A/N: I’ve never experienced anything like this first-hand, so hopefully I did the scenario justice. Let me know if you liked it!
Request: Hello! I heard you need some Sam requests and I’m a huge! Sam!girl. I was thinking, what if the reader and Sam go on a case somewhere and there happens to be a major earthquake and the reader gets hurt…? Btw I love your blog! 😘😍
The waitress walked over with her pen already pressed to her pad.
“Just so y’all know,” she started to speak in a bubbly voice, “we close in an hour.”
You nodded, beginning to notice how the diner was mostly empty except for the three of you and the staff. While she took your orders, you slid off your sweatshirt and rolled it up, placing it on the other half of the booth seat.
Freshly showered post-hunt, the three of you decided to grab some dessert before hitting the road in the morning. You watched as Dean picked at the disposable jelly container, no doubt ready to stick his finger in it and eat it plain, while Sam busied himself with unwrapping the napkin around the utensils. You noticed how his hair was still damp.
“How’s that cut doing?” Sam asked suddenly, ripping your from your thoughts. You looked down at your arm and peeled back the bandage a bit.
“Not too bad.” You stated as you stared at the dried blood around it, “Thanks to your stitching skills.” His lips turned up at the edges just as the waitress came over with a platter of five plates.
“What did you order?” You looked at Dean as she set down three plates in front of him.
He shoved his fork into a slice of pie, “All three kinds.” He smiled down at his food and began to shovel it into his mouth. Rolling your eyes at him, you reached for the mug of coffee and took a slow sip of it.
“Mm,” You savored the taste of it, “This has got to be the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
Sam raised a brow at you, “Better than Jones’s?”
Just the mention of that coffee houses’ name sent your mind spiraling as memories of what could have been penetrated your mind.
Sam’s smiling face as he laughed with his hand gripping your thigh. You were hardly able to breathe from his story, laughing alongside him while pressing your forehead to his shoulder as laughter bubbled out from your throat. The coffee you both ordered had long since been finished, and the waitress came over with a fresh pot, smiling at the two of you enjoying yourselves. You remember the feeling of his nose brushing against yours as you raised your head, accidentally brushing your face against his as you did.
“Nothing was better than Jones’s.” You stated, keeping your eyes trained on his. Dean looked between the two of you, his lips parting as if to ask a question when his arm jolted along with practically everything else in the diner.
“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as your mug went spilling across the floor. Pieces of the porcelain shook against the tiles, and you watched as the waitress who served you began to panic.
Before anyone could say anything else, the floor shook violently beneath your feet and Sam tried to reach out to grab you.
The windows shattered as ceiling tiles made their way to the floor with a crash.
“Go to the door!” You heard Sam shout.
The chairs you were just seated in fell to the ground and you dropped to the floor, dodging a large metal tube dropping from the ceiling.
“Fuck.” You hardly said and raised your head to try and find Sam. You began to crawl towards the door when a table fell over you.
Screaming from the other side of the building filled your ears and it was impossible to concentrate on getting out.
“Sam!” You shouted. You gripped the edges of the table as tightly as you could and began heaving it off of you when another jolt hit the ground and your body was tossed against the wall; your head hit the wall and blinding pain traveled from that point to the rest of your head.
You groaned from pain, trying your best to push yourself back onto your feet, but the table wasn’t moving.
Messily, you moved your hair away from your face and put all your effort into breathing with the weight of the table still digging into your side. The back of your head burned and you pressed your fingers to it, drawing back blood. Darkness began to creep into the corners of your eyes and you knew what was coming next. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut.
When you finally came too, all you heard were sirens and an immense amount of shouting.
“Careful!” You heard a familiar voice. You opened your eyes and saw two strangers hovering above you, fastening you into a gurney.
You tried to lift your head when you were pushed back down.
“Hey!” Sam shouted at the paramedics as they handled you.
“Sam.” You whispered.
“Everything’s alright.” You felt his hand slip into yours and you squeezed tight.
“Are you?” You asked before being lifted into the back of an ambulance. He hopped in behind you without asking them and squeezed himself onto the bench. His knees were pressed against the metal of your bed.
“Dean?” You asked, “Is he-”
“He was already taken to the hospital, he got hit real bad.” He said, eyes dropping to the floor.
You tried to swallow but your throat was to dry and you winced.
“How are you,” you paused and turned as much as you could to look at him, “OK?”
He gripped your hand tightly, more than you’d like, but you didn’t say anything.
“When the quake hit, I tried getting to you but we were separated by an entire booth that crashed to the floor. I got under the back of it, and it took all the blows for me.” He explained.
You tried to nod but one of the EMT’s was holding your head in place. Sam noticed the blood caking on the pillow beneath you.
“You’re bleeding.” You said, staring up at his forehead.
“Not as much as you.” He said.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence. You listened as the medic’s spoke to each other, but nothing processed. By the time you arrived to the hospital, your eyes fell shut again.
Sam situated himself outside of your room after he had checked on Dean. It felt like days, but within an two hours, he was allowed back into your room.
“She has mild head trauma, but it’ll heal.” The doctor spoke to Sam, who’s eyes were glued on your figure in the bed. “She also had stitches down on her thigh where what looks like glass had cut her. She may develop bruising as well around her ribcage where the paramedics reported a table had pinned her down.”
Sam inhaled sharply nodded, taking the bottle of pills the doctor prescribed for your pain. “Thanks.”
The doctor nodded and ducked out of the room. Sam watched the heart monitor beep, finding solace in the constant noise.
“Hey.” He whispered once you opened your eyes, and you smiled.
“How’s Dean?” You asked.
“He’s good. He’s got some cuts, but that’s about it.”
You nodded and began to sit up. Sam quickly grabbed another pillow and shoved it behind your back. You looked down at the blanket and began lifting it up.
“Jeez.” You looked at the cut running down your thigh. “You could stitch it better than this.” You cracked a smile and Sam responded with a laugh.
“How’s your head?” He asked.
“I’m fine, Sam. Promise.” You said and he clenched his jaw. “Seriously, relax.”
He sighed and continued to look at you.
“What?” You asked.
“You scared me.” He stated slowly.
You reached for his hand and laced your fingers with his. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Wisps of his hair tickled your neck and you smiled.
You tugged on his sleeve and pulled him back down, meeting his lips with your own. His hand found your jaw and he cupped your face gently.
“Now can we please,” You begged against his lips, “get a fresh cup of coffee?”
AN: Super secret project of mine, I’ve been thinking about this for awhile and since I was stuck on The Wedding Singer I decided to churn this out. It’s only going to be two parts. Thank you to my babe @toppunks for reading this over for me and encouraging me and being an all around super human being who I love so much! I hope you like, let me know what you think so far. The mythology here is borrowed from real life and some of it will be made up just an FYI.
You sat on the hood of the jeep, Stiles’ sweatshirt hanging off your frame as you gazed out over Beacon Hills from the lookout. Your best friend was sprawled out beside you, long limbs dangling off the side of the vehicle.
“Did you have a good birthday?” He asked, his eyes flitting over to you as you tucked your knees into the sweatshirt with the rest of your body.
“Yeah, thanks to you.” You glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“Well, it’s not every day you turn 18, you know.”
You snorted. “Guess not.” You yawned widely.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” He slid off the jeep, his hands coming to grip your hips and lift you, placing your feet on the ground.
You pitched forward, arms wrapping around his middle. “Thanks, Stiles.”
He hugged you back, his lips brushing your hair. “Any time, Fish.” You smiled at the nickname, before letting go and climbing in the car.