♧ always been a storm ♧

tonight, they do.

your arms loop around his neck, face buried in the warm skin just below his ear. the smell of him—soap and a hint of beer and that faint library-book scent he always carries—makes everything feel safe even while the world tilts.

“i’m so damn in love with you, sam,” you mumble, lips brushing his earlobe. the words tumble out sloppy and honest, soaked in tequila.

sam stills for half a second, his grip tightening. then a slow grin spreads across his face, surprised and so damn bright it cuts through the haze in your head. he pulls back just enough to look at you, hazel eyes warm and a little wide.

“say that again,” he says, voice low, right against your mouth.

your knees buckle a little more. you smile, drunk and dizzy and stupidly happy. “i said i’m stupidly in love with you, sammy.”

the grin turns into something hungrier. he doesn’t answer with words. instead he catches your hand, laces your fingers together, and starts weaving through the crowd toward the back hallway. you stumble after him, giggling, the music still thumping in your chest.

he pushes open the bathroom door—a single stall—locks it behind you with a quick click, and the noise of the bar dulls to a muffled pulse.

before you can say anything he lifts you, big hands under your thighs, and sits you on the edge of the counter, your ass half in the sink, the porcelain is cool through your skirt. sam steps between your legs, tall frame crowding you, and you feel how hard he already is, pressed right against your core through his jeans.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours. his voice is rough, breath warm with alcohol and want brushing your cheek. “you can’t just say shit like that when i’m trying to be responsible.”

you laugh softly, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the warm skin of his back. “but i mean it. been meaning it for months. just… scared, i guess. now i’m drunk and brave.”

sam kisses you then, deep and messy, tongues sliding together while his hands push your skirt higher up your thighs. you moan into his mouth, needy, hips rocking forward to chase the friction.

he’s so hard it makes your stomach flutter.

responsible sam, always the careful one, still pulls a condom from his wallet without breaking the kiss. you hear the foil tear and it sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

“need you,” you whisper against his lips, fingers fumbling with his belt. “right now, sam. please.”

“i’ve got you.” his voice cracks a little, too much feeling packed into three words.

he shoves his jeans and boxers down just enough, rolls the condom on with steady hands even though his breath is coming fast. then he’s pushing your panties aside, fingers sliding through your slick folds once, twice, checking you’re ready.

“jesus christ, baby,” he hisses.

you are. embarrassingly so. the alcohol and the confession and the way he’s looking at you like you hung the moon have you dripping.

he lines up and sinks in slow, one long push that stretches you open and steals the air from your lungs. you gasp, head falling back against the mirror, and sam groans low in his throat, hips stuttering once before he catches himself.

“god, you feel so good,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours again. he starts moving, deep and steady, the angle perfect because of how high the counter is.

every thrust drags against that spot inside you that makes sparks shoot up your spine.

“been wanting to hear you say it. i love you too, baby. so fucking much. didn’t know how to say it either.”

your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in through his shirt. the confession feels raw, perfect, the words tumbling out between moans and the wet sound of skin meeting skin.

“love you,” you pant, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. “love your stupid giant brain and how you make me coffee exactly right and how you look at me like i’m the only person in the room even when we’re in a crowd.”

sam’s rhythm falters for a second, then picks up, harder, deeper, like your words are fuel. the counter creaks under you. his hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that make your vision spark white at the edges.

“say it again,” he demands softly, voice strained. “please.”

“i’m in love with you, sam winchester.” the words come out breathy, broken by a moan when he hits that perfect angle again. “so in love it scares me sometimes.”

he kisses you hard, swallowing the sound, hips snapping forward. the tension coils tight and fast, alcohol making everything feel brighter, more intense. you come first, clenching around him with a cry that he muffles against your neck, body shaking through the waves.

sam follows right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name, hips jerking through the aftershocks. for a long moment you just cling to each other, breathing hard, hearts hammering in sync.

he stays inside you while you both come down, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “we’re doing this right,” he whispers, still a little breathless. “the apartment, the future, all of it. i’m not letting you go.”

you smile against his skin, drunk and sated and so full of love it hurts in the best way. your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close while the muffled music from the bar pulses on.

the bathroom light is too bright and the counter is uncomfortable and tomorrow you’ll probably have a killer hangover, but right now none of that matters. sam is warm and solid and yours, and the words you finally said are still hanging in the air between you like a promise neither of you plan to break.

