Lucky | Part 5
Sam X Reader
Summary: You’re unlucky in love when you find a lost wallet outside a bar and are smitten with the photo on the ID inside. Could your luck have turned, or have you found yourself in the middle of something unfortunate?
Warnings: nightmares, bed sharing, cuddling, angst, dumb flirting
Word Count: 2.9K
Series Masterlist
You finally got the timeline nailed down with Sam filling in the holes. You were abducted from your home somewhere between four and five in the morning on Sunday, after your shift. Kept in pitch blackness, and in and out of consciousness due to a significant concussion and blood loss, there was no way of knowing that the entire day passed. Sam and Dean were able to locate and make it to the nest by nightfall. Monday morning found you here at the motel, after driving through the night to put a significant distance between you and what was left of your captors.
You called Emily, the only person who’d really worry about you, on a burner phone Dean let you use. But since then, the only people you’ve had contact with are these mysterious brothers. If you can call it contact. The past two days have been spent with Sam clicking away at a laptop in the corner of the room and making whispered phone calls in the bathroom, Dean leaving the place as much as possible and coming back smelling of booze or bacon to watch TV too loudly, and you sleeping off your concussion or listening to an audiobook on Sam’s IPod, because reading with your eyes still made you nauseous.
Evening is falling again as you lay on your bed pretending to sleep. Sam has his eyes on you almost every time you look up. It’s already been suffocating enough sharing the space with these two men without the constant puppy eyes.
Besides pain, anger is all you feel. You’re aware that it makes no sense to direct it at your rescuers, but you don’t care. Right now, they’re your new captors and it feels good to meet Sam’s overbearing glances with glares and his questions with silence or sarcasm. You’d snap at Dean too, but he left you alone. Sam keeps trying.
“Sammy. Outside.” Dean pokes his head in the room. You hit the pause button on the book you’re not listening to and strain your ears against the highway noise to catch the conversation drifting through the thin walls.
“I don’t like you going alone,” Sam’s voice rumbles.
“I won’t be alone. Two extra hunters are enough. We gotta get back there before they recoup too much. Or worse, move again.”
“You know what I mean. We don’t know these guys that well. They won’t have your back like I would.”
“I’m a big boy, Sammy. You’re still hurt, anyway. And you have to stay here with her. She trusts you more.”
You scoff at the same time Sam does. “She hates me, dude.” He mumbles something else too quiet for you to hear.
“You gotta stop doing this to yourself. None of this is your fault.”
“If I’d left her alone, they never would have come after her. They grabbed her the very next night after I staked out her place. Sebastian made it clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.” The guilt is heavy in his voice. You feel some of your own tighten in your chest. You might be being too hard on him.
“You can’t live like that, shutting everyone out. People get hurt whether you’re around or not. It’s not a crime to like someone every once in a while.”
“Dean…”
“Whatever, man. I’m meeting up with the guys now to game plan. I’ll be back late and then we leave bright and early.” Dean shuffles a bag and then his footsteps begin moving away from the door. “Don’t let her push you around too much while I’m gone!” he yells and then the car door slams.
You snap your eyes shut as the door clicks open. He doesn’t even try to be discreet when he comes around the bed and leans over you. He steps away and sighs, heading to the bathroom where you can hear him quietly place an order for Chinese food. He remembers to ask for no mushrooms in your stir fry.
He flicks off the lights and tiptoes back to his corner, so he doesn’t disturb your fake slumber. He clicks at his computer, unaware of your turmoil.
A swirl of contrition, doubt, and frustration makes your head hurt. This time all of it is pretty much directed at yourself. Every spiteful action you’ve taken towards Sam comes back and pummels you in the gut. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew he never really deserved it. He’d only ever been nice. So annoyingly nice. Because he liked you? You press a thumb between your eyebrows, pushing away, not for the first time, the feelings you had when you met him. You feel like a silly teenager, denying your feelings, wanting to cry into a pillow, avoiding Sam as much as possible.
You’re a grown up. You can apologize. Just not right now.
-
You’re asleep before Dean gets back. The new unease in the presence of Sam, knowing you should talk to him, is making your head throb with a vengeance.
It isn’t the first time your dreams have taken a dark turn. You’re always back in that dark room. At least that’s where it feels like. You never saw the room where you were tied up, and your dream displays that same darkness. Every sense but sight is heightened. You hear every movement and hiss echo around you. You’re not tied up, but you can’t move. Hands grab at you, pulling hard at different limbs. Voices laugh at your cries as you lay helpless, only feeling the damage they leave to your lifeless form.
