#right now he is drinking my anti hangover water. bastard

[isdalinarhot]

look at my drunksitter man im so fucked

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given the choice to go to rehab for 28 days, or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter characters: Dean Winchester, Jack Kline, mentions John Winchester, child Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle and Bobby Singer, Max Baines, Ann Milton, Emma Winchester, Lydia Prime

Chapter warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, withdrawal (including dry heaves and panic), flashbacks, sexual situation, drugs

Words: 2,300

ANs: Thank you for your patience with the delay in getting this out. My partner and I have been passing a nasty cold back and forth for a month, and cold medicine doesn’t support creativity in the Minefield. 

Many thanks and love to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker

Text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER THREE

Dean’s first dinner in recovery included three servings of angst and less than a mouthful of actual food. Crowley called Meg a whore; she threatened to stab him with a fork through his “self-inflicted trach scar, (you) creepy little bastard”; then, said creepy little bastard threw his lemonade in her face before storming off. 

Now, Dean’s lying face-down on his thin yet lumpy twin XL, clutching a pillow across the back of his head, silently imploring the kid to stop eating candy bars and go the fuck to sleep so he can be miserable in peace.

There’s nothing in his stomach but bile when he finally drags his ass to the cold, hard bathroom. He flings the lid and seat of the toilet open without agitating his dislocated shoulder too much, drops to his knees, and lurches over the bowl.

The discharging doctor’s words begin running through his mind, as he prays his eyeballs don’t burst from their sockets. 

“Expect to be nauseated. They will have anti-nausea options — your preference. You’ll have chills and shakes. Drink lots of water. Think of it as a 24 or 48-hour bug... or a really bad hangover.”

The cycle is vicious — nausea and chills make his body seize, and the convulsions ignite more pain from his head to his toes. To top it off, he has no control over the gross sounds being forced from his chest with every gag and recoil. 

He’ll definitely wake up the kid if he doesn’t keep it down, and that kid needs sleep. He’s a fucking teenager, growing and healing.

Dean hates that an impressionable kid like Jack is seeing him at his worst. He hates that everyone he knows is aware that deep down, he’s an absolute fucking wreck. He hates that he fucked up so colossally that he’s lost his right to be in his own damned home, quieting his mind and calming his heart his own way.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever look them in the eyes again — Emma, Sam, Jess, and their kids, Tessa. 

Dean swallows back tears and sobs, so he can get control over his breathing.

“Panic attacks are common during this time as your body rids itself of alcohol. I’m sending scripts for thiamine — just as a precaution — and gabapentin to keep you calm.”

He’s not calm though, so he draws shallow breaths through his nose until his body finally seems to get the message. Finally, he slumps against the steady cold porcelain, resting his head on his serviceable forearm.

On his umpteenth round of breathing exercises, there’s a light tap at the door. When he squints up at the doorway, he finds double visions of Jack and his bleary blue eyes, shrouded with concern. 

“I can go get you some Pepto or something.” 

Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry I woke y’up,, kid,” he rasps, slowly pushing himself up with a series of grunts and gasps. 

“It’s OK. It happens to all of us. Do you want anything? They’ll let me come down for you if you need help.”

Once Dean’s standing, he curses how frigid the tile floor is under his bare feet. He should’ve put socks on because he can hardly feel his toes as he flushes the toilet. 

“Thanks... Jack.” Dean huffs a sigh and tries to swallow back the saliva, pooling in his mouth as he turns to the vanity and twists the knobs of the sink on cold. “I just gotta get through this.” 

As Dean washes his good hand and forearm, he sees the scrawny teen shrug in his periphery. Dean scoops water into his mouth to rinse and spit, nodding to reassure himself.

“OK.” Jack’s voice fades. “But whenever you decide to stop punishing yourself, I’m happy to help.”

Before Dean can muster up a scowl and a disparaging comeback, the kid’s already climbing under his covers with his furry dragon.

“Is he gonna be OK?” Sam whispers with wide eyes and chewed lips.

Dean knows that Sam isn’t old enough to process John’s bullshit, but that doesn’t stop John from drinking a fifth of Jack on any given Sunday, kicking a hole in the bathroom door, and passing out on the toilet.

“He’s fine, Sammy — just gotta sleep it off,” Dean murmurs as he quietly closes the door to John’s bedroom and drapes an arm around Sam’s shoulders as he makes his way down the short hallway.

