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Title: A Part of Me (Is a Part of You)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Hints of Dean Winchester/ Sam Winchester
Rating: R
Word Count: 3280
Warnings/Kinks: Hurt/Comfort, medical kink, anal insertion, caretaking, platonic love (+ subtext)

Summary: They're on the run from the Leviathans, squatting in an old house and Sam's running a fever. Unable to keep down any liquids or any medication that might help him, and most definitely unable to go to a hospital, Dean takes matters into his own hands and provides the care Sam needs. Neither of them is happy with that.

Sequel is: Stoop and Build (With Worn-out Tools)


The helplessness spills through Dean, and he can’t stop it, can’t help pushing fingers roughly through Sam’s hair, hates the heavy weight of his heart in his chest because Jesus he should fix this. This is his job, his only job and he can’t even get Sam to hold down a drink of water long enough to absorb some. Sam’s sweating, and shaking and every time he swallows a pill to help this it comes right back up again. and Dean is so tired of seeing those damn things that he wants to scream.

They’re hiding out again, lying low to throw the Leviathans off their track, and they can’t risk a hospital, not after the horrors in the last one. After three days of this though, Dean wanted to try, wanted to take the risk because God, Sam is going to die if this goes on, and Dean, he can’t fucking handle that. Can’t watch Sam die from whatever the fuck this is; infection or stomach bug, whatever without lifting a finger to help. The one time he tried though, almost wrestled Sam into the car, Sam fought him every inch of the way, begged him in a hoarse whisper leave it, it’ll get better, I promise Dean and it’s like he’s ten years old again, making promises he can’t possibly keep.

Sam was as weak as a kitten, his shove bounced off Dean, but he trembled and shook when Dean caught him, breath hot and rapid against his neck, and Dean closed his eyes breathed in deep, and cursed himself for a cowardly fool when he promised he wouldn’t make Sam go anywhere he doesn’t want to go, even though he knows all too well what could be waiting for them, that Sam even ill is being sensible with this.

They’re squatting of course, even the skeeziest motel won’t let them in looking like this, the last one threatened to call the cops on them when he offered cash up front, and it can’t be doing anything good for Sam. The blanket is new, the mattress isn’t, and the house is fucking falling down around their ears. When Sam opens his eyes this time, they’re fever-bright and glassy, and he tries to moisten his lips desperately with a mouth as dry as a bone. In vain hope Dean dribbles a little more water in, and for a second Sam keeps it down and Dean lets a tiny flicker of relief flame up in him, until Sam coughs it right back up again, the water running out the corners of his mouth, so weak he can’t raise a hand to wipe it away, and wrung with pity Dean uses his sleeve to get it, tries to avoid thinking of carrying baby Sammy out of the flames and wiping his drool away with the corner of the blanky he was wrapped in. Look how far they’ve come, he thinks and he wants to howl.

Sam’s eyes have fallen back shut and he is breathing fastly, shallowly with a nasty hitch in his chest that Dean doesn’t want to think about, and grabbing his jacket he stands, tugs Sam upright, but the other man is so limp he falls right back down, takes Dean with him, and he has to grin at that, makes a pitiful attempt at normality. “Your fault for being such a giant,” he grumbles, and debates leaving Sam. He’s as safe as he’s going to get here, and Dean’ll travel faster alone. He tugs the extra duvet he’d bought from Walmart over Sam, makes sure his phone is next to him, the two bottles of water and the pills if he wants to make another attempt while Dean is gone.

The first all-night pharmacy he comes to is a washout. An unhelpful clerk points him at a shelf of generic pills, and when he explains Sam can’t keep down anything at all, she offers him a homeopathic liquid remedy that she claims is sure to do the trick. He refuses and gets out, searches for what feels like miles until he finds another. This pharmacist is young and tired looking, and on a different day he might have hit on her just to see her smile. Tonight though, he just explains as fast as he can, feels her calm clear eyes measuring and evaluating him.

“You should take him to the ER,” she says finally. “It sounds like a stomach bug, but not keeping down water isn’t good news and he’s going to need to be on an IV sooner rather than later. At the very least take him to the doctor immediately.” He laughs, and it comes out low and cracked, and he realizes for the first time he must look like a madman.

