Six o'clock really could not come fast enough for Sam. He had floated through the rest of the day after his amazing encounter with Dean earlier that afternoon, constantly getting distracted by the memory of it.

He took care of his work as best he could manage, the excitement of meeting Dean face to face without the barrier of plate glass between them building and building so much that by five-thirty he was a veritable bundle of nervous energy. But somewhere along the line his eagerness had begun to morph into apprehension the closer he got to the end of the work day, effectively sabotaged by Sam's overthinking brain; it was honestly the cause of many of his past failed relationships.

Nagging doubts and insecurities that spoke to imagined faults on his part was something Sam had been trying very hard to fix since his college days and he had been getting better at quieting those irrationalities, but he couldn't stop worrying now about the impression he might have made earlier. Had he been too hasty in giving Dean his number? Had he been too hasty in pulling his dick out in front of a guy he didn't even know? Christ, he still couldn't believe he had done that; he had just felt like he absolutely could not help himself in that moment.

Shaking his head, Sam blew out a shaky, pent up breath and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly aware that he was about to talk himself out of this date before it had even started. He had changed so much since his sophomore year, but old habits die hard. Everything is going to be fine, so just stop it, he thought to himself, Dean seemed to be enjoying himself as much as I did. Let's just see where this goes before you get all freaked out, Sam, okay?

He nodded firmly, brushing aside his doubts, before straightening his tie and exiting his office with his bag slung over his right shoulder. Finally making his way down to the lobby, muttering encouragements to himself the entire time, Sam came to a stop after he had stepped out of the elevator. He glanced around, pretty sure he looked nonchalant about it, trying to pick Dean out in the rush of people leaving the firm for the day. His heart rate kicked up when he didn't see him anywhere, suddenly indignant that he'd been stood up.

Dean and his car both growled at the red light, the fourth in a row, and he checked his watch again. He was running late and was now worried Sam would leave without him. Of course Garth picked today to ask for a lift home. How do you say "no" to the sweet goofball without feeling like douche of the year? You don't, that's how. But Dean had showered and changed in record time, the occasion called for a polo and khakis, and was just one light away from his date.

He'd spent the last few hours of work on autopilot, the memory of Sam's chiseled features and pointed jawline crumbling as he came floated to the surface with an amusing frequency. Whipping his dick out like that for him was so brazen but Sam's initial shy compliance was intriguing. Dean's time spent behind a desk had taught him that there were two types of professionals: those that are all about the kink and those that want to be all about the kink but didn't know it yet. As he finally pulled his baby into a parking space, he wondered what side of that fence the fluffy haired guy would fall on.

All about that kink I hope, Dean thought as he spotted Sam walking out of the building. His stomach did a small flip-flip at the sight of him and he practically jogged to catch him, calling his name as he crossed the parking lot. The guy was tall, taller than him even and at six foot one that was saying something. Suddenly he was anxious to get Sam home and naked; he licked his lips in anticipation.

But Dean's lecherous thoughts skid to a stop when he saw Sam's face, an impatient grimace that immediately bloomed into an insecure smile. His watery hazel eyes were the most endearing he'd ever seen, the softness over his brows and his shaggy brown bangs making him seem younger than he had earlier in the day. Dean felt a tug of guilt for making him wait, accidentally or not, the urgent need to make it right forcing Dean to reach out and lay a gentle hand on Sam's arm uninvited.

Sam quickly blinked back the mildly resentful tears crowding his eyes, another habit he couldn't shake, and was momentarily struck speechless by the electric connection sparking through him at that first contact. He drew his gaze up slowly from where Dean's hand still lay on his arm, centering it on Dean's eyes, stunned by the vibrant shade of green staring back up at him. Without the barrier of tinted glass and blinding backlighting, Sam was able to take in and truly admire the beauty that was this mysterious window washer. His short, dusky hair stuck up off his forehead, styled with a perfect amount of carelessness, and the hard edge of his chin was sanded with a sexy dusting of stubble, contrasting beautifully against the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Dean said, squeezing Sam's arm lightly before dropping his hand down to his side. "Getting back here was a bitch."

Sam nodded slowly, forcing an understanding smile, and chastising himself for believing that Dean had purposefully stood him up. He had felt undesirable for so long that it was still easy to forget that someone might genuinely be attracted to him. Dean watched the irritation dissipate from Sam's handsome features with relief and decided to move a bit backwards before moving forward, a dazzling smile lighting up his face.

