“andromeda, i think,” he supplies, voice low and soft by your ear. he’s stood next to you, leaning against the impala, warm shoulder pressed to yours as he guides you through space and introduces you to the plethora of constellations that shine bright tonight. “that star right there? that’s alpheratz. the brightest one.”

you turn your head to watch him, and he’s already watching you. he quickly averts his gaze back up to the sky, eyebrows pinched and eyes glittering so prettily. your heart squeezes and turns upside down and you think you’d like for him to keep talking until the end of time.

“i see it,” you hum, voice a murmur. his lowered hand grazes yours. “it’s pretty, sammy.” 

“you’re not bored?” he’s being very sweet with you, as always. but there’s something especially tender and soft about how he’s speaking and looking at you now. he’s a little worried that he’s causing an ache in your ear from how much he’s been rambling and he truly doesn’t want you to leave or have anything other than a good time.

he loves you. he happens to believe you’re brighter than anything celestial. and he really isn't sure how his heart is big enough to contain all that he feels for you.

you shake your head and smile at him, lips quirking up just enough for him to see in the darkness around you. “not bored.”

his chest throbs with something warm and strong and yearning; he almost burns. because you're so close to him, yet so far. you don't know how much he longs to hold you and tell you about all of what he loves. including you. dean is getting tired of listening, he thinks.

you take his hand. his throat bobs.

he might just melt down into the earth and become one with the soil. but then he'd have to leave you behind, and he simply can't have that. he needs you, all the time. everywhere and forever.

"would you ever wanna go up there?" he asks. too much silence has passed. "to space."

you think for a moment before giving his hand a subtle squeeze. it feels like a big step, holding hands.

"maybe. heights get to me sometimes," you say. space has been forgotten. sam is nicer to look at, you've decided this already.

"i'd go up there with you," he breathes, eyes still searching above as if he's scared to meet your gaze. this moment is quiet and still and it means very much to him. "it's high, yeah. but we wouldn't have to look down."

"i guess not," a blink and a breath. "i'd go up there with you, sammy."

you're going to kill him. properly and fully executed. he doesn't think it would hurt all that much. nothing hurts right now.

"yeah?"

"yeah. can you tell me more about the stars?"

"of course," he nods feverishly and finally meets your stare with his. his expression is so adoring, and you can see it. all of it, everything. the love and the hope. though nothing is confessed tonight.

but he tells you about a star so bright and shiny and how it reminds him of you. he spots nearly three more constellations and explains their names and structures. when you look up at the universe, he steals glances at you.

and he thinks he'd like to stay here forever.

castiel was watching every single move of yours with wide eyes, blown pupils and parted lips. the way you prepped dean seemed utterly filthy but he didn’t care. dean was whining for the first time in his life, an arm thrown over his eyes to try and keep his face hidden. he was naked on the bed, lying on his back.

once you approached castiel, he stiffened up visibly, trying to seem more composed as he closed his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows a bit. “remember what dean did?” castiel paused. “which part?” he said softly, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “when i told him we have no lube,” you cleared up. “..he..” castiel paused once more, the imagery flashing through his mind again. he’s sinning, he knows he is, but damn it if it doesn’t feel a weird type of good. “you wanna fuck him, right? you don’t wanna hurt him, i assume?” you asked castiel, your lips ghosting over the corner of his mouth. the angel’s breath hitched, almost tilting his head instinctively, ready to deepen the nonexistent kiss. “cas?” you cooed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. castiel blinked dumbly, not even reciprocating the gesture. “uhm, yes. no.” he said breathlessly. “don’t want to.. hurt him.” his eyes flickered to dean, who was now propped up on his elbows, watching the two of you with a pouty face.

you noticed it, too. the look on dean’s face. “okay, he’s getting pouty. open your mouth.” you turned your attention back to castiel, bringing up a hand to his lips. his eyes flickered with a hint of uncertainty, but he listened nonetheless. castiel’s lips wrapped around your fingers as you pushed them into his mouth. his tongue, hesitant at first, laved over the digits, trying to mimick what dean had done. he only knew because you made dean do it with his mouth open so castiel could see. his saliva coated your fingers generously. his pretty blue eyes, wide and unsure, never left yours, so full of need that it made your stomach clench. “good boy,” you muttered, sliding your digits free with a soft pop, the wetness of them glistening under the dim light.

