#nervous!reader

James looks like he is trying very hard to not meet at your piercing gazes, as if any of you might have summoned the power to turn him to stone.

"Is it?" James' voice is strained as he speaks, "Okay, my fault, my fault. Honest mistake. I'm sure this happens all the time, yeah?"

"Not really." The desk agent says, a hint of judgement in her tone.

James, with his lips pressed into a flat line and eyes squinted, is failing very hard at not looking peeved at her.

"We should've let Rem do the planning," Sirius says through a yawn, letting his head fall on Remus' shoulder. It was already very late when you arrived at the hotel, and all four of you just wanted to crash in a warm bed. Remus slung his arm around Sirius' shoulders, rubbing his arm as a comfort.

Meanwhile, you shift your footing as you move your heavy bag from one shoulder to the other, your impatience and fatigue clearly growing.

James paid Sirius’ comment no mind, his attention all on you as eyes flick your way when he notices your discomfort in his peripheral vision. Wordlessly, he takes your bag off your arm and slings it over his own.

"We can fix this, can't we?" James asks, "Can we move that booking to today?"

"We don't do that for bookings that didn't pay the insurance fee, and it says here that you didn't pay the insurance fee. That also means the trip is non-refundable as well."

"Okay!” James feels an eye twitch coming on, “Fine, what rooms aren't booked? We'll just book new rooms, no big deal," James' says, his own growing impatience evident in his tone. He pulls a credit card from his wallet and taps it restlessly on the stone counter.

You and Remus stand there wide eyed, about to protest, while Sirius begins to look for his own wallet. James waves Sirius off and reassures you and Remus with an "I've got it."

The desk agent ignores the slight commotion as she reads from her screen, "Well, you're in luck. We have two queen rooms left."

"Wait," you interject, "Queen rooms? Because one of them needs to be a double."

"Those are the last rooms available." She confirms.

"Well, is there a pull-out sofa in either of them? A regular sofa? Anything?" You ask, desperation growing as the agent shakes her head at all of your suggestions, "A cot we can roll into the room even?"

"We ran out," she says, tone laced with faux sympathy.

"Well, one bed is fine with us, obviously," Sirius smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. Yet again, he is ignored. Well, not by Remus, who squeezes his shoulder.

James faces you and puts a gentle hand on your arm, "Hey, it'll be fine. We'll figure it out when we get up there, yeah?"

You sigh, but digress with a simple nod.

As soon as James says "We'll take them" the agent is listing off the price for the rooms for the duration of your stay.

"Wait, wait, wait!" James tries to stop her.

You jaw goes slack, "What?"

"Sorry?" tumbles from Remus' lips at the same time.

Sirius is the only one who looks unbothered, his eyes flicking between you and Remus as he asks, "Is that supposed to be a lot?"

"That's wildly more expensive than what we paid originally,” you protest. "The old price is only worth one night of this new price!"

"Oh, I remember why we didn't let Moony do the booking," Sirius comments, and the reason for the price difference suddenly dawns on you.

James looks at you with a sheepish grin as the wheels turn in your head. James and Sirius clearly took the brunt of the expenses, letting you and Remus only pay your share for a single night, passing it off as the full price.

"James!" You ridicule.

"We wanted you guys to be able to stay somewhere nice for once!" He defends stridently.

"First of all, offensive. And second of all, there are nice hotels that don't cost over a thousand dollars a night!"

"It's endearing that you think that's a lot for two rooms."

"Once again, offensive!"

"So, will you be taking the rooms?" The agent interjects.

James doesn't break eye contact with you, his lips molding into a cheeky grin as he slides his credit card across the desk, "Yes, we will."

⋆⋅✶⋅⋆

When you reach the room, the site of the single bed makes you huff indignantly, but you had to admit that the room was pretty nice. And just by looking at the bed you could tell it's comfortable.

"They could have totally fit a couch in here," you take notice of how spacious the room is. "Five hundred dollar rooms should come with couches. You're getting scammed, James."