"How 'bout we rewind here a little bit?" Dean's eyes shone brilliantly like sunlight glinting off cut seaglass and he held his hand out to Sam. "Hi, I'm Dean Smith."

Sam found Dean's smile contagious as he grasped his outstretched hand, giving it two professional pumps. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Dean. I'm Sam. Sam Wesson."

Dean's grin broadened beautifully and Sam felt a curious flutter tickle low in his belly. He brought a hand up, rubbing across the back of his neck and chuckled out a nervous little laugh as the early evening summer sun beat down on the both of them.

Dean glanced away for a moment, swiping at a bead of sweat that rolled down his cheek, then looked back up at Sam. "Maybe we should get out of this heat. I know a great brewery downtown that has some kickass burgers. How does that sound?"

"That sounds amazing," Sam replied, letting the last of the anxiety wash away, "As long as they serve kickass salads too."

"Rabbit food?" Dean asked with a laugh, taking a few steps backwards and gesturing for Sam to follow. "You're gonna need your strength later. I'm not sure a bunch of lettuce is gonna be enough."

Quicker than Dean could register, Sam was on him, chest to chest with a large hand at the small of his back, pressing him into Sam's firm chest. "I do just fine on rabbit food. I promise." Sam rubbed the tip of Dean's nose with his own, his eyes darting to Dean's lips, before letting the shorter man free and nodding towards the lot. He casually slid a hand into his slacks pocket and stepped away towards the cars, the very model of detached confidence. "Which one is yours?"

Dean stood slack jawed for a moment, a new habit Sam Wesson was creating in him, before breaking out in a crooked grin, pointing to his baby as he caught up to Sam's long steps.

"See that mint condition '67 Chevy Impala?" Dean asked proudly, digging his keys back out of his pocket. "That's the baby that is taking us for burgers. Oh, and salad," he conceded, holding his palms up in surrender after seeing the playful look Sam shot him. "I'm dying to see what healthy living has in store for me later." He winked at Sam and unlocked the passenger side door.

A heated coil of arousal settled low in Sam's gut as he folded himself into the seat and he had to shift a couple times to accommodate the swelling in his pants. He willed away the warmth chasing across his cheeks and glanced over at Dean as he settled into the driver's seat and started the car.

Sam cleared his throat and looked away as Dean maneuvered the car out of the parking lot. "So, how did you find out about this place?" he asked. He had been diligent about limiting how often he went out to eat and he didn't really know much about the restaurants around town.

"What, Rock Bottom?" Dean asked, pulling his eyes from the road for a moment to look over at Sam. " I've been there a couple times since I started working for the window washing service. It's just a chain restaurant, but it's really close to where most of my jobs are and they have a pretty decent selection of beers on tap that they brew right there in house."

They kept an easy chatter as Dean maneuvered his car though late afternoon traffic. It was light for a Friday night and he figured they must be in the valley between the "after work" and the "before the club" diners. That meant that his favorite table would probably be open. Friday night at Rock Bottom mean $15 micro buckets and the weekly beer pong tournament. Winner gets a free appetizer and you can't beat free.

Dean listened to Sam chatter about his mom's Roadhouse Bar & Grill and his dad's attempt at brewing. He liked the sound of Sam's voice, enough baritone for Dean to imagine husky whispers but with a lightness that spoke to his laid back disposition. Sam was a big man, filling in most of the space in the front seat of Dean's baby, but he had moved with a surprisingly silent grace as they had walked across the parking lot. If he hadn't watched Sam step to the door with him, Dean would have expected to enter the restaurant alone.

Their beer discussion came an abrupt halt as they spotted the beer pong sign and Sam's face lit up with excitement.

"Dude," he started, " I was beer pong champ for my frat. Do you play?"

"Do I play?" Dean asked in faux disbelief. "Man, I won this thing three weekends in a row last month. Deal us in, Darla." Dean nodded to the bartender as the hostess lead them to Dean's usual table. The hightop was situated between the bar and the patio with a perfect view of the beer pong tables and most of the televisions. Sam watched, more than a bit impressed and amused, as Dean effortlessly flirted with the waitress, earning them a free bucket of micros.

