Bobby tried to tell himself it was probably just a freak occurrence, just bad luck. Lord knew the boy had that in spades. Seeing as how Dean was protecting Sam and had wrecked Lancaster's car…no, it probably wasn't an accident. Sam had agreed and believed Lancaster was behind it when he'd asked. Sam said he was okay, so that was good. If Dean had a concussion the boy was going to be pissed as hell. Bobby wouldn't be able to take him on the hunt. Concussions tended to slow reaction time down, slow your thinking process, and if he were to take a second hit while still healing from the first…Bobby wouldn't risk his boy that way no matter how much belly-aching Dean did. He'd have to find someone else to back him up. If Dean wasn't up to denying going to the hospital, that also meant he wasn't going to school tomorrow and that wouldn't make him happy because odds were Sam would be, putting Sam on his own.

Bobby was mid-transit making a delivery so it took him over an hour to get to the restaurant and get Dean's car. Damn, what a mess it was. By the time he got it back to the salvage yard then got to the hospital it was almost three hours later.

They were still in the ER when Bobby got there. The doctor confirmed Dean had a mild concussion, had over a hundred stitches in his side, and a slightly sprained ankle but was otherwise okay except for the bruises he had covering half his body. Bobby found Sam at Dean's side, holding his hand of all things, looking worried as hell, and Dean was asleep. That told him right away Dean had a concussion 'cause that boy hated hospitals.

"Hi Sam," Bobby said softly. "How you doing."

The boy's head snapped up and it looked like the kid wanted to burst into tears. "He's got a…"

"I know kid, I already talked with the doctor. They want to keep him overnight for observation but I'm not going to let them. Dean doesn't like hospitals. I can watch over him and he'll do a lot better at home than here."

"It's my fault—" Sam started.

"Hush up. 'T'weren't your fault. You didn't do this, that Lancaster boy did. Dean and he have had their tangles before. You ain't nothing more than an excuse for that little bastard to take another shot at Dean. You fold and give in to Lancaster and that'll hurt Dean a helluva lot worse than any concussion." Bobby sat down next to Sam and asked softly, "You two, you 'n' Dean, you two together?"

Sam's eyes widened a little. "What?" he practically squeaked.

Bobby gave him a glare. "Don't be lying to me boy."

Sam saw right away where Dean got his death glare from. He started to shake his head, then sucked his lower lip in, chewing on it a moment before giving a tiny nod. "Kinda."

"Sponsoring?"

Giving a half shrug Sam mumbled, "Sorta but…but I…" he flushed, "I like being with him. Don't tell my parents," he begged.

Bobby clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, son. I won't. 'T ain't my business, but if things get more serious 'tween you two, I don't' want my boy charged with taking advantage of a minor by upset parents."

"He's not making me do anything--"

"Hush up. I know he wouldn't touch you if it didn't go both ways. And I know he'd look out for you even if you weren't together like that. Because that's the way my boy is. He don't give himself over easy to caring but he cares about you." Bobby gave the boy a one armed hug. "Stop your fretting. Dean's had a lot worse than this. He's going to be fine, so long as you don't turn your back on him and go to Lancaster, thinking you're protecting him. Lancaster will win and you both will lose."

"But—"

"Dean can handle a monster like Lancaster. He's handled worse. He just has to treat it like..." Bobby almost said 'a job' but didn't want to try to explain that to the boy, "like you're both in the cross hairs. If this doesn't drive you back to that evil son of a bitch, Lancaster will turn his focus elsewhere, judging that Dean isn't your weak spot. If he thinks he is, he won't let Dean be. He's hunting for your weakness and had a grudge against Dean in the first place so Dean was the place to start."

"My parents?" Sam asked hesitantly, "Do you think he'll try to do something to them?"

Bobby sighed. "I'll talk with them."

"Dad thinks Eric walks on water."

"Demons are good at putting on a pretty face. I'll handle it Sam," Bobby assured him, figuring he best start with Keiko. It was going to be sticky no matter how he approached it. "Doctor said as soon as Dean wakes up, we can take him home, but let's let him sleep for now. Doctor really wants him here a few more hours since he's not staying overnight. You called your parents?"

Sam shook his head.

"All right, I'll step out and call your mother." Seeing the boy start to interrupt he said, "I already got her number. You just stay here with Dean. I'm going to go his prescriptions filled. I'll be back soon. If Dean wakes up 'fore I get back, just tell him we'll be heading home soon, that he's not staying here unless he pukes or gets worse."

"Okay. Thanks Bobby," Sam said. Bobby's words about what Eric was doing made sense and he realized if he did go back to Eric, Dean would still be in danger. Any little thing Sam fought against, Eric would just threaten Dean and he would have Sam by the shorthairs. This way was better. He didn't like it, but it was better. He also wondered if Dean was going to kill him for him admitting to Bobby that he and Dean were…together. Obviously it wasn't a surprise to the man, he had asked, so Bobby must already know Dean went either way. It was actually kind of a relief.

He picked back up one of this text books that he'd set aside an hour ago and began reading again, giving Dean's hand a light squeeze.

The cold antiseptic smell he would recognize anywhere told him he was in a hospital before Dean even opened his eyes. Though the fact that he didn’t remember why or how he’d gotten here alarmed Dean for a moment. His eyes snapping open and looking around wildly in confusion before his gaze settled on Sam sitting next to his hospital bed and everything rushed back.

Going out to lunch with Sam, the car that had tried to run him down, that ass wipe Lancaster probably behind it…

“Hey…” Dean muttered as he forced himself to relax back in his bed. Not that he could ever really relax lying in a fucking hospital bed, but he didn’t want to alarm Sam.

Though to be honest, he was a little surprised that the younger boy was there. He would have thought that after they got to the hospital that Sam would have called his parents and they would have come to pick him up by now.

How long had he been here? He didn’t remember getting here, so he must have passed out again in the ambulance. It was still daytime, judging by the light coming through the window trying to burn his eyes out of his sockets, so it couldn’t be that long. Unless it was the next day… but surely Sam wouldn’t have stayed by his bed all night… would he?

“How long have I been out?” Dean managed, though his words caught a little in his dry throat. Dean’s eyes drifted down to the younger boy’s hand holding his, and he let his thumb brush gently across Sam’s knuckles.

Sam looked up when he heard the ragged gasp Dean made as his eyes fluttered open. He saw the moment of panic cross Dean's face until he laid eyes on Sam and he could practically see the memories click back into place followed by more confusion.

"Hey," Sam answered back, smiling and shutting the book in his lap as he set it aside. "Which time? You've kind of been in and out. You finally really fell asleep after they brought you back from the CAT scan or MRI or whatever they did. It's been almost four hours since you got hit by the car. Bobby's been here and told me to tell you that you're not staying overnight even though they want you to. Unless you puke or something, then you're staying. He went to get you the prescriptions and should be back soon. You've got a concussion, sprained ankle, and a bunch of stitches in your side. And more bruises than I had last week."

He saw Dean glance at the IV. "Don't even think about taking it out. I wouldn't make any trouble for the doctors if you want to get out of here without any problems. Being combative and aggressive can be signs of a concussion and they might think you got worse and make you stay. Bobby didn't say if he got your car or not, but for as long as it took him to get here, I'm guessing he did."

Squeezing Dean's hand he said, "I'm glad you're awake. You were kind of freaking me out."

Four hours? Had Sam been here all that time? Well, obviously since he was still here, duh. Dean was glad to hear that he’d only been out for about four hours, rather than overnight. Though the fact that he couldn’t really remember those four hours was a bit troubling, losing four hours was better than losing a whole night, he supposed.

Dean was glad that Bobby was here and that apparently his car was taken care of. He knew that Bobby would have seen to that before coming here. The older man was nothing if not practical and Bobby wouldn’t have wanted his car to end up in impoundment or anything, especially with the hidden weapons rack in the trunk. While his car probably wouldn’t have been searched that thoroughly by the cops since he was the victim and all it was still better to be safe than sorry.

He was also really glad to hear that Bobby was taking him home and he wouldn’t have to stay here overnight. Bobby knew how much he fucking hated hospitals, and there was no reason for him to stay here. He had a bump on the head, some stitches, and bruises, he wasn’t dying or anything.

Dean glanced at the IV tube sticking out of his arm and frowned, trying to figure out the best way to take it out. The sooner it came out and the sooner he found his clothes so he could get out of the damned bed the sooner he could leave.

His eyes shifted back to Sam at the younger boy’s ‘warning’ and he frowned a little at his remark. He wasn’t being aggressive or combative, damn it. He didn’t even need a damned IV. Talk about overkill. Doctors probably just stuck it in him so that they could run up Bobby’s insurance as much as possible. Fuck, he hated hospitals.

Still, Dean left it alone. More because he knew if he started yanking stuff out Bobby might make a fuss and decide not to check him out after all. Even though Dean was technically an adult and didn’t need anyone’s permission to leave, he still needed a way to get home.

When Sam squeezed his hand Dean offered the younger boy a slight smile.

“Don’t worry. I’ve had worse.”

"Yeah, I've seen your scars. Well you have a new one now on your side. I can sign it if you'd like," Sam said, but gave him a half smile with it. "Really, Dude, if you wanted something to remember me by I could have gotten you something like a skin magazine. A lot less painful."

Sam looked over when Bobby entered the room. Bobby gave a nod to Sam then cocked an eyebrow at Dean. "Well, Sleeping Beauty is awake. I'll get the nurse to take care of removing the IV. You just stay in that bed until that's done. Sam, don't give him his clothes until the nurse takes out the IV." He gave his best glare at Dean to let him know he was not joking and there was no room for argument.

"What did Mom say?" Sam asked.

"Since you're not hurt, she said you could stay at our place until her or your dad gets off work. One of your parents will come get you then."

Sam gave a nod, relieved. He wanted to stay with Dean a while longer, just to make sure Dean was really going to be okay. Bobby turned and left and Sam grabbed the bag with Dean's clothes and set them in the chair beside him. "I never did get back my clothes from you, or give you back yours yet." He peeked inside the bag then gave Dean a grin. "Just checking."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes when Sam asked him if he wanted him to ‘sign’ his stitches.

“That’s a cast, dipshit.” He said affectionately, grinning a little when Sam mentioned getting him a skin magazine instead to remember him by. Dean almost replied that Sam could always give him a strip tease and let him take pictures if Sam really wanted to give him something to remember him by. Thankfully he didn’t because Bobby chose that moment to enter the room.

He rolled his eyes again when Bobby ordered him to stay in bed until the nurse could remove the IV. Giving him the same shit about getting up as Sam had, Jesus, he wasn’t a damned invalid. He would be fine. But Sam and Bobby both were acting like he was going to keel over any second or something. It was annoying.

Dean was glad though that Sam would be able to come back to the salvage yard with them instead of going home. School was probably out by now and Dean definitely didn’t want the younger boy at home alone after the shit Eric had pulled today.

When he saw Sam pick up the bag that obviously had his clothes in them, Dean sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit on the edge. For a moment he wished he hadn’t sat up so quickly but the dizziness passed quickly and he didn’t sway or feel like he was going to fall over, thank goodness.

“Why? You wanna see me in your underwear again?” Dean teased as he held out his hand to Sam. “Here, gimme my pants.”

