Chapter Text
“What kind of horrendous crime are you punishing me for again?” Sam grumbled sarcastically, holding up a flannel shirt like it was evidence in a courtroom.
“We shook on Christmas,” Jess called out from the hallway, her voice echoing through the doorframe as Sam stood there, preparing and choosing what clothes to bring on this little trip of theirs, his hair still wet from a shower he took earlier, even having used conditioner – Jess’ fancy one she kept at his place, he didn’t own any himself – everything and anything to make a good first impression.
“Yeah, Christmas. Not the whole weekend.” Sam tossed the shirt into a suitcase he had placed on his bed, eyeing it as if it might bite him.
Jess appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smirk. “please, not like Jesus went from dead to resurrected in a day either.”
“That’s Easter,” Sam replied, his eyebrow raised. “Pretty sure you’re mixing up your holidays here.”
“You’re the one who’s been talking to angels.”
“Angel. Singular,” Sam corrected, still folding. “Or so he claims. His duplicate or wife or something doesn’t count.”
Jess rolled her eyes and stepped into the room, her eyes darting to the clothes scattered on the bed. “Are you really packing the flannel?”
Sam looked down at the shirt in his hand, confused. “Something wrong with it?”
"No, no, don't get me wrong I think it looks good" her voice trailed "but I would hope you wear something more formal, less 'hillbilly giant' when we're having dinner with my mom.” She looked at him, then back at the clothes “I mean, if we’re going for ‘rugged lumberjack meets my family,’ it’s perfect."
“Your mom hasn’t even met me yet. Maybe she’s into the lumberjack aesthetic.”
Jess snorted. “God, I hope not. That’d be awkward.”
Sam’s fingers hesitated over the suitcase. “Just your mom, then?” He tried to keep it light, but there was a flicker of something in his voice, just barely noticeable.
“Wearing that? Yeah.” Jess’s tone remained casual, but she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She shifted slightly, then continued, "Pretty sure my dad would run for the hills and hide in his study when he sees me bring home another park-ranger-looking fella I'm afraid."
Sam frowned at the mention of her dad, pausing mid-fold. He hadn’t thought much about it until now, but meeting her family felt… big. Like an unspoken milestone they’d both been tiptoeing around even after they had both agreed that this was actually going to happen. He shook his head, getting rid of the thought, then chuckled, throwing the flannel blouse at her "fine" he said as he watched her clumsily catch it mid-air with a smirk "no flannel then. Turtleneck?"
Jess remained silent.
"What?"
"You want to look like an English professor merged with a highschool jockey?"
Sam frowned.
"Again," Jess clarified "I'm into it but-"
"But you want me to wear a Hawaiian shirt?" Sam interrupted with a smirk.
"wait- you own clothes with actual colors?"
Sam’s lips quirked into a smile This banter, this ease—it felt good. Like they were back at the start of their relationship, trading playful jabs, back when everything was light, unburdened by the future.
"So do you want me to wear the hide-your-daughters flannel or the my-girlfriend-thinks-I-look-hot one?" he asked.
Jess pretended to think long and hard before she answered, her lips perched “You could show up in a paper bag, and my mom would probably still think you’re charming.”
Charming. Sam’s smile faltered just for a second. He had heard that word before, and not always as a compliment. “Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, half-joking.
Jess chuckled, turning to head back to the living room. “Right, because that is sooo hard to do.” She paused by the door, glancing over her shoulder. “Just hurry up, okay?
Sam watched her disappear down the hall, his grin fading into something more contemplative as he turned back to the suitcase. Charming. There it was again. The word people used when they weren’t sure if they could trust you. Surface-level. He knew it well—too well That was the word, wasn’t it? The one people used when they weren’t sure if you were actually good, the thing you used to cover up the mess underneath. He had gotten good at charming. Too good, maybe. But this wasn’t some game. Jess wasn’t just some girl he could charm his way around. Her parents weren’t just a set of people he had to impress for a weekend and then forget about. This was different. This was real. He wasn’t his brother.
His hands stilled over the suitcase, and he felt the urge to stop packing altogether. Every shirt he folded reminded him of another time he’d packed up, ready to run. His life had been a series of suitcases—always moving, always drifting from one place to another, from one life to another, never sticking around long enough to actually stay.
Not only would this be Sam's first time meeting Jess' parents, this would also be their first mini-vacation, and the first suitcase Sam packed that wasn't meant for the corner of some smelly motel room or new temporary house, it was an actual suitcase meant for an actual vacation and if he had to be honest he didn't know if that made him feel scared or relieved. Let's face it he wasn't particularly beloved by fathers anyway, what if her dad hated him? What if he wasn’t enough for Jess? What if they weren’t ready? What if this was a mistake? Thinking like that a thousand new ways he could and would fuck this up filled his brain, Sam only snapping out at it at the sound of the radio Jess had turned on in the other room turning to the afternoon-news.
‘local police state it’s the strangest crime scene they have seen in the last -‘
By the sound of it Jess was quick to switch the channel, some pop number instead filling the apartment, an unspoken understanding between those present that news was not something to be listened to or really spoken about, the constant need for information and awareness having been a hard habit for Sam to kick. Now too, no matter how hard he wanted it not to be his first thought was about what could possibly be the thing running loose and how Dean would likely have heard or read the same now or not that long ago. Good thing the location mentioned was nowhere near the city Jess had said her parents lived. Sam grinned, hearing Jess scuffle back to the bedroom. Maybe to check on him, maybe to just talk about his clothes again, he didn’t know, in either case he readied a shirt in his hands, ready to throw it at her when she entered, a mischievous glint in his eyes tho he did put the item back down once he saw Jess’ face.
“Coming yet?” she asked, an apologetic but happy smile on her face “they are going to think we like cold food if we don’t get there in time.”