Sam imagine requested by my-wayward-moose! This imagine has been edited for reposting, just to add details to my earlier writing. Hope you like it!
The lamp’s harsh white light was dying to a warm yellow as the bulb raced towards it’s expiration, staining the pages of your Ancient Civilizations textbook with honey-coloured hues. Your mug of coffee sent steam twisting above you in delicate, intoxicating tendrils, a gift from the gods to help you stay awake long enough to study for your final exams, your faithful-to-the-point-of-stupidity boyfriend Sam yawning beside you while tapping his pencil against a stack of scribbly notecards he had written up while you read. He was making his way through your syllabus, eyes squinting at the tiny text, his calloused hand rubbing his stubble-ridden jaw every now and again in concentration, the sound of his hardened palm scratching against the pin-pricks of hair surprisingly soothing. Then again, everything was relaxing on this tier of sleep deprivation. You could listen to rogue trains passing over glass through earbuds and still the sound would lull you to sleep. Castiel and Dean were making a fuss in the kitchen, gathering weapons and lore for the hunt they were planning against the monster they hadn’t named yet while you slaved away over material you would never apply to your lifestyle, Sam at your side, suffering with you. Your eyelids drooped as you attempted to tune the bustling out with the thrilling history of the River Nile’s irrigation systems, eyes scanning over lines of text, words swimming and blurring around their edges, ink smudging the letters into illegible masses on the page, your eyes stinging as you blinked, forcing yourself to reread the information staring you blank in the face.
Sam brought the rubber end of his pencil down into your line of sight, tapping the book with the worn down, graphite-smudged eraser, the extent of his efforts in helping you evident in the length of the utensil, which had been sharpened to no longer than your pinky finger, his actions jolting you out of your drifting state. He smiled wearily at you, eyes still twinkling despite his current level of consciousness, his brow raising as you yanked yourself from an exhausted stupor, clearly amused by the comedy of your disorientation, yet too far down the same road to laugh at your lack of concentration.
“Y/n, focus.” He reminded you, his voice low and gravelly, the effects of fatigue dragging you both down a warped tunnel with no visible exit outside of turning back towards the light and succumbing to slumber, a feat you could not tempt. You nodded, the weight of your skull increased by your sleepiness, offering the hunter a weakened smile. He slid the book from the desk before you, the cover slapping against inches of paper as he flipped the pages closed, his eyes on yours, determined to end both of your torment. “Alright. Tell me the significance of Ra.” You squeezed your eyes shut, acid scorching along your weary waterlines, your discomfort fueling your decision to pry them apart once more, though it would have been a simpler course to remain in the darkness and surrender to sleep. But Sam, the man who had sat by your side for the past two hours, was waiting for your answer. You leafed through pages upon pages of information within your brain, any tidbit you could remember about the sun god rising from the masses of knowledge you kept stacked in the recesses of your mind. You sipped your coffee, your hands pressing against the heated porcelain, allowing the mug to warm your palms as the caffeine spilled through your veins, the effects minimal after your fourth cup, driving your heartbeat no less. You parted your lips with intent to speak, but your words were shorn away by an elongated yawn, your ears buzzing with numbing electricity as you lifted a fist to your lips, covering your gaping mouth from Sam’s view. You smacked your lips, grumbling your reply.
“Sun god. He does the thing with the… he’s the king of them, right?” You slurred, eyelids hanging lower with each passing second. Sam let out a breathy chuckle, rolling his eyes before dropping his pencil and moving his hand to your arm, rubbing your goosebumps down into the smoothness you were accustomed to, his touch spreading warmth along your body, volts of fiery sparks firing into your organs.
“Focus!” He smiled at you, his voice more laugh than command, his hazel eyes glimmering dimly in the fading light of your motel administered bulb. You returned a sleepy grin, moving your messy hair out of your face, relocating your gaze to the multitude of papers littering the desktop, completely obscuring the faux-wood grain below with sheets of factoids and lesson plans your teacher had faxed to your computer.
A bag slammed down on the table, heavy with the sound of metal on metal, startling you from your work induced daze, your joints stiffening in fear at the intrusion. Dean smiled down at you, appearing painfully rejuvenated, his vigor almost insulting after the Hell you were putting yourself through.
“It’s an Arachne. We need you, Y/n. You fit the breeding profile and you’re the best of all of us with a machete.” Dean stated, scooting your notebook pages aside mapping out a display area for the weapons you had to choose from. Sam scoffed, his head tipping back at his brother’s lack of manners.
“Quick, which culture is the Arachne from?” Sam asked, his voice a sarcastic monotone, eyes glued to your notes, alerting you of his expectation for you to answer the semi-rhetorical question. Your response was rapid-fire, little thought put into it. After the hours you had put into branding trivia onto the tissue of your brain, it had better be knee-jerk. Any less would be cruel, at this point, You were sacrificing sleep and time with your lover, who was only ever home when the world wasn’t crumbling (which was always) to study.