Sam started to tell Dean to stay laying down, but it was too late. Dean was alredy sitting up and Sam was on his feet ready to catch Dean, afraid he was going to pass out again or something from sitting up like that. Jesus was he stubborn. He could tell it effected Dean, seeing a look of discomfort sweep over his face.

"You're the dipshit, dipshit. Don't you understand what stay laying down means? What if you fell out of bed and ripped out the IV or something, jerk? I've seen enough of you being bloody and on the ground today, okay?" Sam scolded him, working on learning that death glare and practicing on Dean in that moment.

That glare disappeared with Dean's comment. "I told you I liked you in those pants," Sam said, blushing a bit. "No, you're not getting your clothes until the nurse takes out the IV."

Sam dug out Dean's socks. "Let's start here. And let me do it. You don't need to be bending over with those stitches in your side and they've got your ankle wrapped anyhow. It'll be harder to get your sock on."

Dean only grinned and gave the younger boy his most innocent look when Sam glared at him and started bitching at him about sitting up. Yeah, it really sucked getting hit by a fucking car and ending up in the fucking hospital, even if only for a few hours, but it was kind of nice knowing just how much Sam cared about him.

He only grinned more when Sam admitted again that he’d liked seeing him in those tight ass pants, even blushing a little as he said it. Damn, if Sam only knew what he did to him when he blushed. Could the younger boy really blame him for wanting to keep Sam just for himself?

Though when Sam refused to give him his clothes Dean frowned a bit.

“Sam…” Dean started to complain then sighed and shook his head. He was really tempted to just rip out the damned IV himself and be done with it, but he knew that would only piss off the younger boy and Bobby, not to mention lessen his chances of getting out of here. Damn it, he was never going to win with both Sam and Bobby against him. They’d probably even make him sit in a damned wheel chair on the way out like some kind of cripple.

“Fine.” He finally agreed grudgingly when Sam offered to put his socks on for him. Yeah, he could do it himself, but his side already hurt from sitting up like this and he didn’t really want to make it worse by bending over.

When Sam came close though, Dean caught the younger boy’s wrist before he could kneel down and pulled him to stand between his legs instead.

“Hey… give me a kiss…” Dean asked, giving the younger boy a warm smile. Yeah, it was a bit risky, Bobby could be back any minute with the nurse, but he could really use a kiss right now.

Shocked hardly covered it when Dean agreed to let Sam help him. Okay, the senior was definitely hurting. Or being sensible? Nah. Hurting.

When Sam moved to start getting Dean's socks on him he was startled by Dean grabbing him and pulling him close. If Dean's grip hadn't been gentle Sam knew he probably would have freaked. Instead he stood there, looking into Dean's eyes, basking in that gaze that definitely held mischief. Here? When they knew people were coming in any minute? He glanced toward the door nervously.

Well, hell, he'd basically been naked in the back of Dean's car at the warehouse where a cop could have driven up at any time. And Bobby knew now. And the nurses and doctors had seen him sitting there holding Dean's hand. So…

Sam leaned forward and kissed him a little tentatively, almost shyly. He dropped the socks on the bed without really thinking about it as he ended the kiss, then kissed Dean again, a little more boldly, licking at the seam of Dean's lips and when Dean parted them in invitation, he invading the senior's mouth, tangling their tongues together for just a moment, then broke the kiss.

"We shouldn't…" Sam said licking his lips, feeling them still tingle from the kiss. "You shouldn't get excited. And I don't wanna have to walk out to Bobby's truck with my bookbag covering my crotch."

He grabbed the socks from the bed and knelt, working first one sock and then the other on to Dean's feet. He didn't miss how Dean spread his legs just a little. He glared at Dean, but this was a good natured glare. "I think you're just trying to get the blood to go south, to reduce the swelling from the concussion."

He wondered if Sam would do it. If the younger boy didn’t want to kiss him in ‘public’ Dean certainly wasn’t going to insist. The fact that the younger boy didn’t immediately tell him ‘hell no, not here’ was definitely promising, but if the younger boy waited too long to make his decision it would be too late.

Then Sam leaned in to give him the softest sweetest kiss and Dean couldn’t help but smile fondly at the younger boy even though that wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind. Sam was acting the epitome of a blushing virgin right now despite all that they had done, and it was kind of adorable.

The second kiss, that he honestly hadn’t been expecting, was definitely more what he had in mind and Dean moaned softly. Letting his hands settle on the younger boy’s hips as his lips parted, allowing Sam’s soft wet tongue in to play with his own. A soft sound of complaint escaping his throat when the younger boy pulled away even though Dean knew Sam was right. It was too risky doing anything more. Hell, it had been too risky even what they had.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh when Sam mentioned having to walk outside covering his crotch. Though when Sam knelt down in front of him to help him put on his socks, as promised, Dean felt his dick twitch a little even though he told it to behave itself. He couldn’t really help it though, how much had he been fantasizing about having Sam’s lips around his cock and now Sam was right there next to his crotch.

“I feel better already.” Dean replied to Sam’s accusation with a grin.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I can always drop an icepack between your legs if you don't behave," he threatened.

He was about to make another comment when the nurse walked in. She was late twenties and a bombshell of a redhead but Sam noticed she had on wedding ring. She wondered if she was Dean's type when it came to women.

"Hello Mr. Winchester. Good to see you're feeling better." She approached his arm with his IV and slowly and carefully removed it, smiling at him. She quickly placed a band aid with a cotton ball over the place where the needle had been inserted. She turned to the bed crank then and lowered it so Dean's long legs would reach the floor.

"Since you have a concussion I'm going to help you get your pants on and make certain you're able to stand. You'll still have to leave in a wheelchair, that's hospital policy, but we would like to make certain you can stand okay before you go."

Sam dug out Dean's pants and handed them to her. The paramedic was going to cut them off but Sam protested and the paramedic had reluctantly removed them intact.

"Your ankle," she said, "is lightly sprained. With the stitches you have, you can't use crutches. We've got a cane for you instead which I'll bring you when I bring in the wheelchair. You're supposed to stay off of your foot as much as possible for a week. The more you're on it, the longer it will take to heal. If you stay off of it, by the time your concussion is on its way to healing, you should be able to do light walking without the cane. If you're on it too much though, it will just swell back up again so don't push it. The doctor wants you on complete bed rest for two days, but you'll probably sleep most of that time anyhow. The third day, light activity only. Your guardian says you're still in school. You can return to school next Wednesday assuming you feel up to it, but no gym class for two weeks, maybe three, depending on how you're doing when you come back in to have the stitches removed."

She leaned over and got the pants legs on Dean and got them pulled up to his knees. "Okay, Mr. Winchester, put your hands on my shoulders." She glanced at Sam. "You're his brother?"

Sam shook his head, still digesting that Dean wasn't going to be in school for a week. Oh, he was fucking toast! "No, just a friend."

Her eyebrow lifted. She'd seen the way the younger boy had worried over her patient, seen him holding the older youth's hand. Friend. Yes. Of course he was. At least he wouldn't be too embarrassed to help. "When I get Dean on his feet, can you pull his pants up?"

Nodding, Sam moved to Dean's side, trying to keep the panic out of his eyes. It was going to be okay, he told himself. Dean was stubborn. He'd probably be back in school by Monday. That meant only three days. Yeah. Not so bad. Just three days of getting his ass kicked.

Fuck.

Dean only snorted softly when Sam threatened him with an icepack on his crotch. But since that didn’t sound pleasant at the moment and he really didn’t want to take the chance that the younger boy would make good on his threat, Dean decided to ‘behave’ himself.

For now at least.

When the nurse finally came in Dean turned his head and raised an appreciative eyebrow at the young woman. She had a great body and one hell of a rack. Just his luck the one time he got a really hot nurse he wasn’t going to be staying in the hospital. He probably could have talked her into giving him a really fun sponge bath or something.

“Thanks.” He replied as she took out the IV from his arm. Dean glanced at Sam and raised an eyebrow. He wondered if Sam liked what he saw. What was the younger boy’s taste in women? She definitely was the kind of woman he wouldn’t have minded sharing with Sam tomorrow night.

Unfortunately she was pretty much all business as she offered to help him get him back into his pants and explained to him what he ‘needed’ to do once he got out of the hospital. A cane? Well, fuck that. No fucking way he was using a cane. It was just a fucking sprain, he didn’t have his foot fucking amputated or anything.

There was also no fucking way he was going to be staying in bed for two damned days. A week home was also out of the fucking question. While normally he wouldn’t have given a damned about staying home from school for a week, in fact, he would have enjoyed any excuse to stay away from that fucking place. But since he had to look after Sam, there was no way he was letting the younger boy face Eric and his posse alone for a week.

Dean looked over at Sam again when she addressed him, saw the nervousness in the younger boy’s eyes, and tried to give him a reassuring look. He wasn’t going to leave Sam alone. No matter what she said, no matter what Bobby said either. He was going to school.

Trying to erase that fear in the younger boy’s expression when Sam came over to him, Dean gave him a slightly mischievous look as he put his hands on her slim shoulders as instructed.

“So, sweetheart, you really married or do you just wear that ring to keep your horny patients from hitting on you all the time?” Dean asked, giving her his best charming grin.

The reassurance that passed over Dean's face Sam considered a mere kindness. Certainly not a practicality. The senior had almost been run over! He needed to stay in bed and heal. Sam had to get a hold of himself and convince Dean he would be able to survive a few days without him. The closest bus stop to the salvage yard was a good two miles but he could still go over there after school if his parents didn't mind picking him up. Assuming he could manage to walk two miles once he was beat to hell and back again. No, he had to think positive…he was positive he was going to get his ass kicked tomorrow. That was in part the point of trying to run Dean down, after all. He managed a strained smile at least. He didn't think Dean bought it though.

Getting to Dean's side he gripped the waistband of Dean's pants and held them ready for the tall senior.

Smiling sweetly at Dean the nurse said. "Now if I just wore it to keep horny young men from hitting on me, it's obviously not very effective now is it? I've got a husband, a mortgage, two kids, and the stretch marks to prove it." She glanced over at the younger boy and seeing that he was set, helped Dean stand, gripping him his under his arms in case he became dizzy or even passed out.

As soon as Dean was on his feet, Sam pulled Dean's pants up, being especially careful of the zipper. H was really glad Dean hadn't gotten excited during their kiss or that would really be awkward to explain. Nah, Dean would just blame it on the nurse he was flirting with.

…and that didn't bother Sam at all. Nope. Not at all. Just because maybe he pulled Dean's pants up just a tad further than necessary before letting them settle back on Dean's hips and he buttoned them. He'd let Dean zip them.

Dean laughed warmly at the nurse’s reply, not the least bit upset really about being shot down. He normally didn’t like nurses too much but he liked her. She had a sense of humor at least. It was definitely too bad she was already taken and not the type to fool around. He bet she was a wildcat in bed.

Then she helped him get up… and Dean really wasn’t happy by just how much she actually had to help him keep his balance. His vision swam for a moment and he took a few deep breaths through his nose fighting off a wave of nausea that swept over him. There was no way he was throwing up on the hot nurse, for one, and certainly no way he was going to be sick and have to stay in this fucking hospital all night either. The pulling stitches in his side made him wince, bruises along his side also weren’t feeling all that great right now, and he couldn’t put much weight on his ankle at all.

