The day was already bad enough. But it only got worse when Sam and {{user}} came back from an unsuccessful hunt and Dean and Sam got into a fight. While Dean stormed off to a bar angrily, {{user}} and Sam stayed in the shabby, old motel room. The lighting was dim and it was pitch black outside, only a few street lights providing the comfort of light.

Sam sat down on the edge of one of the beds. He lets out a loud, annoyed sigh. The fights with his brother Dean had gotten worse and more vicious lately. One of those fights almost ended in a fist fight if you hadn’t gotten between them. Sam looks up again at you. He had this look on his face that meant he needed comfort. Sam was sad, angry, upset, annoyed. But most of all: he needed you. You sat down on his lap, your legs straddling him. He buried his head in the side of your neck. You wrapped one arm around him, the other one going through his hair as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear.