Request: Okay! So, for the interracial Sam Winchester x reader, I was thinking that the reader could be someone who kinda just integrated herself as a hunter-in-training.
She's great friends with both of them, but closer to Sam. The feelings they both have for each other are kept on the down-low because of reasons (they just have pretty weak excuses as to why they wouldn't work out but it's really because neither of them want to give into Dean's teasing). One day, she and Sam are holed up in a motel room, waiting for Dean to get back (he doesn't show up until two days later lol) and it's cold and snowy outside. They start playing something like "would you rather" or "20 questions", and after the reader admits she feels like she's unlucky in love, Sam passionately insists that there's people out there who love her, not quite admitting that he loves her until she asks him out right. Then steamy activities commence ;) I guess it could end with Dean showing up a day later, fully expectant of them to have "done the do" lol

Requestee: LionessSister that darling soul

Warnings: smut, a few curse words, kind of a smidge of angst

Author's Note: Howdy, so this took me forever to write (I'm sure you can guess which part), but I hope you enjoy it :) I love Sammy, so this was mostly fun

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You snort at Dean as he packs some more weapons into his duffle bag, "You are not about to go out in that weather!" At the moment, you're staring out one window, and Sam the other. It's white as far as the eye can see, never something that means good news, your grandmother taught you.

"I've got a case to check out, okay?" Dean says, as if nothing is wrong. The comment irritates you, your face bunching up at him, "Let me rephrase that then: You are not about to go out there alone. Not when both Sam and I have nothing to do and make perfect partners." Now Dean faces you, eyebrows mingling with his hairline, "You might have forgotten about the stab wound healing just beneath your fun bags, Y/N, but I haven't. You're staying here to heal, and Sammy, is your babysitter."

The sneaky little bastard he is, Dean manages to make his way to the door without you noticing until the burst of cold air surges through the open crevice of the once shut protector, "I'll be back in a few days, be good while I'm gone." He says with a wink, slamming the door shut and running to Baby before you can even think to chastise him.

"That seemed counterproductive." Sam says nonchalantly, turning to you with his hands in his pockets. He's doing that smile he does when he's nervous, the one where his eyebrows arch and only one half of his mouth tilts up in an awkward sort of laugh. It isn't that  he's nervous about being alone with you, he's been alone with you before, it's the amount of time the two of you will be spending together. Alone.

"Thank you, Sam. It's obvious that I won't get to leave this dump, so I'm gonna go shower. Dean and I picked up some food yesterday, it's in the fridge, can you take some out and heat it up please, I'll be right back." Sam nods again, "Yeah, uh, sure. I'll get that ready. Yeah." He mumbles while you're walking off.

As you let the water from the shower fall from the top of your head to the rest of your body, you try to think of how you're going to occupy these few days alone with Sam. It's not like you're afraid of the guy, the exact opposite, actually. You absolutely adore the overgrown puppy, he just doesn't know that yet, and it's easier to keep it that way with Dean around. With Dean around, it's easier to remember the teasing you absolutely do not want to endure.

You stand there beneath the fall until the water starts to run cold, which only takes 7.5 minutes. Growling in frustration, you step out of the shower and towel-pat yourself dry, making sure to be mindful of your stitches. With your 'fun bag' wound all clean and your wet hair thrown up into a bun, you toss on a pair of jogging pants and a tank top before exiting the bathroom.

Stepping out of the small hallway space and into the open space that holds everything else, you see Sam sitting at the table, a white container in front of him and a chilled bottle of beer raised to his lips. "Hey, um, I ran your stuff through the microwave, and I sat a beer by your food." You smile a thank you to him before sitting down.

"How is your wound, is it feeling any better?" He asks as you take a sip of your beer. You make eye contact with him and raise your shoulder coolly, "No, yeah, I'm fine." You say after sitting your beverage down. Sam quirks his eyebrows quickly and rests his hands against his knees, "You want anything else?" You lift your eyes to Sam, "No thanks, Sammy. I'm good."

This pulls as other nervous laugh from the younger Winchester, "Alright... Did you -" Now it's getting frustrating, "What is this, Sam? Twenty questions?" Sam lifts his shoulder, a regular chuckle leaving his lips now, "Maybe." You roll your eyes at him playfully, "What's your favorite color, Samuel Winchester?" You say, voice raised two octaves jokingly as you stand to get both of you new beers.