Fuck…

Yeah. Ok. He felt like shit. He’d be fine by tomorrow though. He would be fine…

Sam tugging up his pants up a little higher and harder than necessary definitely distracted him a little bit from his discomfort and he gave the younger boy a slightly questioning look. Yup. Bitch face. What had he done? Sam wasn’t… jealous… was he? Dean smirked a little as Sam buttoned up his pants, letting go of the nurse once he was a little bit more certain of his balance and putting an arm around Sam instead for support.

If his fingers lingered a tad too long on the back of the younger boy’s neck he pretended not to notice as he zipped himself up.

The nurse watched Dean's face and prepared herself to get spewed on. The young man really ought to be kept over night, but the man who had been his guardian assured them that he would be able to take care of Dean and that if the young man's condition changed, he would bring him back in.

She was honestly surprised the handsome youth managed to stay on his feet, or foot rather since that ankle was obviously more tender than the man expected. She steadied him until he finally seemed something approaching stable, and she certainly didn't miss the little interaction between him and the younger boy. Bad form to flirt with someone else when your boyfriend was there and she had to bite back a laugh. Well, the almost wedgie served the young man right.

Once Dean let go of her she waited until he had his pants zipped up. "Okay, now sit back down and I'll go see if the paperwork is finished and get you your wheelchair. There's the trashcan if you decide you need to throw up. And thank you for not throwing up on me. I'm impressed and appreciate it."

Sam couldn't help but roll his head a little at Dean's light touch on his neck. Dammit, he'd told Dean to behave. But he also couldn't help the worry. He had heard the hiss that came from Dean when Dean tried to put weight on his ankle. He also saw how unsteady Dean was. He guessed he would be lucky if Dean was back in school before Wednesday after all.

Sam easily, well mostly easily, held Dean's weight and then helped ease the senior back onto the edge of the bed. Once he was settled, Sam grabbed the trashcan and brought it within easy reach. As soon as the nurse left, Sam planted a kiss on Dean's lips.

"You really ought to stay here tonight. I could see if maybe I could sit with you."

For once, Dean didn’t even think about arguing with the nurse’s instructions when she told him to sit down again glad to be off his feet. He even managed to give her a slight smile when she thanked him for not puking on her.

“Sure. No problem.” He replied and was glad for the younger boy’s help getting him sitting back on the edge of the bed without falling on his ass. Considering how his side hurt he certainly didn’t want to imagine what it would feel like to fall and possibly rip out some of those stitches. That would suck. Big time.

He only swayed a little bit when Sam released him to go get the trash can that the nurse mentioned and brought it closer, and he smiled at the younger boy in thanks. Even though the nausea was starting to pass now that he was seated again. The soft kiss that Sam gave him after the nurse was gone was definitely not unwelcome.

Dean shook his head though when Sam suggested that he stay here overnight.

“No way. Hate hospitals. I’ll be fine, Sammy.” Dean said, settling his hands back on the younger boy’s hips. Leaning forward he rested his forehead on Sam’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Don’t worry. Not gonna puke.” He reassured the younger boy. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and held him loosely, but stood ready to clutch him tighter if Dean started to waver or something. He was only mildly reassured when Dean promised he wasn't going to puke. Dean definitely looked a little pale. He kissed Dean's head.

"I know you'll be fine. But only if you follow the doctor's orders. You need to rest for a few days. I'll be okay. I'll get to school when it starts getting crowded and I'll get sick right before lunch so I'll be in the nurse's office until the next class starts up. Then I'll bail out of class a little early. I'll maybe ride the bus out to the Seabrook Road bus stop. I can jog to your place from there, assuming my parents are cool with picking me up."

He stroked Dean's hair as he leaned his cheek gently against Dean's head. He didn't want to put any pressure on it, he wasn't sure where Dean was bruised, so he just put enough pressure to let Dean know he was there.

As Dean sat there leaning against him, Sam felt his chest tighten a little. Dean needed him now. He wondered if his parents would let him stay the night, so he could help Bobby watch over him. The recriminating thoughts kept trying to nip at him, but he held Bobby's words close to his heart. It wouldn't help, going to Eric wouldn't help.

He looked up when Bobby followed the nurse in who was pushing the wheel chair. "C'mon Dean. You're ride's here," Sam said softly. "We'll be at your house soon and you can sleep some more."

It felt good leaning against Sam like this, the younger boy’s arms around him, and the light stroking to his hair. Sam’s scent filled his senses, blocking out the antiseptic smell of the hospital, and Dean found himself relaxing even further into the younger boy’s light embrace.

Though he certainly didn’t like it too much the way Sam went on about him obeying the doctor’s orders. How Sam would try to take care of himself at school alone… Sam wasn’t ready to face those bastards alone yet. He’d taught the younger boy a few tricks, but not nearly enough to keep himself from being pounded into a bloody pulp. It would only take one time… one time for those mother fuckers to catch Sam alone somewhere… and it would be Sam that ended up in the hospital next time.

They both knew it. He could hear the tension in Sam’s voice even though the younger boy tried to be confident and reassuring. Dean was sure this is what Eric had in mind. If almost having him run down didn’t scare the younger boy back to Eric, getting him out of the way one way or another so that he could get to Sam easier was definitely a reasonable back up plan. Eric wouldn’t miss this opportunity, and Dean wasn’t going to let him get it.

What the hell did the doctors know anyway? He’d hunted with worse injuries than this before he wasn’t going to let Bobby keep him home from school. He also wasn’t going to let Sam go to school alone, plain and simple. So if they really wanted him to stay home and ‘rest’ they were going to have to come up with another option.

Before he could answer the younger boy, Sam told him his ‘ride’ was there and he heard the nurse pushing in the promised wheelchair. Dean sighed and straightened reluctantly. Though when he turned and saw that Bobby was there as well, his eyes widened and he felt himself pale even more if it were possible. Silently cursing, he dropped his hands quickly from Sam’s hips, hoping the older man hadn’t noticed. Also hoping Bobby would assume that Sam was just keeping him from keeling over… or something… rather than the more obvious… fuck…

Bobby saw the look on Dean's face when he saw him. He supposed he would have to tell Dean that Dean's preferences didn't bother him. Dean had always tried to keep the fact he was interested in men off Bobby's radar, but Bobby was a hunter. He was accustomed to watching body language and it had been obvious, at least to him, for some time but he respected Dean's wishes and ignored the fact. He supposed Dean was paranoid it might be a reason for Bobby to kick him out. He could understand that. Some couldn't handle the thought of two of the same gender together.

He stepped in to take Sam's place, giving Dean support, then he and the nurse got Dean moved into the wheel chair. Seeing Sam had everything he led the way toward the exit.

Sam followed behind, letting the red head push Dean. He considered walking next to Dean but well, the view was very fine. Dean would understand and appreciate that, he was certain. Probably even approve of it. Especially since Dean had flirted with her. He liked blondes better than red heads, but the nurse had curves in all the right places. He grinned to himself and pulled out Dean's cellphone. He opened it up and, after making sure no one was paying him any mind, took a picture of the back side of the nurse. Dean would appreciate that too.

He was surprised when they got outside and he didn't see Bobby's to truck. Bobby told th nurse to stay put while he got the minivan. Minivan??

A hideous, rusted jalopy of a minivan pulled up to the curb a minute later and Bobby got out then opened the side door for Dean.

"Sam, get up in there and help him settle in."

Nodding, Sam jumped inside. The vehicle smelled of stale cigarettes. Bleah. He helped get Dean onto the bench seat, then sat down beside him.

After thanking the nurse, Bobby shut the door then got behind the wheel. "We'll be home and have you in bed soon, Dean," Bobby told him as he put the van in drive.

Bobby didn’t say anything as the older hunter took over from Sam keeping him upright while the nurse pushed the wheelchair over, between the three of them managing to get him safely seated in the chair, and Dean wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe the older man was just waiting for them to be out of the hospital, not wanting to cause a scene or anything here. Maybe Bobby would wait until Sam went home before laying into him. What if Bobby told him to stay away from Sam? That he couldn’t see the younger boy anymore? What if Bobby told the younger boy’s parents about them and they told Sam to stay away from him too? What if Bobby was so disgusted by him he told him to get out and never come back?

Fuck… mother fucking shit fuck…

Dean glanced over at the younger boy while they waited for Bobby to go get the van. Ugh, he hated that damned van. But considering Bobby’s truck wouldn’t really fit the three of them very well, he understood why the older man had brought it instead. Sam didn’t seem all that worried though about Bobby having seen them that way. Was Sam’s parents maybe a little more open minded than most? Still, even the most open minded parents would probably be pissed if they learned someone like him was fucking their underage teenage son.

Fuck…

Getting into the van was an unpleasant affair. Dean had trouble balancing on one foot because he kept getting dizzy and feeling sick to his stomach every time he stood up. God damned concussions. He hated them. Bobby and Sam both had to hold him steady as he hopped painfully on one foot, trying not to put so much weight on his injured ankle and he knew he would have fallen without their help. He would have to wrap his ankle better when he got home, maybe put a splint on it, so at least he could put weight on it.

“Yeah.” Dean muttered to Bobby in reply, his voice strained for more than one reason as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat once he was safely inside. Trying to will his dizziness and nausea away.

Sam felt a little helpless sitting beside Dean, seeing Dean look so damned miserable and all because of him…no, stop it, dammit. He took Dean's hand and pulled it into his lap and wrapped his other hand on top of it. That was about the best he could offer until they got back to the salvage yard. At least they weren't real far from it. He wondered suddenly if he should have grabbed Dean a puke sack or something and then fervently hoped Dean wouldn't need it.

At least the couch was comfortable. He knew that first hand and he suspected Dean would probably end up there since his bedroom was upstairs. He didn't need to be climbing stairs, not that he probably could.

He wanted to lean up against Dean, but that was the side Dean had the stitches in and where he was pretty bruised up. Tomorrow was going to suck, suck, suck. He wondered how he was ever going to survive the next few days without Dean at school. He snorted to himself. That was hella selfish. Dean was bruised and sick, and he was moaning to himself about wanting Dean up and protecting him. Even if Dean made it to school in a few days, he was still going to be the walking wounded and no doubt Eric and his goons would take advantage of that. He was going to have to be extra vigilant and try to stay on Dean's injured side and protect him from people. Maybe Bobby could give him some pointers.

Bobby drove as carefully as he could. Though the car was a junker it had damned good suspension and gave a smoother ride that most. Being a hunter, injuries were common so he made sure his two main vehicles and his tow truck drove well and minimized jarring. Glancing into the rear view mirror he shook his head, seeing Dean collapsed on the seat and Sam chewing on his lower lip, worrying himself sick. He'd get Sam comforted once he got Dean tended to. There really wasn't anything he could say to either of them to help so he just kept quiet.

He slowed as he saw a red Ferrari parked in the gas station up ahead. That snot nosed son of a bitch. Wanting to see his dirty work. "Dean," Bobby snapped. "Sit your ass up. Now! Got us a scavenging jackal ahead on the right. Sam, if you've ever been pissed, call that up and look it. That son of a bitch is not going to know he hurt us."

Seeing Dean respond almost instinctively to his snapped order and praying it didn't result in Dean puking, he held out his right hand and flipped the bird to the red car as he passed by it. He saw Lancaster and his buddies there. He grinned to himself when he saw both the boys mimic him. Bobby hit the horn and made damned sure Lancaster looked up and saw them. Satisfied, he sped back up and focused on the road.

