Suspicions

The first time

"What do you mean you don't want food? You haven't eaten all day" Dean scoffed, eyes creased into a suspicious squint aimed at his younger brother, who was uneasily pacing the room. "Dude, what's going on? You're acting like it's the end of the world."

Sam shook his head, and smiled nervously, watching as Deans eyes widened and he sat himself up straight on the end of the bed "Its not, is it? What is it you're not telling me?"

"Nothing, Dean. I'm just restless. I might go for a walk" Sam chuckled, a faint pink colour rising in his cheeks. Luckily, Dean was too oblivious to notice as he scoffed again. He laid back down, feet hanging off the bed and arms behind his head. The bright light inside the motel room shone in his eyes, which he closed shut to stop from blinding himself. He could hear Sam still pacing, but after a few moments there was a pause, a change of pace, and a breeze that stopped as quickly as it came, leaving only the sound of a slamming door behind it.

The cold, white air whipped on Sam as he walked, hands kept warm inside his pockets. With each step he took, the frosted gravel crunched under his boots, combined only with the sound of his shaky breathing that left smoky swirls in the air. By the time he opened the door to the restaurant, the heat hit him hard and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. "Uh..Hey, Y/N"

You looked up at him as he approached your table, smiling as he ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. It immediately fell back down in front of his face, and you held back a laugh as he weakly attempted to flip it out of the way. "Hey Sam" You stood up, and he wrapped his arm around your back tightly. His hands were so cold you could feel it through the thin material of your top, causing you to inhale suddenly. You held your breath for a few seconds, in an attempt to both get over the shock of the cold and the butterflies that were beginning to rise in your stomach. This was dumb; you weren't a child anymore, you should have been over these nerves.

You let yourself breathe again as he let go and you both sat down, Sam straightening his shirt under his jacket as he did so. He shifted in his seat, the leather squeaking under him, and you could hear him gulping down his air. "So, uh, have you been sat here long?"

"Only a few minutes, you're right on time." You assured him, and he went to open his mouth before you were both interrupted by someone approaching the table.

"I'll just have a beer, whatever type you've got." Sam nodded to the waitress, then glanced over to you.

"A glass of house red wine, please" You smiled as she scribbled down your order, handed you two food menus and went back to the bar. Sam skimmed over the choices, and you could see his brow furrow in what looked like concern. "You okay there?"

"Yeah, this place is just a little more out of my comfort zone than normal." You felt your face screw up in confusion as you looked around the room. The leather booth seats were shiny and new, but that was probably the best thing about the place. The wooden tables and floor were scraped, scratched and dull. The lights above your head were uneven; some of them way too bright, but not at all made up by the broken dimness of the others. The waitress that just took your drinks order was at least professional looking-but the bar she was stood by was drained of it's old vibrant colours and had certainly seen better days. Sam could see your eyes trailing the room, and when you finally came back to him he was looking down in embarrassment.

"This place doesn't look the greatest but it is the nicest place around here. Most of the people in this town haven't seen the inside of anywhere even half as nice" You tried to reassure him, and when he smiled up at you in response you felt the butterflies return. Why were you being so cliché? "So uh, what are you getting?"