you reached down and freed castiel’s cock with your other hand, swiftly, your wet fingers wrapping around his length and giving a few slow pumps, slicking him up. castiel made a soft sound that obviously escaped him involuntarily, his hands getting clammy. eventually, you deemed him slick enough and you guided him to dean. “spread ‘em.” you told him as castiel watched intently. with a small grumble, dean complied, spreading his legs slightly. pushing the angel forward, you made him step between the hunter’s legs. dean shifted, his eyes locking onto castiel’s. “don’t look at me like that..” dean mumbled out, rubbing a hand over his face. “can’t believe i’m actually doing this..” you lined castiel’s cock up against dean’s entrance, feeling the angel shudder at the heat. this was actually a pleasant surprise; castiel’s cock was nice and thick. if only he knew how to use it..

“push in slow,” you instructed, lips brushing against the shell of castiel’s ear. “make him feel every inch of you.” the angel’s hands hesitantly landed just above dean’s hips, his large, gentle hands hot to the touch. “are— are you-” he started, but you cut him off. “c’mon. look at ‘im. he wants you, you can see it in his eyes. you can feel the lust.” you spoke, moving a hand to dean’s knee to push his legs wider apart. dean scrunched his face up, throwing an arm over his eyes once again. castiel obeyed your previous order with a stuttery sigh, inching forward slowly, the head of his cock breaching dean’s rim. he pussied out though, retracting his hips back, before he solemnly spoke up. “dean looks like—”

“cas. he’s not in pain.” you muttered against the side of his neck, subtly urging castiel. he decided to try again, his hands trailing down to dean’s thighs, touch light. dean almost instinctively bucked his hips up, the touch of the angel’s hands truly making him feel ecstatic. he pushed in again, this time to halfway. both of them were breathing heavily. castiel’s face was flushed while the tips of dean’s ears turned red. dean, of course, like the slut that he was, pressed his hips down in order to get castiel all the way in. you tutted disapprovingly at his actions. “don’t do that, sweetheart. let cas take his time.” you warned him, and in return, dean whimpered. the sound had a very obvious effect on castiel as he stilled. hearing dean make those sounds because of him made him twitch inside. “all the way in, cas. all the way in.” you coaxed him, pressing a hand to the angel’s lower back. castiel nodded once as you guided castiel’s hips, pressing forward, watching as his thick cock disappeared into dean’s body, slow and ruthless. inch by inch, his hole stretched obscenely around the angel, swallowing him down until castiel was fully sheathed, balls flush against dean’s ass. “good.” you muttered to castiel, your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing gesture. “stay deep,” you started, your lips ghosting the shell of castiel’s ear, making him shiver slightly; he didn’t know his vessel was ticklish.. “feel how tight he is around you? how he’s clenching? he loves being full like this.” you spoke, castiel’s eyes not once leaving dean’s pretty body. dean mewled, pushing back, clearly greedy.

“fuck him slow at first,” you ordered. “make him beg.”

you stayed close, hand on castiel’s lower back to steady him as the angel pulled back, slow and shaky, before thrusting forward again. dean groaned loudly, pressing a hand over his mouth, every slow roll of castiel’s hips earning little broken sounds out of him. you watched as castiel fucked into dean with steady building confidence — hips snapping just a tad bit harder, faster, small groans leaving the angel’s lips at the sensation. sweat slicked both of their bodies, dean’s cock untouched and leaking precum over his abdomen. “harder, cas. he can take it.” you said, enticing castiel. you moved to stand behind the angel, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. castiel obeyed your order with a small groan, pounding into dean with a quite brutal rhythm that made the bedframe rattle. such a fast learner.

