me, to myself through gritted teeth, after watching a new show and liking literally hundreds of posts relating to it: okay now pick the PERFECT one and ONLY reblog that one because you need to show some goddamn SELF-CONTROL. MAYBE put one in the queue. don’t overdo it this time
me, a day later: hi guys so i’ve switched fandoms,
Okay, so I got this fic idea that I know I’m not able to write, so I’m going to throw it out for anyone who wants to use the idea.
So basically, a lot of times, with Nursey and Dex, when we imagine one of them visiting the other over the summer, it’s usually Nursey going to Dex, right? It’s tough for Dex to go to NYC because of his job and family and yes, finances. But I’m thinking, what if, after they start dating, Dex gets the idea that it might be nice to surprise Nursey in NYC, so he starts saving with the intention being that if their relationship lasts until summer, he’s going to take some time and do it (he’s pretty sure the look on Nursey’s dumb face when he shows up unannounced alone will make the trip worthwhile). And he has some ideas about what they might do, except that when he gets there, Nursey just excitedly starts rattling off the kinds of things and places that only New Yorkers would know about that he wants to take Dex to. And who is Dex to say no to excited Nursey? And they have all sorts of cute moments around the city.
So, can y’all see my problem? I’m just a Michigan boy who’s never set foot in NYC, so I can’t possibly write this. But I really want a fic of it! Can I interest any NYC-area fic writers to do it for me? Please???
Dean’s hurt, but not in the frantic, bleeding out right now way that leaves bloody fingerprints on Sam’s jacket collar and sick panic churning in his gut for days. This is much more mundane—a couple of sprained ribs they could easily deal with on their own, and a broken ankle Dean bitches about the whole two hours they spend staggering through the woods back to the car together in the pale predawn light, white-faced and hissing through his teeth. (Sam feigns annoyance, but in reality the sound is music to his ears. If Dean is complaining, it means he’s not hurt that bad, and everything’s gonna be fine.)
Setting the ankle themselves is a risky move if they want it to heal properly. So, hospital. Once they check in at urgent care—My brother’s ankle is broken. Hunting accident.—Sam sits through several more minutes of Dean’s whining, after which Dean promptly passes out in the hard plastic chair until a nurse comes to fetch him. He’s fine, of course, but getting thrown ten feet against a tree by an angry wendigo would be enough to exhaust just about anyone.
Dean’s in there for a long time while they take x-rays, set the break, and get him fitted with a cast and crutches. In the meantime, Sam hangs around in the waiting room; he drinks a couple cups of cheap watery hospital coffee, sprawls out in one of the chairs and plays around on his phone. He texts Jody to let her know the wendigo’s dead and burned, and Dean’s hurt but not bad, and they should be back at her place by tonight.
He’s dreaming of fantastic water pressure and a warm bed and absently scrolling through news sites for potential cases when a pointed dry cough interrupts him. Dean’s standing in front of him, leaning on crutches, looking pale and irritated but less like he’s in excruciating pain. He’s watching Sam with an expression of shock, dismay, annoyance, and intense disappointment. One of his patented older-brother looks.
Sam rolls his eyes, tamping down on the fresh wave of giddy relief that floods him at seeing his brother alive and upright again. “What?” he says flatly.
“Dude,” Dean says. “‘Everytime You Go Away’? Really?”
It’s only then that Sam consciously takes note of the tinny music playing through the waiting room speakers, and the fact that he’s been singing along softly. He fights through the accompanying rush of embarrassment, squares his jaw and looks up at Dean. “So? It’s not a bad song.”
Dean turns and starts hobbling away so fast Sam is surprised he doesn’t stumble. Wearily, Sam stands, stretches his stiff joints and follows after his brother.
Dean’s halfway across the parking lot before Sam catches up to him. They walk in silence back to the car together, where Dean begrudgingly allows Sam to take his crutches and help him into the passenger seat, a little unsteady from the pain meds they gave him.
Sam thinks that might be it, until he gets in the driver’s side and turns the ignition. Dean’s eyes are already half-closed and his head is lolling against the headrest, but he spares Sam a sidelong glance as the car rumbles to life and says, “You ever say anything like that again and you’re dead to me.”
“Hm,” Sam says thoughtfully. “Might wanna be careful what you say while I’m driving your car.”
Dean says, hazily, “You wouldn’t dare,” and then he’s asleep again, breathing deep and even and snoring softly.
Sam has been awake for more than twenty-four hours. Part of him wants nothing more than to pull over at the nearest hotel and sleep for a week. But Dean’s tucked up comfortable on the bench next to him, and he’ll be out of commission for a few weeks at least. There’s food and good company and a warm bed waiting at Jody’s, down the road. He’ll have plenty of time to rest when they get there.
(In the meantime, he switches the radio to an 80s soft rock station while Dean’s passed out, settles in for the ride.)