Work Text:
Dean was twisting his hands, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He hadn’t heard any updates on Sam for an hour and twenty-two minutes which he couldn’t for the life of him decide if was a good sign or not. Last time he heard anything, they said that Sam was being taken up to surgery and that they needed a signature. That was also the last time he had seen John— he had gone somewhere, unable to sit still in the cold, uncomfortable plastic chairs that every hospital waiting room seemed to have.
Dean was still wearing his dress shirt and suit pants. His cap and gown were all but neatly folded on the chair next to him, and his tie had long ago been loosened and disregarded of. Dean was supposed to be sitting on uncomfortable plastic chairs, on a football field, waiting to walk across a stage while thousands of people watched him. Instead, he was sitting here, terrified that he was losing the only person he ever cared about watching him crossing that stage.
“Family of Samuel Winchester?” A doctor who Dean never had seen before, and who wasn’t a part of the team that met them when they arrived with the ambulance, stood there in the middle of the waiting room and looked around. It took Dean a second to register that he was the family of “Samuel Winchester”. Sam hated it when anyone used his full name— he would probably had thrown a bitch fit about it, Dean thought.
“Yeah, here,” Dean replied when he got his bearings. He stood up and met the doctor halfway. "‘m his brother.” Dean knew he sounded rough, but he felt rough too, so maybe it wasn't so bad.
“Is there no one else with you?”
“Uh, yeah, our dad… He’s just getting coffee,” Dean lied swiftly. To be honest he had no idea where his dad was, probably somewhere calling some person or another to see if he could do anything for Sam that didn’t involve actually being there for Sam. “But I’m eighteen.”
“Okay then,” the doctor said. He still had not introduced himself, but Dean was too out of it to expect him too. At this moment all he wanted to know was if Sam was alive or not. “You brother came in with low blood pressure and his lungs were filling up with fluid. We had to intervene surgically after we got his blood pressure up, and luckily we didn’t have any complications during the procedure. He hasn’t woken up yet, but when he does a nurse will let you know and you can see him. Any questions?” The guy was speaking slowly as if Dean was stupid or something. If Dean hadn't been as relieved as he was he would have started throwing fists. Instead he let the relief wash over him and nodded. When the doctor turned away and Dean was left standing in the middle of the waiting room, like a complete idiot, he finally let the tears that had been burning in the back of his eyes, fall.
It took around twenty more minutes before a young brunette, in bright pink scrubs and a messy bun came up to him and asked if he wanted to see Sammy.
“Now?” Dean asked, already on his way up to a standing position.
"Yes." She said and gave him a soft smile. “Samuel woke up a few minutes ago, and he’s been asking for you.” Dean almost forgot his stuff in his “Sam is alive”-haze and the cute, brunette nurse picked up his cap and gown for him. “Are you graduating today?” She asked all innocently, while they continued to walk down a hallway.
“Yeah… I was s’possed to, but it doesn’t matter now.” Dean didn’t look at her again, and she didn’t ask anymore questions. When they neared the ICU, Dean got instructed on how to put on the isolation gown that he had put on countless times before when Sam was in the hospital and his immune system was shot. When he was all strapped up they opened the door for him and let him walk into the brightly lit room. And there he was, Dean’s entire life, soul, purpose, scrunched up under a blanket and looking so small against the big, bright room. The antiseptic smell hit Dean like a punch, but he couldn’t care less when he saw Sam’s eyes open and looked up at him.
“D’n,” Sam croaked out. The kid was hooked up to more wires and tubes than Dean had seen before and he had a fat-looking cannula under his nose. But it was still Sam under there. Bright eyed, genius, Sam— who was breathing and alive and alive and alive and alive.
“Hey, Sammy.” Dean took a seat in the chair that was closest to Sam’s head. “‘You scared the living crap outta me.” Dean said, his voice almost breaking. It took so much willpower to not break down. But he couldn’t, not in front of Sam, who was probably terrified himself.
“S’ry you missed graduation,” Sam said as tears started to form in the corners of his eyes. Of course that would be what the kid was thinking about, right after almost dying on him.
“Sammy I will break your neck if you don’t stop worrying about that— there is nowhere else I would rather be than right here.” Dean wasn’t one for sappy-moments, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to care when he was so relieved that Sam was alive. Sam just blinked up at him. “Dude, I mean it— It doesn’t matter Sammy.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“Well don’t be.”
“Where’s dad?” Sam asked when he started to look around.
“It’s the ICU, Sammy. They only let one person in at a time,” Dean answered, because that was as good of an excuse as any.
“Oh,” Sam looked more confused than disappointed, and Dean just figured it was residual anesthesia that made his bald, skinny kid so out of it. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Go to sleep, Sammy. We can talk more when you’re feeling better,” Dean replied to avoid getting back in his ‘feels. He already had to focus on not jumping onto the bed and holding Sam so tight that nothing ever could hurt him ever again.
“‘night, Dean.” Sammy did as he was told and closed his eyes, and Dean could tell that he fell asleep only seconds later.
“‘night bitch.”