"So you're a frat, huh?" Dean asked when the waitress walked away. "I was Beta back in the day."

"No way! I'm Beta," Sam exclaimed, throwing up the hand sign. "University of South Dakota. You?"

Dean felt a bit intoxicated when Sam got excited. Something about this guy was making Dean crazy and he hadn't even had a beer yet. "KU Jayhawks," Dean answered, nostalgia and Sam making him glow. "I grew up in Lawrence, Kansas. Been forcing kids to chug beer since I was a teenager. We are so cleaning up tonight." He reached across the table and grabbed Sam's hand, running his thumb across the taller man's palm.

Sam stiffened for a moment at the contact, feeling a full-body shiver make its way from his toes all the way up to buzz around in his head before travelling back down his spine. "Yeah, I uh, I think you mentioned something about cleaning up earlier," Sam said, leaning toward Dean, voice pitched low. He drug his gaze up slowly from their joined hands, fueled by his newfound forwardness, and drug his tongue across his bottom lip.

Dean's pupils dilated considerably and he opened his mouth, about to say something in response, but was cut off by their waitress coming back to the table with their bucket of assorted microbrews. His mouth snapped shut and a sideways grin played at his lips as the waitress asked if they were ready to order.

Sam pulled his hand back gently to grab up a menu and glance over the options while Dean put in for his usual burger; Medium rare, double bacon, nix the lettuce and tomato. Sam's mouth watered a little at the sound of it, mostly just from the heavy timbre of Dean's voice more than anything, and he let the waitress know he'd have the Cobb salad with his dressing on the side.

Dean fished two beers from their bucket, cracking them both open and handing one over to Sam. They sat quietly for a moment, sipping from the frosty long-neck bottles. Dean let his eyes roam over Sam, studying him for a moment. He was looking out the window at his side, the last of the day's dying light splashing his angular face in a prismatic wash of soft reds and yellows and pinks. Sam brought his beer up, pulling off a long, slow draught and Dean was instantly mesmerized by the slide and dip of Sam's Adam's apple as his throat worked to swallow. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to push aside the table between them and lick a thick wet stripe up that long corded neck.

He instead blinked rapidly when he realized Sam had asked him a question. "Come again?" he asked.

Sam immediately choked on his own spit at Dean's choice of words and he coughed a few times before he finally caught his breath enough to repeat himself. "I just asked why you decided to move here? For your job?"

Dean took another pull from his beer and made a show of letting his eyes pass over Sam's lips again. He needed to buy himself a few moments to choose his words. He should have been ready for that question, it always came up eventually, but he just didn't expect it quite so soon. He usually didn't care what his dates thought about his past, male or female. He'd even used his darker days on a few occasions to land a partner or two in bed. But something about Sam's guileless eyes and sweet smile made Dean hesitate with the honest information, the fear of disappointing him again making him cautious. He set his beer on the table and began to tally the truths and the lies.

"Well sort of," he started, "I got bored with the desk job" (truth) "and wanted to try something different." (truth) "I sort of missed manual labor from my construction days." (lie) "I worked with my dad on the weekends on remodels while in college, ya know." (truth) "I guess I just fell into washing windows for my buddy when I needed a break from the big time architect thing." (half truth but mostly lie) Honestly, Benny had done him a favor letting him join his company after his stint in prison. No architectural firm would hire him now, not with a felony conviction on his record. But Dean would rather spend the rest of his life shining shoes than making the same god awful mistakes. He was never going darkside again.

"What about you?" Dean asked, taking the heat off of himself. "What are the odds that two midwestern frat boys would meet in the middle of Houston?"

Sam chuckled and shook his head in mutual disbelief. Dean wondered for the first time that night if maybe he and Sam would have been friends back in those college days, if they could still be friends when this hookup was over. Dean wasn't the kind of person that formed lasting attachments easily, especially because of his past, but with Sam, just in the few short hours he'd known him, he knew how damn easy it would be for him to fall. Hell, he could already feel himself heading in that direction more and more with each earnest smile Sam directed his way.

Sam's chuckles faded after a moment and he looked down at the bottle in his hand, absently wiping a few beads of condensation away with the pad of his thumb. The movement, as innocuous as it was, sent an electric bolt of desire skipping straight down to Dean's cock. He took a deep gulp of his beer, whetting his suddenly dry throat, and waited quietly for Sam to speak.

