Supernatural Short Stories

A Talented Man

Sam x Reader

Opening up the last book in the pile, you immediately shut it when a heavy cloud of smoke filtered up from the pages. Slamming it shut, you peered at the title. "Beginner's guide to enchantments and spells."

You picked it up gingerly, tossing it onto Dean's pile, you stood up. "Where are you going?" Dean grumbled, his finger holding his place in the book. His eyes looked as crossed as yours felt. "I can't do it, Dean. My eyes are going to burst if I read any more of these dusty, boring old books."

"I hear you," he sighed. "Why don't you go check on Sam while I finish up. It's not like him to run out on research duty."

You patted Dean on the shoulder before gratefully leaving the library behind. You hadn't seen Sam for at least an hour, and you wondered what he was up to. "Sam?" You called out, knowing it could take you a long time to find him in the maze that the bunker was.

"In the kitchen!" He called back, and you headed down that hallway, easily sniffing out the crispness of apples and the sweetness of cinnamon.

Coming around the corner, you saw Sam sitting at the table, his head tilted down as he stared at the ancient cookbook in front of him. A bowl full of apples sat on the counter, covered in a cinnamon-sugar mix, while a flour mess was beside it.

"Sam, are you baking?"

"Yeah," he answered sheepishly. "At least I'm trying."

You sat down next to him, looking at the simple Apple Pie recipe he was trying to follow. "But you don't even like pie!"

He sighed, brushing his hair back from his face. It was adorable how a couple of strands refused to stay back, falling forward and landing on his face once again. "I know. But you do, and I got all these apples from that lady. Just wanted to surprise you."

"I am definitely surprised," You assured him. "But what's wrong? Why aren't they finished?"

"I can't figure out the topping," he muttered. "I wasn't sure if I should put another crust on top, or if I should make it with that crumble topping."

Squeezing his shoulder, you stood up. "I think we should go for the crumble one. Definitely. Can I help?"

Sam followed your directions, mixing the brown sugar, oats, and cinnamon, crumbling it between his long fingers. You plucked an extra apple from the counter, watching as Sam mixed. It was interesting, watching this usually confident man handle something he was completely unsure about. He kept turning to you, making sure he was doing it right. His brows were furrowed, his bottom lip between his teeth, as he turned to ask another question.

Finally, you decided you had had enough. Tossing the core into the trash, you pressed your body against his, pulling Sam's face down to yours, kissing him soundly.

"What was that for?" He asked.

"Because I could."

"As much as I enjoyed that, how do I..," he started, and you kissed him again. Smiling, you stepped back, letting him add the topping to the top, but when he turned to ask you another question, you jumped into his arms, silencing him with a kiss once again.

"As much as I like all of this, why do you keep cutting me off?" He finally asked, his arms wrapped around you, neither of you caring that his hands were still covered in the crumble.

"Because you are a confident man. One who doesn't need me to give you every step. I know it's not your comfort zone, but Sam, it's only an apple pie! You got this!"

Smiling sheepishly, Sam placed the pie in the oven, setting the timer before picking you up in his arms. "Sam!" You exclaimed.

"Well, since I know what I'm doing, I know we have 45 minutes before that timer goes off. So how about you and I do something I know we're both good at?"

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you let him carry you down the hallway. "This is much better than research," You assured Sam. "But please, don't burn the pie."