#samwinchesterfluff

the way you had gotten yourself into this situation was stupid really. it had all started when dean had gotten a call about bobby being in some sort of sleep state he couldn't wake up from. further investigation had lead you to a man named jeremy frost.

you and dean had gone to inquire about the seemingly harmless student. he'd been a test subject for a sleep experiment conducted by a recently deceased doctor at the local college. frost had offered dean a beer, and of course dean accepted. unaware that his dna along with a tea made of something called "african dreamroot" was all frost needed to infiltrate his mind and well. kill him.

this eventually lead to your current predicament.

dean was acting crazy. he hadn't slept in two days in an attempt to avoid being killed by jeremy. but the caffeine could only do so much, and his patience was wearing thin.

you had been asleep in the back of the impala when dean whipped the car into a patch of woods off the highway. "all right. that's it i'm done"

"what are you doing?" sam became flustered. the two of you had already been on edge these past 48 hours. you genuinely thought dean was gonna kill the waitress earlier when he learned they were fresh out of fries.

"taking myself a long-overdue nap" dean layed his head dramatically on the head rest.

"what?" you sat up groggily in the back. rubbing your eyes to look around, you saw nothing but trees.

"dean, jeremy can come after you!" sam looked back to you, sharing a look of awe at dean's sheer stupidity.

"that's the idea" dean's eyes were already shut. you shook your head.

"excuse me?" sam's concern only grew.

"dean quit acting stupid" you were already annoyed at his indifference.

"come on man. we can't find him, so let him come to me." sam scoffed, shaking his head. "on his own turf? where he's basically a god?"

"i can handle it"

"not alone you can't'" sam ripped a piece of dean's hair out of his head, dean winced sitting up. "what are you doing?" he yelled.

"coming in with you" sam spoke sternly. "no you're no- OW!" you had ripped a piece of his hair out as well.

"oh no you are definitely not!" dean turned to point at you.

"yea right i'm not gonna sit here and watch you two sleep"

"i don't want the two of you digging around in my head!"

"too bad" sam said, before the two of you reached for the african dreamroot.

moments later you were being shaken awake by dean.

"Y/N!" he yelled. "i'm up i'm up" you rubbed your eyes. "did it work?" you looked around to find yourselves still in that same patch of grass. the moonlight shined through the branches of the trees.

"i have no idea" sam spoke softly, looking around in search of anything out of place. the three of you sat in silence before you heard it.

a gunshot in the distance.

slowly you guys made your way out of the car, walking in the direction of the noise.

"do you think it could be jeremy?" you walked between the two of them in the dark. "could be anything" sam scanned the night around him. dean began to walk in front of the two of you. "come on let's find this son of a bitch so i can rest peacefully"

suddenly you heard a branch snap somewhere in the gloomy forest. you turned around to study your surroundings. "dean?" a women spoke from behind you. sam scoffed.

"dean i missed you" the voice was familiar. too familiar.

"baby where you been?" nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you turned around.

there stood you. well, a version of you. a version that wore a skin tight black dress that barely covered your ass, accompanied with sheer black tights. you wore black thigh high boots, and a knife in a holster on your thigh.

you raised your eyebrows as your mouth fell open, watching as you walked towards dean. the boys looked her up and down, "was going crazy without you baby" the clone smiled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

dean smiled like an idiot. "i don't know what this is about" he stood in awe as she cradled his face with her hand. you looked to sam who was incredibly amused, covering his mouth to hide his laughter. you shook your head. "follow me" she spoke slowly, biting her lip before grabbing his hand and leading him further into the night.

"i don't know if i wanna" you followed behind, watching as your hips swayed dramatically.

in dean's dream the three of you had been separated, finding jeremy before he inevitably attacked. before you knew it the three of you woke up in the impala again.

"damn it!" dean yelled, frustrated with frost being able to escape yet again.

"we'll get him, we will" sam reassured him. you looked between the two of them. "so we gonna talk about it?" you asked.

"no" dean spoke stiffly, looking at you in the rear view mirror for a millisecond before quickly starting the impala to drive to the nearest motel.

you and sam sat on the edge of the bed, heads moving left to right as the two of you watched dean pace around fervently.

"dean it's really not a big deal" you said, sensing his self-consciousness in the way he hadn't looked you in the eyes since you'd gotten here.

"it's embarrassing!" he shot you a look, before scaring away from the eye contact.

"no it's not! i'm sure i've had dreams about you in" you paused. "weird outfits" you were trying your best to comfort him. he looked up to you with a stupid smirk. "have you?"

"well, not that i can remember" you frowned. he closed his eyes shaking his head in defeat.

"it's fine dean it's really nothing to be embarrassed about" sam said, dean looked at him with an unnerving fierceness in his eyes. "oh yeah sam?" dean walked closer. "nothing to be embarrassed about?" dean quickly ripped a piece of hair out of sam's head. sam winced, rubbing his head and frowned. "ow"

dean took your hand, placing one of the strands he'd retrieved into your palm. "oh come on man-"

"go to sleep! both of you!" dean shouted, sitting on the bed beside the two of you.

"come on is this really necessa-" he cut you off "sleep!" you gave up on protesting, getting up to grab what was left of the dreamroot.

you woke up to the sounds of birds chirping. you covered your eyes blinded by the sun shining in your eyes. looking around you found sam and dean slowly coming to. you were surrounded by green pastures, little white flowers growing from the ground.

"really man? this is your dream?" dean stood up, wiping dirt off of his pants. "don't judge me!" sam said offendedly.

"better than the wet forest" you stood up watching as a blue bird flew from one tree to another.

"freaking fairytale land" dean scoffed.

"sam! sam is that you?"

sam shut his eyes and froze. dean belted out laughing, holding his stomach. "oh my god!"

"shut up" sam muttered.

you watched as a glowing figure dropped down from a horse, approaching the three of you.

"sam?" you squinted at the gleaming figure. when your eyes finally adjusted to the light you couldn't help but smile. there stood yet another version of yourself. only this time you wore a flowing white dress with dainty sleeves longer than your arms, delicate lace details sewn throughout. in your right hand a silver sword.

"well! answer the woman!" dean's whole face was lit up, already forgetting his embarrassment.

sam looked at you, flushing red. "i'm so sorry" you smiled.

"sammy! oh it's really you!" you walked towards him, looking up to him and placing your hand on his cheek. you watched as he tried to fight the urge of melting into her touch. your touch.

he snapped out of it, looking over to dean. "are we done here?"

