my_secret02

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jessica can only see one side of his face from here, but she can tell he's frowning.

"am i...doing something wrong?" sam asks. jessica sits up straighter, and looks at the bacon in the pan.

"nah," she says, "looks right to me."

she flops back down on the couch and back to her engineering textbook with a sigh. she hates electrical engineering, and has frequent daydreams about whatever asshole at stanford decided three electrical engineering electives were required for the major. she starts to chew on the end of her pen as tries to find the spot she left off.

"no," sam says, and he sounds...genuinely troubled. jessica drops the pen from her mouth and sits up properly this time, frowning. sam still isn't looking at her. he shifts on his feet. "i meant with us."

of all the things jessica was expecting sam to say, this wasn't one of them. is sam doing anything wrong? if he didn't look so pensive and upset, jessica would've laughed in his face.

jessica has never known a better alpha in her life, except her dearly departed momma, may she rest in peace. jess's last boyfriend had gotten growly and almost hit her when she went to study groups with other alphas in them. she had largely sworn of dating alphas at all on principle. until she met big-eyed, sweet-smelling, polite sam winchester in art history, rolling his eyes at the professor waxing poetic about gauguin.

he was snarky, and brilliant, and so damn aware of and respectful of her time and space that it made her head spin.

sam was even minoring in omega's studies--not in the way that some try-hard creepy alphas did as a trump card, but genuinely invested. my brother's an omega, he told her one time, in that hushed, breathless way that someone said i love you for the first time. whenever jess meets this guy, she owes him a damn bouquet.

"what do you mean?" jess asks carefully, because one of the only problems with sam is that he gets...odd sometimes.

it wasn't until their second year of dating--with two rounds of christmases and valentine's days and birthdays under their belts--for him to get her a gift that wasn't completely practical. he was really particular about safety, and would make sure that all of their windows were still locked before going to bed. jess's first heat when they had been a couple was strange. sam had literally stacked furniture against their front door to keep anyone else from coming in, and was hyper-aware of any sounds outside, like other alphas were going to come out of the walls and try to hurt her.

and he asked questions like this sometimes, like was trying to figure out exactly how relationships worked.

sam turns down the heat on the stove and moves the pan off of the hob. he forks the bacon over to a plate lined in a paper towel to soak the grease up with the methodical concentration of a chemist using a pipette. finally, he looks up at jess.

"i just mean." sam sighs out of his nose. he looks thirty seconds away from changing the topic entirely, letting the question hang forever. "i just mean, am i doing anything to make you uncomfortable? i haven't." sam frowns, clears his throat. he moves over to the couch, and jess closes her book so she can fold her legs and give him more room.

that's another thing about sam--anytime he wants to talk about something serious, he has to practically be face-first in her neck like huffing her scent can clear his head. it must be a comfort thing he picked up from somewhere, but jess is afraid to ask. for now, he settles on the other end of the couch, close enough that they're touching.

"i haven't heard you...purr. or anything. since we moved in together."

jessica blinks.

"what?"

sam scrambles. "i just mean. i--i mean, we've been together for two years now. and, uh. i mean. we've been living together for a while and you still haven't, uh. am i doing something wrong? to make you uncomfortable?"

jessica wants to laugh, but it's sam's dead-serious expression and soured smell of distress that stops her.

"um. sam." she sits up straighter. "baby."

sam's expression shutters slightly, so jessica hurries to say,

"purring isn't something that just, like. happens. omegas have to feel completely, totally serene. it's a psychological state, almost. my dad didn't even start purring until after i was born. it's not just something omegas do while going around day-to-day life. i don't think i've ever purred, actually."

sam's expression falls. he looks completely, inexplicably devastated.

"but..." he starts, "not always, right?"

jess cocks her head. she puts a hand on her boyfriend's thigh.

"are you okay?" she asks. sam reacts to her touch like it shocks him, and he stands up abruptly.

"yeah," he blurts, turning so she can't see his expression. "yeah, i'm fine."

Found The most adorable Wonder Woman look and had to draw it ❤️💙

(“op drew cas making angry angel noises @the burj khalifa…ofc i want one”

They're back at the motel. Dean can tell Sam is still antsy. Sam keeps insisting he's fine. He's very visibly not, but he says "g'night dean," and gets into bed and faces away from Dean and makes it Very Clear he's not gonna talk about this.

Dean tries to stay awake, he really does. He knows Sam isn't okay so he runs through everything he could do or say and he's fucking exhausted and nothing sticks and next thing, he's out like a light, sleep restlesses as he's in and out of consciousness because he's worried.

Sam focuses on Dean's breathing. He focuses on his own breathing. Lucifer is laughing at him. Pestering him. Sam feels flames lick at his heels and forces his breathing to stay as quiet as he can. He focuses on Dean's breathing. He tries to match his breathing to Dean's. Dean's his lifeline.

Dean finally seems to fall asleep. Sam tries to continue the act but Dean's asleep and who is he even pretending for? They both know Sam's lost his goddamn mind.

Sam rolls onto his back and looks over at Dean. He can barely see Dean through the flames. Lucifer laughs cruelly and he can't hear Dean breathe anymore. Sam's breathing has grown erratic and something in him shrivels and curls in further on himself because he can't see or hear Dean anymore and it's too dark and there's nothing to distract or pull Sam away from the hallucinations anymore.

He knows Dean is still there. He knows. He knows that he's with Dean in some fucking motel but then he feels the ghost of Lucifer's breath— a breath he doesn't even need to breathe— on his neck and Sam launches out of his bed, practically out of his own skin.

That wakes Dean with a start. He asks if Sam is okay and Sam fucking whines and Dean watches Sam worry his bottom lip as he begins pacing, running his hands through his hair, pale as a ghost. Dean calls out, "hey. Hey! Sam!" And he's harsher than he means to be, louder than he means to be, but Sam's head snaps towards him, eyes wild and they just. Just stare at each other for a second.

Sam hears Dean and suddenly everything grounds back into place. For a moment, one blissful moment, there's no flames, no Lucifer. He's right back in the motel with Dean and it's the middle of the night and he's just so tired and wants to curl up and fucking sleep.

And then he feels fingers run up his back. Delicate, deliberate, disgusting. "I can't sleep," Sam blurts, and he's looking at Dean, a pleading question in his eyes.

Sam hasn't given Dean that look in years. Since Sam was a kid with nightmares and way too old to be sleeping cuddled up to his big brother. But Dean could never deny Sam, not when he looks at him with those pleading, puppydog big brown doe eyes. So he just sighs like he hadn't drifted off thinking how he could suggest this exact thing without it being weird and pulls the covers aside and Sam practically flies from where he is across the room into Dean's arms.

Sam gets as close to Dean as he possibly can. Face buried in his neck, arms and legs fucking clinging to Dean like he's drowning. And it all comes pouring out. He's shaking. He's trying to not cry. He still feels the ghost of Lucifer's breath on his neck, right up until Dean pets a hand through his hair, down his neck over the spot, and it's gone. Fingers tailing down his spine evaporate as Dean rubs his back. Lucifer's voice becomes a distant, almost indistinct murmur as Dean whispers and coos soothing nothings into his hair.

It doesn't fix everything, but fuck it does help.

Dean becomes even more of a crutch. Every time things get to be a little Too Much for Sam, Sam finds himself instinctively reaching for Dean. Which can be a little weird when their posing as whatever authority the job needs, but whatever.

PERFECT 🤩

Let’s play the biggest game of kick the can on the internet.