Sam Winchester Imagines

The Artist

A/N: This was requested by TheWalkingWinchester! I've been reading her story nonstop for a couple days. It's a TWD story and it's really good. Check it out if your watch it (or even if you don't honestly) :) And I make some kinda rude jokes about artists (That I don't think are true), so if you really hate that, then I don't recommend reading this. ON WITH THE STORY

"Hey, baby," Sam says, walking into your room.

You shriek, jumping back. "I could've been naked!" you yell.

"Oh, don't get shy now," he smiles, winking at you.

He looks around your room. "What's that?" he asks, pointing to an easel.

"Nothing," you reply quickly.

"Oh, yeah?" he laughs.

"It's nothing, Sam. Did you come in here for a reason?" You ask.

"Uh... I did. I don't know what it is now. I forgot."

"Smooth," your say sarcastically, letting out a small chuckle.

"Why does there have to be a reason? Maybe I just want to see my love," He smiles.

"That's sweet," You smile a little.

"So... What's up with the easel?" He says, bringing the subject up again.

"Just drop it, Sam," You say.

He stays silent and completely still for a moment. Suddenly, he runs to the easel, turning it around before you can even sit up.

"Sam, pl-" Is all you get out before he turns around the easel.

"Oh, Y/N," He says, holding back a smile.

"What?" You ask, holding back your anger.

"Is this a moose?" He laughs.

"No, it's y-" You stop yourself. "It's not done yet, Sam."

"I see," He says, looking at your painting.

"Sam, stop looking at it, it's not done yet, and..." You trail off, not wanting to say anything else.

"'And' what?" He asks, hesitantly looking away from your picture to your face.

"It's nothing, Sam. Please, just put it down. I'll show you wen it's done," You say quietly.

"You can tell me."

"It's embarrassing," You say.

"Hey."

You ignore him.

"Hey, Y/N."

You ignore him.

"Y/N."

You ignore him.

"Y/N, wanna hear a joke?"

You roll your eyes. "Sure, fine."

"Wha-" He starts.

"No artist jokes," You say, interrupting him.

He pauses for a few seconds. "Never mind."

You sigh and roll your eyes again. "Fine, what is it? And it better be one I haven't heard before."

"Okay," He chuckles a little to himself and rubs his hands together. "What's the difference between a bench and an artist?"

"What?" You say, rolling your eyes and sighing a little.

"A ben-" He pauses and chuckles a little, "-A bench can support a family."

"Mature," You say sarcastically.

"You're not allowed to be grumpy about it, you said it was okay."

"You shouldn't be making jokes about money. The only reason you and Dean can pay for anything is by stealing," You say, more rudely than intended.

He raises his eyebrows for a moment. "O... Kay..."

"I'm sorry," You say, rubbing your face for a moment.

"It's okay," He says.

He jumps on your large bed in a lying down position, throwing one of his legs up, resting his head on his head on his hand. He makes duck lips and places his other hand on his butt, rubbing it.

You try and hold back your laughter, but once he slaps his own rear, you lose it. Not even 30 seconds later, you could barely breathe.

"Paint me like one of your French girls," He says.

"Sam, oh, my gosh," You say as tears begin to stream down your face.

A few minutes later, you contain your laughter and begin to calm down.

You stand up and walk over to your notebook and a pencil. You start to draw how he is positioned.

"Stop moving, Sam. Can you ever sit still?" You say, letting out a small laugh.

"Nope," He laughs, attempting to try and stay still again.

"It's done," You say, laughing. You hesitate to turn it around, but finally do.

"That's... That's definitely something," He laughs.

"You like it?" You ask.

"Yeah," He laugh, grabbing it from your hand and looking closer at it.

"Good," You say.

You kiss him on the cheek and look at your clock.

"How much longer until dinner? I'm starving."

"Oh, my gosh."

"What?" You ask.

"You know how I said that I couldn't remember why I came in here?"

"You didn't."

"I did... I forgot, it's dinner time."

"Jerk," You say, throwing a pillow at him.

"I'm sorry," He says, holding his hands up.

"Dean probably ate it all already... I'm just going to have ice cream and then go to bed, so goodnight, Sammy."

"Night, baby," Sam says. kissing your cheek.