Hi, how are you?
I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please
Hey, lovely!
I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...
Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.
Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty
Word Count: 1,600
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining
Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.
When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.
But also cautious.
He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.
And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.
That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.
He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.
You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.
You're wonderfully weird.
And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.
Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.
You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.
Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.
He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...
And yet.
He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.
You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).
But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)
It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.
And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.
Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.
Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.
"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.
You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.
"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.
Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.
"They're cute," he adds.
You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.
"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.
"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.
"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."
You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"
He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.
"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.
"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."
"Hey, at least I'll die happy."
"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.
"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.
You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"
He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."
"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.
Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.
Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.
"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.
You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.
"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."
"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.
Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.
Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.
It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.
He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.
Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.
There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.
But it's you.
"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.
"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"
"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.
"Thanks," he says.
You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.
Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)
"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.
This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?
You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"
Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.
Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."
"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.
Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.
"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.
You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.
It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.
Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.
When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.
Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.
You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.
Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.
You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.
With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.
Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.
He finds that and more when he looks up at you.
He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.
"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.
"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.
You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."
Sam takes you at your word.
AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!
(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)
Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."
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