Sam wakes with a start when you cry out. The too small cot creaks as he extricates his aching body from it. Dean snorts loudly and groans, pulling a pillow over his head. Sam comes to your side and hesitates. Your face is scrunched up in obvious discomfort. His fingers twitch, wanting to smooth the lines between your brows. He wills himself to step away instead.
He’s almost back in bed when you start panting fast. This time he gives in to instinct, wrapping a hand around your ankle through the bedspread.
“Shh…It’s just a dream.”
The clawing hands turn to gentle caresses. Stroking your leg from knee to ankle, pushing hair from your forehead.
You blink and find moonlight streaming through cracks between thick green curtains. You shift in the sheets, grateful that you have control of your body again.
“You okay?” You jump hard at the gentle whisper. Sam’s hands move away from you and into his lap, but he stays seated on the edge of the bed by your feet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You were having a nightmare again.”
You blink a couple of times at his shadowed face and then burst into tears.
The mattress rocks as he settles his large frame next to you, and you let him pull you into his arms. The gesture wrenches a quiet sob out of you. “I know, I get them too. It’s awful,” he whispers into your hair, a warm hand moving in soothing circles on your back.
“I–I’m so scared…all the time.” The admission chokes out of you and into his soaked shirtfront.
He pulls up your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Your breath hitches. Somehow the affectionate statement both warms your bones and twists like a sharp knife in your chest at the same time.
“Sam, I…I’m really sorry.”
“What?” He laughs in genuine shock. You pull back a little.
“You’ve gone out of your way to be nice to me and I’ve gone out of my way to make you miserable. You don’t deserve it,” you sniff. “I’m afraid. And I’m angry. But not at you.”
“You’ve gone through a lot.”
You roll your still teary eyes and let out a sad laugh, “Ugh, like that.” You sigh and pull your good arm out of his grasp to wipe at your nose. “Thank you for saving me. And thank you for keeping me safe. Even from my own dreams.” You try to laugh again, but it doesn’t come out right. You shudder and his arms flex automatically, pulling you into him again. You breathe in his warmth and clean linen scent. You’re suddenly very aware of how intimate the embrace is, being in your bed, and your stomach flutters. His heart beats too fast beneath your ear and you smile a little. He feels it too, but he doesn’t let go. You can’t deny it feels right.
“You get nightmares too?” You break the silence; it feels so good to talk.
“Yeah, it comes with the territory. Everything is different when you know what’s really out there. When you look evil in the face.”
“But this is what you do? You and your brother? You…hunt things?”
He chuckles dryly, “The family business. We never knew anything different, me and Dean. Our dad was a hunter. When we woke up afraid there was a monster in the closet, he came in with a shotgun.”
“Oh…I can’t imagine.”
“It’s not so bad. We save people, do what the cops can’t.” You nod against his chest, sniffling quietly. “You think you can sleep again?”
“Yeah, maybe. I feel like I haven’t slept in days. I know it looks like I just lay here and sleep all the time, but every time I close my eyes I’m back there. I feel like a kid afraid of the dark.”
“A very rational fear, really.” His long hair flops over his smiling face as he relinquishes you to your pillow and pulls the covers up. Your fingers still grip his hand. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Would you?”
“Let’s see…tiny cot, or pretty girl?” he quips, sliding under the covers.
You settle into his warmth, anxiety melting away. Your cheeks are still hot with the blush his flirty remark brought on when you fall back asleep.
Dean trips over the cot, just a few steps shy of slipping out. He squints in the still mostly dark room, finding the cot empty. His stomach flips for a second, head whipping around. He breathes a relieved chuckle, finding his brother deep in sleep with you barely visible in his arms. “Sammy, you dog…” He hikes his bag back up onto his shoulder and shuts the door quietly behind him.
-
You’re alone when you wake up from the best sleep you’ve had in days. Your head feels markedly clearer as you sit up.
The shower shuts off and your heart flutters. How quickly your body’s involuntary response has changed at the thought of Sam. He strolls out, lower half wrapped in a towel, top half bare and still beaded with water droplets. Your blush heats all the way down to your shoulders. He’s perfectly muscled, and you glimpse a tattoo brandishing his upper left chest before you look pointedly up at his face. His smile is just as disarming as his nakedness.
“You’re up. How’d you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” you rub your eyes, still a little puffy from your cry. “I didn’t bother you?”
“Just one night on this thing is one too many; I’ll take a bed hog any day.” He folds the rickety cot in half easily with one hand, ignoring your indignant scoff. He grabs some clothes out of a duffel on the floor and heads back to the bathroom. “Get dressed,” he throws over his shoulder, “We’re going out.”
