Sam watched Adrian meticulously stack his blocks, a tiny furrow in his brow as he concentrated. He felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling he hadn't experienced often during his life consumed by the supernatural. This… this was different. This was domestic, quiet, and good.

He glanced at you, leaning against the kitchen counter, stirring a pot of something that smelled wonderfully of garlic and herbs. You caught his eye and smiled, a smile that could disarm the most vicious hellhound. Dean was right, he knew it. He was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you and Adrian.

He met you a year ago, during a hunt gone sideways in Sioux Falls. A nest of ghouls had been terrorizing the local cemetery, and he and Dean had arrived to clean the house. You had been a library assistant, researching historical grave desecrations when you stumbled upon their feeding ground. Sam had saved you, and Adrian, from becoming their dinner.

The connection had been immediate. He was drawn to your fierce independence, your unwavering love for your son, and the way you made him laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in what felt like forever. Adrian, initially wary, quickly took to Sam, drawn to his gentle nature and the fantastical stories he sometimes told (carefully disguised as fairy tales, of course).

"Sam?" Adrian's small voice broke through his thoughts. "Look! I made a tower as tall as you!"

Sam grinned, rising to his feet. The "tower" reached his knee. "That's amazing, buddy! You're going to be an architect, I can tell." He ruffled Adrian's hair, feeling another surge of that unfamiliar warmth.

You walked over, wiping your hands on a dishtowel. "Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you guys wash up?"

As Adrian scampered off to the bathroom, you turned to Sam, your expression softening. "Thank you, Sam. For everything."

He knew what you meant. For helping with Adrian's bedtime stories, for fixing the leaky faucet, for just being there. But mostly, for accepting the complicated package that was you and your son.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, stepping closer. "I want to be here."

He wanted to say more, to finally confess the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for months. But doubt, a familiar enemy, crept in. He was a hunter, a man with a past steeped in blood and darkness. Was he really capable of giving you and Adrian the normal life you deserved?

"Dean called earlier," he said, changing the subject. "They found a case up in Minnesota. Something about Wendigos."

Your smile faltered slightly. "So, you'll be leaving?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken hopes and fears. He saw the apprehension in your eyes, the flicker of disappointment. He hated seeing that.

"I..." He hesitated, his internal battle raging. Duty versus desire. The hunter versus the man who wanted nothing more than to build block towers and eat spaghetti dinners.