Dean doesn't make a big deal out of it, because that's not what Winchesters do. So his shoulder is a little sore. He's had worse.
Sam's in rare form today, though. They're not even through breakfast and already the little vein in John's forehead is standing out. Dean isn't surprised when John throws his plate in the sink, grabs Sam by the collar and growls at Dean, "Outside. Now."
John orders Dean to run around the complex five times as he shoves Sam face-first onto the macadam for sit-ups, compounding Sam's misery by sitting on his back. Dean takes off rather than watch his brother struggle and his dad fume.
By the time Dean gets back from his laps, his shoulder is aching like a bitch and there's a sharp pain in his back. He's also having a little trouble catching his breath. As he comes to a stop in front of their building, he rolls his shoulder and tries to shake it off. John and Sam are sparring, both red-faced with fury and exertion. As Sam barely manages to block a right hook, Dean surges forward and taps Sam sharply on the shoulder. "Tag out."
"I'm not done with him yet," barks John.
"Yeah, you are," replies Dean. He pulls Sam out of the way and throws a punch at John. "You're still pissed, you can take it out on me."
John's still pissed, all right. Dean struggles to block the cascade of blows John sends his way, not even bothering to try to go on the offense because that's just a recipe for disaster. Dean lands a punch on John's chin, pulls it just slightly at the last minute, and John fights back with spped and strength he shouldn't have at his age. Dean's breathless and tired, his back is killing him and his abused shoulder is just about to give out. Still, he just tagged in, John'll kill him if he tags out so soon.
Dean ducks a high outside jab and snaps off a blow to John's stomach. John retaliates with a hard left hook that glances off Dean's bad shoulder and Dean lets out a cry that's cut off almost immediately due to lack of air. Dean collapses to the ground, curling on his side to try and relieve the pain, gasping for breath that doesn't come. He hears Sam shout but it sounds fuzzy and far away. The edges of his visual field start to darken and someone--Sam, he thinks--rolls him on his back. His whole right side, from his neck to his waist, is a hot, tight ball of agony. The darkness creeps in and Dean welcomes it, anything to escape the pain.
He wakes up to the chemical smell and bright white lights of a hospital. There's a weird whirring noise coming from somewhere beside him. He turns to look but all he sees is Sam jumping up from his seat. "Hey, you're awake!"
"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean tries to say, but it comes out a rasping wheeze. Sam grabs a cup of water with a straw from the bedside table and holds it up for Dean to drink. A couple sips later, he tries again. "What happened?"
"Your lung collapsed," Sam replies. "They put a chest tube in to re-inflate your lung, they said that might take a day or two."
Dean sighs. "Great. Where's Dad?"
Sam's eyes go dark. "I don't know and I don't care."
"Sammy--" Dean sighs. "Can you just, like, call a truce till I get out of here? Please?" Sam's much better at the puppy eyes than Dean, but Dean's no slouch. He turns the full force of his pathetic pout on Sam and Sam folds like a cheap suit.
"I think he's in the cafeteria. Want me to get him?"
"In a minute." Dean glances around the room, takes in the various monitors and the weird machine that must be re-inflating his lung. Jesus. He could have died.
"I almost died, didn't I?" Dean asks quietly.
Sam nods, takes a deep breath. "Yeah, you did. Dad didn't even want to wait for the ambulance, he just threw you in the back of the car and drove here like a bat out of hell." Sam looks down at the floor. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For pissing Dad off. Making him want to take it out on you. It's all my fault."
"It's not your fault," replies Dean. "You couldn't have known. Hell, I didn't know. I felt fine up until I got back from running."
Sam sniffles and turns back to Dean. "Really?"
"Really." Dean grins. "And hey, it's not so bad. Cute nurses, sponge baths, getting waited on hand and foot for a few days...could be worse."
As if on cue, a hot blonde in pigtails and a purple scrub shirt with pink hearts walks in. Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam as if to say "See? What'd I tell you?" Sam laughs.
Yeah, it could be worse.