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Shout out to crisptrepidation, the best beta reader, editor, and idea suggester in the biz! This chapter would have been an absolute mess without her help and I am very, very grateful for her.
Chapter 4: The One Man Party
SAM
Sam tugged at the collar of the dress shirt under his jacket and nervously straightened his tie as he stood at the door of Artie's dorm room. He always felt uncomfortable whenever he was wearing a nice suit, as he hadn't even owned one prior to signing the contract with the modeling agency. Now, it felt like he had one in every color, for every occasion. Tonight, he had opted for light grey with a navy blue tie.
He had been attempting to work up the courage to knock, but Sam realized he couldn't just stand out in the hallway forever. Artie was waiting for him. Silently, Sam counted to three before knocking and promptly sticking his hands in his pockets.
"Coming!" He heard Artie say from inside.
A moment later, the door opened and there was his boyfriend (Sam had been saying that word to himself all afternoon. Artie was his boyfriend. That thought alone made him giddy).
"Whoa…" Sam's eyes grew wide and he let his voice trail off as he first laid eyes on his hot date for the night. "Artie, you look great! Seriously!"
Artie blushed and bashfully averted his eyes at Sam's compliment. He had on a classic black suit and a white dress shirt, which he paired with a cardinal red bowtie. His brown hair, which was usually swept across his forehead, was gelled back. It didn't go unnoticed by Sam that, despite his formal attire, Artie hadn't opted to lose his glasses for the night. Sam liked that. He thought Artie looked adorable in them.
"Thanks," Artie replied, his face still pink. "You look nice, too."
They stayed there, silently looking each other up and down in the dorm building hallway with goofy, hungry grins on their faces. They were both still getting used to being able to allow their gazes to linger on one another so openly, no sneaking around necessary. This only lasted for a moment, however, before they both realized what they had been doing and snapped out of it.
Artie cleared his throat and placed his black fingerless gloved hands on his wheels. "Should we go?"
"Yeah, yeah, let's head out," Sam nodded, running his hand through his hair. His blonde hair was on the longer side, and he usually wore a bandana to keep it out of his eyes. It didn't exactly fit in with his formal look for the night, so he'd gone without it.
The boys went down the elevator and out the front door of Artie's building, embarking on the trek across campus toward Fraternity Row.
"Thanks for coming to pick me up," Artie said, looking up at Sam and flashing him a grateful smile. Ever the chivalrous Southern gentleman, Sam– who lived upstairs in the Sigma Chi house, where the date party was taking place– had gotten ready extra early in order to give himself time to go over to Artie's dorm beforehand.
"I'm a little nervous," Artie confessed with a sheepish smile, as the two of them headed down the sidewalk, side by side. "I've only ever been to one other frat party– the one where I met you."
"It's just not really my scene, I guess," Artie shrugged. "I don't know much about sports. I don't drink very often. I don't exactly have the 'usual body type' that a frat boy would be interested in. Around those guys, I feel like I stick out even more than usual." Artie sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that… I know that I'll be out of my element here, and I like to prepare for everything, you know? So that I have as few reasons to worry as humanly possible. And this is what I do– I worry. A lot. And don't get me wrong, I'm really, really happy and excited to be spending the night with you," Artie was quick to add, and Sam could see when their eyes met that he was being sincere. "I'm just not totally sure about the other guys just yet. I can't really blend in anywhere, but being the only guy using a chair and with us being the only, um, gay couple at the event… It's just a lot of attention, and I'm not good at handling it all."
Sam continued to listen thoughtfully as they walked. The self-deprecating tone to Artie's honest confession just about broke Sam's heart. He'd never seen this side of Artie before– the self-conscious and anxiety-ridden side. For as long as he'd known Artie, he'd always admired his brazen confidence; the way he worked hard, and always seemed to believe in himself. What Sam hadn't realized until now, was that that wasn't always the case. Artie had doubts about himself too, and now that he was opening up to Sam about them, Sam knew that he needed to navigate the field and choose his words carefully. He didn't want to scare Artie off. He didn't want to make Artie do anything he didn't want to do or put him in any situation where he'd be uncomfortable.
Sam didn't have any issues talking about his childhood or the different aspects of his life, but he had picked up early on that it was difficult for Artie. There had been many times where it seemed like there was something Artie wanted to tell him but didn't have the words to say it. Sam never pressured him, because he truly felt that Artie would tell him everything when he was ready, and he could be patient until that day came. Now that it seemed like that moment was here, Sam didn't want to send him retreating into his protective cave by accidentally saying the wrong thing.
