The hunt had been brutal, leaving all of you battered, exhausted, and craving the safety of the bunker. By the time you stumbled inside, you were ready to collapse.

Sam must’ve felt the same way because he immediately flopped onto the couch, tugging off his boots. “I’m not moving for the next 12 hours,” he muttered.

You nodded, too tired to argue, and collapsed beside him. You leaned against Sam’s broad shoulder, his ridiculous warmth seeping into your side. He shifted slightly, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in an instinctively protective gesture. You blinked up at him, and he gave you a small, tired smile.

“You okay?” he asked softly.