As days went, today was particularly awful. Mind you, Sam had had worse days, significantly worse- like eight months back when his best friend Jess had announced she was getting engaged. Seeing as he had had a crush on her since they met in first semester at Stanford, her relationship status hadn't been easy news to take.
Dean's little 'comforts' afterwards hadn't been any easier.
Sam had never told his big brother about the awkward crush, but that hadn't seemed to matter, Dean just knew. Dean always knew. And for months after Jess moved out to Montana (of all the god forsaken places anyone could decide to live) his big brother was still trying to fix what wasn't broken to begin with.
Sam was over Jess, but Dean had seen something in Sam months ago that he thought he could repair.
And Dean was relentless.
So the brotherly-instigated bad days continued to come to Sam with pointed regularity.
Days like today.
Today was a stunning example of why Sam dreaded spending time with Dean outside of the house. At home his brother was just the same loving jackass that he had always been. But get him out in public where there were girls of any minor levels of attractiveness and he found them suddenly playing the 'have you met Sam?' game- where without warning Dean would turn to the nearest female, ask 'have you met Sam' and then quickly walk away, leaving his kid brother to flounder through an awkward conversation with a woman he had never met.
He hated that game.
He had threatened Dean with bodily harm last time they played.
And as such Dean had found a newer, better way to torment him.
He looked around the crowded restaurant again, glancing back towards the doors. Twenty minutes of sitting at the table by himself, six 'I'm running late' texts from his brother, and Sam was ready to leave. He could be at home studying for his finals instead of being stood up like some lonely prom date.
The three of them were supposed to meet when everyone got off work and school respectively. Dean, and a friend from his from work- and Sam didn't mind the guy who came in every few weeks to balance the books at the auto shop his brother worked at. Cas seemed like a nice enough guy, even if he was a bit strange. He was kind of sweet in a weird, close talking, intense eye contact kind of way… he made Dean laugh if nothing else. But the man took way too long checking and double checking his columns of numbers, and Sam was grateful he hadn't ordered anything yet because it would have gotten cold while he waited for them.
The waitress, Shelly or Shirley or something like that, came back with her wide, white smile.
"Can I get you a refill?" She pointed at his lemonade. It would be his third refill.
"Can I get a beer actually?" Sam tried a smile, and hoped it didn't look as fake as hers.
"Certainly, hon. I'll be right back."
And she wasn't lying, Sam was fairly certain that she was gone less than a minute before she returned to his table, except instead of a beer she had a blonde.
"Right here, hon. We've been waiting for you." Apparently the name wasn't special just for Sam and Shelly/Shirley smiled at the new guy. "Can I get you something to drink until everyone else shows up, maybe a beer?"
The guy glanced at Sam, pale grey blue eyes, before turning back to the waitress, offering a tiny, unenthused smile that was easily overshadowed by hers. "Yeah, sounds good."
"Great. I'll be right back." And just like that she left again.
"Hi?" Sam was half out of his seat, not sure what to do with the guy who was neither his brother or the dark haired accountant.
The man pulled out the chair opposite from Sam, sitting down like he owned the place. "Winchester, right?"
"… yeah. I'm Sam. I, uh, I don't think we've met."
"Sam? You're the one who's not the mechanic." He sort of nodded to himself, like he was sorting things out. "I'm Nick." And held out a hand for Sam to shake. There was the hint of a tattoo on his wrist, blue black ink peeking out from his jacket sleeve.
"Hi… Nick." Sam took the offered hand, it was cold to the touch.
They sat there for a strange moment, looking each other over like there would be a quiz later. The guy was older than Sam by a few years at least, gentle eyes, sarcastic turn to the corners of his lips, short, messy blonde hair, black tshirt under a leather jacket. He looked like a pleasant mix between the kind of guy who still goes out of his way to open doors for girls and the one who gets really loud and aggressive when he drinks too much.
It was those damn lawyer classed that taught Sam to over analyze and break down every new person he met. It was a new habit that he found uncomfortably intimate for his tastes.
He let go before the handshake could get too awkward.
Nick slumped in his seat, looking perfectly at ease, but he had the upper hand after all. He knew who Sam was.
"I'm sorry. I still don't-"
"I'm Castiel's older brother."
"Oh." Sam blinked. "Oh!" And he laughed, feeling like the existence of this sudden new company almost made sense. "Dean didn't tell me anyone else was coming. They aren't here yet."