"They ain't following. You can both relax. Good job, boys."

Dean opened his eyes and glanced at Sam when the younger boy took his hand, slightly surprised by the gesture. He looked over at Bobby briefly, but the older man didn’t seem to notice, so Dean didn’t try to take his hand away. Offering Sam a small reassuring smile that was surprisingly unforced considering how crappy he felt right now. He could see that the younger boy was taking this pretty hard. What had happened had shaken him up badly, hell, everything that had happened at that damned school had shaken him up and he couldn’t really blame the boy.

When Bobby spoke Dean sat up immediately, so used to by now following orders from that tone of voice that it was second nature. Bobby usually didn’t talk like that except when they were on a hunt, when disobeying could mean death and dismemberment.

Dean was fully prepared in fact to throw himself in front of Sam to protect the younger boy from some danger he hadn’t seen yet. Then he looked where Bobby had indicated and Dean’s expression shifted from alert and ready to murderous in a split second.

That mother fucker really had some fucking nerve. Though this was probably a blessing in disguise. He certainly didn’t want Eric to know how much he was hurt and use that to his advantage. So when Dean saw Bobby give the bastard the one fingered salute as they drove by, Dean did the same, and almost laughed when Sam did as well. The look on Eric’s face when they drove past, Bobby’s horn blaring to get the prick’s attention was priceless. First shocked as hell, then angry, but Dean knew the prick was probably shitting himself too, wishing that damned car had killed him after all, and probably wondering what he would do to him once he got his hands on him.

Dean didn’t have a reputation for nothing, after all.

The bastards didn’t follow. Dean didn’t think they would. They were too chicken shit for that. Though once that burst of adrenaline faded Dean began to remember just how much like crap he felt and relaxed back against the seat with a small groan. Damned, that didn’t feel good. Bobby should probably be glad that he took such good care of his cars because any more jostling right now and Dean was going to puke whatever Mexican food was left in his stomach.

Dean gave the younger boy’s hand still holding his own a little squeeze.

Pulling the van up close to the porch, Bobby shut down the engine. As soon as he opened the door Rumsfeld was there wagging his tail, ball in his mouth, giving a muffled 'woof.'

"Rumsfeld. Porch. Guard," Bobby told the dog sternly. Rumsfeld immediately dropped his ball and ran to the porch. Sitting down, he stared out at the junkyard, ready to defend his territory and the people in it.

Bobby walked around to the side door that Sam already had open. Handing him the house key, he told Sam, "Go unlock the door and move the coffee table out of the way.

Sam nodded and did as Bobby told him.

"C'mon Son," Bobby said, helping Dean to his feet. Bobby stepped out of the van and as soon as Dean was close enough, he swept Dean's knees with one arm and caught Dean with the other, lifting him into his arms. "Damn, this was a lot easier when you was shorter. And just shut your yap and don't throw up. I can get you into to the couch." Bobby said, his tone of voice making it perfectly clear Dean was not to argue. "Shaddup," Bobby ordered when he saw Dean start to open his mouth.

It was a strain, Dean wasn't a lightweight, and if Bobby could have carried him over his shoulder, it wouldn't have been as much an effort. Between that and his stitched up side and the fact if Dean's head went down, the blood would rush to it and he would puke, a fireman's carry just wasn't practical.

By the time Bobby got in to the couch, he was huffing. Fuck. When had the boy gotten so damned big? He eased Dean onto the cushions and then collapsed in the chair beside it. He was going to feel that tomorrow. Hell, he'd probably feel it tonight. Sam already had a couple pillows and a blanket ready for Dean. He settled the pillows under Dean as Bobby put him down, making sure the pillows helped prop Dean up. He covered Dean with the blanket then hurried to the kitchen where he filled up a couple bags of ice, wrapped them in towels and brought them out. He set two gently on Dean's ankle and the other he set against the stitched up gash. Leaving Bobby to catch his breath, he went out to the van, grabbed the prescriptions and then slid the van's door closed. After handing the bag from the drugstore to Bobby he went to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. He handed Bobby one glass and set the other on the coffee table as he pulled it closer to the couch. He stood there then, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

"Sam, go order us a pizza," Bobby told him. "The number is by the phone."

Relieved to have something else to do, Sam disappeared into the other room. Bobby opened the bag and pulled out the three bottles. "Ibuprofen, Vicodin, and an antibiotic," he told Dean as he pulled one of each out and handed them to the injured youth, followed by the glass of water.

Dean knew they were home without even having to open his eyes and he breathed a small sigh of relief at that, he wasn’t sure how longer he could take in the car. He certainly didn’t want to have to endure the embarrassment of spewing his lunch all over Sam and Bobby having to clean it up, no doubt both the older and younger man wouldn’t appreciated that either. Fuck, he fucking hated concussions, and how they tended to make him motion sick.

When they came to a stop though Dean dared to crack open one eye and then the other when he was sure they wouldn’t fall out of his head. He watched as Sam hopped out of the car and would have tried to follow except Bobby was already there inside helping him. Dean had to admit, he appreciated the help. If possible his various wounds felt even more swollen and painful, especially the wound in his side and his ankle, though more likely whatever pain medication they’d given him in the hospital was probably just starting to wear off.

Dean had been anticipating a slow, awkward, and probably painful walk into the house, certainly not for Bobby to suddenly sweep him off his feet into a fucking bridal carry. The sudden vertigo from going from a mostly vertical to horizontal position making him groan and concentrate on not throwing up all over himself rather than protesting. At least at first. Of course when he finally tried to protest Bobby silenced him before he could even open his mouth.

At least the blush from his embarrassment overrode the paleness caused by his queasy stomach, for the moment. Dean was actually really surprised that the older hunter managed to get him inside without dropping him on the way, even though Bobby was more than a little winded by the time the older man set him down on the couch.

Sam was there hovering worriedly around him the second Bobby had him down, getting him pillows, a blanket, and ice. He winced a little at the sudden cold but he knew it would help and start to feel better soon so he didn’t bitch or complain. Dean watched the younger boy head out of the room to order them a pizza as Bobby told him to, though he knew Bobby and Sam would be the only ones eating. Just thinking about food made him feel sick to his stomach. Though when the older man handed him over his prescriptions Dean nodded a little and pushed himself up just enough so he could take them without spilling the water all over himself then he handed the glass back to Bobby and settled down again.

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean muttered. “Sorry about this… I wasn’t paying attention…”

He should have known better. He’d been stupid. How many times had Bobby told him? Not paying attention, being distracted on a hunt, was one of the quickest ways to get yourself killed. He'd let his guard down, and look what happened.

Bobby gave a soft snort as he set the water down on the coffee table. "And getting' run down was on yer radar? You kept enough wits about you to get out of the way. You can't be on guard 24/7 Son and in broad daylight, with witnesses, in public, I wouldn't have been expecting a damned thing either. Humans," Bobby said with disgust.

Bobby confirmed Sam was still on the phone and turned back to Dean. Dean looked like shit. Although he had been inclined to keep Dean home a least a couple days, the scared rabbit look on Sam's face and that Lancaster shit at the gas station had him rethinking the decision he had made. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you're staying in bed, off your feet tomorrow. With that little son of a bitch waiting for us on the way home, I hate keeping you out, but you can bet your sweet ass he'll be pushing you tomorrow to see if you're hurt and you can't afford to let him know you are. I'd rather you not go in the rest of the week, but that's got just as much potential to bite us in the ass so let's take this a day at a time. I think if you stay down tomorrow, full bed rest, you can probably manage Thursday. If nothing else I don't want you driving tomorrow and I don't want that little shit to be able to take advantage of your injuries. I'll ask the Colts if Sam can come over and help me with you tomorrow. I'm sure I can convince them to let him. Sam and I will get the Impala up and running while you rest. We'll get the tire changed and get the metal pounded out enough the door will open, and get you a new window. Won't be able to open the window like as not until you finish working on the door, but it'll be good enough to let you lock up the car and get in to school in your trademark vehicle."

Sam came back in. "It'll be here in about forty minutes they said."

"Good," Bobby said and pushed himself to his feet. "Why don't you sit with Dean for a bit. I got a few things to tend to."

Sam watched Bobby head out toward the kitchen then turned to Dean. He brushed an errant lock off Dean's forehead. "Anything I can get you?" Sam asked Dean softly.

Dean wasn’t sure what to say when Bobby merely brushed off his apology, trying to make him feel better, no doubt. Unfortunately it didn’t really help. No, getting nearly run down by a car hadn’t been on his radar, but it probably should have been, if not that exactly, then something. Even if Bobby admitted he wouldn’t have been expecting it either, just because Dean hadn’t been expecting it didn’t mean he shouldn’t have been on guard. A few years ago? When he’d been living on the streets… Dean probably would have seen it coming because he’d always been on guard. 24/7. This just showed how soft he’d gotten. He’d started hunting ‘real’ monsters and forgot about how monstrous humans could be. He wouldn’t forget again.

Yeah… humans… at least they agreed on that much.

When Bobby went on to say that he had to stay home in bed tomorrow, the older man was right, he didn’t want to hear it. All the reasoning in the world didn’t really matter to him right now either. Yeah, Bobby was right, Lancaster would definitely take advantage of this situation, especially if he knew how hurt Dean really was. But if he stayed home tomorrow then the bastard would take just as much advantage of the situation, going after Sam while Dean wasn’t there, and… no way, no fucking way.

Dean was just opening his mouth to protest when Bobby mentioned talking to Sam’s parents and asking them if Sam could come here instead of going to school. Would they let Sam do that? Bobby was really good at convincing just about anyone to do anything so maybe… And if he went back to school the next day in his car everyone would probably just figure he’d spent the day out working on his car rather than bed ridden. That could work…

“Alright.” Dean finally agreed, giving the older man a nod and kind of regretting the movement, but at least he felt a little better about tomorrow. If Sam came here then he would rest, just like Bobby said. But if Sam didn’t come here… well… then Dean figured he should probably rest as much as he could today and tonight just to be sure.

When Sam came in to sit by him, Dean offered the younger boy a slight smile.

“How about a sponge bath?” He joked when he was sure that Bobby was out of earshot.

Sam shook his head and gave Dean a lopsided grin. "I don't think so. But I did get you this."

He pulled Dean's phone out of his pocket, opened it, and called up the most recent picture taken. He turned it so Dean could see the picture of the backside of the nurse. "Thought you would appreciate it. It was a nice view."

After Dean saw it, he folded the phone closed and after setting it on the table said, "Okay, you can stop gawking at her now." Leaning over, he kissed Dean. Seeing Dean's eyes flick toward the kitchen, Sam own eyes grew mischievous. "Hey Bobby, is it all right if I kiss Dean?"

Bobby's sigh could be heard in the living room. "You work him up and I swear I'll take you over my knee. Or at the least, make you give Rumsfeld a bath. Let him rest."

Looking down at Dean he gave an almost shy smile as he shrugged, a slight color coming to his cheeks. "He asked if we were…together. I…I couldn't exactly lie to him. I mean, he sounded like he was already pretty sure."

"Sam, if Dean's blushing, you use that phone of his to get a picture. Getting that boy to blush is like trying to get his to study, it can be a real feat some times." Bobby said.

