Pounding. That was the first thing you registered. The incessant pounding behind your eyes, pulsing through your temples, everywhere in your head, really. Scratch that, everywhere in your entire body. What happened last night? You were pretty sure there was a bar, but you were positive that there was booze. Unwillingly, you let out a soft groan as you tried to gather your bearings. Well, first of all, you were totally naked, which was not a regular occurrence, but also not the worst thing you could've woken up to, all things considered. Now, there was just a matter of finding out where the hell you were. Hopefully, one of the boys had driven you home last night; otherwise, you were in deep shit. When you tried to open your eyes, the blinding light of a lamp from a bedside table pierced through your vision. Whimpering softly, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Damned hangovers. Someone groaned next to you, and despite your resistance to face the day, your eyes flew open, the tableside lamp forgotten. You knew that groan all too well. After years of sleeping in motel rooms together, it wasn't difficult to place. As you rolled over, you prayed that your brain had made an incorrect assumption, and you weren't in bed with a Winchester. A pair of hazel eyes squinted over at you as your heart hammered loudly in your chest. Sam's hair stuck up wildly in a halo of frizz around his face as he sat up. Groaning again, he passed a hand over his face.
"Y/N?" he asked, voice still rough from sleep. As he noticed the only thing covering you was a sheet, his eyes widened. "Is... is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" You eyed his chiseled abs, unable to help yourself, and blushed.
"Well, to be fair, you're naked too," you pointed out. Sam looked down at himself and lifted the sheet slightly, eyes widening even more.
"We didn't have sex, did we?"
"I don't know about you," you began, trying to keep the snark in your voice to a minimum, "but if I wake up naked in bed with someone, usually more than just sleep happened." He blinked a few times with disbelief.
"How did we even-" Suddenly, your stomach lurched, and you bolted to the bathroom, clamping your hand down over your mouth. Barely making it to the toilet in time, your exposed knees slammed painfully against the cold tile. When your heaving had finally ceased, you spit one final time, trying to rid your mouth of the acidic taste as you held onto the toilet seat for dear life. "You okay?" Sam asked cautiously as he draped a sheet over your naked body. You eyed him warily, grateful he had found the time to pull on a pair of sweatpants.
"Sam, we had sex last night!" you exclaimed shrilly. "Drunk sex! Which is arguably the worst kind of sex, since I can't remember a damn thing! I mean, did we use protection? I mean, I'm on the pill, but-" Sam shook his head frantically.
"I know, I know," he said, trying to talk you down. "And I'm sorry. I really hope we didn't just ruin our friendship, Y/N. I know you have feelings for Dean, and I don't want to screw that up." Your eyes instantly widened.
"Dean?" you repeated incredulously. "Sam, I do not have feelings for Dean!" He stood quickly, looking flushed.
"It's okay," he reassured. "You don't have to hide it from me." Just as quickly as he had followed you, he was gone, leaving you alone.
Your hair was still damp from showering when you pulled it up into a messy bun. Dean greeted you with a grunt as he stumbled through the kitchen's archway. Looking over your shoulder at him, you snickered at the dark sunglasses he was wearing.
"Well, hello to you, too, sunshine. Looks like you've had a lively morning." He sat down at the table and groaned as you pulled two glasses from the cupboard.
"Mistakes were made," Dean grumbled.
"Tell me about it," you muttered to yourself, pouring two glasses of tomato juice. When you held the red liquid out to him, he eyed you over the top of his sunglasses. "Come on, it'll help with the hangover. And from the looks of you, you could sure as hell use it." Dean took the glass ruefully.
"You're one to talk, princess," he replied. "Your hangover face is a hell of a lot worse than mine." You downed three Tylenol with the juice, tossing him the bottle when you were finished.
"Well, at least my face could be fixed with a shower, hotshot," you bantered. "Yours, on the other hand..."
"You see, Y/N, there's a perfect remedy for my hangover face," he explained. You raised your eyebrows.
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Like, a thousand years of sleep, and you shutting the hell up." Snorting, you shook your head and turned around, stretching. As you did, you heard Dean splutter behind you.
"What's the matter with you?" you demanded, whirling around to see a fine mist of tomato juice settling on the kitchen table. Dean stood from his seat and came over to you, lifting the hem of your shirt above your left hipbone. You smacked his hand away. "Dean!"
"Are those bruises?" he demanded. Confused, you raised the shirt slightly yourself and stared at the light purple finger-shaped marks on your hip. He pointed to your neck. "And is that a hickey?" You clapped your hand over your neck, and he smirked.
"You hooked up with someone last night!" Dean leaned toward you. "What's his name?" You blushed.
"I, uh..." The older Winchester grinned widely.
"Didn't even get his name before you bumped uglies? Damn, Y/N. Didn't know you were such a minx." He picked up his glass from the table, raising it to his lips.
"It was Sam," you confessed quietly. Dean choked on his tomato juice.
"...I'm sorry, what?"
"I hooked up with Sam," you repeated. You were expecting him to be angry or upset, but instead, he just chuckled.
"'Bout damn time you two got together," he said under his breath. You looked at him in bewilderment, earning a roll of his eyes. "Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you're in love with him. I can see it in the way you look at him." You sunk into a nearby chair and held your face in your hands.
"I went and fucked everything up," you muttered miserably. Dean crouched at your side.
"I don't get it," he said, "ain't this a good thing?"
"He thinks I have feelings for you." Dean was quiet for a moment.
"Do you?" Not looking up, you punched him in the arm. "All right, all right! Just double-checking." He shook his head. "Okay, there's a real easy solution to this." Skeptical, you squinted over at him.
"What is it?" Before you could protest, Dean had you by the arm, pulling you down the hall towards Sam's room. "Dean, shit, really?"
"Hell yeah, Y/N," he replied seriously. "You two have been makin' eyes at each other for too damn long. Someone has to say something, might as well be you, right?"
"I don't think that's-" Dean rapped on Sam's door before throwing it open, shoving you into his room. Sam looked up from his laptop in surprise, his eyebrows practically shooting up into his hairline.
"Uh, Dean?"
"Y/N likes you," Dean explained, causing your face to go beet red. "Not me. So, you two sit down and figure this out, or so help me God, I will lock you in a room together until you do." Without another word, the oldest Winchester pulled the door shut, leaving you and Sam in stunned silence. Not the method you would have chosen, but you had to admit, if Dean hadn't forced you to do it, you weren't sure if you would have at all. When it became clear that Sam wasn't going to break the silence, you cleared your throat awkwardly.
"He, uh... isn't very subtle, is he?" He shook his head lightly.
"No, not really." You sat down on the mattress next to him as you breathed a sigh. "Y/N, why didn't you tell me?" Shoulders sagging, you shook your head.
"I tried!" was your answer. "Remember? This morning, I tried to tell you I didn't have feelings for Dean, but you didn't listen." Sam's eyes widened as if he was actually hearing you for the first time.
"But, I-I," he stammered. "You have feelings... for me?” Hearing him say the words made your heart skip a beat, and you nodded.
"I do."
"Why?" Sam asked incredulously. "I'm not-" Oh, for Christ's sake. You planted a firm kiss on his lips, effectively cutting him off. "You're so out of my league, Y/N," he whispered after a moment. You smiled gently at him.
"How about you let me decide that, okay?" Finally, he nodded and wrapped you in his warm embrace. You were going to have to remember to thank Dean later.
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