"I don't know..." dean smirked, before raising his brows to look at you "think we should go into y/n's dreams next"

"hell no"

Sam chuckles, setting the box on the coffee table in front of you. “I figured we could use a break. And hey, it’s festive.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Alright, Winchester. Let’s do this.”

The table is soon transformed into a sugary battleground. The kit includes walls, a roof, frosting in a plastic bag, and an assortment of candies that look slightly questionable but smell undeniably sweet. Sam carefully arranges everything with the precision of someone who has built a thousand IKEA bookshelves while you eye the frosting like a hawk–already scheming. “Okay, we start with the base,” Sam says, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pipes a line of frosting along the edge of the cookie walls. His big hands are surprisingly steady, and you can’t help but admire his focus.

“That’s cute,” you tease, picking up your own piping bag. “But my side is going to blow yours out of the water.”

“Oh, we’re making this a competition now?” Sam raises an eyebrow, his grin growing. “I thought this was supposed to be a team effort.”

“Teamwork is overrated,” you reply, nudging his elbow just enough to make his line of frosting wobble.

“Hey!” he protests, laughing. “You’re going to regret that.”

It starts innocently enough. You’re both diligently working on your respective sides of the gingerbread house, each stealing glances at the other’s progress. Sam’s side is neat, with perfectly aligned gumdrops and a roof that could be in a magazine. Yours… well, it has personality. “Why do you have all the gumdrops?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as Sam sneaks yet another piece of candy onto his side.

“Because I got here first,” he says, popping one into his mouth for good measure.

“That’s cheating,” you declare, grabbing the frosting bag and aiming it at him. Without thinking, you swipe a dollop of frosting across the bridge of his nose. The look of pure shock on his face makes you burst out laughing.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” Sam warns, his voice low and teasing. Before you can react, he dips his finger into the frosting and smears it across your cheek. You gasp, feigning outrage as you grab a handful of flour from the nearby bowl and toss it at him. It’s chaos after that—frosting, flour, and candy flying in every direction. Sam’s laugh is loud and carefree, the kind of sound you don’t hear often enough from him, and it fills the small room like sunlight.

By the time the battle subsides, the table is a disaster. Flour dusts the air, and bits of candy stick to your fingers. The gingerbread house stands in the center, a wobbly, candy-laden masterpiece that looks like it barely survived a storm. You’re both out of breath, sitting side by side on the couch and surveying the mess. “Well,” you say, brushing a streak of frosting from your arm. “It’s not winning any awards, but it’s ours.”

Sam leans forward, inspecting the lopsided roof with a critical eye. “It’s got character,” he agrees, his voice soft. You glance at him, your heart skipping a beat, when you notice the frosting still smeared on his nose. Without thinking, you reach out and wipe it away with your thumb. His green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly quiet.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. Before you can respond, he leans in, closing the space between you. His lips are warm and soft against yours, the kiss slow and sweet, like the moment itself. When he pulls back, his hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray bit of flour.

The air between you shifts, charged with something deeper, something you’ve both been skirting around for weeks. His eyes darken, flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admits, his voice husky.

Your breath hitches, and before you can think, you’re tugging him closer, kissing him with a fervor that surprises even you. His hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap as the kiss deepens, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans softly against your mouth, the sound making your pulse race.

Sam’s hands slide under your sweater, his touch warm against your skin as he trails his fingers up your back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips moving to your neck, kissing and nibbling along your jawline until you’re squirming in his lap.

You tug at his flannel shirt, pushing it off his shoulders to reveal the toned muscles underneath. He’s breathtaking, all broad shoulders and lean strength, and the way he’s looking at you makes your knees weak. “Sam,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as he shifts, laying you down on the couch and settling between your thighs.

He pauses, his hand cupping your cheek as he searches your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle despite the tension in his body.

“Yes,” you breathe, pulling him down for another kiss.

Sam’s lips trail fire down your neck as his hands caress your sides, the warmth of his touch chasing away every thought but him. He shifts his weight, pressing his body against yours, and the heat of him sears through your clothes. Your hands slide over the planes of his shoulders, gripping him as his mouth moves lower, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

The soft glow of the fire bathes the room in flickering light, casting shadows across Sam’s face as he pulls back to look at you. His hair falls slightly into his eyes, his lips swollen, and his chest heaving. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I don’t think I can take my time with you.”

Your fingers skim over his jaw, your thumb tracing the edge of his lips. “Who says I want you to?” you tease, your voice breathy. The words light a spark in him, and he leans down, claiming your lips with renewed intensity.

In one fluid motion, he sits back, lifting you into his arms as though you weigh nothing. You let out a soft laugh of surprise, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he settles over you. The tension between you hums like a live wire, the weight of his body grounding you in the moment.

His hands are sure as they slide beneath your sweater, pushing it up and over your head. You shiver as the cool air brushes your skin, but Sam’s touch is quick to warm you. He leans down, his lips brushing across your shoulder, then lower, kissing along the curve of your breast. Your back arches as his hands explore, every touch sending sparks skittering down your spine.

You tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliges, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Your hands roam over his chest, marveling at the heat and strength of him, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch. Sam groans softly as your fingers trace the lines of his abdomen, his hips pressing against yours in response.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his lips finding yours again. His kiss is fierce, all-consuming, and you lose yourself in the sensation of him. His hands trail down your sides, hooking into the waistband of your pants and tugging them down. You help him, shimmying out of them as he follows with his own, leaving you both bare and vulnerable in the firelight.

Sam pauses, his gaze raking over you as though committing every detail to memory. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice reverent. His words make your heart flutter, but there’s no time to dwell on them as he leans down, his lips brushing over your ear. “Let me show you.”

What follows is a blur of sensation—his lips and hands exploring every inch of you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, the way his body moves with yours in perfect rhythm. The fire crackles in the hearth, the snow falls softly outside, and the world narrows to the heat between you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

Time seems to stand still as you reach the peak together, his name spilling from your lips as he groans yours into your neck. He holds you close, his body trembling slightly as the moment washes over you both. The room is silent except for the sound of your breathing, the fire casting a warm glow over the two of you.

Sam rolls onto his side, pulling you into his arms. His hand brushes your hair back from your face, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I think we make a damn good team,” he murmurs, his voice low and content.

You smile, resting your head against his chest. “Only when you don’t steal all the gumdrops,” you reply, your tone teasing but affectionate.

