Work Text:
The time was 11:53 PM.
The Winchesters had long since retired to their rooms for the night, leaving (Y/N) alone in the library. His laptop rested on the wooden table in front of him, a small notebook open to his right with a variety of pen colors scattered over the pristine white paper. (Y/N)’s fingers worked rapidly against the keys on the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen as the words appeared on the Word document.
For years, (Y/N) had a dream. That dream was to become an author. He had been interested in books ever since he was a little kid, the first book he had ever read was Of Mice and Men when he was in the second grade. Ever since, he introduced himself to a wide array of authors across different genres, taking in all of their writing styles and techniques. As he got older, he knew he wanted to be just like the authors that wrote some of his favorite books. He wanted to have his name on the shelves of hundreds, potentially thousands, of people around the world. He wanted to be the inspiration for another young writer, just like the authors before him. He wanted to be the reason people got back into reading and writing.
However, being a hunter meant that (Y/N)’s schedule was random. He never had a set time where he could sit down and write what he wanted to. The book that he was working on was a couple of years in the making, after all. With all the cases and personal issues that seemed to pop up constantly around himself and the Winchesters, he knew that he would have to improvise at times when it came to his writing. While nothing was set in stone, he had made some adjustments to his everyday life so that he was able to get some writing done every day.
On long car rides, when they were driving to or from a case, he would bring out his phone and jot down any ideas that he had. Occasionally, he would get up early in the morning to guarantee that he added something to his word count. Some nights, if the day had been busy, he would stay up later than Sam and Dean to get his thoughts onto paper as quickly as he could.
Sure, it was exhausting at times. He craved the warm feeling of his bed underneath him and the soft sensation of a pillow resting beneath his head, but he knew that if he didn’t write, he would go insane, and he would rather be sane and tired than energetic and crazy.
After what he assumed was, twenty minutes of non-stop typing, (Y/N) leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms above his head to stretch his back. He clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling the muscles in them tightening from being overworked. Then, he did something that he had promised himself before his writing session that he wouldn’t do.
He looked at the time.
The time was 1:40 AM.
It had been longer than he thought. When he saw the time, he felt a yawn building up inside of him. Suddenly, he comprehended just how tired he was. His eyes began to droop and his entire body felt as if there was a weight of a thousand pounds resting on it. He glanced down at the writing in his journal for a moment before another yawn escaped him. He cursed under his breath.
(Y/N) turned back to the computer, placing his hands on the keys for a moment to read over the paragraph he had just completed. He read it a couple of times, yet his fingers would not move, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he knew what he should write next. Nothing was coming out. So, all he did was stare at the screen in front of him. He sighed.
“(Y/N)?” A deep, tired voice came from beside him.
(Y/N) jumped as he placed his hand over his chest, turning to look at the person who spoke. Sam stood there, clad in a long-sleeve night shirt and sweatpants. His hair was slightly tousled and he seemed as if he had just woken up. (Y/N) let out a shaky breath.
“Jesus, Sam, you scared the Hell out of me,” he said.
Sam chuckled as he took a couple of steps through the threshold of the library. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair. “What’re you still doing up?”
“Um…” (Y/N) trailed as he glanced between Sam and the document in front of him. He rubbed his hands together before he shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, which was followed by another long, dramatic yawn.
Sam raised his brows as a small, amused smirk made its way onto his lips. He gestured behind him towards the room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to bed. I can tell you’re exhausted.”
(Y/N) inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face, giving a small nod. “Alright, yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled as he reached forward, saving the document before closing the laptop.
(Y/N) stood and grabbed his laptop, journal, and pens. He stuffed the pens into his pocket, tucked his journal underneath his arm, and held his laptop close to his chest. He pushed his chair up to the table before he tiredly shuffled over to Sam. Sam couldn’t help but smile warmly as he watched him. When (Y/N) moved next to him, Sam placed his hand on the small of his back and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“What were you working on anyway? Research?” Sam asked as the two of them began to make their way down the hallway toward their bedroom.
(Y/N) glanced up at him before shrugging his shoulders. “Something like that.”
(Y/N) had never told anyone about his dream. It was always something that he had kept a secret. He knew about the history that Sam and Dean had with the prophet Chuck, he had even read a couple of the books that Chuck had written, and the last thing (Y/N) wanted was for them to think that he was just like him. Nothing that he wrote had anything to do with the hunting life. He needed an escape from the life at times, and creating his own realities was a way for him to get out of it.
A part of him knew that, if he were to tell Sam and Dean, they would be supportive of his efforts. Even so, with the lack of schedule that he had created for himself, and with him being on only the first draft of his novel, he didn’t want any expectations put on him for them to read what he had written. Perhaps he was overthinking it. He had considered it a couple of times, but he always told himself that it was better to be safe than sorry.
