Two In The Morning (Winchesters Imagine)

Two in the Morning (Winchesters Imagine)

Pairing: Nothing really, Sam/Reader ish

Rating: PG for language

You were asleep. Everyone was, it was 2 am. And you were having a damn good dream, too.

And then they rolled up.  Doors slammed, there was a lot of shouting, and you were suddenly wide awake, standing in the middle of the motel room, pointing a sawed-off shotgun loaded with salt at the door.

"Dean we have to talk about this at some point!"

"Not tonight, Sammy! It's 2 am, and I wanna get some shut eye!"

So do I, you thought in annoyance. You froze, poised for action, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. Then the door handle twisted, and it opened to reveal two hulking figures, shadowed and possibly malformed. The lights clicked on.

"Who the hell are you and how the hell did you get my key?"

It turned out that neither boy was malformed at all, just covered in about four layers of shirts each for some reason. The shocked looks on their faces made you pause. Had they expected you to sleep through that racket? Both boys' hands shot up, and the taller one dropped the set of keys he'd been holding. The shorter one, stepped forward, blocking what he could of the big one, and smiled in what he must have thought was a charming manner. It might've been, too, at any other time of day.

"Um...hi. Sorry, we must be in the wrong room, so if you don't mind, we'll just-"

"Don't move, Model Boy." He blinked, glanced at the bigger one and mouthing "Model Boy?". He shrugged, and Model Boy looked back at you, not moving. You stepped closer, pulling a flask out of your bag as you went and unscrewing the cap with one hand, using the other to keep the gun pointed. When you got it off, you splashed the contents at them, and when the did nothing but flinch and sputter a little, you relaxed a little more.

"Okay, not demons. Still doesn't explain why a moose and a model are standing on my doorstep."

"Again with the moose thing?" the bigger one complained, and after a jab in the ribs from the model, he sighed and said, "Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"

"Who's asking?"

"I'm Sam, and this is Dean. Bobby Singer sent us. Said you needed some help with a pack of demons down here?"

At that, you finally smiled, dropping the gun to bounce against your side. "Oh, so you're the Winchesters! Bobby talks about you boys all the time. I didn't know he'd be sending you to help me out." You laughed, gesturing for them to come in. The relief on their faces as they did, sitting at the little table and dropping their bags around them, made you laugh again. You plopped down on the corner of the unoccupied bed after shutting the door and locking it again, dropping the gun back by your bed.

"Tell me something, guys," you said conversationally as Sam set up his laptop and Dean pulled out a rather heavy looking old leather book, "Why are you in my room and not your own?" The boys exchanged a look, then Dean said, "The uh...the manager said that this one was free." You rolled your eyes and muttered, "Damn idiot's never gonna remember I'm here, is he?" All three of you laughed. "We'll get our own in a couple of minutes, once we're set up in here. No point in having two work stations, right?" Sam said, smiling at you goofily.

"No point in having two rooms either, I think." They looked at you curiously. "What? I'm perfectly willing to share a bed if you are."

You could almost hear them yelling "Dibs!" at each other, and you giggled. "Just for sleeping, you overgrown teenagers." The offended looks this earned you had you trying desperately not to fall over laughing. When you'd calmed down enough to speak again, you stood and walked back over to your bed, slipping back under the sheets.

"Fight it out amongst yourselves. As for me, it's too damn early for research, don't ya think? I'm hitting the hay again, as I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted."

The following whispered argument lasted twenty minutes before the lights snapped out again.

Sam won.