunker opened with a loud creak. "It's me," Sam called out, removing his earbuds and jogging down the stairs into the main room. He unzipped his hooded sweatshirt as he moved into the kitchen and set down the bag of fresh produce in his other hand. "Dean?"
Silence greeted Sam. He shrugged his shoulders and unpacked his haul, biting into an apple as he put the other items away for later. The cool air from the fridge chilled his sweat-dampened t-shirt, and Sam decided a shower needed to be his next order of business. Apple still in hand, he entered the hallway and turned toward the bathroom, but stopped himself. He chewed thoughtfully as he reviewed his long run to the farmer's market and the longer walk back. Dean really should be up by now, he mused. Sam looked down the hallway and saw light coming from under his brother's bedroom door. A faint sense of unease settled on his broad shoulders, and Sam moved towards Dean's door, taking another crisp bite.
"Son of a bitch!" erupted from the older Winchester's room, followed by a loud thud against the wall. Sam went instantly into hunter mode. He dropped his snack as he sped up and burst through Dean's door, eyes quickly scanning the room for the threat, prepared for anything.
Anything, that is, except for what he actually saw.
Dean was sitting on the end of his bed, completely alone, eyes wide in panic, flushed and sweaty...and naked.
"What the Hell, Dean?!" Sam shouted, turning his back on his brother.
"Damn right 'what the Hell,' Sam!" Dean yelled back, scrambling to drag a blanket across his lap. "Don't you knock?!"
"Not when it sounds like you're in the middle of a fight!" Sam ran both hands through his long brown hair as he took a deep, calming breath. "So, I repeat: What the Hell?"
Chewing nervously on his bottom lip, Dean stared at his brother's back while he tried to think of exactly how to explain his...situation...without ratcheting up the embarrassment factor even higher. "I...It won't go down."
Sam turned his head just enough to verify that Dean was somewhat decent, then faced him; Dean was strenuously staring off to the side, completely avoiding his gaze. "What won't go down?" he asked. Dean glanced up at his brother, then down at his lap significantly, and finally back up at Sam. Raising his eyebrows, the younger Winchester fought hard against the laugh bubbling up in his chest. "Seriously?" he responded, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Have you tried-?"
His expression turned borderline homicidal. Dean growled, "Of course I have! I've tried everything I could think of! Twice!" A snicker escaped Sam's throat, and Dean's eyes went even harder. "This isn't funny, Sam!"
"No, of course it's not," Sam said soothingly, but the wide smile on his face belied his words. He focused on the floor in an effort to control himself and saw a half-empty squeeze tube laying there. That's not toothpaste. Eww. Nudging it with a toe, he looked back towards his brother and asked, "That what I heard hit the wall?"
Dropping his gaze, Dean nodded. "Little frustrated right now."
I'm going to let that one slide. "So, any idea why you've gone all petrified forest? Is it a spell? A cursed object?" A furious blush lit up Dean's cheeks and spread like wildfire to his chest; he continued to stare at the floor as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Dean?"
"No, nothing like..." He trailed off.
"Dean, I can't help you if you don't-"
"Viagra, okay! I took some Viagra." Dean briefly met his brother's eyes, saw the absolute merriment lighting up their golden-brown depths, and groaned, wishing the universe would take pity on him and just kill him right then and there. Almost rather be back on Alastair's rack...might be less painful anyway.
Sam scrubbed his hand over his mouth in an effort to keep from cracking up. When he was reasonably sure he wouldn't burst out laughing, he managed, "Where did you-?"
"I snagged some when we were at that nursing home."
"Dick move," Sam quipped.
That red-hot glare was back. "Not funny, Sam."
"It was when you said it."
A little bit of his cocky swagger ventured forth. "That's 'cause I'm hilarious."
"And impotent, apparently," Sam shot back.
Dean started to rise from the bed, ready to slug his brother's smug face, but feeling the blanket sliding along his bare skin made him think better of it. He plopped right back down and settled for stabbing an angry finger in Sam's direction. "That's blasphemy! Dean Winchester has never and will never need any help in that department!"
"So then why did you...?"
"I was bored and curious, okay. Help me out here, Sam."
Putting both hands up, Sam started to back away. "Uh, pretty sure that's way outside my job description."
Rolling his eyes, Dean glared at Sam again. "That's not what I meant and you know it!" Sighing, Dean's expression softened and turned helpless. "Please, Sam-what do I do?"
