Sam reached for the flashlight he'd set on the drawer when he was finished and shone it directly at Dean's chest, trying to get some more light on there to see how the tattoo had turned out. Kinda rough; it certainly wasn't a professional job by any means, but it was even enough, all things considered. Huh. So maybe it'd ended up better than he thought it would. Though they did have to wait and see in the following days. If they escaped infection, they'd be in the clear.
Nodding at Dean's thanks, he tore open one of the alcohol pads. "Sure."
He wiped over the tattoo in one last attempt to disinfect it as much as possible, nudging Dean's fingers out of the way as he did so. He thought about covering the fresh tattoo with something to keep Dean's shirt from rubbing over it and irritating it for the next couple of days, but they honestly didn't have anything except for the cloth, and there was no way to tape that down.
Never mind. It'd—probably be okay. Though that did remind him that they really needed to do some stocking up in terms of first aid supplies. They had the alcohol, which was better than nothing, but if they could get some suturing equipment and bandages, that'd be even better. Experience dictated they were gonna need it sooner or later. That, and it just—it'd made him feel better to have all that stuff on hand. A bit of assurance that if Dean ever started bleeding pretty bad, Sam could at least fix that much.
There was a moment's pause, and then he began gathering up the stuff they'd dumped on that table during the entire tattooing exercise. He knew he could've left it all there for awhile yet, but he felt like cleaning it up right now, the mess sort of bothering him a little. Especially while Dean remained quieter than usual, flipping through his journal and likely trying to trace through whatever patterns might be popping up. Sam might've teased something about him keeping a diary back then, but. Not now. He didn't know how it'd come across, like maybe Dean would find him trying too hard to bring things back to the way they were before, even if Dean didn't know there was a before in the first place.
It wasn't even that they hadn't ever silences between them. They had. Driving in the car or in that lull between hunts when they ended up lounging around a motel, it'd get quiet at times, and these days, Sam was even more used to silence—despite Ruby's tendency to chatter, she did shut up occasionally or sometimes she simply wasn't around—but this was a different kind of silence. The kind you could really feel settling over you. He had a sense he knew exactly what the problem was, too, and that didn't help.
Pushing the scraps of cloth to the side of the desk, Sam collected the bottle of ethanol and what was left of the alcohol pads, along with the needle and the other things they'd taken from upstairs. Used though it was, the needle could still be handy in other ways.
He slid open the closet with a careful hand, trying to keep a hold on the armful of supplies at the same time. "So. Pull together anything interesting?" he asked, pushing the items into the back of the closet, where it would be hidden by the clothes. He had a strong feeling the nurses didn't do a lot of thorough room checks considering Peter managed to stash a shovel in there with no problem, but might as well be careful where they could.
no subject
Nodding at Dean's thanks, he tore open one of the alcohol pads. "Sure."
He wiped over the tattoo in one last attempt to disinfect it as much as possible, nudging Dean's fingers out of the way as he did so. He thought about covering the fresh tattoo with something to keep Dean's shirt from rubbing over it and irritating it for the next couple of days, but they honestly didn't have anything except for the cloth, and there was no way to tape that down.
Never mind. It'd—probably be okay. Though that did remind him that they really needed to do some stocking up in terms of first aid supplies. They had the alcohol, which was better than nothing, but if they could get some suturing equipment and bandages, that'd be even better. Experience dictated they were gonna need it sooner or later. That, and it just—it'd made him feel better to have all that stuff on hand. A bit of assurance that if Dean ever started bleeding pretty bad, Sam could at least fix that much.
There was a moment's pause, and then he began gathering up the stuff they'd dumped on that table during the entire tattooing exercise. He knew he could've left it all there for awhile yet, but he felt like cleaning it up right now, the mess sort of bothering him a little. Especially while Dean remained quieter than usual, flipping through his journal and likely trying to trace through whatever patterns might be popping up. Sam might've teased something about him keeping a diary back then, but. Not now. He didn't know how it'd come across, like maybe Dean would find him trying too hard to bring things back to the way they were before, even if Dean didn't know there was a before in the first place.
It wasn't even that they hadn't ever silences between them. They had. Driving in the car or in that lull between hunts when they ended up lounging around a motel, it'd get quiet at times, and these days, Sam was even more used to silence—despite Ruby's tendency to chatter, she did shut up occasionally or sometimes she simply wasn't around—but this was a different kind of silence. The kind you could really feel settling over you. He had a sense he knew exactly what the problem was, too, and that didn't help.
Pushing the scraps of cloth to the side of the desk, Sam collected the bottle of ethanol and what was left of the alcohol pads, along with the needle and the other things they'd taken from upstairs. Used though it was, the needle could still be handy in other ways.
He slid open the closet with a careful hand, trying to keep a hold on the armful of supplies at the same time. "So. Pull together anything interesting?" he asked, pushing the items into the back of the closet, where it would be hidden by the clothes. He had a strong feeling the nurses didn't do a lot of thorough room checks considering Peter managed to stash a shovel in there with no problem, but might as well be careful where they could.