Multum In Parvo (SPN fanfic) 6/7
Title: Multum In Parvo
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester
Rating: PG-13
The room was quiet for a moment, the sounds of the monitors and the television blocking out the noise in the hallway. When Sam had barreled after Sean Riggan, Dean guessed his brother meant to ask about more than the upcoming tests. Before he could worry too much, a nurse came in and pulled the IV and unhooked him from the monitors. Dean sighed, he really hated IVs, they told him they shouldn't hurt once they were in, and he always felt them. And of course, after they had blown his vein, he was more aware of the new line than usual. Once she left, he slid out of bed and stepped carefully over to the cabinet where Sam had put his clothes.
“I wanted to talk to you about that protocol,” Dr. Willard said.
“What?” Dean turned, shocked that the man was back in his room after having both Riggan and Sam ask him to leave. Of course, the doctor probably didn't recognize what was actual, honest-to-god homicidal fury on Sam's face.
“I think you really should consider it, he has had good results with ...”
“I told you no.”
“He found that when you...” Willard went on as if Dean hadn't said a word.
“No.” Dean tried to keep his voice firm, but his chest was starting to really hurt again. Willard took a step towards him. “NO!” Dean shouted.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Sam's voice was dangerously calm.
“I am concerned about...” Willard started, but finally the look on Sam's face registered in his brain. The man went white. “I was just...”
“I believe you were told to leave,” Sean said, entering the room. “The patient told you, his caregiver told you, I told you.”
“I wanted him to know that I believe his current...” Willard stammered. “And he was doing better, I'd started the...”
“You what?” Sam and Sean said together, Sean's voice reflecting professional horror, Sam's... Dean didn't want to think what was in Sam's voice.
“Get out,” Sean said, pointing to the door. “Do you want to file a grievance?”
“Yes,” Dean said quietly. He looked Willard straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”
Willard huffed, but after opening his mouth several times, he snapped it closed and left without another word. Sam shifted so he could watch down the hallway, Dean wondered what was going on in his brother's head. That wasn't exactly true, he knew what Sam was thinking, because Dean knew what he would do if their roles were reversed. He just hoped it was nothing so serious that Sam would get in trouble.
“You are all signed out. I'll escort you down to outpatient, just in case,” Sean said with a smile.
“What was he giving me?”
“Erythromycin, they didn't tell you?” the doctor frowned at Dean.
“Nope, not me. Sammy?”
“Why would they be giving you that?”
“I guess that answers the question,” Dean said, looking at Sean. “Do you know what he was talking about?”
“Yes, I read the research, and like Brian, I disagree. I'm sure he discussed both drugs with you.”
“We covered all of them.” Dean sighed.
“I'm on pretty much the same thing as you are, and it works for me most of the time.”
“Most?” Sam asked.
“Nothing works all the time,” Sean said with a grimace. He punched the button on the elevator with more force than was needed. “I am really sorry about Willard.”
“It's okay. I don't have to deal with him again.” Dean stepped into the elevator, relaxing a little as the doors closed. He might need more tests, but getting released was something.
When the elevator stopped, Sean led them down a long corridor, past a glassed in fountain and into another section of the hospital. There was a reception desk in dark walnut and a pretty blond sitting behind the desk. Sean smiled at her. “This is the patient I called about. Dean.”
“We're all ready for him. I just need him to sign these forms and we'll get him taken care of.”
“Thanks doc,” Sam said, smiling at Sean.
“I'll see you both tomorrow. I'll hold you to your promise, Sam, and remember twenty-four hours is a long time.”
“Yeah.” Sam glanced and Dean, then back to the doctor.
Dean didn't even want to guess what that meant. He signed the papers and swallowed down the nerves that were suddenly flaring. His chest was aching more and more as the morphine was working out of his system. Plus, every time I get a test lately it's just bad news. Scratch that, my heart is okay. So that's good. He handed the papers back to her.
“Dean?” a gray-haired woman in bright pink scrubs was standing by a door that led back behind the reception desk.
“That's me.” He took a deep breath, wondering if he should just ask Sam to …
“Can I come back?” Sam asked.
“Is that okay with you, Dean?” the woman asked.
“Yeah,” Dean answered trying to sound like it was a hassle, he even tried rolling his eyes at Sam-but he couldn't fool his brother. Sam was frowning, the little curls visible between his eyebrows in a full protective squinch.
