What felt like only seconds later, but was actually a little more than three hours, Sam's alarm clock went off loud as a klaxon, jarring him to wakefulness. He tried to find the button, slapping at the stupid thing to make the bad sound stop.
It was hard to move and at first he chalked it up to sleep heavy limbs, but it was worse than that. Much worse than that. Someone was in his bed with him- which was a very abnormal thing to happen to Sam even on the best of mornings.
There were arms around his chest and the weight of a whole other human body against his right side, pinning him down. But the extra person wasn't soft in the right places. The arms were too well muscled. The chest too flat. It's not that Sam was complaining, but he really would have preferred a blonde of a different gender.
He didn't remember letting Nick in - and there was a few hard seconds of utter and complete alarm accompanying the notion that the man had just invited himself into Sam's bed. When and how and most importantly why?
Nick shifted against him, stirring slightly at all the movement and noise, before mumbling something incoherent and warm into the younger man's throat. And Sam was about ready to throw Nick because this was way too close and wholly unasked for- but tentatively, the slightest memory of letting Nick into the house last night returned to Sam. He had been almost completely asleep at the time, but at some point in the wee hours he had opened the door and given the man something dry and warm to wear along with a corner of mattress and some blanket.
Nick had certainly managed to spread himself out and settled in before sunrise.
But there were more important things to think about now. He had a test in about an hour.
Untangling himself would have been easier if the blonde didn't sleep like a sack of bricks. It was like trying to move a corpse, one that was still warm and breathing softly along Sam's throat.
Ok, maybe not as much like a corpse. But Sam wasn't thinking too clearly yet.
He got up, threw all excess blankets over the still sleeping Nick, quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a few layers of various lengths of shirts, grabbed his backpack and hurried to school.
His second to last test of the semester was a testament to his teacher's sadism, comprising of a sixteen page fill in the blank exam, complete with two short essays, and Sam left school feeling blindsided and drained. He made his way back home on foot, not bothering to call his brother for a ride, because he wanted the quiet time to decompress after such an awful morning. Dean would want to talk and Sam was fairly certain he had already used up his daily quota of words.
If it wasn't for the horrible weather it would have been a relaxing walk. If nothing else he had the biting cold to think about and that was simple and clean and not at all academic.
It was just starting to rain again when he jogged up to the porch and secretly he was relieved to see that the Impala as well as Nick's bike weren't in front of the house anymore. The 'boyfriend' was practically more trouble that he was worth, and Sam just didn't have the energy to deal with him right now. Maybe in a few days after that last test was done. When he felt human again.
He thought that he would have the house to himself for a few hours until Dean got off work- Sam hadn't even considered that his big brother would have taken the car into the garage, or that he would have made room for Nick to pull his bike in beside the Impala to keep it out of the rain. Sam had been so relieved at his perceived good luck to make such considerations and when he opened the door to find Nick and Dean sitting pretty beside the fireplace, with coffee and beer respectively, he was struck by how unfair life really was.
Sam weighed the very tempting possibility of simply closing the door and walking away. He could just run away from home and not deal with whatever this was.
"Heya, Sammy!" Dean pointed his bottle at a startled Nick who was innocently sipping on his coffee. "Did ya' know that your boyfriend's got a '69 Shelby?"
Boyfriend? Last time Dean had mentioned Nick it had been with far more colorful names attached. Apparently some kind of manly bonding had been undertaken since the early hours of the morning, and a level of truce had been reached.
Never taking his hand from the door Sam did his best to collect his thoughts, assessing the odd situation before him. "By how happy you are about it, I'm guessing that a Shelby is either a car or a sex doll?"
Nick started choking on his coffee, laughing and setting his mug down in favor of covering his mouth.
Dean grinned without a glimmer of shame. "You guessed right. Now close the damn door. You're letting all the warm out."
Sighing in resignation, Sam, finally took the last few steps inside and locked up behind him. "It is a car- right?" He needed the clarification for sanity sake if nothing else.
"Yes, it's a car." Dean explained because Nick was still chuckling to himself and he couldn't seem to take a long enough break to form an answer.
"That's good to know." Which was the god's honest truth. Sam didn't want to think about the two men sitting around a fire, drinking and talking about anything other than cars. Cars were safe. At least safer than the alternative.
Then the whole thing struck him. "Wait, Nick- you own a car?"
He nodded, still laughing.
