Supernatural Imagines/One shots

End of the World - Sam

The blood has stained through his t-shirt.

I was a brand-new t-shirt, as well.

He lifts the corner of it up to give me access to the popped stitches on the lower-left of his stomach. The cut is long and deep and he says he doesn't know how it reopened but I think it's because he refuses to disrupt his workout routine, whether or not he's been injured. For someone so smart, he can be real dumb. 

I dab at the blood gently and Sam watches me passively. He looks a little tired, like his mind is somewhere else. I don't blame him. Things are stressful.

He could do this perfectly fine himself, so I suppose it's a little awkward I'm patching it up. But I want to do it and he lets me, so we don't address it.

"Where's Dean?" I ask, picking up the bandages. 

"Out, trying to get in one last lay while he still can."

Oh right. Did I mention it's the end of the world? At least, it is allegedly, but how many times have we heard that? 

"Ha. And look at us. What am I doing on the brink of an apocalypse? Making sure you don't fall apart." 

I start to wrap the cotton around his wound. 

"Think you'll give me a break at some point - stop falling into pieces?"

He shifts. "If it means you keep putting me back together again, I don't think I will."

Half my mouth quirks up into a smile. He's sweet. There's nobody else I'd rather spend this night with, if it ends up being one of our lasts. You can never be too sure, but I'm trying not to think about that. I secure the bandage in place and Sam moves to face me and he looks like he's contemplating saying something.

"Do you think we'll make it?" Sam asks, his voice a little quieter. We're so close I can see the hazel flecks in his eyes and the rise and fall of his chest, which is faster than normal.

I look up at him and I take a second to answer.

"Yeah." 

He nods, but the movement is stiff and unconvincing.

So, I clarify, "At least, that's what I tell myself."

His eyes lock onto mine, the air has shifted. I taste hopelessness on my tongue, and the shine of his eyes isn't helping. I take in a deep breath through my nose. His cheeks are a little red. 

For some reason, I stutter when I ask him, "D-do you think we'll make it?"

A beat passes. 

His lips part and he brings his face closer to mine. I don't hesitate to meet him halfway and we kiss. It looks like the answer to my question is I don't know, but it's the best one he could've given. 

If this is our last night, what do we have to lose?  

I thread my fingers through his hair and it's just as soft as I imagined it would be. He holds my cheek in his warm hand and I melt into the feeling. I pull back a millimetre, our noses touching, as I ask:

"Are we doing this?"

This time he does answer, "Do you want to?"

"Yes."

He smiles and it strikes me then that I haven't seen one like it in a long while. He kisses me again. 

If it is the end of the world, we may as well go out with a bang.

hey thanks for reading (i couldn't help myself with that last line i'm a comedian)