James chuckles as he places both of your bags on the floor.

"We have a desk," he says as if it's helpful, "a TV, wardrobe..."

"None of which are particularly useful right now," you comment.

James shrugs, approaching the inviting bed. He starts picking up pillows and dropping them on the floor.

"What are you doing?" you ask, moving to stand next to him.

"Makin' a place to sleep," he answers.

"No! No way, you're not sleeping on the floor!" you protest.

"You made it pretty clear you wanted separate places to sleep," James says.

"Well yes, but you should have the bed. I feel bad enough as it is that you've paid for this whole thing twice, I couldn't live with myself if I let you sleep on the floor."

"And I'm too much of a gentleman to let a lady sleep on the floor," he says as he lowers himself to the ground, laying his head on the pillows, "I've always been partial to a firm bed anyway."

"James! No way!"

"Listen, the only way I'm sleeping in that bed is if we both are, otherwise-"

"Fine,” you say sharply.

"Wait, what?"

You put your hands on your hips, "I said fine! But keep those pillows on your side, you've tainted them with the floor."

James watches as you saunter off to the bathroom, retrieving your toothbrush and pajamas from your bag on your way. The whole time, he remained on the floor, too stunned to move.

Of course, when James heard there would only be one bed, he was secretly a little excited, which may or may not have to do with the little (not so little) crush he has on you. But when you expressed concern over the situation, he knew immediately that he'd be sleeping on the floor, and sharing a bed with you would have to remain a lovely little dream. When he suggested otherwise just now, it was just banter and a way to get you to agree to him sleeping on the floor. He didn't actually mean it. But then you said fine.

James' fingertips fiddle with the fibers of the carpet as he contemplates this, still lying on the floor. He replays the moment in his head, checking his memory for your tone. Did you sound annoyed? Uncomfortable? James really does not want to make you uncomfortable. Even the possibility that he has makes him want to punch himself.

You were suddenly standing over James again in a fresh set of pajamas, "Why are you still on the floor?"

"You meant it?" The words tumble from James' mouth as if they were one.

“Yes, James, I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“But are you okay with it?” James clarified.

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t gonna be uncomfortable for you? You were really concerned about the prospect of sharing a bed. If this is gonna make you uncomfortable, well, I’d rather beg Sirius and Remus to let me sleep on the foot of their bed like a dog.”

You chuckle at the image of James curled up by Remus and Sirius’ feet.

“Yes, James. I’m okay with it. What would make me feel uncomfortable is you sleeping on the floor whilst I’m alone in a bed big enough for two. Honest.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Now would you please get up from the floor?”

James sticks his hands up like a child, wiggling his fingers at you. You roll your eyes, but the way your lips curl up at the corners reveal you’re not truly annoyed with him.

You grab hold of James’ hands and heave him up, stumbling back a bit once you’ve got him upright. James helps steady you before he goes off to get ready for bed.

Meanwhile, you begin to tuck under the covers.

Lying in a bed has never felt so unnatural. You try fluffing the pillows, lying on either side and your stomach before returning to your back, taking the covers off of one leg then putting them back on—nothing feels right.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t the bed that was the problem but rather your nerves. The reason you were originally so concerned about having to sleep in the same bed as James is your little (not so little) crush on the boy. Just thinking about it made your heart race and you were sure you wouldn’t survive the night. You couldn’t even believe it was really happening until James pads back into the room from the bathroom and begins to join you.

You watch as he picks the pillows up from the floor, brushes them off, and places them back on the bed. Your body stiffens when he climbs in after them.

James is getting under the covers when he freezes, “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes, James. If I start to not be okay with it I promise I’ll kick you out.” You were lying but apparently it was convincing enough for James to resume settling into the bed.

Before completely settling in, James reaches towards the switch for the lamp. He pauses as he asks, “Ready for lights out?”

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak in case your voice might be high pitched and riddled with nerves.