He chuckles, his laugh rumbling against your cheek. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll share.” His arms tighten around you, and you let yourself relax into his embrace, the warmth of him and the fire lulling you into a blissful haze.

The snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the world in quiet, but inside the inn, the earlier chaos has given way to something softer, deeper, and undeniably real. For now, the case and the danger can wait. Tonight, it’s just you and Sam, and that’s more than enough.

You figured a bathroom trip would help. Maybe you were just gassy from all that questionable food you ate on the last trip. Or maybe it was food poisoning from the same culprit. You were thinking it was the later by the time you had sat down to do your business.

You hadn’t even had a chance to wash your hands after finishing up. You were headed there, eyes shut tight and mouth closed, biting down on the inside of your cheek, when you could feel what little was left in your stomach coming up.

You dropped to the floor, squatting in front of the toilet as your stomach expelled it’s contents once more, or what was left of them anyway. By the third heave, you were throwing up nothing but acid and air and neither felt good coming up.

A shiver ran through your body and soon enough, you were freezing cold in the t-shirt and leggings you had worn to bed. “A fever, great,” you mused, resting your hot head against your cool arm.

When you were sure it was over, and actually sure, you stood up, flushing the toilet and grabbing a rag from the cabinet. You ran the rag under warm water before rubbing it across your face, ridding yourself of the sweat and tears you’d produced from vomiting. You rinsed it out, then soaked it in cold water and laid it on the back of your neck.

With the rag still resting on your neck, you drug yourself back to your room, instantly collapsing into the full sized bed and curling up underneath the heap of blankets. Your shaky hands reached for your phone next to your table, checking the time. Seven a.m. No one should be awake at this time, not when it’s their day off and they want to relax. No one should be awake at this time, but you knew someone who was.

“Sam I’m dying please help,” you sent the text without thinking too much about it. Though, you realized you should’ve given it more thought when the 6’4 man burst through your door, gun held tight in his hands and shouting “where is it! I swear to god I’ll kill the son of a bitch!”

He lowered his gun seeing you curled up under the pile of blankets, and tucked it back into his jeans. “Y/N what’s going on? Are you hurt?” He moved to sit beside your bed, placing one large hand to your cheek. “You’re warm.”

“I’m sick,” you admitted, trying to shoo his hand away. “I dunno, it’s probably food poisoning. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted that crap gas station food.”

“Uh, two things,” he began, “You don’t get fevers with food poisoning and if it was food poisoning, Dean and I would be sick too. I think you’ve got a stomach bug, kiddo,” he soothed, his hand brushing back your sweaty locks.

“‘M not a kiddo,” you mumbled, pushing his hand away once again. “I’m only four months younger than you.”

He let out a lighthearted chuckle, moving his hands away. “Can I get you anything? Tylenol? Pepto Bismol? Some water?”

“Water would be lovely please and thank you.”

“Okay. You want anything to eat?” You grimaced at his question, feeling your stomach churn and face drain of color. “Or not. Just the water. I’ll be back.”

Sam sat on the side of your bed as you sipped the water. He simply waited until you were done and when you were he placed the cup on you nightstand. “Can I get you anything else?”

You shook your head, the action making you slightly dizzy. “I think i’m just gonna try to get some more sleep.”

“Were you up all night with this?” He asked, his hand brushing gently through your hair.

“Since about three this morning, yeah. I didn’t actually get sick until now though,” you informed him. “Hey actually, could you do one more thing?” When he gave a confirming nod, you continued, “will you put my hair up? I don’t know if i’m gonna throw up again but I don’t want my hair in the way if I do.”

“Sure darling.” Sam scooted behind you, letting you rest against his chest as he gathered your hair into a messy bun, securing it all with a hair tie. “Good?”

You nodded, the bun moving slightly on your head. “Perfect. Thanks Sam.”

“If you need anything else, I’m in the library. I’ll keep my phone close by. Get some rest.”

“I will do just that,” you hummed, already settling in for a nap.

“So much for a nap,” you thought when you woke up at 8:15. You were hoping to get three or four hours in but instead you barely got one.

You decided that getting up and trying to walk around would be the best idea but you could barely make it to the bedroom door before your stomach started to protest against going anywhere but the bathroom.

It wasn’t long before you were throwing up again. Acid and air, mostly, but you thought that was worse than actual food. It all sucked though and you were hoping this was just a 24 hour thing.

You were finally done and getting ready to leave when you felt a cool rag against your neck, sighing at the feeling. You hadn’t even realized Sam had come in until he was standing right beside you.

“I was passing by to check on you and heard you. Here, come here.” He pulled you up slowly, supporting most of your weight as he washed your face off quickly and returned the rag to your neck. “Better?”

You nodded, swallowing down the minor wave of nausea that had come again. “A little,” you told him.

He helped you back into bed, pulling the covers around you loosely. “Want some more water?” He asked, grabbing the empty cup.

“Will you bring me some toast or applesauce or something too?”

“You bet,” he grinned.

It had only been half a minute or so before he was returning to your room, a big tumbler cup filled with ice water in one hand and a packet of applesauce and a spoon in another. “Feelin’ any better?” he asked, handing you the cup and sitting on the edge of your bed again. He began to open the packet of applesauce, sticking the spoon inside and waiting to trade you - the water for the applesauce.

“Not exactly,” you said, taking another little sip before handing him the cup back.

“I sent Dean off to the store. He’s going to pick up some Gatorade and some more applesauce for you. Oh, and Lysol. He said he was going to get Lysol too,” Sam chuckled, trading you once again when you motioned for the cup back.

You swallowed the sip and let out a little sigh, “might as well. I really hope neither of you catch this.”

“I’m sure we could handle it if we did,” he shrugged. “I mean, you’re handling it like a rock star, and if Dean or I get knocked down by the flu and you don’t, that’s really saying something,” he teased.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, taking the applesauce back from him.

Sam placed his hand to your head again, this time smiling a bit. “You’re not warm anymore. You feel feverish at all?” You shook your head at his question and traded him one last time: your now empty applesauce packet for the cup of water. “Need anything else?”

“To feel better,” you joked, producing a small smile, which caused Sam to smile too.

“I’m trying,” he chuckled halfheartedly. “I’m gonna work out. I’ll have my phone with me so don’t hesitate to text or call, alright?”

