tags: hurt/comfort, pining, dean is annoying, hunt gone wrong, fluff (?)
notes: this was just to start writing for fem!sam.. i may write another part..
wc: 582
the metallic taste in your mouth tasted so familiar that it almost tasted like home. your head spun with a tornado-like force, leaving you dazed as you tried to regain your bearings.
“hey—“ a familiar, soft voice cut through the tv static of your head. “take it slow. i’ve got you,”
two warm, steady hands held onto your shoulders, keeping you upright. you pried your eyes open to get a glimpse of the hands’ owner. a set of concerned, hazel eyes stared back at you, strands of shaggy brown hair falling in front of them. she smiled at you in an attempt at comfort, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes.
”sam?” you managed to groan, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the glaring overhead light. “…what are you doing here?”
samantha wiped at your blood-spewing nose with the back of her hand with the gentleness and warmth of a late july breeze. you fought back a wince at the stinging and throbbing sensation radiating through your face.
”don’t worry about that right now,” she commanded, starting to try and get you to your feet. “we’ve gotta get you outta here first, okay?”
you didn’t reply. her hands moved to your waist, helping you stay standing before slinging one of your arms across her shoulders. instinctually, you leaned your weight into her frame as she practically dragged you outside. your memory of what happened before you went down started to flood its way back into your consciousness as samantha half-carried you out to the impala.
you had been on a hunt with the winchesters investigating an old house in nebraska. you had known that you would be dealing with an angry ghost when you stepped through the busted-up screen door, but you hadn’t accounted that there would actually be two angry ghosts to take care of. while sam and dean were dealing with the first ghost, the second one ambushed you as you searched the house for items that the spirit may be attached to. before you could process what was happening, a sturdy dining chair made contact with your face and knocked you straight onto your ass.
sam propped you against the sleek black metal of the family chevrolet and began to inspect your injuries further, a worried look painted across her features. her fingers gently roamed your face, acting as post-hunt cleanup crew. your blood stained the calloused pads of her fingertips pink as she wiped the blood from your lips. you looked up at her, dazed and wishing that she would replace her fingers with her own lips. her movements slowed as she noticed your not-so-discreet staring and made eye contact with you. you could practically see her mind shift gears as her furrowed brow went from worried to confused. samantha swallowed, moving her hands from your injuries to cradle the side of your face and you swore that you saw her lean in the slightest bit.
“eugh—“ dean interrupted with his impeccable timing. “looks like a chick-flick went to a feminist convention and puked everywhere,”
sam glanced away, her expression unreadable aside from the annoyed eye roll at her brother. you frowned, serving dean a heated glare which he, of course, ignored. he always knew the perfect time to show up, ruining whatever moment you got with his sister.
”get your ass off the hood and into the backseat, or else i’m leaving you here,” he barked, voice gruff and irritated. “we’ve got places to be,”
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