Dizzojay's Dean Dreams (dizzojay) wrote,
Dizzojay's Dean Dreams

  • Location:
  • Mood:

Down Time - chapter 5 (conclusion)


Rating: T
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Humour
Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby, OFC
Spoilers/Warnings: None - no particular adherence to canon
Word Count: 8,300 (all five chapters)
Disclaimer: I don't own these wonderful people

The boys are recovering from 'flu and they both need some serious down time.
Dean's determined to make the most of it.

Dean drowsed quietly in his bed; eyes closed, a soft smile playing across his lips.

Reluctantly, he knew that he was going to have to make a 'recovery' soon. He couldn't stretch this 'bedridden with the 'flu' thing out much longer - both Sam and Diana had started talking about seeing doctors and stupid unnecessary crap like that. In the meantime however, he was going to enjoy his last day of relaxation. His smile widened as he thought he might even be able to sweet-talk a sponge-bath out of Diana if he played his cards right.

He licked his lips, shuddering with pleasure at the thought.

Suddenly he heard the Impala's doors slam shut and the beautiful growl as her engine fired up, he snapped open an eye.

Slowly, quietly, he pushed back the bedclothes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and tiptoed across the room to peer out of the window.

No Impala, and therefore, no Sam or Diana.

He allowed himself a broad grin.


Diana had informed him they were going out grocery shopping. Again! Jeez, heck how can two people do so much shopping, and take so friggin' long doing it?

He chuckled to himself as images of the two of them trying on dresses and discussing hair products crossed his mind.

But that was fine by him; they could take all the time they wanted.

Because while they were out indulging in a bit of retail therapy he could go downstairs and stock up on some proper chow; make up for all the grapes and oranges and chicken soup and other healthy shit that Diana was shoving down his neck.

He hopped into his sweatpants and trotted down the stairs.

As he headed toward the kitchen, he was accosted by Rumsfeldt who greeted him enthusiastically.

"Hey boy," he smiled, crouching down to tease the dog's ears, "good to see you buddy;" he ruffled Rumsfeldt's stocky shoulders, grinning as the joyful dog jumped up to lick his face, "hey - now don't you split on me," he smiled as he wrestled playfully with Rumsfeldt, "otherwise I'm gonna shave you bald and kick you out in the cold, understand?"

Rumsfeld wagged the stump of his tail wildly, seemingly unconcerned by Dean's threat.


Softly humming a tuneless rendition of Highway to Hell, Dean rooted enthusiastically through the pantry.

Careful not to take enough to draw attention, he picked up a bag of chips, and a pack of cookies.

Turning his attention to the refrigerator, he carved off several thick slices of ham and piled it into some sandwiches, slapping on a thick layer of mustard.

With plate of sandwiches in one hand, pack of cookies in the other and bag of chips hanging between his teeth, he was about to head back upstairs when he suddenly heard a noise behind him and spun round.


Sam stared at the figure standing in front of him. Dean, in turn, stood in wide-eyed shock staring back at Sam, the bag of chips gripped between his teeth still swaying slightly from his sudden movement. Guilt was written plainly all over his face.

He opened his mouth to speak and the chips fell to the floor.


"Uh yeah …" Sam replied hesitantly; "I forgot my wallet - Diana dropped me off about half a mile away and she went on to the store."

Dean's eyes widened further, the expression on his face drifting from shock to horror; "you let her drive my baby?"

"She'll be fine, she's a great driver," Sam replied calmly. He folded his arms and stared levelly at his brother; "you look better."

"Yeah feelin' a bit better," Dean replied, trying and failing to work a breathy weakness into his voice.
Sam eyed Dean's feast, "so I see."

He looked down at the floor and shook his head with a mirthless laugh.

"You've been fine for a while, that's it isn't it?" He sighed, "all the aches and coughs and sneezes; it's all been an act; so that's where the missing beers went."

Smiling weakly, Dean shrugged, "well Sammy what can I say? A man can't live on chicken soup forever."

"But … why have you been pretendin' to be sick?"

Dean rolled his eyes; "c'mon Sammy, use your imagination."

Now it was Sam's eyes that widened in horror; "Diana? Please tell me you haven't been pretending to be ill just so that you can get Diana feeling you up."

