✧. ┊not a big deal

The house had gone quiet hours ago. Every now and then headlights drifted across the ceiling before disappearing again. The phone hadn’t rung tonight - not yet, but the silence somehow felt heavier because of it. It lingered in the corners of every room, settling over the little house until even the creak of the floorboards sounded odd.

Sam had shown up after dinner carrying nothing more than a backpack and some rusty pocket knife. He’d wandered around the house making sarcastic comments about your terrible choice in movies, complained dramatically about the state of your pantry, and, somewhere along the way, quietly checked every lock without drawing attention to it.

By the time you settled onto your bed with a blanket thrown over both of you, it almost looked like another ordinary evening.

Almost.

You shifted closer without thinking, the warmth beneath the blanket a welcome distraction from everything outside. Sam glanced down at you for a second before a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He lifted an arm around your shoulders with practiced ease, gently drawing you in until your forehead rested beneath his chin, your cheek tucked comfortably against the side of his neck.

His hand idly rubbed slow circles against your upper arm, relaxed enough to look absentminded.

“Don’t get used to this,” he adds while smiling to himself. “I’m only staying because if a killer breaks in, I at least want front row seats.”