————

castiel’s fingers were digging into dean’s thighs, his eyes wide. dean was propped up on his palms, on either side of the angel. dean felt wrecked already; he hasn’t slept with many men, and he never bottomed. now to take two cocks? yours and castiel’s? fuck. “look at cas, dean, he’s the one inside ya,” you taunted, rubbing your hands over his hips. dean was on all fours, castiel’s cock still buried deep inside dean’s hole. you lined yourself up, the anticipation making dean moan. castiel felt his heart flutter weirdly, lips parting at the noises dean keeps emitting. “are you alright?” castiel asked worriedly, moving his head to catch dean’s gaze. you smiled at the question, very very slowly pushing the tip of your cock in. dean gritted his teeth as he scrunched his face up, muttering a small curse word. “relax dean,” you murmured, leaning over him, your chest pressing to his back. “you’re doin’ real good, baby,” slowly and steadily you pushed in, the pressure immense, almost unbearable. dean sought some sort of way to ground himself, to bear the pain, so, he moved his hands to castiel’s shoulders, gripping tight. in a moment of vulnerability, dean pressed his forehead to castiel’s, panting heavily. “f—fuck, fuck fuck fuck..” he breathed out in a broken voice. castiel being castiel, moved both of his hands up and gently cradled dean’s face. ‘how cute.’ you thought.

“shhh..” you soothed dean, running a hand up his spine. “you’re doin’ so good, takin’ us both.” you continued softly. it was slow going, your cock sliding in alongside castiel’s, the stretch obscene. dean let out a whiny, broken sob, legs trembling. when you were finally fully inside dean, pressed so tightly against castiel you could feel his heartbeat through it, you let out a drawn out, low and guttural groan. castiel’s lips ghosted over dean’s, torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to make sure he’s okay. eventually, castiel kissed dean roughly, the latter letting out a muffled moan against his mouth. dean was extremely tight, but it was only logical. to fit two cocks inside him was task enough. “move.. fuck, move.” dean gasped out against the angel’s mouth, rolling his hips albeit the action broken and stuttery. with a sigh, you comply, pulling back slowly, dragging your cock around dean’s tight, gummy walls, then thrust forward again, grinding castiel’s cock deeper into him at the same time. dean moaned out a half choked sound, shaking his head barely against castiel’s forehead. you set a rhythm with castiel, moving almost in sync — when you pulled out, he pushed in, and when you filled dean, castiel pulled back. it was relentless, overwhelming, every single thrust making dean feel like he was going to split apart and god, he loved it. castiel was making desperate, broken sounds too, right in dean’s ear, panting heavily.

dean clutched at castiel’s shoulders desperately, white-knuckled, his body caught between you and castiel — he felt used, stretched, filled so full that he could barely think. his cock dragged against castiel’s stomach with each painful thrust, leaking, twitching helplessly. “sonovabitch..” he sobbed against castiel’s skin. “you’re perfect, so perfect..” you praised, pressing opened mouth kisses against his shoulders, keeping the steady pace, savoring the filthy, obscene tightness of his hole. castiel’s cock kept twitching as he inhaled dean’s scent. he thought dean smelt so good that he moaned. castiel’s hands slid into dean’s hair, grasping lightly, his touch almost reverent. “you’re so beautiful.” he breathed out and dean let out the most pornographic moan he possibly could. he shoved his ass back, greedy for every thrust, for every wave of pleasure and pain that burned through him. dean was stuffed full, his walls stretching wide with every relentless drive of your hips. the heady squelch every time you would pull back was so lewd it turned you on even more.

“more, pretty?” you asked softly, hips grinding cruelly, deeper inside him. dean nodded, the action itself barely interpretable, body trembling violently. castiel’s thrusts were shorter, sharper. dean continued babbling pleas and nonsense, anything to keep both of you inside him. dean’s fingers were kneading castiel’s shoulders, continuously letting out slutty sounds. between the brutal pace and your filthy praise, dean was losing his goddamn mind. he came with a wrecked whimper, cock pulsing against castiel’s abdomen, hot ropes of cum painting the angel’s skin. in response, the one under dean moaned, hips stuttering. dean’s entire body clamped down, squeezing both of your cocks like a vice, and oh, the sensation dragged both you and castiel over the edge instantly. you cursed hoarsely, hips slamming forward as you came deep inside him, castiel doing the same with a loud, guttural whimper. dean shook from the force of his orgasm. he completely collapsed onto castiel, clinging to him.