With your confirmation, James hits the switch and you’re engulfed in darkness.

Your eyes screw shut as you feel the bed creak and shift while James gets comfortable. When he stops, you feel the hairs stick up on the back of your neck.

You open your eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness before you strain them by attempting to look at James without moving your neck. You can just barely see the position he’s chosen.

“Are you-? Are you facing me?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you maybe not?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah sorry.”

You feel the bed creak again one final time as James settles down on his back.

Upon some reflection, James realizes it is probably weird to face the person you’re platonically sharing a bed with. He just couldn’t help it. In his fantasies, you’d both face each other and have hushed conversations that would keep you up late. You’d be laughing and giggling with each other through the night, scooting closer as you did, until you found yourselves drifting off in each other’s arms.

Instead, you both lay stiffly on your backs, as close to your respective edges of the bed as you could get. It’s not James’ ideal situation, but he’s giddy nonetheless, craning his neck to steal glances at you often until he falls asleep.

You assume James is a restless sleeper, not thinking anything else of the way his head keeps moving back and forth, making shuffling noises against his pillow.

When there hasn’t been any shuffling noises for a few minutes, you let out a breath you’d been holding back. You didn’t want to make any noise at all while James was still awake, as if that would make it seem like you weren’t there at all.

Now that James is asleep and can no longer perceive you, you let your stiff muscles relax into the mattress and take a deep breath. You try to close your eyes and drift off, but they frustratingly shoot open a few moments later. Sleep would not be possible so long as your heart keeps beating the way that it does.

You look at James through the corner of your eyes, noticing the way his chest rises and falls steadily. You try to match his breaths, convinced that if you breathe like a sleeping person you’ll be able to fall asleep to.

Unfortunately, it was useless. Nothing could soothe the knots in your stomach, nor dull the sensation of James’ presence burning like a steady flame at your side. You’ll have to just accept it—so long as the boy of your dreams is next to you, you won’t be getting much sleep.

⋆⋅✶⋅⋆

By the third day of your trip, your exhaustion was painfully obvious.

On the first, you were yawning all day, but you were able to brush it off as no big deal.

The second day you fell asleep on the beach the moment your back hit the sandy towel. Sirius and Remus had to endure all of James' fussing over the fact that you could get sunburnt. When James was spraying aerosol sunscreen over you, both concerned that you hadn't reapplied yet and wanting to let you sleep, the wind blew the spray right into Sirius' face. He snatched the t-shirt you were using to cover your face from the sun at once, startling you awake with a shout that it was time to reapply.

Today, day three, is a pool day, and you were nearly drifting off again. This time, it was happening while you’re in the water, your head resting atop your folded arms that drape over the pool's edge.

James is watching you carefully from his spot on a pool chair, making sure you didn’t actually fall asleep in the water. His concern for your safety and need to rest clashing yet again.

Sirius and Remus join James in adjacent pool chairs with drinks from the hotel’s Tiki Bar, but James pays them no mind as they sit down.

“Alright, James?” Remus asks.

“Yeah,” James responds, not taking his eyes off you.

“You seem tense.” Remus points out, “You do know we’re on vacation, right?”

“I’m worried that if I look away she’ll fall asleep and drown.” James voices his concerns.

“Eh, but if you let her you'll get to give her mouth to mouth,” Sirius jokes, and he’s the only one who laughs at it. Though, Remus does give into an amused head shake.

“Why’s she been so tired anyway?” Remus asks.

“Dunno,” James replies, “I don’t think she sleeps much. Every morning I wake up she’s already up and out of the bed, ready for the day.”

“How is the single bed life treating you?” Sirius teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

James purses his lips, “It’s… not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Ooh and how’d you picture it?” Sirius asks suggestively, earning a slap on the arm from Remus.

“I may have been holding out hope for the morning we’d wake up wrapped up in each other’s arms. Or the night where we’d stay up talking and we’d scooch closer and closer until we couldn’t deny the tension between us anymore and we’d kiss and fireworks would go off outside our window.”

