Work Text:
Night had fallen, and you were tired.
The hunt had taken its toll on you - a vampire nest, barely an hour’s drive from the bunker, had left a trail of bodies that had finally caught the press’s attention, and by extension, drawn in the interest of Sam, Dean and yourself. Though the night had gone mostly according to plan (a rarity in your line of work), the seemingly endless fighting had left you with aching limbs and heavy eyelids.
You felt the familiar rumble of the Impala vibrating through the leather seats as you collapsed into the back, barely managing to strap yourself in before Dean had pulled from the curb with a spray of gravel and a few revs of the engine. The glass of the window was cool on your forehead as you leaned against it, staring out at the shadowy silhouettes of the trees, reduced to ghostly blurs beneath the dim light of the crescent moon.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Sam remarked from the passenger seat, his voice drawing you back inside the car, which was soothingly warm compared to the fresh chill of the autumn air.
“‘Course it wasn’t,” Dean replied cockily. “They didn’t stand a chance.”
Though you couldn’t see his face, you could envision Sam’s bemused smile and the roll of his eyes. You felt a weary smile curve your lips at the thought.
“You alright back there?” Sam called, glancing over his shoulder at you. You quickly perked up, clearing your throat and berating yourself for your racing heart.
“Yeah- fine,” you assured him, swallowing to clear the dryness in your mouth and settle the butterflies in your stomach. You lived with the guy - sure, you had a crush on him, but the effect he seemed to have on you left even you bewildered. The smooth honey of his voice seemed to wash over you like a healing force, the smile in his tone rejuvenating you even when you were at your lowest. His kindness, his empathy, his unabashed pursuit of his interests despite his brothers mocking, all gravitated you towards him. Who could blame you for feeling as you did?
You brushed the feelings away as you saw Sam’s grin glinting in what little light there was.
“Good,” was his only reply, though the relief conveyed in his tone warmed your body from head to toe. You were jolted irritably from your reverie by Dean’s loud interjection.
“Well I, for one, can’t wait to have a beer and sleep till noon,” he announced, and you raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously? It’s Halloween!” you protested, and as if on cue, the Impala cruised through suburbia, the streets lined with porches adorned with glowing, carved pumpkins that smiled eerily at you through the windows.
“Your point?” Dean demanded.
“Uh, horror movie marathon? Duh?”
Sam laughed, and the sound brought you far more joy than you cared to admit. “Y/N, our whole life is a horror movie,” he reminded you, and you rolled your eyes good naturedly.
“Yeah, but there’s something so satisfying in criticising Hollywood’s interpretation of the supernatural, and watching people make decisions so stupid that you wonder how humans survive as a species,” you replied knowledgeably.
“You got me there,” Dean responded as he brought the car to a halt outside the bunker. The three of you got out, and with the slamming of car doors and the heavy tread of tired footsteps, you found your way into the confines of the bunker.
Sam and Dean headed for celebratory beers, and while a part of you yearned to join them, your first priority was a hot shower to wash away the painful memories of the night. The fluorescent lighting burned your eyes as you blinked slowly, relishing in the warm water that washed away the sticky blood from your skin, which was mottled with fresh bruises.
Once dry and clean, you settled onto your bed and pulled out your laptop, scrolling through Netflix for a movie. Eventually you decided on one, and cuddled up beneath your duvet, eyes eager despite the sluggishness of your tired limbs. The darkness enveloped you like a blanket as the screen darkened, and the movie began.
—
Sam placed down his empty can with a satisfied sigh, glancing idly at the clock and finding himself surprised to see it was already two a.m.
“I should get to bed,” he told Dean, slowly pushing back his chair and getting to his feet, stretching as he did so. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Weakling,” he muttered, cracking open another beer. Sam rolled his eyes, about to turn away before the voice of his brother beckoned him back. “Wait up. So. Y/N.”
“What about them?” Sam asked, feigning ignorance. Dean shot him a sceptical look.
“Really? You’re gonna go with that? I’ve seen the way you look at them - I’m not blind,” he said condescendingly.