Sam wanted to laugh, he really did. But Dean looked so pitiful right then, he had a hard time holding on completely to his amusement. "Alright, I'll help. How long have you been, uh, at attention?"
"When did you leave this morning?"
That made Sam pause. "Over three hours ago, Dean," he answered with a serious tone. "This is a big problem."
Dean snickered. "Yeah, it is."
It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. "You're an ass. We need to get you to an emergency room."
"I don't need a doctor," Dean scoffed. "It's just a-"
"Remember the commercials?"
Brow furrowed, Dean searched for the memory. Sam could tell he found it when he responded in a panicked tone, "Actually, hospital sounds like a great idea right now." He stood up from the bed. "Let's get out of here."
Sam clapped a large hand over his eyes. "Uh, Dean? Clothes would be good."
"Right," Dean agreed, heading to his dresser. "How about you-?"
"I'll be in the car," Sam blurted, then hurried out of the room.
"Yeah, you do that. I'll just be…" Alone, Dean banged his head against the top of his dresser and cursed his life yet again. After a moment, he cancelled the pity party and started trying to find something to wear that would hopefully hide his condition.
Over the course of his unconventional life, Sam had hauled someone bodily into the emergency room of more hospitals than he could count. All told, the sum of those instances involved a veritable cornucopia of monster- or spirit-given injuries, most of which had been inflicted on Dean. If someone had suggested that morning that he'd have a completely original E.R. story about Dean to tell by the end of the day, he would have laughed in their faces. Now that he was staggering through the pneumatic doors of Lawrence Mercy, dragging a reluctant Dean behind him, it didn't seem nearly so amusing. Definitely earning my Greatest Brother Ever status today…
Not that Sam hadn't cracked jokes the entire ride from the bunker, having to pull over twice when he started laughing so hard he nearly crashed the Impala. Ok, maybe I'm just being a good brother today, Sam thought as he pulled Dean forward. One look at the near hysteria blowing up those grass-green eyes and the jacket conspicuously shielding his waist, though, had Sam choking down yet another laugh. Well, I'm alright, he amended.
Sam tried to shove Dean toward the registration desk, but he shook his head vigorously and fought back against the taller man. "I can't go over there, Sam!" he growled through clenched teeth, digging in his heels. You'd think with the saving-the-world-multiple-times thing I've got in the bank I'dve earned SOME good luck somewhere!
"What's the problem, Dean?" Sam finally looked at the staff manning the desk and immediately knew: the nurse answering questions was about their age and smoking hot. Holy crap...this just keeps getting better and better, he thought with unholy glee, snickering from behind his brother.
Dean whipped around and glared at him. "Stop that right now!" he whisper-screamed. "This is a medical emergency, and you're being a real-"
"Dick?" Sam blurted out, broad shoulders shaking with the force of his silent laughter.
"I am so done taking crap from you right now," Dean responded. The shine in his little brother's eyes let him know Sam was nearly in tears at this point, and his temper ratcheted up to levels previously reserved for meddling angels and Crowley. Jabbing a finger in Sam's face, he scolded, "I am your elder, and dammit, you are going to respect me!"
"Uh, Dean?"
"What?"
Nodding at Dean's hand, Sam said, "Your jacket is on that arm."
Panic quickly replaced anger. Dean dropped his jacket back to his waist, glancing side to side furtively and praying no one had noticed that the front of his sweatpants wasn't exactly lying flat. Licking his lips nervously, Dean tried to sound as pathetic as possible-not as hard as I'd want it to be-as he begged Sam, "Please, Sammy? Name your price, man, and I'll pay it."
Sam thought about it for a second. "One month's bathroom cleaning duty?"
Dean could not have responded more quickly or more vigorously. "You got it, Sam, I swear" was accompanied by nodding so enthusiastic it surprised Sam that Dean's head didn't fall off.
Clapping his hand to Dean's shoulder in an encouraging, brotherly way, Sam smiled. "Alright, I'll take care of it. You just wait over there," he said, gesturing towards the small waiting area. As they walked away from each other, Sam amused himself by wondering just how much Mexican food he could eat over the next month without doing permanent damage to his digestive system or their plumbing. So it was with a genuine smile on his face that he approached the charge nurse at the desk.
"Good afternoon and welcome to Lawrence Mercy," said the stunning brunette in a low and pleasant voice. "How can I help you today?"
