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The bunker was still. Absolutely still. The only sound that echoed throughout the long halls was the hiss of electricity that coursed through the air. That, and the soft snores that flowed past the cracked bedroom door. (Y/N) lay in bed on his side, his right arm stretched out underneath his head while his left one was curled up over his stomach. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, which allowed the snores to escape from his parted lips. The blanket had been kicked off of his body hours ago and was draped over his calves. He slept peacefully, calmly.
That was until the shrill sound of his ringtone echoed throughout the silent room.
(Y/N)’s eyes shot open quickly as he lifted his torso off of the bed. His widened eyes looked around the room, still half-glazed with sleep before they landed on his phone. He reached over, grabbed the phone, and brought it closer to his face. He squinted to read the name on the screen. When his vision didn’t clear, he resorted to rapid blinking.
My Moose Calling…
(Y/N) accepted the call and laid back on the bed. “Hello?” He answered in a deep, gravelly tone.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Sam’s voice came through the receiver.
“Hey, babe,” (Y/N) ran a hand down his face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s good. I just wanted to call and let you know that Dean and I finished the hunt. We should be heading back soon.”
“Good, good, that’s, um…that’s good.”
“You alright? You sound…out of it.”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, uh…” (Y/N) trailed as he adjusted himself on the bed so that he was lying on his side. He reached down, grabbed the blanket, and wrapped it around his body. He felt himself relax into the bed once again. “I just woke up is all.”
“You just woke up? Have you been sleeping all day?”
“I don’t know. What time is it?”
“Almost seven o’clock.”
“In the morning?”
“At night. ”
“Oh…” (Y/N) chuckled. “I guess I have been. When did we last talk?”
“This morning. Around five or six.”
“Yeah, I think I got up and did a couple of things, but then my shoulder started hurting. I took some of those pain meds you gave me and they kind of knocked me out.”
“Is your shoulder still hurting pretty bad?”
“Not right this second, no,” (Y/N) reached up with his free hand and caressed his shoulder gently.
On the last hunt, (Y/N) and the Winchester brothers had gone after a werewolf. It was only a single werewolf, yet it was one of the strongest that they had ever fought against to date. He easily towered over Sam, but he could move as quickly and gracefully as a gazelle. The group had gotten beaten up pretty badly, but not as much as (Y/N) had. As a result of the fight, (Y/N) had dislocated his shoulder and he was pretty certain he had torn a couple of muscles in his arm as well.
Due to those injuries, accompanied by the gashes across his body from the werewolf’s claws, the three of them came to the agreement that it would be a good idea for (Y/N) to sit out the next couple of hunts until he was fully recovered. He was stuck on research duty until further notice. He wasn’t necessarily happy about it, but he knew that it was better than making his injury worse. His shoulder already hurt like hell, and he couldn’t even imagine it being any worse than what it already was.
“That’s something, at least. That werewolf got you pretty good, didn’t he?”
“Sure did, hairy son of a bitch,” (Y/N) mumbled, which earned a chuckle from Sam on the other end. (Y/N) smirked. “So, how did the hunt go?”
“It went well. He wasn’t as good of a witch as he thought he was.”
“Did he monologue?” (Y/N) snorted.
“Oh yeah. Monologued until the second he died. We learned a lot about why he killed those women. Turns out, they were all women who had a relationship with him at some point, but got scared off when he asked them to, uh, dress up during sex.”
“What? Were they all vanilla or…”
“He asked them to dress up as his mother.”
“What!?”
“Yeah,” Sam let out a short, dry laugh. “Turns out, he had some weird Norman Bates obsession with his mother. ”
“Aw,” (Y/N) whined. “I wish I could have been the one to kill Norman Bates.”
“That wasn’t the only thing. When we found him, he was in the basement of his house-”
“Don’t tell me he went full-on Norman Bates and had his mother’s corpse in the basement.”
Sam was silent.
“He did not !”
“He did. ”
“Oh God, that’s gross,” (Y/N) grimaced and shook his head. “Maybe I’m glad I didn’t go.”
“It was quite a sight, to say the least.”
“I bet. A hunt strange enough to haunt your nightmares for weeks.” (Y/N) dramatically shivered.
Sam chuckled. “Yeah. It’ll - oh, hey, Dean says he’s ready. We’re going to head out now, alright? I’ll give you a call a little later?”
“Alright, babe, sounds good. How long do you think it’ll take to get back?”
“Not that long. Probably six or seven hours?”
“Okay, well, I’ll be up and waiting for you. Unless I have to take some of that medicine again.”
