sasha_dragon (sasha_dragon) wrote,
sasha_dragon
sasha_dragon

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Happy Birthday Dean!

Friends, Romans, Fl*sters, well Dean’s birthday has come and gone, and sadly I missed it by minutes! To celebrate our boy’s birthday, I decided to scribble a little piece of fan girl insanity.  I hope you like it.


“Sam if you don’t stop friggin’ fusing over me, I swear when I can move. I’ll tie you to a chair and shave all your damn hair off.” Dean cursed miserably at his brother, as Sam plumped the pillow propping him up for the thousandth time.

“Oh I’m sorry I’m a little concerned about you, it’s not as if you’re injured or anything is it?”  Sam said waspishly, as he straightened to his full height.

Dean looked up and smiled lazily, enjoying the perfect Sammy bitch face. Complete with arm gestures, as Sam put his hands on his hips and huffed at him. “It’s just been a rough few days at the office, nothing to get excited about Sammy.” He said waving a dismissive hand, and bit back a groan as the small movement set off a catalogue of aches and pains through his battered body.

Sam stood there slack jawed, “Just a rough few days at the office? Jesus Dean!  I went through three packets of dental floss stitching you up.” Sam threw up his hands in despair, at his idiot older brother.

Sam started to pace back and forth, “You know if I didn’t know better, I’d swear we’ve been hit with some sort of curse.” He stopped and looked wild eyed at Dean, “You don’t think, do you?” He asked shakily.

Dean tried to push himself higher up the bed, his uninjured arm shaking with strain, “I think we can count that out, no hex bags remember. And we haven’t pissed any witches off since you insulted that one back in Boston, and she turned you into a girl. “Dean nodded gratefully, as Sam moved forward to help settle him higher up the bed.

Sam blushed and muttered, “Didn’t turn me into a girl.” He plumped Dean’s pillow, with a little more vigour than before.

Dean’s head bounced around as Sam worked, “No that’s true, she just made you think you were a girl.  I must admit you were adorable in those braids, and your nails painted pink to match your shirt.  I always wanted a little sister.”  Dean ignored Sam’s pout, “If it’s not a curse, what about a trickster? You’ve got to admit, some of the shit that’s happened to me this week is right up their alley.”

Sam looked at him thoughtfully, and sat on the other bed. He ran his fingers through his hair, “Could be, I think we can safely say you’ve been hoisted on your own petard so to speak. I mean who knew you could get shot in the same shoulder twice within forty eight hours.”

Dean rolled his eyes and clutched his wounded arm, “Don’t remind me, so what’s our next move try to track it down, or call Cas for help?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, “Well I think we could do with reinforcements, I’ll call Cas.”  He turned to the bedside table and reached for his phone.

There was a knock at the door and the brothers froze, then Sam stood up and walked over to the door.  He paused by the table and picked up his gun, he looked over at Dean and saw his brother reach beneath his pillow for the ever present knife. Sam squared his shoulders and looked through the peep hole, “I don’t friggin’ believe it!” He said as he stood up, and slid the gun into his waist band. He reached for the door knob.


“Who is it Sam?” Dean said, as his little brother opened the door.

Sam stared at the group of women stood in the door way, “I might’ve known, you lot had something to do with this.” He glared down at them, ignoring the whimpers coming from a couple of them.

He also ignored the softly spoken, “God, he’s so hot when he’s all protective of Dean.”

Sam stepped back and pointed to the centre of the room, “In here now!” He stood there impassively as they filed past him, and gritted his teeth when one of the women said, “I get all tingly when he takes control like that.” Sam closed the door and stood there, his arms folded across his chest.

Dean sighed, great now he was getting a headache, well actually he was getting he was getting five headaches. “Ahh come on, what are you lot doing here?” He asked the five sheepish looking fan girls, gathered at the foot of his bed.

“I think we’ve just discovered the root cause of your recent run of bad luck, Dean.”  Sam growled, ignoring the way Milly shivered at the sound of his voice.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, “What? Tell me you’re joking.” Then moaned as he jolted his injured shoulder.  The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a group of want to be Florence Nightingales. His bedclothes were being straightened, his not so fevered forehead was being mopped and…”If that hand is not removed from my thigh, in the next five seconds. I’ll get Sam to break out the salt rounds, and start blasting.”

Sasha blushed and stepped back, “What? You can’t blame a girl for trying!” She said as her friends glared at her.

Sam stepped in and herded the women away from his wounded brother, “Ok start talking, how come it’s open season on Dean all of a sudden?”

The women shuffled and coughed, and finally Dizzo was pushed forward “Well as its Dean’s birthday today, there’s been a special hurt/comfort challenge set up.  And well, we might have been writing.” She finished and took a step back, as Sam looked longingly at the duffle bag filled with weapons.

Dean whimpered softly, and the women took a step forward to offer comfort to their wounded warrior. But they stopped when Sam glowered at them.

“You mean all of this, is down to a goddamn writing challenge?”  Sam shouted waving at Dean, then ran his fingers through his hair so forcefully it stood up on end.

The women stood and stared at Sam, and then Wings leant towards Milly and whispered, “Is it me or is Sam’s hair brushing the ceiling? Do you think we should tell him to move away from the ceiling fan, before he has an accident?” Milly hummed absent minded, as she scribbled some notes for the next hurt Sam challenge.

Sam sighed and smoothed his hair down, “Well?”

Milly stopped writing and smiled, “Errm I might be responsible for the broken ribs, sorry Dean.”  She said.

