Author note: So in my tradition of taking out any of my frustrations on Dean, my back hurts so I have to torture him. No plot, just whump.
Dean cried out and arched away from Sam's hands. "Dean, easy man."
"Sammy," he panted. "I can't. I can't."
"Yes you can, Dean. Deep breaths."
Dean's eyes closed and his jaw trembled.
Sam's brows knitted together. "You can get through this. Easy buddy."
Dean had stopped breathing, holding his breath as a spasm passed through his lower back.
"Hey." Sam admonished. He set his hand over his brother's stomach.
Dean slapped it away. "Stop fucking touching me!"
He was pouring sweat. He gripped Sam's shoulder suddenly and his mouth drew into a rictus snarl of pain.
Sam sat patiently. "It's okay, dude."
"Sam. I can't. I can't."
Sam's brows knitted together. "You can. It's a kidney stone. They hurt like hell but it will pass."
Dean darted for the bathroom suddenly and Sam could hear him throwing up violently. Each heave caught on a whimper.
He gave him a few minutes and then followed him in. Dean was crouched on the floor supporting himself weakly with one hand against the edge of the bathtub.
Sam pulled him up by the arm. "Come on. Let's get you down on the bed."
Dean yanked his arm away petulantly.
His balance swayed. Sam took him again. "Stop being macho. It's not the time."
Dean couldn't walk. His bow legs were trembling, his weight entirely on Sam.
Sam helped him down. Dean went fetal for a moment, breathing in short gasps. "My balls are on fire."
"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm really sorry. I know it hurts really bad."
Dean grabbed his brother's shirt sleeve and yanked him so hard that Sam almost fell. "Sam. Sam. Sam." He whispered in supplication, almost like a mantra.
Sam sat down next to him. "I'm here. I promise I'm here."
"Don't leave." Dean whispered miserably.
Sam clapped a large hand over the back of Dean's neck. "Right here, buddy. Never leaving you."
"Fuck."
"Want me to call Ellis?"
"No."
"She is good at dealing with this kind of crap."
"Sam, shut up and stay."
"Okay." Sam went quiet and rubbed his brother between the shoulder blades. "You're okay. You are. I promise."
"Stop touching me," Dean snapped.
Sam took his hand away and sighed, squeezed the bridge of his nose. "So..." he dropped his hands into his lap. "You want me to stay but you don't want me to touch or talk to you...sounds legit."
"Shut up, Sam." Dean collapsed sideways onto the bed again, his feet hanging off the edge.
Sam rolled his eyes and said nothing. He observed Dean curled in pain for a few minutes. "What do you need me to do for you, man? Heating pad? Water? Meds?"
"Let me die." Dean ground out, his face sweating.
Sam shook his head and walked into the grimy little bathroom. He wet a hand towel and wrang it out. He came back and set the cool cloth on the back of his brother's bare neck.
Dean's face crumpled a little and Sam almost got the impression that he was on the verge of tears. Sam
stood quietly, observing. He had the courtesy to not acknowledge Dean's weakness.
The elder Winchester composed his features and steadied his voice. "You can go get something to eat...if...if you want."
Sam shook his head. He turned the towel over to the cool side and set it against Dean's neck again.
Dean jerked up abruptly and stumbled to the bathroom. The cloth fell in a sodden heap on the shag carpet.
He slammed the door and Sam heard him groan.
His stomach twisted. Dean in pain was worse than going through it himself in many ways.
Sam grabbed the cloth and settled onto the bed to wait, feeling utterly useless.
He could hear some distressed sounds and the toilet lid slamming. Dean opened the door, leaning heavily against the door frame.
Sam got up to help him. "Any luck?"
Dean waved off his brother's attempt to help him. He grimaced and pressed his knuckles into his back. "You can't die from this shit can you?"
"Actually, if it's too large to pass and it gets infected, yes."
Dean glared at him balefully. "What the hell, Sam? You're supposed to lie to me. Say 'no its gonna be okay' or somethin."
"I just told you that like a half hour ago and you slapped my hand and told me to shut up."
Dean looked at him petulantly. They continued the mute stare down for until Dean winced and curled back onto the bed.
"It's gonna be okay." Sam said softly.
Dean didn't say anything at first. Then quietly. "Is it though?"
And Sam knew he was talking about more than kidney stones.
"As long as we stick together... I mean as long as we're brothers, sure."
"Yeah." Dean fell quiet and Sam saw his body relax as if the pain had ebbed for a moment. He stood up and limped to the bathroom again. "Pissing every two minutes is gonna get old fast."
He was gone for a long time. Long enough for Sam to have settled into the beaten chair with a book and start to doze.
Swearing startled him awake.
"Dean?" He asked, on high alert. "Dean?" He rapped on the door.
There was no answer. "Hey I'm coming in." He hesitantly cracked open the door. Dean was leaning against the countertop panting. He looked exhausted but not in pain. His face was red. His forehead beaded with sweat. "I think I gave birth to a cherry pit covered in razor blades."
Sam winced. "Yeah... thanks for the visual. You gonna be okay?"
Dean nodded shakily. "I feel way better. I'm just really tired."
Sam nodded.
He looked at his brother again and then wordlessly went and took his arm. Dean didn't fight him. He leaned against Sam's shoulder and limped wearily to the bed.
His brother taking the weight.