"I don't know what the odds are, but I'm guessing they're not that high," Sam said thoughtfully. "Houston, originally, was never part of the plan."

At Dean's somewhat confused smile, Sam elaborated, "I got my degree in criminal law from USD, and even though I'd graduated at the top of my class," Sam glanced away, blushing slightly at the boasting nature of his college achievements, but reminded himself that those achievements were a direct result of his hard work and continued, "I never dreamed I would find a job so far away from my hometown and in a city that was so big. I just figured I'd set up my own practice where I grew up. But I had always had my heart set on working for a District Attorney's Office." He paused for a moment, his jaw working tensely, before he said, "My little sister, Jo, was the real reason for that. She was the victim of senseless crime and never got the justice she deserved. I vowed to never let something like that happen again if there was a way I could stop it."

Dean turned his head away and drew his brows together in a sympathetic grimace Sam had been on the receiving end of countless times in those dark days and he decided to steer the conversation back to a less heartbreaking topic. Sam missed the anxiety as it crept across Dean's face, it vanished so quickly.

He coughed to clear his throat and began again. "So anyways, I got a call from Castiel Novak, the DA down at the Harris County CJC, the building you washed today, extending an invitation for an internship position right after I graduated and aced the LSATs. I jumped at the chance and when I got here and totally smashed the Bar, I was offered a full time position as a deputy DA before I even had 6 months of volunteer hours under my belt. I've been the top prosecutor for this county ever since."

Dean paled slightly, glad he'd held back, and Sam immediately felt a flare of regret burn through him for playing himself up so much. He was about to go on a somewhat customary self-deprecating jag when Dean broke into a beautiful crooked grin. Others had been intimidated by Sam's success but Dean seemed to embrace it, something Sam was not quite expecting.

"Looks like I caught myself a Boy Scout. Good for you, man!" he said brightly, reaching his hand across the table again to squeeze Sam's warmly. "You definitely kicked my ass in the credentials category, Sammy."

Pride instantly took the place of his momentary regret, both from the praise and the pet name, and Sam returned Dean's wide grin with one of his own just as the waitress brought out their food.

Dean picked up a fry, pointing it at Sam who was spearing a few leaves of lettuce on his fork, before chomping down half of the deep fried potato. "Okay, that's all totally awesome, and I'm being completely serious," he said as he chewed, "But you still haven't told me the most interesting thing yet."

Sam looked up from his plate and cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy and Dean's heart did a somersault. He shoved a couple more fries in his mouth and picked up his burger, motioning toward Sam's salad with it. "Why the rabbit food?"

Sam spoke around his first bite, "Not all of us have the luxury of working manual labor in the summer heat by choice. Some of us actually have make an effort for these muscles." Sam laughed at Dean's indignant face but continued, "Y'know, Sammy is a chubby 12 year old, well a chubby college freshman actually. Sam," he stressed, pressing a hand to his chest, "has lost about a hundred pounds between his bachelor's and his bar exam. It's hard work but worth it," Sam tipped his chin low and smirked at Dean, the other's mouth full of bacon and ground beef, "Because I get to bang hot window washers in my spare time."

It was Dean's turn to flush and fluster at the attention, coughing as he choked on his bite. How Sam went from sweet charm to smoldering sexuality was staggering and Wonderboy's performance before the tinted glass suddenly fell into place. His shy and bashful start all the way to his magnificent finish had been breathtaking in its simple sensuality and Dean figured Sam's weight was probably the cause. He wondered for moment if the man had had to defend himself against bullies as often as Dean himself did. Kids are as cruel to the fat kids in town as they are to the poor kids. But fat kids with a dead sister?

The kid (his puppy dog eyes and tad-too-long hair earned him that internal label from Dean) was something else for sure. He'd accomplished so much in such a short time and Dean felt genuine pride for him, his heart giving another tumble. Dammit, the night was not supposed to go like this, Dean chastised himself. Get in, get out, move on. Getting involved with a DA, junior or not, wasn't in the cards for a man like Dean. But, as he watched Sam compliment the salad to the waitress and take another swig of his microbrew, Dean was pretty sure tonight's romp was going to leave him wanting more. When was the last time he'd felt that way? Never, that's when. And he wasn't about to pass up on something like that.


Author's Note: We really hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! We have big plans ahead for these boys, so stay tuned!