Title: Buddies, Pals, Compadres

Author: Silverkitsune1

Summary: Wallace Fennel. King of the Straight Boys…maybe.

Disclaimer: Neither Veronica Mars nor Supernatural belong to me.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Crossover with Veronica Mars. Slashy feelings all over the place. Wallace/Sam. Possibly one sided. Who knows.

Here's the thing about Wallace. He's straight. Straight as the Arrow of Light presented at a Boy Scout jamboree (though the use of the word jamboree might call him into question with a few people). But yeah. Wallace Fennel. Not one drop of gay in him. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

At least that's what he tells himself every time his stomach flips when the tall kid with the floppy hair who's playing him one-on-one in a pick-up game at the park makes a shot.

Now, because Wallace is the straightest straight man in the history of heterosexuality the phone numbers they exchange after the game ends aren't going to lead to anything but a few (very manly and hetero) basketball games. These, of course, can't be counted as dates because, duh, straight guys don't set up date dates with their basketball pals.

At least that's what he tells himself after calling Sam Winchester the very next day.

Now, because straight men don't date (well, other men) that of course means that the lunch they get after their second game is nothing other than two sweaty dudes grabbing a bite after basketball which happens all the time. So what if Wallace pays? He only does it because Sam eyes the supersized burger and fries (the one that comes with the sugar cookie) on the menu like a puppy that hasn't been fed in three weeks while pushing two quarters and four pennies around in his palm with huge sad eyes. Even straight guys can like puppies. Puppies grow into dogs, and Sam is a big guy which means he'd be a big dog which is the manliest pet ever.

At least that's what he tells himself. Even after lunch becomes six hours full of laughing hard enough to make his stomach hurt, and feeling ridiculously proud of himself every time he gets Sam's eyes to light up.

Now, Wallace he's maybe the friend of the friend's of Dorothy, but he's not in close personal contact with her; no phone numbers, no e-mails not even the occasional wave across the Neptune High School campus. This is how he knows that the kicked guts feeling he has when Sam waves to him through the back window of the muscle car, pulling away from Neptune never to return, is only there because he's losing the only friend he's got with a decent hook shot.

At least that's what he tells himself.