There was no good way to tell Dean that you planned to be taking his car somewhere without him. And really, you had to tell him, because if you asked it gave him the chance to say no. Sam's goal was to avoid that 'no' as best as he could. So when he grabbed the keys off the little table beside the door and Dean looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, sucking on his morning coffee, Sam felt the white lie readily forming in the back of his mind.
Ease into it.
"I'm taking the car for a few hours."
Dean's blink was slow, but not stupid. He was still fairly tired after pulling a double shift the day before. God only knew why he'd dragged himself downstairs so early in the morning- much to Sam's disappointment- because his brother being sound asleep would make this all much simpler.
"No." Came the clear dismissal, and so much for Sam's goal of getting through this without incident. "I've got to rotate the tires later."
"I was going to drive down to the beach for the day."
Dean frowned darkly into his mug. "You hate the beach."
"True, but the girl I'm taking with me is pretty excited about it." And here is where the lie started. So simple, you'd miss it if you didn't know where to look.
It worked like a charm. Dean suddenly lighting up like a Polish Church. "Well, alright, Sammy. A girl. Finally." So much pride and relief and joy, all in one sleepy brother.
"I'll be back later today."
"Dude, if the girl's even marginally attractive, keep her for the night. I'll worry about the tires tomorrow."
"You sure?" Sam was trying not to smile.
"How hot are we talking here?"
Sam pretended to consider this question deeply before shrugging. "Very blonde, mess of freckles, big blue eyes, and legs for days. I would say that she's aggressively cute, at least."
And the smile Dean wore was well worth it. "Then I'm sure. You've got my blessing. Go, and promise me you won't behave yourself."
Sam grinned, because it was the response his brother was looking for, and he left the house with the Impala, and only a small amount of guilt because he'd sort of left out the fact that June was only ten and that her father was coming with them, which inevitably would have been a deal breaker from Dean's side of things.
Some things were best left unsaid though.
Driving down to Nick's house, wincing at the summer sun that was cutting like a clean razor blade, and regretting his lack of sunglasses, Sam found himself just enough time to start to reevaluate exactly what the hell he was doing with his Friday morning.
Yesterday had been June's last day of class, and she'd called him on her walk home, asking when he'd be by to pick her for their sojourn up to Santa Cruz.
Sam had made some argument about the fact that he'd only half agreed to go with her, and nowhere at all had he volunteered himself to drive. But Nick didn't have a car, and June had practically threatened to start crying over the most broken of hearts should Sam back out of their trip now.
So he pulled up into the driveway of Nick's borrowed house, squinting into the morning light, wondering what the odds were that his ex might have a spare pair of sunglasses laying around.
His ex.
It was the first time that he'd really thought of Nick under that particular category heading. Sure. It had been there in the back of things for a few months now, but even his subconscious had started to make it official.
There weren't enough seconds for him to really let the title sink in before June plastered herself to the driver's side window. Her palms smooth and pink, her nose pressed flat.
"Your car is giant." She informed him, the words fogging white against the glass.
"Hi, June." Sam smiled and made a mental note to clean the window before bringing the car back to Dean- because his brother would surely have questions about the child prints all over the side of his baby.
"Can me and Meatloaf have the back all to ourselves?"
And the dog hadn't been part of the original deal. Dean would start considering fratricide if he found out that there had been a dog in his car. But it was a small dog… and Sam was going to have to clean everything before he came back home anyways.
"Sure… you wanna hop off the door so I can open it?"
She grinned against the glass, wolfish and remarkably resembling the impish kind of expression her father used to give, before hopping back. She was already dressed to go. Once more rocking Sam's old flannel, which he'd given up on ever getting back, a black one piece swimsuit, cut off jean shorts, and some flip flops with little plastic candy skulls on the straps.
Sam lumbered his way out of the car and kept his previous assessment of this kid. Agressively cute, and nothing less. "Is your Papa ready to go too?"
"... maybe?" She offered with an ambivalent shrug. "He's kind of slow in the mornings."
Which was an unnecessary bit of info, because Sam was well aware of what a slow starter Nick could be. They'd spent quite a few slow mornings together in bed. Sam trying to instigate anything good, and Nick slipping back into unconsciousness again every other minute despite the younger man's best efforts.
They found Nick laying on the couch, a fat little pug sleeping on his chest. The two of them breathing deep rumbling breaths together in a pleasing harmony.
"PaPA." June sang as she grabbed her dad's feet.
Nick snorted softly and opened a single, pale eye while one hand came up to sleepily cover the dog on his chest in an almost protective gesture. "Yeah?"
"It's time to go. Mister Sam is here."
That got the second eye open as well and Nick seemed to be forcing the world to come into focus, finding Sam where he'd stayed standing back in the front hallway."So he is."
"Have you seen his car, Papa? It's like a big black Cadillac. Like what the King would drive."
Nick sat up, letting the sleepy dog on his chest slip down to settle into his lap with a yawn, it's little tail starting to wag. "It's a Chevy, and it's his brother's. But, yeah. I've seen it."
"It's pretty." June reminded him. "And I get the backseat all to myself. Haha."
"Fantastic."
"And I'm gunna' stretch out and enjoy the scenery and you two have to be mooshed together in the front."
"Fantastic." Nick repeated with even less enthusiasm. Meatball was set on the floor and immediately began to prance around June, and then Sam. Sniffing at his ankles and making a collection of strange little dog noises. Sam paid an awful lot of attention to that dog instead of watching Nick pull himself up off the couch with a slow, lazy stretch that exposed just a hint of his very lovely hips.
"Do you have a towel, and sunscreen?" He asked June while keeping his eyes very firmly locked on the dog.
"I've been ready for weeks." June scooped up Meatball, and looked rather impatient. "Can we go now?"
"She gets it from your side of the family, you know." Nick pointed a crooked finger in Sam's direction, a joking kind of accusation, like a wife would rag on a husband for an unruly child. "Always go, go go. Never, please, or thanks for giving us a ride, Sam. She's a very impatient child."
Sam just stood there dumbly, watching Nick go shove his feet into a pair of boots (perfect for a day at the beach, by the way), and grab up his house keys.
"I told him thank you. And please." June insisted, looking up at the two of them, lingering on Sam for back up. "Right?"
Honestly? No. She said an awful lot of things, and all of them in a rather sweet, but very demanding kind of way that he didn't really mind.
"Please can we go now?" June tried. "And thank you, Mister Sam for driving us in your cool car, and for buying me ice cream for lunch, and-"
"What ice cream?" Sam asked with a laugh.
"Oh, you promised us both ice cream." Nick agreed, nodding along with June's eager smile.
And Sam was reminded for a second time this morning what kind of trouble he'd agreed to let himself get dragged into. He'd never been able to stand up to Nick for too long, and it always just seemed like a wasted effort to disagree with June.
A day alone with the two of them though?
He couldn't see a way that this was going to end well for him.
But then again, he liked it.
He liked the trouble. He liked the way that despite her offense at the fact that none of Dean's cassette tapes were Elvis or Cher, June was ok to settle for some Johnny Cash, and sang along to almost every song during the long drive up the coast. Just as Sam liked the way that Nick was joking with him again. Kind of tentative, certainly not anywhere close to where they used to be, but it was still noticeably there. Like the man was testing the waters. Trying to see if they could find a comfortable place between them that could still be mistaken for friendship. It would be a nice kind of place if they could figure out how to get there.
Nick spent most of the ride slumped in his seat. Arms crossed over his chest, and head back, eyes closed, because it was still a rather cloudless day and he'd given his sunglasses over to Sam who had needed them more as he was the one driving.
"How is it," Nick rumbled softly, "that the majority of speeders in this country are statistically young men between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five, and that you have a car that supposedly has a max speed of a hundred and twenty miles an hour, and yet you still manage to drive like a little old lady?"
