Summary: A glimpse of how deep Sam’s affections truly are.
A/N: I know I haven’t written in a LONG time, but hopefully you’ll like this! I enjoyed writing it because it’s not really centered around monsters, but more the brothers (and readers) day to day life. Please message/comment any feedback. I appreciate and want to hear it all! (Also, a special mention to Fem, who is pretty much my editor at this point, and inspired a lot of this story.)
Most days, Dean pretended as if he didn’t see the way his little brother got lost while looking at you. Other times, he would snort loudly, warranting a swift under-the-table kick from a red faced Sam. It was usually all harmless; Dean figured that it was a crush that would pass just as quickly as it came. Last night’s hunt, proved differently:
The rain was absolutely torrential, falling down in thick sheets, slapping itself against the Impala’s windows. The wind was no better. It seemed to toss the car around like a toy in a child’s hand.
“Maybe we should just find a motel and stick it out? What’s the harm in going tomorrow, instead?” You asked from the backseat, pulling your jacket tighter around your body.
Sam sighed audibly. “I think she’s right, Dean.”
The eldest Winchester’s eyes met yours through the rear-view mirror. “Alright, fine.”
You exhaled from relief and began searching for a nearby motel on your phone.
“The only one not fully booked is pretty shitty.” You stated.
Dean laughed, “Aren’t they all?”
“You’re not wrong.” You smiled and passed your phone to Sam who began giving directions based on the address.
About ten minutes later, you were apologizing profusely.
“It’s fine, it’s not that bad.” Sam said, trying to get the water running for the third time.
“Not that bad?” Dean’s voice was getting louder with each word, “I’m pretty sure a cockroach wouldn’t live here!”
“Hey!” Sam shouted at his brother, then lowered his voice, “Take it easy.”
You smiled at him, thanking him.
“I’m sorry guys, it was really the only one within a five mile radius. I assumed because of the rain, and-”
“It’s fine.” Sam’s hand gripped your shoulder, “Right?” His eyes met his brothers.
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean rolled his eyes and began busying himself with the contents of his bag. “Of course, you’d take her side.” He mumbled under his breath.
“Nothing.” Dean peeled off his shirt and pulled on a new one.
You followed Sam towards the bathroom, “What’s gotten into him?” You asked quietly, motioning towards Dean.
“He’s just hungry and tired, so he’s acting like a jackass.” He said, and gave the shower handle a strong turn. Finally, the sound of running water filled the room.
You had been hunting with the brothers for nearly a year, and Dean was right. Looking around the tiny bathroom, this had to have been the worst motel yet.
“He’s right though, it’s pretty fucking bad in here.” You stated, looking towards a stain that had to have been piss.
Sam let out a laugh, “We’ll survive.”
“Maybe I’ll go grab some snacks from the vending machine outside.” You suggested.
“I’ll go with you.” Sam said, walking back towards the beds.
Dean was seated by the small table, trying to get the twenty-year-old television to work.
“Where are you guys going?” Dean asked, his head turning when he heard you zip up your jacket.
“There’s a vending machine outside. Do you want to join?” You asked.
“I’m starved.” He agreed, and grabbed his coat.
Sam leaned down, “Told you.” He whispered and you stifled a laugh.
The rain was no better than before. If anything, it seemed worse now that you were standing in it, rather than driving through it in a car.
“Where is it?” Dean shouted over the storm.
“Right around this side!” You exclaimed, voice garbled from the sound of rain hitting the asphalt.
Finally, your hand found the buttons on the machine and Sam passed you his wallet.
“Chips, right?” You shouted to Dean, whose figure you saw nod.
Meanwhile, Sam rubbed his arm against the glass to see more clearly what this machine had to offer. He pointed to a chocolate bar, and you began punching in those numbers.
Mid-way, your stomach did a flip. Not how you felt back in highschool when you had a crush, but rather the kind when you were on a hunt and could feel someone, or something, watching you.
Within seconds, shouting erupted.
“Give me it!” An unfamiliar voice reached toward the money in your hand.
From the shock, you couldn’t find a way to fight back.
Instead, Dean was on him in seconds. Before you even had a chance to defend yourself, Dean’s hands were grabbing his neck. Sam gripped your shoulders and pulled you further from the two of them.
Then, you saw Dean step back.