the both of you slowly pulled out of dean and the hunter whined softly at the loss. cum leaked out of his hole and down his thighs. you rubbed the head of your cock against it, smearing the cum. the moment dean felt it, he grunted, nuzzling his face into castiel’s neck. with a grin on your face you took castiel’s cock, pumping him slowly and he immediately got hard again. castiel looked at you with a small frown, wondering what you were doing. “first lesson done,” you told the angel, sliding his cock back in dean again. “lesson’s two about takin’ it.” you said, settling yourself between castiel’s legs, pushing the tip against castiel’s rim. “not prepped, but,” you trailed off, looking at castiel as he gasped, feeling dean start moving on his own. “think you’ll do just fine..”

pushing your cock all the way in, albeit with slight resistance, castiel shifted, mouth open in another soundless gasp. the way you filled him, the way dean was leisurely riding his cock.. it felt so, so good. “c’mon, dean. you can do better than that.” you cooed, rubbing up and down against the side of dean’s thigh as you kept a steady rhythm, thrusting into castiel. dean sat up, propping himself by his palms, on castiel’s shoulders again. dean’s face was flushed, eyes glossy, sweat making his skin glisten, his hair stuck to his forehead. he had this dazed look on his face that made castiel clench and his cock twitch. “there ya go,” you muttered, pressing a kiss between dean’s shoulder blades. dean rolled his hips down harder this time, drawing a ragged groan out of castiel as he sank fully onto his cock. the stretch, the pressure of you steadily pounding into castiel, and now dean grinding down onto him — it was almost too much. castiel’s hands trembled where they gripped dean’s hips, fingertips digging into sweat-slick skin hard enough to leave bruises. “that’s it, baby,” you praised, your voice low and rough. “show him how much you want it.” dean whined under his breath, thighs trembling with effort. his pace picked up, messy and desperate, rolling and bouncing on castiel’s cock while you kept fucking into the angel with steady, brutal thrusts. each movement shoved castiel deeper into dean, the force jostling them both. castiel let his head fall back against the pillow, mouth open in a helpless moan, his hips jerking up to meet dean’s frantic rhythm. every time you slammed into him from behind, castiel’s cock speared up deeper into dean, making the hunter keen brokenly, tossing his head back. you slowed your thrusts just a little, savoring it — the way dean’s thighs shook with the obscure amount of effort to keep riding the angel, the wrecked little gasps he made every time castiel bottomed out inside him. “you look so pretty like this,” you murmured against dean’s sweaty back, dragging your tongue up to his earlobe. “fucked-out, desperate for it.”

dean whimpered, clenching helplessly around castiel’s cock, which in turn made castiel whine, nails biting into dean’s hips. dean’s body was trembling violently again, the pleasure almost unbearable, the steady rub of castiel’s cock against his sweet spot and your thick, relentless thrusts into castiel making him dizzy. “ca-can’t..” dean gasped, eyes squeezing shut. “gunna— gunna cum—” you wrapped a hand around his throat loosely, tugging him back against your chest, holding him upright as you fucked into Castiel — as castiel, trembling and panting, fucked up into him. “not yet,” you growled against the shell of his ear, tightening your grip just slightly. “not yet, dean.” dean whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut harder, biting his lip against the desperate pressure building in him. castiel whimpered too, overwhelmed, his body tensing underneath dean, his hands glowing just slightly. his grace. “dean—” castiel gasped, voice breaking. the hunter moaned loud, desperate, grinding down even harder, trying to chase it, needing it. you groaned low, feeling your own orgasm rising like a tide, your rhythm getting rougher, more erratic, hips slamming into castiel with a filthy, wet smack. “cum with me, cas,” you panted, nipping dean’s ear. “fill him up again. make him feel how much you want him.”

that was all it took.