"You won't have to handle the attention alone. I'll be right there with you. I won't leave your side," Sam gently assured him. "You've already met a bunch of the guys, anyway. Puck, Matt, Mike, obviously you know Finn… But you don't need to be nervous, Artie, everyone's gonna love you. Promise."
Artie cast him a doubtful look, but Sam meant what he said. How could they not fall in love with Artie as Sam had? In addition to all of his obvious positive physical traits (he's very easy on the eyes, after all), Artie was, by far, the most interesting person Sam had ever met. He knew the answer to every question Sam could ever think to ask, yet still had questions and curiosities of his own. He was a charmer and a people person– he could hold a conversation with just about anyone, about anything, and still leave them wanting more. For someone who spent so much time behind the camera, Sam couldn't help but think that Artie would be an undeniable star if he were to step in front of it. Then, of course, there was his cuddly, silly side that Sam loved so much and knew that Artie saved just for him. Artie's one-of-a-kind and Sam couldn't believe he was all his.
Getting the chance to have Artie on his arm and show him off tonight felt like a dream come true. When Artie had voiced his hesitations about the party just now, however, Sam found himself suddenly worried too.
"I'll tell you what," Sam began, placing a gentle hand on Artie's shoulder, signaling for him to stop wheeling for a moment. "How about we come up with a secret code? Some sort of silent signal we can give each other if we want to leave the party. That way we can be sure that both of us are having a good time."
Artie smirked as he listened to Sam's plan.
"I'm listening."
"Well, maybe we could, like, fix our hair or scratch our foreheads with our pinkies or something," Sam suggested, shaking his head at how ridiculous those ideas sounded. "I don't know. Just some sort of gesture to let the other one know we want to get out of there, without being obvious to anyone but us."
"Well, it takes a lot of effort to get my stubborn, straight hair to look this good, so I will not be touching it for the foreseeable future," Artie joked. "So forehead pinky scratch it is."
"Forehead pinky scratch. Got it."
Sam had a little pep in his step as they walked the rest of the way to Sigma Chi. He liked that he and Artie had developed their own secret form of communication, only to be understood and used by the two of them. It made him feel special– to have something that was just his and Artie's– and he hoped that it helped Artie to feel a little more at ease too.
When they arrived at the house, Sam gave Artie a helpful push from behind up the stairs leading to the front door, profusely apologizing for the house's inaccessibility in the process.
Upon entering the house, they were met with music blasting from one corner, where there was a DJ set up. Sam knew that the pledges had been tasked with moving all of the house furniture into the basement to make enough space for a dance floor and for the many sharply dressed frat boys and their dates to mill about.
Despite the fact that everyone had been doing their own thing prior to Sam and Artie's arrival, it felt like the heads of everyone in the room had turned upon their entrance. Everything that Sam had assured Artie wouldn't happen– the looks of judgment and surprise from the other attendees, the feeling like a spectacle– had come true. Everyone was staring at them.
"They're all looking at us."
Sam swallowed hard at the way Artie's voice, which was barely above a whisper, shook as he spoke. He noticed the tips of Artie's ears go red.
"They're staring alright," Sam noted before clearing his throat and changing his perspective. "At our hotness."
The last statement was so unexpected that Artie didn't have a chance to hold back the amused chuckle that the comment had elicited.
"Come on. Follow me. I have something I want to show you."
The kitchen was less crowded than the rest of the house, just as it had been on the night they met. Sam opened the refrigerator and Artie craned his neck to see inside.
"What is it?"
"I got us a pack of White Claws," Sam told Artie. That very first night– just a month ago– they had shared those same beverages right in this exact spot. Sam couldn't wrap his mind around how much of his life had changed in such a short amount of time.
He took two cans out of the box, cracked them open, and poured the seltzers into red Solo cups, handing one to Artie.
"Cheers!" the shorter guy exclaimed, holding his cup in the air, which Sam gladly tapped with his own before taking a sip.
They emerged from the kitchen, ready to join the rest of the partygoers, but not quite sure which direction to head in first. Sam didn't have many close friends in the fraternity, so it wasn't like people were calling his name and beckoning him to come to join their group. He was desperate to feel accepted in his own home and show Artie a good time tonight, especially after the looks they'd received when they arrived.
"Oh, hey! There's Finn and Puck!" Sam said when he spotted the familiar faces. "Should we go say hi?"
Artie nodded, setting his cup in between his thighs, and following Sam across the room.