"I do not."
"What are we doing, ten, twenty miles under the speed limit?" He asked without even glancing at the odometer.
"Are we in a big hurry to get there or something?"
"Yes!" June cheered, and Sam cracked a smile.
"We'll get there when we get there, geez, you two." He chuckled and changed over to the leftmost lane to pass a slower car.
"It's going to be dark by the time we get there." The edges of Nick's mouth had crooked up with the taste of a smile.
It would be less than half an hour more and the man had to know it. Not even lunch time yet, but apparently Nick had never gotten tired of teasing Sam.
"Well, then it will be just like old times, won't it?" He glanced at the passenger seat, trying to gauge the older man's response. "Just keeping up with the tradition."
And if Nick's smile going crooked was any kind of sigh, then it was still a socially acceptable amount of teasing going on. "You going to make it rain for us too?"
Had it rain both times that they'd gone to the beach? Sam couldn't remember that clearly. "No… but if you like we can go through a car wash on the way home and you can pretend it's raining."
"Oh, darlin', you know all the best ways to have fun. Don't you?"
And they weren't allowed to joke around like this if Nick was going to start calling him names.
Sam wasn't ready for name calling yet.
So he got kind of quiet and just listened to June singing Folsom Prison Blues, and tried to figure out how long it would take before Nick calling him 'darlin' wouldn't make his stomach feel like it was crawling with moths.
"Oh my God." June kicked the back of Sam's seat. "Do you see it, Mister Sam? Do you see it?"
"See what?" He glanced in the rearview mirror at the child who was smooshing her face against the inside of the window this time around.
"The freaking OCEAN." She giggled like a lunatic. Like someone who had never seen the ocean before- which, to be fair, she was. "It' .BIG!"
And true enough, through the dunes and the scraggly cypress and pines that were oh so very unique to the coast, there were glimpses of the endless shining Pacific.
"Dude," her grin was a flash of white in the mirror, "I'm going to pee in it as soon as we get there."
Sam started laughing so hard his chest hurt. "What?!"
"I've got a goal, Mister Sam. I am going to pee in every major body of water on this planet."
"You…" Sam couldn't get the words around his laughter. He glanced at Nick for help, but the man's mouth was a tight line as he fought to keep a straight face. "You must be so proud."
Nick made a soft clicking sound in the back of his throat and soundlessly mouthed the words 'I am', but that seemed as far as he was able to get before he was overcome in a surge of broken chuckles.
Meatball was lifted up so that she could get a good look at the ocean too. "Before I turn thirty." June kept on like she hadn't heard them or noticed that both men were not taking this news well at all. "That's twenty years, and seven seas. Which is roughly one trip every two and a half years."
"Sure." Sam couldn't reign in his snickering.
"Or one now, then two every six years after this, because there are some that are a lot closer together and would be easy to put in the same trip." She explained like it was just the most natural thing possible.
"You know," Sam bit his lip. "You dad does weird math like that too." It was actually really, unsettlingly cute how alike they were.
"Does he?" June rested her chin on the back of Sam's seat, eager and happy.
Except the only example Sam had was when Nick was figuring out the percentage of times during their fake relationship in which Sam would get to supposedly be on top during all that sex that they weren't having. And you know, there was no good way to explain that one to the man's daughter without feeling super uncomfortable.
He glanced to his right for some kind of help out of the corner that he'd backed himself into, but Nick had a hand over his face, his eyes narrow and bright with laughter.
"Yeah. He… he likes percentages, though."
"He's real smart." June agreed. "You know he was going to be an engineer? They know all the best maths."
"I…" Sam glanced one last time from the road to Nick and back. "I thought you went to school for art."
"Who goes to Stanford for art?"Nick cleared his throat and bit his lip as he did his utmost to get all that laughter back in check. Adjusting his seat belt in a way that almost belayed some kind of awkwardness. "If that's what I wanted I would have just stayed in Frisco."
"But ...you're doing tattoos, and you're an amazing painter."
"Yes, and thank you." He folded his arms back over his chest, settling in and finding a neutral kind of tone. "And it's what I like doing, so it's what I'm doing now. I used to like math, but I got over it."
Sam dug his fingers into the grooves on the back of the steering wheel and tried to process this new information. It didn't change how he thought about Nick- but it certainly was a strange, new thing to consider.
Young Nick, without his tattoos, wearing his stupid glasses while buried nose deep in engineering textbooks.
Which inevitably lead Sam to thinking about what he would have done if he'd met such a Nick in school. Between then and finding a spot to park a few blocks from the beach, Sam found that he'd run through and assessed just about every scenario in which he could have come across such a strange, younger version of the man beside him. What classes they might have had in common, or how they'd maybe share a table in the library late one night while studying for midterms. Each and every one of these daydreams took very sharp, warm turns and Sam had to keep steering his mind back to safer territories that in no way involved pinning a very blonde, very feisty man of his own age against the tall stands of research books. Kissing Nick while running his fingers over the clean little labels on the spines of the books, pressed together somewhere between six hundred-twenty, and six hundred-twenty nine point two.
Not that Sam has super specific fantasies like that or anything. No. That would be just inappropriate at this point, not to mention irresponsible.
The engine had barely ceased its rumblings and June was popping open the door and dancing out onto the sidewalk, Meatball on a leash at her side, sniffing the sharp salty air and wiggling happily.
Sam joined her, stretching his long legs and smiling, because even if he didn't really care too much for sunny, summer beach trips- as someone who'd grown up land locked by endless, dirt colored farmland in every direction, he could admit that this was a nice change of scenery.
"You two kids go on ahead." Nick told them, shouldering his daughter's beach bag and taking Meatball's leash. "We'll catch up."
"You sure?" Sam frowned, grabbing at June's sleeve to slow her down, because she believed in her dad and felt no need to wait for any more permission.
"Yeah. I don't want to slow you guys down. I'll be fine."
His leg.
Sam felt like an idiot. Sure, Nick was stubborn, and good at pretending that he was still just as fine as always. But it was stupid of Sam to forget that the man was still very much recovering from a rather major injury.
"Damn it, Nick. I can drop you guys off up at the Boardwalk and come back out here to park." Sam felt like an ass.
He waved him off so easily, shaking the leash, letting it jingle. "Nah. We're already here. I'm good. Go."
"He said we can go." June twisted against Sam's grip. "Come on, come on. I can hear the waves."
"You going to be able to find us out there with all those people on the beach?" He found himself getting pulled reluctantly down the sidewalk, one concrete square at a time.
"You're a little too tall to miss, darlin'." Said the blonde man with a limp, wearing a child's backpack, and holding the studded leash of a bouncing ball of fur.
Sam figured, if nothing else, he should be able to find Nick in a crowd. So he let June pull him along, towards the non too distant call of sand a surf.
And there, Sam got to stand witness to the wondering awe of this small child's first real confrontation with the sea. She stood still for the first time since he'd met her. Little flip flops sinking into the hot white sand, taking deep, hungry breaths, and then she broke free of Sam and took off running like a cannon ball.
"June!" Damn it. And she was small enough to get lost in all those happy families enjoying the perfect weather and the perfect beach, and Nick would actually kill Sam if he actually misplaced the man's only child.
He found her flip flops and discarded flannel in the sand before he found her. She was standing almost hip deep in the foamy water along with about twelve other kids, letting each wave lift her up a few inches as they rolled in around her, laughing wildly each time. Completely fearless.
"Come on in, Mister Sam." She called to him. "It's so cold."
"That's ok. I'll wait here for your dad… and guard your shoes."
"Suit yourself, lame-o."
"Hey,"
But June was bouncing and laughing and talking happily to the other kids who had waded out with her, and had no time for Sam to feign offence to her insults.