castiel groaned loud, thrusting up deep and holding dean down on his cock as he came hard inside him. the heat of it, the twitch and pulse of castiel’s cock inside him, was too much for dean — he shattered apart with a broken sob, cock untouched, spilling across castiel’s chest as he came hard, muscles spasming. you fucked castiel through it, gritting your teeth as dean’s orgasm milked castiel’s cock; and the way castiel’s hole clenched around your cock dragged you under too, spilling deep inside the angel with a harsh groan. dean’s shaky arms gave out and he rested his forehead against castiel’s cheek, his body heaving with each breath he took. castiel laid boneless on the bed, trying to regulate his own breathing. you wrapped an arm around dean, pressing lazy, possessive kisses to his shoulder as your hand slid down to palm his hip.

“tired already?” you asked them both, eyes half lidded with lust. “we’re not finished yet,” you said with a small, breathy chuckle. “we’re just getting started.”

your hand slides up his back and tangles into his hair, fingers splaying over his scalp. a quiet hum rumbles in his throat and he buries himself further into your side. and in the haziness of his mind, he really wishes he could stay like this until the end of time. you’re his peace. his warmth and his love and he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

“are you awake?” his voice is low, but without any rough edges. 

“yeah,” you breathe. “i’m awake, sammy.”

a small, almost inaudible sound escapes his lips and he shifts again, picking up his head to meet your gaze. his is gentle and kind, as it always is when he looks at you. his leg settles between your thighs and he leans down to press his forehead against yours, breathing slow and deep.

“y’should go back to sleep, honey,” he slurs tiredly. his fingers move to lazily trace the curve of your jaw. "please."

"i will," you assure, voice a mere whisper now. "right now."

his nose brushes against the tip of yours as he gives a subtle nod. he blinks slowly at you, lips quirking up to form an almost impossibly soft smile, before he ducks his face to place a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.

you're rather warm, all over. the world is fuzzy and quiet, and it feels as if the only two people in existence are you and him. you like it that way, you decide. it's easy and so good like this.

everything with sam is lovely.

"i love you," you murmur, as he comes back up to look at you. "very much, sammy."

he's quiet for just a moment as a slow breath bleeds from him, and he gives you another kiss. this time to your nose.

"i love you, angel."

several lazy seconds pass before he's burying his head back into the slope of your shoulder, and relaxing completely over you. he's a heavy, comforting weight. he's safe and yours and he loves you, more than he can really articulate.

but you can feel it now, as he begins to drift back into a deep sleep. it beckons you, too. your lashes flutter before you allow your eyes to close, and your hands flex gently over the heated skin of his back.

you have time to enjoy this. to be with him and to be loved by him.

all the time in the world.

“sammy?” you question, pushing your laptop down the table as your focus on research dissipates in favor of making sure he's okay. he does look subtly sick now, and his cheeks seem to be flushed. his nose is definitely pink.

which all point to one thing.

a cold.

“you okay?”

he hums and looks up, meeting your gaze from his spot across the small motel table. your foot nudges against his sneakers underneath, and his expression softens.

“i'm good,” he tries to assure. and his voice might be a little nasally. “just- allergies. you finding anything?” 

you glance down at the papers spread across the table, at the notes and newspaper clippings scattered over the keyboard of your computer. none of it matters right now, you decide.

“no, nothing,” your answer is soft. “sam, you don’t get allergies.”

a part of you worries that you're being too attentive. but you really care about him, you may love him, really. in a more than friends type of way. 

friends can be attentive. he's always very attentive with you, and he's your friend. 

“i'm okay,” he smiles, but he sniffles along with it and his eyebrows pinch ever so slightly. “promise. i've got a good immune system.”

you stare at him for a moment, pursing your lips. you wish he'd just let you dote over him. because you'd like to forever, if you could. 

if he was yours.

you quickly determine that until he finds someone else, somebody bright and lovely and perfect for him, you can make sure he's taken care of. you can remind him to eat and take breaks and drink enough water.

you do a good job of that, already.

“they've got tea in the lobby,” you remember aloud. sam's small smile draws down into something more confused, and you stand from your chair. “i'll get you some.”

he breathes out your name.