“Okie dokie,” you hummed, settling back down in bed. You felt Sam’s lips on your forehead, making your cheeks burn. He had never done that before. He’d hug you a lot, big squishy bear hugs that ended in you being spun around before being set down, but he’d never kissed you. You passed it off as Sam feeling sorry for you. You were just friends anyway and you knew that it could be a friendly gesture too. You didn’t have time to question it much before your eyes grew heavy and you fell into a semi-peaceful sleep.

You had woken up fully by about noon, just in time for Sam to walk in to check on you.

“He sleepy head,” he whispered coming forward to sit on your bed. “Need anything? Dean’s back with some Gatorade and ginger ale if you want that.”

“I think I’m gonna take a bath, maybe see if that’ll help settle my stomach.” You could remember doing that as a kid and it always seemed to make you feel better even if just for an hour.

You pushed yourself up slowly, reminding yourself to relax and breathe and not jar your stomach too much. Sam helped you to stand and while you headed for the bathroom, he collected your water and phone for you, meeting you there and helping you get settled by turning the water on for you and grabbing you a towel.

“I’ll be in my room just down the hall. Holler if you need anything. And I brought your phone if you need to text me. And some water, in case you get sick again.”

“Thank you, Sam,” you hummed, shutting the door behind him.

Once out of your clothes, you settled into the ever rising bath water. The warm feeling washed over you quickly and you were beginning to relax and let your stomach calm down. You didn’t wash anything, just simply lay there. You’d be sure to take a shower once you were feeling better.

You lay there for close to 45 minutes before the water turned cold and you turned to a prune. You eased yourself out of the tub, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself. Unfortunately, you were not in the clear as the nausea set in again and you were doubled over the toilet, heaving up what you had just eaten.

It took you a few minutes to calm down but once you had you made slow work in getting back into your pajamas. You stood up again, hanging your towel on the hook when your vision began to go spotty.

You slid down the wall, realizing that you were lacking a lot of fluids. You had just thrown up the sips of water and the applesauce you had, which meant you were back to having nothing in your stomach. You took a long drink from the tumbler before yelling for Sam.

“I’m decent,” you said when he had knocked on the door and poked his head in with his eyes closed tight. “Even if I wasn’t I’m not sure how or why you’d want me right now,” you mumbled mostly to yourself.

“Because you’re beautiful either way.” Obviously your last comment was not as too yourself as you hoped, but Sam’s reply did make you smile a bit. “What’s up? Did you get sick again?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t the reason you needed him in here. “Will you help me to my room?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, “is everything okay?”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” you informed him, hanging your head between your knees like you had been taught to do if you ever got that feeling.

“Hey, okay,” he soothed, kneeling in front of you. “Let’s not get up then. Let’s hang out here for a minute and let your body fix itself.” Sam reached for your water, positioning the straw in front of your mouth. “Take some drinks, relax, breathe,” he reminded you.

Sam sat with you for a few minutes, his hand gently rubbing your back and arms. You weren’t even sure how long you had been sitting there but you could’ve dozed off had Sam not spoke up. “You look like you’re gaining color back,” he commented. “Ready to stand up?”

You nodded, letting Sam take most of your weight as he helped you up. Unfortunately, even with Sam supporting your weight, you still felt faint. “I gotta sit back down,” you sighed, tightening your grip on him to keep yourself from swaying.

Sam began to worry. He wondered if he should take you to the hospital. Usually after some water most people were okay to get up again, but with you swaying in his arms, he panicked. “Hey, okay. Just hang in there. I’m gonna get you back to your room, alright?”

“S-Sam I won’t be able to make it. Just let me sit down a minute,” you pleaded.

“Just… hold on, Y/N, okay? I’m going to pick you up but I need you to hold on,” he asked gently. He set your water cup down, then easily scooped you up into his arms. “I got you. Just hold on,” he whispered, one hand grabbing the water and the other shutting off the bathroom light.

Sam gently laid you on your bed, tucking you under the duvet. “Wait here,” he commanded. Like you were really going to get up anyway. You weren’t even sure you could get up without falling back over.

You heard Sam yell to Dean, and then there were two sets of very quick footsteps. From there, it was a blur, but suddenly you could feel a cold wetness against your forehead. “You feel sleepy, Y/N?” Sam asked, and you could tell he was right beside you, dragging what you assumed was a washcloth over your face. You nodded, your throat suddenly feeling dry and cottony. “Dean’s gonna bring you some Gatorade, okay?”

“I don’t feel well,” you told him, straining to open your eyes. You had been thrown into walls and glass. You’ve been cut and stitched up and had dislocated shoulders and twisted or sprained ankles and nothing was as bad as this.

“I know,” he shushed, “just try and relax.”

Before you knew it, a straw was being pressed to your lips and Sam was urging you to sip from it. He held what you could only assume was the bottle of Gatorade and still drug the wet rag across your forehead and down your cheeks.

“She okay?” you heard Dean ask, much further away from Sam, so you guessed that he was by the door.

“I think so. It’s just the flu, it’ll be over before you know it.” You weren’t sure if Sam was saying that to reassure you, Dean, or himself, but it was comforting.

“Well, don’t you get sick too. I ain’t babying you,” Dean huffed, and you could almost hear the smile on his face. “I’m in my bedroom if you need me.”

Sam thanked Dean and pretty soon you could hear his heavy footsteps heading further and further away.

“Feeling any better?” Sam asked, and you nodded in response. “Still tired?” another nod. “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he hummed. “Gatorade and water are on the bedside table, and if you need anything else just yell, okay?”

You felt the bed shift as he got up and you quickly grabbed onto his wrist, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Will you stay with me?” You asked. “I don’t want to get you sick, but will you just sit here with me… incase something happens?”

“Sure,” he happily stated. “Do you want me to lay down with you?”

“I don’t want to get you sick,” you admitted shyly, but the truth was, yes, you wanted him to lay down with you and hold you and just somehow make you feel better by being with you.

“That’s not what I asked, darlin’,” he chuckled. “Do you want me to lay down with you?”

You nodded your head bashfully, “yes, please.”

Sam was in your bed just moments later. He shifted quite a bit to get comfortable, then waited for you to shift as well. Eventually, you rested with your head on his chest and his arm around you. One of his hands was resting on your hip, while the other was gently stroking the now damp rag over your forehead and cheeks again. Soon, the washcloth was rested against your forehead and his hands locked over your waist, holding you tightly to him.