It was fairly surprising when, about half an hour later, Nick actually found Sam where he'd sat himself down in the sand. Well, Nick didn't find him. Meatball did. Jumping and barking and poking at his side with her small, pointed feet. But there was her owner, taut leash in hand as the little dog tugged relentlessly on the end of it.
"Where's June?" In place of a hello, as the man squinted into the bright white sun reflecting off the water.
Sam pointed to where the girl was crouched low just beyond the reach of the surf, beside two boys near her own age. They were helping her dig a moat to what would soon be a magnificent castle (as June had informed him when he'd questioned why she'd suddenly started bailing sand and water out into the waves).
"Those are boys." Nick said sharp and slow.
"My, god." Sam gasped, putting a hand to his heart in mock horror. "You're right. What will we do?"
"She's not allowed to know about boys yet." Her father insisted.
"They are brothers. Nine and twelve years old. Named Sean and Anthony. Their family is from Fresno and I already explained to them that if June left my line of sight I would hunt them down and feed them to the pelicans." Sam had, as temporary acting guardian, already given the boys a swift once over when June brought them by to introduce them and ask if they could all go off together to build a sand castle.
Nick frowned a little more before carefully lowering himself to the sand beside Sam and scooping up Meatball who was dancing erratically from side to side as she suddenly realized that there were quite a few birds nearby that she could be chasing. "Brothers are the worst kind of trouble."
Which was possibly very true, but Sam let it go, because he was equally fixated on the horribly protective feeling that he had right now, and the way that the young boys were laughing and smiling with June.
"What kind of ass thought it would be a good idea to invent little boys?"
"You do know that we were both little boys at some point, right?"
"Oh, and don't think for a moment that I don't know exactly what goes on in their twisted little minds." He growled. "Depraved monsters."
"They are building a moat for a sand castle." Sam eased.
"That better be all they're building."
"What's that even supposed to mean?"
"I don't know." Nick turned his head to see Sam, a hint of confusing underlying the grumpiness. "But I'm sticking with the whole 'boys are evil and she's too young' thing."
"It's just a castle, Nick." He soothed. "And if either of them so much as looks at her sideways I'll help you catch 'em- you can decide what to do with them after that."
This offer was considered long and hard before the man finally gave a sharp nod and he passed the pug over to Sam. "Deal."
Awkwardly juggling the small mammal in his too large hands, Sam wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing with the thing that was curiously sniffing at his stomach and crotch and any other part of him that she could shove her wet, flat nose.
"Sand's too hot for her feet." Nick explained as he slowly drew his knees to his chest and folded his arms around his legs, easily reading the flustered look that Sam must have been wearing. "She needs somewhere cool to sit."
"And that's my lap?"
"Best seat in the house." Nick rested his chin on his knees and had his head tilted in a way that he could manage to keep an eye on his daughter and those obviously nefarious young boys who were helping her.
Sam decided that it was best to not acknowledge such a statement, because whatever exchange it might lead to would certainly not do him any favors at this particular junction in his life.
A different approach was what they needed right about now.
"You smell like cigarette smoke." Sam could remember only too well the oddly sweet smell of clove cigarettes that he would now forever associate to that lovely, brutal conversation that they'd had many months back when he'd come to visit Nick after his accident.
" 's one of the reasons I let you two go ahead. June doesn't like it. So I don't do it around her."
"But... you don't smoke." They'd practically lived together for weeks at a certain point near the end of their relationship. And he knew, he knew that this man had a lot of interesting, and some very bad habits- but smoking simply wasn't one of them.
Nick was still looking away, Sam could only see the line of his face in broken profile, eyebrow drawing low, edge of his mouth twitching.
"Look, I'm not drinking anymore, and God knows I'm not having sex either. But my hands just start shaking so damn bad sometimes, and my mouth goes dry, and I can't- I just can't… I need at least one little addiction that I'm allowed to feel guilty about in my life, or I'm not going to make it."
Sam took that all in, chewing over the words and the spike of ire dug deep into them.
"I didn't know that you ever felt guilty for… drinking." Sam changed his mind at the last second, watching his own step, half panicked at what he'd almost let himself say to this man- and when they'd been getting along so well up until this point too.
Nick still didn't look over, so Sam was forced to watch the man's posture shifting, the curl of his shoulders suddenly riding a bit higher. "Sometimes, yeah. But … not with you."
Sam really wished that he knew whether or not they were actually talking about drinking.
And aside from later in the day, when Nick leaned over to steal a bite of Sam's ice cream cone (despite the fact that he was literally holding on to one of his very own and had no reason for such open mouthed thievery), nothing else that happened that afternoon really stuck to Sam. Just a warm blur of sun and sand and noise.
At some point he'd stripped out of his jeans and tshirt, to just the swimming trunks he'd wore under his regular clothes, and he'd waded out with June into the waves. He'd made sure she could swim first, then spent about half an hour throwing her out to see while she laughed and screamed.
There was also some lecturing from the little girl to her father when she found out that he hadn't bothered putting on sunscreen since they'd arrived. She read to him the back of the bottle that said it needed to be reapplied every two hours, then grumpily coated the man's already pink face, neck and arms with the gooey white stuff. It was a bit hard to tell who the parent and who the kid was in those few minutes. June lecturing on how Nick was far too pale skinned to be outside without sunscreen. He wasn't tan like her or Sam and he was going to get a sunburn and she wasn't going to take care of him tomorrow when he was all sore and grumpy.
Nick had laughed through the whole thing, which only made his daughter all that more adamant of the fact that tomorrow she was going out to play with friends and he could just be red and peely and she wasn't going to feel bad for him. Not one bit.
It wasn't until after dinner time, when the sunlight was waning, turning golden and rusty where it touched the horizon, as Sam pulled the Impala up into the driveway back in Stanford, that he looked over at Nick and realized that the man really had managed to get himself a truly spectacular sunburn across his nose and cheeks. The thing had taken its time setting in, and by the look of it, it was sure going to hurt like a bitch sooner rather than later.
Sam knew. He used to burn when he was a kid. One good scalding at the beginning of every summer when him and Dean would go out to visit their Uncle Bobby and spend days on end swimming in the nearby lake. But the red would peel away and he'd just soak up the sun until the dirt stains on him were indiscernible from the warm brown he wore across his shoulders and chest.
Nick would not be so lucky.
"Does it hurt?" He asked as he killed the engine.
Sleepily blinking, Nick turned in his seat, giving Sam a confused kind of look. "My leg…?"
"The sunburn- but yeah, your leg too. I mean, you were walking around a lot today, and getting pretty slow by the end."
Two different answers crossed over the man's face. Sam could see them both so clearly for only a heartbeat. The grumpy 'of course it fucking hurts' that naturally wanted to roll off the man after such a long day that had obviously taken a toll on him.
But what won was the less obvious reply of "I'll be fine. Don't worry about it." Complete with a small smile, oddly rather charmed by the fact that anyone would even bother asking him.
Sometimes it was just nice to know that someone worried.
Meatball made a soft chuffing sound behind them, wanting to be freed from the backseat. Glancing back, Sam realized that June wasn't going to be helping her little pup any time soon.
The kid had been rather uncharacteristically quiet for the last half hour or so, and apparently it was due to the fact that she'd fallen asleep. Slumped beautifully against the window, with her mouth hanging open just a touch, and her hair windswept and mostly escaping from her long ponytail.
"Aw." Sam chuckled. "I almost don't want to wake her up."
"A ska band standing in the yard wouldn't be able to wake her up." Nick said rather affectionately as he undid his seatbelt. "When she's out, she's really out."
"Worse than you?"
Nick bit his lip for a second, catching his smile before it could get away. "I think the word you're looking for is 'better' than me. She's a very skilled child." He opened his door and kind of hesitated. "Catch the damn dog for me so it doesn't make a break for it. I'll carry June in."
