perfect strangers- sam winchester x reader

just a plate

sam types things rapidly into his computer, while dean devours his stack of seven pancakes. you lightly pick at your eggs. sex. that's... an issue. but that's something sam wants. it's obvious. you've awkwardly asked him to wait whenever things get too much, to which he always says is fine. the disappointment on his face is clear as he suggests sleep instead. sam looks up at you.

"you alright?" you glance at him, then back down. 

"yeah... i just... i think i'm just tired." sam gently smiles at you. 

"didn't get much sleep?" dean asks. 

"i guess you could say that." dean's eyebrow raises as your cheeks flush. 

"shit... i wasn't... that's..." your brain rattles with excuses you can use. "i just didn't-" 

"jesus sam, what'd you do to her?" he says with a laugh as he stuffs his mouth. sam rolls his eyes. flustered, you straighten your back. 

"what're you looking at?" you ask sam, stumbling over every syllable. 

"looking for a case. something easy, near by... you know, to get you back on the horse." you slouch. that's... never been discussed. "you know, if you're ready." he adds. 

"yeah, of course." you say, trying your best to seem excited. both brothers look at you; they can tell that you're overcompensating. 

"well," dean says, he smacks his hands together and rubs them off on his shirt, falling onto the backrest. "thanks for breakfast." you smile. 

"no problem." you get up to take his dishes into the kitchen. your hand awkwardly touches his as you both try to grab his plate. you flush crimson. "sorry." you murmur, pulling his plate away, practically running into the kitchen. what is with you today? you're acting like an awkward school girl. you trip on your own feet, sending his plate crashing to the ground. 

"shit!" you scream as a piece of porcelain presses into your foot. blood gushes out of your heel as you grimace in pain. sam runs over to you. you fall to the ground, struggling to pick up the pieces. 

"hey, hey..." sam murmurs, taking you into his lap. salty tears stream down your face as he wraps his arms around you. 

"i- i'm... sorry." you choke out as he shushes you. 

"it's okay," he lightly chuckles. "sweetheart, it's just a plate." dean comes over and begins to scoop up the shattered pieces. blood flows onto sam's pants. he glances down to assess the damage done. 

"shit, y/n." sam says with a sigh. "that's really in there." you cling onto his chest as he gently touches the shard.

"dean," he calls out. "i need gauze, needle, and some thread." he turns to you, his face softening. "i'm going to need to stitch it up, okay?" you nod in response. 

"i'm sorry." you whisper. he leans up to you and gently kisses your forehead.

"it's okay."