"Hey, guys!" Sam exclaimed, almost too cheerily, when the pair approached the group. "How's it going?"
They greeted the group with a series of fist bumps and hugs that were all too familiar for Sam but seemed like they may have been a little foreign to Artie. It didn't go unnoticed by Sam, the way that the guys seemed uncomfortable upon realizing that he'd brought Artie along as his date. He chose to ignore their non-verbal reactions and hoped Artie hadn't picked up on them. Knowing how perceptive Artie could be, though, he knew that he most likely already had.
"I gotta say, Evans," Puck said, shaking his head and taking a swig of his beer. "I thought they raised real men where you come from."
Almost immediately, out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw the wave of anxiety begin to overwhelm Artie. In some sort of protective reflex, Sam placed his hand on Artie's back, just above where his chair's backrest ended. First and foremost, Sam hoped to soothe his uptight boyfriend, but the stance also allowed him to proudly and visibly claim Artie as his own to everybody whose gaze was fixed on them.
"Well, then I must be enough of a man to not give a crap what you say, right, Puckerman?"
Sam allowed his fingers to lightly explore Artie's back as he talked, without thinking much about it. The material of his suit jacket was smooth, and Sam almost thought that he could feel Artie's tight back muscles relax into his touch.
Puck looked less than enthused by Sam's quick retort. The mohawked guy mumbled something in response before lifting the bottle to his lips again.
"Is this okay?" Sam whispered to Artie, checking in with him softly. He didn't want to touch him like that if he wasn't comfortable with it.
To his relief, Artie smiled up at him and nodded.
"It's great," he mouthed back. Sam's heart swelled.
"I'm Sam Evans. Nice to meet y'all," Sam half-smiled as he introduced himself to the girls Finn and Puck had brought along, making an effort to diffuse the tension that had formed after he and Artie had come over.
"This is Santana, and this is Brittany," Puck said, gesturing to the girls that were standing to his right. Leave it to Puck to bring not one, but two girls as his dates. "They're Kappas."
Sam and Artie exchanged a glance. The girls– a blonde and a brunette– were clasping each other's hands and seemed more infatuated with one another than they were Puck, though he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did notice, which opened a whole new can of worms. Artie and Sam's eyes met, causing Artie to raise an eyebrow and Sam to stifle a laugh.
The only other one in the group who also seemed confused by the body language of the sorority girls was the blonde who had Finn's arm draped around her shoulders. Her eyes squinted in their direction and her eyebrows were furrowed together, and Sam could tell that she was trying to make sense of the situation as well.
"I'm Quinn," The blonde girl announced a moment later, sticking her hand out to Sam first, then to Artie. Her deep red cocktail dress made her bright green eyes pop. There was no denying her natural beauty. "I'm Finn's girlfriend. I go to Yale."
"I'm Artie. Sam's boyfriend."
I could get used to hearing that, Sam thought to himself, immediately adoring the way that the phrase seemed to roll off of Artie's tongue so naturally. He glanced at Artie as the guy introduced himself, and his heart fluttered when Artie beamed back up at him. He was glad that the less-than-welcoming reactions they'd received so far tonight didn't seem to affect him too much.
Sam hadn't ever had a real boyfriend before. He'd hooked up with guys. It was impossible to be a model in Los Angeles– constantly surrounded by some of the finest men in the world– and not sample the selection. He'd met up with a couple of down-low guys in other frats who were into that stuff, too. But the casual sex with the chiseled supermodels and the fraternity boys who were sneaking around hadn't meant anything to him. He didn't love them. There was no spark, no connection. The way he felt for Artie now, though… to have Artie proclaim Sam as his own just now felt electrifying. It seemed to Sam like he'd been waiting a million years to hear those words, and now he finally had.
The surprised expression on Finn's face was unmissable.
"Oh, wow, Artie, I didn't know you were…" The tall guy's voice trailed off as he was met with expectant looks from both Sam and Artie. He quickly amended the comment he was about to make in favor of one that was more supportive. "Good for you, man!"
Finn held up the near-empty beer bottle he was holding to cheers with his longtime roommate, congratulating him on his new relationship. Sam watched with pride as Artie seemed to heave a relieved breath as a grateful smile spread across his face and he held his drink up to Finn's.
Once introductions were made, Finn and Puck retreated to the kitchen to secure more drinks, leaving their dates behind to mingle with the group's newest additions. Artie immediately struck up a conversation with Quinn, wanting to get to know the girl he'd spent the last year-and-a-half hearing all about from his roommate, leaving Sam no choice but to attempt to make small talk with the two sorority girls Puck had brought along.
