ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `new years eve kiss, sam winchester ༘♡
summary: you spend new years eve with sam. he decides he wants to end the year with a bang; figuratively and physically. word count: 663 pairing: sam winchester x reader
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
You sit at the long table in the library, a mug warming your hands. The clock on the wall ticks loud enough to echo through the cold, metal walls.
Sam stands a few feet away, flipping through a lore book he’s not actually reading. You can tell because he’s been on the same page for five minutes. His brow is furrowed, hair falling into his eyes, sleeves pushed up like he forgot about them hours ago.
“You’re gonna memorize that page if you keep staring at it,” you say.
He blinks, then smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry.”
He closes the book and sets it aside, finally looking at you. When Sam looks at you like that: soft, attentive, like you’re something fragile and important at the same time—it makes your chest ache.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks.
You shake your head. “Feels wrong to sleep through the end of the year.”
Sam nods. “Yeah. I get that.”
He moves closer, pulling out the chair beside you and sitting down. His knee brushes yours under the table, and neither of you move away.
Outside the bunker, the world is celebrating. Fireworks, crowds, noise. Down here, it’s just the two of you and the steady passage of time.
“I used to hate New Year’s,” Sam admits quietly.
You glance at him. “Used to?”
He exhales. “It always felt like… everyone else was moving forward. And I was just... stuck. Or running.”
You think about the man sitting next to you. About the year he lost himself. About the year he fought his way back. About how hard he’s worked just to be here.
“And now?” you ask.
Sam looks at you, really looks. His eyes soften in a way that makes your breath hitch.
“Now I feel like I made it,” he says. “Like… maybe I didn’t miss everything.”
Your heart stutters. “Sam...”
The clock clicks over to 11:58.
Neither of you speak. There’s too much in the air already—too many words hovering just out of reach.
Sam’s hand shifts on the table, inching closer to yours. His fingers brush your knuckles, tentative, like he’s testing the ground before stepping forward.
“You don’t have to—” you start.
“I know,” he says gently. “I just… want to.”
So you let him.
Your fingers lace together, and Sam exhales like he’s been holding that breath for months. His thumb rubs slow circles over your skin, grounding, familiar.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
“For what?”
“For staying,” he says. “For not giving up on me. Even when I wasn’t really… here.”
Your throat tightens. “You never left.”
The TV in the corner flickers to life with a countdown you didn’t realize was on.
Ten.
Sam glances at the screen, then back to you. Something shifts in his expression—resolve, mixed with a little fear.
Nine.
“You know,” he says softly, “I’m not great at timing.”
You smile. “You’re doing okay.”
Eight.
He squeezes your hand. “If I don’t say this now, I’m gonna talk myself out of it.”
Seven.
Your heart pounds.
Six.
“I love you,” Sam says.
The words land gently, but they hit you right in the heart.
Five.
You don’t hesitate. “I love you too.”
Four.
Relief floods his face, bright and overwhelming. He laughs quietly, disbelieving.
Three.
He leans in, slow enough to give you time to pull away.
You don’t.
Two.
His lips meet yours in a kiss that’s tender and sure, like he’s been practicing it in his head for a long time. One hand cups your cheek, warm and steady, grounding you in the moment.
One.
The year changes around you.
Fireworks crackle faintly aboveground. Cheers echo from the TV. But all you hear is Sam’s breath, all you feel is the way he kisses you like this is a promise, not just a celebration.
When you pull back, he rests his forehead against yours, smiling like he finally let himself be happy.
“Happy New Year,” he whispers.
You smile back. “Happy New Year, Sammy.”
✧ 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.ᐟ // ✧𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 // ✧𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.ᐟ
