Fic: Just Another Morning
My first fill for hc_bingo, in answer to the prompt "bruises." Nothing whatsoever to do with how I felt after Monday's Incident, which I will die of embarrassment if I need to explain. Gen, 505 words
Sam hated getting beaten on both sides of his body, and after the poltergeist managed to throw him against three different walls the night before, all sides of him were pretty well covered. His left kneecap was slightly swollen and showing shades of green and purple. It didn't feel like anything was torn, but Sam knew from experience that it would hurt to bend the joint for days until the swelling was gone. The equally deep bruise on his right hip was just high enough that coughing or laughing tugged at it, and the hip joint complained if he stood on it, or even bent it far enough to sit up properly. Lying flat on his back might have been comfortable if not for the strained muscles in his neck, probably from the second collision with a wall.
They'd returned from the hunt long after midnight, intending to grab just a few hours sleep before checkout time. But when Sam woke up, his sore joints and muscles had stiffened. As he moved toward the bathroom at something between a lurch and a shuffle, Dean scowled, put aside his packing, and ordered Sam to stay put while Dean went to "go take care of a few things."
Finally, Sam got the pillow folded just right to support his neck and settled back into the bed with a sigh. Then he reached for his laptop. First he tried to prop it on his chest, but that seemed to strain the neck muscles. Then he tried holding it over his head, and discovered a sore elbow.
So, there would not be laptopage this morning. Afternoon. Whatever. Dean had kindly left the remote within reach, and Sam turned on the TV. Static. Infomercial. Weather report. Some bizarre, terrifying, possibly drug-influenced thing apparently aimed at innocent toddlers. Static. Exercise program. Static, and, nope, only seven channels. Sam put it back to the weather report. Apparently it was going to be a hot one.
By the time the weatherman ran out of ways to warn people about heat illness and moved on to minor tropical storms in the South Pacific, Dean's key was turning in the lock.
A bottle of Advil was slammed down on the nightstand, quickly followed by water, coffee and a sandwich. As Sam ate, Dean wrapped up three ice packs and shoved them on as well.
With a warm dinner in his stomach and ice dulling the pain of his bruises, it didn't take long for Sam to return to sleep. When he woke again, it was dark outside, and Dean was snoring.
Sam got up quietly. His joints still ached, but the worst of the pain was gone, and as he moved around the room, his body loosed up quickly. A shower and a couple more Advil and he'd be good to go. Still, waiting out the pain in a bed was a lot easier than cramming himself into the car.
It wasn't the first time, nor the tenth, and it sure wouldn't be the last.
Sam hated getting beaten on both sides of his body, and after the poltergeist managed to throw him against three different walls the night before, all sides of him were pretty well covered. His left kneecap was slightly swollen and showing shades of green and purple. It didn't feel like anything was torn, but Sam knew from experience that it would hurt to bend the joint for days until the swelling was gone. The equally deep bruise on his right hip was just high enough that coughing or laughing tugged at it, and the hip joint complained if he stood on it, or even bent it far enough to sit up properly. Lying flat on his back might have been comfortable if not for the strained muscles in his neck, probably from the second collision with a wall.
They'd returned from the hunt long after midnight, intending to grab just a few hours sleep before checkout time. But when Sam woke up, his sore joints and muscles had stiffened. As he moved toward the bathroom at something between a lurch and a shuffle, Dean scowled, put aside his packing, and ordered Sam to stay put while Dean went to "go take care of a few things."
Finally, Sam got the pillow folded just right to support his neck and settled back into the bed with a sigh. Then he reached for his laptop. First he tried to prop it on his chest, but that seemed to strain the neck muscles. Then he tried holding it over his head, and discovered a sore elbow.
So, there would not be laptopage this morning. Afternoon. Whatever. Dean had kindly left the remote within reach, and Sam turned on the TV. Static. Infomercial. Weather report. Some bizarre, terrifying, possibly drug-influenced thing apparently aimed at innocent toddlers. Static. Exercise program. Static, and, nope, only seven channels. Sam put it back to the weather report. Apparently it was going to be a hot one.
By the time the weatherman ran out of ways to warn people about heat illness and moved on to minor tropical storms in the South Pacific, Dean's key was turning in the lock.
A bottle of Advil was slammed down on the nightstand, quickly followed by water, coffee and a sandwich. As Sam ate, Dean wrapped up three ice packs and shoved them on as well.
With a warm dinner in his stomach and ice dulling the pain of his bruises, it didn't take long for Sam to return to sleep. When he woke again, it was dark outside, and Dean was snoring.
Sam got up quietly. His joints still ached, but the worst of the pain was gone, and as he moved around the room, his body loosed up quickly. A shower and a couple more Advil and he'd be good to go. Still, waiting out the pain in a bed was a lot easier than cramming himself into the car.
It wasn't the first time, nor the tenth, and it sure wouldn't be the last.