“My name is Nilda,” she said as she led them back. “I'll be doing the tests today.”
“Awesome.” Dean sighed. “Sorry.”
“It's okay. I heard you had a run-in with Dr. Willard.”
“News travels fast,” Sam said, almost on Dean's heels.
“It's not the first time it's happened,” Nilda said, opening a door and gesturing them in. “Dean you need to sit on the bed for me and...”
“Sam.”
“Sam, you can sit here.” She pointed to a small plastic chair. Dean grinned at his brother as Sam tried to fold himself into the tiny chair. “They aren't really one size fits all are they?” she asked with a laugh.
Dean laughed as he sat on the bed. There was a computer monitor to his left and a sink with a set of drawers in front of him. Sitting on the counter beside the sink was a tray with what looked like two thin snakes that had swallowed a rosary. One had gotten a hold of larger beads. I wonder how many people think of that when they see those? Beside the snakes were two bottles, one with a spray cap and two giant cotton swabs.
“Okay,” Nilda said. “I am going to numb you down a little to make this easier.” She picked up one of the swabs and smeared goo from one of the bottles on it.
“That really doesn't look easy.” Dean tried to joke, but the swab was headed for his nose.
“Tilt your head a little, honey.”
He did as he was told and ground his teeth together as the local aesthetic burned in the back of his nose and the swab felt like it was headed straight into his brain. He grabbed a fistful of the sheet on the bed and held on, breathing slowly, hoping he wasn't letting on how freaked he was. She pulled out the swab and he breathed a little easier, until she picked up the other one and he had to endure it again. By the time she was done he was shaking, more from the sensation of invasion than anything else, because he really couldn't feel much anymore.
“Now, open up, this will be simple, I'm just going to spray a little anesthetic in the back of your throat.”
“Okay.”
“Dean?” Sam said softly.
“I'm okay.”
“Sure.” Sam stood so Dean could see him easily.
“Now, I am going to put this in your nose and I need you to swallow it. I have some water to help with that,” Nilda said, picking up the snake with the bigger beads in it.
“Okay.” Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly then nodded. She started pushing the tub in his nose, he felt it hit the back and he started swallowing as she offered him a sip of water. The next instant he was choking, gagged and sprayed water all over her as she pulled the tube out. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don't worry, it's not the first time. Are you ready to try again?”
Dean nodded and this time he was ready for it, and managed to fight his gag reflex as he swallowed the tube. It seemed to go on forever, and it was hard to get over the idea that it was going into his esophagus and not into a lung. When that thought would flit through his head a little spark of panic would squeeze his chest. He clamped down on the emotion and swallowed again.
“There you go, perfect. I guess we should have tried that from the start.” She smiled. “Now lay down on your left side for me and we will get started.”
Dean laid down, his heart was starting to pound and his breathing was a little harsh. Not a panic attack, not now, this is a routine test. He tried to take a deep breath, only to be reminded of the tube in his nose. He closed his eyes, trying to get control, but it wasn't working-until he felt his brother's hand drop on his ankle. The contact grounded him. He opened his eyes and Sam was frowning at him, worry clearly written on his face and in his eyes.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
“Okay, this is Gatorade.” She picked up a blue syringe. Dean was glad it was the blue flavor, he really wasn't fond of it, and he doubted after all this was over he would be able to stomach it at all. She squirted a little in and Dean swallowed. And wow, that hurts. Sam squeezed his ankle. Nilda did something on the computer and then gave him a little more Gatorade. There were two syringes full and it took Dean three swallows to actually get the hang of a “correct” swallow. He gathered from what Nilda said he was doing something called “double swallowing” which was making the test more difficult for her.
“Good job, I'll let you rest for a moment.” She typed information into the computer, Dean watched, trying to make out what was on the screen, but all he could see were lines of deep purple. “Now, baby food. These are peaches.”
It was the same thing again, only swallowing the thicker substance was far harder than the Gatorade, and Dean's chest was really starting to hurt before it was done. The only thing that kept him going for the last five swallows was his brother's hand, grounding him, reminding him that he had backup-that he wasn't alone in this anymore. That made his throat hurt in an entirely different way. Which is totally because of the leftover drugs.
Finally, it was over and she had Dean sit up. Rather than moving back to his chair, Sam edged closer, leaning on the side of the bed. Dean noticed his brother did look away when Nilda pulled the tube out. When it was gone, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “That was fun.”
“That's what they all say,” Nilda said with a wink. “Now, number two. This one is smaller, and it's going to stay in overnight. You'll have this with you at all times.” She handed Dean a little box that had a series of buttons on it. “I've set it up to record the data the doctor asked for, so press one for chest pain, two for nausea and three when you belch. The other one that says 'diary' press that if anything else happens that we haven't made note of and you think we should know about. Then make a note. When you start eating press this and stop eating press this and then you can see the standing and lying down.”
“And the fun continues.”
“Yes.” She picked up the other tube. “This one isn't as big.” She started feeding it in and Dean managed to get it down without gagging once. She taped it in place on his face and then patted his shoulder. “We'll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, helping Dean off the bed.
Dean smiled at her as she walked with them to the front. “Thanks.”
Sam was quiet as they walked out the door. Dean could practically hear the gears turning in his brother's head. He started to take a deep breath and realized how uncomfortable that was, between the still present chest pains, now complicated by a tube down his throat. “Sammy...”
“Are you hungry, Dean?” Sam asked quietly. “Sean said you should eat, and, um...” He paused as they reached the Impala. “Would you like to see a movie or something?”
“What?” Dean knew he was staring, he honestly thought they were going to have “a talk” as soon as they cleared the building. Sam looked nearly frantic with worry, but was trying for a smile. “He did say something that would give me heartburn.”
Sam pulled out his phone. “We have Mexican, Thai and Indian nearby.”
Dean thought about it. Mexican was out, he'd never get the cheese down past the tube. “Well, Sean said he had Indian, let's go for that.”
Sam laughed. “It's almost a guarantee for heartburn.”
“For you, wimp.” Dean chuckled as he dropped into the car. “I fear no curry.”
“Except that one in Albuquerque,” Sam said, starting the engine.
“That wasn't curry, that was lava. I'm pretty sure about that.” Dean shifted trying to get comfortable, he doubted that was going to happen. The movement made his chest twist. He poked the button, it beeped.
“Which one was that?” Sam asked casually.
“Chest pain.”
“Okay.” Sam pulled out and headed down the road, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel out of time with the music. It was one of his habits that drove Dean nuts. It meant his brother was thinking hard about something and not really paying attention, and oddly, it was one thing that soulless Sam had never done. That man always kept time with the music. Huh.
A few minutes later they pulled up at the Indian restaurant. The rich scent of fenugreek and ginger wafted out onto the street. Dean got out and waited for Sam and they walked in together. There was a buffet along one wall. The waitress, a small Indian woman, motioned them towards a booth. They sat down and she brought them water. Sam opted for the buffet, and Dean asked for the house soup. After giving him one of those looks, Sam went to serve himself some food.
Dean sipped a little water. It was easier to swallow with this tube than the other, as he set the glass down he remembered he was supposed to let the monitor know when he was eating. He punched the button as Sam sat down and set a plate of naan and pappadum down in the center of the table. Dean picked up a piece of the bread and took a bite as he waited for the soup. Sam watched him for a moment, then started eating. The waitress brought Dean his soup and a small bowl of rice, refilled their water glasses and left. Sam was still eating in silence.
“They have mango pudding on the buffet,” Sam said with a smile.
“Really?”
“I'll sneak you a bowl when I get some.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Dean said, grinning. He didn't like mangoes in most forms, they fell into the “slimy” food group-to be avoided at all costs-but he'd discovered mango pudding at an Indian dive in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Oregon and had put it on the favorite foods list. It also seemed to be something he could tolerate no matter how bad the...
“Do you want to see a movie?”
Dean sighed. He hadn't been to a movie since before Sam fell into the Pit. He'd tried to go with Ben, he'd even gone as far as getting the tickets and walking in the movie house-then the smell of popcorn would hit him and remind him of afternoons spent at the movies with Sam, sneaking between theaters and getting refills on the massive buckets of popcorn. He'd ended up leaving Ben and his friends there and waited it out in the car. The next time, he'd just driven the boys to the movies and got them tickets. He couldn't go in, it was just too hard. Too many memories that he just couldn't get past.
“Dean?” Sam's voice cut into the memories.
“Is there anything worth seeing?”Dean asked, shoving the memories away.