"I can’t,” he says roughly, and clears his throat. “S-Simon is incredibly phobic of doctors and anything medical really. He’d never forgive me if I took him there, and I’d have to sedate him to do so. Please, isn’t there anything you can do?” he’s tired enough to beg, hopes that the desperation comes through, suspects it does from the softening around her mouth.

She’s away behind the counter for a few minutes, and Dean begins to entertain the worst suspicions. She’s in league with the Leviathans, somehow they’ve put out a general alert on them, and she’s contacting them right now. Or maybe she’s just suspicious of him, is calling the cops as he waits like a fool. He’s on the verge of walking out the door, then running when she finally comes back carrying two things. She’s clear when she tells him about their use, clinical and concise, repeating things until she’s sure he knows, and he’s glad there’s no-one waiting behind him.

The first thing she gives him is the Phenergan. “This isn’t over-the-counter,” she explains, and he understands what she’s saying, that she’s risking her job for a complete stranger who she doesn’t know from Adam. He doesn’t know why, can’t understand why she would, but she is. She looks at him directly. “I never do this,” she said, “and if it comes back to bite me in the ass I’ll probably deserve it. But I’m trusting you that you really badly need this, and that you can’t go to a doctor. It’s a suppository, designed as an anti-emetic. Once inserted it must remain in for twenty minutes at least to give it time to dissolve. With any luck when it takes effect, your brother will be able to hold water down, and his medication as well. When he’s reached that point give him one of these,” she held out a small bottle. “They’ll bring down his fever. Acetaminophen should help with that as well. If he gets any worse though, you have to take him to hospital. He could be having an allergic reaction, or have something really seriously wrong.”

Dean nods, takes the items and holds them as she explains the suppository. “You’re going to have to help him with it,” she says matter-of-factly. “If he hasn’t kept anything down in two days, he’s going to be too weak to do it himself, and you can’t afford for it not to be done properly. So listen carefully. On his side is best, one leg extended and the other pulled up. You’ll be best off using some lubricant if you have any handy, but not Vaseline. By this point for the love of dear God make sure you’ve washed your hands and put on some gloves,” she paused for a moment and added some disposable gloves to the pile, then went back to explaining. “When you insert it, it has to go right in. Well past the sphincter, so there’s no risk of it slipping out. Make him stay on his side, with his legs pressed together for at least a few minutes. Then give him a little bit of time and try him on the water.”

He can’t quite explain how this is actually slightly grosser to listen to than having monster-guts on his hands is, but Sam is depending on him to take this in, to remember every detail and he nods along. When she stops, he looks at her dead on. “Thank you,” he says simply, because there is nothing more to be said, and she nods at him. He pays over the amount in cash though it wipes out most of his readies, but something tells him it’s best to keep this completely off-card, and he suspects it’ll make it easier for her to sort it out. “How will you explain it?” he says, and a small smile lightens her face.

“I’ve a doctor-friend who can help,” she says and he nods. He knows the sort of friend she means, and he hopes bone-deep that things go okay for her. He understands a little now why she’d do this for him, gets that he does the same thing day in and day out, risks stuff for people he doesn’t know, because it’s usually the right thing to do, understands that this takes her own brand of personal strength to do. Maybe he's just not used to decent people, to someone offering something with no catches. He thanks her one more time, then slips out the door and gets back to Sam as fast as he can.

Sam’s no better when he gets back, still asleep, soaked in sweat. He doesn’t even shift when Dean walks back in, and it’s with a panic he hasn’t felt in what feels like a lifetime that Dean bends over him, looks for chest-movement. It’s there, and he’s filled with blinding relief, swamping him until he feels almost dizzy, light-headed himself. “C’mon,” he murmurs and strips off the blanket, rolls Sam over onto his side. “Wake up Sam,” he says, and waits. He’d found it so funny as a kid that when Dad told Sam to wake up, he’d roll back over for an extra five minutes sleep, but Dean could always get him up on the instant. He’d used to think it was just Sam finding another way to irritate their dad, but when the habit had stuck around he began to doubt it a little. He uses it now, watches Sam’s eyes flicker half-open, struggle to focus on Dean.

“Deannn,” he says and it’s slurred and soft. “Dun’t feel so good,” and that by itself is enough to tear Dean apart. Sam hasn’t sounded like this in so long, after everything they’ve been through he’s hardened like Dean, like he had to, given up on turning to his big brother for every answer and every need. The illusion is shattered when Sam drags himself upright, lets his chin drop on his chest for a moment then yanks it up. “We gotta move,” he says, and actually tries to stand. Dean could press him back with one finger, but he uses a hand and Sam sinks back.

