You were used to Sam and Dean crashing at your place when cases popped up near your town. It wasn’t glamorous- your couch groaned in protest every time one of them flopped onto it but it was comfortable. Familiar. Safe. Well… mostly.

There was that one time Sam, in all his tall, clumsy glory, knocked over your favorite vase. It wasn’t some priceless heirloom or sentimental trinket- it was just… beautiful. Something you liked. And watching it shatter across the floor had tugged at your heart a little. You’d waved it off with a tired smile, told Sam it was fine, but he’d looked like you’d stabbed him in the soul with a jagged shard.

You figured he’d forgotten about it.

Spoiler: he did not.

Now it’s a little over a month later. There’s a new hunt, something weird stirring a few towns over, and the boys are at your door again. Dean’s carrying a duffel, looking suspiciously like he’s raided your fridge before even greeting you. And Sam? Sam’s standing in your doorway with the dopiest grin you’ve ever seen on that six foot four tree of a man.

“Hey-“

Sam says, a little sheepishly, holding something behind his back. That made you raise a brow. “You bring me a cursed skull or something?”

But instead of a cursed skull he pulls it out with a flourish- and okay, technically it’s a vase. It’s lopsided. One side dips lower than the other like it’s melting in slow motion. The glaze is a little bit uneven. There’s a weird fingerprint pressed into the side. But somehow… it’s beautiful. In that stupid, earnest, tried his best Sam way. And you loved it..

“I, uh…”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. Trying to find a way to explain the object he was holding out like a proud kid showing their parent their hand turkey they made at school.

“I’ve been taking pottery. I just… figured I owed you a vase.”

You blink. “You learned pottery… because of the one I had that you broke?”You asked and Sam shrugs like it wasn’t too big of a deal, cheeks going pink in contrast- because to him it was a big deal. He never would’ve thought about doing something like this for anyone else- but you were different. He cared about you a lot..

“Well, yeah. You liked that one. And I felt awful. So- surprise?”

Your heart does that dumb warm thing it always does when Sam does anything remotely sweet. You take the vase from him gently, cradling it like it’s precious. Which, honestly, it kind of is now.