Sam pulled out his phone again and smiled, shaking his head. “Nope.”
“What?”
“Nothing you'd like, just chick flicks and nope.” Sam grinned.
“I have a tube up my nose,” Dean said pathetically, then trying his imitation of Sam's puppy dog look.
“You probably don't even want to see 'Thor'.”
“In 3-D?” Dean asked.
“In Real-D,” Sam corrected him.
“Fine, in some D that makes it better than real life no matter how bad the movie?”
“Yeah.”
“When does it start?”
“An hour,” Sam said, tucking his phone away.
“Just enough time to eat pudding and head out.”
As they finished the meal, Dean was aware of the tension in his brother. Sam got up and made one last pass at the buffet table, returning with two small bowls of bright orange pudding. Dean took a bite and let the sweet, fruity pudding slide down his sore throat. I wonder if it's okay to use some anesthetic throat spray?
“We should have asked if you could use an anesthetic spray,” Sam said, frowning at him.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
Dean couldn't help grinning. It had been far too long since they had been that in tune. The year that Sam had been gone, and then the time with the man that wasn't really his brother, still ached like an open wound. Knowing it was Sam, his Sam, sitting across the table from him made all the difference in the world, and suddenly all of it seemed more bearable. Lisa really had done her best, even the guys at work-though they didn't know the particulars-had been supportive once they had grasped something was going on, but it wasn't the same. As often as he had tried to convince himself it was, it just wasn't. There was a big difference between having support and that deep down in the bones feeling of knowing someone had your back against all that came. Most people never knew what that was like, Dean did. And it was there, sitting across from him, a frown curling on his forehead.
He took a deep breath. Sam deserved to know everything too. In fact, Dean realized with a shock, he wanted Sam to know. “Sammy,” he began, meeting his brother's eyes.
“Dean,” Sam said, stopping him. “We'll deal with that tomorrow. I promised Sean you'd take it easy today and I think that what you're going to tell me is not going to be easy.”
“No, it's not.”
“Then it can wait.”
Dean narrowed his eyes and frowned at his brother. “Christo.”
Sam laughed, his open genuine laugh. “No, Dean, I'm not letting you off the hook. Just for today.”
Chapter Seven
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester
Rating: PG-13
The room was quiet for a moment, the sounds of the monitors and the television blocking out the noise in the hallway. When Sam had barreled after Sean Riggan, Dean guessed his brother meant to ask about more than the upcoming tests. Before he could worry too much, a nurse came in and pulled the IV and unhooked him from the monitors. Dean sighed, he really hated IVs, they told him they shouldn't hurt once they were in, and he always felt them. And of course, after they had blown his vein, he was more aware of the new line than usual. Once she left, he slid out of bed and stepped carefully over to the cabinet where Sam had put his clothes.
“I wanted to talk to you about that protocol,” Dr. Willard said.
“What?” Dean turned, shocked that the man was back in his room after having both Riggan and Sam ask him to leave. Of course, the doctor probably didn't recognize what was actual, honest-to-god homicidal fury on Sam's face.
“I think you really should consider it, he has had good results with ...”
“I told you no.”
“He found that when you...” Willard went on as if Dean hadn't said a word.
“No.” Dean tried to keep his voice firm, but his chest was starting to really hurt again. Willard took a step towards him. “NO!” Dean shouted.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Sam's voice was dangerously calm.
“I am concerned about...” Willard started, but finally the look on Sam's face registered in his brain. The man went white. “I was just...”
“I believe you were told to leave,” Sean said, entering the room. “The patient told you, his caregiver told you, I told you.”
“I wanted him to know that I believe his current...” Willard stammered. “And he was doing better, I'd started the...”
“You what?” Sam and Sean said together, Sean's voice reflecting professional horror, Sam's... Dean didn't want to think what was in Sam's voice.
“Get out,” Sean said, pointing to the door. “Do you want to file a grievance?”
“Yes,” Dean said quietly. He looked Willard straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”
Willard huffed, but after opening his mouth several times, he snapped it closed and left without another word. Sam shifted so he could watch down the hallway, Dean wondered what was going on in his brother's head. That wasn't exactly true, he knew what Sam was thinking, because Dean knew what he would do if their roles were reversed. He just hoped it was nothing so serious that Sam would get in trouble.