Dean wasn’t all that surprised by Sam’s refusal, he didn’t actually expect the younger boy to do that, and certainly not with Bobby around, even as nice a mental image as it was. Though when Sam mentioned he got him something and then pulled out his phone Dean raised an eyebrow, definitely curious. And he couldn’t help but grin and chuckle when he saw the picture of a very shapely feminine backside in a tight nurse’s outfit. Why that little devil. Ok, that was definitely becoming the new wallpaper on his phone.

Sam didn’t let him oogle for very long, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle again when the younger boy shut the phone and set it aside. He was sure that Sam couldn’t be all that jealous since he’d taken the picture for him in the first place, but it was still cute thinking of the younger boy even a little jealous. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one.

When the younger boy leaned in to kiss him he certainly wasn’t complaining, though he glanced briefly towards the doorway just to make sure that Bobby wasn’t around. Nothing could have really prepared him however for when Sam called in to Bobby asking him… what the fuck?! Sam hadn’t just…

Dean’s eyes widened nearly to the point of falling out of his head and he was sure he felt his heart stop, then begin beating so hard and fast in his chest he barely heard Bobby’s reply to Sam. Sam had told him? Sam had told him! Why? Why the fuck would Sam do that? Because Bobby had asked him… oh fuck… oh fuck…

No. He definitely wasn’t blushing. In fact, Dean was pretty sure he was about as pale as a corpse right now despite how hard his heart was pounding in panic. Bobby knew… Bobby knew he was gay, well Bi, and knew that he and Sam were…

“Oh fuck…” Dean whispered, covering his face with his hands, maybe hoping that when he removed them this would turn out to be just a concussion induced nightmare.

Bobby walked back into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel. He chuckled softly. "Yer damned lucky he didn't puke all over you for that," Bobby said to Sam. Bobby came around to the back side of the couch and looked down at Dean. Although his face wsa still sovered with his hands, he looked like he really did just want to die, crawl away into a hole first, then curl up and die. Laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, Bobby gave the lightest of squeezes. "I'm a hunter you idget. You think I wouldn't notice you were bi? You wanted to keep it secret, so I let you. Don't make no mind to me. You wanna kiss someone and they wanna kiss you back, that's fine, but don't be sucking down their face in front of me. Girl, guy, whoever. You know the rules. That's for the bedroom, not for public display. With the way Sam was acting though, I decided to ask. Probably 't weren't my business, but with him coming over every day I wanted to know if there was something between you." He gently ruffled Dean's hair. "So stop trying to melt into the floor."

Sam gaped at Bobby and at Dean. "He didn't know you knew he was…?" Sam's eyes widened. "Oh crap. I'm sorry Dean! I just assumed you knew he knew, with him asking me like he did. I didn't mean to drop it on you like that!"

Bobby shook his head. "Calm your butt down. I shoulda told you he didn't know. Well, iffen you," he looked down at Dean, "was gonna have one boondoggle of a day, might as well get all the boondoggles out in the open, I s'pose. I gotta make some calls. I'll be in the office. Sammy, you make sure Dean don't move from the couch."

"Yes sir," Sam said, feeling about an inch tall.

As soon as Bobby went into his office Sam took Dean's hand. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad at me."

Dean groaned behind his hands when he heard Bobby come into the room. He was right though. Sam was lucky that he hadn’t puked all over him, but that was still an option the way he felt right now. He really didn’t want to drop his hands, not really wanting to face Bobby right now, but he knew how foolish he probably looked right now. He might as well attempt to face… whatever Bobby said… like a man.

So Dean dropped his hands and looked up at the older man, trying not to look like Bobby was handing out a death sentence or anything. Bobby didn’t look upset, angry, disgusted, or anything but maybe that was for Sam’s benefit?

When Bobby said he’d known all along he was Bi, not even suspected but knew, Dean really did feel like melting into the floor. Yeah, of course he knew that Bobby didn’t miss much, but still… the older man had known and didn’t kick him out? And Bobby didn’t look upset about knowing about him Sam either, even though the other boy was underage. Bobby had already known about him and Sam when he suggested Sam come over tomorrow, so that meant he wasn’t going to try to keep them apart? Ok, that made Dean feel a little bit better. Slightly.

Dean glanced over at Sam when the younger boy began to stutter an apology and wondered if the expression on Sam’s face mirrored his own. Yeah, probably. He threw his arm back over his face with a groan. This was just one fucked up day. He was ready for bed now, he didn’t think he could take anymore.

“Yeah.” Dean said from underneath his arm when Bobby said he was going to work in his office, not sure if the older man even heard him. He felt Sam take his hand and sighed heavily. Maybe one day… a long time from now… he’d find this all funny. A real long time from now.

“I’m not mad.” He mumbled, and he was almost surprised to realize he really wasn’t. Maybe he was just too tired to be mad, but he didn’t think that was it. He was upset, sure, but there was also a strange kind of… relief… lodged in his chest. Dean finally dropped his arm and looked over at the younger boy. “Its fine, Sam. Really.”

Sam practically held his breath, waiting for Dean to yell at him, if nothing else for just dropping it all on him with the way he surely felt. When Dean looked at him he could tell Dean really wasn't mad at him and he smiled in relief.

He kissed Dean again. "Okay, good, cause I only took one picture of the nurse and I don't know what else I could do to make you not mad at me. Except for a sponge bath and, uh-uh. Not going to try that today. I'd probably end up dumping the water on you or something."

Adjusting the blanket on Dean, he pulled it up a little more. "You look really tired. Why don't you sleep? I'll be right here if you need anything. It's at least 3 hours before mom or dad comes by to pick me up." His smile wavered a little when he thought about going to school tomorrow alone. He'd just suck it up, tell them Dean stayed home to fix his car but would probably be in by lunch, maybe make them think twice before messing with him. Yeah. Right. He suddenly wondered how much body armor cost and how fast he could get some….or he could just skip school tomorrow. He could just catch the bus, come over to the junkyard instead, and watch over Dean. Course he wouldn't be able to get away with that all week. Well, one day at a time.

Sam grabbed one of his book bags. He might was well at least do some homework while Dean slept. Opening it up his eyes widened. He had Dean's box of fake IDs in there. Nooooo, he was not going to tell Dean. Seeing that Dean already looked like he was asleep, he took the box and slipped out the back door. He went over to the damaged Impala and replaced the box back in the glove box. He walked around the car. If Dean hadn't jumped out of the the way, he'd probably have two broken legs. It made Sam so mad he just wanted to borrow one of Bobby's cars and go run it into Eric's car. Or run it over top of Eric.

Hearing Rumsfeld bark he saw the pizza delivery car approaching. He heard Bobby's voice but couldn't make out the words over the ruckus Rumsfeld was making. Then suddenly Rumsfeld went silent. Maybe the friendly dog was a better junkyard dog than Sam gave him credit for. He certainly sounded like he would rip off someone's face. He hurried back into the house just as Bobby was bringing in the pizza.

They kept their voices down as that sat at the kitchen table and dug into the steaming pie.

"Dean said I could ask you if you wanted help going through your books. I saw you were doing stuff on werewolves. He almost giggled. "Is that what you hunt?"

Bobby looked up at him and smirked. "You bet, kiddo. Werewolves and ghosts and goblins."

"And demons and dragons?" Sam laughed.

"Not dragons. You're Japanese. Dragons are the good guys. Can shapeshift into people, you know."

Sam bobbed his head. "Yeah, Mom used to tell me stories about them. My ancestral grandfather, he was a dragon they say."

"You ever try to shapeshift into a dragon, Sammy," Bobby teased.

"Course. I go flying every Sunday with my mom," Sam said in a mock serious tone.

Bobby laughed. "I bet you do."

"So can I?"

"Can you what?" Bobby said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Help you go through the books and do the indexing or researching or whatever you do."

Bobby pulled at his lower lip for a minute. "Let me think about that. Maybe."

"I'll be really careful with the books. I promise."

"I don't doubt that."

Sam tilted his head. "Are you catholic?" he asked suddenly.

"No. I go to a catholic church about once a month though. Why?"
Sam pointed to the necklace Bobby had on. "You're wearing a saint's medal. I have that same saint on the back of my watch."

"Really?" Bobby said. "Lemme see."

Sam pulled off his watch and handed it over. Bobby wiped his hands free of the pizza grease and accepted the watch. He studied the engraving for a moment then handed it back. "It's supposed to protect you from evil."

"I know," Sam said. "Mom can be pretty superstitious at times. Won't let me go anywhere without it."

"She got any other superstitions?" Bobby asked casually. It was obvious she had hunters in the family based on the bow, though he wasn't certain she really knew what she had. Could she be hunter? Or used to be a hunter?"

"I guess. This is the big one though. And the ceremony to respect the ancestors four times a year. But that's not really superstitious I guess."

"No, just tradition," Bobby said, but wondered. "I'm going to ask your parents to let you stay home from school tomorrow if you're willing. Could use some help watching of Dean."

Sam brightened. "Yeah! I'd be happy to!"

"Good. Want to help me work on Dean's car tomorrow?"

"I don’t really know anything about—" Sam began.

"Just need an extra pair of hands."

"Okay. Just don't me screw anything up."

Bobby gave a sharp nod. "You'll do fine."

Once they were done eating, Sam returned to Dean's side, scooting the chair closer so he could take Dean's hand and hold onto it while he was studying. Somewhere along the way he let his eyes close for just a moment and was asleep in nothing flat.

Sam looked so damned relieved that Dean knew he probably couldn’t have stayed mad at the younger boy even if he had been angry. In fact, the way Sam kissed him he knew he couldn’t even stay the least bit upset. It wasn’t really Sam’s fault after all. Dean had never told the younger boy that Bobby didn’t know he was Bi… well, that he didn’t know that Bobby knew he was Bi…

Dean sighed softly. His head hurt too much for this.

Though he managed to give Sam a slight smile when Sam joked about dumping water on him, yeah, with the day he’d been having, that’s probably what would happen too. Not today? Maybe another day? Dean grinned a little more at that implication Sam probably didn’t even mean to make. He would have to bring it up some time. Later… much later…

“Yeah. Ok…” Dean agreed softly. He really was feeling like hell, exhausted, and a few hours of sleep will probably do him some good. Hell, at this point he’d probably sleep for the rest of the night… well, he would have if Bobby didn’t have to wake him up every hour. Damn that was going to suck. He fucking hated concussions…

Dean watched the younger boy get settled in the chair beside the couch, closed his eyes, and he was out like a light.

The first time he woke up was to the sound of Rumsfeld’s barking out front. Not a playful barking but a warning barking. That might have alarmed him a little but before he could even sit up he heard Bobby’s voice as well, then Sam’s, and the smell of pizza, so he simply shut his eyes again and let himself fall back to sleep. The next time he woke up was to Bobby’s gentle shaking and though it left Dean grumbling he went through the motions of focusing and telling the older man how many fingers he was holding in front of his face. The sooner it was over the sooner he could go back to sleep.