“Alright, sweetheart,”
“Love you, and I’ll see you later.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
At the words, (Y/N) froze. He didn’t even have a chance to say anything before Sam ended the phone call. He sat in bed, stunned, eyes wide as he stared ahead at the wall, the phone still pressed against his ear.
(Y/N) never liked the word ‘bye’. Even as a child, it was instilled in his brain that ‘bye’ was never a word you said to someone you loved and cared about. Never say it to family, never say it to friends, and, especially, never say it to your partner. ‘Bye’ was forever, a small, simple word that meant you were parting ways. That you were never going to be seeing one another again. ‘See you later’, a departing phrase that (Y/N) grew up using, meant you were going to see each other again. No matter how long you were apart, you would always come back together in the end.
(Y/N) told Sam almost as soon as their relationship started how he felt about the word. He hated whenever he used to hear it from Sam because he would get the dreaded thought in his head that he was never going to see him again. Sam had promised to never say it. He would always say ‘See you later’ or ‘See you soon’. For years, that was how they ended each of their phone calls.
Until today.
(Y/N) was unsure how to feel at that moment. He felt hurt, he felt worried, but, at the same time, he felt pissed. He felt irritated at Sam for making him feel like that. Sam knew how strong (Y/N)’s opinion on the word was, but he had said it so casually to end the conversation. A part of (Y/N) knew that Sam might not have meant to say it, that it was just something that came out, but there was also the other part that knew they had not ended their talks with the word ‘bye’ in so long, that he couldn’t understand how Sam could have slipped up.
As he sat up in the bed, he leaned against the headboard, pillows stacked behind him to give his back some support. He placed one of his hands in his lap as he called Sam back. His jaw clenched, he put the phone against his ear and waited. It didn’t take long for Sam to pick up.
“(Y/N)? Is everything okay? I said I would-”
“Samuel Winchester, what the hell did you say to me?” (Y/N)’s voice was deep, his tone coming off as a parent scolding a child.
Sam hesitated. “Um…I, what?”
“When you ended our phone call. What the hell did you say to me?”
There was another beat of silence from the other end of the phone. Soon, Sam sighed. “Shit…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“I’m sorry, (Y/N). It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t thinking-”
“I know it has. It’s just- you know how I feel about that word.” (Y/N)’s voice was softer then.
“I know, sweetheart, and I didn’t mean to say it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I know that you hate hearing me say that word and I should have been thinking.”
“Sam, you’re tired, it’s okay. I’m not mad, I was just…shocked.”
“I know, I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”
(Y/N) poked his tongue into his cheek. While he appreciated the apology Sam gave, and he knew that Sam didn’t mean to use the word, he couldn’t help the feeling of anxiety and worry in the pit of his stomach.
“Do you…Do you think that we can text while you drive back? Just so…just so I know you’re okay?”
“Of course we can. We can even stay on the phone longer if you want.”
“I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t think I’ll be able to survive listening to Dean’s stupid classic rock for hours on end. It’s been a pretty nice break with this injury.” (Y/N) smirked.
Sam chuckled. “Yeah, Dean’s music can get pretty annoying at times - Hey!”
“Hey, I resent that. My choice of music is amazing.” Dean said into the phone, making it evident that he had snatched the phone from his brother.
(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Listening to the same shit over and over again gets tiring, Dean. You’re slowly making me hate Metallica.”
“Hey! No one hates Metallica!”
“Whatever you say, idiot. Now give the phone back to your brother and watch the damn road.”
(Y/N) heard Dean grumble incoherently under his breath before the phone was returned to Sam. “Sorry about that,” Sam said.
“Don’t worry. I just like getting under his skin.”
“I can tell.”
(Y/N) chuckled. “I’ll let you go, though. Text me?”
“I will, sweetheart.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later .” (Y/N) emphasized his words.
“I’ll see you soon.”
With a content smile, (Y/N) ended the phone call.
For the entirety of the drive home, Sam texted (Y/N), calling now and then so that (Y/N) could hear his voice. Meanwhile, (Y/N) kept himself busy throughout the bunker. Whenever he felt the familiar pool of anxiety appear in his gut, he would shoot Sam a text or give him a call and he immediately felt it diminish by how quickly Sam was to respond.
In the early hours of the morning, Sam and Dean returned, and (Y/N) felt the worry wash away from him as if it had never been there in the first place. Sam immediately wrapped his arms around his boyfriend while Dean shot him a glare as he stumbled tiredly to his room. For the rest of the night and most of the morning the next day, Sam and (Y/N) lay in bed together, their limbs entangled with one another. Feeling the warmth of Sam’s body confirmed to (Y/N) that he was indeed there with him and that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.