“it’s okay, i don't need any-”

“you like chamomile?” 

he's quiet. and he decides to let you do this for him, because he would feel much too bad to refuse you; he hates seeing you disheartened. and he does feel a little too cold, he supposes. there’s an ache in his bones and the early fall weather might be the culprit. 

but he feels a little warmer when you talk to him. whenever you’re near him, really. if he could, he’d tuck you against him and bury his face into the slope of your neck and bask in your loveliness for as long as you’d let him. you would be a much better antidote than any tea this motel has, he thinks. 

he can’t do that, though. he can’t have you, in the way that he yearns to.

“i- yeah,” he relents, and his glittering eyes hold so much gentleness as he watches you move to tug on your shoes. “i do. thank you.”

when you make your way back from the lobby, sam has cloaked himself in one of the blankets from the bed. he’s still at the table, however, trying desperately to get some research done.

steam billows from the paper cup in your hand, as you close the door behind you and cross the room over to him. your free hand settles on his shoulder as you round his chair and place the tea in front of him.

“sam.” your voice is soft and careful. he looks like he might fall asleep any moment; his pretty eyes are half-lidded and his lashes flutter with every breath he takes. but he manages to turn his head up to look at you, and in his sickly daze, he thinks you might be an angel standing before him.

you brush off the expression on his face, despite the way your heart squeezes almost painfully at it. he looks at you like you're something beautiful and good that he's devoted to.

“drink up,” you coax, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “i made it how you like. they had honey, too.”

sam nods feverishly and takes the cup between his large hands without breaking his gaze on you. because you got him tea, and you made it how he loves, and your hand on his shoulder sends a glowing feeling of pure affection coursing through him. he loves you.

he loves you.

“thank you,” his voice is a mere breath. “It’s perfect. you’re perfect.”

you swallow.

“i’m- you- thank you,” you stammer, and why is he looking at you like that? “you haven’t even tried it-”

“don’t need to. i know it’s perfect.”

you don’t say anything in response. 

sam’s lips quirk nervously before he gathers himself and focuses on the tea, and you reclaim your seat at the table. but the only thing you can do is gawk at him with subtly widened eyes, and try your very best not to dwell on whatever that was.

because that look he gave you could very well mean love.

it could have been love.

and the way his eyes glittered with something wonderful and his lips parted in awe as he saw you;

it’s more than enough for now.

dates with him are very lovely, because of it. but sam always drives you home afterwards, and you think that might be your favorite part of it all.

you get to just be with him. it’s only the two of you, as he steers his car down the dark road. with the moon glowing high above, and him next to you, you’re sure you could stay in this moment for a long, long time. maybe forever, if forever wasn’t too much right now. too early.

you hold a delicate bundle of small flowers that he gave you earlier on your lap, admiring them quietly. he makes silence comfortable, and the song he’s playing on low is quite nice, you think. 

drown. by the smashing pumpkins. it’s about to end and fade into another.

“i like this song,” you speak up, and sam gives you a soft glance. “you’ve got good taste.”

the corners of his lips quirk up to form a smile. he seems to smile whenever you speak, because he really just loves to listen to you. he could for days on end, if you'd let him.

“thank you,” he breathes. the song quiets. “i mean- you do, too. from what i’ve heard.”

your cheeks glow a soft pink and you trace a petal with your fingertip, before picking your head up to look at him. he looks quite pretty, and you’d like to tell him. his dark hair scruffs over his forehead, and his eyes glimmer under the light of the stars.

“can you play another?” you question. because there really is something tenderly intimate about learning someone’s favorites. whether a song, or a fragrance. even flowers.

“another song?”

“mhm,” your voice is a quiet hum. “anything you like, sam.”

his lips quirk as he thinks, and he might be about to say something. but his fingers reach for the radio. and after a few moments, a strum of gentle, slow notes swell from it.

“ever heard this?” sam questions, and his voice is almost impossibly gentle. “it’s called about you.”

your gaze meets his, as you listen.

i can see,

that you and me, 

live our lives in the pouring rain.

you shake your head, but his choice of music makes something good and bright stir inside of your chest. the feeling might just be invoked by sam, but it’s stronger than what you usually experience when you're together.

it doesn't scare you. you might like to feel it more often.