You woke up hours later with your head still plastered against Sam’s chest. His arms were still locked around you and he was peacefully sleeping underneath you. His chest rose and fell with his steady breaths, and every so often you’d hear an almost inaudible snore leave his lips.

You shifted, trying to ease yourself out of the giant man’s arms, but, the slightest movement woke him. Hunter trait. “Y/N?” he hummed, peeking his eyes open and looking down at you. “Hey. You okay?”

You nodded, shifting again and bringing your hands up to rub your eyes. “What time is it?”

Sam hummed, shifting from underneath you to grab his phone. “Little after eight. You feel okay?” He asked turning back to you and slinging his arms over you again.

“‘M kinda hungry…” you mentioned, looking up at him.

Sam smiled a bit and nodded. He removed his arms from around you then stretched them over his head, groaning as he did. “What d’you want to eat?” He rolled off of your bed to be standing beside it, running his fingers through his tussled hair.

You slowly sat yourself up, stretching your arms and legs out. You moaned, twisting to the side and feeling your sore stomach muscles. You knew they hurt from how much heaving you did earlier.

“You alright?” Sam asked quickly as he heard you moan, coming by your side in an instant.

“My sides hurt,” you said with a low chuckle, cringing at the pain again.

“Mmh. Yeah you were heaving pretty hard,” Sam teased, chuckling himself. “I’ll get you a heating pad and… how do you feel about chicken noodle soup?”

“Both sound wonderful, Sam.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey wait,” you spoke up as Sam was nearing the door. “I’m gonna come with you.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed, pushing yourself up slowly.

Sam walked back to you, holding you steady as you stood. “You sure? I don’t want you to almost pass out again.”

You smiled a bit, holding onto his outstretched hand for support. “I feel fine. I just wanna walk around a bit. I haven’t left my bed unless it was to puke and i’m getting antsy.”

Sam walked you at a slow pace to the kitchen. You were feeling significantly better, just starving and your stomach was making that well known with its growls. Every time it did, Sam would chuckle, which would make you giggle too and then moan at the aching pain in your sides.

You sat down at the table, per Sam’s request, and watched as he moved around the room, pouring the canned soup in a pan and then setting it on the burner before sitting across from you.

“You look much better. You scared me…” he paused, “a-and Dean. Me and Dean,” he corrected himself. “I was worried we might’ve had to take you to the hospital.”

Hesitantly, you leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered. You weren’t sure if you’d still be functioning right now had he not kept up with you and did his best to make you feel better.

Sam’s cheeks reddened and he bowed his head to hide the blush. “Yeah.” He drug a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head nervously. “All I expect is that you’ll take care of me if I end up getting what you had.”

“I promise. But I don’t think I’ll be able to lift you from the floor if you almost pass out,” you chuckled, hands flying to your sides.

Lucky for you both, Sam didn’t end up getting what you had. Dean, however, did and you never heard the end of it.

You had all morning to spend with Sam and after you were heading to your dad's house for dinner and presents with your family. You and Sam had skipped the whole “let's not get each other a gift”  discussion, knowing you’d break that agreement anyway. You did agree though that nothing could exceed 50 dollars. It gave you a good price range and you knew you could get multiple gifts without going over that amount.

Sam stirred beside you, stretching his arm over your side to hook around your back and pull you closer to him, soaking in the warmth of your body. “Merry Christmas Eve, Y/N,” he whispered sleepily.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Sam,” you replied brushing your nose against his in hopes to wake him up a bit more, but if anything, it only seemed to make him more tired.

You were very close to falling asleep again when Sam broke the silence. “Thank you for staying over. I’m sure by Sunday night we’ll be sick of each other.”

“Never,” you confessed, “I'm very happy to be spending these next two days with you.”

“Mmh. Me too,” he agreed and it wasn't long after that comment that you were drifting off again with Sam following short behind.

Sam had hung his mistletoe in the doorway of his room and he didn’t hesitate to pull you in for a kiss when you finally drug yourselves out of bed at nearly two in the afternoon. You weren't sleeping they entire time, just relaxing with each other and talking, enjoying it being just the two of you for the time being.

Sam made pancakes while you showered and got ready for the day, you ate together at his table, enjoying the calm and quiet of each other's company. When Sam went up to shower, you cleaned the dishes and when he was done, it was just about time to head out for a celebration with your family.

“Auntie Y/N!” You nephew yelled as he sprinted to the door, barreling right into your legs. “Merry Cwismas!”

“Merry Christmas Bryce,” you sang, lifting him onto your hip.

“Sam!” He yelled, noticing the man who had followed you in. “Gracie! Unca Sammy is here with Auntie Y/N!”

Right on cue, the toddler came running to the front door, requesting to be held the second she saw Sam. You were so happy that your family had taken well to Sam, and not just the little ones.

Your brother was first to step into the living room from his space in the kitchen, greeting you with a hug and one for Sam as well. “Merry Christmas,” he spoke.

“Merry Christmas,” the two of you told him, following him into the kitchen where you were greeted by your dad and Ava.

You set your bag on the table as you took a seat on the chair with Bryce still in your lap. Sam sat beside you and Gracie situated herself on Sam’s lap, making herself comfortable and making you and Sam both chuckle.

“Dada and Grampa are makin’ ham,” Bryce announced, “and botatoes, and salad.” You grinned at the face the four-year-old made when it came to the word salad.

“Sounds delicious.” You smiled down at your nephew, pushing his long locks away from his eyes. “Are you excited for Santa to come tonight?”

“Yes!” He beamed, staring at you with wide eyes. “Gracie and I have been really really good this year, huh mommy?” He turned to his mother then, looking at her with the same big eyes he stared at you with. You knew he got that look from his father, a trait that he taught himself when he was about Bryce’s age.

“Very good,” Ava confirmed, nodding to you.

“Oh good! You know Santa once gave your daddy coal,” you teased.

“Hey, quit tellin’ my kid lies!” Jake warned, waving a spoon in your direction. “It was your Auntie Y/N who got coal, not me.”

Sam gasped and you turned to him and rolled your eyes. “It was Jake-”

“It was not! Dad, who got coal me or Y/N?” The two of you sounded like kids again, arguing over just about everything: who got the last bit of cereal, who got the toy in the Cracker Jack, who's turn it was to do dishes…

“You both did. Santa hung it on Jake’s stocking, but I remember the note saying it was for both of you,” your dad piped in to calm the storm that was your arguing. He was best at that, growing up, Dad’s specialty was making sure you and Jake didn’t kill each other.