Nick gave a nice, honest smile, even if it looked tired. "Cas sent me a text saying that they'd be late and to go ahead and order." He fished a phone from his pocket and set it down beside Sam's near the catsup bottle.
The waitress returned and placed two brown bottles between them, and seemed thrilled that they were ready to order. Sam had the distinct impression that she didn't like them holding up the table for so long. It was dinner time on a Saturday and there were people waiting to be seated. A table for four could be put to much better use than one guy ordering lemonades for almost half an hour.
She left them to place the order of a cheese burger and a large Greek salad with the kitchen and Sam remembered how uncomfortable it was to be in forced social situations with complete strangers.
"Castiel never mentioned he had a brother." Ah, awkward small talk, his old nemesis.
Nick laughed, startled and a little too loud, getting them looks from the table next to them. "He's got three brothers actually and I look forward to telling the other two that we weren't worth mentioning."
"Oh…" Sam hoped he hadn't just gotten Castiel in trouble, but Nick was still chuckling like this was a great joke so the younger Winchester figured that it would be ok. "So what number is Castiel in the, um… Novak line up?" He had to struggle to remember the guy's last name- he'd only heard it once and that had been months ago.
"He's the youngest."
"And you?"
"Second oldest." Nick hadn't even taken a sip of his beer but he had started peeling away the label. Long curls of paper littering the table. He looked up from his little mess, eyes still as pale as storm clouds. "Did you really order just a salad?"
Sam, who had been going to say something, found himself frowning in silence.
"I'm not judging or anything. You just don't look like the kind of guy who eats salads."
The perfect response to that seemed to be a confused shrug, so that is what Sam offered. "What do I look like then?"
Nick blinked at him, his small smile faltering before coming back apologetic. "I have no idea." He chuckled again, not much more than a low rumble, and he raised his beer in a bit of a salute. "I do know that I am god awful at small talk though, so here's a preemptive apology until our brothers get their slow asses here to mediate."
Sam found himself laughing. "I can drink to that." And he clanked the neck of his bottle against Nick's.
"To being uncomfortably stuck at a table with strangers."
Sam repeated the toast with earnest before taking a drink, finding himself smiling openly now. Somehow the knowledge that they were both uncomfortable with their shared situation made it less uncomfortable.
"So, Sam,?" Nick spoke with the rim of the bottle still pressed to his lower lip. "Are you a mechanic like your brother?"
"No." Sam grinned at the idea. "I don't have the patience for that kind of thing."
"Then I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you're attending the University."
"You're good at this." Sam glanced at his well worn backpack sitting on the chair beside him, knowing that the guess was fairly well educated. "How about you? Are you an accountant like your brother?"
Nick choked on his beer, laughing and covering his mouth with the back of a hand. "Good god, no. Do I look like an accountant?"
Sam looked again at the leather jacket and confusing edges of tattoos peeking now on both wrists. "You could be. I don't know what the official accountant dress code is."
"I think Cas is sort of the poster boy for number crunchers the world over." He took another drink, still cradling the bottle against his mouth. "I own a tattoo parlor off of Thirtieth and J."
"You own your own shop?" Sam was still young and occasionally wildly irresponsible, the idea of anyone owning their own business was a bit daunting.
Nick nodded, watching Sam for a long moment before speaking. "There are two kinds of people as far as I can tell, those who immediately start asking questions, about rates, what kind of work I do, those sorts of things- and then there are people who get that slightly uncomfortable look and politely ask things like 'you own your own shop'." He smiled around his bottle. "You don't have any tattoos, do you?"
Sam chuckled at the assessment, apparently he was just that easy to read. "I don't."
Nick grinned with a flash of teeth. "If you ever want to fix that, you're welcome to swing by."
Sam felt his shoulders go up, sort of defensive and guarded. "Needles kind of freak me out."
"Just don't think of them as needles. They're more like… pointy bits of metal."
"Oh, well that's completely different." Sam chuckled again, not at all eased by the thought of changing what he called them.
"Worlds different." Nick assured with a bit of twinkle in his sea glass blue eyes.
Sam shook his head and traded his beer for his phone. There was no new text from Dean, and Sam decided that he had been waiting long enough and he was now allowed to get annoyed with his brother.
-Cas' brother is suprisingly normal
-we've ordered
-if you two don't get here soon we're going to eat without you
Dean replied almost immediately, Sam's phone chiming to life.
