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“Only you, Chief. Only you.” Benny examined the two deep puncture wounds on Dean’s thigh. “We gotta get you to the hospital. Why didn’t you say anything the day of the barbecue?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I disinfected it, wrapped it up, thought I was fine. That meat wasn’t gonna cut itself.”
“Obviously you didn’t disinfect it well enough,” Sam snapped. “Disinfected wounds aren’t oozing pus two days later.”
“C’mon, Sam, just shut up,” Dean snapped. “Lesson learned, and I’m not going to a hospital, Benny. Can’t go to a hunter for help either, they’ll think you did this to me. Just gotta suck it up and tough this out.”
“Dean, I promise you, hospitals have seen weirder,” Benny said. “No one is gonna judge you.”
“I stabbed myself with a barbecue fork! I am not walking into a hospital and admitting that to a bunch of nurses!” Dean forced himself to his feet and started to limp off.
“How, exactly, did you do that, anyway?” Sam asked. “I mean, obviously it happened, but I’m really not seeing how you could be slicing brisket one minute and the next you’ve got a barbecue fork embedded in your thigh.”
Dean glared at Sam. “I heard a noise out in the hallway, figured the barbecue fork was probably my best defense against whatever it was because it was silver-plated…”
Benny tried and failed to hold in the snickers. “You have a silver-plated barbecue fork?”
“Lots of random stuff around here is silver-plated,” Sam said. “Men of Letters weren’t taking chances with being unprotected.”
“Yeah, but… c’mon, a barbecue fork? Really?” Benny managed to get the snickers under control, at least. “Okay. So you took your silver-plated barbecue fork out into the hall to check out a noise, instead of the bigass knife…”
“Oh, I took the knife, too,” Dean corrected. “And as I was almost at the door, my foot hit a grease spot I hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up. I fell forward, managed to get the knife thrown out of the way but landed thigh-first on the pointy end of the fork.”
“And it never occurred to you that a fork that you’d been using to chop meat that was a freakin’ puncture might need more than a splash of vodka for disinfecting?” Sam said. “Be honest. More of the disinfecting bottle went into your mouth than into the actual wound.”
Dean glared at Sam. “It’s meat. We eat it. We put it in our mouths. Even you eat it. How bad can it be? Besides, it was fresh out of the smoker, so it was hot. Hot kills germs.”
“Y’all really need to get a proper disinfectant, one that Dean ain’t tempted to drink,” Benny said while Sam was sputtering and trying to figure out where to even start with Dean. “Dean, you’re goin’ to the hospital if I have to knock you out first, because you need a proper antibiotic and no you can’t just steal one.”
“Watch me,” Dean muttered.
Sam finally found his voice. “Please tell me you didn’t keep using that fork to cut the meat once you’d treated your wound.”
“Benny was gonna be eating that meat! You think I’d screw with him like that?” Dean shouted. After taking a moment to compose himself, he added, “I did, but only after washing it very thoroughly. Not a trace of blood left, and don’t tell me I don’t know how to clean up blood, I’ve been doing it all my life.”
“Love the implication that you don’t mind feeding your brother or your friends your blood, there,” Benny said.
Dean limped over to Benny and wrapped him up in a good tight hug. “That’s not what I meant and Sam knows it. It’s just that when it’s you, I’m not taking any chances. Even with it being a safe way to consume it since I was already hurt, you don’t wanna taste my blood so it’s easier to fight the urge to feed. I get that, and I’m careful. I’m not a demon anymore, so it’s just gross if Sam or Jody or one of the girls eats some, not morality-threatening.”
Sam made a face. “Okay. Gross. Dean, you are never getting trusted to cut meat by yourself again. Did you ever figure out what you heard in the hallway?”
“Nope. Probably just an echo or something anyway. I haven’t noticed anything missing, we’re all fine except for my leg, so I don’t think it was serious.”
Benny cleared his throat. He was probably about to get his head ripped off, but he had to know. “There a reason you didn’t call Cas, or that we ain’t callin’ him now?”
“Cas is busy avoiding us,” Dean said. “If Sam knows why, he hasn’t bothered to share.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, either. Besides.” He held up his phone. “I texted him while we’ve been busy telling Dean off. I know Claire’s taught him how to text, so it’s not like he wouldn’t check a text notification.”
“That’s weird. Hope he’s okay.” Benny got his arms under Dean, scooping him up into a princess carry. “You wanna drive us to the hospital so I can get this idiot taken care of?”
“Sure.”
“You know I’m just gonna refuse treatment,” Dean grumbled. “You can’t force them to treat me with me fighting it.”
“I didn’t want it to come to this, Dean. I didn’t. I hate using this threat, because we both end up suffering if you call my bluff. Thing is, it’s not a bluff. I mean what I’m about to say. You refuse treatment, fine, that’s your right… but I’m gonna be sleeping in my own room until that wound’s healed. Completely healed, no more infection, no more scab, nothing. You are not invited.”
Sam put his hand to his mouth to hide his smile, digging in Dean’s pocket for the keys with his other hand. “You know, Brady told me once that sugar was bad for infections, it gave the bacteria something to feed on. Now, if you’re on antibiotics and the bacteria are weakened, it’s probably safe, but if you’re going without treatment… too big a risk for you to have any pie, Dean.”
Dean looked between them. “You’re not serious. You would never put up with me if I wasn’t getting laid or getting pie.”
“Try us.” Sam started for the Impala, Benny on his heels carrying Dean.