Title: That Thing
Author: Evil_Little_Dog
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: This is a derivative work, and, as such, I make absolutely no money writing this. Darn the luck.
Summary: Sam's being vague and evasive.
Notes: Written for the LJ community, Comment_Fic.
"You remember, the one time, with the thing?" Sam was saying into the telephone, shooting a glance at Nate that warned he really shouldn't ask what the one time with the thing was. "No, the other time. Yes, with the - that's the one." He chuckled, but it sounded forced to Nate. "Right. Right! Okay. So now we're on the same page, and...what? Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I'll take care of - I said I would, didn't I? Okay, see ya." He pressed the button to disconnect the call and turned to Nate. "Okay, we need to saddle up and move out of here."
Nate waited until Sam shoved a couple of duffle bags in his hands to ask, "The thing with the thing?" as innocently as he could.
Sam shot him a dirty look. "Don't ask."
"I'm just curious, I mean, I'm supposed to work with you, right? So that means I need to know what's going on." He tossed the bags into the trunk of the Cadillac. Sam always had nice cars, Nate had noticed. "I mean, I'd hate to do something wrong."
Sam opened the door to the car and climbed in, not answering. Nate hopped into the car, half turning to Sam. "Mike would want me to get this right, wouldn't he? C'mon, Sam."
"You're better off not knowing," Sam told him as he started the car, and he repeated it multiple times as he drove them to the rendezvous. With each repeat, his irritation grew. "Look, Nate, seriously. Better. Off. Not. Knowing." He guided the car into an alley with a small parking lot. Three other cars were already parked, all equidistant from each other. Sam took the fourth position, and opened the door. "C'mon, Nate, get out," he said, as Michael started walking toward them.
"Right," Nate said, the corner of his mouth curling down. Stepping out of the car, he realized Michael was nearly on top of him. "Hey, bro," he started to say, when Michael hauled back his fist and slugged Nate, sending him straight to the asphalt.
When the stars finally stopped spinning around Nate's head, he realized Sam had a hand right in front of his face. "C'mon, Nate, get up."
"What was that?" Nate slapped his hand into Sam's, using the leverage to get to his feet.
"I told you, Nate, you didn't want to know," Sam said, adjusting the front of his shirt and trotting off to join Michael and Fiona, waiting for them both.
~ end ~