John bet on the Chiefs’ game and lost. Betting never ended well for John because, the way Dean saw it, John placed bets with his ego, not his head, and he almost always lost.

At least this time, he blacked out before the game was over, which made him more pliable for Dean to maneuver and easier for Dean to keep Sam out of John’s sight.

“What’re you hungry for, Sammy, mac and cheese or mac and cheese?” Dean strides through the tiny living area to the galley kitchen on the other side of the two-bedroom shack.

Sam whines, following his big brother’s footsteps through the galley. “We just had mac and cheese, can’t we have hamburgers?”

“No hamburger, buddy.” 

Dean hates telling his little brother no. He wishes he could make burgers every night just the way Sam likes, with extra American cheese and pickles, and those waffle fries with the spicy seasoning.

“Do we have hot dogs?” Sam asks, furrowing his little 7-year-old brow as he hikes himself up onto a kitchen chair.

Dean tilts his head before digging deeper inside the fridge. He finds a package with two hot dogs, but he isn’t sure how long they’ve been open. He’s relieved to discover that they don’t reek like a dead mouse when he pulls at the plastic and takes a sniff.

“You’re in luck, baby brother. Want ‘em fried up in the pan first?” He grabs the milk and butter, too, before letting the door fall closed.

“Yeah!”

Dean knew how Sam would answer. Sam loves when Dean slices up the dogs and fries them in a pan. They get crispy and salty, and it makes Sam feel like it’s a delicacy; it makes him smile. And when Sam smiles, Dean smiles.

As Dean sets out the pan for the hot dogs and the pot for the macaroni, he notices the bottle of chocolate sauce is almost empty. He smirks to himself as he quickly mixes up a small cup of chocolate milk for Sam, leaving just enough milk for the macaroni and cheese.

“Here,” he says, setting the cup next to where Sam is working on his weekend math homework. “Don’t drink it too fast, you puked last time.”

Sam beams at the cup of chocolatey goodness before turning his bright grin up to shine on Dean. “Thanks, Dean. You’re the best big brother ever.”

Dean shuffles out of the bathroom to his bed with a cup of water from the tap. The thought of drinking it threatens to make him gag. He should probably go get something for his stomach, but the night nurse has a lot more to worry about than his dumb ass, and this will pass soon enough. He’ll just lie back down and wait it out.

He sets his cup on the nightstand before straightening his bedding and carefully sliding under the cool sheet and light blanket to stare at the ceiling. He draws small, manageable breaths in through his nose and pushes them out his mouth.

Shadows from the trees and the moon outside dance across the ceiling like a Halloween decoration. The stark images remind Dean of a project from his first-grade art class.

His favorite teacher, Ms. Alba, brought the music teacher in to collaborate on a holiday assignment with the kids. The art teacher passed out reams of construction paper, plastic scissors, glue sticks, glitter, and crayons, while the music teacher told the story of Death.

“He appears at midnight every year on Halloween in graveyards all over the world, fiddle in hand, to beckon the dead from their graves, to dance with him ‘til dawn.”

The class gasped and squealed in delight, as the music teacher dropped the needle onto the vinyl to play a seven-minute-long symphonic poem called “Danse Macabre”.

Dean had never heard anything like it. It was joyful and tragic, and it made him feel like spinning in circles. He thought it sounded like the instruments were real people with broken hearts and desires, willing themselves to live, if only for a few hours.

According to Ms. Alba, Dean’s creation was vibrant, layered, and mournful. He didn’t know what all those words meant at the time, but her eyes told him that it was good.

Thankfully, the Winchesters were still living with Bobby and Ellen. Ellen oohed and ahhed over the glittery disaster and taped it dead-center on the front of her olive-colored freezer door. She made a point to show it to John and Bobby when they got home from the garage, too. Bobby agreed it was a masterpiece, and John kept his mouth shut because he wouldn’t dare say boo to Ellen Harvelle.

Dean shivers under the covers that are not enough, and yet too much. He’s cold and sweating, trying to remain motionless so as not to agitate his injuries or further disrupt Jack. He thinks about getting one of his flannels or a pair of socks, but then he realizes that requires movement, which causes pain, which wakes up the kid, and he’s right back where he started. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. 

His mind races and so does his gaze, now used to the dark and searching for something to distract himself. He spots a cabinet full of books on Jack’s side of the room, and sighs.