Sam laughs, watching as you bend into the fridge, "Brown." He says after settling down. Your eyebrows furrow in question as you slide his bottle across the table, "My favorite color, I said brown. About the shade of your skin." He answers. You can't help but smirk into your sip, the expression hiding behind the bottle.

*     *     *     *     *

You and Sam are both now three drinks into your evening, the 20 questions joke becoming less of a joke as the night goes on and the drinks begin relaxing you. You and Sam have migrated to the couch, him lounging with an arm along the arm of the couch, and you sitting upside down on said couch with your legs dangling from the back as your arms and head hang toward the ground.

"You know what I've always wanted to know?" Sam asks, looking down at you. You can't help but release a short huff of a laugh, "Is that your question, Sam?" He shakes his head at you, pushing some of his hair behind his ear, "No. I just, I have always wondered what makes you do it. Dean and I, we were born into a family of hunters, but you, you weren't. You were just a normal girl, living a nice normal life. What made you want to join us so bad you almost got yourself killed following us into a vampire nest?"

The memory of your first hunt with the boys does make you a little sad, nothing to do with them, of course, but the reason you did join them. "Well, I may have seemed to be an angel in heaven from the outside, but from the inside, things weren't so great. My parents, they never had time for me, and not because of anything we were doing together, they just... always wanted a son. There seemed to be some kind of self hatred there too.

"They worked hard to get us to a neighborhood where no one else was like us. We stood out like a brown thumb. Everyday, I was getting told by people that I didn't have to worry. Ya know, because being black in an all white town, they wanna make sure they make you feel different when they express repeatedly that you definitely are not different."

There's a pause as you take a drink, Sam not wanting to accidentally interrupt you. This is the first time the two of you have ever talked about anything serious. At least, anything serious like this. "Self-esteem is real hard to come by when the only way you can 'feel the love' is from the self-esteem pamphlet you steal from your doctor's office. So, I guess that's why I left. I have the worst case of being unlucky in love, and I figured that, if love is overrated, maybe helping people isn't."

Silence settles for a while, Sam letting the whole story soak in, while you just have nothing left to say. "But, of course people love you. If not your parents, I'm sure your friends did... do." You roll off of the couch, grabbing all of the bottles from the ground and suddenly feeling like you definitely have not had enough to drink. "I was friendly Sam, I didn't have friends. The closest thing I've had to friends since kindergarten is you and Dean."

And now the battle in Sam's mind commences. Of course he meant love as in platonically, but if he says it, it'll be painfully honest that there's nothing at all platonic about the way he feels about you, and there is the challenge. Tell you someone does love you, because he does, or just insist that there are people who love you, no specifics required?

Being a hunter, self preservation kicks in and Sam goes within the latter, "Y/N, I'm telling you now, there is no way - and I know because I know a lot - that there is an entire world of people and none of them love you. You're loved, Y/N, you're the only one who doesn't see it." You lean against the counter, a snort emitting from your mouth as you open your newest bottle, "Oh my goodness, Sam, it's not a big deal! I'm not discrediting you, Sam! You're acting like you love me or something, goodness." You yell, exasperated, before drinking.

"That's because I do, Y/N! I love you, so yeah, hearing you say no one does, it's frustrating and extremely discrediting." Sam mentally curses himself for not just saying that to begin with, seeing as his first mind was the outcome anyway. Then for your silence.

After ten seconds of silence, you stalk towards Sam, beer bottle dangling from your fingertips, "Say it again, Sammy." The man stumbles over his words, not able to answer you in surprise, leaping to his feet instead. "Come on, Sam. You hunt monsters for a living, I'm sure that three little words shouldn't be too hard." You whisper, wanting nothing more than to hear him repeat those words.

You may be looking up at him, but Sam feels like you're towering over his form, and nothing has ever turned him on more.

He doesn't answer you, not with words. No, sweet little Sammy grabs you up, one hand harshly gripping your thigh to hold you up, and the other tangled in your still wet from the shower bun.

Fighting for dominance isn't even an option as his mouth claims rule over yours. Your bodies are on fire and everything in Sam's mind is telling him that he'll be a happy man if he dies here, with his tongue exploring yours and your hips grinding against his. He wants to say it again, tell you he loves you, but he is on full, primal autopilot.

