#mr pink skies choosing this song?? on this weekend?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingthingsisdifficult · 7 years ago

Text

Perfect afternoon

Anonymous sent a request: Could you please write something with Sam for me? Maybe like the song For Forever by Dear Evan Hansen please? I just lost my sister to cancer and I need something to look forward to. Thank you

This was a bit hard to write, had to let the song simmer for a while before inspiration struck, ‘cause the song is so melancholic – but I hope you like what I came up with, and I hope you have let the grief run its course, but not let it consume your life.

Note: I’ve used the song for inspiration, it may not be that easily recognised all the time.

Sam x reader, and there’s no warnings on this that I can think of, except some language, I guess.

Word count: 2620

June has transitioned into July before we caught a bit of a break and got to relax for a while. The spring and early summer was hell, quite literally, and all of us yearned for a few days of just breathing and living without fighting to survive. So at the first sign of peace Dean and I managed to convince Sam that a small holiday was an absolute necessity.

That’s how we find ourselves in a spacious cabin, courtesy of a very grateful, old widow whose late husband tried to shut her in the basement of their very old-fashioned home. Granted: she didn’t fully understand what happened at the time, but she understood enough to know that we saved her life, and rescued her beloved, rat-like, yappy-type dog too, and promptly offered us unlimited use of her mountain cabin. As she said: it was just sitting there, dusty and unused anyway.

Mountain cabin is probably a bit generous, though. It is located on the outskirts of a small town nestled snugly at the base of a picturesque range of tall hills, but not high enough to warrant extra gear or a big car to get us there – but it is private enough to shield us from the curious eyes of the locals.

Dean took to it immediately. The weather is warm, and the air is dry, and he spends the days either on the shore of the small lake just behind the cabin with a cold beer in one hand and a musty, old fishing rod he’s excavated from one of the many cupboards, or with a bucket of soapy water and a rag, taking care of his one true love.

“Baby needs some love,” he says, sending looks of adoration and affection to the car, the water spraying rainbows into the air. The Impala shines like a star, standing happily in the gravel by the porch.

Taking refuge from the scorching mid-day sun, I sit down in the porch swing – carefully, testing that the wood hasn’t rotted through. It proves an unnecessary worry: the swing creaks a bit under my weight, but holds up, and I rock back and forth on my toes. “Seriously, Dean, that is not a healthy relationship,” I tease, giggling from the dark look in his eyes once he overcomes the initial shock of my indecent accusation.

“She’s not young anymore, Y/N, you know that. She needs a lot of TLC –“

“Relax, dude. I didn’t mean it. You two are made for each other. You’ll make each other very happy –“

“Shut it! Go bother Sam if you can’t be nice.” He picks up the bucket and carries it over to the other side of the car, out of my sight.

Shrugging, I get to my feet. “I would, but I don’t know where he is,” I say, hoping my voice sounds normal. Sam has been restless ever since the evening we arrived – like he has forgotten how to relax, and I rarely see him other than at breakfast and dinner. What he does with the rest of his time is a mystery. And it sort of breaks my heart a little.

Sam’s happiness, or lack of, affects me a lot. During the years we’ve known each other, I so very foolishly have gone and fallen in love with him, but I lack the courage to do anything at all about it. Instead, I have buried my thumping heart deep in my chest, and evicted all the fluttering butterflies from my stomach, and pretend that we were just friends. Because that’s what we’ve always been.

Dean pokes his head over the roof of the car and cocks his head. “Last I saw him, he sat out back with his nose in a book. Knowing him, he hasn’t moved yet.” He shakes his head and ducks back down behind the car again, muttering about rest and relaxation and not being able to take a break from research.

Jumping to my feet, I offer thanks over my shoulder and heads for the kitchen, thinking I might as well have an excuse for interrupting Sam when he obviously wants to be alone. I grab a couple of glasses and the mug of lemonade I made for lunch and head into the meadow behind the cabin.

Even though I am used to being around Sam, I still stutter a bit when I see him. He has laid out a folded blanket on the grass and sits with the book in his hand, but his face is turned towards the sun. The flannel he usually wears is discarded in a crumpled heap by his feet, and he’s kicked off his shoes and socks. If I had ever thought about how my personal heaven would look like, this would come very close.

“Hey,” I say when I get close enough.

Opening his eyes, he blinks a couple of times, and then he smiles. “Hey.”

