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3 of 5

Sam works his other hand up under Dean's t-shirt, fingers nudging clutching hands away so he can work on the knots.

"Nngh. Jesus Sam. Hurts." Breathless, gravelly, voice broken with pain.

"I'm sorry. This will help, you just gotta let me do it."

Ten gasping, panting, writhing minutes later Dean can feel improvement.

Twenty minutes, and a painkiller, he's finally dozing. Perhaps not comfortably, but it's better than where he was.

Sam cracks aching knuckles and moves to the laptop, maybe he can find something else that might help.

"Sam?" Barely a whisper, trying not to engage the aching muscles.

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