-go ahead. Were still finishing up here :/
-what do you think of nick?
Sam frowned at his phone, because he thought that 'normal' was sufficient enough to describe the man, and from the few times that he had met Cas 'normal' was practically a complement by comparison.
-he's nice.
Sam couldn't think of anything better to say about the man sitting across from him, who had returned to peeling the last remnants of paper from his bottle.
-he's got busy hands
He added after a second, not sure why it was necessary to tell Dean this part, but Sam was finding it hard to not watch the other man's hands. Such distracting hands.
Dean was just as quick to reply, and Sam imagined his brother sitting beside his accountant friend, impatiently waiting, hovering over his phone as any means of distraction.
-cas says hes good looking
And that made Sam laugh, startled by the oddness of his brother's text.
Nick set his bottle back down, nudging Sam's. "Have they left yet?"
"No, but apparently you brother thinks you're good looking and my brother felt a need to tell me about it."
Nick got this little half smile, one corner of his mouth hooking at an odd angle. "Only 'good looking'? Last I checked I was better than just good looking."
"Brothers don't always know how to properly appreciate these things." Sam nodded knowingly.
-he's better than good looking
Sam passed the information along, wanting to clarify for Nick's sake if nothing else. Personally, he thought that the man looked like he needed a few days worth of sleep and maybe a shave- but he wasn't going to judge. The younger Winchester had spent the last week buried up to his eyes in law books and he was sure he didn't look all that much better.
His phone sparked to life again, dinging three times with new messages from his brother.
-cas showed me his pic
-knew he would be your type
-just didnt thnk it wuld be so easy
Sam frowned at his phone, not sure what to make of that, but from the corner of his eye he saw Nick's phone light up. Instead of texting back his confusion he watched the blonde pick up his phone in turn.
Angry little lines tugged at the corners of his mouth and his eyes grew dark. He started to text something slowly with one finger, jabbing each letter like he meant it.
Sam's phone lit up again, his brother's words growing less and less sensible.
-knew u had it in u
-go get him
He slowly set the phone back down on the table top, feeling it best not to answer until he could figure out just what the hell Dean was talking about. Easy? What would be so easy?
"I… I'm not sure that they're going to make it." He said slowly, mulling over Dean's texts as he spoke, like putting pieces of a puzzle side by side. Not quite together, but he was starting to see the picture that they could form.
"They sure the hell aren't." Nick all but growled and Sam looked up, startled at the change of tone. "See, now Gabriel pulls this kind of shit all the time, but I didn't think he would rope Cas into it too. Thought the kid had more sense than help him." He was more talking to himself than anyone else, his words in that same growling whisper as he slowly composed an apparently very aggressive text to who Sam could only guess was Castiel.
"What's going on?" Sam wasn't sure if wanted to know. He had a horrible feeling what the answer might be.
"Gabriel, brother number three, has this nasty habit of setting me up on these blind date blitz attacks- and you seem nice enough, but you aren't my type- if you know what I mean." His cold eyes flicked up to Sam's face then back to his phone. "He just doesn't know when to quit."
"Blind date?" Sam said slowly, tasting the bitterness of the words. Dean's text suddenly made sense and a quiet anger grew in Sam, boiling in his gut. "This is a date?"
Nick lowered his phone, the sharpness to his mouth easing slightly as he took in Sam's distressed pitch. "Cas just congratulated me, said he knew I would like you, and to use protection. Our brothers aren't coming. I doubt they ever planned to."
"I- I'm not gay." Sam winced at how loud his voice was and he tried not to look around to see if anyone nearby heard him. "No offence. I mean… but-"
"I'm not either." Nick had narrowed his eyes, mouth a thin, irritated line.
Shelly brought them their food, a hesitant smile and no banter, seemingly picking up on the heavy hostility between the two men. "Just let me know if you need anything else." She said quickly before scurrying off to another table.
The salad and burger sat between them untouched, alongside Nick's phone with its unsent message.
Sam struggled with himself, with the whole suggestion of what was happening to him. "Why the hell would Dean think it was a good idea to set me up with … with you?"
"How would I know? I've never met him." Nick grumbled, slumping, looking somewhat defeated. "But my guess is, if he's anything like my brother, then we're both here because he's an ass."
Any other time and Sam would have come to his brother's defense. But not tonight. Tonight he agreed whole heartedly.
A shared sense of betrayal stirred between them, and there was some comradery to be found in that righteous anger.
