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Challenge 1 - "Can you feel this?"

"This sucks so much," Dean groaned, letting his head fall forward onto his pillow. He buried his face into the rough white fabric until the need to breathe had him turning his head to the side.

"It's not exactly a joy for me, either," Sam replied with a hint of distracted exasperation in his voice.

Dean couldn't argue with that, but he also didn't really want to think about it. Nope, he'd much prefer not to think about it ever again. "Can't you knock me out for this? Why am I still conscious?"

"I'm not giving you a concussion on top of everything else. Aren't the pain pills helping?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to Sam putter around the room, gathering the supplies he would need to stitch Dean's injury. Both Winchesters were sadly familiar with the process of getting stitched up, but it was never a pleasant experience. Some experiences were even less pleasant than others.

This one was going to be very unpleasant.

"Dean?"

Right. He needed to answer his brother.

"They're working. A bit."

He could almost see Sam's pinched expression without even looking. "I can't wait too long. You're bleeding everywhere. Can I start or is it still too much?"

"I think I'll just let myself bleed out," Dean muttered in reply. "Less humiliating."

"There's nothing to be humiliated about. It's not the first time I've seen your ass," Sam pointed out. "It's not even the first time I've stitched it."

"Last time was for injuries sustained on a hunt," Dean protested weakly. "Claws across my lower back and upper butt are not the same thing as getting stabbed by a twig in my ass."

Sam gave a small chuckle at that. "You didn't really get stabbed by a twig so much as lose your balance and impale yourself on one. And it did happen on a hunt-"

"It happened while looking for a hunt, and if you tell anyone about this, I will end you."

"First of all, who would I tell? Second, how exactly would that even come up in conversation? 'Hey, other hunters, have you ever been stabbed in the ass by a tree? Because Dean has!'"

The younger Winchester made his way around the bed, coming into Dean's line of sight. His face was contorted into that earnest puppy-dog face that he got when he was trying to get Dean to see things his way. It usually ended badly for Dean.

"I get that it isn't the most noble of injuries, but it is bleeding a lot and if you really can't stand me patching you up, then we need to get a doctor to do it."

"There are places no brother should ever be touched by his sibling," Dean whined.

"Dean-"

"Fine. Just make it quick and then pass the whisky."

"It doesn't look like you'll need more than four or five stitches," Sam soothed, as he made his way back out of Dean's view. "Can you feel this?"

"If you're asking if I can feel you poking my ass, the answer is yes, and you need to stop now."

Dean heard his brother's soft laugh again and gave an aggrieved sigh. "I'll remember this next time your ass needs stitches," he warned. "I have a long memory and I can hold a grudge."

The needle tugs were an odd sensation, as was the knowledge that it was Sam's hands doing the tugging. It didn't matter how much he loved and trusted his brother, or how many times they had needed to patch each other up or assist one another with basic human necessities, it still had Dean blushing in embarrassment.
With any luck, he'd be able to pass out and forget it ever happened.

"Almost done," Sam announced, pulling Dean from his musings.

There was the sound of packages being rustled and Dean could feel when a bandage was taped in place.

"There you go. Good as new."

"Except for the part where there's a new hole in my ass," Dean replied. His voice was muffled as his face was buried in the pillow once again.

"I can always get you one of those inflatable doughnut things to sit on," Sam offered.

"I can still kill you without getting up."

Sam snorted in derision, but Dean didn't care.

The pills had finally starting to take full effect, making his head fuzzy and his body feel slightly disconnected. Dean allowed himself to drift as he listened to his brother clean up the evidence of the impromptu medical procedure.

He was still floating on the edge of sleep when Sam pulled the blanket up over him and gave his back a fond pat.

And finally sleep claimed him.