Which sounded like a feasible enough plan- only despite the fact that June couldn't have weighed ninety pounds even if she'd stuffed her pockets with rolls and rolls of nickels- Nick's leg almost gave out when he tried to gently lift her.
A rather colourful string of expletives escaped the man and he cradled his daughter to his chest, but pressed his shoulder and head to the side of the car for support.
Without really thinking Sam was there, gently tossing the dog back he'd been holding to his chest into the backseat of the car and taking June from her dad before he dropped her. "Hey, hey. I've got her."
Nick looked a little stunned, arms suddenly empty, bitterly frowning at Sam who was obviously in this moment much more capable than he was.
"Show off." He grunted and managed to catch Meatball before she could get all four of her fat little legs going at the same time and take off down the street as she seemed so eager to do.
"Can you go get the door, Nick?" Sam eased, trying not to rub in the fact that holding onto June was practically effortless for him.
"Can you go fuck yourself?" Came the surprisingly salty answer as Nick walked rather slowly up the driveway, trying very hard not to favor his leg so much. Lest there be any more open signs of weakness .
Pointlessly stubborn.
And really?
Sam couldn't think of two better words to describe this man.
"I've carried her to bed before without any problems, you know." He told Sam while juggling his keys and the door and the dog.
"I believe you."
"Don't condescend me, you overgrown moose."
Sam took a measured breath and just waited. Apparently hurt Nick was very much like hurt Dean. Aggressive and defensive, and Sam had done this too many times before to be dumb enough to acknowledge or engage.
The door was finally opened and Sam waited for Nick to go in first before gently asking where June's room was. All grumpy dad gave in response was something half mumbled that didn't sound so much like directions as it did a jab at Sam's hair- which was uncalled for, by the way.
So Sam pulled a face at him, and let his feet take him towards the back parts of the house that he'd never been to. There were only two bedrooms, and he felt some confidence in laying June down in the one with the purple paisley blankets and the Elvis poster. He didn't bother tucking her in. The house wasn't cold, and frankly, she was filthy. Sand on her legs and in the folds of her clothes. There was no need to get that in between her sheets.
He lingered in the hall outside her room, peeking into Nick's, feeling confused to glimpse the same old worn bedposts that he'd thought he'd seen the last of. Apparently when Nick had switched houses with his brother he'd left all his old furniture behind, except for the bed. And Sam felt a strange curl of happiness to see that bed again. He had good memories of that bed. Of many pleasant hours in that bed.
A rather rough few months had rolled over Sam since February. Some serious, slow passage of time to get him to that exact moment, where he found himself standing in a hallway, feeling sentimental over a bed that he wasn't going to be allowed to touch any more.
He'd honestly thought that he had been well and truly on his way to getting over Nick (at least as much as he would ever be).
But he'd spent the better part of this afternoon pointedly not watching the other man's mouth. And sure, maybe the body and mind were both willing, but apparently neither were up to the task. Wanting to stop wanting someone- and actually being able to do it were two vastly different things.
The water from the bathroom tap was cold and a little brassy tasting. Sam splashed a few handfuls of it over his face, feeling the warmth of his own skin. Wishing he could just blame the heat and his addled thoughts on too much time under the sun. He tried convincing himself that he was just fine- but there was a rather large portion of his thoughts devoted to contemplating what sort of outcome he'd likely get if he was brave (or dumb) enough to go back out to the front room, push the the other man into a corner and attempt to remap out the lines of his body using his mouth alone.
Nothing good.
Nothing good would happen.
Nick seemed tentatively interested in trying to remain friends, but hadn't given any indication of any ulterior desires most darkly. Not like what Sam was feeling.
It didn't have to be as complicated as Sam was making it though.
What was wrong with being friends?
The two of them had made frighteningly good friends from the night they'd met and the moment they'd realised that they would probably both always be at the petty and sometimes well meaning whims of their brothers.
They weren't made for each other, or anything nearly so ridiculous. But there were definitely some well worn grooves in both of them that fit each other rather nicely.
Sam dried his hands on one of the towels and smiled at himself in the mirror over the sink. It was a good smile. So good he almost believed it himself.
Now. Most importantly, Nick hadn't kicked him out yet. That was a good place to start. Also, the man was hurting and sore and feeling a bit defensive about all the above. So, Sam needed to do what a friend would do to try and help him out.
But what would a friend do?
Same thing as a boyfriend would- Sam decided- only with a hundred percent less kissing.
He found Nick in the kitchen, chest and shoulders pulled tight with his arms hooked over the back of the chair he was sprawled in. He almost looked at ease. He would have made a perfect picture if it weren't for his rosey sunburn and the pinch of pain lingering between his eyebrows.
"I'm making coffee, and ordering pizza." Sam announced and placed two rather different bottles onto the table. One small brown prescription bottle half filled with little white pills. The other a tall clear plastic one filled with almost lime green colored aloe vera.
"Coffee… and pizza?" Nick opened an eye, disturbed at the offered combination, but then he caught sight of what Sam had set out for him. "Now you're going through my medicine cabinet?"
"Someone has to take care of you, and June's sleeping right now." He pointed out as he got water for the coffee pot that lived on the counter. Sure, it was said with some authority, but it was all for show. Sam was bluffing. Expecting any moment for Nick to just tell him to get lost.
Instead, the man popped open the smaller bottle and fished out a single little pill, tossing it back and rubbing a hand over his mouth. "What kind of pizza?"
"The kind that delivers?"
"Fair enough." His pale eyes tracked Sam from the other side of the room, slow, almost lazy flickers. "Just make sure you order enough for June to have some tomorrow."
"...not tonight?"
"She sleeps like she means it." Nick got a hint of a smile, just a thin little matchstick flash of white teeth. "I'm worried one day the house might catch fire and we'll both just sleep through it."
Sam chuckled.
" 's why I let her get the dog. Figured that Meatball could do the Lassie thing if we needed it. You know, wake us up, save the day."
Sam looked off down the hall to see that the little pug had gone to sleep at the foot of June's bed, little feet twitching now and then as she dreamed. That was not the kind of dog that was liable to save anyone.
The coffee maker begged for his attention, making it strange percolating noises.
"Where are the mugs?"
Nick pointed and Sam set about making them both their own drinks just how they liked them.
"See now, here's the real problem." The man took the offered mug, cradling it gently between his hands. "It's hard to get rid of someone when you know they know how just how you take your coffee."
You don't have to get rid of me. Sam thought a little too desperately, but he hoped that his outer calm stayed a bit better intact.
He couldn't think of anything good to say in return, so he busied himself with digging out his cell phone and ordering them two pizzas. Which killed off about three minutes of time all together, and left him with the promise of half an hour standing awkwardly in this kitchen waiting for the delivery man to come knocking.
With a sharp hiss, Nick put down his mug. "God, even the steam hurts."
Sam latched onto the complaint as a welcome distraction. "Put some aloe on, you stubborn old goat."
"First off, do I look like the kind of man that would buy, much less use anything called aloe? And second, I'm fine."
Whether Nick had bought it, or if it was by the grace of his oddly protective daughter, or simply a relic left over from when Castiel lived here- Sam had found the aloe- and it was going to get used.
He set his own mug beside the sink and came over. In an easy movement he took hold of Nick's wrist with one hand, and with the other he slapped a painfully white handprint into that fresh, red sunburn on the man's forearm.
Nick choked, biting back some rather interesting words as he struggled to pull away. "God damn it. Why?" Demanded through his teeth in a half whimper.
"Because you're hurt and you're not winning any masculinity points by pretending you're not."
"Fuck masculinity points." Nick wrenched his arm away and blew on it as if that could somehow help. "That's not even a thing."