“Greek. The chick who thought she was better at weaving than Athena, who in turn threw a bitch-fit and made Arachne, that’s the…“ Sam nodded in understanding, egging you on, Dean’s eyes shifting between the two of you in muted confusion. "Yeah, into a spider, so she could weave to her heart’s desire.” You mumbled nonchalantly, hoisting the mug to your lips, gulping down more coffee before turning to Castiel and Dean, your eyes drifting to acknowledge the angel standing stoically in the doorway. “I can’t hunt tongiht. I’m sorry. My finals are tomorrow and all I know about these civilizations are their lore and mythology, which wont do me jack on the exams.” You exhaled, directing your attention back to Sam, biting down on your lower lip to suppress another oncoming yawn, sleeping tendrils of relaxation creeping from your shoulders down your spine, easing you into- No. You were staying awake.
“You don’t understand. Your presence is mandatory. This monster lusts after women your age. Without you present, we have little to no chance of vanquishing it.” Castiel explained, voice urgent, face flat.The usual blunt exposition you’d come to expect from the angel. You sighed, clenching your jaw to shield the world from the onslaught of another unsightly, gape-jawed expulsion of air, shaking your head at their demands. This came first, occupational expectations aside. You’d be damned if you drooled all over your exam after reviewing this long. You hadn’t roasted your eyes in the fizzling light for kicks. These tests meant something to you, and they would have to figure out an alternative soolution on their own. You were ducking out of this one, claiming the role of deadbeat huntress.
“I really can’t do it, guys.” You insisted, yawning halfway through your statement, the tedious breath rendering your denial barely intelligible. Sam cracked the spine of your textbook as he reopened the pages, leafing through the glossy prints as Dean and Castiel stormed back into the kitchen to reevaluate their plans, the eldest Winchester grumbling under his breath about priorities and the unimportance of standardized testing.
“Can you tell me the relationship between Isis and Osiris?” Sam inquired, stealing your mug from beneath your fingers and draining the last few gulps while you halfheartedly giggled, his face squishing as he inhaled the drags, bitter notes surely aiding in his lust to desert you, though you knew he would remain by your side. He grinned at you, forcing comfort in your shared, sleepless scenario, masking a yawn with the back of his enormous hand. You obliged his questionnaire, raking your fingers along your scalp, relishing in the tickling sensation you found in doing so.
“Osiris and Isis were lovers. They judge the dead in the underworld after Osiris’ brother Set did… a thing,” you glanced at your lover, his lips tugging into an amused smirk at your inability to betray details, “and one of them died… maybe. I’m pretty sure Iris and Osiris were siblings, and they got married and had Horus or something. You know, the bird god.” Sam scootched his chair closer to yours, the arms a fading wooden facade, the man snuggling his face into your neck, his soft red t-shirt rubbing against your bare arms. You noted that his apparel was usually set aside for sleepwear, his hands circling around your waist, easing you into his chest, though you remained separated by your armrests.
“They were lovers, huh?” He whispered, stealing a soft kiss below your jaw, his sleepy voice draining your determination like he had pulled the plug from your bathtub with the mere muttering of words. Your lungs expelled their supply of air in playful frustration, your shoulders scrunching as you squirmed away, your fingers pushing him back into his chair. The distractions were coming in from all angles. Little did you know your own tutor would join the Dark Side.
“I thought you wanted me to focus?” You complained, vision bleary, your overtired eyes giving up completely on deciphering images, falling back on the display of light and color, each object in your view hazy like fog around the edges. Sam shrugged, straightening your notes on the table before creeping closer to you once more, his fingers toying with a strand of your hair, his interest level almost comical.
“I do,” he assured you, tilting his head to the side before delivering the second leg of his speech. “But I also really want you to get some sleep.” He explained, his smile clear in his voice, though his face was hidden by his position. The dying lightbulb flickered once more, a last strive for life, before perishing, leaving both you and Sam in near darkness, the only visible light emanating from the kitchen, accompanied by the stressed tones of Dean and Castiel arguing over strategy from beyond the wall. “And they do really need you for this one.” He said, his face appearing closer than you expected it to be when you finally turned your head to his, hazel irises eyes gleaming in the faint light. He pressed a sleepy, sloppy kiss to your cheek, lips drifting lazily to the corner of your mouth before finally planting themselves on your lips, his tongue tracing your lower lip with a patience matched only by his desire to rest, his exhaustion present in his every action. “We can hit up the Biology books in the morning before you leave, alright?” He promised over your lips, your mouths parting with a tentative suction sound, his warm hands on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your muscles, working out the knots they encountered there. “You have my word.” You exhaled, exhausted, as Sam lifted himself from the chair, your palm sliding into his outstretched hand, following him to bed, mumbling in to Castiel and Dean that you’d be down to hunt the cocky bitch during your lunch period… after your exam. You barely felt the springs as your body struck the mattress, your last waking memory the touch of Sam’s fingertips tracing along your cheekbones before you finally submerged yourself in long awaited slumber.