Sam tried very hard to focus on her deep brown eyes and less on how well she filled out her pink scrub top. "It's my brother, Nurse...Cortese," he said, reading her nametag while he indulged in a brief ogle. He turned slightly and indicated Dean, who was the only man sitting in the sparsely-populated sitting area.
"Okay," she said, passing him a clipboard with standard medical forms already loaded onto it. "And what exactly is wrong with your brother?"
Not enough time in the world to answer that question. Sam leaned in and answered quietly, "He's not reacting well to a medication he took."
"Which medication?"
The corners of his mouth twitched while he tried to fight off a smile. "Viagra."
A true professional, Nurse Cortese didn't react beyond a slight raise of her eyebrows. "I see. And does your brother have a prescription for…?"
Sighing, Sam shook his head, putting on his best annoyed-sibling look. "Nope-just thought he'd try it out for kicks." Dumbass was unspoken but strongly implied.
"And I'm guessing this adverse reaction is-?"
"Yup. Going on about four hours now."
Her facade cracked slightly, and Sam chuckled as he watched her full, ruby red lips try to hold back a smile. "How about you fill out those forms, and I'll see how quickly I can get him in to see a doctor?"
Leaning even further over the counter, Sam whispered conspiratorially, "Any chance the doctor will be female?"
"Oh, it's pretty much a guarantee," she angled forward and answered quietly in his ear, warm breath ghosting along his skin in a way that widened his grin.
Sam straightened and winked at her; Nurse Cortese winked back, and he made his way over to Dean, plopping himself down in the chair next to his brother and shoving the clipboard at him. "Start writing."
"You stop flirting with Nurse Hottie long enough to find out what the wait's gonna be like?" Dean growled, annoyance clear in the rough scratch of the pen along the paper.
Rolling his eyes, Sam responded, "She said she'd try to get you in as soon as possible." Dean's satisfied grunt was his only answer, and he continued filling out the forms while Sam focused on his phone.
"As soon as possible" turned out to be only twenty minutes, but, from Dean's point of view, the universe made the most of every second. He was sitting in a hospital waiting room, flying at full mast, and watched with growing desperation as the seats around him filled up with small children and little old ladies. Sam's obvious and continued enjoyment of Dean's situation wasn't helping things any. His little brother had shared a good laugh with Nurse Hottie when he returned Dean's completed forms. A few minutes later, when a group of nuns came through the front doors, Sam nearly fell out of his chair, and Dean started actively debating the pros and cons of seppuku versus fratricide.
"Dean Winchester?"
Dean looked over his shoulder at the scrub-clad male holding a file behind him and breathed an immense sigh of relief. "Yeah, right here," he responded with a wave.
"If you'll follow me?"
Standing up quickly, Dean was so focused on getting out of the waiting room his jacket dropped from his lap. A "Goodness me!" from one of the nuns and Sam's accompanying gale of laughter had him blushing crimson as he scooped the garment off the floor and clutched it to his abdomen. "Bitch!" he hissed at his brother while he hurried over to join the staff member. The dark-haired man gestured for Dean to walk with him, and Sam slowly brought up the rear, wiping away tears as he did so. They went to a small room, where he indicated Dean should hop up on the exam table while Sam sat down in the lone chair in the room.
Blue eyes glanced down at the folder in his hands before he set it aside on the counter. "Your forms indicate you're here for-"
"Yeah," Dean said abruptly. So done talking about this...
Wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Dean's bicep, the man popped his stethoscope into his ears and started inflating the cuff. "And the medication was being used recreationally?"
Dean really didn't appreciate the combination of judgement and amusement he spotted on the guy's face as his eyes flicked back and forth between the tool and his face. "Look Doctor...Collins," he said, checking the guy's name tag, "I know what I did was dumb, so you can skip the lecture, alright? Let's just let the air out of my tire and get me the Hell out of here."
"One-forty-five over one-twelve, and I'm a nurse-not a doctor," he responded, tearing off the cuff with one hand while jabbing the probe from a digital thermometer into Dean's mouth. "Hold still and try not to talk."
"Your bedside manner could be a little warmer," Dean mumbled around the thermometer.
Nurse Collins looked at Sam, who shrugged as if to say He's an idiot, I know. "Mr. Winchester, you are taking up this hospital's time and resources-things we should be using for people who are in actual need-because you thought abusing prescription meds would be fun. My 'bedside manner' is as warm as it gets for idiots like you." The thermometer chirped, and he pulled it out of Dean's mouth. "Ninety-nine point three. Hope your boyfriend thinks it was worth it," he spat, giving both Winchesters a withering look.