Sam gave him a smile before they entered the bedroom. (Y/N) walked over to the small desk that was located in the corner of the room and sat his laptop next to Sam’s, placing his journal and pens on top of the computer. He plugged in his laptop, ensuring that the charging light was on before he walked over to the bed. Just looking at the bed, (Y/N) craved the feeling of the soft comforter around him. His body felt heavier than ever.
As Sam crawled into the bed, (Y/N) stripped himself of his shirt, tossing it onto the ground, vowing that he would pick it up in the morning once he was well-rested. He then crawled into bed next to his boyfriend. It didn’t take them long to press their bodies against one another, their arms wrapping around each other’s middles and their legs tangling together. (Y/N) felt a sense of relief hit him at the embrace. With a smile on his face, Sam pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead.
“Goodnight,” he said in a soft tone.
“Goodnight,” (Y/N) whispered back to him.
It didn’t take long before exhaustion overtook him. His eyelids fell shut as he allowed his body to relax. His breathing steadied and he felt himself slowly drift off into a peaceful slumber.
The next morning, (Y/N) stirred when he felt the bed shift underneath him. He inhaled sharply as a warm hand reached up and caressed his bare arm gingerly. He furrowed his brows and slowly opened his eyes. The room was still dark thanks to the lack of windows in the bunker, the only light being from the bedroom door, which stood ajar. Looking up, (Y/N) could see the dark outline of his boyfriend standing over him.
“Sorry to wake you, sweetheart,” Sam whispered, a chuckle following his words.
(Y/N) groaned. “What time is it?” He asked, his voice sounding as if he was still half-asleep.
“About eleven. You can go back to sleep, I know you were up really late. I was just wondering if I could use your computer for research. I forgot to plug mine in last night and the battery is completely dead.”
(Y/N) raised his brows as he reached over to the nightstand and picked up his cell phone. Turning on the screen, he squinted at the bright light and read the time.
The time was 11:24 AM.
(Y/N) had slept for almost ten hours.
“Holy shit,” he grumbled. He put his phone down and stretched. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”
“You seemed tired,” Sam answered, and (Y/N) could tell that he was smiling by the way he spoke. Sam reached up and gently ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair. “Plus, you’re really cute when you’re sleeping.”
“That’s a little gay, don’t you think?” (Y/N) smirked.
“Maybe a little,” Sam chuckled before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips softly. “Do you mind if I use your laptop?”
“Sure, sure, yeah. I don’t mind.”
“Thank you. Are you going to go back to sleep?”
(Y/N) shook his head, yawning as he did so. “No. I need to get up. I’ll be out there in a little bit.”
“Alright, I’ll be in the library when you want to join me.”
“Sounds good, and just go ahead and leave the door open. The light will keep me awake.”
Sam gave a slight nod. He stood up from the bed, walked over to the desk, unplugged (Y/N)’s laptop, and made his way to the door. He propped the door open a little bit more before he moved down the hallway. Once he was out of his line of sight, (Y/N) stretched his arms above his head, letting out a small groan as his muscles began to wake up.
Ten minutes later, (Y/N) was awake enough to get up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched his arms once more, then stood up. He walked over to the shirt that he had discarded on the floor the night before and put it back on. When he was fully clothed, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
The faint smell of coffee still wafted through the air as he made his way into the kitchen. He could see there was still a tiny amount of coffee left from the pot that had been made that morning and he thanked the Lord that he had been so lucky. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and placed his hand on the side of the pot, feeling the warm heat radiating off of the glass. He decided that it was still hot enough to where he didn’t have to warm it up. He poured the remainder of the coffee into his cup before he walked over to the fridge. He put his favorite creamer and some sugar into the cup, stirring it lightly with a spoon until the color and consistency was one he desired.
When he was finished making his cup, he turned his back toward the kitchen counter and leaned against it. He took a sip, a small shiver running down his spine when the warm beverage coated his taste buds. (Y/N) basked in the comforting warmth for a moment before he took another sip. He stood in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, enjoying the peaceful silence.
(Y/N) pushed himself off of the counter and finally began to make his way toward the library. When he rounded the corner, he saw Sam sitting at the table, in the same spot that he had sat the night before. His eyes were glued to the computer screen in front of him, brows slightly furrowed in a concentrated expression. His left hand rested against his face while his right made small movements against the mousepad. A smile found its way onto (Y/N)’s face as he walked closer to Sam, moving to stand behind his chair. He placed one hand on his back as he leaned down and pressed a small kiss against Sam’s temple.
