HOT SPOTS
Chapter 9
Sometimes, you have to experience the very worst before you can appreciate the very best.
xxxxx
Sam smiled, ignoring Dean's eyes boring into the back of his head as Ross left the room; there was a soft click and the door closed behind him.
He braced himself for the onslaught he knew would come.
Dean looked for all the world like he would bolt again, "dude;" he pleaded, "you gotta get me out of here."
"Dean," Sam sighed, "he's only going to give you a bath."
Dean's eyes widened in indignation; "Sam, exactly … He's. Going. To. Give. Me. A. Bath." He panted manically, "dude, I know how gay you can be, but surely even you can see that that's wrong in just about every way!" He clutched a fistful of Sam's shirtfront, reeling him in.
"How is it wrong?" Sam shrugged.
"Dudes do not bath other dudes; surely even you know that?" Dean folded his arms.
"I bathed you a few nights ago," Sam offered weakly, cringing at the thought.
"Yeah, well, you're blood," Dean replied, "and you only jus' qualify as a dude most of the time, so that don't count."
Sam took a long deep breath; "Dean, that man has been washing you and taking care of you from the moment you were admitted in this hospital; he's already seen everything you've got to offer."
Dean gagged at the thought, "this is different," he grunted.
"How?"
"It just is." Dean huffed petulantly.
Sam rolled his eyes; "great argument bro', ever thought about going into politics?"
"Shaddup;" came the response.
Dean looked up to Sam, with pleading eyes.
"Sam, you do it …"
Sam frowned, "Dean, I am not insulting the poor guy by doing his job for him." He rubbed a hand across his brow; "anyway, I'm still suffering PTSD flashbacks from the last time I had to bathe you."
"Well, tell him I don't need a bath…" Dean suggested hopefully.
"No way," replied Sam, wrinkling his nose, "I don't mean to be blunt or nothin', but man, you stink."
"But Sam, what if …"
Sam cut his brother off with a raised palm; "Dude, give it a rest. Ross is going to give you a bath." He planted his hands on his hips; "yeah, I know he's gay, and I know he's a little bit sweet on you; but the guy has a heart of gold and he's the best damn nurse I've ever met, so you're just gonna have to suck it up and deal with it."
Dean visibly wilted, realising the battle was lost; "Sam?"
"What?"
"Please don't use that word," he croaked.
xxxxx
It was about half an hour before Ross barrelled back through the door pushing a trolley; his familiar sunny smile lighting up the room.
"Ok, who's ready for a freshen up, huh?"
Sam stood up and moved to walk away, "Hi Ross, I'll jus …"
Dean's arm shot out and grabbed a fistful of denim at the crotch of the retreating jeans.
Doubling over, Sam gasped; "easy Dean, that's more than my Jeans you're gripping there."
He wormed out of Dean's grip; "I'll, uh, just go and grab a coffee …"
Dean watched, in wide eyed panic as he watched Sam disappear hastily through the door, closing it firmly behind him.
Ross smiled, and turned to his patient who was cowering behind the bedclothes.
"OK Dean, you don't have to be shy; we're both guys," Ross reassured with an understanding smile, "nothing you've got that I don't see in the mirror every morning, huh?" He quietly wrestled the bedclothes from Dean's iron grip and folded them down across his lap.
He reached round behind Dean's back and undid the gown, "let's get rid of this disgusting thing shall we, huh?" He pulled the gown off and screwed it up, shoving it onto the bottom shelf of the trolley, "I'm telling you buddy, yellow just isn't your colour, huh?"
Dean gave a tightlipped nod, blushing furiously as Ross fussed, laying a waterproof sheet on the bed behind him.
"Now, just lie back – and chill out, huh?"
He stepped back and shook his head, stifling a laugh as he looked at his patient lying before him as stiff as a board, eyes squeezed tightly shut ferociously gripping the plastic sheet beneath him.
xxxxx
Dean flinched as he felt a damp cloth sweep slowly and gently across his shoulders; a comforting warmth permeated the clenched muscles there.
"How's that Dean, not too hot, huh?"
"Uh, no, s'good," mumbled Dean, cringing as he felt the damp, soapy cloth sweep again, lower down across his chest, and under his arms before it was once again rinsed.
Ross worked gently and discreetly, taking great care not to aggravate the slowly fading rash and talking softly to his patient; "how's that feel, Dean, huh?" "you gotta tell me if it hurts, buddy, huh?" "tell me if you get cold, huh" "lift your arm for me, huh?"
Against all his instincts, Dean felt himself begin to relax under the soothing and confident touch; the warmth of the water, the comforting voice, the faint fragrance of the soap. Ross was quick to sense this also; he smiled as he felt the rock-hard knotted muscles in Dean's belly, soften and relax beneath his touch; "doin' good, buddy;" he encouraged, "why don't you just have a little nap there, huh?"
Dean felt the bedclothes being folded aside to give Ross access to his left leg, and drifted further and further into oblivion as the expert hands did their work, massaging and soothing aching muscles wasted and stiffened by days of inactivity. By the time Ross had folded the sheets across to wash Dean's right leg, he was sunk bonelessly into the pillows snoring peacefully.
xxxxx
There was a timid tap at the door, and it opened a crack. Sam peeped through the gap; "is it safe to come back?"
"Yeah, almost done; he's doin' fine," Ross replied with a smile, as he continued the therapeutic massage, gently working the Vitamin E oil into the healing skin down Dean's side, "uh, I think you might be in for a dull evening though, huh?" he grinned, "he's pretty much out for the count!"
Sam eyed the Stephen King novels and the Oreos; "oh, I'll get by," he smiled; "great job Ross!"
Ross finished his work, wiped his hands and pulled the bed sheets up over his peacefully sleeping patient. I'll give you a gown for him when he wakes up, you can slip that on him, huh?"