“You are all signed out. I'll escort you down to outpatient, just in case,” Sean said with a smile.
“What was he giving me?”
“Erythromycin, they didn't tell you?” the doctor frowned at Dean.
“Nope, not me. Sammy?”
“Why would they be giving you that?”
“I guess that answers the question,” Dean said, looking at Sean. “Do you know what he was talking about?”
“Yes, I read the research, and like Brian, I disagree. I'm sure he discussed both drugs with you.”
“We covered all of them.” Dean sighed.
“I'm on pretty much the same thing as you are, and it works for me most of the time.”
“Most?” Sam asked.
“Nothing works all the time,” Sean said with a grimace. He punched the button on the elevator with more force than was needed. “I am really sorry about Willard.”
“It's okay. I don't have to deal with him again.” Dean stepped into the elevator, relaxing a little as the doors closed. He might need more tests, but getting released was something.
When the elevator stopped, Sean led them down a long corridor, past a glassed in fountain and into another section of the hospital. There was a reception desk in dark walnut and a pretty blond sitting behind the desk. Sean smiled at her. “This is the patient I called about. Dean.”
“We're all ready for him. I just need him to sign these forms and we'll get him taken care of.”
“Thanks doc,” Sam said, smiling at Sean.
“I'll see you both tomorrow. I'll hold you to your promise, Sam, and remember twenty-four hours is a long time.”
“Yeah.” Sam glanced and Dean, then back to the doctor.
Dean didn't even want to guess what that meant. He signed the papers and swallowed down the nerves that were suddenly flaring. His chest was aching more and more as the morphine was working out of his system. Plus, every time I get a test lately it's just bad news. Scratch that, my heart is okay. So that's good. He handed the papers back to her.
“Dean?” a gray-haired woman in bright pink scrubs was standing by a door that led back behind the reception desk.
“That's me.” He took a deep breath, wondering if he should just ask Sam to …
“Can I come back?” Sam asked.
“Is that okay with you, Dean?” the woman asked.
“Yeah,” Dean answered trying to sound like it was a hassle, he even tried rolling his eyes at Sam-but he couldn't fool his brother. Sam was frowning, the little curls visible between his eyebrows in a full protective squinch.
“My name is Nilda,” she said as she led them back. “I'll be doing the tests today.”
“Awesome.” Dean sighed. “Sorry.”
“It's okay. I heard you had a run-in with Dr. Willard.”
“News travels fast,” Sam said, almost on Dean's heels.
“It's not the first time it's happened,” Nilda said, opening a door and gesturing them in. “Dean you need to sit on the bed for me and...”
“Sam.”
“Sam, you can sit here.” She pointed to a small plastic chair. Dean grinned at his brother as Sam tried to fold himself into the tiny chair. “They aren't really one size fits all are they?” she asked with a laugh.
Dean laughed as he sat on the bed. There was a computer monitor to his left and a sink with a set of drawers in front of him. Sitting on the counter beside the sink was a tray with what looked like two thin snakes that had swallowed a rosary. One had gotten a hold of larger beads. I wonder how many people think of that when they see those? Beside the snakes were two bottles, one with a spray cap and two giant cotton swabs.
“Okay,” Nilda said. “I am going to numb you down a little to make this easier.” She picked up one of the swabs and smeared goo from one of the bottles on it.
“That really doesn't look easy.” Dean tried to joke, but the swab was headed for his nose.
“Tilt your head a little, honey.”
He did as he was told and ground his teeth together as the local aesthetic burned in the back of his nose and the swab felt like it was headed straight into his brain. He grabbed a fistful of the sheet on the bed and held on, breathing slowly, hoping he wasn't letting on how freaked he was. She pulled out the swab and he breathed a little easier, until she picked up the other one and he had to endure it again. By the time she was done he was shaking, more from the sensation of invasion than anything else, because he really couldn't feel much anymore.
“Now, open up, this will be simple, I'm just going to spray a little anesthetic in the back of your throat.”
“Okay.”
“Dean?” Sam said softly.
“I'm okay.”
“Sure.” Sam stood so Dean could see him easily.
“Now, I am going to put this in your nose and I need you to swallow it. I have some water to help with that,” Nilda said, picking up the snake with the bigger beads in it.
