Prompt drabbles 1
Title: On being a Romantic
Word count: ~500
Rated: pg (Language, as usual)
Notes: Post S5 AU; vague spoilers through S4
Genre: Het
Characters: Sam/Sarah
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belongs to WB/The CW, I own nothing and make no money.
A/N: For ratherastory , who wanted Sam/Sarah because she is “a romantic sap.” Happy belated Valentines!
*** Sarah has a few ideas about how she might meet Sam again. Haunted paintings can’t be that rare, right? Who knows what might cross her dad’s auction block. Or it might be an unrelated job in the area that tempts the brothers in, she isn’t picky. One day she’ll be shopping at the local convenience store and Sam will be there too, picking up some more salt (because damn, they must go through that stuff like burning) and their eyes will meet. Unlikely, yes, but Sarah’s a romantic. If she ends up scouring newspapers for macabre obits and going to minimarts off the freeway a few more times a month than she has any reason to, it just means that she’s a practical romantic.
Sometimes when she’s had a little too much to drink and it’s been a particularly lonely week, Sarah lets herself spin out even more improbable scenarios. She imagines a future where (when) all those wounds left by losing his girlfriend have scarred over, and Sam is no longer afraid that loving her will hurt more than she’s worth. Sarah imagines that Sam comes back not for a hunt at all but because he regrets that they only had that one kiss as much as she does, and he wants to make it work- them, together.
That’s where the fantasy falls apart, though, because how do you make it work with someone whose back yard is the lower 48, someone with no paying job and a calling more dangerous than firefighting and skydiving combined? And in reality it’s already been years, and he never called, and this is the one way she can be sure she wont be seeing Sam Winchester again. Hunters don’t have the luxury of being romantics.
Which is why she almost doesn’t recognize the scruffy man who turns up at her door one Thursday evening. He’s bigger than he used to be, physically, new and defined muscles filling out his tall frame. The way he carries himself, though, makes him look smaller. Humbled. She doesn’t think twice about letting him in.
“I wanted to see you,” he shrugs when she stutters out the obvious question. He speaks so softly she has to lean in close to hear.
“What…what’s new with you?” she asks, and laughs at herself.
But Sam just smiles. “You know, not much. Starting the apocalypse. Driving a lot. Killing Lucifer. Putting up with Dean’s bitching. Same old, same old.”
Who knows if he’s joking about the apocalypse and killing Satan; His flip tone says yes, while his over-tired eyes say maybe not. It doesn't really matter. Either way, he’s here in her living room, whole and strong and looking at her like she’s water and he hasn’t had a drink in years. Sarah stands on her tip-toes and kisses him, tentative until he puts both hands in her hair and pulls her closer. Even with years of fantasy to live up to, the reality is breathtaking. Sarah can’t help but smile against Sam’s lips, even though it breaks the kiss, because as how lucky is it that she’s not the only romantic out there, after all?
Word count: ~500
Rated: pg (Language, as usual)
Notes: Post S5 AU; vague spoilers through S4
Genre: Het
Characters: Sam/Sarah
Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belongs to WB/The CW, I own nothing and make no money.
A/N: For ratherastory , who wanted Sam/Sarah because she is “a romantic sap.” Happy belated Valentines!
*** Sarah has a few ideas about how she might meet Sam again. Haunted paintings can’t be that rare, right? Who knows what might cross her dad’s auction block. Or it might be an unrelated job in the area that tempts the brothers in, she isn’t picky. One day she’ll be shopping at the local convenience store and Sam will be there too, picking up some more salt (because damn, they must go through that stuff like burning) and their eyes will meet. Unlikely, yes, but Sarah’s a romantic. If she ends up scouring newspapers for macabre obits and going to minimarts off the freeway a few more times a month than she has any reason to, it just means that she’s a practical romantic.
Sometimes when she’s had a little too much to drink and it’s been a particularly lonely week, Sarah lets herself spin out even more improbable scenarios. She imagines a future where (when) all those wounds left by losing his girlfriend have scarred over, and Sam is no longer afraid that loving her will hurt more than she’s worth. Sarah imagines that Sam comes back not for a hunt at all but because he regrets that they only had that one kiss as much as she does, and he wants to make it work- them, together.
That’s where the fantasy falls apart, though, because how do you make it work with someone whose back yard is the lower 48, someone with no paying job and a calling more dangerous than firefighting and skydiving combined? And in reality it’s already been years, and he never called, and this is the one way she can be sure she wont be seeing Sam Winchester again. Hunters don’t have the luxury of being romantics.
Which is why she almost doesn’t recognize the scruffy man who turns up at her door one Thursday evening. He’s bigger than he used to be, physically, new and defined muscles filling out his tall frame. The way he carries himself, though, makes him look smaller. Humbled. She doesn’t think twice about letting him in.
“I wanted to see you,” he shrugs when she stutters out the obvious question. He speaks so softly she has to lean in close to hear.
“What…what’s new with you?” she asks, and laughs at herself.
But Sam just smiles. “You know, not much. Starting the apocalypse. Driving a lot. Killing Lucifer. Putting up with Dean’s bitching. Same old, same old.”
Who knows if he’s joking about the apocalypse and killing Satan; His flip tone says yes, while his over-tired eyes say maybe not. It doesn't really matter. Either way, he’s here in her living room, whole and strong and looking at her like she’s water and he hasn’t had a drink in years. Sarah stands on her tip-toes and kisses him, tentative until he puts both hands in her hair and pulls her closer. Even with years of fantasy to live up to, the reality is breathtaking. Sarah can’t help but smile against Sam’s lips, even though it breaks the kiss, because as how lucky is it that she’s not the only romantic out there, after all?