"So, uh, Puck said you're Kappas?"
The brunette shook her head, dismissing him. "No. Nope."
"You're not Kappas?"
"I mean we don't have to do this. The small talk. The pretending like we care about one another's lives." She shut him down before he could even begin a conversation.
"Oh. I wasn't–"
"Alright, Trouty Mouth, let me spell it out for you," The girl said, crossing her arms over her chest. Sam pressed his lips together so that they formed a straight line. "Britt and I have a deal with Puckerman. He buys us dinner and alcohol, and we'll make out in front of him. Then, Brittany will come home with me for some sweet lady kisses. It's, like, the best deal ever. So I don't know what Puck's told you is going on, but whatever it is, forget about it."
Sam nodded slowly as he processed this information. Maybe he had more in common with these sorority girls than he originally thought. Before he could ask the girls if Puck was aware of their plans for the night, Puck and Finn had returned.
"Dolphins are gay, too, you know," Brittany, the blonde Kappa, said as Puck passed her another mixed drink in a Solo cup.
"What?"
"Dolphins. They're just gay sharks."
Sam wasn't sure he heard the girl correctly. He was about to ask her to repeat herself again when he noticed the loving gaze that Santana was flashing in her direction.
Sam really had been trying to focus on what Brittany was saying, but he found conversation hard to follow– and not just because he was a little distracted. Since arriving at the party, Sam found himself becoming slightly obsessed with keeping an eye out for the secret signal that he and Artie had come up with on their way over. He just didn't want to miss it, if Artie was gesturing that he wanted to leave. He didn't want Artie to be uncomfortable for even a nanosecond– if he was signaling that he wanted to leave, then Sam was prepared to drop everything at once and leave with him.
Eventually, he just couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm sorry, will you excuse me?" Sam cut in abruptly.
He pushed by Puck's dates, towards where Artie was talking to Finn and his girlfriend. Artie and Quinn were both laughing. It appeared that they were deep in conversation now, but Sam put a hand on Artie's shoulder anyway.
"Hey, Artie, wanna get some fresh air with me?"
"Oh, yeah, sure," Artie replied, nodding, before waving goodbye to Finn and Quinn and telling them he'd catch up with them later.
Sam led the way out the back door, with Artie trailing behind him until they reached the back patio area. That was when Sam finally stopped.
"What's up? Is everything okay?" Artie asked him, a hint of concern was present in his voice, and on his face was an expression to match.
"I just noticed that you hadn't used the signal yet," Sam told him, beginning to nervously pace back and forth. "I wanted to check in on you and make sure you're okay. We can go whenever, really, I don't care. We'll do whatever you want, just say the word."
"Sam. Sam," Artie begged, taking his hands in his own and catching his eye. "Relax. I was a little tense at first, but I'm good now. I haven't used the signal because I'm having fun. Everything's good. Promise."
"Wait, really? You're having fun?" Sam's face lit up and he let out a relieved breath he didn't realize he was holding in. "Okay! Good! I'm glad!"
Artie laughed and shook his head. Just the sight of Artie's smile made Sam's heart quicken its pace.
"You're adorable. Come here."
Artie let go of Sam's hands and grabbed the bottom of his jacket, pulling him down onto his level. Sam took a knee so that they were looking at each other, eye-to-eye. They stayed that way for a moment, silently breathing and looking into one another's blue eyes, before Artie put both hands on Sam's face, pulling him closer until their lips met.
For the longest time, Sam had assumed that the fireworks people felt when they kissed one another in books and movies were exaggerated. At least, he'd never experienced that before whenever he'd kissed anyone. But with Artie, things were different. He understood what those characters felt– it was like his heart, his mind, and his stomach were all exploding at once, into a trillion electric little sparkles.
Based on the forwardness, intensity, and passion behind the action, Sam could tell that Artie had been waiting a long time to do that.
He'd been waiting a long time, too.
"Now, come on." Artie held up his empty cup. "Enough talking. Let's get another drink, and then you're gonna come dance with me."
How could Sam decline an invitation like that?
After getting Artie the new drink he'd requested, Sam had followed him onto the makeshift dance floor. There weren't many others out there with them originally, but neither he nor Artie seemed to care. As they'd already realized, the other people at the party were going to stare at them anyway, no matter what they did, so they might as well have some fun. And, as Sam had learned pretty quickly, everything was more fun with Artie.
