Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester
Word Count 100 x 2
Disclaimer: Don't own them
Two separate drabbles on a related theme: Dean's broken his leg; he's bearing his misfortune with dignity and fortitude.
No, really ...
Dean looked unnervingly small as he lay in his hospital bed swathed in bandages, bedlinen and a vast array of traction equipment elevating his fractured leg.
What didn't look small was the spectacularly pouty frown adorning his face.
"What's all this crap for?" he whinged woozily, casting a slightly cross-eyed glare at the assortment of weights and pulleys that wouldn't have looked out of place in a medieval torture chamber.
"It's for pulling and stretching your bones and muscles back into place," Sam replied patiently.
"Stretching?" Dean perked Sam nodded; "sorry, dude, you still won't be taller than me though".
Dean hadn't realised that a broken leg would cause this much suffering.
It was relentless; keeping him awake overnight and tormenting him during the day.
He'd tried to deal with it, but the weight of plaster encasing his mangled leg cruelly prevented any succour.
With his leg hoisted up in the so-bad-not-good-traction-device-of-utter-a
When he got out of this damn place he was so doing crunches forever.
He lay back, sunken miserably into the lumpy mattress and sighed.
Asking for help sucked.
"Please will you scratch my foot."