I can’t think of anything else to say, so I simply hold out the lemonade with a tilt to my head: an unspoken offer. Sam puts away his book and scoots over to make room for me. As I sit down, I only spill a couple of drops, but it is enough to make me yelp in surprise as the cold liquid slosh over my knee, sending an icy blast through my veins. The sound of Sam laughing so heartily makes me feel like I am soaring through the blue skies.

It’s as if time slows down. A light breeze blows over us, gifting us the music from unseen birds in the trees and the buzzing insects. Drowsy summer day heat rolls over our faces, and we watch the slow ripples on the lake, just taking in the calm and storing it for times when shit blows up.

I gotta say something – this balloon in my chest is almost bursting, but when I look at Sam, I’m afraid I’m gonna talk gibberish. Taking a deep breath, I roll my shoulders. “You know what I really want right now?” My mind is set, but I chicken out at the last minute, when his beautiful eyes lock with mine. All air rushes out of my lungs. Typical. “A proper ice cream. Like made of cream and real vanilla seeds and chocolate.” The lie comes fast and seamlessly, and I don’t think he notices the hesitation that lasts for a fraction of a moment. But there is no hiding the colour that spreads over my cheeks or the heat that flushes my face like a furnace. I pick at the frayed edge of the blanket.

Sam looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, and we just sit there, watching the trees and the water and the sun slowly making her way over the sky. To our left a bumblebee is busy head-butting all the flowers it can find, and the sight make me giggle.

“They don’t look like the smartest of animals, do they?” I reply to Sam’s curious look, pointing at the flying paradox that is now eagerly trying to fit into a light pink foxglove that is just a couple of sizes too small.

“Uh-huh…” says Sam, laughing at the bumbling creature, not noticing my lingering gaze or how I stop myself from reaching out to run my hand through his hair. Instead, he points to a different flower. “Look, there’s another one. They’re kinda… graceful…”

“Really?” I snort.

“Well, considering they’re not really supposed to be able to fly, I’d say it’s almost like a ballet dancer,” he replies with a sheepish smile.

Flopping over on my stomach, I hide my face in the blanket for a second before laughing loudly and startling the closest bumblebee. “The Ballet of the Bumblebee,” I proclaim, waving my hand dramatically, awkwardly striking a vague pose.

We fall quiet again, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve always been comfortable with silence. So close to the ground, the rich, dark scent of drying soil fills my nose, and I inhale deeply, cementing this day in my memories.

Without thinking, I pick a yellow flower and wafting it slowly back and forth. The scent is almost buttery, and sweet, and transports me back to when I was young and carefree, and the biggest worry I had was the amount of homework Mr. Lewis assigned over the weekend.

The flower slips out of my hand, and floats tucks itself behind my ear –I look up to find Sam looking down at me. His eyes are soft, and his hand lingers around the flower stem. “I…” he says, but shuts up. His eyes flick up towards the cabin, and a few seconds later, Dean saunters past us, with the cooler in one hand, and the fishing rod in the other. He is humming to himself, and almost skips over the grass.

Sitting up, Sam clears his throat. “Hey, Dean, you done with your baby?”

“Huh?” He stops and looks around, as if he hasn’t even noticed us sitting there. “Yeah, for now. Why?”

“Gimme the keys. I want ice cream.”

My head whips in Sam’s direction, and I ungraciously swallow a lot of air, and I probably look like an idiot with my eyes on stalks when Dean fishes the keys from his pocket. Before he tosses them to Sam, he gives us a stern look. “No funny business,” he says with half a smile. “And don’t you dare hurt her,” he adds after some thought.

“What, the car or Y/N?” Sam asks lightly, pulling me to my feet, but Dean’s answer is nothing more than a mumbled grumble. We burst out laughing, and run and stumble towards the cabin before Dean can change his mind.

Sam must have been more awake than me when we first drove into town, because he has no trouble finding parking space, and moments later, he pulls me through the door and into a small ice cream shop that I could swear just popped out of nowhere.

They don’t have too many flavours to choose from, but it’s enough, and we both end up with a couple of scoops of soft deliciousness that threaten to drip down our hands in the heat from the sun.

Licking the ice cream and walking slowly through the sleepy streets, we make our way to a small park that’s obviously made with passing tourists in mind – it’s filled with fake “authentic” monuments over semi-historical events and places, and every couple of yards there’s benches dedicated to people who no doubt are famous if you were born in this town.