“Okay.” Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly then nodded. She started pushing the tub in his nose, he felt it hit the back and he started swallowing as she offered him a sip of water. The next instant he was choking, gagged and sprayed water all over her as she pulled the tube out. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Don't worry, it's not the first time. Are you ready to try again?”
Dean nodded and this time he was ready for it, and managed to fight his gag reflex as he swallowed the tube. It seemed to go on forever, and it was hard to get over the idea that it was going into his esophagus and not into a lung. When that thought would flit through his head a little spark of panic would squeeze his chest. He clamped down on the emotion and swallowed again.
“There you go, perfect. I guess we should have tried that from the start.” She smiled. “Now lay down on your left side for me and we will get started.”
Dean laid down, his heart was starting to pound and his breathing was a little harsh. Not a panic attack, not now, this is a routine test. He tried to take a deep breath, only to be reminded of the tube in his nose. He closed his eyes, trying to get control, but it wasn't working-until he felt his brother's hand drop on his ankle. The contact grounded him. He opened his eyes and Sam was frowning at him, worry clearly written on his face and in his eyes.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
“Okay, this is Gatorade.” She picked up a blue syringe. Dean was glad it was the blue flavor, he really wasn't fond of it, and he doubted after all this was over he would be able to stomach it at all. She squirted a little in and Dean swallowed. And wow, that hurts. Sam squeezed his ankle. Nilda did something on the computer and then gave him a little more Gatorade. There were two syringes full and it took Dean three swallows to actually get the hang of a “correct” swallow. He gathered from what Nilda said he was doing something called “double swallowing” which was making the test more difficult for her.
“Good job, I'll let you rest for a moment.” She typed information into the computer, Dean watched, trying to make out what was on the screen, but all he could see were lines of deep purple. “Now, baby food. These are peaches.”
It was the same thing again, only swallowing the thicker substance was far harder than the Gatorade, and Dean's chest was really starting to hurt before it was done. The only thing that kept him going for the last five swallows was his brother's hand, grounding him, reminding him that he had backup-that he wasn't alone in this anymore. That made his throat hurt in an entirely different way. Which is totally because of the leftover drugs.
Finally, it was over and she had Dean sit up. Rather than moving back to his chair, Sam edged closer, leaning on the side of the bed. Dean noticed his brother did look away when Nilda pulled the tube out. When it was gone, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “That was fun.”
“That's what they all say,” Nilda said with a wink. “Now, number two. This one is smaller, and it's going to stay in overnight. You'll have this with you at all times.” She handed Dean a little box that had a series of buttons on it. “I've set it up to record the data the doctor asked for, so press one for chest pain, two for nausea and three when you belch. The other one that says 'diary' press that if anything else happens that we haven't made note of and you think we should know about. Then make a note. When you start eating press this and stop eating press this and then you can see the standing and lying down.”
“And the fun continues.”
“Yes.” She picked up the other tube. “This one isn't as big.” She started feeding it in and Dean managed to get it down without gagging once. She taped it in place on his face and then patted his shoulder. “We'll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, helping Dean off the bed.
Dean smiled at her as she walked with them to the front. “Thanks.”
Sam was quiet as they walked out the door. Dean could practically hear the gears turning in his brother's head. He started to take a deep breath and realized how uncomfortable that was, between the still present chest pains, now complicated by a tube down his throat. “Sammy...”
“Are you hungry, Dean?” Sam asked quietly. “Sean said you should eat, and, um...” He paused as they reached the Impala. “Would you like to see a movie or something?”
“What?” Dean knew he was staring, he honestly thought they were going to have “a talk” as soon as they cleared the building. Sam looked nearly frantic with worry, but was trying for a smile. “He did say something that would give me heartburn.”
Sam pulled out his phone. “We have Mexican, Thai and Indian nearby.”
Dean thought about it. Mexican was out, he'd never get the cheese down past the tube. “Well, Sean said he had Indian, let's go for that.”
Sam laughed. “It's almost a guarantee for heartburn.”
“For you, wimp.” Dean chuckled as he dropped into the car. “I fear no curry.”
“Except that one in Albuquerque,” Sam said, starting the engine.
“That wasn't curry, that was lava. I'm pretty sure about that.” Dean shifted trying to get comfortable, he doubted that was going to happen. The movement made his chest twist. He poked the button, it beeped.
“Which one was that?” Sam asked casually.
“Chest pain.”