"They why are you driving a motorcycle in the rain?"
"Because my car is a princess and I can't take her out in weather like this."
Sam looked at Dean for some kind of acknowledgement that that was an insane thing to say- that driving a bike in the rain wasn't worth protecting a car. But Dean was nodding along in complete agreement as if were the only logical choice and he commended Nick for making the sacrifice in order to spare a car from getting a little wet.
It was always nice to see two people with the wrong priorities in life finding each other. Sam just hadn't realized that when he had agreed to date Nick he had actually been picking himself up a second Dean. One had been plenty. Thanks.
He was about to add something sarcastic and concise, still not quite able to summon up any complex sentences but he dimly absorbed the fact that Nick was still wearing the clothes he must have borrowed last night and Sam lost whatever words he had been looking for.
The pants could have been anyone's, ugly grey and green stripes, but the sweatshirt... the logo from Sam's old highschool back in Kansas was faded and peeling from the well worn, red sweatshirt. Without even being able to see, he knew that the back said 'Winchester'. It had been Sam's soccer sweatshirt and Dean had chipped in to help him buy it senior year. His varsity number had been lucky thirteen and according to his big brother that meant something significant and they couldn't pass up the chance to commemorate it with official clothing.
It wasn't that seeing Nick in his clothes was particularly noteworthy other than that is somehow triggered a more clear memory of last night. For the briefest of seconds Sam had lingered last night, debating if he was willing to let someone wear his school sweatshirt, if it would even fit Nick. Then Sam had curled up in his warm, soft bed, and Nick had joined him like the man sized ice cube that he was. Careful, but flawed little memories of the night before. Something else had happened after Nick had joined him. Something that…
Oh God.
Sam felt his eyes go wide and his breath stick in his throat- because that man sitting there cross legged, attempting to sip at his coffee despite the fact that he was still chuckling a little too hard- last night… last night that man's mouth had been pressed against Sam Winchester's and that wasn't something that any other man in the world could make a claim to.
There were stupid things to do- and then there were horrifically stupid things to do.
Honestly, he had just wanted some sleep and shutting Nick up looked to be the only way to get there.
Maybe Sam had been accused of being a morning person once or twice- but that was mornings. He could wake up wide eyed and ready to face that day. Nights were a different story all together.
All Winchester men made the worst choices imaginable in the middle of the night. It was like all their common sense went to sleep long before the rest of them did. And as such, the right to make any kind of life altering choice should be taken away from them between the haunting hours.
John's midnight exploits were too numerous to bother mentioning.
Dean could boast a tattoo that Sam had only seen once due to its indelicate location, as well as a three hour marriage to a show girl named Trixy (or Tina or Trinity… something like that) in Las Vegas about two years back. No alcohol had been involved in either of those beautiful choices. Just a stunning lack of sleep to aide in the decision making process.
And Sam wasn't much better. There was once, at almost one in the morning, after a double feature at the drive-in, in the Impala that he had borrowed without permission, Sam lost his virginity with a long legged Junior who had been on the track team. She had also been dating a very sturdy senior named Trevor at the time and incidentally the next night Sam found himself in a very impressive fist fight with the guy during their soccer game and they both were threatened with suspension.
There were plenty of other things that Sam had done wrong over the years between sun set and sun rise. Last night however felt like the cherry on the top of all those lovely mistakes.
Some of that dawning realization must have shown on his face because Dean was stumbling to his feet, brotherly concern radiating from him. "You alright?"
"I'm fine." He answered a bit too quick, suddenly unable to look at either man. "I'm going to go get something to eat." An easy excuse and he was out of the room, hiding in the shelter of the kitchen. He shuffled through the cabinets, coming up with three practically empty boxes of cereal and all the crumbs and flakes got dumped into a single bowl. It wasn't that Sam was actually hungry- he just needed something to do with himself that didn't involve painstakingly going over every little moment of the short, passionless kiss from last night.
He was digging the carton of milk from the back of the fridge when someone spidered their fingers up his spine, and Sam jumped, trying to get away so fast that he smacked his head on the freezer handle. Cradling his suddenly wounded skull, he slunk back, pressing against the fridge then the counter sort of rolling away from the man behind him.
"Oh, darlin'- are you alright?" Nick was chuckling again, such a pleasant, soft noise, more like a good humored sigh than anything else. "Are you always this high-strung, or did I just meet you at the wrong time?"