You don’t have a lot of options, but Dean did all right on his shopping trip. You move as quickly as one good arm will let you, excited to leave the much-resented motel room for the first time. Soon you’re dressed in some comfortable leggings and a T-Shirt, teeth brushed, and knots picked out of your hair with Sam’s tiny comb.
“Ready.” You beam. Sam, fully dressed now and stretched out on the tidy bed where he slept beside you, looks up from his laptop. He smiles back, pulling glasses off of his nose. You like the change: smiling when he looks at you instead of stares full of concern. He probably appreciates the lack of glares himself.
-
“A movie?” He asks, eyebrows raised.
“What, too regular for you?”
He laughs, “No, it sounds perfect actually.” He pulls out a familiar leather wallet and throws some cash on the table between your empty dishes. “I just can’t remember the last time I went to the movies.”
“We passed a theater a few blocks down.” You shrug, not ready to call it a day and hole back up in the motel.
“Lead the way.” He gestures, standing. It felt like the day at the library again. Being with him was easy. If you didn’t both look like you’d been in a car accident, you could almost imagine nothing crazy had ever happened.
The comforting, buttery smell of movie theater plasters a grin on your face. “I almost wish we hadn’t just eaten. Popcorn is my favorite.”
“Candy guy.” He smiles down at you.
“Oh yeah?”
“Ooohhh yeah. Anything sour.”
You walked into the very next movie they had showing, some sci-fi thing that you never would have picked in a million years. It was mediocre. Most of the day’s events had been mediocre, running errands for restocking the first aid kit, snack bag, plus some extra stuff for you to get by. And then an okay lunch followed by a passable movie.
It was the best day you’d had in a long time.
Your head hurts and your fingers are like sausages sticking out from your sling, but you can’t wipe a smile off your face as you walk back to the motel. You want to lace your fingers into the large hand swinging next to you. Besides some light flirting, everything has been above bar. You’re trying to work out a reason why he’d sleep next to you again instead of a perfectly good unused bed when his phone rings. He stops in his tracks.
“Dean, finally.” You can’t hear the other end, but his face darkens. “Okay. Yeah, we have more. Be careful.” He hangs up.
It’s him that reaches for your hand, but not in the way you pictured it. His long legs move quickly, pulling you behind him.
“The nest moved. They could be anywhere.” His words shoot ice-cold fear down your spine.
You struggle to keep up with his pace the whole way until he finally stops in the parking lot of the motel. He drops quickly to a knee. Is he tying his shoe? You’re about to question him, antsy to get inside and out of the darkening night, when he pulls up his pant leg and unstraps a long knife.
Shielded behind his back, you watch him thrust open the motel door in one quick movement. You stand in the corner while he checks the rest of the room. He grabs a bag and quickly heads for the door again.
“Stay here,” he directs firmly.
“Sam—” You hear the fear constricting your voice. His hand stops on the doorknob; the concerned eyes are back.
“I know. I’ll only be a minute, I promise.” And then he’s gone.
He’s true to his word, returning for you soon after he left. After being assured it’s safe, you reluctantly follow him back outside and around to the back of the building. He directs you to a strange smelling fire burning in a metal trashcan.
“It’s not perfect, but it can help throw them off. The smell.” With that, you move closer, reaching out a shaking hand to try and let the warmth draw the fear from you. His arm wraps around you and you lean into his side.
You stand quietly this way until the fire is down to smoking embers. “Come on,” he whispers, gently bringing you back to reality. He pulls the trashcan with him to the door. You sit on the end of the bed while he disables the smoke alarm, staring at the sliver of exposed skin above his belt as he reaches up with long arms.
The trashcan is left in the room to smoke it up while you both sit on the curb just outside. The smell is still heavy around you as smoke leaks from the open window. You’re grateful for his arm around you; the night is cold without the fire.
“I’m sorry. I want this to be over too.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” You only rest your aching head on his shoulder for a second before you snap it back up at his scoff. “Sam, I don’t blame you for any of this. I’d be dead without you.”
“You’d be at home still believing monsters aren’t real without me.”
You continue to stare at him, trying to catch his eye. “Well, I’m glad I met you.” It comes out angrier than you wanted it to. He finally meets your eyes. There is sadness there, but something else too.
In a second his lips are on yours. A shocked sigh leaves your mouth and enters his as his lips part. Your surprise and remaining dregs of fear melt away with the insistent heat of his mouth on yours. Too soon, he pulls away.
You’ve only just blinked open your heavy lids and he’s already pulled the metal can from the room and slammed a lid over it. He peers into the haze and looks back at you, eyes dark.
“It’s not too bad in there.” He jerks his head towards the open door and reaches out a hand for you.
Been inactive for a little while :P New Chapter coming soon!