“Going to make you feel better,” Dean says quietly. Sam looks at him then, manages to focus, and Dean turns him on one side. “Pants down,” he says, and Sam doesn’t question him, just undoes the zip with fumbling hands. That’s the hard part done thinks Dean with a little bit of humour, no easy way to take another dude’s pants off without alcohol. Sam doesn’t resist until Dean pulls them down all the way, then he rolls back over.

“What’re you doing?” he says, and Dean can’t quite pinpoint the look in his eyes. He thinks it might be fear.

He tries for reasonableness first, though he doubts Sam will take much of it in. “I’ve got to do this dude. You’re not getting any liquids, and you can’t keep your meds down. So this will help you.” And like that a switch is flipped, Sam gets what he’s talking about and he fights. Fights as best as he can, curls right up against the wall and wraps the blanket around himself, lashes out when Dean comes close. It feels fucking bizarre having to kneel beside your brother and convince him to do something you’d pay good money not to have to do to him, but this is for Sam. He’s not going to get better any other way and Dean can’t take seeing him in this kind of pain, he’s not going to let it continue like this. It’s something Sam doesn’t get a say in anymore, not after what happened last time he offered himself up.

With one strong arm he pins him down, stares into dilated frightened eyes, and waits. Waits for Sam to get it, that Dean isn’t going away. That Dean will never hurt him, that he’ll do anything for him including this, and eventually Sam quietens. His resistance isn’t gone, Dean knows him too well to believe that, but he's biding his time waiting for the right moment, and someday, one day Dean is going to ask exactly what happened to him, is going to listen until he gets an honest answer.

When he’s sure Sam’s not going to pull out a knife and fight him off, he goes back to getting ready, suppository in its little white covering by his side, pulling on the plastic gloves and worming them on, trying his hardest not to look at Sam’s face. He’d considered jury-rigging up some sort of sheet so Sam didn’t have to see him do this, so he could lie back and fever-nightmare himself into believing it was a doctor doing it, but some instinct told him that wouldn’t help, might send Sam over the edge, so he just doesn’t look, focuses on the physical, gets Sam back on his side, tugs down his boxers and for the first time hesitates. It’s weird doing this, but he doesn’t have a choice and Sam is co-operating for the moment which is a sight lot better than five minutes ago. The instant he tries though the tension is back, and Sam seizes right up, curls in on himself, and Dean wants to scream with frustration.

“You have to relax,” he says, and he can hear himself how stupid it sounds. Yeah sure Sammy, relax while I shove this up your ass when you’re feeling so weak you can’t stop me, but he has to give it a go. “Sammy, I need you to do this for me,” he attempts, comes close to begging for the second time tonight, and sees a miniscule flicker run through Sam. At least he’s awake and can understand. “Please,” he tries again, and this time there’s a shift towards him. Dean takes advantage of the opportunity, and with one hand holds him down while the other snatches up the tube of lube and gives it a quick squirt, then picks up the suppository and rips the cover off with his teeth. He feels an almost hysterical bubble of laughter rise up in him at the action. It’s not exactly ripping a condom open. The suppository falls into his hand, blunt and harmless looking, not as big as he’d thought, and it’s even awkward to hold. Sam is thrashing now, his temporary calm a lie, like Dean always knew it was, but he’s so easy to restrain, it’s so easy to push one hand down, feel the too hot smoothness of his skin, hipbone sharp and clear in a way it shouldn’t be, not after so few days, but what about this is ever the way it should be?

He sets the pill down, if he’s going to do this he’s going to do it right. The lube is splattered over Sam’s hole, and he uses a finger to push it in, slick up the entrance well enough that this should be easy even for a tight-ass like Sam, then leans over and sets the full weight of his torso on Sam’s side, presses his head down so Sam can only see him, only feel warmth and closeness, and lets his fingers press in the suppository. It comes right back out again, and Dean pauses, tries to find calm in himself, to remember what the pharmacist had said. He needed to push it right in, and make sure it stayed. Easier said than done, slippery fingers and slippery meds did not a good combination make, but eventually he got it back in, slid his finger inside with it, tried not to think about what he was doing, listening only to Sam’s short sharp breathing, the gulping swallows he was making like he was trying to hold back noises, doesn’t speak, because he doesn’t think he can say anything Sam wants to hear right now. At least he’s not fighting now, Dean doesn’t think he could take that.

