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“Let me help you, shorty.” You picked up the cereal box that Sam was about to get, and handed it to him. In return, he greeted you with a bitch-face, which was even funnier since he just woke up, and his hair looked like a bird’s nest.
“What?” you said casually as you sipped on your coffee, acting as if you didn’t just call 6 foot 4 Sam Winchester a “shorty”.
Sam shook his head at you. “You know, you are not taller than me,” he pointed out as he got milk from the fridge.
You and Sam have been battling each other for the title of “taller” for about a week now. Since you couldn’t find the measuring tape anywhere, you proclaimed yourself as the taller one.
“Awww, come on Sam,” you said and came up to him as he poured milk in his cereal, “Just accept that I am taller, and we can settle this argument once and for all.”
For a second, Sam fell silent, and you wondered maybe you went too far with this joke, but the thought quickly vanished, as well as any other thoughts you might have had in your head, when Sam’s lips landed on yours. The kiss was quick, but it was enough for you to know you wanted more.
His hand came up to your head, moving away a string of hair away from your face, before he said, “Maybe there are pros to you being the same height as me.”
And he was right; neither of you had to kneel or stay on tiptoes to kiss each other. This was very convenient.