“Dean!” Sam shouted over the rainfall, assuming his brother stepped back because the man had finally given up, “Come on!”
But, his brother didn’t answer. He continued stepping back, until finally a gun came into view.
“Give me what you guys got!” The man shouted, pointing the gun at you.
None of you grabbed your weapons when leaving the room. So, the three of you stood there.
No weapons, and nothing to give this deranged man.
Sam saw it before you did. Through the thickness of the storm, he saw the man lift his chin slightly and grip his gun tighter, before pulling the trigger.
“No!” You shouted as Sam’s feet left the floor and his body dove in front of yours. You dropped down to the ground, trying to find where the bullet hit, but all of his clothing was already soaking wet.
“He’s gone.” Dean bent down and began lifting his brother up. The sound of his own gun must have scared him off, or perhaps he realized the three of you had nothing for him.
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean begged his brother, “Just a few more minutes.”
You grabbed his other arm, and slung it over yourself.
“Shoulder.” Sam muttered, his eyes drooping shut.
Your hand reached up and met his shoulder, causing him to groan in pain.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” You whispered, but there was no way he could have heard you over the downfall. You stared at your hand, glimpses of crimson blood being washed away by the rain as you walked back towards the room.
When you finally got inside, Dean helped drop Sam onto the bed, and you quickly abandoned your wet clothing in favor of a large sweatshirt.
“He’s cold.” Was all that was able to leave your lips.
“It’s from the rain.” Dean stated, quickly getting the first aid kit Sam had packed into his duffel. “Quick, get his shirt off.” He commanded.
Your fingers shook as you reached for the buttons, quickly but carefully undoing each one until you finally pried the material off of him. You glanced over at Dean, whose hands were completely steady. His eyes were the only giveaway that he was panicking.
“Hey, come on.” You placed your hand on Sam’s jaw, “Stay awake, okay?”
“Sterilize this.” Dean shoved the tweezers into your hand. Quickly, you ran to the stove and tried to ignite a flame.
“There’s no gas!” You exclaimed, trying frantically one more time. “Wait-” Finally a hint of light showed itself, and you turned the knob completely until you were able to heat the long metal tweezers.
“Keep him awake.” Dean stated, looking at you. You nodded, and he looked back at his brother, ready to pull the bullet out.
“It’s not broken, that’s good.” He said, and you nodded.
You placed both your hands on either side of Sam’s face, and gripped his skin. “Please, look at me.”
His eyes threatened to open, then they drooped shut again. “Sammy, please!” You begged, and unbeknownst to you, tears began to spill onto your cheeks.
“Why did you do that?” You asked, “Why would you?”
Dean hadn’t said a word in a few minutes, he just let you yell at his little brother until your throat was sore.
“Done.” Dean stated, tying off the stitches, “But his clothes are still soaking wet. He can’t be cold right now. I’m going to go shower, can you take care of that?”
You nodded, and wiped your face with your palms. “Yeah, I got it.”
Once he gave one more look to his brother, Dean tossed the bloodied gauze onto the countertop and jumped into the shower.
“Oh god.” You gripped his hands, which truly were freezing. “I hope you like this.” You whispered to yourself, trying to pick out a sweater to match the flannel pajama pants he had packed.
“Here we go.” You inhaled and took off the rest of his shirt. Carefully, you helped his large body into a grey sweater, and then began undoing his jeans.
“God, you’re an idiot.” You spoke to his unconscious figure. “You could’ve died.”
Quickly, you pulled the pants onto him and pulled the blanket over his body.
“I know you’ll wake up in an hour or so, but until then, I’ve got to keep you warm.” You said, pretending he was listening. “These bedsheets are pretty damn thin.”
You crawled under the covers, pressing yourself against his good side. Gently, you rested your head on his chest, careful to stay away from the wound, and listened to his heart beating. It was reassuring. The constant thumping under this man’s skin was the only thing keeping you from crying, again.
It was strange. After the emotional drain, you had expected to fall asleep immediately. But about an hour later, you still lay by his side, holding his hand just to give him as much warmth as possible.
Dean had already dropped himself onto his bed a while ago. He had thanked you for your help, and began snoring in seconds. You nearly laughed at just how quickly he could fall asleep.
You were drawn out from your thoughts when you felt Sam grip your fingers. You shot up, and looked at him, praying he would open his eyes.