He sweeps the blankets off himself and rolls off the bed to trudge to the bookshelf. The moonlight is enough to show him the many familiar titles of books he’s read before, and his eyes land on Slaughterhouse-Five.

He instantly reaches for it. “Nice.” 

Dean grins as he hobbles back to his bed. Since he’s up, he decides to pull on a pair of socks, and the relief is immediate. He shakes his head at how stupid he is — can’t even seem to see straight enough to help himself.

He darts his eyes to the bed next to his. The kid’s sleeping curled around his stuffed animal with his back to Dean, peaceful and innocent, but wise beyond his years. 

Dean turns his bedside lamp on low and fluffs his pillow again before propping himself up against the headboard to read.

“Daddy? Are you here?”

“Shit,” Dean swears under his breath. “Get dressed.”

It’s not his weekend to have Emma. He’s not in any condition to be around his daughter right now, and neither are the two other people in his bedroom.

“I have something to show you.” His daughter’s excited voice gets closer with every anxious breath he takes. 

Dean tosses articles of clothing at his bewildered guests, claws at his bedding to straighten it, and tries to hide the white powder and paraphernalia.

“Just a minute, Em!” Dean calls from his room and then turns to hiss at his partners in debauchery. “Hide.”

Max blinks, and his brow furrows. “What?! Where?”

Anna grabs Max by the wrist as she scoops up her underwear. “That’s his daughter, Max.”

Before Dean can conceal the evidence that he has no right to the title of father, his daughter is opening his bedroom door and letting herself inside.

“Oh!” Emma’s eyes go wide, and she gasps. She blinks rapidly for several beats as Dean and his guests stand frozen in place.

“I’m... sorry, I just wanted to...”

“Baby, it’s not what it looks like,” Dean starts, clutching a pillow across his middle.

Emma starts to back away, and Dean takes a step toward her.

“Don’t,” she says, and her blinking eyes begin to fill with tears. “It’s OK, just... don’t.”

Dean groans as she backs all the way out of the room and disappears down the hall. He tosses the pillow aside and snatches his jeans from the armchair beside his bed to quickly step into them, snagging a t-shirt from atop his dresser as he dashes out the door.

“Emma!” Dean calls to her as he runs down the hall, shrugging into his shirt. 

In the living room, he meets Lydia’s angry glare and Emma’s retreat out his front door. He stops cold and drops his gaze to his bare feet.

“I can only imagine what she just walked in on,” Lydia says, her delicate features twisted into a scowl. “Here. This is what she wanted to show you. She made it for you in art class.”

Dangling from Lydia’s grip is Emma’s latest attempt with textiles. She’s been working with wood and fiber. The letters DW were carved from basswood and wrapped with hand-spun yarn.

Dean looks up at his ex. “Lydia-”

“Take it, Dean.”

He reaches for the gift with a heavy sigh, staring at the intricate twining of carefully chosen colors. “Thanks.”

Lydia echoes his sigh and shakes her head. “Don’t ask me to go to bat for you this time, Dean. Joint custody means just that. You don’t get to fuck off just because it’s not your weekend or whatever.”

Dean winces but nods. “I know.”

“You always say that.” Lydia rolls her eyes and turns to leave. “Give her a day or so to cool off. I’ll let you know if she wants to come up this weekend.”

The door clicks closed behind her, and minutes pass before he hears Lydia’s Mercedes drive away.

Two days later, he receives a text from his ex: “Emma isn’t feeling well, so she’s staying home this weekend.”

Home. 

Dean’s house is not Emma’s home.  

Chapter 4

Please let me know what you think!

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MORE JAW DRAMA…LIKE IT’S ALWAYS SOMETHING

MICHAEL SAID IF HE HEARS THE WORD JAW ONE MORE TIME WE MAY DIVORCE.

Lol.

But seriously, I am sick of it too. Such a drag.

So basically as you guys know, I had double jaw surgery about 4-ish years ago. Well, recently I realized that my lymphatic system in my face wasn’t draining properly- this was causing me to swell up like a balloon any time I stepped on a plane, traveled to higher altitude, &/or drank too much alcohol. Even salt! Like forget it- one too many grams of salt & I was immediately Fat Bastard.

I was over it. Personally, I became convinced that the reason I was swelling so much was because of the screws & plates in my face. I mean it can’t be GOOD for you to have metal in your face blocking your flow. My acupuncturist told me this too- he said the screws/plates from double jaw surgery were JUST BAD. Especially because it goes against everything Chinese medicine says.