Jake scoffed, turning his attention back to salad he was currently working on throwing together. With a bit of a victorious smirk, even though the coal was for both of you, you turned your attention back to your niece and nephew.

“Gracie, are you excited for santa to come?” you heard Sam ask the little girl.

She nodded her head, blonde curls bouncing in excitement. “Awe you esited for Sana ta come?”

“Of course I’m excited for Santa to come!” Sam responded, “You think I’ve been good this year?” he asked Gracie, who nodded again.

“Etsept, you stolded Auntie’s heart. Steawing is mean.”

The whole room erupted into laughter at little Gracie’s comment. A blush rose on your cheeks too, as you were sure she remembered hearing that from her father when you last saw them. At least she knew that stealing was wrong, that was all that really mattered.

Sam cleared his throat, settling the room down before speaking, “this is one case where stealing isn’t bad. If I stole her heart, it means she really likes me. And I really like her. She stole my heart too,” he clarified, making your cheeks darken in color still.

“Oh,” she noted.

Bryce cocked his head in confusion, looking between you and Sam, “Does that mean you traded hearts?”

You laughed, shaking your head. You shot a quick ‘see what you started’ look to your brother before turning to face Bryce. “No sweetie. It’s just a saying for when you really like someone. He didn’t actually take my heart and I didn’t take his.”

There was no more talk about you and Sam’s love life after dinner. The kids had become so distracted with eating that there wasn’t much time for talking, at least, not unless their mouths were full and it was about how excited they were for santa and presents and snow.

Before you even knew it, the sun had gone down and you were settling down in the living room for another family tradition, watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas on Christmas Eve. Gracie had conked out just minutes into the short movie, but Bryce held through the entire thing.

“Should we wake Gracie up for presents?” you asked, remembering the bag you had set by the table earlier that held the presents you and Sam would be giving to the kids. Of course, you had included one for Jake and Ava and for your dad too, but most of it was for the kids.

Bryce couldn’t contain his excitement at the mention of presents, quickly hopping off the couch and sprinting to the kitchen to grab your bag. You, Jake and Sam all worked to wake the sleeping toddler, who really was less than excited about being up so late, but when Bryce came back with the presents and you told little Gracie you wanted her to open her gifts, she was more than happy to deal with being woken up.

You watched the two tore into their gifts. If you didn’t know any better you’d say they were more excited to rip the paper off than to actually get the gift. They made a mess, that was one thing you were sure of.

Sam had gotten the two of them books. You told him they loved reading, and he was more than happy to pick up some children’s books for them. Bryce had been really into sports lately, so you got him a plastic t-ball set, which he was ecstatic about. You got Gracie an art set, as she had become obsessed with drawing and painting. You also got each of the kids their own little bag of chocolates, not that they needed it but who could resist christmas candy?

You got your dad a book, one that he’d been talking about for quite some time now. He still gave you the spiel on how you didn’t have to get him anything, but graciously accepted the gift anyway.

Of course, you couldn’t get away without receiving some gifts of your own. You dad had given you some movies you’d been wanting to see, and gave Sam a six pack of his homebrewed beer. He also gave you two some money for a date night, which you knew would be put to good use, as Sam was already planning some winter themed dates.

You decided to head out shortly after, wanting to beat the storm that was supposed to come in that night. After goodbyes were said, you headed out to Sam’s truck, realizing that you hadn’t quite missed the storm. The snow was falling heavily outside, already sticking to the ground.

“At least it’ll be a white Christmas,” you giggled, blowing on your cold hands as you hopped into Sam’s even colder truck.

“That means Mom’s gonna make Dean and me shovel first thing in the morning,” he groaned, though he was just as happy about the snow as you were.

When you got to the Winchester’s house, the lights were still on, and everyone seemed to still be awake. It surprised you at first, realizing that it was nearing ten o’clock, but it was Christmas Eve and you were sure they were waiting up to make sure you and Sam made it there safely.

Sam grabbed your hand, helping you out of his truck as you arrived. The ground was wet and slippery, and you had a death latch on Sam’s arm as you made your way up the tiny hill to the front door.

Sam, with full knowledge that everyone was still awake, walked inside, announcing his and your presence. You found the family in the living room, gathered around the TV and watching was looked to be The Polar Express.

“Just in time,” Mary announced, turning the volume down on the movie that was playing. She crossed the room, pulling her youngest son into a hug first and then giving you one as well. “We’re so happy to have you here for Christmas, Y/N,” she told you, and you could tell that she meant it.

“Can we do the present now?” Dean asked, sounding like a little kid who so desperately wanted to look at his presents.

“Present?” You inquired. Sam had said nothing about presents.

Sam put his hand on your lower back, pushing you further into the main room. “Every year, mom and dad give us a Christmas Eve box. It’s nothing big, just something special for the night before Christmas.”

“Don’t worry,” Mary assured, “there is a box for you too.”

You sat down with Sam in front of the tree, the three of you forming a little half circle. Mary handed you each a box, about the size of a shoebox. Dean and Sam both opened theirs quickly, and from the looks of it, each box was roughly the same, with a few minor differences. In yours were christmas themed pajamas, some cookie mix in a jar, a few packets of hot chocolate, popcorn, and an ornament. “Thank you, Mary,” you grinned, standing up to hug her.

“We have to wear these tonight you know,” Sam chuckled, already pulling his pajamas out of his box.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else!” You laughed.

You headed for the bathroom as Sam and Dean headed for their bedroom’s to change. You couldn’t help but laugh at the pajamas. It was a red onesie, zipping up in the front with a little bear claw on the chest pocket, but the back of it was a button velcro flap on the butt, that read “bear bottom” on it.

You giggled, emerging from the bathroom at the same time Sam and Dean came out of their bedrooms. Dean was in a blue onesie, similar to yours, but his read “tail end” on the back and had a hoofprint on the front. Sam had a moose hoofprint on his front and the back of his read “moose caboose.”

The giggles and chuckles continued all the way down the stairs, mostly at each other, but the good thing was that you could all laugh at yourselves too. Mary and John joined in upon seeing the pajamas they had purchased. Mary even commented saying, “best Christmas present yet,” which had the laughter growing louder.