But when you guys started hunting together, that stereotype was beaten. Fine, Dean can be a bit of an asshole when he wants. And even if he treats women like he can handle every single one of them, he isn't the best example of responsibility in the world. But Sam? Oh, with Sam, things are pretty different. He is responsible, careful, respectful, everything a woman could wish for... And you were starting to take a look at that. How he always held the door open for you to pass, how he held your hand for support when you guys had to climb over anything taller than 5 feet, how he would carry you if you got hurt on a hunt... And so much more. Since the beginning, Sam caught your attention with his contagious smile and his way of wording everything just right. Plus his actions? That made you a little confused about your own feelings towards the man. When you noticed those small details more often, you knew it was too late. You were so into him. Of course you could mask it well in the beginning, since you were not the kind of person to make your taste for people obvious. If someone asked, you'd admit he was pretty much your type, but never to him. No, that would ruin everything you guys had built together. The trust between you two would be over if he knew a percentage of how much you noticed. Especially when Dean kept repeating that speech of "hunters don't date". He reminded you enough to make the mere thought of attraction to his younger brother impossible to act on. Recently, you caught yourself checking him out, and you were pretty sure it was so obvious. The idea of him catching you staring at his delicate touch on the books, his muscles that appeared clearly against the thin fabric of his shirt, the way his hands slid down slowly against your arms when he was worried... It was unbearable to not look. You just wanted to take him and– Your thoughts were cut. The sound of the clock hand ticking right upon you made your head shake slightly, blinking your eyes a couple times to put yourself back into reality. A soft rain fell outside the cozy room the three of you were staying in. Scanning the room with your eyes, you get a reminder of the current situation. You were nervous because Dean left to drink, and since you and Sam weren't feeling like it, the only option was staying alone with him in the room. You were sitting on the soft mattress, legs stretched over the bed, back against the wooden headboard, book in your hands that was abandoned for a good time since you zoned out in your thoughts. It was boring there except for the fact that you physically couldn't talk normally when you were close to him now. So, optioning for a break of your feelings, you stood up, calm steps over the room in your way to the door. Midway, Sam stopped you, calling out and looking at your direction. "Where are you going?" He asked calmly, waiting for your answer as he stared. You spun, looking at him with parted lips, raising your hand slightly to point your thumb at the door behind you. Your voice finally came out.

"Oh, I was just going on my way to get something to eat. Y'know." You say in a low tone, eyes slowly driving down to avoid his direct gaze. He notices, and there you think "yeah, it's over for me. He found out." But then, he replies with a laugh. A warm, unexpected laugh that makes your shoulders stiffen for a second, wondering if you sounded so pathetic that he was making fun of it. Your confused face makes him look up at you, shaking his head and not answering, making you ask.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's that you can't even look at me properly without staring." He says, and you wonder if this is just a really bad nightmare. Your eyes widen slightly for a second, brows furrowing in confusion as you look at him like he just said that Santa was real.

"...What are you talking about?"

"About your stares, obviously." He answers so casually that makes you wonder about how long he had been noticing.

"Stares...?" You act dumb, hoping he bites the bait. He doesn't. Instead, a small smirk grows on the corners of his lips, showing his dimples. You keep silent, not able to answer for a good five seconds of parted lips and overthinking.

"Yeah. You really thought I wouldn't notice." He stands up, making the situation even more intimidating for you. Your eyes quickly go up to his, trying to look for an excuse.

"Sam, it- it wasn't like that."

"Yeah? So, how was it?"

"I didn't meant to- to stare so... So–"

"So?" He cuts you off, smirk still on his face like you're entertaining him. It's certainly not funny to you.

"I-Im sorry. You can–" You cut yourself with a small gasp. "You can punish me for that..." You speak a little more fast, spitting words that just randomly come up to your mind. Sam seems to enjoy that.

"I can?" He doubts your affirmation. You nod, seeing him step closer to you, eyes wandering yours in a way that you couldn't quite describe.

"Yeah, we would have a great time togeth–" Sam cuts you off with a gentle press of his lips on yours, making you instantly melt against him. His hands take the lead, going on your waist and lower back, pulling you closer. Yours stand in the air until you feel his touch against you first, placing them on his neck and hair after.

His lips are soft and velvety, his movements are gentle, his tongue involves yours softly like you always dreamt of. This doesn't feel real, but it feels just like how you always imagined. Sam touches you gently, fingers pressing against your skin as you kiss him back almost desperately for good seconds. You two slowly split up, panting against each others mouths.

When Sam looks at you, he smiles. And then you notice, you finally notice. He's been mocking you, making you desperate over nothing. With that realization, you protest, flushed, but still (not) upset.

"You– You were teasing me this whole time!" The words come out of your mouth, making him instantly chuckle in response, seeing how long it took you to see it. Your silence makes him tilt his head slightly, fingers gently touching your cheek, sliding down your jaw as he answers.

"Okay, I teased you... But, you could've just told me, you know. Instead of... Staring at me everywhere." You feel your face heat, rolling your eyes at his jokingly tone. A soft sigh drops from your lips, the comfortable silence between you two making the atmosphere warmer. Lastly, Sam speaks in a low tone, smiling at you softly.

"Next time, just tell me what you need."