Sam rarely had time for himself. None of you really did, so he was making the most of it. He'd noticed you cleaning out your bags, and figured he'd sit with you on the motel floor and clean out his duffel bag too. Lord knows he hadn't gotten the chance in awhile, and he tended to accumulate lots of worthless junk. Like a certain old piece of chocolate that he'd just pulled out with a grimace. He glances up at you for a moment, smiling as he watches your forehead crease as you try to perfectly fold your sweaters. She's so beautiful. He thinks to himself, biting on his lip nervously. He had no idea why he was still a wreck around you. You'd been together almost two years, but he still got all clammy and shy. Sam reaches back into his unorganized duffel bag, sifting through it and whining as his finger gets cut on a stray piece of paper. He pulls it out, his hazel eyes going full blown puppy as he stares at the picture. He remembered printing it awhile ago, meaning to put it in his wallet. He had a different picture of you in there now, since he thought he had lost the one he was holding.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart."

Sam whispers, almost to himself. You look up, glancing down at the picture in his hands with a smile.

"Don't you have enough pictures of me already?"

Sam stiffens.

"No."

He instantly replies, giving the picture another longing glance before shoving it into his pocket.

"No, I don't have enough."