“i like it,” you hum. “it- it sounds like you, a little. if that makes sense.”

sam’s smile seems to sparkle brighter, and he slowly moves his hand down to your lap. his palm turns up invitingly, and your expression matches his as you take it. his hand is warm and big and all too comforting. it’s familiar, now.

“i actually think of you,” he admits. “when i hear this.”

there’s something warm about the rain.

there’s something good,

about you.

heat burns over your cheeks, as they puff out from your growing smile. instinct beckons you to turn your head, and focus on the darkness out of the window. but it’s surprisingly easy to look into sam’s kind eyes. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before focusing ahead.

“maybe it’s corny,” he sighs quietly. “i don’t know. just- you’re good. and i really like you.”

you might melt right into his passenger seat. but it wouldn’t be good for the leather, and so you try your best to contain yourself. you run your thumb over his knuckles, and you can nearly see the turn of your neighborhood from here.

you don’t feel like going home, yet. 

“i really like you, too,” you murmur. “thank you, sammy.”

he’s quiet, and so are you. and you might love him, rather than really like. he makes you feel cared for and beautiful, in more ways than just physically. he softens your edges, and shares the goodness of his soul with you.

that includes his favorite songs, you suppose.

he helps you out of the car, after he pulls into your driveway. and he walks you up to your front door with his hand joined in yours once more as you carry the flowers with your other. 

you turn to him, looking up as he looks down at you. you might get lost in his eyes, one day. you wouldn't mind.

“thank you for driving me home,” you murmur. “and for the date. and flowers. i had a good time.”

he blinks slow and shakes his head as an amused huff escapes him. he thinks you're very sweet, all of the time.

he might even love you, too.

“you don’t have to thank me, honey,” he assures. “i had fun, too.”

honey. you'd really love to be his honey for longer than just tonight. or even a few weeks or months. years sound better. but you might just be getting ahead of yourself.

you hope you aren't.

“can i kiss you?” 

you nod instantly, fingers tightening around the bouquet. 

“yes, please.”

his fingers graze the curve of your jaw and he leans down to meet you. his lips press a lingering kiss to your cheek, soothing the flustered hotness there, and you would let him give you a thousand more if only it wasn't so late.

when he leaves eventually, and you make your way inside, you feel much warmer than you have in a long time. 

i know there's something warm,

there's something warm;

good, about you.

Having a hunter as a boyfriend meant two things: one, long distance was a thing. Sometimes you wouldn't see your boyfriend for weeks—months even. But he always found his way back to you. Two, him and his brother crashing at your place instead of a motel on the nights they were close enough to your house, and Sam refused to go anywhere else.

So, when the Impala came to a rumbling pause at a stoplight, Dean whipped out his phone to check for motels in the area. Sam immediately let out a groan of disapproval from where he was half-asleep in the passenger seat.

Dean glanced over at his brother quickly, shifting gears as the stoplight changed.

"What?" he questioned, brow arched slightly.

"No motels." Sam sighed, his exhaustion practically making him sink into the car seat.

Now it was Dean's turn to sigh. "Alright then, genius. Where do you want to go?" he half-heartedly asked, already turning into the intersection that led them toward your house.

"You know." Sam replied, his head lulling to the side lazily, looking over at his brother through the fluff of his hair. And Dean did know. How couldn’t he? He had slept on your couch more times than he could count, despite you always telling him to use the spare room. Your house had become much like Bobby's—a home away from home. A small safe haven. A second base of operations.

And besides, the smile that spread across Sam's face whenever the Impala came to a stop in your driveway made coming here over going to Bobby's worth it for Dean. He'd do anything to see his little brother smile like that—even if that meant crashing on your couch for a couple nights and witnessing his hunter of a brother turn into a six-foot-four golden retriever around you.

However, tonight Sam was tired. Beyond that, actually. So was Dean, but he'd never show it—not really, not around Sammy. The hunt had taken longer than expected, and the usual rotation of demon-angel interruptions didn't help at all. So, Dean held his brother by the scruff of his neck like a disobedient kitten, muttering "C'mon, Sammy," under his breath as Sam stumbled up the stairs to your front door, fumbling to get the spare key you had given him out of his pocket.