"Boyfrie...no. No, no, no," Sam responded quickly. "He's my brother, and he was, uh, flying solo, actually."
They watched as the nurse's face went from angrier to incredulous and back again while he wrote a few things on Dean's paperwork. "Because that makes it so much better." Pink lips pressed into a thin white line as he grabbed a hospital gown from a drawer and shoved it into Dean's chest. "Doctor Harris should be with you in a few minutes. Lose the pants, put this over your lap, and try not to misuse any more medical equipment in the meantime." Nurse Collins swept out of the room without looking back. They heard the file slam into the holder on the door as it closed.
"Can you believe-"
"Dean," Sam interrupted, "he's got a point."
They stared each other down for a heartbeat, then Dean looked away. "S'posed to have my back," he grumbled under his breath.
Sam blew out a frustrated sigh and ran his hands back through his hair as he turned to give Dean some privacy. "I do have your back, Dean-when it actually matters. Right now, though, the only thing on the line is your damn pride, so excuse me if I'm not feeling really brotherly at the moment. Didn't really envision spending my day dealing with your manhood."
Dean had the good grace to look ashamed as he settled himself back on the table. "Yeah, this was not one of my better ideas. Sorry, Sammy."
"It's alright, man," Sam allowed, taking the now-abandoned sweats Dean held out to him. "Sorry I keep laughing at you. I'm sure me being a jerk isn't make it any easier."
"Don't worry-" Dean was cut off as the door opened.
"Mr. Winchester? I'm Doctor Harris." Both brothers stared with wide eyes as the young doctor gave them a dazzling smile, extending the hand not currently holding Dean's file. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but a few wavy tendrils had escaped to frame the creamy skin of her beautiful face. Her shapeless white coat and standard blue scrubs didn't do anything to hide her shapely figure.
The older Winchester shook her hand weakly, meeting her kind brown eyes briefly before trying desperately to think of what he'd ever done in his life to deserve a day like today. As soon as she released his hand, Dean dropped his head-and all pretense at nonchalance-and stared at her shoes while he mumbled, "Dean. Nice to meet you."
The younger Winchester decided today was thirty-three years worth of Christmas and birthday presents rolled into one. "Sam," he said as he shook the woman's hand and couldn't help but return the mischievous smile she flashed him when Dean wasn't looking.
"Alright, Dean. Let's see what we're working with here," Doctor Harris said, pulling on a pair of bright blue latex gloves.
"I think that's my cue." Sam tried to stand up and leave, but Dean's sudden grip on his bicep was bruisingly tight. The look on his face practically screamed Don't leave me! With what had to be his forty-second sigh of the day, Sam sat back down and settled for turning his head toward the wall. He heard a few low grunts from Dean and one "Hmmmm" from the physician before she stepped back far enough that Sam felt safe turning around again.
"Well, not the worst I've seen," she shared, slipping off a glove. Sam snorted, and Dean tried to kill him with a look. Doctor Harris smirked briefly before continuing. "There are usually a couple of different methods for relieving priapism, but since we're a smaller hospital, we've only got the one option available."
"And that is?" Dean ventured. Please be a pill. Please be apillPleasebeapillPlease-
Doctor Harris picked up the receiver from the black phone on the wall and hit a button. The phone chirped once, then she said, "Collins, bring a lumbar kit to eleven stat. We're ready to go in here."
Sam's eyes lit up with glee while Dean's narrowed with suspicion. "Lumbar kit?" Sam asked, not-quite-successfully keeping the mirth out of his voice. "As in…?"
Her tone was professional and meant to be reassuring. "As in, we're going to use a syringe to drain the excess blood trapped in the vessels."
Dean was trying hard to process everything she was saying. "Wait, syringe? Drain? What?" Just then, Nurse Collins entered with a sealed plastic tray, and Dean's eyes locked instantly on what had to be the biggest needle he'd ever seen. "So, you're going to…"
"Yup" was punctuated with the snap of a fresh latex glove against Doctor Harris's wrist.
Dean fainted, falling back on the exam table with a resounding thud. The three remaining adults took him in and shook their heads. "Since it looks like I'm no longer needed…" Sam ventured, and both medical staff nodded. Quietly, he slipped out the door and headed back to the waiting room. To his credit, he was halfway there before the laughter got so bad he could barely walk. Oh man! Dean is NEVER going to hear the end of this...