Sam stretched and yawned sleepily. He blinked his eyes and looked around slowly, utterly baffled as to where he was. He was sans socks and shoes, but otherwise still dressed but laying in bed. Not his bed. He saw the light and turned it on. With the light on, he realized he was in Dean's bed, in his bedroom. His mind went into overdrive trying to put the pieces together. Where was Dean? Had they…? No, Dean had a concussion, down on the couch still probably. He had a vague recollection of Bobby waking him and helping him get up the stairs and into bed. Looking at the clock he saw it said 5 and based on the fact is was twilight, he had a feeling that was 5 am not pm. He threw off the covers, pulled on his socks, and padded to the door.

"Yer up early. Then again you been sleeping for almost twelve hours."

Walking down the stairs Sam yawned, scrubbing his face with his hand. "What happened? I mean, why am I still here? Dean okay?"

Bobby looked up from his desk where books were scattered. "I talked with your mom. She agreed to let you stay the night, and stay here today. No school."

"Really?" Sam asked, his brain still trying to catch up with everything. "Do I smell coffee?"

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, fresh pot is brewing."

"You been up all night?"

"Nah. Got up every couple hours to wake sleeping beauty there, feed him his pain pills and such, but otherwise, I slept most the night. Bring me in a cup of coffee, would ya?"

Sam trod out to the kitchen and finding two mugs, poured them each a cup. After tasting it and making a face he added sugar and milk to his own. He brought the mugs out and handed one to Bobby. He glanced over at the sleeping figure. "How's Dean?"

"Fine. Slept pretty quiet most the night. The swelling on his ankle's gone down. I'll change out his bandages on his side in a bit."

"…Is it weird? Knowing me and Dean are…dating?"

Bobby sat back in his chair and looked up at Sam. "Is it weird for you?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. I never…I never considered dating a guy. Then he offered to sponsor me, but I didn't realize that's what he was saying. When I did, I figured he was better than Eric. We made out and…I liked it. It's still kind of messing with my head. I don't know if I'm gay or bi, or maybe just gay when it comes to Dean. He's not making me do anything I don't want to, Bobby," Sam added hastily. "I don't want you to think he ever made me do anything. I thought I'd have to, you know, put out, for him to keep protecting me but after some serious miscommunications between us, we got that worked out and I know he doesn't expect anything. I think it's weird for him too. And I feel really weird talking to you about this but you're the only one who knows and …"

"I get it. That's okay," Bobby said. He didn't want to hear explicit details but from what he's seen of Sam, Sam was probably too shy to say 'penis' in front on anyone except his doctor and he'd probably still use a euphemism then. "It probably is odd for Dean. He doesn't have long term relationships, least ways, not that I'm aware of."

"So what are you doing?"

"Researching werewolves." Bobby said.

"Why?"

The older man chuckled softly. "Because researching big bad legendary creatures is my hobby. The books," he glanced around, "they're just a side effect of that."

"Do you publish any of your research?"

"I share it with others with similar hobbies, so in a way, yeah, I s'pose I do." Bobby pushed himself to his feet. "Since you're up, I need to run an errand. I probably won't be back until about nine or ten. Your mom's going to drop off some fresh clothes for you when she's headed out to work. Rumsfeld is still on guard duty. He knows your mom is a friend, but if he gets himself in a lather, just tell him, 'friend' and 'quiet.' I already warned her, so she won't be getting out of her car just in case Rumsfeld decides not to listen to you. You'll have to go out and get them from her.

"I've got Dean's pill schedule written down on a tablet on the coffee table. When he wakes up he can take a vicadin, he can take those every three hours. At eight, he needs his antibiotic and ibuprofen. There's a jar on the floor by the couch. He can take care of his business in that if he's got to piss. Get some orange juice down him when he wakes up, if he stays awake, half a glass at least. He can have coffee if he wants it. If he's hungry, fix him a scrambled egg and toast. No bacon, nothing greasy. He can sit up if he wants, but unless he's gotta take a shit, I want his butt on that couch. If he has a prayer of being up to going to school tomorrow, he's got to get as much rest as possible today. Remind him of that if he gives you any crap."

Sam nodded his understanding.

"My number's in Dean's phone if you need me. If he starts throwing up, call me but I don't think he will at this point. He tries to get up too fast and he might. If he's not awake by eight, wake him and give him his pills. If you can't wake him, call me. Any problems—"

"I got it Bobby. Call you."

Bobby grunted, walked into the kitchen and poured the coffee into a travel mug then topped it off. He walked back out to the living room where Sam stood.

"Help yerself to breakfast." He hesitated a minute. "Don't be answering that door for no one, not delivery folk, mail, nothing and no one. You get your stuff from your mom and you come back inside. I'll be pulling the gate closed behind me, so it'll say closed as far as the salvage yard is concerned. There's a shotgun filled with rock salt in that closet. Scares people, hurts like a mother, but won't do no one any real harm and you don't have to be a good aim with it. There's a pistol in my desk, left upper drawer, and that one's loaded with proper bullets."

Sam's eyes grew wide. "You-you don’t think—"

"No, but upon rare occasion some idget has tried to rob me. I just wanted you to know you got resources if you need 'em."

"Uh, okay. Thanks," Sam said, really hoping he didn't need to see either of those guns.

"See you in a few hours, Sammy."

"'Kay. Bye."

Once Bobby was gone, Sam made himself some breakfast then afterward began looking through the books Bobby had out and started making notes. At least, making notes from the books written in a language he could actually read.

Dean wasn’t sure if it was the sound of voices talking that roused him or the smell of coffee. Maybe a little bit of both. Though neither were enough to make him wake up completely, he was still too tired for that. Having been woken up every hour or two to make sure he didn’t slip into a coma or anything wasn’t a very restful sleep. Even though he’d technically been sleeping for a good eleven or twelve hours by this point he still felt exhausted.

He hovered in that in between stage of asleep and awake for what felt like a long time. Aware but not aware. No more voices. The smell of food which wasn’t as appetizing as it should have been. Then the even softer sound of pages turning and the scratches of a pencil against paper.

Dean probably would have been lulled back completely asleep by the familiar, almost comforting, sounds except that his various aches and pains were beginning to make themselves more and more known. His medications were wearing off again and the pain is what finally pushed him more towards waking.

He blinked his eyes open, slowly focusing on his surroundings. His head felt groggy and his thoughts slow, and he knew that was partially due to the concussion and partially due to his medication. At least they’d given him the good drugs.

Of course he recognized he was in the living room lying on the couch. The same place he’d been every other time he woke during the night, so he wasn’t alarmed or anything. He was glad he remembered those other times he woke and why he was here in the first place. Short term memory loss wasn’t uncommon with concussions and he certainly didn’t want to deal with that on top of anything… though if he had forgotten anything how would he know he’d forgotten it? Too early… too damned early to start thinking like that. Especially since it made his brain hurt.

Dean sighed softly. The light was faint in the living room but he could tell it was morning even though the drapes were closed. Dean was glad that they were or the sunlight that usually came in right through the front windows would probably have burned his eyes out of his head.

He turned his head slowly to the side and was a little surprised to see that it wasn’t Bobby sitting at the desk making notes as he’d assumed but Sam. Though Dean wasn’t sure which he was more surprised about, the fact that Sam was here so early in the morning, or that Bobby had apparently given the younger boy permission to go through his books after all. Yeah, he’d told Sam that Bobby probably wouldn’t have minded, but he was still a bit surprised.

“Hey.” Dean managed softly, even though his voice caught a little in his dry throat.

Sam looked up when he heard Dean and smiled. "Hey."

Setting down the pencil, he double checked where he was in the book. He was learning all sorts of things about werewolves. It was sort of a fun diversion from his regular studies. He decided that he would like helping Bobby go through the old books. He had gotten caught up enough in reading the stuff that a couple times he had to go back and re read so he could take the notes he was suppose to be taking. He wished he read Latin. He could translate a little of the one book, but not very much, just a word here and there. Pushing away from the desk he got up and walked over to Dean and got out his pills. "It'll be another hour before you can take the ibuprofen, but you can take a vicodin now."

Handing Dean the water and the pills he waited until Dean took them then put the empty glass back on the coffee table. "Bobby said you could have eggs and toast if you were hungry, and there's a jar," he pointed to the empty jar on the table, "if you gotta pee. You're allowed to sit up but not get up. He'll be back in a few hours, he said he had a few errands to run."

Sam plopped himself in the chair and ran his fingers through his hair. "My mom ought to be here soon with some clean clothes for me. Bobby had me just stay the night." He grinned at Dean. "You have a comfortable bed. So how are you feeling? Your dizziness gone? You want some fresh ice for your ankle or side?"

Dean nodded and pushed himself up a little bit to take the pill that Sam gave him, wincing a little at the pull to the stitches in his side. Yeah, it was going to be a while before that stopped hurting every time he moved. He didn’t lay back down though, he’d been asleep for so damned long at this point he wanted to try staying awake for a little while. Besides, his ass was starting to get sore. Sure the couch was pretty comfortable to sleep on, but it wasn’t meant to serve as a bed 24/7.

When Sam mentioned food, Dean wasn’t really sure if he wanted to try eating or not. He was kind of hungry at this point, since he hadn’t eaten for over twelve hours by now, but he was still feeling crappy enough he wasn’t sure if anything he ate would make a swift reappearance if he tried.

Then Sam motioned to the jar on the table and Dean made a face. Bobby had made him piss in that last night too, not letting him get up from the couch to even go to the bathroom. It had been embarrassing enough having to do that in front of Bobby, no way in hell he was going to do it in front of Sam. And if Bobby wasn’t here, then he could at least get up to take a piss, damn it.

So Dean pushed himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the way his side complained and turned to put his feet on the floor. Damn. His ankle was still fucking sore. He could tell the swelling had gone down though because the bandage was a little bit loose around it, not giving much support. He would have to rewrap it before he even tried getting up.

He looked up at the younger boy when Sam mentioned how comfy his bed was and returned the grin.

“Glad you liked it.” He replied then shrugged a little. “Feel like crap, but expected that. Mostly gone I think. I’ll know when I try to get up. Can you wrap that a little tighter?”

Dean nodded down to his ankle. He’d do it himself but he wasn’t sure how good bending down would feel right now considering how much his side hurt. Probably wouldn’t feel good at all.

Sam knew good and well why Dean wanted his ankle wrapped and debated if he should. Dean wasn't supposed to get up, but if he were Dean, he'd want to get up just to get up and stretch for a few minutes,. And maybe Dean had to do more than piss. Of course if Sam didn't wrap it, he knew Dean would simply do it himself.

"Uhm, I can try."

Carefully Sam moved the coffee table back then knelt on the floor and gingerly unwrapped Dean's ankle, trying to be very careful not to jar it or move it. The swelling had definitely gone down but the bruising was practically psychedelic. He didn't think he'd ever seen so many different colors for bruises. Remembering how the wrap had been done, he began re-wrapping the ankle, trying to get that delicate balance between tight enough to support without being too tight and cutting off blood flow. He had just finished securing the end when Rumsfeld started barking his head off on the porch. "That's probably Mom."

Sam pushed himself to his feet and peeked out the front window. "Yep, it's Mom. I'll be right back."

Unlocking the front door, Sam waved at his mom and started down the steps when Rumsfeld dashed in front of him blocking his path. He was surprised and stopped. "Rumsfeld it's my mom," Sam said. After a moment he said firmly. "Friend."

Rumsfeld's hackles were still raised and he growled softly.

