Chapter Text
"Ok" John said finally, a few drinks in "that's enough, time for bed".
Dean scoffed as his father took the glass from him.
"Come on dad" he whined "I'm not a little kid".
"I know you aren't. I'm not treating you like one" John replied "but I'm insisting it's time for bed, for all of us".
Dean rolled his eyes and winced as he shuffled into a laying position.
John's brow furrowed
"You sure you're ok?" He asked.
"Fine" his oldest replied, turning over to face away from his father. Wincing in regret as he laid on his bruises.
John sighed and switched off the lamp between him and Dean's beds and got under the blankets.
____________
John had woken early the next morning. Normally he'd want to get out of town as soon as possible, but with both his boys injured, and him with some minor injuries himself, he thought sticking around would be a better option.
He made some coffee and sat at the kitchen table, newspaper sitting open in front of him. It was yesterday's news, but he didn't mind, he hadn't gotten a chance to properly read it save for the article that they suspected to be connected to the shifter.
He sipped his coffee in silence, listening to the gentle breathing of his sons. He found himself worriedly glancing up, since he kept hearing one of them taking shaky breaths every now and then. He'd stare at them both for a moment, trying to figure it out before he'd slowly look back down.
After the third time, John put down his coffee and focused on his two boys, sitting up in his chair. He glanced between the two of them. Sam was on his back while Dean was still facing away from him on his side. Sam's face was peaceful, his lips slightly parted, tongue between his teeth and his head lulled against the pillow, his leg was propped up on a pillow. He watched Sam for a few breaths, thinking he may regret not forcing some painkillers in him before he fell asleep, but then he heard the snivelling again, and Sam didn't move.
His eyes went to Dean, laying on his side, his injured side like the stubborn man he was. John kept a close eye on him until the snivelling happened again. He caught a glimpse of Dean's shoulder shaking slightly, his body quivering as he struggled through the short breath.
John sighed, getting up and walking over to where he left the first aid kit, starting to rifle though it.
Dean hummed at the obvious shifting in the room. He sniffled and groaned lowly in his throat, struggling to sit up and slide his legs over the opposite side of the bed. He looked over his shoulder, hand on his side.
"Dad?" He croaked, lazy eyes focusing on the figure digging through the supplies.
"Mornin'" John replied, finally scooping up some painkillers. He turned and went over to Dean, tipping two into his palm and holding it out to his oldest.
Dean's eyes took a second to focus on the pills in his father's gruff hand before he shook his head. "No" he grumbled "I'm fine".
"Fine my ass" John scoffed "take them" he demanded.
"Dad, I've got a couple bruised ribs at most. Sammy's been shot, we can't be wasting supplies" he argued.
"It's not wasting them; you're barely breathing with causing yourself pain. I think that calls for a little relief" John retorted.
"Only when I breath too deep" he corrected, wincing a little and leaning forward, gently hand covering his bruised side.
John sighed heavily, hating himself for passing this head strong stubborn to both his boys, it being especially present in Dean, who was always trying to be tough to impress him or look after Sam. In some ways it made him proud of his son, other times it made him worry, and a lot of the time it pissed him off.
"Dean" he scowled.
"I'm not taking them" his oldest whispered.
John sighed again and dumped the pills back in the bottle, looking away as he slammed them onto the table between him and Dean's bed.
Dean flinched and glanced up as his father stomped away and over to the kitchenette. It only took a few moments for him to know exactly what his dad was doing.
As soon as John opened the freezer, Dean groaned, resting his forehead in his palm.
"Dad" he whined, hearing John dumping some ice into the first plastic bag he could find and tying it up.
"This is clearly worse than you're letting on" John scolded "I told you not to lie to me" he came over to Deans bed wrapping the plastic bag in a tea towel. "Move your hand" he ordered. Dean's hand remained protectively at his side "Move your hand" John demanded a little louder, but still trying not to wake the youngest.
Dean whined and moved his hand, letting his father place the ice against his side, a little too aggressively.
Dean couldn't stop the yelp from slipping out his throat, flinching and scrunching up his face in pain, biting his lip and clenching his fists.
"Sorry" John grumbled, focused on his son's side.
Dean sniffled, quivering a little as his breath shock.
"Hold that there" John said, nudging the ice against the bruise a little.
Dean winced but took the ice in his opposite hand, pressing it lightly to his side. He sniffled again and watched as his father picked the pills back up again and strolled over to Sam.
John placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, gently shaking him, his voice low as he muttered for him to wake up.
Sam whined a little, peaceful face scrunching up before his eyes opened and his head turned towards his father.
"Hey" John whispered "want to take some pain meds?" he asked, lightly shaking the bottle.
Sam was silent for a second before he nodded and hummed in response. John gave Sam the pills and then stood back up to get a glass of water for him. While there, he got one for Dean as well, handing it to him as he passed by.
Dean's hand took the glass unsteadily and rested it on his knee, keeping a shaky grasp around the rim.
Meanwhile, John had just continued over to Sam, who had tipped out two pills and reached a handout for the water as his father approached.
"Thanks" Sam rasped, sniffling a little before he tipped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them with the water.
He sighed shakily as he rested the glass in his lap, looking down at his leg, screwing his face up.
John glanced down at it too.
"That's gonna be a bitch to heal" he noted, earning a humourless chuckle from his youngest.
"Shit".
They both perked up when they heard something clatter and smash, glancing over at Dean, who had doubled over with his shoulders shaking.
John called out and rushed over, quickly rounding the bed, Sam sat up straighter.
John found the glass on the floor, broken into large chunks of glass and water split everywhere. Cautious of where he stood John approached Dean, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Dean?" He fretted "you ok? What happened?"
Dean sighed shakily, quivering all over. "I-I just dropped it. I'm fine" he slurred through short breaths.
"Dean, can you breathe?" John asked, tightening his grip on his son's shoulder.
"Dad, what's going on?" Sam piped up, beginning to get frustrated about being stuck in bed, oblivious and unable to help.
"It's fine Sammy" Dean croaked "I'm fine" he wheezed, shoulders shuddering when he tried to take a breath.
"Ok, ok, Son you need to sit up, come on" John coaxed, placing a gentle hand on Dean's chest and forcing his to straighten up.
Dean gasped a little, shoulders leaning in as pain jolted through his side. "Ok, it's ok, its ok Dean" John muttered, pulling away the ice and lifting Dean's shirt, hoping it still looks the same as last night.
John winces.
The bruise is deeper, being mostly bluish and purple with patches of a gross shade of yellow as well as groups of little pricks of redness dotted around his side.
"Christ Dean" John breathed "what did you do?"
Dean didn't want to look at it, eyes tearing away from the floor finally to glance at his father, panting weakly.
"I-I don't know" he whined "I didn't...realise it hurt until I picked up Sam" he added.
John rubbed a hand over his stubble, slowly lowering Dean's t-shirt. John sighed, remaining in his crouching position for a moment before finally nodded and stood.
"We're not too far from Sioux Falls, I'll call Bobby, tell him we'll be on our way".