Sam stayed half crouched, knees bent and leaning heavily on the counter as he felt his hair for blood- certain that there would be some even though he hadn't hit his head hard enough. "Are you trying to kill me?" He peered at Nick through watering eyes.
"No. But I'm starting to agree with your brother, you don't look like you're doing ok."
"Of course I don't look ok. I need stitches, you jerk."
Nick rolled his eyes and forcibly grabbed Sam's head, pushing fingers through his hair, feeling an impressive bump that was already forming. "You don't need stitches, you big girl."
Sam looked up at the man, their fingers touching, brushing together, Nick pushing hair from Sam's eyes. "Too close." He said weakly.
It was hard to say if Nick remembered last night the same way. If he felt the same nerve wracked anxiety over what happened- or if he just felt equally alarmed with their proximity. His eyes caught Sam's and a certain level of unease shifted through him as he took a generous step back. "It was a bit close, wasn't it?"
Though he had to do it with more care than normal, Sam ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the lingering feeling of a stranger's touch. "Nick. Last night-"
"Thanks for letting me come over." The man said clearly and firmly, never taking his gaze from Sam. "I was going to die of hypothermia if I stayed in that apartment."
Sam pulled himself up to his full height, needing the greater altitude to give him courage. "So, uh…did you sleep alright then?" He would happily pussyfoot around the topic, touching on easier things instead.
"You're like my own private space heater." Nick showed his teeth in something that almost resembled a grin. "It was fantastic."
"Good." Sam said softly, looking anywhere other than at Nick. "About the… last night…" How do you approach a subject like this? "Did you know, students in the midst of finals have been known to suffer from mild psychotic breaks from time to time. It's the stress." He cleared his throat. "We can't be held accountable for things that we do in the middle of the night during a sleep deprived breakdown while in the company of bad men."
"Bad men?" Nick made one of those wounded noises that he did so well, hand to his chest in a perfect picture of martyrdom. "Are you insinuating that I am a bad man?"
"You know what you are."
Nick hummed in something like approval or agreement, before getting the milk out for Sam and closing the fridge. "I'm about as innocent as the devil himself- but that was all you last night."
"You provoked me… and I was asleep."
"You didn't taste asleep."
"I didn't taste like anything." Sam felt heat creeping up his neck and he took the milk from Nick, pouring it into his bowl and making breakfast soup. "And if you thought that was a kiss then you've obviously been alone at lot longer than you're admitting to."
"Well, maybe it lacked a certain level of… passion or-"
"Or anything at all." Sam shook his spoon at Nick to make his point.
Nick laughed again. "You want me, Sam- it's ok to admit it."
Sam smacked the man firmly in the chest with his spoon before plopping himself down at the table to eat. "I want you like I want another hole in my head."
"Hey now. Ixnay on the ostilityhay." Nick hissed the pig latin softly through his teeth, nodding sharply towards the living room where they had left Dean.
He had a point. Even during a 'break' it was important that they keep up some level of appearance. Especially when one of their brother's was within ear shot. Pushing all hostility aside, Sam reached deep and found sarcasm to take its place.
"I'm just stressed. Sorry, Luci."
Nick's expression went from one of mild amusement to a mix of shock and exasperation. "Oh, you're asking for it, darlin'."
"You know I didn't mean to snap at you." Sam held his arms out, looking up at Nick who was looming over him like a pale storm cloud. "Come here. Let me make it up to you."
"You don't want me coming down there right now."
It was true. If Nick fell into his arms Sam would literally have no idea what to do with him. He dropped the offer as if it had never been. "If you're not going to forgive me can I at least eat my cereal?"
Nick slunk to one of the kitchen chairs, turning it around and resting his chin on the high back. One of his long arms looped around so he could tug on his lip, biting the edge of his thumb and looking thoughtful. "If I decide to forgive you… can it be on the mouth?"
Sam took a few hearty bites of his already soggy flakes before answering in a tired voice. "Not in the kitchen."
"That's alright." Nick's long fingers trailed up Sam's arm, prickling the short hairs, giving the younger man goose bumps. "I can think of quite a few other places that I'd rather kiss you."
"I'm sure you can." Sam pulled his arm away. They were talking so low and soft, in all likelihood Dean wouldn't even be able to hear them. Where was the reason behind all this touching and teasing? What was it for?
The simple answer was that it was for fun.
