“Need any help with that research?”
Sam looked up from his laptop. “Uh, I’m actually done now, but, um, thanks Y/N.” He finished typing a few last things, rubbed his hands on his jeans, and gave you a shy smile. The playful manner in which your lips curled up to smile back took an immediate effect on Sam: his pulse quickened, the air he breathed turned stifling, and, he became keenly aware of the fact that it was just you and him in the bunker’s library. Alone.
You took a swig from the beer bottle in your hand and moved to stand behind him. “Alright,” you said, casually resting a hand on Sam’s tense shoulder. “Let’s see what you got.”
Sam swallowed hard, eyes widening. As you read quietly to yourself, he struggled to keep himself relaxed under the lack of space between you, to appear absolutely neutral to your touching him. No leg bouncing, no hand twitching, easy breathing…the lack of response on his part was almost convincing, credible enough to make you wonder if you were truly having no effect on him whatsoever.
You bent forward to take a closer look at the screen, your middle pressing snug against his back. “Ugh, I can’t read that last paragraph, do you mind if I take a seat?”
Sam figured you meant to sit on his chair, or any chair for that matter. He was about to get up, let you have his place, when you sat on his lap.
“Oh, I see!” you chuckled, your eyes squinting at the text. “It says “death”, not “breath”. How awkward would that be, huh?”
A soft, almost imperceptible grunt escaped Sam. His arms, like the rest of his body, were paralysed, hanging taut at his sides. Were you actually trying to kill him here? Or did you really have no idea about the things you did to him? About how desperate he was to tell you the truth but hadn’t yet found the courage to?
“Hey,” a voice drawled. “What are you kids doing?”
You squeaked, taken by surprise by Dean’s voice. Sam, caught up in his thoughts, was also startled, and his hands automatically went to your waist, ready to move you if needed. Dean saw this and smiled teasingly.
“Never mind me, you guys keep doing…whatever you were doing.” He winked at you and went up the stairs to leave the bunker. The silence that followed after the door shut closed broke as you cleared your throat and got up from Sam’s lap.
“I–um–I’ll let you finish that,” you said quietly. Dean’s words had only reminded you that this was all just teasing, that you could never get Sam to admit how he felt about you; and worst of all, it reminded you how damn scared you were to tell him the same.
“Wait.” A warm, calloused hand took your wrist and prevented you from taking another step. The feeling of butterflies was an understatement to what you were experiencing in that moment. What was he going to say?
Sam took a deep breath, a feeble attempt to calm down the hard and fast thumping of his heart. “Would you, uh, would you go out with me?”
* * *