"You've got some serious moves, man!" Sam had called to his boyfriend over the music as Artie popped a wheelie and spun in a circle
"I'm pretty legendary for my dancing," Artie grinned. "Would you believe me if I said I watched enough Janet and Michael Jackson music videos as a kid that I just picked up on everything?"
Sam thought about it for a minute before smirking and shaking his head.
"Fine. You got me," Artie laughed. "I was in glee club in high school."
"Now, that I can see," Sam agreed, continuing to dance alongside him.
Until tonight Sam didn't know that this goofy side of Artie existed outside of the four walls of his dorm room. With a little alcohol in his system, though, Sam supposed that anything was possible. Sam had always heard the saying "dance like nobody's watching", but tonight, Artie was doing the opposite; he knew that everyone was watching, and he'd decided to give them a performance.
Artie finished his second drink… then his third… then his fourth. Eventually, Sam had stopped keeping track, but he was sure their White Claw supply was dwindling and that the box was nearly empty. For someone who claimed that they didn't drink very often, Artie sure was pounding the drinks tonight.
Before long, more people had come to join them on the dance floor. They continued to dance the night away, with Sam stepping away only briefly after being tempted by Matt's offer of keg stands out on the porch. When he came back in, however, he found Artie at the center of what looked like some sort of dance circle. He'd ditched his suit jacket long ago, having draped it over the back of his chair, and now was just sporting his bowtie and suspenders over his crisp white dress shirt as he continued to dance. Outkast's "Hey Ya!" was blasting from the speakers, and Artie was treating all of the attention he'd conjured like it was his own personal concert.
For someone who had previously voiced his opposition to the glances that had been cast in his direction and stated how uncomfortable they'd made him, now Artie seemed to be reveling in it. Even Finn and Puck had stepped away from the intense round of beer pong they were playing to come to watch Artie's spectacle.
"Who knew Artie would end up being the life of the party?" Puck remarked as some others cheered and sang along with Artie.
"Ha! That rhymes. 'Artie the One Man Party'. I like that," Finn commented.
Sam smiled at what he'd overheard. He had a feeling that Artie had just earned himself a new moniker around Sigma Chi, and he couldn't be prouder.
He liked the confident side of Artie that was brought out by a little (or a lot) of alcohol. Everything Sam loved about him seemed to be elevated; his smile seemed wider, his movements were more fluid and natural, and– for once– it appeared that he wasn't so self-conscious about how he was being perceived. A pit began to form in Sam's stomach as he thought about how sad it made him that Artie kept this part of himself hidden away, except with the select few who were granted full access. Sam was used to seeing this carefree version of him, of course, but he was glad that everyone else got to see it tonight too.
Right in the middle of his one-man show, Artie went for another wheelie. It seemed that the alcohol Artie had consumed was finally starting to catch up with him, though, because he missed the opportunity to balance on the sweet spot of his wheels entirely. Artie's impaired state of equilibrium caused his chair to tip over and him to fall all the way backward.
"Artie!" Sam yelped, pushing through the crowd and rushing to his side as the music continued to play and the audience that had formed continued to cheer as if this was all part of his performance.
To Sam's great relief, Artie didn't appear to be injured. Quite the opposite– he was hysterically laughing. So much so that tears were brimming in his eyes and he was struggling to catch his breath.
Sam shook his head at the circumstances and didn't try to prevent himself from joining in on Artie's contagious laughter at his boyfriend's expense. After one more glance in Artie's direction to make sure he really wasn't hurt, Sam reached for the overturned wheelchair and set it right-side up. He was about to offer Artie a hand into it when Puck had a different idea.
"Body shot! Body shot! Body shot!"
Others started chanting it with him, and soon enough it felt like the call was reverberating off of the walls.
"Well?" Artie said, raising an eyebrow. The outwardly flirty tone to his voice awakened something within Sam. He was instantly brought back to the out-of-body feeling from before when Artie had kissed him. "You heard 'em. Go get the tequila."
Sam didn't even have to leave Artie's side, because, during all of the chanting, Mike had run to the kitchen to grab somebody's handle of Jose Cuervo, a slice of lime, and a shaker of salt. He handed Sam the supplies before heading back to stand beside his own date.
"You're sure about this?" Sam asked Artie, who had already begun unbuttoning his shirt. This was so far outside of Artie's comfort zone that he didn't want the other guy to regret it when he came to his senses in the morning. He just wanted to make sure he was comfortable. The last thing Sam wanted was for Artie to feel peer pressured into doing something he didn't want to do by the chants from the growing crowd.
"Yes, Sam, you don't have to worry," Artie assured him, placing a hand on Sam's knee. "I'm good. This is fun."
