No Glove, No Love
Title: No Glove, No Love
Summary: From a prompt at an ohsam comment-fic meme by kettle_o_fish. Sam gets an STD, and Dean is surprisingly good about it.
Characters: Sam 'n Dean.
Disclaimer: Some day, maybe...
Warnings: Language. Casual talk of sex/genitals/STDs, but nothing terribly explicit.
Word Count: 568
“Didn’t wrap it before you tapped it, huh?” Dean asks sympathetically from the doorway.
“Christ, Dean!” Sam exclaims, jumping about a foot in the air and shoving his junk back in his pants. “Get out!”
Dean rolls his eyes, but at least he turns around. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sammy. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Yeah, when I was, like, 10,” Sam retorts as he does up his zipper carefully. He’s glad Dean’s turned around so he doesn’t see his wince as everything down there is jarred painfully.
“I don’t think it’s changed much in 7 years,” Dean teases.
“Oh, screw you,” Sam says. A little bit of the pain must leak through into his voice, because Dean turns around again and frowns.
“What is it, Sammy?”
“What’s what?”
“What’s, you know, affected.”
Sam scrunches up his face. “Just leave me alone.”
“Not gonna happen. Trust me, this is not something you wanna mess around with.” Dean pauses, thinking. “They did teach sex ed in at least one of the schools we went to, right?”
“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, face reddening. “Use a condom, make sure she’s on the pill, all that stuff.”
“But nothing about STDs?”
“I said they told us to use condoms, didn’t I?”
“Well, that’ll help prevent them,” Dean admits, “but sometimes you get ‘em anyway. Shit sucks ass. They didn’t tell you how to treat them?”
Sam just shakes his head. If he tries to talk now, he’s pretty sure his voice’ll crack, and the last thing he needs is another thing to be embarrassed about.
Dean’s face softens. “I give you shit for a lotta crap, Sammy, but I’m not gonna give you shit for this. Not right now, at least.” Dean grins. “Ready for your second sex talk?”
He goes on to explain some basic -and some very explicit- descriptions of more STDs than Sam knew existed, from Hep B to syphilis to chlamydia. He talks easily, though. The relaxed tone helps convince Sam that maybe something off about his crotch isn’t the end of the world.
“So,” he says after describing the ninth or tenth one, “any of those sounding relevant?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sam admits. There’s still a pink tint to his cheeks, but Dean’s deliberate casual-ness has left him slightly more at ease. “The - uh. Herpes.”
Dean nods. “Yeah, I figured. You feel any sores in your mouth?”
Sam thinks, tonguing around the inside of his mouth. When his tongue hits a spot just next to his left canine, he yelps despite himself and brings a hand up to rub at his jaw.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean says, amusement trickling into his voice. A moment later, though, he grimaces, knowing what’s next. “All right, so mouth sores, check. What about on your dick?”
Sam swallows nervously. “Uh… yeah, a couple. Is that normal?”
“For an STD, yeah,” Dean reassures him. “All you gotta do is get some antibiotics from the doctor and it’ll clear up. I can take you tomorrow.” With that, he stands up and stretches theatrically.
Sam nods, hand unconsciously moving to cover his groin. “Thanks, Dean.”
“Hey, no problem. This gives me plenty of blackmail for future use anyway.” Dean gives him a shit-eating grin and claps him lightly on the shoulder before turning away. Before he leaves, though, Sam has one last thing to ask him.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, bud?”
“Please don’t tell Dad.”
Summary: From a prompt at an ohsam comment-fic meme by kettle_o_fish. Sam gets an STD, and Dean is surprisingly good about it.
Characters: Sam 'n Dean.
Disclaimer: Some day, maybe...
Warnings: Language. Casual talk of sex/genitals/STDs, but nothing terribly explicit.
Word Count: 568
“Didn’t wrap it before you tapped it, huh?” Dean asks sympathetically from the doorway.
“Christ, Dean!” Sam exclaims, jumping about a foot in the air and shoving his junk back in his pants. “Get out!”
Dean rolls his eyes, but at least he turns around. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sammy. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Yeah, when I was, like, 10,” Sam retorts as he does up his zipper carefully. He’s glad Dean’s turned around so he doesn’t see his wince as everything down there is jarred painfully.
“I don’t think it’s changed much in 7 years,” Dean teases.
“Oh, screw you,” Sam says. A little bit of the pain must leak through into his voice, because Dean turns around again and frowns.
“What is it, Sammy?”
“What’s what?”
“What’s, you know, affected.”
Sam scrunches up his face. “Just leave me alone.”
“Not gonna happen. Trust me, this is not something you wanna mess around with.” Dean pauses, thinking. “They did teach sex ed in at least one of the schools we went to, right?”
“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, face reddening. “Use a condom, make sure she’s on the pill, all that stuff.”
“But nothing about STDs?”
“I said they told us to use condoms, didn’t I?”
“Well, that’ll help prevent them,” Dean admits, “but sometimes you get ‘em anyway. Shit sucks ass. They didn’t tell you how to treat them?”
Sam just shakes his head. If he tries to talk now, he’s pretty sure his voice’ll crack, and the last thing he needs is another thing to be embarrassed about.
Dean’s face softens. “I give you shit for a lotta crap, Sammy, but I’m not gonna give you shit for this. Not right now, at least.” Dean grins. “Ready for your second sex talk?”
He goes on to explain some basic -and some very explicit- descriptions of more STDs than Sam knew existed, from Hep B to syphilis to chlamydia. He talks easily, though. The relaxed tone helps convince Sam that maybe something off about his crotch isn’t the end of the world.
“So,” he says after describing the ninth or tenth one, “any of those sounding relevant?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sam admits. There’s still a pink tint to his cheeks, but Dean’s deliberate casual-ness has left him slightly more at ease. “The - uh. Herpes.”
Dean nods. “Yeah, I figured. You feel any sores in your mouth?”
Sam thinks, tonguing around the inside of his mouth. When his tongue hits a spot just next to his left canine, he yelps despite himself and brings a hand up to rub at his jaw.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean says, amusement trickling into his voice. A moment later, though, he grimaces, knowing what’s next. “All right, so mouth sores, check. What about on your dick?”
Sam swallows nervously. “Uh… yeah, a couple. Is that normal?”
“For an STD, yeah,” Dean reassures him. “All you gotta do is get some antibiotics from the doctor and it’ll clear up. I can take you tomorrow.” With that, he stands up and stretches theatrically.
Sam nods, hand unconsciously moving to cover his groin. “Thanks, Dean.”
“Hey, no problem. This gives me plenty of blackmail for future use anyway.” Dean gives him a shit-eating grin and claps him lightly on the shoulder before turning away. Before he leaves, though, Sam has one last thing to ask him.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, bud?”
“Please don’t tell Dad.”