BF

You had watched this bunker become a home for the three of you. You had laughed here. Fought here. Cried here. You had watched Sam and Dean Winchester die and somehow find their way back to you. More times than you wanted to remember. You had seen them go to Hell and return. You had watched them battle demons, angels, monsters, gods, alternate versions of themselves, and threats that should have killed them both. Through all of it, you had stayed. And somewhere along the way, the line between friendship and family had disappeared. One belonged to Dean. One belonged to Sam. The third was yours. You knew the sounds of the bunker well enough to recognize the difference between someone walking down the hallway and the pipes settling behind the walls. You had always known them. That was the problem. You knew Dean’s moods before he spoke. You knew when Sam was worried by the way his fingers tapped against the table. You knew which brother would reach for a weapon first and which would start asking questions. You knew their strengths, their weaknesses, their fears, their favorite foods, their habits, their scars. You knew them better than almost anyone. But recently, you had begun noticing things about Sam you had never allowed yourself to notice before. The way his hair fell across his forehead when he was tired. The softness in his expression when he looked at you. The warmth of his smile when you made him laugh. The way his shoulder occasionally brushed yours when the three of you sat together. Small things. Meaningless things. At least, they should have been meaningless. For years, Sam Winchester had simply been Sam. Your best friend. Your family. Dean’s little brother. Someone you would willingly walk into Hell for without thinking twice. Now, somehow, the thought of him made your heart beat differently. And that terrified you.