Sam popped open the aloe bottle and grabbed at Nick's arm again- and not surprisingly the man fought him this time. With some luck and no small amount of coordination, Sam managed to squirt a liberal amount of the goo onto the cheerfully red burn somewhere south of the man's elbow, and almost immediately he stopped fighting.
With a shaking sigh, Nick managed a small "oh."
"Yeah, oh." Sam repeated in a way that was half mocking, half tender. "Some nice pharmacist made this stuff just for occasions like this- and it'd be a real shame to waste it."
His eyes had drifted half close in a blissful, hardly appropriate kind of way. "They made it for when stubborn bastards don't remember to reapply their sunscreen even after they've been told to?"
"So you're a bit senile and forgetful in your old age." Sam made sure to evenly coat the man's whole arm, even his hand, in a snail slime slick coating of aloe before moving on to the next one. "But lucky for you, forgetful means you won't remember to feel stupid about this later."
"I would say that I'm looking forward to it, but I guess by your logic, I'll forget to do that too?"
"Almost definitely." He assured and tried not to think about the way that his hands slid so familiarly over the curve of Nick's bicep.
If it was at all weird to the other man, he didn't say anything. Nick just sat there, unflinching as he watched Sam work so carefully over his burnt skin, not even bothering to keep up some kind of self defense against the teasing.
But there was only so long that Sam could pet this man's arms before they'd absorbed as much aloe as they were going to. "Look up." He instructed with more authority than he felt.
Reluctantly, Nick tilted chin towards Sam. "I don't want that garbage on my face."
"Is your face burned?"
"... yes." His nose wrinkled and it made him wince. "But I-"
Sam placed his aloe slick hands on the man's cheeks and gently rubbed his thumbs down over the bridge of his sunburned nose. Taking his job very seriously, because he was afraid what he might let himself do if he didn't give himself fully to the task at hand.
This is what friends do though.
They take care of eachother.
And Sam was strong.
And Nick was stubborn.
"But it's my face." Came the muffled protest.
"Does it feel better?" Sam asked as he smoothed his fingertips up over Nick's high forehead.
"That's not the point."
"It's exactly the point." He got more aloe on his hands and carefully slid his them down Nick's throat while the man glared up at him. "I'm not sure where your ancestors came from, but it wasn't a place that got a lot of sun light."
"I've never had a good relationship with the sun." He admitted as Sam finished off aloeing him with a careful swipe to the back of his neck.
Sam went to the sink and rinsed the slick residue off his hands. "Not to start shit, especially since things have been going so… ok- but have you ever had a good relationship with… with anything?"
"Define 'good'."
Which made Sam look back over his shoulder, as it wasn't the almost too comfortable answer that he was expecting to get. "Uh, healthy I guess."
"Healthy?" Nick laughed as sharp and as bright as broken glass. "Never even considered giving it a try."
"I-" Sam caught himself, not really sure where he was going. Not sure if he was going to be brave enough. But this was just Nick. Just a friend of his. Someone he knew better than most people. Someone he used to be very relaxed with. "How did you do it?"
Arms hooked back over the back of his chair again, strange angle as he looked over his shoulder to where Sam was just standing there with the tap still running. The lines of his face had gone easy, relaxed, either the aloe was really that welcome, or the pain killer had started to kick in. "How did I what?"
"Get over it?"
Oh, but that was a completely blank and uncomprehending expression being directed at him.
Sam turned off the water and dried his hands on his jeans, buying himself a little extra time while he wondered why in God's name he'd decided to bring this up now. But it was bothering him just how effortless this all was for the other man. Driving him crazy in fact. How could it be so easy for Nick when it had taken Sam months to chase himself in a circle and find himself exactly where he'd been back in February.
"It." He tried to put more emphasis on the word, but realized how stupid he must sound. How like a needy, little kid who was wanting reassurance, and advice and pats on the head. But this was Nick, he reminded himself. Just Nick. And despite the many things that Nick was not- he'd always been fairly honest when asked direct questions. Uncomfortably honest. And that's exactly what Sam wanted right now.
Because you don't always want nice things.
Sometimes you want to hear someone tell you that they never really loved you in the first place- not that it wouldn't hurt like a son of a bitch to hear it- but it would make things easier in the long run.
And good lord, but was he really this insecure that now he didn't trust either of them?
He crossed his arms over his chest, but that didn't feel right, and he ended up running his hands through his hair instead.
Maybe he was this insecure. Maybe it was because he'd never had a healthy relationship with anyone either, and it would be almost reassuring to know that what had happened between him and Nick could still fit comfortably into that little column and that their relationship had never had a chance of working out the way he wanted it to anyways. That he hadn't somehow fucked up a good thing. That there was no 'good thing' for him to fuck up in the first place.
And it would be nice to hear someone else say it. To give some confirmation to all this fantastically horrible neurosis that he'd been fighting off for so long.
"Everything." He tried to elaborate and felt like an idiot. "How did you just get over us?"
That cleared a bit of the haze from Nick's eyes and he cultivated a frown. "Us?"
"Damn it, Nick. Me. How did you get over me so fucking easily? Because I could really use some advice here on how to do the same."
Startled, Nick laughed again, that tight, brittle sound that he did so well.
"Never mind." That horrible clenching in his gut hadn't eased and all Sam felt was worse. "I'll… I'll catch up I guess. It's just still awkward for me right now."
With a long, shaking breath Nick sat up a bit straighter in his chair. "I got over you?"
But Sam didn't hear the question in it. All he heard was a factual statement. One that he didn't really needed reiterated. Because he needed the how, not the what. He already knew that part.
Because it gave his hands something to do, Sam picked up his coffee. Didn't drink any of it, but he held it. Shifted the handle from side to side rather anxiously.
"All that college, and you're still this stupid?" Nick choked on his laugh this time, the sound of it rather painful. "You should ask for your money back."
"Sympathy isn't an emotion you do well, is it?"
"Fucking-" Nick ran his hands through his hair and made a face as his still slightly aloe slick hands made a mess of things. "Did you know that Gabriel hasn't spoken to me in months?"
Which was a fun fact, but Sam honestly couldn't see what that had to do with anything going on right now.
"You're supposed to ask me why, darlin'."
"Can you… can you just not call me that?"
The tip of Nick's tongue flicked over his upper lip in a way that wasn't the least bit distracting to the other man in the room.
"Fine."
The kitchen got really quiet and Sam realized that it was supposed to be his turn to say something.
"W-why isn't your brother talking to you?" Not that Sam cared. He was too caught up in the fact that he'd only wanted a simple answer and here he was being hauled up on dry land and left struggling to learn how to breathe. But according to the clock next to the fridge there was still about ten minutes until the pizza guy was supposed to arrive, and words filled the time as well as anything.
"Well, obviously it's because of how well I got over that whole dating you thing. Just a little casual fling that didn't mean shit." He waved a dismissive hand in Sam's direction. "You were just another little notch in my belt and my brother is just damn pleased with how well I'm handling just everything so damn well."
And Sam wasn't that low. Wasn't so broken as to not hear the self mockery in the man's words. He didn't mean them. Not all of them at least. "You seem like you're doing ok."
"Pfft. I'm the picture of mental health. I'm not going through withdrawls bad enough that I've got to see a doctor for them. Or having to take the bus everywhere because I wrecked my bike, and sold my car so I could by my own fucking kid which apparently I've had joint custody over for years but my family communally decided that I couldn't be trusted with the responsibility so they just never told me." He made just the barest hint of eye contact before dropping his gaze to the table which seemed more agreeable. "I'm not pinning like a lovesick anorexic over the only person I ever fell in love with who I can't even figure out how to talk to anymore. My brother who can't even hear the word balls without laughing his ass off has officially written me off as a lost cause. So, yeah. I'm great. Let me just sit here and give you advice on how to be as fan-fucking-tastic as I am, darlin'."
