Work Text:
Dean considered it a miraculous stroke of luck that he was the same blood type as his brother. He and Sam were both O positive. It was one of the most common blood types, so luck didn’t have much to do with it really. But on nights like tonight Dean counted his blessings.
They’d both taken a pretty bad beating tonight. A pack of ghouls had not only taken pleasure in tossing the Winchester’s around but feeding off a broken and bloody Sam when he was knocked unconscious.
Dean had lopped the heads off every last one of those sons a bitches before heaving Sam to his feet and hobbling back to the Impala. The younger Winchester had regained consciousness on the drive back to the motel much to Dean’s relief, but he was pale and ashen from the blood loss.
After making Sam comfortable on the bed Dean rooted around in their first aid kit. They’d learned to do it this way a long time ago. Hospitals meant insurance cards and medical history and all kinds of unwanted attention. So it was up to Dean to make Sam right again. Just like the way it was and the way it will always be.
Sam’s eyes were beginning to droop and it made Dean’s stomach twist.
“C’mon Sammy, gotta stay awake for me,” he said.
Dean put on a pair of gloves and unfurled the tube. He grabs two sealed cannulas, alcohol wipes and his belt.
Sam eyed the equipment on the nightstand.
“Dean, don’t…you’re hurt too…don’t wanna hurt you,” he drawled.
“Shut the fuck up Sammy and gimme your arm.”
Normally they didn’t need a tourniquet but Sam was dehydrated so it would be hard to find a good vein. Dean loops his belt around his brother’s bicep and pulls it tight. He waits a few moments before tracing his fingers along the inside of Sam’s elbow. He knows every inch of his little brother. He knows every scar, every freckle and every erogenous zone. Finding a good vein is no different.
Dean disinfects the area quickly before sliding the needle in horizontal to Sam’s arm. The flush of blood in the cannula is instant. Dean got the vein on the first try; even in post-fight chaos his hands were steady.
Dean pulls the belt tight over his own arm with his teeth and flexes a few times. Once again the needle slid in with ease. He lets out a sigh of relief as a slow trickle of blood descends down the tube and into Sam’s arm.
“There you go Sammy…you’ll be feelin’ better real soon. Just lay back get some rest.”
Dean feels the adrenaline start to drain from his body as he lays down on the hotel bed. He lets his arm dangle off the edge to keep the blood flowing down towards Sammy. The urge to sleep is creeping up, but he has to stay awake and keep an eye on his brother’s colour (and his own). He toes off his boots and gets comfortable on the bed anyway.
His posture mirrors Sam’s; one leg outstretched, the other bent, head on the pillow tilted towards the other, arm dangling from the bed.
It would take the barest of movements to touch Sam’s fingertips with his own.