The seconds tick by like minutes, and Dean cautiously pulls out, fairly sure it’s going to stay. It slides back out with him though, and he squeezes his eyes, bites his tongue and fumbles for a new one, changes gloves as well, he doesn’t want to mess up at this stage. Sam’s limp now, eyes shut like he’s ignoring this completely and has managed to fall asleep, but Dean knows he’s awake, knows it like he always does. This time it slides in easily, and he stays in for three minutes, counting it down silently in his head, listening to the soft thump of Sam’s heart for his measure, and this time when he leaves, the pill stays, and if God wasn’t such a fucking jerk Dean would be thanking him right now.

He strips off the gloves, and throws them aside, gets off Sam fully, and straightens his leg for him, pulls back over the blanket. “Dude, you’ve got to keep your legs together,” he says, and his own voice is rough and strange. “Like a virgin on prom-night remember.” Sam acts like he doesn’t hear him, but Dean’s pretty sure he tightens up. He hesitates, not sure whether to go or stay, maybe get some more juice or just drive and drive and find a place to be quiet in, where he can tilt his head back and just let this drain from him. Sam settles the matter for him, shifts over until his back is against the wall, the space a clear invitation.

Dean takes it up however little he wants to. This isn’t about him, or what he needs. He scrouches down awkwardly, this mattress was never designed for two, and he doesn’t want to touch Sam right now, not any more than the bland benign contact of knee against knee. He’s too warm, fully clothed, two blankets and the space-heater that’s Sam in front of him, but he doesn’t really want to move now either. If he stays like this, then Sam will and maybe that pill have a chance to do it’s work. At some point he falls asleep, a short nightmare filled doze, and he wakes up an hour later, and decides now is as good a time as any. With careful hands he tilts the bottle of water to Sam’s mouth, lets him take a swallow then takes it away and waits. Five minutes later it’s still down, and so are the pills Sam carefully took with more sips of water, lips already looking less dry and cracked, and Dean rolls over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling, because otherwise he’s going to say something really cringeworthy, the sort of thing that belongs in magazines that litter doctor’s waiting rooms.

Beside him Sam is asleep now, a better sleep than before, and Dean runs his hand once down his side, breathes in deep and keeps watch.


Sequel: Stoop and Build (With Worn-out Tools)


                                                                                               ______________


Regardless of when you're reading this, feedback/crit always appreciated.



Comments

( 28 comments — Leave a comment )
ash_carpenter
Oct. 23rd, 2012 08:34 pm (UTC)
Angsty and lovely. I really felt Dean's fear and need to help his brother, and how awful it must have been to force Sam into letting him help.
stripytights
Oct. 24th, 2012 04:52 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I'm so glad the emotions came across sufficiently.
sammichgirl
Oct. 23rd, 2012 11:03 pm (UTC)
What a great response to a prompt! So much love and care packed into something so terrifying for them both.
stripytights
Oct. 24th, 2012 04:52 pm (UTC)
Much obliged :) I'm really glad you liked it.
livejournal
Oct. 24th, 2012 03:38 am (UTC)
Edition #2,371
User heard_the_owl referenced to your post from Edition #2,371 saying: [...] by (Nc-17) A Part of Me (Is a Part of You) [...]
applegeuse
Oct. 24th, 2012 02:58 pm (UTC)
I really liked the way you described Dean's panic and his worry--so heartbreaking and scary and yet, Dean is so caring and dedicated. I love how he'll do anything--really anything--for Sam, how he's so steadfast and he just wants Sam to get better. He is a wonderful big brother. ♥
stripytights
Oct. 24th, 2012 06:19 pm (UTC)
A lovely comment thank you! I do imagine that Dean really would do anything for Sam, and it was interesting to push that idea so far.
gidgetgal9
Oct. 24th, 2012 03:29 pm (UTC)
Oh poor boys, the reality of their life is rough.
stripytights
Oct. 24th, 2012 06:19 pm (UTC)
It really is! Thanks for commenting :)
dont_hate_me01
Oct. 24th, 2012 07:15 pm (UTC)
Such great love and commentment from Dean towards Sam! Loved this fic, thanks for sharing!
stripytights
Oct. 25th, 2012 08:23 am (UTC)
Thank you very much, so glad the love came across!
deansdirtybb
Oct. 27th, 2012 04:21 am (UTC)
The way Dean will do whatever necessary to take care of his Sammy, no matter what it does to Dean himself always, always gets me. You so perfectly captured that here.
stripytights
Oct. 27th, 2012 12:42 pm (UTC)
Thank you! Really glad that came across strongly!
vicious_sanity
Oct. 28th, 2012 08:48 pm (UTC)
Oh, these boys. They care so deeply for each other. I could really feel Dean's anxiety and determination. He really would do anything for Sam. After going to Hell for him, you'd think this would be easy!