“So, what’re you-” (Y/N) started to ask before he stopped abruptly.
What he had assumed would be research on the screen at first was nowhere close to what was staring back at him. The smile slowly fell from his lips as he skimmed over the familiar words.
It was his novel.
He had forgotten to close it the night before.
Sam looked up at (Y/N) and cleared his throat. “Uh, um…you, uh…did you write this?” He asked, his voice and expression matching that of a child who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar before dinner.
(Y/N) licked his lips nervously as he shuffled a bit behind Sam. “Uh…yeah…” he said, his voice filled with uncertainty.
“I didn’t know you wrote. I mean, I knew you liked to read and that’s one of the things that I love about you, but I never knew you wrote your own stuff.”
“Well, I just…dabble here and there. It’s nothing really-”
“I like it.” Sam interrupted.
(Y/N) looked down at Sam, their eyes connecting. “Really?” He asked, surprised.
Sam nodded. “Yeah! I mean, I’m only on the second chapter, but the first chapter pulled me in,” Sam gave a small smirk as he chuckled.
Slowly, a smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips. He walked over, pulled the chair out that rested beside Sam, and sat down. He took another sip of his coffee.
“You haven’t gotten to anything important, yet. Trust me. It’s still in the works. This is only the first draft.”
“How long have you been working on this?”
“Two years? Maybe three, give or take. I’m not able to write all the time and sometimes I can be slow, especially if I decide to write after we finish a hunt.”
“You’ve got a lot written here,”
“Almost ninety-thousand words,” (Y/N) gave a brief nod. “It’s still not what I want it to sit at, but it’s coming along.”
“How many more chapters do you think you’ll need to finish it?”
“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “I’m writing the finale at the moment, but I guess it depends on if I want to add anything. Of course, I’m going to be taking some parts out and putting some other parts in that I had written down and thought of as I was writing, so I don’t know what the final word count will be, but I’m impressed with myself so far.”
“You should be!” Sam smiled as he reached over and placed a hand comfortingly on (Y/N)’s leg, rubbing his knee gently. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked to write?”
(Y/N) stared at the table for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I think the stories you told about your interaction with Chuck made me not say anything at first.”
“I hope you know that I wouldn’t have given you a hard time about this.”
“I know, I know,” (Y/N) nodded slowly. “Plus, I think that if I would have said something, I would have felt pressured to finish quicker than what I wanted because, knowing you, you would have asked to see what I had written.”
Sam smirked and chuckled. “I would.”
“And I would have to burst your bubble and say ‘No’ because I wanted to finish everything and go over everything before I let you look.”
Sam nodded. “I understand…” he trailed as he glanced back at the page that he was on. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
(Y/N) hummed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Probably. I do need help proofreading. Plus, I need an audience’s reaction. I already messaged Charlie and she said that she would give it a read when I was done.”
“So Charlie knew about it before me?” Sam asked exaggeratedly, placing a hand delicately on his chest to feign hurt.
(Y/N) snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, and she doesn’t bug me about it like I knew you would. She likes reading from time to time, but, and I’m sorry to say this Sam, but you are a book whore.” He chuckled.
“You know what? I take that as a compliment.” Sam said, tilting his head up in a proud manner.
“As you should.” (Y/N) leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable.
Sam licked his bottom lip as he glanced between (Y/N) and the computer screen. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Can I finish this chapter?”
(Y/N) pursed his lips in contemplation, furrowing his brows together. He reached over, saved the document, and then exited out of it. “No.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Come on,” he groaned.
“Sorry, Sammy, but maybe you should read faster next time.”
Sam sighed heavily and shook his head before he turned his body back towards the table. He paused for a minute. “Do you feel like writing right now?”
(Y/N) smirked and shook his head. “I need to relax for a little bit. I stayed up late last night writing.”
Sam nodded. “Do you promise you’ll let me read it once it’s done?”
“Sam, as soon as I am finished with the first draft and go over everything, I will print out all of the pages for you so that you can read it. That way I can make my revisions while you read over it. Deal?”
Sam smiled. “Deal.” He said as he leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re going to be one hell of an author, babe,”
(Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Sammy.” He said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Sam never realized how much those words meant to (Y/N). Sure, there was a part of him that thought those words to be true, but the other part of him was doubting himself every step of the way. Still, he persisted, working as hard as he could toward the dream that he wanted to become a reality. In that moment, (Y/N) knew that, if Sam Winchester believed that he was going to be a good author, then he was destined to be.
(Y/N) sat his coffee mug down on the table and gestured towards the computer.
“On second thought, let me have my computer,” he said, the smile still present on his lips. “I think I found my new inspiration.”