"Friend. Porch," Sam said and pointed back to the spot on the porch. Rumsfeld looked at him like he was nuts. Rumsfeld stayed where he was at the bottom of the porch and sat down, but continued to growl softly. Sam walked around him and crossed to the SUV.

"How's Dean doing?" Keiko asked her son after she rolled down her window.

"Probably trying to get up by himself and go to the bathroom right now. He just woke up. He seems a lot more with it but I can tell he still hurts a lot." Sam frowned then said quietly, "Mom, I'm worried Eric might try to hurt you or Dad, too."

Keiko handed out a gym bag to him. "Don't you worry about us. He has no idea who he's screwing with."

"But Mom, he hired some guy to try to run Dean down. His family probably has enough clout to get you or dad fired or something."

She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. "We lose our jobs, you stop going to school there. We get hurt and have to go to the hospital, or a car ends up in the shop, and again, money's too tight and you can't go to school there."

"But it's already paid for right now."

"We can withdraw you can get back some of the money. I don't think he'll risk that. Sammy, trust me. If he tries to hurt me or your father, he's going to get a rude awakening."

"…he tried to hurt Dean. Well, I mean he did hurt Dean. Can you…can we give him that rude awakening now?"

Keiko's lips pressed firmly together and her eyes grew dark. "That's for Bobby to handle if he wants. But if Eric tries to hurt Dean again, I'll pull in some favors, okay?"

"Why can't you pull in those favors now? Get Eric to back off?"

Her smile was a little strained. "These are special favors, Sweetheart. I'd rather not use them if I don't have to."

Sam furrowed his brow. His mom got weird like this sometimes. He just chalked it up to her Japanese heritage. He also knew he wouldn't get much else out of her so he let it drop for now. "Thanks for letting me stay with Dean today."

"Bobby was quite persuasive. If Eric does anything else to you, anything at all, don't you keep that from me, am I clear young man?"

"Yes ma'am," Sam said.

She gave him a smile and indicated for him to lean in the window. When he did she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Have a good day, Sammy. At least you and Dean will have plenty of time to study for that big exam tomorrow."

Sam tilted his head in confusion then realized that he and Dean were suppose to go out tonight and he was going to lose his virginity, and he'd told his mom…"Oh. I forgot about it with all the stuff happening."

"I'm not surprised. I'll see you tonight Sweetheart. Have a good day."

Sam bobbed his head. "You, too."

He walked back up to the porch and waved at his mom as the SUV pulled away.

"So how's your ankle feel?" Sam asked as he stepped back inside and locked the door behind him.

Dean could see the hesitation in Sam’s expressive eyes, and half expected an argument on his hands. Yeah, they both knew if Bobby was here the older man wouldn’t let him get up, but he wasn’t going to push it. He knew better than that, but he wasn’t crippled either. How was he going to know his limits if he didn’t test them at least a little?

When Sam finally agreed to rewrap his ankle, Dean gave the younger boy a smile of thanks. Doing his best not to wince when Sam knelt down and started undoing the loosened wrapping around his foot and ankle. He did frown however when he got a good look at it for the first time. Mother fucker. Ok, yeah, it could be worse. It could have been broken and just looking at it he knew it almost had been. If it had been, he definitely wouldn’t be walking any time soon and he needed to be walking by tomorrow.

He’d need to find a way to splint it today. He thought they had one in one of their first-aid kits he just had to find it. Sam did a pretty good job wrapping it back up at least. It would due for now at least, since he wouldn’t be walking very far. Dean knew he would definitely need something more for tomorrow though.

When he heard Rumsfeld begin barking in warning however Dean tensed. He grit his teeth as he started pushing himself up from the couch to stand, not really reassured when he watched Sam check out the window and confirm it was his mom. The protections and sigils around the salvage yard kept out most supernatural creatures, but there was always a chance of one of the more powerful ones getting through.

While it was pretty doubtful any demon would possess Sam’s mom and come here just to throw them off guard or something Dean had learned the hard way to always be prepared for the worst. Eric’s little stunt yesterday had reminded him of that. So when Sam went outside, instead of going to the bathroom Dean hobbled over to the closet and got out the shotgun full of rock salt they always kept stashed there then went to watch over by the door.

He watched as Sam talked to his mom. Watched as the SUV pulled out of the salvage yard. He only started to relax as she got out to pull the gate closed behind her again. When the she got back in the SUV again and drove away Dean returned the gun to the closet then hobbled down the hall to the bathroom to do what he meant to do before. Taking care of whatever business he could while he was up now because he knew he wouldn’t be getting up again anytime soon.

“Like shit.” Dean grunted his reply to Sam’s question when he came out of the bathroom.

"You shouldn't be walking on that!" Sam scolded him though he had to admit he was rather glad he didn't have to deal with a jar of urine to dispose of. He dumped the stuff his mom and brought him and dashed to Dean's side, offering support so Dean didn't have to put all his weight onto his foot. He helped settled Dean back onto the couch.

"Sit down. I'll get you breakfast. And Bobby wants you to drink some juice even if you aren't hungry."

Sam retrieved a glass of orange juice then returned to the kitchen and fixed Dean a light breakfast. A little of the coffee cake was left so he cut off a small slice and included in on the plate that he brought back in to Dean.

"Do you want the TV remote? Can I get you anything else? If not, I'm going to shower and get into some fresh clothes."

Dean snorted softly when Sam ‘scolded’ him for walking on his ankle. Well, how else was he supposed to get to the bathroom? Crawl? He didn’t protest the younger boy’s help getting him back to the couch however. As much as he hated to admit it, he was glad when he sat down again and hoped he wouldn’t have to get up for a good long while.

“Alright.” He replied, giving the younger boy a slight smile as Sam went into the kitchen for the promised juice and to fix him breakfast. Once the younger boy was gone however Dean closed his eyes as he relaxed back against the cushions of the couch. He hoped Sam didn’t notice how much of a strain that had put on him. He didn’t want Sam telling Bobby he’d been up and about or give the younger boy any doubts that he might not be ready to return to school tomorrow.

He was going, damn it. He wasn’t going to let that bastard Eric win.

Dean sipped slowly at the glass of orange juice Sam returned with. Making sure each drink stayed where it belonged before he took another. He was rather pleased actually how well the juice went down. He hoped the food Sam was making for him did the same.

When the younger boy returned with the plate of eggs and toast, Dean didn’t even complain about the lack of bacon. He gave Sam another thankful smile.

“Sure, I’ll take the remote. Thanks.” Dean said as he picked up a slice of toast and took a bite he hoped didn’t look overly cautious. His grin turned a little wicked when Sam mentioned the shower. “I’m still waiting on that sponge bath. Since you’re my nurse and all, now.”

Sam felt the blush creep up his cheeks at the look Dean gave him. He didn't begin to know how to give a sponge bath. He could…try he supposed. Bobby wouldn't be home for awhile yet. He really didn't want Bobby come in seeing him give Dean a bath. And Dean probably wouldn't mind a light wash down. Who was he kidding? Dean would love a light wash down, but what Sam meant was that Dean could probably use it. He knew Dean wasn't allowed to shower for a few days because of the stitches, or at least, couldn't get the stitches wet. A sponge bath would probably feel kinda nice. He'd never had one that he could recall, so he had no idea.

So what would he use? Buckets, they probably had left over cleaners and stuff, still what else was there? The trash can. The trashcan in the bathroom. He could wash it out and that would be pretty good to use, he thought. So….a soapy wash cloth, a rinse cloth and a towel. Without a word he headed back to the guest bathroom with his clothes. He turned on the water and pulled out the bag of trash in the trashcan. He washed the can out really good, even wiping it down with some alcohol and then washed it again. Throwing a couple towels over his shoulder, he decided a hand towel would make a good rinse cloth and picked up a fresh one, then took everything out to Dean. He set the trashcan on the floor and towels on the coffee table.

"Okay. Sponge bath. I have no idea what I'm doing so no making fun of me."

Sam stripped off his shirt, dunked the wash cloth in the water and lightly soaped it. "Okay, I guess we'll start with your chest. Keep this towel over your side so the bandages don't get wet."

Dean couldn’t help but grin even more as he watched the color rising to Sam’s cheeks at so little provocation. He knew he could have lots of fun today just trying to see how many shades of red Sam could turn. Though he might want to take it a little easy, he wouldn’t want to have to explain to Bobby why Sam suddenly spontaneously combusted.

Though the longer Sam sat there, just looking at him and blushing, the harder it was to keep from snickering. Dean could practically see the wheels turning in Sam’s head and he wondered what Sam was thinking about. The fact that the younger boy hadn’t flat out told him ‘no’ like the previous times Dean had joked about it was definitely promising though.

When Sam finally just got up without saying anything and left the room, Dean did laugh a little. Ah well, it was worth it anyway just to see the younger boy blush again.

He started eating again, figuring that Sam was just going to take his own shower now, so he was a bit surprised when the younger boy returned with the trash can filled with water and some towels. Sam was really going to? Ok, he’d only been half joking about the suggestion, but he certainly wasn’t going to refuse.

Dean set the mostly empty plate aside and grinned at Sam.

“No making fun. Cross my heart.” He replied, making the motion across his chest, before leaning back against the couch cushions. Taking the towel from Sam and holding it over the bandages on his side as requested. Letting his eyes roam freely over the younger boy’s exposed chest appreciatively. After the day he’d had yesterday, this was definitely an improvement.

Sam began to slowly wash around Dean's neck, making a few swipes with the soapy rag then following up with the rinse rag. He tried hard to keep any water from dribbling down Dean's chest, chasing stray dribbles with the rinse rag.

"Why don't I do your back, because that'll probably be hardest on you, then you can lean back while I do your chest."

He helped Dean shift and lean forward and he repeated how he'd done Dean's neck. He marveled at the muscles as he ran the rag over Dean's back. He traced over a few scars, the skin shiny and glistening white. So many scars considering Dean's age. He watched in fascination the way the water played over Dean's muscles, the way the soap bubbles rolled down Dean's back. He quickly draped the spare towel along Dean's lower back to keep from getting the couch wet. He wondered what it would be like to use his tongue to trace along those muscles, lick across the scars, and wondered if Dean would like that. When Dean was better, maybe he'd try that and see. Would it feel as good for Dean as when Sam sucked and toyed with Dean's nipples? Probably not but it might still draw some interesting sounds out of the senior. Damn Eric anyhow. He wasn't going to be able to make out with Dean until the stitches healed. At least, he probably shouldn't.

After finishing the slow, long strokes on Dean's back he did Dean's sides, trying to be careful not to tickle. That was the last thing Dean needed. He moved to the youth's shoulders next. "Okay, let's lean you back now," Sam said and once again helped Dean ease back, making sure Dean didn't put any stress on his stitches.

"Arms now," Sam said and ran the soapy rag over his biceps then lifted his arm and made a gasping sound. "Stink City!"

Sam grinned then and laughed at the look on Dean's face. "I'm joking. Mostly." He giggled and worked his way down the rest of Dean's arm. When he reached Dean's hand he turned it palm up and ran the rag over it, looking up briefly into Dean's face. The way Dean watched him was somewhere between unnerving, embarrassing, and flattering.

Sam did Dean's other arm, having to lean across him a little. He could feel Dean's body heat and felt his cock twitch. He tried to ignore it, ignore being so close to the senior's body but it was hard. He glanced sidelong at Dean. "Stop that. You're gonna make me blush or something again."