“Sam.” You whispered, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. Slowly, he found the strength to look up at you. You exhaled a breath of relief.
“How do you feel?” You asked, and he tried to sit up. “Don’t.” You warned, pushing him softly back onto the pillow.
His eyes met yours through the darkness of the room.
“Are you alright?” He asked, and your lips parted.
“Yes.” He said and his hands reached up to check your arms and neck as if for a wound.
You grabbed his wrists and put his hands back down.
He winced in pain as he tried to shift positions.
“I’m going to ask one more time. How do you feel?” You asked, as if the sound he made wasn’t a clear answer.
“I’m fine.” He exhaled and looked down at his shoulder. He lifted up his sweater, placing his fingers on the stitching. He looked over at his brothers sleeping figure. It was interesting how Sam knew by just the work done on him, who had stitched him up. Then, he lifted the covers and looked at what he was wearing. A slight tinge of embarrassment sounded in his voice as he thanked you, rather awkwardly.
You settled back down under the sheets, now keeping a respectable distance between yourself and Sam. Moments later though, you felt his arm pull you towards him.
“Sam, you need to rest. Stop exerting pressure on yourself.” You mumbled, trying to pull away.
“I’m fine.” He repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“No, you’re not!” You shouted, suddenly. “You’re not fucking fine!”
Dean stirred from his sleep, waking up.
Sam’s eyes widened as he watched you jump out from the bed.
“You jumped in front of a bullet, Sam! You could’ve died!” You exclaimed, hands reaching for your hair, tugging slightly.
“What happened?” Dean’s voice was raspy, thick with sleep.
“Your brother jumped in front of a bullet, that’s what happened!” You said loudly.
Dean sat up on the edge of the bed, his legs hitting the floor. He turned on the table lamp, watching with disappointment as it’s weak light bulb flickered.
“She’s right.” Dean turned his attention to his younger brother who was attempting to sit up.
When Sam was finally seated, he leaned his back against headboard and looked down into his lap.
“Come on, Sammy. Why did you do that? We’ve been in worse situations!” Dean began throwing questions at his brother, hardly stopping to breathe, “Why couldn’t you have-”
“Because it was aimed at her!” Sam shouted, his arm extended in your direction.
Dean stopped immediately.
“Y/N, would have been killed!” He continued.
After what seemed like an hour later, you spoke. “You didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t care.” Sam said, his voice finally lowered. “He pointed a gun at you.”
Dean rubbed his face with his hands while you stared at Sam, absolutely speechless.
His soft hazel eyes were trained on yours, waiting for you to say something, or nothing.
Meanwhile, Dean watched as you slowly realized what he had already known for months. He watched as your lips parted and gaze softened, now seeing the depth of Sam’s affection towards you.
When your breathing finally steadied, you forced your feet to take one step at a time back towards the bed. Sam kept his gaze on you, allowing you to lift the blanket and once again lay next to him.
You heard Dean switch the lamp off, and fall back onto his pillow. Leaning over, you gripped his jaw in your hand, just as you did hours ago when all you saw was red, and pressed a kiss against his forehead.
Many months of unspoken feelings came apart within seconds. Sam reached up and placed his hand behind your neck, his fingers causing goosebumps to rise. You leaned down and your lips hit his, fitting together like puzzle pieces. He pressed his nose against yours, trying to pull as much of you to himself as he could.
“Promise me,” You pulled away from him, “that you will never scare me like that again.”
“We’re hunters.” He whispered.
“I know.” You sighed and nestled yourself into his side. He wrapped his arm around you, squeezing your body against his.
“I’m sorry.” He said against your head. He paused for a beat, “I just saw the gun, and I saw you, so I made a choice.”
You laced your fingers with his, unable to think of anything to respond with. He squeezed your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against yours.
“You’re making it really hard to stay mad.” You muttered into his chest.
A light laugh escaped his lips and you exhaled from relief, forgetting just how much you yearned to hear it one more time.
“Get some sleep.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “Goodnight.”
“Night.” You whispered, allowing your eyes to finally shut.
While you slept, Sam stayed awake. For too long he had waited to be able to hold you by his side. He watched while you dreamt, how your nose curved perfectly to your lips and down to your chin. His fingers swept a few strands of hair from your face, uncovering a tiny scar by your ear. You began to snore lightly, and he smiled to himself.
Sam didn’t regret his decision for even one second.