So I said to myself “fuck it- I want this shit out!”

MY JAW SITUATION

If you can’t tell, when I get my head stuck on something, I get my head stuck on something. I couldn’t let it go.

So I found a jaw surgeon in LA ( as you know we recently moved from San Diego to Los Angeles ) & immediately booked an appointment. It all went well. We didn’t remove every single screw but the majority of them. Immediately after surgery I SWELLED RIGHT THE FUCK UP. Which is to be expected- it happens after an invasive surgery. But now, 3 weeks later, I am feeling better…& I should add: more contoured & less swollen than before the surgery. WHICH WE LOVE.

You could definitely say it was a success…& I am convinced my theory was right.

Anyway, so that’s my jaw drama. & while we are at it- let’s talk tips to fight inflammation because boy I am the fucking queen of that. AHEM:

♡ Watermelon juice!!!

Watermelon juice was my main request because it’s non-acidic. I like to add a TON of lime too. Lime is acidic but turns alkaline in the body. So watermelon x lime is just fucking gold. I’ve been chugging it like a sorority sister chugs Jungle Juice at a frat mixer. Watermelon juice is just perfect in every way. Go for the juicy red flesh at the center of a watermelon because it’s the only nutrient-rich area, forget the white part. The white part sucks, kinda. Some other benefits: watermelon is great for blood flow, it’s anti-inflammatory ( perfect for surgery ), & has TONS of vitamins and minerals. ALSO IT’S A DIURETIC. Cleans you out. Bottoms up!

♡ Next up, Mr. raw coconut juice.

I like this baby for its electrolytes. Raw coconut water is filled with electrolytes which REALLY boosts hydration. Hydration is key in sickness recovery. I always search for the pink coconut waters because supposedly they contain more antioxidants. This one is my favorite brand by far! Love it when it’s a baby pink mixture ( this happens only sometimes depending on the coconuts they get ).

♡ Heyyyy Kefir!

Since I had to take some more antibiotics for this surgery, I needed something with probiotics to coat my stomach. This kefir smoothie makes all the difference. Kefir is a whole different blog post but basically it’s “a sour-tasting drink made from cow’s milk fermented with certain bacteria. Also, a great source of probiotic bacteria and yeast, and requires daily maintenance, if using milk kefir grains. It is generally more sour in flavor and of a pourable consistency. Milk kefir may also be used in many, many recipes.” When I take antibiotics I ALWAYS balance it out with a probiotic. This is why kefir is amaze; it balances the antibiotic out by promoting good bacteria. This smoothie is simple. Nothing crazy because I definitely don’t want to shock my system.

♡♡♡ TSC Kefir Probiotic Smoothie

1 banana 1 cup kefir Handful of kale 1 splash almond milk Handful of ice Top with cinnamon ( << an anti-inflammatory )

Directions: blend. Garnish with cinnamon & cheers!

♡ Now let’s talk about liquid gold!

A full blown Vitamin C juice!! My favorite…orange/carrot/ginger/turmeric. SO healing for the system when you’re in recovery ( or on any day ). The orange relieves constipation, is full of potassium, & again, turns alkaline in the system ( so it’s essentially NON acidic ). The crunchy powerfood carrot does wonders: they’re full of fiber & literally flush nasty-ass toxins from the body. SO cleansing. Ginger, one of my favorites, is a real life saver because it takes away nausea. And typically surgery brings on nausea, yuck. Ginger also reduces gas, has a warming effect, & stimulates circulation. Lastly turmeric root!!! My home girl. Turmeric ( like real turmeric. Ever seen it at the grocery store? It looks like a sick bug. You can actually buy it online too ) is the shit in juices. Turmeric root is INSANE for inflammation. I’ve been shooting it in shot glasses #rebel.

♡ ICE ROLL THE FUCK OUTTA YOUR FACE.

Here’s the deal. I’ve been doing ice facials since Sonja Morgan from RHONY recommended them after a brutal hangover circa 2014-ish when noble Countess Luann was yelling at Heather Yummie Tummie about being ‘uncool.’ It really wasn’t until my brutal jaw surgery that I discovered the IT beauty tip of 2016 ( AKA MY LIFE LINE ). IT FIGHTS INFLAMMATION- I DO IT EVERY MORNING. TRUST ME.