Once pictures were taken, and everyone had dried their tears from laughter, you all decided to turn in for the night, but not before Mary gave you a rundown of the bedroom rules. “We won’t spy on you and I don’t care if you kiss and cuddle, but there will be absolutely no sex in this house from you two,” she warned, which made you blush because truthfully, you hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “The door cannot be shut all the way and the nightlight in the hall needs to stay on. If you get cold, there are extra blankets in the hall closet and the bathroom is right beside it. Good?”

“Good,” you nodded, partially intimidated by the rules, but you had no reason to be. The most you have done, or would do with Sam at this point was kissing. You were happy that Mary was letting you two sleep in the same room in the first place.

“Understood. Goodnight, mom.” Sam leaned forward, wrapping his mother into a tight hug. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early, Samuel. The walks are going to be bad.”

“Goodnight, Mary.” You took your turn in hugging her. “And thank you for the pajamas. They’re very comfortable.” You shared a laugh, before she was returning your goodnights and headed down to her own room to sleep.

It took a minute to get comfortable. Sam’s childhood bed was much different than the one at his place, or yours. It was smaller, not as soft and you were surprised it fit the two of you, but soon enough you found yourself wrapped around each other, right in the middle of the bed, with just enough wiggle room on each side - there was more on Sam’s, but you had the wall, so you weren’t complaining.

Sam’s fingers gently brushed up and down your arm, soothing you and himself. It was quiet for quite some time before Sam let out a low chuckle. You heard it rumble in his chest, then exhale past his lips and when it did, you turned your face up to his. “What?”

“I’ve never had a girl in this bed before,” he chuckled again, his cheeks reddening at his own statement. You couldn’t help but blush too. Surely, he had brought girls home to meet his parents, and surely he had brought girls home to his own home before, but something about being the only girl to ever sleep in this bed with him, was special.

“Never?” You challenged. You wanted to know more and hopefully he was comfortable with sharing more. You wondered if he had indeed brought a girl here to stay the night but she slept in a spare room or on the couch. You were curious, especially now that he had opened up the floor to questions with his statement.

Sam shook his head, well prepared to give an answer, almost like he knew you would ask. “Never. Not even Jessica. She used to stay over really late, especially when we were off for the breaks, but she always said she felt uncomfortable sleeping next to me when my family was just down the hall. Mom’s always been okay with her staying, and gave me and Jess the same rules she just gave you and I but Jess never wanted to,” he paused, clearing his throat, “we didn't even spend Christmas together ‘til our last one. She was usually with her parents and I was with mine. We didn't do presents on Christmas day; it would usually be the day after, or whenever I saw her next.”

You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him when you spoke, “I’m very happy to be spending Christmas with you.”

Sam smiled, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Me too,” another kiss. “So can I ask, what about you and Corbin, did you two spend every Christmas together?”

“Pretty much,” you nodded, “our first Christmas we spent together we were in our own house, so we invited both our families over for dinner that night. That ended up just being what we did every year. We did gifts, hung out with our families and then the night was over.”

“Well, I’m glad we get to do something christmasy with both our families, together. Spending the afternoon with your family was a lot of fun, and I’m glad you’re here tonight and you’ll be here tomorrow for Christmas with my family. Though, with all the time I’ve spent with you, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go come Sunday night.” He nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head as his arms tightened around your waist.

You giggled, feeling the slight scruff on his cheeks brush against your hair. “Duty calls, Sam. It’s just something you’re going to have to deal with, y’know dating a doctor and all,” you bragged.

“As long as I get to tell everyone I’m dating a hot doctor, I guess I’m okay with it,” he yawned, “besides, those babies need you more than I do.”

“Goodnight, Sam,” you hummed, resting your ear against his chest, hearing the faint beat of his heart as the two of you drifted off.

You woke up to the smell of coffee and a cold bed on Christmas morning. The sheets were neatly tucked around you, but the warm figure you had been curled up against all night long was no longer there. Instead, the side of the bed was cold, like he had been gone for a little while now.

Pulling yourself out of the warm covers, you quickly picked up your phone from the nightstand. It was just about 8 o’clock, and you figured Sam was already downstairs with his family. You were a little embarrassed, as you padded down the stairs, though when you entered the living room, it was empty, save for the tree and the gifts that were scattered underneath it.

Your nose led you to the kitchen, where Mary Winchester was standing next to the stove, a pot of coffee brewing beside her. “Good morning,” you spoke, hoping not to startle the older woman.

“Morning, Y/N. Sam and John are outside shoveling. Coffee?” she asked, but before you could answer she was turning around and placing a warm cup in your hands. “Sam made it earlier for you and asked me to keep it warm. I just reheated it, so it should be nice and hot.”

“Thank you,” you responded, taking a sip of the warm beverage, made just how you like it with a bit of cream and sugar. “I’ll be sure to thank Sam later as well. Where’s Dean at?” you asked, realizing she had yet to mention her oldest son.

“Presumably, asleep. If that boy has a day off, he likes to sleep in. I’m surprised Sam’s not still asleep too, or at least still in bed with you,” Mary answered, coming around to sit with you at the table.

“He was pretty set on helping John this morning, especially after you warned him last night that he’d have to shovel.”

Mary laughed, sipping from her own cup of coffee. “At least he listens, right?” You giggled, agreeing with her. “Would you like some kringle? There’s kringle on the counter, if you’re hungry,” she offered.

“I’ve never had kringle before, so I promised Sam he could be around when I tried some for the first time. And, as hungry as I am, I’ll just wait until they’re done,” you assured. You wanted to keep your promise to Sam, and hopefully the kringle would be as good as he had made it seem to be. You didn’t want to try it just to not like it.

“They should be in soon. They started around 7:30, and it’s not that big of a driveway, or sidewalk.”

As if they had been by the door, waiting, the two men walked in, red faced and breathing heavy. “Speak of the devils,” you chuckled, taking in Sam’s appearance as he began stripping out of his jacket and gloves and boots.

“Good morning,” Sam grinned, making his way to you and planting a chastile kiss to your lips. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, but you were quick to pull away from the cold touch.

“Your hands are like ice,” you commented.

Sam huffed out a laugh, nodding, “I know! I was outside shoveling, thank you very much.” Sam reached over you and snatched up your coffee cup, cupping his hands around the warm mug before taking a drink.

“Hey! That was mine, thank you very much!” you mocked, trying to reach up for it, but his height got the best of you.

“I made it,” he retorted, taking one more drink before setting it down. “Thank you, very much.” This time he sounded sincere, like he was actually thanking you for sharing - against your will, you might add.