Wings looked over at Dean, “In that case, I was really sorry about that unfortunate incident with the shower and the hot red head.” She winced as Dean glared at her, “Well in my defence, you have said shower sex is complicated.”

Dean looked at the other three fan girls, “Well, have you three got anything to say for yourselves?”

Dizzo and JJ were arguing softly, and after a quick round of Rock, Paper, Scissors, Dizzo stepped forward, “We’re sorry about the whole shooting you in the left shoulder twice, but Dean you really need to do something about the bullet magnet in it.”

Finally Sam looked at Sasha, who seemed to be finding the mouldy motel carpet utterly fascinating. He coughed and Sasha looked up, “Who me?” She rubbed at her neck nervously, “Oh alright, I’m really sorry about that bear trap, how is the ankle by the way?” She said to Dean.

Dean looked at her sourly, “The ankle is fine, but my boots are a right off, and planting the damn thing in my baby? Is nothing sacred to you lot?” He asked plaintively.

Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, “No, his ankle is not fine, I’m pretty sure it’s broken.  But I can’t take him to the damn hospital, because of the two bullet holes in him. Well are you going to fix him or what?” Sam glared at the fan girls, and tapped his foot impatiently.

Once again Wings stepped forward, “Well you see that’s the problem, because all of these little problems landed at once.  There’s going to be a bit of a delay in the healing part.”

Sam moaned and sat on the end of the bed, he accidentally caught Dean’s injured ankle and his brother howled in pain.  Sam leapt to his feet, “Shit, I’m sorry man.”  He said helplessly.

Milly tapped Sam on the shoulder, “Look we can’t reverse the injuries straight away, but we’re going to do what we can to make you and Dean more comfortable.” Milly lead Sam to the other bed, and sat beside him.

Sam watched as the other fan girls sat round the table and produced Lap tops.  They started to type, and suddenly Sam noticed subtle changes to the décor of the room.  The water stains disappeared along with the musty odour. His bed no longer sagged in the middle, and the sheets had gone from being a disgusting shade of green and scratchy. Now they were soft white Egyptian cotton.

“Hey can I smell pie?”  Dean asked excitedly, as the room was filled with the aroma of freshly baked pie.

Dizzo walked over and handed him a piece, “This is to apologize for the food poisoning.”

Dean looked at her, “What food poisoning?” Then he went pale and clutched at his stomach, “Seriously?” He asked weakly Sam took the pie off him.

 “Sorry Sam, we promise we’re working on this.  It should only be a mild case, and if you want any help giving Dean a sponge bath just let me know.”  JJ offered sympathetically.

Before Sam could snarl at JJ, Dean clutched the worn flannel of his plaid shirt and curled up against him, “Sammy.” Dean said brokenly.

 Sam rubbed Dean’s back trying to ease some of his discomfort, and he frowned at the heat his brother’s body was giving off, “A fever? Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” He said in frustration, “Is there anything else I should know about? How about a small dose of Plague or what about a little stigmata?”  His eyes narrowed and he glared at Dizzo and Sasha, “If I see one welt on his back, there’s going to be trouble, right!”

Sasha and Dizzo stopped typing for a few seconds, and Sam noticed Sasha pressing delete rapidly. He sighed and looked at Dean, his brother was staring up at him. His green eyes bright and unfocused with fever, Sam placed his hand over Dean’s and stroked his thumb back and forth. Sam bit his lip and leant forward, “You know there is a way we can stop this Dean.”

Dean shivered, “What are you talking about Sam?” His teeth chattered as he spoke, and then his grip on Sam’s shirt tightened, “Hell no Sam, we’re not making a deal.  You know how that works out.” He begged.

Sam patted Dean’s hand, “Look, they’re just Fan Girls. We’re not talking about doing a deal with Crowley here.”

“No they’re friggin’ worse. They’ll probably have you serving them Sex on the Beach in nothing but a thong.” Dean said.

There was a thud, and the brothers looked over to find Milly in a heap on the floor. Sam turned back to Dean and smiled, ”Look I promise no one will be serving anything in a thong. Trust me, I was almost a lawyer.” Sam looked over to the Fan Girls, and with his best and brightest smile spoke, “Ladies I think we can sort something out.”

Dean sighed in contentment as he finished his third helping of pie, Sasha appeared beside him and took the plate off him, “Was that ok Dean?  Do you want another piece, or would you like a cup of coffee.” She hovered by him hopefully.

Dean grinned at her and winked, smiling as Sasha’s glasses steamed up.  “Naw I’m fine, I might watch a little television now.” He heard typing and a fifty inch screen filled the wall opposite, it burst into life and an episode of Doctor Sexy started.

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, he smiled as Dean settled down to watch his favourite guilty pleasure.  He looked over at the fan girls, and mouthed thank you at them.  Then he went back to his book.

The five of them huddled together and Dizzo looked over at Dean, who had fallen asleep and was snoring softly. “I admit it I had my doubts when the plan was suggested, but I’m glad to say it worked. Who knew beating the crap out of Dean, would mean he’d end up spending a happy birthday his brother. ” She said with a smile.

JJ nodded, “Very true, and to be fair I’ve enjoyed helping with the sponge baths.”  She sighed, “He has such magnificent shoulders, doesn’t he?” She asked to a chorus of nods.

Milly joined in, “You have to hand it to Sam, that speech he gave us about Dean brought a tears to my eyes. Plus Dean got to hear how much Sam loves him, and don’t forget Sam thinks he conned us into taking care of both of them.”  Milly watched Sam fondly as he too fell asleep. Then she turned to her fellow fan girls, “Right then, what are we going to do for Sam’s birthday then?”











 
Tags: fan girl verse
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