For a while now, it had been glaringly obvious to everyone in the bunker that you and Sam Winchester had feelings for each other. Even Dean had picked up on the unspoken connection, but he dismissed it as a harmless friendship because you both insisted you were just friends. Yet, anyone who saw the way you two looked at each other knew there was more to it. The stolen glances, the lingering touches, the way you both seemed to gravitate towards each other—it was undeniable. But you two didn’t indulge in the just friends facade, at least not when it was just the two of you.

Sam slipped quietly through the darkened halls of the bunker, the soft glow of the occasional wall light casting long shadows. He reached a familiar door and knocked softly, three times in a quick, secretive rhythm.

You opened the door, your face lighting up with a smile. "I thought you'd never get here," you whispered, stepping aside to let him in.

“Dean and I ran into someone during the hunt, and he wouldn’t let me get back here alone,” Sam replied, closing the door behind him. He moved closer, his tall frame casting a protective shadow over you. The dim light of your room flickered softly, casting a warm, intimate glow around the two of you. There was a palpable sense of urgency in the air, a desperate need to be together even if you were “just friends.”