Sam was really more concerned about the 'something.' He didn't want to get distracted, but he knew he was probably being more sensual in running the rag over Dean than he would have been with someone else. He couldn't deny he was enjoying the almost innocent investigation of Dean's body.

After getting fresh suds on the rag he began on Dean's chest, again taking his time and being thorough and loving every freaking moment of running that rag over the senior's chest. At this point his cock was definitely taking notice.

With a soft sigh, Dean felt himself relaxing even more when Sam began washing around his neck and collar bone with the wet rag. It felt surprisingly nice. Though he wasn’t all that sure if it was just the warm water or the fact that it was Sam doing the washing that made it so nice. He could definitely get used to this.

Though when Sam suggested that he lean forward to do his back first, Dean made a face, but he complied anyway. The younger boy was probably right, best to get the unpleasant part out of the way first, but knowing that didn’t make bending forward any easier. His bruised side, especially where the stitches pulled, protesting quite a bit.

Dean didn’t voice his discomfort though. Merely closed his eyes and focused on the more pleasant sensations of the warm rag running over his shoulders and down his back. The feel of Sam’s fingers tracing over his muscles. The scent of the younger boy so close… He could tell the way Sam’s fingers ghosted along his skin that the younger boy was examining his various scars he’d collected over the years. Both gained from hunting and… before.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Sam thought of all his scars. Was the younger boy disgusted by them? That seemed unlikely, given the careful way Sam examined them. Dean wasn’t sure what he was going to say if Sam ever asked him about them though. Hell, not even Bobby knew where he got most of his scars from. Sure, the older man knew where he’d gotten the ones from hunting, but not the others. Dean didn’t like talking about it…

Dean was both glad and a little disappointed when Sam told him to lean back again. Relaxing back against the couch cushions he watched the younger boy, letting Sam maneuver him any way he liked. Though when Sam lifted his arm and made his exclamation, Dean raised an eyebrow then rolled his eyes at the younger boy. Trying to look put upon and not laugh. Though it was difficult considering the way Sam was giggling. Giggling. Dean couldn’t help smiling fondly at the younger boy as he watched Sam work.

He couldn’t help but chuckle a little when Sam accused him of trying to make him blush again.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Dean replied innocently. Even as he let his eyes trail over Sam’s neck and down his chest when the younger boy leaned in close to him. It was all Dean could do to keep his hands at his sides, letting Sam work, and not reach around to hug Sam closer to him, pressing their bodies together, instead.

He couldn’t deny his body’s reaction’s however, the growing heaviness in his groin from the younger boy’s proximity and Sam’s touch no matter how innocent. When Sam began washing his chest, Dean sighed contentedly. Watching as the younger boy moved the rag slowly over his muscles, leaving suds and dripping water down his chest. Until he finally reached up to catch Sam’s hand, taking the rag from him as he moved Sam’s fingers to touch his bare skin rather than having the cloth separate them.

Sam's gaze flicked to Dean's face when Dean grabbed his hand. Sam shook his head, a shy smile curving his lips, but began using his hand to wash Dean's chest. He liked the smooth slick skin under his fingers and feeling the muscles that seemed to somehow both tense and relax under his touch. He used the rinse rag to keep the soap from dripping too far down Dean's stomach.

"Keep that towel against your stitches," Sam scolded. "I shouldn't be doing this. The last thing you need is to be getting all riled up." He shifted a little uncomfortably. "I seem to be doing enough of that for the both of us." He blushed at the admission. "You are utterly and completely evil, you know that? You make me blush at everything. I'm not…geez, I have never blushed like you make me blush. Doesn't exactly do a lot for making me feel manly and crap you know," Sam teased. Even though he told Dean he shouldn't get riled up Sam just couldn't resist running his hands over Dean's nipples. "I like the way your wet skin feels under my hand," he admitted softly. "Maybe…maybe when you're better we can workout, you training me to fight and all, and then maybe…maybe we could try showering together or something." He snorted a little. "No, that's probably a bad idea cause then I'll end up with a woody every day in gym class when we're getting our showers and that would be more embarrassing than anything."

He wanted to lean in and kiss Dean, but he knew, just knew where that would lead and Dean was in no shape for that. And cleaning up cum from the couch and carpet? Yeah, not something he wanted to do today.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the look Sam gave him. Scolding and shy at the same time but he noticed that Sam didn’t protest in the least and simply started stroking his chest with his wet soapy fingers. The younger boy’s fingers almost massaging his skin, making Dean sigh at the pleasant feeling that was just as relaxing as it was arousing. Watching the younger boy through hooded eyelashes as Sam worked.

Though his lips twitched at Sam’s words and how the younger boy was blushing yet again. Sam might not like blushing so much, but Dean certainly enjoyed it.

“I know. I like it when you blush.” Dean replied simply, grinning, when Sam called him evil. Maybe he was ‘evil’ but Sam was the one playing with his nipples, making his thickening cock twitch a little at the attention. A soft moan escaping his lips in spite of himself.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam’s idea. Showering together? Not that he didn’t like the idea but he was just surprised to hear Sam suggest it. Considering how shy and innocent Sam behaved most of the time. Though the younger boy did have his passionate moments, he couldn’t deny that.

“I think you’re not quite as innocent as you pretend to be.” Dean teased back, running his hand up the length of Sam’s bare arm to the back of the younger boy’s neck. Letting his fingers play through the soft hair there for a moment then tugging Sam a little closer to him.

“You know what will make me feel even better?” He whispered softly.

"I am too innocent!" Sam protested. "You just make me horny," he added sheepishly. He rolled his neck at Dean's gentle touch. Smiling he laughed a little. "Yeah, and you're way too bruised and hurt for that. If I start to kiss you…I won't wanna stop." Even after saying those words, he still leaned in and gave Dean a light kiss but pulled back before Dean could deepen it. "No," he told him firmly. "Behave. I would positively die if Bobby came back and we were in the middle of your sponge bath…or something else."

After rinsing Dean's chest free of the suds he wiped his chest dry of the water. He grabbed the blanket and flipped it off Dean's legs and up, across his chest, and over his head. "Anyone ever tell you you have like tree-trunks for legs? You could probably kick down a brick wall with these muscles."

Sam hissed when he saw all the bruising that ran up Dean's left side of his leg. "I wanna kill that fucking bastard," he muttered darkly. Sam soaped up his hands and very gently ran one of those hands over the bruising while he took the rinse cloth and tenderly wiped away the suds. When he moved to Dean's inner thigh with that hand he raised an eyebrow. "I think you're enjoying this way too much for your condition, Dude," he teased, but swallowed hard, forcing his gaze away from Dean's tenting undershorts. He doggedly focused on Dean's legs as he washed them, unable to help but admire the ropes of muscles he found there. "God you are so…perfect," Sam whispered as he dried Dean's legs.

So this was it. He was down to Dean's privates. The absurd thought came into his head that since Dean was already pretty erect, it would make washing easy. He suddenly pushed himself to his feet.

"I'll be right back," he told Dean and headed upstairs to Dean's room. Looking at the bureau, considering the other surprises he had found in this house and Dean's car, he decided he didn't want to rummage and find something he didn't want to know about. He turned and called back down. "Dude, which drawer has fresh underwear in it?"

Dean couldn’t help but laugh loudly at Sam’s declaration that he was innocent, and that it was his fault for making the younger boy horny. Ok, maybe he was a lot more pleased with himself than he should be at that, but he didn’t really care. Giving the younger boy a shit eating grin, he wanted to protest that he wasn’t too sore if Sam did all the work, before Sam leaned in to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and made a definite sound of approval, flicking his tongue out to lick at Sam’s sweet lips, but before he could do anything more the little tease was pulling away again. Dean stuck his lower lip out in an over exaggerated pout, though he did have to agree with Sam, even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud. He definitely didn’t want Bobby to come back and find them in the middle of anything. Even if the older man seemed to accept that he and Sam were fucking… best not push it.

Dean snorted in amusement both at Sam’s playfulness and his comments regarding his legs when Sam flipped the blanket covering his legs up over his head. He shook his head free and tossed it over the back of the couch instead, running his fingers through his short hair to get rid of the static.

When Sam’s expression turned darker, Dean reached down to run his fingers lightly through Sam’s hair again in a soothing motion even though his sentiment was much the same. Eric was going to wish he’d fucking killed him with that damned stunt once Dean was through with him.

Though Dean couldn’t deny he was really enjoying the fact that Sam hadn’t taken up his rag again, instead using his hands to gently soap up and down his legs and along his thighs. His lips quirking when Sam mentioned his ‘enjoyment’ considering his ‘condition’. Well, he was bruised and concussed, he wasn’t dead.

He was surprised by the light color that blossomed on his own cheeks when Sam called him ‘perfect’. Sure he’d been praised about his looks and his body plenty of times, but the way Sam said it…

Then the younger boy was staring at his crotch and damn if that didn’t just make him a little bit harder still… at least until Sam suddenly jumped up and ran off and Dean wasn’t sure whether to be amused or disappointed. When he heard Sam run up the stairs and then seconds later call down asking him about underwear, he settled on amused and there was laugher in his voice as he answered.

“Top drawer.” Dean called back up, leaning his head back against the couch cushions with his hands folded behind it as he waited for Sam to return.

Sam retrieved a pair of clear underwear for Dean and came back down the stairs. He set them on the chair and looked at Dean. "Now comes the fun part. Getting the old ones off without you having to move too much."

Realizing what he just said, about the 'fun part', Sam felt his cheeks color. "No, wait! That isn't what I meant. I mean, I didn't mean it *that* way." He huffed and sank down to his knees. "Oh, fuck it. You know what I mean." He glared at Dean and his obvious amusement.

Sam drew upon his nerves to do what he had to do next. It was stupid he was so nervous about it. It was just, well, embarrassing. He took hold of Dean's underwear. "Okay you lift and I'll get them down," he told him, trying not to feel awkward and embarrassed by it all.

When Dean lifted up a little is was enough for Sam to get his undershorts down and off of him. He couldn't help but stare at Dean in his full naked glory. He blinked and looked up at Dean. "Um, do you want me to, you know, or do you want to, um wash it yourself?"

Dean turned his head slightly when Sam returned and he couldn’t help but grin when Sam started talking and almost immediately started blushing at the same time. It wasn’t even his fault this time, which was the most amusing part. He was going to have to tease Sam later about his ‘dirty’ thoughts. He didn’t want to do it right now, because he was afraid the younger boy might just bolt on him and Dean couldn’t exactly follow.

“I know what you mean.” Dean replied, grinning meaningfully at the younger boy kneeling on the floor practically between his legs.

Dean knew he probably should be doing this by himself. Or at least offer to, since Sam seemed so nervous about it, but really, Dean wasn’t sure he could get his undershorts off without bending and he really didn’t want to bend again anytime soon if it was all possible. His side was still hurting something fierce from the first time.

So when Sam grabbed the waistband of his underwear, Dean did his best to help, balancing on his good foot and lifting his hips up a little so the younger boy could drag them down off his legs. Sam certainly didn’t seem all that shy about staring at his cock once he’d gotten his undershorts off though, and that made Dean smile.

Dean thought for a moment about Sam’s question before asking, “Do you want to?”