The stress of the last two weeks, the recoiling mortification at what he had done last night, it seemed less now with the soft, early afternoon sunlight coming in the window, and good simple food in his stomach. Good company at his side. An overly protective brother who was notably giving him space- and it must have been hard on Dean to not be there, not to be the one checking on Sam. Hard to give the responsibility to someone else just this once.
Dean had to really like Nick to give him such a vital responsibility.
It must have been some nice car.
Sam stirred his soupy cereal, watching the flakes circle the chipped ceramic bowl, because it was easier than watching Nick. In truth just about everything was easier to look at because Sam found it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face around the man. "Last night though…" He started in a careful voice, trying to figure out where and how he was going with this.
Did he want to apologize?
Did he want to blame Nick for it?
Nick flapped a hand dismissively. "Look- I figure this whole thing is some pretty fucking treacherous paths we're treading. I'm just putting my feet where you put yours and hoping that the floor doesn't give out under us." Nick had such a lovely, if not particularly subtle way of putting things. He touched Sam again, lightest brush of fingertips tracing the pale blue veins that ran along the back of his hand. "You were tired. I pushed you a bit too far and you pushed back. We had a misstep, but no harm done and I learned my lesson."
"Did you?" Sam asked curiously, not quite believing what he was hearing.
"I did. I learned that I shouldn't ask you for things that I don't want because if you're mad enough you might actually give it to me."
Sam laughed. "I wasn't mad. I was tired." There was a subtle difference, though the two sometimes went hand in hand.
"Either way. And just so you know, you're an awful kisser. It's no wonder you can't seem to find a girlfriend."
"That wasn't a real kiss." Sam bristled with a sudden need to defend himself. "It was… an aggressive bite without teeth."
Nick laughed at that, nodding in amusement. "Yeah, well, next time I make you mad enough to bite me, can I recommend going a little lower? Maybe trying out the neck region?" He stopped petting Sam long enough to gesture to his own nicely exposed throat.
"I'll take your request into consideration." He promised, doing his best not to assess that stretch of pale skin for the best place to lay his teeth.
Nick left for work a little after that, dressed in his freshly dry clothes from the night before. He managed to sneak a parting kiss to Sam's cheek halfway out the door and it shouldn't have made Sam smile like it did. Maybe if he hadn't seen the man kissing his family members in exactly the same way it would have been more intimate, instead it gave Sam a gentle feeling of acceptance and ease that had hadn't expected.
"If they haven't fixed the power by tonight can I-"
"You can have the couch. I'll find a blanket just for you."
The smile they shared was a little more guarded that usual, but Dean was still sitting beside the fire on the far side of the room, not watching every little thing that passed between them.
"I'll sleep better next to you." Nick argued gently.
"You slept around me last night, you octopus."
"What can I say? I'm a cuddler."
A sighed found its way out from somewhere deep down inside Sam. "Just call me if you're coming over again tonight so I can brace myself." He said while pushing the man out the door.
He watched Nick go because he didn't have anything more complicated in him than to just stand there.
"So," Dean had snuck up behind him, because apparently anyone and everyone was going to do that today. "He stayed the night last night."
"Nothing happened." Sam said quickly because even if Dean was supposed to think that Sam and Nick were involved that way, it didn't mean that he wanted his brother thinking that they had gotten that far that fast.
"That's what he said- and I figure I would have been able to hear your girly giggling if he had popped your cherry- so you two must have kept your pants on." He said so matter of factly like none of this was odd or unusual. "I guess the power for his whole apartment building is out."
"That's what he told me." Sam looked sideways at Dean and was surprised to see how deep that calm acceptance went. "You two had a good morning, didn't you?"
"We… talked. He's ok." Dean decided after a moment's thought.
"How do you go from telling me I should dump the guy to 'he's ok' and 'he's got a neat car'?"
"I never said 'neat'. Ever. In my whole life." Dean frowned then shrugged. "But, yeah. He's got a nice car."
"So you like him now?"
Dean drew a long breath through his nose and frowned again. "Look, last week the guy calls me up asking what your favorite food is. I tell him what a freak you are and how much you love your organic, hippy crap and the dude tells me that there's no way he can go into a place and order that kind of food and still sleep at night. So I tell him about that place in Palo Alto- figuring that if I make it complicated enough, he'll give up and let me get back to work. And the next thing I know he's asking for the exact address of the place and then where you like to hide out on campus.