"What did he think was going to happen?" Sam tried to make some kind of sense of what his brother had done. "That I would see you and just have a sudden awakening of fabulousness?"
Nick made a rough noise, almost like a laugh but a bit too hard. "Awakening of fabulousness?" He rubbed at his eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe he just misinterpreted your haircut."
"Hey!" Sam bristled.
"Sorry, sorry." The anger seemed to be leaving Nick as quick as a sigh. "Today's just a crap day. I didn't mean it."
Sam's hands were pressed flat on the table, knuckles white. "Your burger is getting cold."
"Your salad is getting warm." Nick said snidely, but there was a hint of humor in there somewhere that softened his reply.
They ate in relative silence, brooding together without wasted words.
The world had gone wrong tonight.
Their brothers not only thought that they were gay despite no indications to the affirmative, but thought that they would also be good for each other.
No one needed to give any more strength to the idea by saying it out loud.
"So," Nick finally breathed, dragging one of his last fries through a little lake of salted catsup that he had made for himself. "How often does he do this kind of thing to you?"
"This?" Sam gestured at Nick, encompassing the whole of the man with an easy flick of his wrist. "This is a first for Dean. Normally he just buys drinks for girls in bars and blames it on me. Or when we go grocery shopping he'll have me push the cart, jostle me into someone else's, run off before they can turn around, and then they think I'm just clumsily trying to hit on them."
"You… go grocery shopping with your brother?" Nick raised one pale eyebrow at that.
"I live with my brother." Sam confessed in a tired way. "We've got a little house a few miles from campus."
"How old are you?"
Sam felt that same bristle as before, and he knew he sounded weirdly defensive. "Twenty-two."
"And you're majoring in…?"
"Prelaw." He answered quickly.
"Good." Nick sounded oddly relieved. "I was worried you would say Environmental Science or something. I don't think I could go through with this if you were some kind of vegetarian hippy."
"I'm not a vegetarian." He started to pick up his beer then hesitated. "Wait, go through with what? This isn't a date."
Nick was toying with his lower lip, looking oddly thoughtful. "What if it was?"
"What if it was what?"
"A date."
"This isn't a date."
"But what if it was?" He repeated.
"You lost me."
Nick raised a finger, opening his mouth like he was going to explain, and then stopped to tug at his lip again. He sighed sharply before starting over. "My brother, the little jackal, has been pulling this kind of shit for the past ten years or so. He insists that I would be oh so much happier if only I was dating someone, and apparently anyone will do at this point."
"And…?"
"And well, you're someone, aren't you?"
Sam looked at the man across from him like the complete stranger that he was. "I'm not any more gay now than I was when you sat down."
"Ah, but your brother obviously don't know that, does he? And apparently neither does mine." Nick got this grin, slow and hungry like a wolf would smile at a lamb. "Now I'm not saying that we are, or that we do any thing... you know...but what if we let them think we were?"
Sam had no idea where Nick was trying to lead, but he knew he had no interest in following.
"What I'm offering is a business proposal. I'm sure you've gone over those in your fancy school."
"What kind of business?" Sam didn't know that he could feel even half as suspicious as he suddenly did.
"Would your brother stop shoving you at women if you were dating someone?"
"Yes, but I-"
"Mine would. If he thought I was dating someone then he would leave me the hell alone. I wouldn't have to worry about him bringing weird women into my work or suddenly showing up at my house with strippers."
"Castiel brings strippers to your house?" Sam could not reconcile the image of the small accountant anywhere near strippers.
"No." And Nick laughed warm enough that it was obvious he struggled with the imagery as well. "No. I don't think he would even know where to find one. It's my other brother, Gabriel. And they aren't always strippers. Sometimes they're… well, they do a lot more for a lot less money." He glanced sideways at the table to his left where a young set of parents were trying to wrangle their small son into eating something other than mozzarella sticks. "But if I was dating someone he might let up on it a bit."
"That sounds like hell but I don't…"
"But what, you like getting shoved at unsuspecting girls?" Nick was all dripping sarcasm and disbelief. "I'm not saying that we do date I'm just saying that we don't tell them that we aren't."
Sam mulled the idea over for longer than he should have. The answer was no. It couldn't be anything other than no. He couldn't lie to Dean, say he was dating this man, just to have a few weeks of peace and quiet.
Peace and quiet.
"He would stop dragging me to bars… I would have time to study." All sorts of horrible possibilities swam through him.