Sam's initial fight and lingering fear were so heartrending. The hints of darker reasons for his reactions were artfully supplied.

Really well done.
stripytights
Oct. 29th, 2012 01:42 pm (UTC)
Thank you v much, I guess sometimes the smaller things are harder to do than grand gestures. Also glad the darker reason behind Sam's resistence came across. Thanks again.
livejournal
Oct. 29th, 2012 11:27 pm (UTC)
OTP Weekly Recap: 10/29/2012: Edition #76
User lavishsqualor referenced to your post from OTP Weekly Recap: 10/29/2012: Edition #76 saying: [...] by A Part of Me (Is a Part of You) [...]
firesign10
Oct. 31st, 2012 02:52 am (UTC)
Oh man, what a tough little scene. Poor Sammy AND poor Dean!
stripytights
Oct. 31st, 2012 03:22 pm (UTC)
I know :( I always feel so sorry for them both. Thank you!
novakev
Oct. 31st, 2012 05:11 pm (UTC)
Poor boys, the things they have to do sometimes. But they will, anything to keep the other safe. Well done!
stripytights
Nov. 1st, 2012 02:48 am (UTC)
They definitely will! It's a strong bond they have. Thanks for commenting!
(Deleted comment)
stripytights
Nov. 17th, 2012 09:09 am (UTC)
Thank you! Can't believe I missed this, much appreciated.
texan77_83
Nov. 20th, 2012 06:26 am (UTC)
I loved this!! We know Dean would do anything for his Sammy and you sure showed this in your story. Very well written and believable! I love stuff like this, it is a kink, Dean helping a very vulnerable Sammy especially if Sammy is naked and he has to tend to him while he is vulnerable and naked. I loved it! I wish you could write another story real similar to this one or along those same lines. You captured Dean's strong emotional bond to Sammy that he would do anything for him, no questions asked. Thanks for a great read and look forward to more! I didn't want this to end...
stripytights
Nov. 21st, 2012 11:50 am (UTC)
So glad you enjoyed and thanks for such a nice review! I love the boys helping and caring for each other, being tough but allowing the other one to help if needed. I wrote a sequel to this story (and my other D/S story is on similar lines) both of which are on my masterlist. Thanks again!
rince1wind
Nov. 24th, 2012 03:10 pm (UTC)
Novel and unpleasant situation. It really would require a lot of love to do that. Good story.
stripytights
Nov. 24th, 2012 05:58 pm (UTC)
No matter how much they fight, they don't lack love. Thank you v much :)
(Anonymous)
Jul. 11th, 2015 10:18 pm (UTC)
How did I miss this all these years? It’s fantastic!

It perfectly encompasses a very specific kink of mine – being in an emergency situation that makes it (medically) necessary to shove things up the ass of someone you love (platonically).
Being a hardcore fanfic-reader I still wouldn’t have wondered if I had never found a fic that satisfies my strange kink and that’s also very well written.
But you did it and all I can say is thank you for this awesome fic.

I really like how subtle you bring across Dean’s desperation and his affection for his brother.
I also love that angst-filled and slightly melancholic tone you carry throughout the whole story, quenching my heart while I feel strangely aroused :D

Thank you so much for writing and sharing <3
I will make sure to check out your other stories now ;)

stripytights
Jul. 12th, 2015 08:31 pm (UTC)
Thanks for such a nice comment - and I'm very glad you found a story in this highly specific subsection! Really appreciate your kind words.
( 28 comments — Leave a comment )

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