Work Text:
Sam loved the library, he could spend centuries in there surrounded by the hundreds of books in the building, some collecting dust and never seeing the light of day. Even when stressed, he found it calming, peaceful even if his brother would always lean back in the wooden chairs with his legs propped up on the table doing anything but help his baby brother with his research.
You loved the library too, you found it peaceful and calming even when the building was full of excitable toddlers and young children eagerly awaiting storytime with wide grins and sparkly eyes. The library was your safe place that you sometimes spent a little too much time hiding in.
You were tucked away behind a corner desk with your glasses sliding down your nose when you noticed a tall gentleman slowly approaching you, his movements a little clumsy like a baby deer.
She’s beautiful and those glasses..
“What can I help you with?” you smiled up at him, pushing your glasses back up to the bridge of your nose.
Sam smiled back at you, flashing his white teeth at you, “Uh,” he swallowed hard, “I’m looking for any local information on this.”
Sam pushed a piece of paper across your desk, you looked down at a collection of sporadic notes scribbled across in frantic handwriting, mentioning creatures you’d only heard about in online conspiracy theory forums or folklore books until you focused on it.
Wendigo.
You raised an eyebrow, “a wendigo?”
Sam's cheeks flushed a little, “Yeah, just wanted to know what your local legend was all about..”
The Wendigo was no legend. You had a close call with one in the woods when you were a child on a camping trip with the girls guides, and although luckily none of you were hurt, you know what you saw and no amount of gaslighting from your camp leaders would ever make you doubt what you witnessed that night.
“Well,” you sighed, pushing the paper back to him, “I can promise you…?”
“Sam.”
Sam. A cute name for a cute guy.
“Well I can promise you, Sam, that the Wendigo is no local legend.”
Leaving your desk you escorted Sam towards the other end of the library, he followed closely behind, trying to keep up with you and the new spring in your step.
“Why do you say that?” Sam asked.
“When I saw a little girl,” You reached up on your tiptoes for the large leather bound book, the sight of you doing so made Sam smile and he cheekily caught a glimpse of your behind, “I went camping and saw it, for years they kept telling me I was lying but…”
You turned around, catching Sam quickly forcing himself to look up at the high ceiling of the library. “I know what I saw.” Your cheeks went hot and prickly, but you didn’t mention anything and instead took the compliment in silence, you opened the book without checking the page numbers and handed it to him.
Sam stared at the pages, his cheeks also feeling hot and prickly.
Something about Sam drew you in and all you wanted was to know more about him, even if it became more physical than verbal, and something about you made Sam feel protective over you, as if you were a rare and precious, enchanting artefact.
“You’re hunting this thing, aren’t you?”
You weren’t stupid, you’d heard the whispers of hunters and their impressive list of personal kills and read their frightening stories in an underground paper about their encounters with vampires, demons, and other beings you couldn’t quite believe existed.
Sam stared at you for a moment, stuttering, caught completely off guard.
“I uh, how’d you, that’s not…”
The corners of your lips curled upwards, “You are! I knew it.” You tried your best to keep your voice down.
“I’m really not, this researching it’s just a hobby.” Sam’s eyes fell to your lips, he couldn’t look away.
“That’s bullcrap and you know it!” You wouldn’t let him have it, “I want in. You’re one of these hunters and I’ve been left in the dark about this thing for almost twenty years. I’m coming with you!”
Dean got nowhere trying to squeeze the cellphone number out of the barista and eventually threw the towel in, sipping on his overpriced black coffee and gripping onto Sam’s when he entered the library.
Sam scoffed, “It’s too dangerous and you have no experience out there!” he protested.
Dean followed his little brothers voice and quickly hid behind a large bookcase, lowering his head and listening in carefully.
“But I know what you’re looking for, I know the area, I know what it looks like, I’ve seen it myself!” you were quick to argue and crossed your arms, staring through your glasses at Sam.
Your attempt to be stern didn’t work on Sam, and the enhanced size of your eyes through the lens of your glasses only made you more endearing to him.
Sam shook his head, his mouth opened and slightly tilted, “And I don’t care, you’re not going out there.” He reached out and grabbed your arms, pushing himself closer to you, squeezing your arms but not enough to cause pain.
Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together and he squinted, focusing on the two of you.
The building tension finally snapped and Sam let out a frustrated huff and pressed his lips against yours, you rapidly uncrossed your arms and kissed him back, your soft lips attacking his as your hands frantically found themselves getting tangled in his hair.
Sam deepened the fierce kiss when you allowed him, his tongue slipping into your mouth and brushing against yours .His hands gripped you tighter, and he pulled you into him as close as you could be, leaving you with goosebumps up your spine and down your arms.
Your breathing became ragged and the quiet library became full of the sound of your clothes rustling against his, along with your uneven breathing and your soft moans. You didn’t want him to let go as your hands explored his hair and scalp further, the sensation of your soft fingertips against him made Sam groan against you, the vibration from his throat tickling your lips.
Dean watched with wide eyes, downing more of his coffee, rather proud of his brother and entertained to see him in action.
“Gotta give you credit, Sammy,” he muttered under his breath, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Sam finally pulled back, the two of you a gasping mess with each others mixed saliva coating your lips. Your chests were heaving and as you untangled your fingers from Sam’s hair, he reached out and gently straightened your glasses, taking his time, savouring the moment.
“I can’t let you go out there,” Sam murmured sweetly with a twisted smile playing on his lips.
You sighed and rolled your eyes, “Fine, but do me a favour?” you asked, pulling out a pen and grabbing his large hand.
Sam watched as you began to scribble numbers over the palm of his hand.
“Call me when you’re done with it, so I know you got out alive.” You finished, tucking the pen behind your ear.
Sam grinned, looking down at your number inked on his skin, “Yeah, I’ll call.”