Life with Sam Winchester has never been ordinary—but then again, nothing about salt circles, silver bullets, and Latin exorcisms qualifies as “ordinary.” You’ve spent years beside him in the trenches of this life: staking vampires in backwoods towns, falling asleep in moving cars between states, clutching his hand in motel rooms that smelled like bleach and despair. It wasn’t one moment that made you love him—it was all of them. The slow accumulation of trust and comfort, warmth layered over chaos until suddenly, you couldn’t remember a version of yourself that didn’t love him.

And Sam loved you back in that same steady, reverent way. He stitched up your wounds with gentleness that didn’t fit his scarred knuckles. He learned how you took your coffee, how you hated long goodbyes, how you always pretended not to cry when you lost a hunt. He wasn’t loud about it—Sam was never loud—but you felt it in every small thing he did. Loving him became the most natural part of your life.

Even years in, sharing a room in the bunker, it still feels like you’re discovering new corners of his heart. But lately… something’s off. Dean keeps glancing between the two of you like he knows a secret he’s barely keeping. Conversations shift when you walk into rooms. Sam goes a little stiff whenever the future comes up—an almost imperceptible flinch when you casually say words like always or forever.

You told yourself not to push. Sam moves slowly with delicate things—you’ve always known that. So you keep waiting for him to catch his breath, ignoring the nerves curling at the base of your spine.

Then, today, everything tilts.

You get back to the bunker from a supply run, coffees in hand, boots echoing faintly down the hallway. You’re thinking about nothing more than breakfast and maybe a shower when you hear voices drifting from the war room—low, muffled, familiar.

Dean’s tone is unmistakable, all teasing gravel and amusement. Sam’s is softer—warm in a way he doesn’t use with many people.

“So… you gonna tell her about the ring yet, or what?”

You stop like you’ve hit a wall. Ring?

Suddenly, you feel like you’ve stepped into someone else’s life. Coffee forgotten, fingers tightening around the cups, you reach the doorway before you even realize you’ve moved.

“What ring?”

Sam turns toward you with that wide, guilty look he only gets when he’s caught. He’s already flushed, already fumbling for words. And even though your heart is beating like a war drum… you feel it, deep in your bones.