sorry, I keep thinking their longer than they are. I'm trying though. If you guys have any ideas or suggestions just leave a review or PM me.
Sam woke up with a start, jumping out of the chair he had slept on. He looked around, confused at the sunlight, then it hit him. He had fallen asleep, huh, he thought, must've dozed off while reliving such happy memories, he laughed a humorless laugh. He looked down, and saw Dean, still fast asleep on the bed, practically dead to the world. He looked so innocent, less stressed, when he sleeps, Sam noted. He frowned when he was brought back to checking Dean's injuries. He unwrapped the bandage the best he could while he was sleeping, and quickly re-wrapped it when he was finished. The burns would take a long while to heal, but they would, eventually. His brother's torso, however, looked a lot more worse. Dean was looking in fact, like a walking skeleton, every single bone from his jaw to his waist, could be seen. Every single one.
Sam quickly got dressed, wrote a note to his brother, and left to get some breakfast. He came back about an hour later, with many bags of food. He could hear someone in the bathroom, so just started taking the food out of the bags, placing it on the small kitchen table their room had.
" I got food," he said, when he heard the bathroom door open. He could hear Dean walk around behind him. When he turned to hand him a coffee, he froze.
Dean was digging around his clothes bag, wearing nothing but jeans, leaving his bare back facing Sam.
He back was even worse than his torso and front. On his back, there wasn't a single place on his back that didn't have a scar, or by the looks of some of them, burns. His entire spinal cord was showing, too. And that made Sam fell slightly sick to the stomach, he shouldn't be that skinny, not even close. Hell, it shouldn't even be that possible to be that skinny.
Dean turned back around, putting his t-shirt on in the process. It didn't help matters, though. If anything, it made his bones look more outlined, more highlighted, more noticeable. But Dean's eyes weren't on Sam, they were on the food. There was a lot, like, holy shit. It looked like his brother had bought a whole damned mini mart. Sam noticed his staring, and asked innocently enough,
" What?" Dean looked at him with a quizzical expression, and raised an eyebrow in the process. Sam shrugged.
" It looks like you bought a whole damn gas station, Sam,"
" So?" Dean rolled his eyes, his brother really was a weird one.
" So, it's not like we're gonna starve to death or something, " Sam wanted to protest to 'not anymore', but he simply stated the more obvious, and the one that's harder to deny.
" Dean, man, your like a walking skeleton, your underweight, too underweight for an eighteen year old, "
" I am not, Sam, I think you're overreacting," Sam suppressed a sigh, his brother really was a stubborn ass. Knowing words would never get to him, he simply walked over to Dean, and before he could protest, he lifted him up, off the ground. Dam yelped slightly, gripping Sam's arms so he would have some support if he fell. Sam set him back on the ground, and crossed his arms.
" I should NOT be able to lift you up that easily, your all muscle, and even then, you practically weigh the same as a little girl. Face it, your underweight," Sam just stared at Dean, waiting for him to say something. Eventually, he did. It just wasn't what Sam was hoping for.
" I'm fine, Sam. So maybe I am a little underweight" he was slightly cut off by Sam snorting at his words. ' A little' didn't even come close to being the right words. Nonetheless, Dean finished his sentence.
" But I'll be fine, hell I am fine. It's not a big deal," Sam just stared at his little brother. Then, he simply kept the conversation (more like interrogation) going. He wasn't going to drop this, this was dangerous, health wise. He knew that when he was eighteen, he weighed around 175 pounds. And that was average for someone with a build like him, mostly muscle, with not much, but still some fat. Dean though, Dean was all muscle and bones. That should get him in the 160's range, but he sure as hell wasn't in that range. Not by a long shot.
" How much do you weigh?" Dean groaned, rolling his eyes and sitting back down on the edge of his bed, now with a cup of black coffee in his hands.
" Are you serious? Sam I'm fine," this time Sam rolled his eyes, but still wouldn't let this go.
" No, you're not. When I was your age I was in the 175 range, even though I still had a good one foot and so many inches on you back then, you still should weigh about the same now, as I did back then," Sam was getting through to him, but only slightly. Dean still needed a little convincing.
" Look, all I'm asking for here is for you to let weigh you," at his little brother's incredulous look, he kept talking.
" There's a scale in the bathroom, just step on it and let me see how much you weigh, if you weigh enough fine. If you don't, you're going to eat that food," he jerked his head towards their dinky little kitchen table, which was now covered completely in grocery bags full of food. All with assortments of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Dean stared Sam down for a few moments, before sighing, shaking his head while dropping it down. He just sat. Here a few minutes, more than likely trying to get his thoughts together. When he seemed to have done just that, he looked back up at his brother. He raised as eyebrow.
" Your serious about this, aren't you?" he asked. Seriously not believing how bad his brother's overprotectiveness got sometimes. This was even worse than that one time when he was twelve. He had been in gym, and some kid was stupid enough to throw a weight in the air. It had landed right on his head. When he came to, he was in the nurse's office lying on a couch with a bandage over his head and an icepack over that. When suddenly Sam had burst through the room, eyes frantically searching until they caught and locked on to his slightly drowsy ones. In three long strides Sam was already kneeling in front if him, checking his injury over himself. The nurse had told him that he was going to be just fine, just a mild head concussion, but he seemed to have ignored her, only to continue checking him over. The school's nurse had also said that he would finish the school day just fine, but that just made her get a look from the eldest brother. Part angry, part relieved, but mostly incredulous. As if she was crazy to think he was going to finish the school day. Sam made that point by telling her so. After he had done that, he had signed Dean out himself, and practically carried him to the car. Even when they got to the motel they had stayed at, Sam didn't leave his side once. Not even to go to the bathroom, not really, anyway. He would stand outside the door and knock on it every thirteen seconds, (Dean had counted).
When he saw his brother nod his head, he sighed again, and simply, not wanting an argument, trudged his way to the bathroom, and stepped on the scale. As soon as he saw it stop on his weight, he knew for a fact he was screwed. There was nothing he could use to weigh it down more, and when he tapped on it, it sadly didn't change. Meaning it wasn't broken. He heard Sam coming and knew that he was soon going to be practically force-fed by him, as soon as Sam saw his weight.
Sam got to the bathroom to see his brother just staring at the scale he was standing on, that look on his face. The one that clearly said, I'm screwed, and there's nothing in here to help me prevent from being screwed. When Sam himself looked at the measurement of his brother's weight, he paled and sweat dropped. Jesus fucking Christ, how the hell is he only 99 fucking pounds?!