Title: Secrets and Lies, Hustling Pool, part 3
Summery: The gods laugh when we make plans
Disclaimer: Not mine, but mine to toy with.
Relief flooded Dean when he reached the bathroom, he shut the door and locked it. Then he leaned against the sink so as not to fall down, he was shaking so badly. When he thought he could move again, he tried to get undressed, but it was too hard. He could not pull off his shirt or jeans because the dried blood had stuck them to his skin. Dean got into the shower fully clothed. He let the hot water splash over him hoping it would wash away all the ugliness and pain he felt. Dean peeled away the clothes when the water had softened the dried blood enough, took the soap and scrubbed at his skin. 'couldn't stop it, couldn't' The rectal bleeding had stopped and the hot water was helping with the soreness he felt all over.
Dean knew that it was Sam in the other room. He had replayed the words he said and thought it could only be Sam. Sam listened to him and did what he asked. The Other would have laughed and took what he wanted. Sam let him come into the bathroom alone knowing he needed privacy. Sam always wanted to help, the Other only wanted to hurt.
The water was running cold but he continued, he had to get clean. Dean could hear Sam's concerned voice calling from the other room, but he chose not to comprehend. He was too busy tring to get it off, it was still the clinging to him: the violation, the helplessness, the weakness.
When the soap was gone and the water was ice cold, Dean turned off the shower. Drying himself off he assessed the damage, 'it's not so bad.' Looking into the mirror he grimaced, with a depreciating chuckle, 'dude, you fugly.' He was avoiding thinking of what had happened. He realized that he did not bring his duffle with him. 'shit, i'm not ready' carefully opening the door, he looked around for Sam. What he found was that his duffle was right ouside the door with a note on top.
Dean - went to get food and bandages, be back soon - Sam
Sam did not want to leave Dean alone, but he knew that they did not have either. He had reluctantly left hoping to be back before Dean got out of the shower.
Dean blinked at the note and grabbed his stuff. He dressed in underwear and jeans leaving the shirt for later. He was very aware that Sam wanted to examine him, but he could not let those hands touch him again. What was he going to tell Sam? He knew they had a plan, but that did not go very well. This was something he was going to deal with on his own. There was no way he thought Sam could handle this. It would tear him apart. And no how was Dean going to burden him with this.
When Sam returned with coffee, food, and bandages, Dean was sitting on the bed nervously twisting his shirt. He played off his painful movements on the injuries to his ribs, which was not that far of a stretch. With as little touching as possible, he let Sam examine the head wounds and the ribs, but nothing else. He had in fact three broken ribs, which he told his little brother to wrap. No hospitals. And he had two loose teeth, but there was nothing they could do about them.
In the mean time, Dean had told Sam the story of how he was flirting with this chick at the bar where he was hustling pool. One thing lead to another and that lead to her jealous biker boyfriend telling Dean to beat it and showing him how to do it. It was a misunderstaning: he misunderstood that she was alone and she misunderstood that she was not alone, and biker dude misunderstood that pummeling does not get the offender out of town very fast.
A laugh. A wink. Conversation over.