If Sam held the mug any tighter he was going to break it. He set it on the counter where it might be a bit safer. After all, it wasn't his mug and it would just be mean to go into another man's house and break his crockery. "Well congrats, Nick. I'm glad you're doing fine."
"I was being sarcastic."
"And I was being intentionally difficult because I don't know what else to say." He found himself very interested in the patterns on the floor tiles. "You've got a lot of crap going on in your life right now and here I am, whining at you about how my feelings got hurt." He felt like such a little kid right now. And maybe Dean had something with the whole not talking about feeling because it obviously didn't do anyone any favors. "I guess I needed a little perspective." Needed to pull his head out of his ass because maybe this wasn't all about him and he'd do well to remember it once in a while.
"Perspective." Nick snorted softly. "My leg's still killing me, Sam. Go- go to the front room and grab my violin case for me."
A blindsiding kind of request that came from seemingly nowhere.
"Uh… not that I don't still have wet dreams about the last time that you played for me- but now's kind of a weird time for a musical interlude."
Nick cracked a smile. "Just got get the damn violin case for me."
And from the night that they'd met, Sam had found it almost impossible to tell this man no. So of course he went and got the violin case.
With surprisingly adept fingers, Nick popped open the little copper clasps and lifted out the gorgeous instrument. But he didn't play. Didn't even pluck the strings. Just set it oh so gently down onto the table and then set about pulling up the velvet lining around the inside of the case.
"See now, back when I was in the hospital, right before they let me out, Cassy went through all my things to make sure I didn't have anything too exciting squirreled away for later. The kid knows all my best hiding places though and he found this." Nick pulled out a flashy little something from the hollowed out violin neck support. He set whatever it was down on the table with a solid sound- and despite how long the younger man stared at it, he couldn't make it make sense.
"There's your perspective, Sam."
Apparently they were making perspective in the shape of gold rings these days.
"This is why Castiel's been trying to shove you at me- and this is why Gabriel won't fucking talk to me. This is how well I 'get over' people."
No one made a move to stop him, so Sam lifted up the ring. It was small and cold and heavy. It was just a ring, but it made everything make that much more sense.
He felt like he finally understood Nick.
Sam understood why such a stupid fight over practically nothing had been enough for them to simply not be dating anymore. They'd certainly never had any official end to it. They'd just stopped.
And Sam got it.
"You still have your wedding ring."
The only person Nick had ever really been in love with. Sure. Obviously. Guy falls for a girl back when they're in highschool. Never really gets over her no matter how much hell she drags him through.
"My wedding ring?"
Sam put it back on the table. It wasn't his. He shouldn't be touching it.
"My god. What the fuck is wrong with you and Cassy? Just assuming that I'm somehow that fucked up." Nick let his head fall back as he groaned. "I threw my wedding ring into the Pacific about ten years ago. Gabriel was with me. We made a whole night of it. He still sends me an anniversary card every year in memoriam." He sat up a bit straighter, jaw set as he took a turn holding the ring, rolling it between his fingers. "This one I bought just a few months back."
However, Sam's brain chose that moment to shut down, and all he had was a whole lot of nothing.
"I'd help you hide a body." Nick read softly. Little words etched into the inside curve of the ring- and Sam just had to believe him, because from the few safe feet back that he was standing all he could make out where the barest of scratches in the otherwise smooth finish.
"Do you remember that?" He didn't look up. "We were both sick- and you told me that you loved me. Not enough to help me hide a body, but you wouldn't call the cops on me either. And I know you were just joking around, but damn it, if it wasn't the single sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me." He bit his lip. "I- I don't know. It seemed like the right thing to put- but you should have seen the jeweler's face when I asked him to engrave that on the inside."
"Nick… I don't-"
"I can't tell you how to get over anything because I don't know how. But you'll get there soon enough on your own. I believe in you. You're a smart kid. Then you can set me down and explain how to me, because I'd love to know."
The pizza man chose that moment to finally show up. Knocking at the door like an unwelcome wake up alarm. Sam shook his head at Nick- not that it meant a damn thing. Not a yes. Not a no. Not a 'I have any idea what you're getting at because I still have some level of self preservation left at this point'.
It was just a 'give me a second'.
He just needed a second.
So he went and paid for the pizzas, passing a couple twenties to the kid on the porch with an forced cheerful 'thank you'. Then he got to stand there with his back to the door, holding two very warm boxes and trying not to have some kind of cataclysmic break down because it suddenly dawned on him for whom Nick had bought that ring.
Emotions came and went, faster than a riptide- and Sam felt almost nauseous by the time he settled on something solid and tactile that he could work with. A nice clear emotion that didn't make him feel muddled or confused.
He tossed the pizzas down onto the counter, and turned to this man who had caused him so much grief.
"I thought about it- and you know what? Fuck you, you giant jerk."
A flash of confusion bloomed over Nick's face, and then the man was suddenly grinning up at him. "There we go. I was wondering when you were going to get mad at me." An almost eager laugh. "All these soft, sweet, tender feelings scare me shitless. But mad I know how to handle."
"You lied." Sam felt white hot. Like this was the biggest insult that he could manage.
"I would never lie to you, Sam." So smooth and sincere, and Nick could go to hell for all Sam cared.
"You- you told June you didn't love me." Which, if it had been said in any other tone of voice would have sounded weak, injured. But for now it was just self righteous and indignant.
"Really? That's what you're going to lead with?" And Nick rolled his eyes. "Have you never actually had a fight before?"
"You lied to her."
He groaned again, obviously not taking Sam's open anger seriously. "I try not to on principle- but it's what she needed to hear right then."
"Why?" He bit off the word.
"Because she's too damn young to understand that some people just aren't meant to be together. That it doesn't matter if I'm still ass over tit in love with you, because it was never going to work."
"I'm not too young." Sam came to stand over him. "So go ahead, Nick. Why won't it work? I'd love to hear this. Tell me. Tell me why I have to go to bed at night by myself. Tell me why you haven't kissed me in me why you'd buy me a ring but never ask me a question. Because I honestly can't think of a single good reason why you're doing this to either of us"
"It's because you are young, Sam. You're young and you're stupid- and I know this because I was young and stupid, and time only fixed one of those problems for me."
Oddly, these were not comforting or endearing words. "I'm not stupid."
"Yes, you are. You think you're in love with me, but- but it's just a crush, Sam. And all crushes feel like love, right up until the point that you get over them. And I can tell you from experience, you will get over it."
Which was probably not meant to be even half as insulting as it sounded. "What, so you get to be in love. But not me. I'm just confused and don't know any better?"
"Yes." And more than anything, Nick just sounded relieved that Sam was finally starting to understand. "My God. Why would you ever want to be in love with someone like me in the first place? You could do so much better. How do you not see that? Because I sure as hell do. Everyone does. And don't get me wrong, I was fully prepared to scrape my sorry ass off whatever curb you were going to kick me to once you realised it too- but I've got June to worry about now." He ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. "She was asking me last night if I thought you'd mind her calling you Uncle, instead of Mister. She's gone through enough shit in her life without having to get herself emotionally attached to the perfect man, only to have him leave her to start a real family with some nice, intelligent, attractive little college girl whose perfect for him."
It was too ridiculous to make sense. "At least this fictional woman I'm leaving you for gets to be good looking?"
"Well she wouldn't be some scruffy, scarred, old man, with an alcohol problem, that's for sure."
Sam pressed his thumb to the headache he could feel starting at his temple. "Are you really telling me that we broke up because you decided that I was going to break up with you at some distant future point- and you wanted to just get a jump on it?"
Nick sucked on his teeth. Soft distracted kind of noise as he visibly got his thoughts back in order.