Sam sat down, tearing open the pack of Oreos, and offered one to Ross who took it with a smile; "I'm on a day off tomorrow, but I'll make sure to leave instructions for whoever is looking after him."
"So they do give you time off then?" Sam grinned a crumbly black grin.
"Oh they do occasionally, if I beg pathetically enough, huh?" Ross replied with a smile.
Sam laughed, "well if I was a hospital manager with a nurse as good as you, I'd make you work every single day!"
Ross laughed, and slapped Sam on the shoulder; "just try and stop him going over the wall before I get back, huh?"
xxxxx
It was mid-morning before Dean opened his eyes again to find Sam sitting beside him. "Hey there, dude, you've only slept for fourteen hours; I can see how traumatic that bath must have been!"
Dean looked around vacantly, and yawned, scratching his head as Sam looked on.
"How're you feelin', dude?"
Dean yawned, "better, I think…" Sam dared to think that maybe, he actually looked a bit better.
Dean shifted awkwardly, then lifted the sheets, taking a long look under them.
"Sammy, why am I naked?"
Sam got up, "Oh yeah, you nodded off during that terrifying bedbath." He reached down into the nightstand and pulled out the fresh gown. "Ross left this for me to give to you because he didn't want to wake you up."
Sam unfolded the powder blue robe; "look he even found you a blue one - said yellow wasn't your colour."
Dean rubbed his eyes wearily, and looked at the gown; nodding his approval at the blue over the yellow.
"Lets get you in it, don't want you scarin' the nurses away."
He helped Dean lean forward and slipped the robe off fastening it across his brother's back.
"Ross is off today," Sam muttered as he tied the fastener; "now don't get too excited, but you might get a lady nurse."
Dean smiled; "about friggin' time;" he yawned, laying back into the pillows, "bring it on."
He looked at Sam; "hungry Sammy, where's those Oreos?"
Sam looked sheepishly down at the floor, "uh guess I'll have to get some more …"
xxxxx
It was around an hour later that the door opened and a middle-aged nurse walked smartly through; thin and sharp-faced, her grey hair pulled back in a severe bun; she looked down at a hand-written piece of paper; "Mr. Wilton?" she asked efficiently, looking at Dean over small, horn-rimmed glasses.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Dean muttered hesitantly.
She turned to look down her nose at Sam, "and you are…?"
Sam glared at her, "I'm Sam Wilton, his brother."
"Okay;" she said economically; without looking at either brother; "Mr Wilton, I need to do some checks and take some blood, your brother will wait outside until I'm finished."
Dean looked up at her; "but he …"
"Now, I'm sure a strapping young man like you doesn't need someone to hold his hand during a simple medical procedure." She turned on her heel to face Sam; "now, if you wouldn't mind Mr. Wilton."
Sam stood open mouthed; "but …"
Seeing that his brother was about to argue, and not wanting to create a scene, particularly involving someone who was going to be pointing sharp objects in his vicinity, Dean reluctantly gestured toward the door; "S'okay dude," he muttered glumly; "this won't take long, better do as she says."
Sam's glare darkened and he shot a black look at the oblivious woman as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
The elderly nurse conducted her checks swiftly and efficiently; making notes of her patient's temperature, pulse and blood pressure then prepared her syringe, making no attempt to hide it until the last minute as Ross had done.
"Arm please," she demanded.
Dean offered his arm nervously; "I won't have any blood left if that Lawrence guy takes much more," he snorted in an attempt to lighten the situation.
"He'll take as much as he needs to confirm your recovery;" she responded dryly, preparing her equipment without looking Dean in the eye.
Dean huffed as she tightened the band around his arm and instructed him to make a fist, turning his head away as he felt the pinch of the needle.
The tiny pinch became a sharp sting and he flinched.
"Keep still" she barked, withdrawing the needle; "I'll need to try again, your veins are very poor."
Dean gritted his teeth, longing to tell her to stick her syringe up her ass and that Ross never had any problems with his 'poor' veins, but thought better of it as she grasped his wrist again.
He grimaced, finching again as the needle slipped into his arm again.
"Young man, you need to stop being such a baby, it's a simple procedure that will happen much more quickly if you stop moving around."
Dean swore under his breath, tears of painful frustration pricking his eyes as the woman made a third attempt at drawing the required blood.
"Friggin' sonofabitch" he grunted between clenched teeth.
Succeeding at the third attempt, she pressed a band-aid over the bleeding wound. "There now, all that unnecessary fuss over a little pinprick."
She smiled for the first time since entering the room. It was a charmless smile and Dean recoiled with a shudder; he decided he preferred her a lot more when she was being a hatchet-faced old boot.
Sam was eventually allowed back in the room, after a full 45 minutes of angrily pacing the corridor.
He stormed past her without acknowledgement as she left the room, ignoring the muttered comment of 'so rude' as he did so, and was appalled to find Dean sat on the bed looking paler than he had at any time after waking up.
Watery eyes looked up at Sam; "dude, we've ganked things that were more affectionate than that."
Sam smiled, "I was tempted man, so tempted!"
"She friggin' butchered my arm;" Dean groaned, pulling off the band aid to show Sam the purple bruising that was already blossoming across the crook of his elbow.
Sam's jaw clenched in anger. "Why would a sour old trout like that ever want to be a nurse?"
Dean huffed a bitter laugh, "well she's gone now."
"Yeah, and she's not damn-well comin' back; I'll see to that." Sam snorted angrily, heading towards the door.
Dean called after him, "hey, get me some friggin' Oreos while you're out there raising hell, Rambo."
Sam turned with a nod as he opened the door.
"Oh, and Sam"
"What?"
"You know, you should give that Ross a chance; he's a good guy."
Xxxxx
tbc