The wolf smile was back, and this time Sam minded a bit less being the lamb. "You would have to stop going to bars with him all together if we were going to make it look convincing. You can come to my place, study to your heart's content, any night of the week. Gabriel won't come over if he thinks I'm with my… boyfriend." He made a bit of a face. "Hn. I don't like how that sounds."
"Boyfriend." Sam gave it a try and found it equally unpalatable.
But… he could study for finals. It was mid November now. He would only need to keep it up for a month, and then once tests were over…
"No." He was certain. "They'll figure it out. There's no way we could keep it up."
Nick looked a little crest fallen, toying with his empty bottle. He snagged a waitress and tipped the bottle in her direction. "Two more?" He glanced at Sam. "You want one too?" He turned back to the waitress before getting an answer. "Three beers, please."
She kind of laughed and nodded before going off to fill the request.
Sam was quiet, feeling guilty for even considering lying to his brother on such a grand scale.
The waitress returned and set down three more bottles and their check. "You boys can pay whenever you want. No hurry."
Nick drank, got halfway into the second bottle before looking up at Sam, his eyes suddenly alight. "I don't know about you, but for a little freedom from good intentions I am willing lie about my feelings for you for as long as it takes."
"I need some time to study, that's all." Sam was still caught between actually considering the proposition just to spite Dean- and absolute terror at what Nick was offering him. "I don't want to be in an imaginary relationship for the rest of my life."
"I'm not saying we drag it out until we're ready for the retirement home. I'm saying that after a few weeks or months of being real sweet on each other that we break up gloriously. And not like a shake hands, stay friends kind of break up. Something loud and public and awful."
Sam understood. If he went through a really bad break up, not just feeling a bit sad about a crush leaving- but a broken hearted, depressed kind of break up, especially when Dean would somehow blame himself for it- because Dean always blamed himself for things like that… well, he would leave Sam alone for a while. And Sam would have guilt trip fodder for years if he needed it. 'Remember that time when you set me up with the love of my life and he broke my heart?'
He couldn't do that to his brother. As tempting as it was.
His phone went off and Sam glanced at the messages as they came in quick succession.
-Im staying out late
-feel free to get your freak on
-u need it
-just text me when its safe to come home
Sam put his phone face down and looked up at Nick with grim determination. "I'm in."
.:.
They worked out some rough details while Nick worked out the excess of beer. He finished his bottles as well as most of Sam's while they outlined their plan of attack. It was agreed on that the best breakup possible would have to fall just before Valentine's Day for maximum effect. That gave them roughly three months to build up a believable relationship.
That meant one to two 'dates' a week during which Sam could simply hide at the school library or go to Nick's apartment which conveniently wasn't too far from campus and he could study in peace while Nick could put in extra hours at work or simply nap. Apparently he really wanted to get some napping in if he knew his sleep wouldn't be interrupted by his younger brother.
They shook on it.
Sam's deal with the devil.
He was Nick's (in title at least) for the next three months, and Nick was his.
His very own, very straight boyfriend.
And Sam realized that as low risk, low commitment as their arrangement was, it started in full force tonight.
Nick had managed three and a half beers, and despite the fact that he said he was good to drive himself home, the glaze in his eyes and his too easy smile said differently.
"Keys." Sam held out a hand and demanded in no uncertain terms.
Nick rolled his eyes. "You're my boyfriend, not my wife."
"And your boyfriend is telling you to give him the keys, because you're drunk. You're coming home with me."
"With you?" Nick sounded surprised. "No. No, we agreed that you weren't a tramp and all dates for the first few weeks would be in public places, then homes, then overnight. You can't start breaking the rules first thing."
"Tramp? I never said tramp, I said I didn't want to look easy." It was an important distinction.
"Same thing."
" 's not. And I'm driving you back to my place and making you coffee and we will spend quality new relationship time together until you're sober enough to get your ass back to your own place."
Nick looked at him, long and steady… or at least as stead as he could manage before finally holding out a set of keys. "You're going to be the bossy kind of girlfriend, aren't you?"
"Boyfriend." Sam corrected, snatching the keys away before the offer was withdrawn.
"Same thing." And Nick put down a pair of twenties with their bill, paying for them both, and stood.
Sam got up and where as he was not surprised to discover that Nick was a good few inches shorter than him, it was obvious that the other man was not quite prepared.