Sitting down on one dedicated to Deirdre, who, according to the plaque, didn’t give a crap about the park, but liked to feed the pigeons, we watch people wander by, and the trees and the squirrels foraging and preparing for colder weather.

I nod towards a large grey one, and suck a drop of sugary cream off my finger. “Did you know they sometimes pretend to bury their nuts and seeds to fool other squirrels? Like, they dig a hole and drop the nut in, but really it’s still in their mouth, and then they go bury it somewhere else.” I’m rambling, I know, but suddenly I feel Sam’s sitting so close that my brain can barely function.

“You know so much weird shit, Y/N,” Sam says and stuffs the rest of his cone into his mouth like he has no worries in the whole world. How can he not know how he makes me go all gooey inside?

“Heh, yeah, I’m killing it on trivia nights.”

Smiling, Sam exhales through his nose. “I can’t remember the last time we did a quiz night. It’s gotta be years, right?”

Scrunching my eyes together, I try to remember, but I come up blank. “I think so. We don’t get much normal nights out, do we, Sam?”

“Nah. I guess… What do you think you’d do if… if you weren’t in the, uh, business, I mean?”

His voice is soft, and I imagine I can hear a whole lifetime of sadness in it. “I, uh, I don’t know,” I reply, clearing my throat to remove the sudden lump behind my uvula. “Just normal stuff, you know? Travel, I guess… I hope I’d still be writing. Maybe I’d publish a book or something. That would be cool. But I can’t really imagine having a regular job, you know?” I sigh, and stare down the path that disappears under the trees. “How about you?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

I say, “me too,” and smile into my ice cream.

“No really, I mean it, Y/N.” His hand lands on top of mine, the one I rest on the bench seat, and he squeezes lightly. In my chest, my heart stops, and when I finally dare to look up, his eyes shine with something new. “If this is what I get… If I get to be with you, just this day, then… Life will be alright for forever this way.”

Standing up, he suddenly says, “follow me,” and we walk quickly towards the small hill over by the blackberry bushes – and I wonder if I just imagined the last five minutes.

When we pass the berries, and start half climbing up the rocky slope, I’m pretty convinced that my mind is playing tricks on me, but I can’t give up on that thought that something big is going to happen, that soon my life will be turned upside down. With my mind wandering, I place one foot after the other, the ground is wobbly, but the sun shines in our faces, so no one can blame me for not paying attention.

But then I step on a loose stone: I slip and fall, tumbling down a few yards. My foot feels weird, there’s a knobbly branch poking my back, and the world seems upside down indeed. Groaning, I try to feel my foot. It’s not broken. That’s good, at least. No, it’s nothing serious: just a bruised ankle, and an equally bruised pride.

“Oh shit, you okay?” Sam’s head appears over my face, a worried look in his eyes. He has come to get me, and everything is okay. Everything is okay.

I try to nod, but it’s weird when down is up and up is down, so I just smile. “Hhhh… yeah. Just got knocked about a little. I’m… I’m good.” Sitting up, I wince from the pain in my side, but it disappears when Sam offers me his hand and pull me up – and then don’t let go of me when I’m securely on my feet.

Hand in hand we climb to the top – and the view is breathtaking. We can see for forever from here: the vast, blue sky and the mountains and the small town behind us. I step up on a stone, maybe it’s to get a better look, or maybe it’s subconsciously, I don’t know, but blood rushes in my ears from knowing I’m here, with Sam, and we’re watching the sun over the trees and the soft pastels painting the sky. In any case, I don’t notice Sam watching me.

A cool breeze sends a ripple of goosebumps over my skin, and then I feel the warmth of his skin like a wall against my back, and I half turn to look what he’s doing, and his face is so close to mine I feel his breath fan over my lips as he leans in. The hair on my arms rise, and in my chest my heart is beating its rhythmic music, and right that moment – on that perfect afternoon – we’re both on the top of the world.

Tagging my for forever beautiful friends:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @fandomismyspiritanimal @barneybrigade @mogaruke @wstrumpel @whovianextrodinare @hennessy0274-blog @sushi-senpai-chan @tardis-is-mine @badasssweetsrebel @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @megasimpleplan4ever @iamreadinginsecret

#sam x reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert #love #for forever #perfect afternoon #spn #fanfic #writing is hard

51 notes · View notes