“Okay.” Sam pulled out and headed down the road, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel out of time with the music. It was one of his habits that drove Dean nuts. It meant his brother was thinking hard about something and not really paying attention, and oddly, it was one thing that soulless Sam had never done. That man always kept time with the music. Huh.
A few minutes later they pulled up at the Indian restaurant. The rich scent of fenugreek and ginger wafted out onto the street. Dean got out and waited for Sam and they walked in together. There was a buffet along one wall. The waitress, a small Indian woman, motioned them towards a booth. They sat down and she brought them water. Sam opted for the buffet, and Dean asked for the house soup. After giving him one of those looks, Sam went to serve himself some food.
Dean sipped a little water. It was easier to swallow with this tube than the other, as he set the glass down he remembered he was supposed to let the monitor know when he was eating. He punched the button as Sam sat down and set a plate of naan and pappadum down in the center of the table. Dean picked up a piece of the bread and took a bite as he waited for the soup. Sam watched him for a moment, then started eating. The waitress brought Dean his soup and a small bowl of rice, refilled their water glasses and left. Sam was still eating in silence.
“They have mango pudding on the buffet,” Sam said with a smile.
“Really?”
“I'll sneak you a bowl when I get some.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Dean said, grinning. He didn't like mangoes in most forms, they fell into the “slimy” food group-to be avoided at all costs-but he'd discovered mango pudding at an Indian dive in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Oregon and had put it on the favorite foods list. It also seemed to be something he could tolerate no matter how bad the...
“Do you want to see a movie?”
Dean sighed. He hadn't been to a movie since before Sam fell into the Pit. He'd tried to go with Ben, he'd even gone as far as getting the tickets and walking in the movie house-then the smell of popcorn would hit him and remind him of afternoons spent at the movies with Sam, sneaking between theaters and getting refills on the massive buckets of popcorn. He'd ended up leaving Ben and his friends there and waited it out in the car. The next time, he'd just driven the boys to the movies and got them tickets. He couldn't go in, it was just too hard. Too many memories that he just couldn't get past.
“Dean?” Sam's voice cut into the memories.
“Is there anything worth seeing?”Dean asked, shoving the memories away.
Sam pulled out his phone again and smiled, shaking his head. “Nope.”
“What?”
“Nothing you'd like, just chick flicks and nope.” Sam grinned.
“I have a tube up my nose,” Dean said pathetically, then trying his imitation of Sam's puppy dog look.
“You probably don't even want to see 'Thor'.”
“In 3-D?” Dean asked.
“In Real-D,” Sam corrected him.
“Fine, in some D that makes it better than real life no matter how bad the movie?”
“Yeah.”
“When does it start?”
“An hour,” Sam said, tucking his phone away.
“Just enough time to eat pudding and head out.”
As they finished the meal, Dean was aware of the tension in his brother. Sam got up and made one last pass at the buffet table, returning with two small bowls of bright orange pudding. Dean took a bite and let the sweet, fruity pudding slide down his sore throat. I wonder if it's okay to use some anesthetic throat spray?
“We should have asked if you could use an anesthetic spray,” Sam said, frowning at him.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
Dean couldn't help grinning. It had been far too long since they had been that in tune. The year that Sam had been gone, and then the time with the man that wasn't really his brother, still ached like an open wound. Knowing it was Sam, his Sam, sitting across the table from him made all the difference in the world, and suddenly all of it seemed more bearable. Lisa really had done her best, even the guys at work-though they didn't know the particulars-had been supportive once they had grasped something was going on, but it wasn't the same. As often as he had tried to convince himself it was, it just wasn't. There was a big difference between having support and that deep down in the bones feeling of knowing someone had your back against all that came. Most people never knew what that was like, Dean did. And it was there, sitting across from him, a frown curling on his forehead.
He took a deep breath. Sam deserved to know everything too. In fact, Dean realized with a shock, he wanted Sam to know. “Sammy,” he began, meeting his brother's eyes.
“Dean,” Sam said, stopping him. “We'll deal with that tomorrow. I promised Sean you'd take it easy today and I think that what you're going to tell me is not going to be easy.”
“No, it's not.”
“Then it can wait.”
Dean narrowed his eyes and frowned at his brother. “Christo.”
Sam laughed, his open genuine laugh. “No, Dean, I'm not letting you off the hook. Just for today.”
Chapter Seven