His eyes grew a little wider and his smile vanished all together. "Good lord. How did you manage to get that big eating salads?" He seemed to have startled himself and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at his words. "Sorry. The only thing Cas told me about you was that you're the brother of his mechanic friend and that you're tall. I should have guessed that he really meant it."
Sam looked down at the other man, wondering what mess he had gotten himself into.
Nick blinked into the awkward pause. "…I am drunk, aren't I?"
Sam nudged Nick towards the doors. "Come on, show me to your car."
As luck would have it, because everything else this evening had been going so well, it wasn't a car. It was a motorcycle. A red and black Triumph, beautiful British engineering if Sam remembered the make correctly. Dean said that they couldn't turn worth a damn and Sam wondered again how he always got himself into these kinds of situations.
The new couple argued over who should wear the single helmet. Nick said Sam should on account of he hadn't had much practice riding other than on dirt bikes in the sand when he was a teenager. Sam said Nick should because he was more likely to fall off.
Sam won out of pure stubbornness, saying that they could stand there in the fourty degree nighttime until Nick sobered up if he wanted to. It was his choice.
He drove slowly for safety's sake, but it made the whole trip take about three times longer than it should. It was a hard pace to keep with the night as cold as it was, prolonging the weather. The chill factor from the wind made it colder than the dark side of the moon and Sam found himself oddly grateful of Nick's arms around his waist.
It put the man's head close enough to Sam's that even with the helmet on he could hear the soft accusation of, "you drive like an old lady."
All Sam could really do was roll his shoulder, knocking into Nick, hoping that the aggression could be understood.
They pulled safely into the empty driveway and Sam sighed in relief.
Nick loosed his grip, pulling off his helmet. "Aw, you have an old lady house too."
The younger man looked at the freshly trimmed grass and the little white picket fence with its matching shutters and flower boxes.
"We bought it from a sweet little old grandma when we moved out here. She gave us a deal, said that Dean reminded her of her husband when they first got married." He smiled and waited until Nick climbed off before unstraddling the bike, feeling a little weak in the legs. "We stripped the wall paper and pulled up the pink carpet, but we haven't had much of a chance to deal with the exterior yet."
"Pink carpets? Sorry I missed that." Nick just smiled, tucking his helmet under an arm. "My keys?" He asked expectantly.
"Not until you've dried up."
Nick sighed as if the weight of the world was bearing down on him. "Yes, dear."
Sam put the keys safely in his pocket with a shake of his head and let them in the house.
He made a pot of coffee to share and got out one of his text books, not wanting tonight to be a total waste. Nick sat on the couch, graciously taking the offered mug and scooting over so Sam would have room beside him.
And very quickly, Sam realized that he had made one of the best deals of his life tonight.
Nick had been chatty at the restaurant, grinning and chuckling as they laid out the lies they would be sharing, but he grew quiet while they sat together on the couch. So quiet that every now and then Sam had to look over to make sure that the man hadn't fallen asleep or something. Nick was just there, comfortably within arm's reach, looking content with the world. Occasionally he would get up to refill his mug, or wander off to find the bathroom, but other than that he was a very peaceful studying companion. Who could want a better boyfriend?
"When's your brother supposed to be back?" It had been quiet for so long that Sam startled, looking over at Nick, and then glancing at the clock. It was almost ten.
"Oh… I was supposed to text him when it was safe to come back."
"Safe?" Nick gave him a knowing look before sipping loudly from his cup.
"Yeah…"
"The longer you wait the more ideas he's going to get about what we're doing... tramp."
Sam didn't feel a need to properly acknowledge that other than digging his phone out and showing Nick Dean's last texts.
"Get your freak on?" Nick looked up from the phone, trying very hard to not smile at Sam. "You've got a classy brother, don't you?"
"He's upsettingly classy."
"I can tell."
"You two will either hate each other or run away together."
"I would never leave you for your brother, baby."
Sam made a bad noise. "No. Just no. Dear is acceptable if you have to- but don't call me baby."
Nick chuckled in a decidedly sober way, soft and short and very self conscious.
"You know what? Dear isn't ok either."
"What am I supposed to call you?"
"Sam."
"There is nothing romantic about Sam." He dragged the name out, little smile lingering in his eyes as he handed back the phone. "Honey?"
"No."
"Sweet cheeks?"
Sam laughed. "No."
"Sammy?"
"No."
"Darlin'?"
Sam sighed.