Dean grinned; "Got it in one, Sammy boy!"

Sam grimaced, "that's disgusting."

"Dean grinned; "Oh c'mon bro', lighten up;" his voice took on a defensive tone, "I've taken one for the team often enough in the crap that we have to deal with, I reckon I deserve a bit of down time with a lovely little hot and cold running nurse on tap."

Sam's face darkened with anger.

"You've been deceiving that woman just so you can get your perverted thrills?"

"Nothin' perverted about it," Dean countered; "she's human, hot and legal. Now if it were Rumsfeldt, that would …"

Sam glared. "You're an animal."

Dean shrugged nonchalently; "it's been said …"

"How could you?" Sam's voice took on a low, threatening tone.

Dean bristled in response, "hell Sam, what bug crawled up your ass and died? Haven't you ever seen a golden opportunity, and taken advantage of it?"

"No," Sam responded aggressively, "what you've been taking advantage of is a beautiful well-meaning young woman."

"Yeah, an' she's been loving it," Dean snapped back.

"Oh yeah?" Sam taunted, "well let's ask her when she gets back shall we?"

Dean's face dropped; "no, you can't tell her, dude!"

"Oh no, why not?"

"Well," Dean stammered helplessly; "she'll think I'm a total douchebag."

Sam folded his arms. "With good reason," he snorted furiously.

They both fell silent as the Impala pulled up outside.

Dean flushed with anger as he turned back to Sam. "Dude, I'm warnin' you, don't tell her," he jabbed his finger aggressively into Sam's chest.

"Give me one good reason why not," Sam snapped.

Unable to formulate a valid argument, Dean resorted to plain fact; "because I'll friggin' pop you one," he hissed furiously.


The door opened and Diana walked in weighed down with grocery bags; "hey guys ... Dean; good to see you up and about," she smiled brightly at the two men.

"Yeah, feelin' much better thanks," Dean mumbled into his chest.

Sam ignored him, stepping towards Diana with a warm smile; "hey Di, let me help you with those." He took the shopping bags and carried them to the table.

"Di, huh?" Dean muttered sourly.

Diana walked towards Dean and stroked his cheek; "you are looking better," she commented softly, her face genuinely alight with pleasure; "you've got a bit of colour in your cheeks."

"Uh, well, I had a great nurse," he muttered with a sheepish grin.

Carrying the shopping bags, Sam barged past him heading toward the pantry. "I'm telling her," he whispered angrily as he passed.

Dean knew this fight was a lost cause. For whatever reason, Sam's high falutin' morals had been deeply offended and he was royally pissed.

He felt hot tears of frustration pricking his eyes as he turned away from Sam, and his blurred vision fixed on his plate of sandwiches. The gnawing anger and regret in the pit of his stomach had chased away his appetite.

"I - uh - made you both some sandwiches;" he mumbled quietly; "thought you might be hungry when you got back." He pushed the plate towards Diana.

"Hey, thanks Dean," Diana replied brightly, eyeing the sandwiches. "I'm just gonna take Rumsfeldt out for a walk, and I'll have some when I get back." She looked over Dean's shoulder toward the pantry and raised her voice for Sam's benefit; "that's if Sam hasn't eaten them all by then."

"I'll try and control myself," Sam's teasing voice drifted from the pantry.

She led Rumsfeldt through the door and turned back with a little wave; "see you soon!"

Dean stood in the kitchen, listening to Sam, stacking shelves in the pantry and pointedly ignoring him.
"I'm going outside for some fresh air," he sighed, talking to no-one in particular; "there's way too much atmosphere in here."


Trudging across Bobby's yard, he approached the Impala; "hey Baby," he managed to muster a shaky smile; "at least you understand me."

Running a hand gently along her glossy bodywork, he opened the driver’s door and slid into the seat, inhaling deeply of her familiar comforting scent.

He allowed his head to drop back onto her upholstered seat back, and took in a deep shaky breath, palming a stray tear from his cheek.

"It wasn't so bad was it? he asked himself and his baby; "I mean it wasn't like I hurt her or anythin'; she didn't mind, she was lovin' it."