Sure, Sam was reeling. So mad his hands were shaking. But Nick was doing a rather admirable job in keeping his calm. Like he'd been waiting for this argument for forever and was almost relieved to just get it out.
It's damn hard to argue with someone like that.
But he was going to try.
"You don't get to decide these things, Nick. Just because we had one little fight- which I apologized for- doesn't mean that I changed my mind about you. People have fights. They disagree. They say stupid things. It's normal. What's not normal is taking a few stupid words said in a stupid moment and making a giant life choice around them."
"Someone says 'I love you' so you marry them. Someone says 'I don't' so you don't. It's actually very human to make giant life choices around people saying stupid things that they don't mean."
"I never said 'I don't'." Sam bristled in his own defense. "I said… I said you'd make a terrible father- which I didn't mean, and obviously I was wrong about. So please just let it go already."
"It's not about that. Coming back from the church- you didn't say a damn thing to me that my brothers haven't been telling me for years. I was mad, sure, and I left to go lick my wounds. But it wasn't anything new." Nick used his good leg to push himself away from the table. The wooden chair legs making clattering sounds as he moved to more fully face Sam. "But then I drove my bike halfway through a minivan, and it gave me time to think… I had a lot of time to think. And maybe I lied to June about still being in love with you, because she'd too young to understand that I'm protecting her. And I'm protecting you."
"Protecting-" Sam repeated the word. It meant nothing to him. Nothing at all. "What the hell were you protecting me from?"
"From all the fucking stupid shit I'm going to put you through. That I put everyone through. I'm a train wreck. I'm a miserable son of a bitch and you deserve someone who's good to you."
"You were good to me."
"I was never even half as good as you deserved and you know it." Nick managed to sound so very bitter. Openly hating whatever part of him he was letting out right now. "Somewhere in the back of that big brain of yours, you know it. And sooner or later you'll just-" Nick made these odd little starburst movements with his hands, tight fists and then splaying his fingers wide.
"You selfish-" Sam huffed sharply. "You can't just-" this little heart to heart had done nothing at all to make him any less angry at this situation. His breaths coming out of him shallow and furious. "Of all the stupid, fucking miserable- I don't know if I want to kiss you or punch you in the fucking face at this point."
Nick leaned back in his chair, arms wide open, defenseless. Saying with his expression alone 'take your best shot, I'm right here'.
It wasn't an offer that Sam was prepared to pass up. In a rush of anger fueled adrenaline, he caught Nick by the front of his shirt, dragging him halfway up out of his chair and kissed him roughly. Forcefully. Like he intended to leave an imprint behind that Nick would never be able to erase. He kissed him like a goodbye. He kissed hard enough to leave bruises- and Nick didn't so much as flinch.
Sam let go, trembling, standing up straight and trying to catch his breath. He looked down at Nick. At the man just sprawled in his chair with a utterly stunned expression.
"I… thought you were going to kissed back." Sam confessed uneasily, marveling at how badly he'd managed to overstep himself.
"I thought you were going to punch me." Nick raised a hand to his mouth, lightly touching his lip before looking at his fingers like he half expected to see blood.
Sam fought down this wild, panicked, tearing laughter that he felt rising up in his chest. He wanted to say something, but Nick was touching his mouth again. Tongue flicking out to catch whatever taste Sam had left behind. Distracting and derailing as all hell.
"Well… this is a bit awkward then. Isn't it?" He asked, more a question for himself than for the man looming over him like a storm.
"Yeah." Sam couldn't help but touch his own mouth too. Wondering what it was that Nick was feeling for. Curious if he would be able to find it any easier. "I, uh- I have a suggestion though... if I may-" he sort of let the proposition linger between them.
Nick gave a vague 'go ahead' gesture, reminiscent of the one he'd given less than a minute before. An arm open like he was ushering in whatever stupid idea that Sam might have- because it had already come apart rather spectacularly. This was simultaneously the weakest and the most infuriating fight ever had by two men.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world though (because in that moment, for Sam it was. It was the only thing that he wanted), he grabbed Nick again. With one hand on either side of his jaw, he held Nick in place and kissed him. Tasted him. Bit at his mouth until the other man groaned and finally pressed back against him.
His mouth fit against Sam's, opened fast and deep because evidently Nick did not fuck around when it came to fucking around. Tongue sweeping into the younger man's mouth as he pulled him down and held him there with long fingers threaded through Sam's hair, tugging at him almost desperately. He tasted like salt, like the sea, like coffee and corruption and the bitterness of his damned cold heart.
He tried to stand, to come up out of his chair, but Sam wouldn't let him. Sinking to the floor between the man's knees, his own hands catching at the back of Nick's shirt, his fingers fitting into the trenches of his spine. Anchoring him. Holding him. Holding him because he hadn't been allowed to in months and part of him knew that the chance might be taken back away from him as quickly as it had been offered.
It wasn't a rising kind of passion between them. It didn't build. It just exploded into existence. It was as tangible as a third person in the room. There and upon them and violent and abrupt- just as present as it had been absent for so long.
An almost painful contrast, and Sam found himself half sobbing with relief as Nick broke their kiss to burry his face in Sam's throat, tongue soothing in long lines, tracing over all the dents that his teeth were leaving.
Pizza and coffee were long forgotten in favor of just the pure pleasure of getting to reacquaint themselves with the other's body. Nick's warm chuckles as Sam's hands slid up under his shirt to those ticklish spots over his hips. The way that the older man would grin viciously every time that Sam bit his lip. Nick pulling Sam's hair to turn him towards better, deeper angles that were of benefit to their frantic kisses.
Sam loved this man. Loved him so much it hurt. So much it made him stupid- but none of that was here right now. It was all surface stuff. Just carnal and physical and god, but he'd missed being touched. And Nick had always been very, very good at touching him.
He found himself swearing rather uselessly when Nick caught his hands, dragging them away from his belt, rather forcibly holding them further south, closer to his knees.
"No." The older man said in an almost believable tone, breath trembling out of him in short bursts.
Sam looked up from where he'd mouthed a wet spot on Nick's shoulder. Perfect little crescent from his teeth dark against the fabric of his tshirt. There must have been something of all that perfect abandon on his face because whatever else Nick was going to say to him devolved into a poorly enunciated "fuck me." Not a request so much as a general statement of how very screwed up this whole thing was.
His thumbnails slid so easily up the inner seam of Nick's jeans, coasting along the line of muscle underneath. "No?"
"Please don't make me try and be the voice of reason here." He begged as one of Sam's thumb nails clattered down over his zipper.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because friends who fuck isn't going to work for us." His eyes were dark with lust as he fought to find logic in his own request. It was a visible struggle. "I- I can't disassociate that well, and you fucking can't either."
There wasn't enough blood in Sam for him to think clearly and to be as hard as he was. And all he could manage to do was shake his head but it wasn't an answer and it sure as hell wasn't an agreement.
"I'm an all or nothing kind of guy." The words were halting, pained.
"Then it's All." There wasn't anything to consider here. He'd made up his mind months ago. "I want All."
"I can't, Sam." Nick whispered. A confession. A secret. "I'll lose myself in you and when you leave I won't- I can't."
Sam got this hooking sensation in his stomach, his throat suddenly thick. He couldn't look at Nick anymore, staring at the center of his chest instead. "I'm not leaving." He squeezed the man's hips because that just so happened to be where his hands had drifted to. "Do you see me trying to leave?"
"You already did once."
Which struck him like a slap, bringing Sam a little more clearly to the here and now. "You told me to."
"And… and I'm doing it again." Nick's hands left his wrist where they'd been rather useless, sliding slowly up Sam's arms, catching his elbows, pushing so gently. Not at all like he meant it.
It was a feeble attempt at self defense.
So insincere, but still so present that it hurt to see.
Sam felt staggeringly stupid, almost willfully blind that it had taken him this long to really read the cracks in this man, so see how deep the faults ran. Irreparable down to his foundations. And there wasn't going to be a way to patch him back up. Nick had been left and let down too many times over for Sam to say anything that was going to be believed.
He'd come to this party years too late. He'd missed last call. Missed it by a long shot.
Stunned, he sat back on his heels. Catching his breath. Reigning his mind back into some kind of order. He'd been kneeling up until that point, keeping his height around that of Nick sitting. But he didn't need that now. Tugging his wallet from a back pocket, Sam fished out a small piece of paper with slightly curled corners, the edges worn soft from having ridden around in his wallet for so long.
"I'm cashing this in." He said almost defiantly, handing it up to Nick for inspection.
The man's eyes went a little wide as he took the handmade coupon that he'd given Sam for Christmas. "I- this isn't really the right time to use this."
"It specifically says it has no expiration date."
"Sam-"
"I'm not saying sex." Although that's what the bit of paper promised, illustrated with little stick figures and all. And it was besides the fact that despite Sam's best attempts, his body hadn't fully switched gears yet and sex still sounded absolutely amazing, thank you. "I just want to stay the night."
"Shouldn't… shouldn't you be getting your brother's car back to him?" Looking for any excuse, and it wasn't like Nick. Not this way. He was backing himself into a corner and it made Sam want to just scoop the man up and hug him.
"I told him that I was taking a cute blonde to the beach. Dean told me to stay out all night with his blessing."
"Of course he did." Nick said in such a pained way.
"Give me one night… Nothing special." He made promises he didn't want to keep. "I'll even let you pick the movie."
Nick sagged, a beaten look to him. "Are you enjoying this? Is it fun for you?"
"Not in the slightest." He'd never been more honest in his life.
"You're- you're not laying in my bed like that… just so you know. I wasn't going to say anything, but you taste like salt and sand- and I just washed my blankets." The walls were going back up, and Sam recognized this as the man that he'd pretended to date for months. So carefully guarded in all the worst ways. Joking and rough in the oddest of places because apparently that was somehow better than being open.
"I'll take a shower." He promised, pulling himself up to his feet, needing to use the table for support.
Nick was still holding that folded little bit of paper, watching Sam move like he'd never seen the likes of it before. Alien and mistrusting. "You can borrow some sweats… top drawer of my dresser."
"I know." And Sam wished that he didn't.
But he did.
He knew exactly where to go get a change of clothes because he'd seen Nick do it so many times over. And he took a shower, hating that the soft blue towels smelled just like he remembered they would.
What was he doing here?
He stood watching his dark outline in the fogged up mirror as he shook water from his hair. His skin scrubbed free of any lingering hint of the day that he'd had. And he knew in the pit of his stomach that he should just leave like he'd been asked to. Like he'd been told to. If he cared at all about whatever flimsy supports that Nick had built up around himself in an effort to keep his footing- then Sam would be in his own home right now. Probably sharing a drink with his brother or something equally as stupid and useless to this very messed up situation.
But Sam was treading water here and not yet willing to give up and simply sink down into the darkness.
He found Nick simply sitting on the edge of his bed. Apparently having abandoned the kitchen after eating a few slices of pizza and then tossing the boxes into the almost otherwise empty fridge. It was a slow and hesitant hunt and it ended with Sam just standing there in the doorway to the room, feeling too stupidly big for his skin. Awkward and half dressed in just the borrowed pants.
Glancing up from the tablet cradled in his lap, Nick's gaze danced over Sam's face, then down over his bare chest. He smiled like a mask, the expression not quite reaching his eyes.
"You do know that lawyers aren't supposed to be built like you are- right? They'll take one look at you and flunk you on the BAR exams on principle."
"You know… you've told me that before." The words clumsy in his mouth. "But I think it'll work as a good intimidation tactic in the courtroom."
"Is it really ethical for a lawyer to take his shirt off during his closing statements?"
"I don't think there are any rules against it."
The smile became a bit more genuine, even if just for a few seconds.
"So, uh- what are we watching?"
"We're watching you and me make complete asses out of ourselves."
"Oh… but I've already seen that one." Sam sighed with some manufactured disappointment. "Recently, in fact."
Nick chuckled, his feet kicking back and forth almost idly as he set the tablet aside, the screen dark. "You make me a complete mess. You know that?"
"I have it under some authority that you were this way long before I got to you." Sam took a tentative step into the room. Not at all sure of the stability of the ground he was walking on.
Nick watched him. Unnamable things passing through those eyes of his that were still far too dark to trust. "Come here."
Which sounded like a trap if Sam had ever heard one. "I-"
"If you're staying then turn out the light, close the door and get the fuck over here, Sam Winchester."
Sam did as he was told, mostly because he couldn't think of a good reason not to. Nick was just there, watching him. Waiting expectantly. And for someone who'd just shot him down with so much painstaking care, there was far too much leniency going on right now.
It was the nature of their relationship though.
Sam had never really knowing if he was coming or going. Right side up, or tumbling down, down, down.
Nick held a hand out to him like a peace offering- or a consolation prize. Just a warm shadow in the dark of the room, hardly discernable in the faint starlight that was creeping through the crack in the curtains. And Sam reached for wasn't any other alternative left in him.
Then Nick was using it as a lever, steering Sam with the weight around his wrist. Pulling him down to the bed. Pushing him. Crawling over him, a knee slotting between Sam's as Nick kissed him. None of the urgency from the kitchen. Just slow. So painfully slow, with one of his hands cupping the side of Sam's neck, feeling the pulse of the younger man thundering beneath his skin.
They didn't have sex.
After all, Sam had made some kind of sideways promise that he wouldn't try for it. That it's not why he wanted to stay. But they kissed like they hadn't in any recent memory, and every time that Sam tried to say something Nick would shift against him, startlingly rough friction where the sharp edge of his hip would grind down against Sam, causing the younger man to gasp and forget his words. Every single damn time. It was a dirty tactic- but really, they'd both run through the gammat of everything that they'd had left to say earlier, back in the kitchen. Anything Sam had now was either just a tired argument, or something that Nick simply wasn't going to allow him to give voice to.
And they stayed like that. Laying wrong way across the bed, both of them with their legs half dangling off the mattress and so much wasted space because they'd tangled themselves together instead of risking spreading out. Kissing and touching in place of talking- but in time they ran out of that too. Tired and probably a little bruised.
Nick was this solid, comfortable weight against Sam's chest. And a hand that was still kind of cold, skin clammy despite the fact that it was early summer (and hot enough that Sam could feel the sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat), was tangled in his hair.
With his eyes closed, Sam kissed the man's wrist where it rested along the side of his face. He listened in the darkness to the sound of Nick's breaths slowly even out. He waited until the last possible second, to the point that Nick must have been teetering on the brink of sleep, surely too tired to cut him off.
"I love you." He whispered, and even that was far too loud in the otherwise silent room. "You know that, right?"
"Sam, don't." Nick mumbled into his chest.
The words crawling against his bare skin, making him shiver despite the heat. "No. You have to say it."
The man grunted defiantly as he held onto Sam a little more solidly, curling against his side.
"You told me you wouldn't ever lie to me." Sam spoke with his mouth still against Nick's wrist, feeling those raised, new scars pressed against his lips. "So, I love you. And you know that. Right?"
"I know you think you do."
Sam bit him, very gently.
His fingers tightened in Sam's hair. "I know you do." Nick admitted reluctantly.
The younger man didn't have the heart to make Nick return that dreaded, three word confession. He probably could have. Could have coerced one last 'I love you' out of his friend. But he didn't. He just listened in the darkness, to the gentle sound of Nick falling asleep- and that was good enough.