“Oh. Wow.” Remus’ comments when James concludes his wistful rambles, finding them to be... interesting.

“Quite the hopeless romantic, are you?” Sirius teases.

James sighs, frowning, “Wanna know what happens instead? We lay stiff as boards, as far apart as possible, staring at the ceiling in silence until I fall asleep. No late night chats and no surprise morning cuddles.”

What James doesn't know that you have woken up curled up against him, his arms comfortably at around your waist, holding you flush against his side. It happened after the first night, and you quickly but carefully peeled yourself out of the bed the minute you came to. The possibility of that happening again and James being the one to wake up first terrified you, making it that much harder for you to get sleep at night. When you did sleep, it was extremely lightly, and you often woke up constantly to make sure you hadn’t accidentally drifted over to his side of the bed.

Remus squints at James, finding his longing quite painful to watch. James should just talk to you, Remus thinks.

"She looks like she's really dozing off, now," Remus says to help him along.

James' spine straightens with alarm, "You think!?" he asks, standing at once to jog to your rescue.

When you hear James' feet pad against the ground, you look up, eliciting a sigh of relief from him.

"Hey," he said softly as he slows his approach, "you're scaring me, over here."

"Scaring you?"

James sits on the edge of the pool next to you, letting his legs dip into the water, "This just isn't the safest place for you to fall asleep."

"I'm not falling asleep," you protest, but a yawn betrays you.

James shakes his head, light chuckles falling from his lips. When he settles with a sigh, he says, "You're exhausted, love. Can I ask what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," you say, your eyebrows twitching together in confusion.

"Then why aren't you sleeping at night?" James' lips tug down in the corners.

"I am sleeping," you insist softly.

"Not enough, clearly. What is it? I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I? Because you can still kick me to the curb."

"No, I'm not uncomfortable, James," you look away from him bashfully. You really wish James wouldn't pry about this, you had no excuse, besides your feelings for him, which is one you definitely couldn't use. You chew your lip as you attempt to think of another.

James raises an eyebrow at your behavior, "You're certainly acting uncomfortable. Did I do something wrong?" His tone is dejected, like he's sad that you don't feel at ease around him.

You feel bad instantly, not wanting to be the cause of his low spirits. Your head snaps to look at him, "No! It's not that!"

"Then what?" James shakes his head. He studies you, trying to determine what could possibly be wrong. His eyes bore into yours and you feel yourself instinctively shrinking away from him. Your fingers start to fiddle with the string bracelet that you're wearing, arms still resting on the edge of the pool, though you have stood up straighter now.

His features smooth over in realization as he notices your behavior isn't exactly coming from a place of discomfort, although, he was close.

"Oh. You're nervous around me, aren't you?"

"What!? Of course not," you say quickly, yet your head dips down and you won't meet his gaze once again.

James decides to test the theory. He pushes himself up with the heels of his palms and lowers himself into the pool next to you. He stands in the water, close enough for his chest to lightly brush against your arm.

His voice is low when he speaks, "Look at me."

You barely move your head, just enough to see him comfortable if you look through the corner of your eyes. James' hand settles under your chin to guide your head the rest of the way. His gaze feels scrutinizing, and James catches the way you chew on the inside of your cheek.

"You're absolutely nervous," he decides, and there's a glimmer of hope in his eyes, "Why?"

"It's like you're trying to make me uncomfortable. Do you want to sleep on the floor or something?"

"No, I just want to sleep with you," he blurts without thinking.

You veer back from him and his hands immediately fly up in surrender.

James, suddenly the more flustered one of the two of you, speaks frantically, "Not like–! I didn't mean it like that!"

"And how exactly did you mean it?" you ask, taken completely aback.

"I want to hold you. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms," he rambles, "I- I want to be with you, god, I like you."

You're shocked into silence. James' eyes desperately dart across your features, looking for any kind of reaction or sign.

