Chapter Text
knock knock knock
You jump a little and look at the door in confusion. Is it Sam and Dean? What do they need at this hour? You move to open the door and are surprised to see just Sam in your doorway, looking bashful.
He sighs. “Hey, this is really stupid and inconvenient but I just got back from town to a sock on Dean and I’s doorknob, the fucking asshole, and I was wondering if I could hang in here for a while?” He shuffles his feet a little in the fluorescent lights of the motel hallway. He looks stupidly cute in his comfortable clothes, some sweats and a hoodie. Of course, even the godawful lighting isn’t able to dim his handsome features. What the fuck? Stop noticing these things. It’s weird. You try to focus, and Sam continues; “I-I know it’s late but I promise I’ll be unnoticeable, I just wanna finish researching and the Impala is a little too tight of a fit with my laptop and-” You step aside and do a little come-on-in wave.
“Say no more, I have some premium real estate just for you in the form of one crappy sofa.” You pat the side of it like a car salesman trying to hook a customer. “Don’t worry, I checked and I’m fairly certain only two of those stains are blood. You can just sit on the other side!” You give him a thumbs-up.
Sam huffs a laugh and enters the room, shutting the door behind him. “And what are the stains on the other side, then?”
“Dunno. Grease? Jizz? It’s a motel couch, your guess is as good as mine.” You shrug, then quickly hide a smirk as a look of horror passes over Sam’s face.
“Fuckin’ fantastic. So my choice is between blood and jizz.” Sam groans.
“Sounds like a weekend to me, but to each their own,” you hum nonchalantly.
Sam goes red and coughs. “O-oh my god, y/n. You’re worse than Dean sometimes .”
You laugh, secretly kind of proud of that title. “Well hey, at least I’m not kicking you out of the room just so I can get my rocks off.”
Thankfully, Sam’s mouth manages to say something close enough to: “Haha yeah, small mercies,” that you hadn’t seemed to notice the dilation of his eyes as the sudden thought of you, roughly and thoroughly getting your rocks off, slams into the forefront of his mind.
“Anyways,” you say, oblivious to his inner battle, “I was just about to take a shower. Here, you can use one of the other towels to put on top of the couch cushions.” You hand him a towel. “There’s drinks and stuff in the mini-fridge, help yourself!” You say, disappearing into the bathroom.
A couple moments later, Sam hears the water turn on. He studiously tries to banish any and all perverted, horny, and just plain weird thoughts pertaining to you from his head. Keep it in your fucking pants, dude! She doesn’t want you. We’re finally on good terms again, don’t ruin it by sniffing after her like a goddamn animal.
Sam shakes himself out of it. He throws the towel down and plops down onto the worn sofa with a whump. He pulls out his computer to finish compiling all the leads that the three of you had found today while interviewing the victims’ families and friends (under the guise of being FBI agents). He’s nearly finished, and so engrossed in it that he doesn’t notice you finishing your shower and exiting the bathroom.
“What’re you working on?” He hears you say from over his shoulder and he looks up, trance broken.
“Oh, just notes from today.” He shuts his laptop. “But I’m basically done. Thank you for letting me crash here. Um-” He says, unsure of how to ask his next question.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna evict you because you’re done, you can stay here as long as you need.” You say breezily as you stroll to the mini fridge. He smiles. Well, that’s settled.
Then, he sees you hold up a bottle of… “Is that soju?” He asks you in faint surprise.
“Yep! They were having a crazy deal at the liquor store, so I got a bunch and some lemon juice too.” You emerge from the fridge with 4 soju bottles in your arms and a little squeeze bottle of lemon juice. “So, you in?” You grin at him.
He considers, but only for a second. Then he shrugs with a similar expression sliding onto his face. “Y’know what? Hell yeah. Deal me in.”
Your new collection of empty soju bottles grows steadily as you and Sam drink your way through the second Dune movie. He had blanched when you suggested a drinking game to the tune of; “Take a shot every time someone says 'Lisan al Gaib',” and he managed to talk you down from one full shot to a half shot each. Still, that was about…15 name drops ago, so the two of you are pretty thoroughly sloshed at this point.
“Damn, this is a long-ass movie,” Sam mutters. “I’m not complaining, but Christ, we’ve just barely made it halfway.”
“Who cares? I’m enjoying the view.” You say lazily and keep staring at Feyd-Rautha’s sculpted alabaster abs.
Sam scoffs. “What?That freak?? Come on, y/n, I thought you had taste.”
“I do too have taste,” you object, and then smack his arm when you register the scene on the TV. “Oh my god it’s this scene. Yes yes yes,” You chant quietly.
Sam squints at the TV and watches as Feyd-Rautha has his power negated by Lady Margot Fenring, a Bene Gesserit witch. He watches as she manipulates and seduces the ruthless killer with her Voice and her wits. But mostly, he watches you, out of the corner of his eye.
You must not have noticed, but you’re biting at your lower lip as you keep your eyes on the screen. Sam, though. Sam notices. He sees the tip of your tongue dart out to moisten those damned lips of yours.
And then he feels something wet on his own. He reflexively reaches up to touch his face, and when he pulls his hand away, it’s bloody.
“Oh shit-” He says, a little alarmed.
The alcohol may be dulling your senses, but nothing could prevent you from recognizing the metallic aroma of freshly spilled blood. You smell it permeating through the air, and quickly turn towards the source. You can’t help it, your mouth starts watering on instinct. “Where’s the- SAM??”
“Bloody nose,” Sam manages to say, the words partially muffled by his hand trying to stop the bleeding.
“I can see that,” you say slowly as you take in the situation. Sam, god, Sam smells delicious. Even more so than usual. “That’s hilarious, actually. You gonna jizz your pants too like some kinda virgin?” Your easy words belie the sense of purpose slowly washing over you.
In the very back of Sam’s mind, a version of himself is screaming at him to get the fuck out of there, what are you doing bleeding out in front of a fucking vampire?? But he immediately silences them. He trusts you, he really does. Plus, the whole magical collar thing means you literally can’t hurt him. Unless he wants you to. Which is why he ignores years of hunter training as he watches you slink closer.
“The air is dry, it wasn’t the movie,” He mutters, almost under his breath. But you can hear him, because, wait, why are you so close to him all of a sudden, you think. You’re right by his side, crowding him on the small sofa.
You snap back to reality. What the hell am I thinking? “R-right. Sure, dude. Lemme get some tissues.” You get up, mostly to put distance in between yourself and Sam.
But it also seems you’ve underestimated the amount of alcohol in your bloodstream. You stand and wobble a little. Sam holds out his hand as if to steady you, but you catch yourself. “Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m good.” You mumble as you step in between soju bottles to grab some tissues from across the room. You return the same way, and try to hand Sam the tissues but you must’ve tripped on a bottle cap or something, because suddenly you feel yourself falling.
“Whoa!” One moment you’re hovering above him, offering tissues, and the next, you’re accidentally straddling him on the couch, tissues scattered on the floor.
“Shit, sorry, I’ll get more-” you start to say, then you pause when you take in the sight of him.
He’s still trying (in vain) to stop the steady trickle of tasty, precious blood from his nose, but something about his generally rumpled and pathetic demeanor has you keening. That and the feel of him, huge and warm and absolutely filled with blood underneath you. God, you’re not gonna eat him.
But maybe… just a little taste, your traitorous mind hisses.
Father, forgive me, you think, for I know no way but the path to sin.