There were some whistles from the onlookers as Artie undid the last button, pushing the fabric away to reveal his flat stomach and his pronounced pecs. Based on the way that his face flushed pink, Sam was willing to bet that Artie wasn't used to his body attracting positive attention from strangers. Sam had to consciously clench his jaw to keep himself from drooling at his boyfriend's physique in front of all of these people.
He had a million thoughts running through his mind, but Artie was able to snap him out of his head with just one word.
"Sam?"
"Crap. Sorry," Sam said, shaking his head and coming back into himself. "You just… look really, really good like that."
Artie reached for the shaker, pouring the salt onto the ridge that ran down the middle of his abdomen, followed by sticking the lime in his mouth. As Sam poured the tequila into Artie's exposed belly button, he worked extra hard to maintain his composure. Thank God for all of the other people around, because if it had been just the two of them, Sam was sure he wouldn't have been able to hold himself back.
Drowning out the noise that surrounded them, Sam glanced down at Artie, their eyes locking. Artie gave the smallest, most imperceptible nod, letting him know that he was still okay.
Sam took a deep breath before bending over and running his tongue along Artie's stomach, feeling Artie's lightly defined abs tighten under their contact. Once he'd licked up all of the salt from Artie's skin, Sam moved his mouth lower towards his waistline to suck up the tequila. His eyes met Artie's again as he swallowed the drink and leaned towards Artie's face to retrieve the lime.
The effects of the burning alcohol and the sourness of the fruit were both muffled by the fiery explosion that erupted in his stomach when Artie's pillow-soft lips touched his for the second time that night. He was sure it was something he'd never get tired of. He craved the way that Artie's mouth tasted on his.
—
"Artie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you drink so much. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry," Sam pleaded softly, rubbing the back of the guy who'd spent the last hour with his head in the toilet.
"It's okay, Sam, really, it was my fault," Artie insisted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and slumping back in his chair in exhaustion. "I know my limits, and I never should have tested them like that."
"Come on, let's get you to bed," Sam coaxed him gently. "You take the bed, I'll crash on the couch."
Truthfully, there was enough room in the bed for both of them, but Artie was really drunk. Sam would never, ever take advantage of Artie– and he hoped that Artie knew that– but, just in case, he wanted to be respectful. He didn't want Artie to think he was trying to pull anything, especially when they'd only started dating that afternoon.
Artie– both weak from throwing up and exhausted because it was nearly two in the morning– was slow to follow Sam back into his bedroom from the adjoining bathroom. Sam had the good sense to loan him some boxers and t-shirt to sleep in earlier when it was apparent that he wouldn't be rejoining the party downstairs, so now he was able to just crawl into bed and fall asleep.
Sam's bed was just a mattress on the floor, with no bed frame or box spring. He hadn't come out to California with much except one backpack of belongings, and he didn't need much to be satisfied with his living arrangement, so his bedroom was very sparsely furnished. A full-size mattress, small futon, and dresser with overflowing drawers completed his furnishings. He only had one pillow on his bed and offered it to Artie.
"Do you have another?" Artie asked. "I have to sleep with something between my knees. It's a whole thing."
Even in his current drunken state, Artie was careful to take care of his body. Sam grabbed him one of the throw pillows from the couch and handed it to Artie. Sam realized then that there was a lot that he didn't know about Artie's daily life with a disability, but he was eager to learn everything Artie was willing to share with him.
Once Artie was settled, Sam pulled the covers up over him. He slipped Artie's glasses off of his face, folding them and setting them on the cardboard moving box that served as a bedside table. As much as he adored Artie's nerdy look when he was wearing the black frames, Sam couldn't deny that Artie's eyes seemed bigger and bluer without them.
"Goodnight," Sam told him, leaning down to kiss Artie on the forehead, before turning to go so that he could fall asleep himself. Just as he was leaving, Artie grabbed his wrist. Sam turned back around and was met by a pleading look from Artie's deep blue eyes.
"Will you stay?"
Artie propped himself up on his elbow and slid the lone pillow over so that it was in the middle of the full-size bed.
Sam mindlessly ran his fingers through Artie's hair for a second as Artie looked up at him, his eyelids heavy with fatigue, before Sam hesitantly peeled back the covers and climbed in beside him. Sam placed his head on one half of the pillow, causing Artie to roll over and set his on the other side.
The way that Artie tucked his head close to Sam's body, just under his chin, felt so natural. Sam knew immediately that he could stay just like that forever.