Once he starts looking a little hopeless the words are ripped from your throat, "I like you too. I want all of that too."

James puffs out a breath in disbelief. His lips begin to tug up into a mischievous grin, his hand finding solace on the bare skin of your lower back below the water.

"And if I said I want to kiss you?" he asks quietly.

You swallow your nerves, "I'd say I want that too."

James' free hand finds the back of your head in an instant, using the leverage to pull you into him as he laces his fingers through your hair.

Later that night, James is the one who doesn't get much sleep, too giddy over the fact that he finally gets to hold you.

You and Sam had been dating for almost a year, and hadn’t said I love you yet. Your feelings were clear, you knew that you were completely and utterly in love with him. It had been hanging like a weight over your head for the past few days, you just wanted to tell him. But every time you’d seriously considered bringing it up, anxiety had gotten the better of you. Having no idea what he felt was killing you, you only wanted to know if he loved you back. 

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon somewhere outside of Middlebury, Vermont. Without a particular destination in mind, you and Sam were taking a drive in the Impala. Dean had begrudgingly agreed to let the two of you have it for the evening, promising death if either of you scratched her. You’d just laughed and said that you wouldn’t, but- truthfully- you had no idea what was going to happen. 

You weren’t the best driver. Actually, you were pretty terrible, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. You hadn’t ever been taught how to drive, your dad was always out hunting and left you alone most of the time when you were a kid. You’d learned how to pay rent, do laundry and pretty much be self sufficient by the age of 8. You’d started drinking by 13 and hunting by yourself at 15. But the one thing you’d never dared learn was how to drive, it scared you too much. Most of the motels you lived in were right next to highways, and, as a result, you’d seen some pretty heavy stuff. Cars crashing into each other, their tires and structures being twisted at the crudest angles imaginable. You’d seen broken bones and police sirens painting the scenes blue and red since infantry. And, you didn’t know why, but it was what stuck with you. You weren’t scared of monsters, those you knew how to kill, but driving a car? That was something you were convinced you’d never do. By the time you were 16 you still refused to get behind the wheel, and your father was usually too drunk or weary from a case to notice. So it had gone on that way until you were 18, and you finally decided enough was enough. Teaching yourself had been a struggle, mainly because you had to steal and then find new cars when you inevitably crashed them. It had taken almost a year, but eventually you were a passable driver- even if you did get a little freaked out every time you sat behind that wheel. 

The Impala was no exception, even though you’d come to love her nearly as much as Dean over the years you’d known the Winchesters. No, that was a bit of an overstatement, you’d come to love the Impala a healthy amount. Just as much as anybody could love a car; nowhere near Dean’s obsession with the old thing. But, in his defense, she was a pretty fantastic car. 

So when Sam had suggested that you drive, you’d let out a shaky laugh but accepted. He knew you were a little afraid of it all, and always jumped at the opportunity to help you improve. You’d clicked in your seatbelt and double checked the mirrors before hesitantly starting the car. About 20 minutes and an incredibly jerky ride onto the highway later, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence. 

Sam was to your right with his hand resting on your thigh. He was fiddling with the hems of his sleeves and turning to face you, but you weren’t about to have an actual conversation with him. You needed to focus on the road, on the millions of things behind and in front of you. Cars whizzed past your own, weaving inexplicably easily from lane to lane on the highway. But you weren’t, you felt like a freshman on the first day of high school- surrounded by bigger, smarter kids. 

“Hey, where are we going?” Sam asked after ending his mini rant about how unhealthy Dean was eating. In truth, you’d only been half listening and were trying to focus in the road. 

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m, um, kind of hungry?” You said between short bursts of speed, eyes darting from mirror to mirror, road sign to road sign. 

But he didn’t seem to notice your distractedness and pressed on, “Yeah, okay. I saw a little diner on the way here, uh...” His voice trailed off as he searched the open road in front of you, looking for something. 

