sam always misses you so much, unbearably so, sometimes. he hates having to be gone, having to leave you when you’ve decided to not go on so many hunts. he’s glad you’re safer, but he doesn’t like for you to be alone.

back to back hunts have kept him away from the bunker for just over two weeks, and it’s practically killing him. you always reassure him over the phone, but he can hear it in your voice when you’re missing him and it pains him to know he can’t do anything about it but tell you he loves you and will be back soon. then he hears the sad smile in your voice when you say you love you back and ask for him to be safe. he wishes for a way to fix the fear that he might not come back at all. all he can do is send you updates and promise to be careful.

the door to the bunker bangs open, louder than sam intended for it to be. you’re sure to know that he and dean have arrived. today, you don’t run out into the map room from wherever you are to greet him before he’s even down the stairs like you normally do. instead, he hears your voice calling his name. you sound pleased that he’s here. he drops his bag on the map table, not bothering to shed his jacket before following your voice to the kitchen.

his eyes soften infinitely at the sight of you, standing by the counter and tossing a salad. he grins. “hi, honey. i missed you.”

you grin back and he’s already halfway across the room as you return the sentiment. “i missed you too, baby.” you’re about to part with the salad to hug him tight and kiss him long, but he wraps his arms around your waist from behind before you get the chance. he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, kissing you softly there.

he peeks at the salad. kale, butternut squash, feta, dried cranberries, lightly candied walnuts, red onions, with a vinegar dressing.

“you made my favorite,” he mumbles into your skin. he sounds so pleased and satisfied that it sends a jolt of happy pride through you. he’s tired, you can tell, but he certainly feels better now.