Let me set the scene, years ago: I was actively perusing Amazon ( SHOCKING, this is something I do on the regular ) & was searching ‘jaw surgery book.’ Weirdly, an ice roller popped up.

So I was like, “umm, yes. This will make life easier PLUS give me a little lymphatic drainage while I’m rolling downward on my swollen jaw.”

Added to cart……..& then shit, the rest is history.

Not only did I fall absolutely HEAD OVER HEELS in love with my ice roller ( I use the white roller with a blue handle ), I also entered into a committed relationship with my ice roller. Like I said: I use it every ( EVERY ) day, once sometimes twice a day for as long as it’s cold ( usually 2 to 3 minutes per time ). In fact, I’m grumpy if I don’t get to use it first thing in the AM! Bye swelling.

♡ Lastly: TEA.

This one isn’t really too healthy but it’s keeping me refreshed. I get a large Starbucks iced green tea with two splashes of passion fruit & no sweetener. Obviously this isn’t like organic, homegrown, gold star tea BUT it’s cold on my throat & feels good plus it forces me to drink more water. And well, I just like it. Also, I’ve definitely been sneaking some mint chocolate chip ice cream because ‘help me, I’m sick.’ If you’re so healthy, lucky you, drink organic Numi green tea & skip the iced Starbucks.

♡ Oh, & another one not pictured:

I HAVE BEEN CHUGGING OWL VENICE BONE BROTH IN DISGUSTING AMOUNTS. I’ve been told it’s the best thing you can put in your system BEFORE & AFTER surgery. I add lemon & seriously GULP, GULP, GULP. A post on the broth can be found here.

ALSO: using Valor oil, taking massive amounts of arnica & turmeric ( I AM OBSESSED WITH TRUVANI’S TURMERIC TABLETS because they’re real deal turmeric with black pepper- I take them all the time ), using TONS OF ICE for ice facials ( which has helped me the most, especially this specific ice roller ), dry brushing, detoxing, juicing, applying real aloe vera/raw coconut oil, & also I’m really trying to avoid salt. ANY OTHER TIPS? Please share.

Before we go I also want to discuss pros of having double surgery in the first place because it seems like it’s been an on-going thing. Also this is important because I receive a lot of DM’s on questions about the initial surgery:

SO PROS OF MY JAW SURGERY:

+ I feel balanced now. I felt out of whack/alignment for my whole life. Towards the end I started to get used to being uncomfortable. Now I feel at peace. This is me now ( still have a long way to go, but this is without photo editing & no makeup- you can’t edit on Snapchat ). Swollen still, but coming down.

+ I haven’t been grinding my teeth AT ALL. This is huge for me because I’ve been grinding my teeth every night of my life to the point where Michael couldn’t sleep.

+ I haven’t snored once. This is another big one because I sounded like a freaking wildebeest when I was sleeping. Now I sleep like a baby without waking up in the middle of night…& Michael can sleep peacefully. This is AMAZING.

+ My bite fits together. Before I could only chew on one side of my mouth & my bite never fit together. Now my teeth fit together like a perfect puzzle piece & my mid-line is on point.

+ No more headaches, cracking my neck, or anxiety around my neck. I would also try to fix my bite myself by holding my jaw in the proper place. Because the issue was skeletal, it put major anxiety in my shoulders & neck. This feeling is gone, gone, gone.

+ Michael has literally seen me at my lowest point looks-wise, so I’m thinking he’s a keeper….LOL.

+ Lastly, my cheekbones look a little higher. A vain plus, but hey it’s a plus.

So that’s that. Thought I would share the process with you guys because you know I like to get specific.

I am off to eat a sourdough peanut butter & jelly sandwich because I got food poisoning last night. The culprit was either bad shrimp or bad cauliflower rice- you decide. If anyone has any food poisoning tips, I am all ears because man, do I feel queasy. Like I said- it’s always something! LOL.

HOPE YOU’RE ALL HAVING A PRODUCTIVE WEEK. See you tomorrow, lauryn x

+ to read more about my jaw surgery experience check out my other jaw surgery posts: still swollen | jaw surgery | finding energy after surgery

++ for more posts on how to recover from jaw surgery: facial massage | Gua Sha | cryotherapy | how to lymphatic drainage

Source: https://www.theskinnyconfidential.com/double-jaw-surgery/