“Yeah! There it is, just take this next exit on the right.” He pointed to a sign reading rest stop ahead and you jerked the car to where he had pointed. He’d told you seconds after you would have normally taken the turn, and you felt the car veer dangerously to the side. 

Your grip tightened on the wheel as you felt the engine roar somewhere below, praying that you wouldn’t lose control of the Impala. Sam’s hand flew up to the handle on the ceiling, and you quickly apologized for how jarring the turn had been. 

“It’s fine. I should have told you earlier, my bad, babe.” He gave you an encouraging smile and you calmed down as you entered yet another highway. For some reason, the highways had always been the easiest for you to drive on. They were mindless and nearly always straight, save for a few risky turns here and there. You took a breath and loosened your grip on the wheel when entering the lane, no other cars in sight. 

“So, anyways...” Sam launched into some story you weren’t paying attention to, just nodding and agreeing with him absentmindedly. You loved him, but sometimes Sam could be a little clueless. Even though you really wanted to listen and you loved taking to him, you were focusing on the road. So, between mumbles of agreement and small mhm’s, you drove the Impala as best you could. 

But about 5 minutes later, you couldn’t multitask anymore. There were more cars on the road now, within mere minutes the highway had become a jungle. Everywhere you looked you saw flashes of red, silver or blue flying past the windows, traveling well above the speed limit. You were going exactly 55 miles per hour, which was a fast enough pace for you. Sam was still rattling on about Dean, eyes fixed on the road before you and hands moving up and down for emphasis. You really weren’t hearing what he was saying at this point, and had broken into a nervous sweat while your eyes darted around the highway. 

You felt the anxiety building up, bubbling beneath the surface. The tension in your shoulders and back had only gotten worse since you’d taken that god awful turn minutes before. And trying to keep up with Sam had just made you more stressed out. So, with a rush of anger you’d very much regret later on, you snapped, “Sam! I love you but you have to stop-” 

You quickly fell silent, realizing what you’d just said. What you’d just let slip. Oh no oh no oh no oh no, not like this. You couldn’t have just told Sam that you loved him, no you must have imagined it. Maybe some sort of fever dream. Oh my god, what had you done?

Quickly you started stuttering and trying to explain, jumbling your words and basically babbling incoherently, “I, um, I mean, I-I, well, I, uh...” 

You forced your mouth shut and looked over at him, completely mortified. But he was just grinning, ear to ear. That beautifully goofy grin which you loved was written so clearly across his face, and it was enough to calm you down- if only for a moment. 

“You love me?” He uttered into the silence, that beautiful smile of his never faltering. 

“Um, yeah, I love you” You responded, shyly looking down as your face flushed red. 

“I love you too, (Y/N)” 

You nearly crashed the car from surprise. 

“What?” 

“I love you too, (Y/N)” He repeated, dragging out the words and making sure you understood. 

“Really?!” It was your turn to smile now, and a childish grin broke out on your face. You felt giddy, the happiest you’d been in a long time. You felt other-worldly, devoid of all problems in life, and it was incredible. It was almost impossible to sit still in the seat and focus on the road, he loved you. The way he’d said the words, those three beautiful words, you knew they weren’t out of obligation or a spur of the moment decision. His voice was sincere, his eyes stared directly at you, not shying away or blushing as you had. He meant it. He loved you. 

“Yeah, I’m just kind of sad you beat me to it. I wanted to do this big romantic gesture or something for the first time I said it.” He half joked, knowing Sam he probably would have done something incredible. 

“What? Was me snapping at you and saying it accidentally not exactly how you pictured it?” You laughed, feeling it vibrate through your chest. You were happy, so, so, happy. 

“Actually, no, now that I think about it, that was exactly how I thought it would go down.” He smirked over at you, a joke about your quick temper. You’d never exactly been able to, what was it called, hide your emotions. It was a miracle you’d held off on telling Sam you loved him for so long. When you felt something it was big, and bold, and the Winchesters usually knew. Which lead to many heated arguments, but all in good fun. The three of you were family, you and Sam now more than ever.