“You two bicker like an old married couple,” a grumpy Dean sounded from the doorway, clothed in his pajamas from last night and a green robe. “Oooh, kringle!” His bitterness was over as he went straight for the pastry and started pile piece after piece into his hands.

“Wait!” Sam interrupted, “save some for Y/N, she’s never even had kringle before!”

“Never had kringle? Well, what’re you waiting for, eat!” Dean placed a rather large piece in front of you, finding himself a seat at the table to enjoy his own pieces.

Sam let go of your shoulders, “no, not yet! I need my camera!” You groaned and rolled your eyes. Obviously whatever this dessert treat was, it was a big deal to have your first bite.

And it was no wonder they were making a big deal out of it, because when you took your first bite, you realized why. The almond filling, plus the icing on top all threaded together with the pastry dough was heaven in your mouth. You were now seeing why Dean piled his hand high with the sweet treat. You gave Sam a thumbs up, with your mouth still full, trying not to laugh when Sam took a picture of you like that.

Presents were next. You all had moved into the living room with your respective cups of coffee and gathered around the tree. John had turned the tv on, noticing that A Christmas Story was just starting. “Another Winchester family tradition is to watch this movie while opening presents,” Sam informed you.

You, Sam, and Dean separated the presents into their respective piles. One for John, one for Mary, one for Sam, one for Dean and one for you.

“Go ahead, open ‘em up,” Mary announced, and you watched as Sam and Dean both picked up a present, reading off who it was from before tearing into the paper. “You too, Y/N,” she nudged, and you nodded, grabbing one of your presents too to open.

Mary had gotten you a few clothes - you assumed Sam had let her know what size you wore - as well as a new planner for the next year, something you had mentioned to Sam you wanted, and were very happy to receive from his mom. John had got some pens and paper clips to go with the journal. He was unsure what to get you, so besides the pens, he got you a gift card to your favorite store, and you were more than happy with just that. As a joke, Dean had given you a new stethoscope, but you informed him you had been needing a new one, and he was very pleased with himself for getting it. “Santa” had gotten each of you a new calendar, as well as some chocolate to eat.

You were most excited for Sam’s gifts though, but that was a bit of a given. With five gifts total, he reminded you that he didn’t go over 50 dollars when you became a bit suspicious. The first gift you opened was some fruit flavored chewy candy, something sugary that you could eat to stay up during your long days. He got you a wintery scented candle to go with the throw blanket and book he got you as well. The last thing Sam got you was a necklace, a stereotypical romantic gift, but you loved it. It was a small gold leaf, with a pearl attached to a gold chain. It wasn’t hard to realize why he had bought it; Autumn was what brought you two together.

“Thank you, Sam,” you gushed, leaning forward to kiss him quickly. “I love them.”

You had gotten Mary some new hand towels and some lotion she had once mentioned was her favorite. You gave John some of your fathers homebrewed beer and a beer glass to go with it. Not too soon after, John was putting a bottle in the fridge, letting you know he’d be drinking it later. Dean received a bottle of his favorite whiskey from you, and the both of you thanked Sam for helping you pick that out for him.

You waited eagerly as Sam opened his presents from you. You felt a bit bad, having only gotten him three things. The first was a new case for his laptop, as he mentioned needed one. His old one was starting to tear, and the zipper on it had broken too. You bought him another SD card for his camera, this one less gigabytes than his other, but it still gave him two instead of just one. The last thing you got him was a bit cheesy, but you thought it was cute. It was a jar filled with chocolate kisses and under the lid you had written, “kisses for when I’m not around.” His face reddened and he smiled at that one. “Well, since you are around,” he began and then leaned over to kiss you. “Thank you, baby.”

Night came sooner than you hoped, and you did have to go back to work at 11. You ate a simple dinner with Sam’s family and thanked them one last time for the wonderful Christmas, before he was driving you to your apartment.

After spending the last two days with him, you really did not want to tell him goodbye. It was the best Christmas Eve and Christmas you had ever had, or at least the best you’d had in years. You invited Sam in, though it was nearing 9:30 and you really needed to shower and get yourself ready to go.

You drug out the final goodbye for twenty minutes before he announced that he really should let you get ready. With a sad laugh, you agreed. “Thank you for a wonderful Christmas. I was very happy to spend it with you and your family,” you said, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“And thank you for a wonderful Christmas Eve. I’m glad you could stay the night and I’m glad we could spend some time with your family as well. Those kids are just darling, and I was happy to get to see your brother and dad again.”

You stood on your toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. You listened to him chuckle shortly after you had pulled away. “God, and I was so sure you’d be sick of me by now,” you mentioned.

“No,” Sam breathed, shaking his head, “if anything, I’m more in love with you now than before.” Without realizing it, Sam had just admitted to you that he loved you. It didn’t register until he caught a glimpse of your face: shocked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your mouth slightly agape. “Y/N… sh-shit, I didn’t… I mean, I did, I do mean that, I just- I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have said it yet, I’m s-”

“Wait,” you interrupted, noticing that he was trying to pull himself away from you. His cheeks were flushed, though the rest of his face was pale. “S-Sam, I… I love you too, you just caught me off guard.”

“Really?” His face began to regain color with your confession. “You’re not just saying that because I said it first, right?”

“N-No!” you stammered, “Not at all. Sam, I really do love you, I just wasn’t sure you loved me back. I didn’t want to rush into anything. I’ve known since the night you came to the hospital after I called you, upset, and you stayed with me.”

“Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving was when I realized I loved you. Watching you bond with my whole family, and watching you with your niece and nephew, I knew I loved you then.” He threw his head back, chuckling lightly before he looked at you again. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Sam,” you responded, your eyes tearing up slightly from his confession. Before tears could fall, you pressed your lips to his. His hand cupped the back of your head while his free arm fitted around your waist, pulling you flush against him. It was probably only thirty seconds, but felt like five minutes by the time you two had pulled away. “I really have to get ready to go though,” you breathed out, making him sigh.

“I guess I should head home. I’ll call you, tomorrow, sweetheart,” he said, pulling himself away from you.

You nodded, your hands the only thing that were still connected now. “Goodnight, Sam,” you murmured, frowning a bit when his hand finally slipped free of yours as he opened the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

When you were sure Sam was out of earshot, you screeched, bouncing up and down softly on your feet. You felt like a million butterflies were free in your stomach, and you were sure your heart was racing. You simply couldn’t wait to tell Josie about this news.