This was by far one of the stupidest things Sam had gotten himself into. and he’s done a lot. This one, this one took the cake.

You were gorgeous, the way you carried yourself with such pride drew Sam in. No matter how hard he tried to pull himself back out, he couldn’t. Dean would kill Sam if he knew what Sam thought about everytime he looked at the shit-eating smirk that plastered itself on your lips.

Not to mention — you shot Sam’s shoulder. Yet, he still thought you were the most attractive woman he’d ever seen. He was twenty-three, not a teenage boy anymore. But he still felt like one around you.

After you stashed the colt from the Winchester’s once again, Dean, annoyed, dialed your number and told you to ‘stop being a bitch and come over’ so he could make you tell him where the colt was.

It wasn’t that easy, it never was with you.

When you walked in the door, after dean’s temper tantrum, you told him to ‘man-up’ and go find it himself. Sam found that way too hot than he should’ve.

Dean left ten minutes ago, you opted to say with Sam — of course after dean told you to not make a move on his little brother.

Now, you laid on Sam’s motel bed while he sat on the opposite one. You were on his motel bed, splayed out. Could this get any worse? He still didn’t understand why you stayed with him of all people. You did try to kill him after all.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, and eventually spoke up with a sigh, “Why did you stay with me?” Sam questioned, his hands fidgeting together in his lap.