Sam stared at his brother, half inclined to deny his claims, but resolved instead to sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’m not their type, anyway, I mean-”
Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m sorry? You two have a crazy amount of tension there, the only reason I’m bringing it up is because it’s even getting annoying for me to be around you both, all… all secret glances and stupid smiles. Just tell them, dammit, before I lose my mind!” Dean proclaimed, and Sam was ataken back.
Before he could fathom a response, he heard a loud swear resonating from Y/N’s room, followed by a slamming door and the tread of footsteps as they walked out.
—
Stupid movie. Stupid ghosts. Stupid jumpscares, you grumbled to yourself as you walked towards the warm light of the library, seeking out your friends to distract you from the horror movie still spieling on in your head.
“Y/N,” Sam announced in surprise as you entered the room. He immediately caught the look on your face, and his shock melted into concern. “Are you okay?”
“The stupid ghost killed the stupid person and it was unnecessarily loud and gory and-”
“Wait, wait, hold up- are you scared?” Dean asked in disbelief, before proceeding to cackle in glee. “God, who woulda thought Y/N would be scared of some stupid movie?”
You shot him a glare that eased when you saw the bemusement that Sam tried to hide.
“Y/N, he’s kinda got a point,” he said lightly, a teasing gleam in his eye. “You’re a hunter, you can handle a ghost, easy.”
You huffed irritably. “I mean, yeah, doesn’t make it any less loud or gory though,” you grumbled, and Sam restrained a smile. Unbeknownst to you both, Dean glanced between the two of you, a knowing look crossing his face.
“Sam. You should go finish the movie with them,” he suggested, giving Sam a pointed look that was met with one of confusion.
“Or I could just stop watching the movie,” you countered, though the thought of being in your room alone with Sam sent your heart racing with excitement.
“Pssh, and mess up the ‘continue watching’ in my Netflix account that I pay for?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “You two are finishing that movie.”
Sam smiled sheepishly as he glanced at you, rubbing the back of his neck somewhat nervously. “You heard him, I guess,” he relented, and you surrendered not to Dean, but the hint of hope in Sam’s wide eyes that moulded you so easily to his will.
“Fine,” you allowed reluctantly, and the two of you made your way back to your room, where your laptop was ominously casting light in the darkness. You collapsed onto your bed, patting the space next to you with an uncertain glance to Sam as you ignored your hastened breath and sweaty palms. He offered a half smile as he sat awkwardly next to you, his gangly frame taking up most of the bed.
You hit play, but found yourself immersed not in the movie but in Sam’s entirely amusing reactions to it. His scoffs at the poor attempts of special effects, his chuckles at the poor decision making of the protagonist.
“You’re scared of this? Y/N, we see worse than this every other night. We saw worse than this a few hours ago,” he teased, and you hmph'd in displeasure, taking the opportunity to scoot closer to him. He draped an arm casually around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his chest. You felt the radiating warmth of his body heat, smelt the familiar scent of his aftershave melding with the fresh scent of his shampoo.
“Watch yourself, Winchester,” you threatened playfully, resting your head tentatively on his chest. He didn’t react, and you leaned on him a little more heavily, your tiredness catching up to you as you sought comfort in his embrace. You closed your eyes for barely a moment, but when you opened them again, the end credits were rolling up the screen.
“Is it over already?” you asked dazedly, and Sam observed you in amusement.
“Yeah, it’s over,” he said quietly, his voice swallowed up by the darkness. You allowed a small exhale of relief, glancing up at Sam through your eyelashes as his eyes met yours, your faces barely inches apart. Perhaps what happened next was a byproduct of the exhilaration of the movie, or the surreal atmosphere that nighttime lent, but frankly, the reason held no significance to you as Sam hesitantly grazed his lips over yours.
You both froze, and Sam gauged your reaction with panic in his eyes. Crap. Did he just make a mistake? Did you not feel the same? Was Dean wrong? Crap, how was he going to explain his way out of this one?
His worries were rendered obsolete as a soft smile finally spread across your lips, and you could feel the tension drain from the air as he returned your smile. You rested your hand on his cheek, the stubble coarse beneath your fingertips, and pulled him down for another kiss.
If this was your reward, you’d happily watch a horror movie any day.