daylight_darknight | [Supernatural Fic] You Have to Carry Me

I finally finished the draft of a 3000+ word fic that I've been working on on and off for a year, but instead of editing it, a plot bunny leaps at me and I write this.

Title: You Have to Carry Me
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating/Warnings: PG for very minor swearing
Genre: Hurt Comfort, Humour, Family Fluff
Word Count: 712
Spoilers: None
Summary: Broken bones are just another part of being a Winchester.
Note: Inspired by something Dean said at the end of 7x02.

You Have to Carry Me
By Daylight

“Yeah, I’d say that’s definitely broken.”

Looking up from where he sat clutching his injured leg, Dean glared at his brother. “Well, thanks for the oh-so-helpful diagnosis, Doc.”

Sam sighed.

The hunt had been going so well. It had been a simple, old fashioned, vengeful spirit, a decades old murder the Winchester’s managed to solve in a day. It hadn’t even been hard to find the body hidden unsubtly under the floorboards in the kitchen.

Sam really wondered about the intelligence of law enforcement some days.

But then the spirit decided it really didn’t want its bones salted and burned, and suddenly the brothers were doing their usual flying act across the room, only this time Dean didn’t just shake his head and get back up as usual.

The spirit was dealt with easily enough, but now Sam had a bigger problem. Trying their best to be stealthy, the brothers had stashed the Impala several blocks away so the neighbours wouldn’t get suspicious, and now Sam somehow had to convince his stubborn, independent, pig headed, big brother that he couldn’t walk on that leg.

In other words, Sam had to convince Dean that he needed to be carried.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“You’re going to have to carry me.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. Okay, maybe it would be easy.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. I know there’s no way I’m going to be able to put any weight on this leg and the neighbours have probably heard the noise and called the police already, so let’s just get this over with.”

Bending down, Sam put one arm under Dean’s back and the other under his knees and letting out a grunt as he did so, slowly lifted. Dean might be shorter than him but he was by no means a small man. Once upright, Sam had to take a couple steps back to steady himself and shift Dean’s weight until he was sure he had a good grip.

He tried to be as gentle as he could, but he saw Dean grimace as his leg was jostled.

“I feel like a frigging baby,” Dean grumbled holding on with an arm across Sam’s shoulders.

Sam wisely held back a smile.

Heading out as quickly as he was able, Sam kicked open the front door. He did his best to be careful as he manoeuvred Dean through, but the older brother still let out a ‘Watch it!’ as his head brushed against the doorway.

Luckily, all was quiet when they got outside though Sam thought he could hear sirens in the distance.

“Thank God, it’s night,” said Dean as Sam made his way down the street still carrying his brother. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

Sam ignored him keeping an eye out for trouble.

“It’s like I’m a damn damsel in distress.”

"You'd prefer a fireman's carry?" Sam suggested.

"Hell, no. I'm not staring at your butt the whole way."

Sam snorted.

“You better not tell Bobby about this.”

Sam started humming quietly under his breath.

“Could you go a little easier, gigantor? You’d think with those long legs of yours you could manage a smooth ride.”

Sam’s humming grew louder.

“Please tell me you’re not humming what I think you’re humming.”

A smirk spread across Sam’s face as he continued to hum.

“Stop that!” Dean punctuated his remark with a swat to the back of Sam’s head.

Sam stopped humming as he staggered slightly. “Hey, you want me to drop you?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Shifting Dean’s weight once more, Sam started moving again at a steady pace down the street. They still had a couple more blocks to go, but they were out of sight of the house and the sirens had stopped. Once they reached the Impala, they’d need to head straight for the nearest hospital, but Sam could tell from the way Dean was acting that the break couldn’t be too bad. For once, they might be able to consider themselves lucky.

“Hurry it up slowpoke. When you’re waiting on me hand and foot for the next few weeks, I’m going to expect faster service.”

This time Sam started to sing.

“Oh God, no.”

Sam continued to carry his brother through the dark, suburban streets to the car; their passage marked by Dean’s groans and Sam’s enthusiastic singing.

“…He aint’ heavy. He’s my brother…”