Once the brothers were inside, door shut behind them, Sam didn’t even spare Dean a second glance as he practically dove headfirst onto your couch, groaning dramatically as he adjusted the pillows to his liking. Waving his little brother off with a little "Goodnight, Sammy."

Sam, however, had made a beeline straight for your bedroom. He needed to see you, feel you, hold you. It had been weeks without you, and it had finally caught up to your poor Sammy.

Despite Sam always telling you to stay at home, stay away from the hunt, to not go on the road with him and Dean because "It's safer this way, baby. I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you," Sam hated having you away from him. Dean would call him clingy, and so what? You were his. He had the right to be clingy.

So, after Sam diligently let himself into your room—stripping himself from his jacket, flannel, shirt—anything that could possibly prevent him from feeling the touch of your skin on his—the cold night air nipped at his newly exposed warmth, but he didn't care. Not when he was clumsily kicking his boots off and sliding into bed behind you—jeans and all.

You woke slightly when you felt the bed dip, lashes fluttering as you tried to fight off the sleep still clinging so tightly to your mind. You were in that comfortable, hazy, lucid transition from sleep to waking when Sam wrapped his big arm around your waist, dragging you across the expanse of the bed.

Ah. He was back.

When your back hit his chest, Sam sighed like a dying man who had just found salvation, his face immediately finding its familiar place in the crook of your neck—breathing you in. All the tension melted from his body, shoulders going limp as he melted into you, legs tangling with yours under the covers.

"Hey, Sammy," you managed, voice rough and still heavy with sleep. Your hand came to rest over his arm at your waist.

"Hey—hey, baby," Sam replied instantly, voice soft and near your ear. He was not planning on moving anytime soon. "M’sorry. Did I wake you?"

And despite not seeing him, you could hear the way his brows furrowed in his voice.

You shook your head gently so as not to interrupt Sam's nuzzling into your neck, your hair—any part of you he could reach right now. His hold tightened on your waist when he pressed a little kiss to the back of your neck. "Missed you, baby. Missed you so much," he mumbled, voice low and oh-so tired.

It made your chest ache for your sweet boy. You tapped Sam's arm lightly, a silent indicator that you wanted him to loosen the absolute death grip he had on you. After he whined—actually whined like a little kid being told "no"—he let go.

Your newfound freedom of movement allowed you to turn around, arms immediately flying open for Sam. Even in the dim lighting of your bedroom, you could see the way those hazel puppy eyes fluttered. Sam immediately sunk lower in the bed, tucking his head underneath your chin, his head settling on your chest with the softest little sigh. Your fingers began lazily carding through his hair, playing through the absolute fluff that resided on Sam Winchester's head, while his arms found their way around your body again.

It wasn't long before Sam was out cold against your collarbone, his breathing heavy and weight settled nice and heavy on top of you. You stayed awake a little while longer, just looking at him like this. Soft. Peaceful. Yours. He looked so boyish when he slept, almost as if he hadn't gone through everything that he had.

You loved him so much it hurt, and you knew that he loved you just as much—if not more—from the way he'd practically be glued to your hip whenever he and Dean found their way back to your house again. Almost as if he was trying to make up for lost time. Every kiss a silent "I'm sorry for leaving," and every lingering hug a "I promise I'll come back to you."

Eventually, sleep claimed you again, but not until you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, whispering a little "Welcome home, Sammy." Tomorrow, when the sun rose, he and Dean would start plotting and planning again, setting out to leave just as quickly as they came.

But right now, Sam was yours. He wasn't a hunter, or cursed, or Lucifer's vessel. He was just—Sam. Your sweet, sweet Sammy. And for as long as he was asleep on your chest with your fingers in his hair, that is exactly what you let him be.

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don't be afraid to drop a comment about your thoughts! thank you for reading! also, shout out to @thomasdelongswife for leaving this comment on my post where i was fighting DEMONS to not write this fic.