His hands caressed the steering wheel, "surely I deserve a little bit of TLC, don't I baby?"

He gave a long sigh, swallowing back salty tears.

Sam was such a sanctimonious bitch sometimes; he was so bristling with high principles and friggin' saintly morals, he didn't know how important it was to let go and have a good time occasionally.

It wasn't Dean's fault he came from the shallow end of the gene pool.


Then he saw it, as he sat in reflecting in sulky silence, a tiny flash of white in the rear view mirror.

Clambering onto his knees, he looked over the back of the seat, and saw for sure there was something white wedged down the back of the seat behind him.

He stepped out of the Impala and opened her back door, reaching down to extricate the little scrap of white fabric. White, silky fabric.

With a sharp tug, the trapped item came free, and his glum face stretched into a bemused smile as he stared at what he held in his hand.

A dainty pair of lacy panties …

Sammy boy, you sly fox!


Sam sat hunched at the kitchen table sipping his coffee when the door opened and Dean's head peered cautiously round it.

"Sam …" he called softly.

Sam looked up and his eyes narrowed angrily; "Dean, if this is just some lame attempt to try and justify yourself then forget it, I …"

Sam's words dribbled to silence as his eyes fixed on the panties Dean held up in front of him.

"What the hell …?"

"They were in the Impala." Dean's face twitched from the effort of trying not to grin. "Now, they're not mine, and unless you've developed some unusual sexual proclivities recently that I'm not aware of, then they're not yours; so I wonder whose they could be?" he pondered aloud.

Sam wilted.

"oh, shit!"

Dean cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his brother squirming in front of him.

"It was on the way back from the grocery store," Sam muttered blankly, looking up at Dean.

"Wow, romantic," Dean observed with a knowing nod.

"We just got talking, and she was telling me about some loser that she used to go out with, and then I told her about Jess - well sort of - and she said I looked sad so she leaned over and gave me a kiss then I gave her a kiss, and then ...

Dean held up a hand; "yeah, yeah, I get the picture!" he interrupted sharply.

"That was the first time," Sam sighed.

Dean's mouth dropped open in gleeful surprise; "the FIRST time? No wonder you were takin' so long when you wen' out to the store."

"Yeah …" Sam groaned.

Dean folded his arms, shaking his head in disapproval; "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy; how can you take advantage of that beautiful, well-meaning young woman?"

Sam bowed his head. "Because;" he hesitated before continuing, "because I like her – I like her a lot."
Remaining silent, Dean allowed him to continue.

"I know it's stupid, but that's why I was so pissed about you messing with her." He cleared his throat as he laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation; "she's smart, she's kind, she's beautiful and I think if I hang around here much longer I might fall in love with her."

Dean smiled, "okay dude, well, enjoy yourself for a while," he sat down opposite Sam, "take your big brother's advice for once an' take advantage of a good situation." He hesitated in thought for a moment; "say, the weather forecast is good for tomorrow, take her up on some windswept hillside somewhere an' read her some poetry or do whatever it is that you sensitive souls do."

Sam smiled sadly and shook his head, "no, now you're better, I want to leave tomorrow." Now it was his turn to blink back the tears; "the best thing I can do for her is get out of her life. Bobby wants to keep her away from the hunter’s life and all the dangerous crap that comes with it, and I'm with him 100% on that."
He looked up at Dean with sad puppydog eyes in full force. "I've been a complete dick, haven't I?" He sighed deeply; "I was mean to you and I'm so sorry bro'."

Dean smiled and squeezed his slumped shoulder, "nah, proud of ya, Sammy; you were only tryin' to protect the lady's honour."

There was a short silence between the two men.

"Although," Dean began hesitantly, "your fine example puts me in a difficult situation."

Sam looked up, "what?"

"Well, I should do the decent thing and tell her devoted uncle that someone's been banging his beloved niece in the back of the Impala."

Sam couldn't help but smile; "I know, know, I deserve this," he chuckled, nodding slowly.

Dean grinned; "don't worry, dude; I'll make sure I hide his bolt cutters first."


Tags: bobby singer, dean winchester, fan fiction, humour, hurt comfort, sam winchester

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded