SupernaturalxReader

Us. (Sam fluff)

another sweet Sammy, I know. what can I say - who isn't a sucker for fluffy Sam?

"Sam. Oh my god, oh. my. god. Sam. Sam! Sam! Look!" you pulled on a confused but laughing Sam's shirt sleeve, trying to pull him towards the swing set you were pointing at.

"What, the swings? Cmon, (y/n), do I look like I can fit on those? I'll break the whole thing down!" You laugh, seeing the image of him accidentally trashing the children's playground all too clearly.

"Aw, baby, but look! We never ever get a day off. Much less a day off away from Dean. Much less a day off away from Dean where we stumble upon an empty playground! It's perfect! I absolutely loved the swings. And I promise, you'll fit. I knew some chubby ass toddlers who fit just fine. And you're basically five, so what's there to be afraid of?" You taunt him now, already on your way to the swings and pulling him behind you.

"Ha ha, very funny. But no. Maybe I can just push you?" He tries to get out of it, but you give him a look over your shoulder - you know the one - and he gives in. "Fine. Fine! But I challenge you to a shoe flinging contest, and by challenge, I mean condemn. Because I'm gonna win so hard I'm gonna kick your cute ass into next week."

"You fucking wish!" and with that, you two race to the swings.

--------

After at least an hour of wildly kicking your shoes from the swing's highest point and jumping off just to land poorly nearly every time, you're both exhausted. You swing gingerly, Sam barely moving at all beside you.

"Why is it that you love the swings so much, (y/n)? My hips feel like they're being condensed at least seven sizes smaller, and I can't even count the number of times these evil chains have nipped the skin on my hands," he asks with genuine curiosity, slowing to a stop and seemingly expecting you to do the same. But you don't - you only swing harder.

"Join me Sammy," is all you answer at first, waiting for him to catch up to your height.

"Feel that?" you ask, still not looking at him, your eyes set on the sky.

"Feel... what?" Sam, in turn, doesn't take his eyes off your serene face for a second.

"The wind - in your ears, through your hair, against your face. And the sun, shining right on us like a spotlight. If you focus, and I mean really focus, you can tune out everything but the air gushing every time you move forward. And, well, my voice for now. You feel it Sam?"

"Yeah," he says in a breath, finally pulling himself away from staring at you to feel the sensation you described.

"Now, look out there. Really out there. See the blue of the sky, how deep it looks, how far it reaches upwards? The tree line that brushes up against it? See that?" this time, he doesn't answer, and you know it's a good sign. He's seeing.

"If you keep your focus there, keep listening to the air, the air, the air, you can imagine. Imagine it's just you in the world, imagine you're almost flying. When your feet reach out, they slide up against the trees, the sky. You're flying. It's you, the wind, and the sky. No monsters. No evil. Not even any heaven, no God. Just you," and your voice fades out as you let yourself feel it too, both of your legs still pumping, desperate to fly.

"One change." Sam says, and you come halfway out of your daze in confusion.

"What?"

"It's not just me, it's not just you. It's us. It's us, and we're flying. Not because anything is chasing us this time. Just because it's us, the sky, and the wind. It's us," his gaze is right at the tree line, and yours might be too if you didn't feel tears welling up. You weren't a crier, and you weren't going to now, but it still made your eyes water a little when he said that. You could get used to that - being part of an 'us.'

"Just us," your voice is so dreamy it doesn't even sound like yours, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is flying away with the boy you love.