Summary: Dean makes you nervous, but you keep trying to get him to like you.
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Warnings: Sickeningly sweet nicknames. It’s all fluff.
Word count: 360 words (I’ve drabbled twice in two weeks. Pretty sure four scary guys on horses will follow!)
A/N: This is for the @spnfanficpond‘s SPN Season 14 Weekly Episode Writing Challenge Week 3, and the prompt I picked was #4. “It’s marked ‘gross stuff’.” This may also be gross, since I didn’t ask anyone to beta read it for me.
“Hey, honey…?” Sam called from deep
inside the pantry.
“Yes, sugarplum?” you joked,
pulling your head out of the cabinet you were trying to rearrange in the
kitchen island.
Sam’s voice got quieter and more
muffled, so you almost couldn’t hear him. “Where’d you put the quinoa and
couscous? I thought I’d make some with dinner tonight, but I can’t find it now
that you’ve put everything, you know, ‘away’.”
You and Sam were new. Like, really
new. You’d met, fallen into bed, fallen in love, and then moved into the bunker
so quickly, everyone’s heads were spinning. Fitting into such a huge place with
two men who had lived almost bound at the hip for over 35 years was daunting.
They already had systems in place for everything.
The one place neither brother had seemed to really take over was the kitchen. Hoping
it would help you burn off some nervous energy, you’d decided to rearrange everything,
so it made more sense to you, and then take over the cooking duties so the boys
could have some healthy, home-cooked food for a change. You’d finally have a space
that was yours in both the bunker and their lives.
Before you could answer, Dean
walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing the multitude of
pots and pans you had strewn around the room while you wiped out the cabinets.
Your blood pressure shot up as your nerves hummed. No matter how friendly he
was, Dean still made you nervous. In your effort to get him to like you and
accept you, you’d managed to spill hot coffee on him and his favorite ‘dead guy’
robe, dent Baby’s grill with your shotgun when you slipped and fell, and get
bleach spots on half of his black t-shirts.
“Baby?” Sam said, sticking his head
out of the pantry door. “Quinoa? Couscous?”
Seeing a chance to maybe help your
cause with Dean, you grimaced playfully and replied, “It’s in the farthest
cabinet on the left. It’s marked ‘gross stuff’.”
Dean barked a laugh and gave you an
approving nod. Maybe there was hope for you and Dean, after all!
Toad's Cave 