Nick grinned before looking away. "Alright, darlin'. I think I'm good to drive now. You can let your brother know it's safe to come back and that your man-chastity is still in place."
"My man-chastity?"
"For now." And Nick winked at him.
Sam watched the other man stand and walk off to the kitchen, listening as the sink turned on. Nick rinsed out his mug and Sam had a sudden sinking feeling.
"We aren't saying we kissed or anything tonight, right? It was just friends." He wanted to make sure he could keep the story straight. They had decided not to write any of it down for the sake of not creating any incriminating evidence, but it meant that they would have to commit the schedule to vague memory.
The sink turned off. "…no. Nobody is kissing anyone." Nick came back into the room, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face as he tugged at his lip. "This is going to get weird sometimes, isn't it?"
"This is already weird."
"I think it'll be worth it." He confessed softly, a hesitant tone entering in.
Sam thought about the hours of peace he would have from his big brother, of the possible freedom he would have forever after from blind dates and unexpected hookups or being shoved at random women anytime he lingered too close to one.
"I want an easy out clause added." He said suddenly. "Either of us can instigate the breakup early if we need to. Done and over like it never happened."
Nick seemed to consider before nodding slowly. "Yeah ok, mister lawyer. But I bought my ticket for this train and I plan to ride it to the end. It's going to mean sleep and freedom and for that I will be as verbally gay as I need to to keep my brother off my back."
"Verbally gay?"
"Oh, the things I will be telling my brother about your ass."
What a horrible thing to say to someone you just met a few hours ago.
Sam found himself sitting with his head in his hands, those doomed words ringing in his ears. "This is never going to work."
"We'll be fine. You've just got to commit."
"I don't know if I can."
"Commit to me, Sam."
"Don't say it like that." He begged, dropping his hands and jumping slightly because at some point Nick had come to kneel in front of him.
"Sam, from the bottom of my bitter old heart- I am begging you. Let me have the honor of being your fake gay boyfriend. It's just three months. We can be awkward friends in private, and you never have to do more than hold hands with me in public and only if absolutely necessary."
Nick's eyes were almost warm, pleading and deep as he gazed fixedly up from where he knelt at Sam's feet. He smelled like cheep beer, slightly burnt coffee, and quiet desperation.
"First date," Sam said softly, "tonight we hit it off, not yet realizing our fabulousness, but thinking we might be friends. We won't call it a 'date', but we can get a little moony eyed when we talk about each other and the brothers can get suspicious." All laid out like they had planned at the restaurant.
Nick smiled, little light of victory shining in him. "I can call you in a few days. We'll make plans to do overly manly things together."
"All kinds of over compensation?"
"All over the place." Nick promised. "And they'll get suspicious, and in a few weeks when we've come out of our closets they'll tell us that they always knew."
"I can't believe I let myself get talked into this."
"Talked into? We're equal partners in this one and it's going to be perfect. We will make them regret ever daring to introduce us, darlin'."
Sam bore his teeth. "You're going to stick with that one, aren't you?"
"Until you give me a better one, yeah."
It was like all the horrible deals that he had made with Dean when they were kids. When he knew that it was going to end badly, but his brother's blind optimism always won him over in the end.
"Ok."
"Just ok?"
"What else do you want?"
"I don't get a nickname?"
"No." Sam said with a wide smile.
Nick laughed, comfortable and warm like they were already old friends. "You'll get there." He stood and held a hand out to Sam.
It was like a peaceful kind of agreement had finally been reached. Nothing had really changed from the original plan, but it set easier with him now. He slowly put his hand in Nick's and earned himself a weird look.
"My keys." Nick gently slapped Sam's hand away with a hint of a smile.
"Oh." And Sam felt like an idiot, but tonight was weird enough on its own that the feeling really wasn't all that important by comparison. He handed over the set of keys and walked Nick to the door.
Even after the bike vanished from sight, Sam could hear the roar of the engine for what felt like an eternity.
He could do this. It was just three months of hanging out with a new… friend. Nothing more.
It would be so simple.
No complications.
No commitments.
No hard feelings.
No way he could have known that he would find himself in way over his head before the three months were up.
If he had had any inclination as to what would be set in motion that night, he never would have agreed to the whole awful plan in the first place.
It wasn't worth it.
Three and a half months later Sam would look back to that night- standing on the porch and listening to Nick drive away- and he would think to himself, with the full and horrible knowledge that hindsight allowed, that it wasn't worth it.