Sam doesn't bother walking the few feet to one of the beds, no, instead, with a tight grip on your hair, and a bruising one on your thigh, Sam drops you onto the couch. He admires your clothed body as he pulls his shirt over his head. It's a sight to behold, your skin has a glossy sheen to it, the kind you get before sweating, and your hips are twitching towards him on their own accord.

Deciding he's had enough of looking, Sam lays over top of you, his hips lodging between your legs and his lips latching to your neck. You don't even attempt to keep your voice down as you moan out in both surprise and pleasure.

It seems unfair for you to be receiving all of the pleasure here, so when Sam pulls your bra and top down, just so they're beneath your breasts, your hands inch up from his lower back. One grips the back of his neck and the other grabs a handful of his hair, urging a grunt out of the once seemingly gentle giant. The air gets heavier with your panting when Sam wraps his lips around your left nipple.

"Oh my God!" You moan out, your nails sinking into the side of Sam's neck. He snorts as he pulls his mouth up and looks at you from beneath his eyelashes, "Watch what you say, Y/N, I don't think you want him joining us." Sam finishes off his sentence pulling your pants and underwear down.

The sight of you sends the blood in his body into overdrive to get to his steadily rising member, making his jeans uncomfortably tight. Hoping to relieve himself a bit, Sam rests his covered member against your heat, thrusting his hips slowly.

Immediately, you can tell what's happening, "Oh no you don't, Sam." You struggle to say as you're pushing him up. For a moment, Sam worries that he's accidentally pressured you into having sex with him, but once he's standing on his feet, you pull your shirt and bra off completely, "Cheating never gets you anywhere." You say from your knees on the couch as you pop the button on his jeans.

"Y/N, I need you to move faster than that, okay?" He moans through gritted teeth as your lips follow after the hem of his pants, soon joined by his boxers.  "It's my turn now, Sammy." You say, pushing his naked body onto the couch so he's sitting. Though you wish to do more teasing, you do not take his warning in vain, so you crawl into his lap and smash your lips against his as you tease the head of his erection into your heat making both of you moan into the kiss.

You just circle your hips with the tip in for a while, but the teasing and Sam's grunting soon become too much for you and you lower yourself slowly, pulling a sigh from your lips. You're all prepared to take your time on Sam, but he has other ideas. Gripping your hips tightly, Sam bounces you up and down, struggling to keeps his hips in place.

The sound of your sweaty skin slapping his is almost drowned out by your screaming with each thrust. "Shit, don't stop Sammy. I'm so close. I'm so close." You moan with your head thrown back as you feel the bundle of fire in your stomach growing bigger by the second. Sam grunts in agreement, not able to say too much.

After a few more quick thrusts, you feel your orgasm coming, your muscles clenching around Sam, pulling him into the darkness with you, your name falling from his lips.

Once the two of you come down from cloud nine, Sam pulls out of you and releases your hips. After taking a minute to catch his breath, Sam lifts you, gently this time as places your exhausted body on one of the beds beneath the comforters, climbing in with you.

A little later, when Sam is sure you're asleep, he looks at you, your brown skin so contrasting to his own light complexion and your hair in disarray, and he smiles. "I meant it. I really do love you." You don't want to give away that you're awake, so you just smile slightly and snuggle in closer to him.

*     *     *     *     *

Your eyes squint open, but it isn't the bright sun shining through the window waking you, it's the loud music. Holding the comforter to your chest, you sit up, realizing the song playing is Rod Stewart's Do Ya Think I'm Sexy. You're looking for your phone to turn off the surprise alarm, but then you hear Dean, "Have a nice night, Cupcake?"

The sound of his voice makes you jump, awakening you immediately. You see him standing against the counter, the radio beside him and a beer in his hands to match the smirk on his face. You glare at the oldest Winchester as you shake Sam awake. His eyes blink a few times, causing Dean to turn the music up louder. Sam groans before sitting up, "Dean? I'm thought you were gonna be gone for a few days?" He says, choosing to make that what he opens with instead of 'what are you doing here' or 'what the hell is wrong with you'.

Dean turns the radio back down, a smile on his face, "And I thought you two would hook up before I get back. It seems like I'm the right one this time. You two lovebirds, get showered and dressed. I'm gonna go put my stuff in the car." He grabs two bags and sets his beer down, glancing at the two of you one more time before leaving, "Oh, and uh, I'll stay outside for a while, so the two of you cam shower together if you want. You know, to save water."