Disclaimer: The Winchester are no-ot mine!
A/N: This was written for a prompt over at hoodietime. Hope you enjoy it and have a Merry Christmas, if you celebrate!
Prompt: At the hospital Dean gets festive red and green stitches. He is not amused.
"The First Stitches of the Season"
Sam wearily ran a hand through his already mussed hair, leaving parts of it standing on end, which added to the bedraggled look he had going on. Over the den of the chaotic, crowded waiting room, he caught the faint sounds of someone complaining loudly from the cubicle a little ways down the hall. It only took seconds for Sam to identify Dean's dire tone and his steps quickened.
He had only been gone 10 minutes, tops, trying to wash the dried blood off of his hands, Sam couldn't imagine what could have upset his brother in those few minutes. When he left the freakishly, friendly doctor had been with Dean stitching closed the ugly, gash leaking dark, crimson ribbons down his arm. Sam dodged a flurry of frazzled nurses and rounded the curtain just as an unattended, wildly, flailing Dean let loose a horrendous sneeze, which snapped his head forward and caused his loud complaints to cut off abruptly and a pitiful moan to take their place.
Sam rushed closer, steadying Dean as he teetered on the edge of the narrow bed. He quickly righted him before he could damage himself further, working to ease him back against the flattest excuse for a pillow Sam had ever seen. Dean, of course fought him all the way, wheezing and sniffing and grumbling as he was pushed down.
"What is the matter with you?", Sam muttered, trying to settle his upset sibling. "Did you run everyone off?" One flailing fist glanced off Sam's ear. With a frustrated growl, he manhandled his brother into submission. Demanding gruffly. "Would you just calm down."
Dean quit fighting abruptly and pointed angrily at his arm, where the shovel he had landed on had cut a deep groove across his bicep.
"Wha...?" Sam started to ask and then he just stared, shaking his head in bewilderment at the stitches marching across the swollen, freckled skin; red and green tracks, where there should have been basic black. He couldn't decide if he was disgusted or impressed with the doctor's apparent determination to be festive in the face of adversity. He was also curious as to how the doctor had even obtained sutures in those colors. When he looked back to his brother he saw by the scowl he wore that Dean had apparently made up his mind to be disgusted.
"It's, uh, Christmassy." Sam offered, along with a little shoulder rub of consolation.
With a disgruntled huff Dean retorted, "Christma... aaahh... uuhhh... sshuGGXX! ...assy?", which ended up sounding garbled and snotty after the latest sneeze.
Sam winced in sympathy reaching for the box of tissues on the cabinet, he pulled out a handful and placed them firmly in Dean's good hand. He decided that he never should have let Dean help him with the salt and burn, what with the cold he had brewing. Being out in the cold, damp air had certainly made it worse than it had been.
Dean frowned, bleary eyed at the wad of white tissues before shoving them at his shiny nose and blowing gustily. Sam watched the whole clumsy production, itching to help him do a more thorough job, especially when Dean wiped his reddening nose half-heartedly, then tossed the whole mess at the nearby trash can, missing it by a mile.
Sam heaved a sigh heavenward as he debated on whether to pick up the soggy clump of used tissues and dispose of them properly or pretend to be ignorant of the mess. Before he could make up his mind the doctor came hurrying back rambling on about Dean's prognosis and ended up stepping squarely in the middle of the afore mentioned tissues, sliding a little and almost falling down. Surprisingly, the doctor never paused in his delivery, quickly righting himself, his cheery smile never wavered and Sam decided that he was a little impressed with the freakish doctor after all.
Dean, however was still disgusted and was doing his best to let him know. The cold he had though, was getting in the way of the insults he was hurling and not even Sam's skill at deciphering his brother's "sickie talk" was able to make heads or tails of the gobbledygook that was spewing out of Dean's mouth. Between the blasting sneezes and the wheezy coughs he had developed in the last little while, it just sounded like he was having some kind of crazy cold induced fit.
A harried nurse soon joined the melee and between the three of them they got Dean medicated, bandaged and smiling, albeit loopily. Sam admitted that he was okay with any type of semi-happy brother for the time being, even if it was only temporary and only happiness derived by pain medication. Happy Dean was a good thing.
They left the madhouse soon there after with three prescriptions for more pain meds, an antibiotic, and an inhaler. He also had orders for Dean to keep his festive stitches dry and to stay in bed for the next few days in order to avoid the nasty cold turning into even nastier pneumonia. Loopy Dean smiled at everyone along the way to the exit and sneezed on anyone brave enough to get too close. Sam just smiled at Dean's antics, stopped to wipe his poor nose twice, and finally loaded him carefully into the Impala.
"Sammammmy..." Dean slurred, head against the headrest, turned toward Sam, eyes sparkling and slightly crossed.
Sam couldn't help but smile at his spacey brother as he answered. "What, Dean?"
"It's Chrissmass and I have red and green stitches." "It's Chrissmass and I have green and red stitches." He gave a nod that had his eyes fully crossing and continued, "Annn' I don't hate 'em no more, cuz they're fest...uhhuh...fe...hehhh...festiSHOOOGK KS!" He took a breath and blinked, "Pretty."
A soft chuckle escaped Sam as he agreed. "You sure do kiddo."
"And I... aaahh... I... huuuh... ISSHUUGGS!... love you." Dean finished with an obnoxious sniff and the special smile that Sam always associated with his happiest moments.
Swallowing around the sudden lump that had lodged in his throat, he answered softly, "Love you too Deano." Sam blinked back the tears that that bright smile had brought on and pulled his already half asleep brother over to rest against his thigh, so he could keep a close eye on him as he drove. Dean only mumbled what sounded like gibberish and snuggled Sam's leg like a beloved teddy bear. Giving Dean, who was already snoring congestedly, a fond pat, he sighed, started the engine and shifted into drive, just a normal holiday for the Winchesters; no Santa, no glad tidings, no cheer, just stitches, and morphine, and a few tears. He pointed her towards their temporary home and tried hard not to wish for some slight comfort in this season of supposed merriness. Maybe the new year would bring new beginnings... probably not. Sam mashed the gas pedal towards the floor and the engine roared loudly, drowning out his morose thoughts.
~The End Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you're so inclined.