"He likes you, god knows why. And stranger than that, you like him back. Sam, you've been wound tighter than a two dollar watch since your finals started, and I just heard you two laughing in the kitchen. I saw you smile for the first time in days. I don't have to like him. I like you when you're with him. It's good enough for me."
.:.
Nick was back that night. Still no power. Apparently the storm had blown out a couple lines and his block wasn't a big priority to fix.
Sam set him up on the couch with a blanket that had been pilfered from Dean's bed and a vow to do Nick severe bodily harm if he didn't behave himself tonight. The man only smiled and asked if he could borrow Sam's sweatshirt again.
A few hours later Sam stumbled blearily downstairs, wanting to get a drink of water before going to sleep after one last night of cramming, before one last final in the morning. It was dark in the living room. No glow in the fire, no lights left on. Even in the gloom, Sam could see the small lump on the couch which was inevitably Nick. And it was only then that he remembered that they turned off the heater at night to help save on the electricity bill. Sam and Dean both ran a little warm and with all those blankets that they horded it didn't make too much of a difference to either of them.
Nick on the other hand… Sam had never even once seen the man without long sleeves on, rolled up to his elbows only twice. He was not the kind of man who was built to deal with the cold. Even the subtle cold that California had to offer. But maybe Sam was just a little unimpressed with the icy winds because they didn't bring snow, like they had in Kansas, so what was the big deal.
He sat on the edge of the coffee table and gently shook Nick. "Hey. You awake?"
Nothing.
"Nick." He didn't want to raise his voice too loudly because Dean was not exactly a deep sleeper even if he was all the way upstairs behind a closed door. "Come on. Up."
The man stirred beneath his blanket. "Is it Christmas? Did Santa come yet?"
Sam was grateful for the darkness because it hid his smile. "Come on upstairs, Nick."
The palest of eyes peered out at Sam, slow, sleepy blinking. "Oh, it really is Christmas, isn't it?"
"Shut up and get up before I leave your ass down here."
Nick was not at all graceful as he stumbled along after Sam, clinging to the back of his shirt, wearing the blanket he had been given like a cape. He tripped on the last step and crashed into Sam with a softly muttered apology.
"Keep it down." Sam chided, dragging the man along, pulling and then pushing him into bed.
"I like when you get rough with me." Nick chuckled, sleepy and lost in the dark and shadows as he rolled across the bed, settling into a comfortable middle place.
"Shut up." Sam found himself saying again as he climbed in, draping them both in a mass of blankets- the majority of which went over Nick. "Go back to sleep. And before you even ask- no. You can't have a kiss."
"I'll settle for an arm."
"You'll… what now?"
Nick inched closer, rolling onto his side and tucking his hands up beneath Sam's arm. His cold, cold hands. "Just an arm. 's all I need."
Sam whispered against the crown of Nick's head, "goodnight, my ice princes."
"Goodnight, my toasty knight." Nick whispered back, somewhere down around Sam's chest.
It was an oddly comfortable way to sleep.
It was just as comfortable to wake up to, though slightly more confusing than it should have been.
At some point Sam had managed to roll onto his side as well, and though he had never known himself to be a 'cuddler', Nick had no such restraints. He had once more plastered himself to Sam, both arms rucked up beneath the younger man's shirt, fingers curling along the slow arch of his ribs right beneath his chest. One knee tucked up between Sam's, one knee over, their legs woven together in an easy tangle. He'd made himself a small lump against Sam, like a limpet clinging to the underside of a ship, as close as he could get with cloth and skin still between them.
It was far more intimate than Sam had been mentally prepared for, even with both of them being fully clothed. He was fairly certain that, despite any fluctuations in temperature, this breached the 'straight man physical contact' code.
Sam wriggled away to turn off his alarm clock and then he had to fight the urge to curl back around Nick, because that break in contact had left a cold spot on his chest and stomach.
It was a conflicting morning if nothing else.
Nick was looking around with a bewildered expression like had no idea where he was or how he got here. "What time is it?"
"Seven-thirty." Sam started pushing Nick off, trying to figure out how to untangle their legs without acknowledging that they were tangled to begin with.
"Ungodly hour." Nick rolled away with a grumble, hiding his face beneath the blankets, tacking on the accusation of "sleepless heathen," for good measure.
Sam slid out of bed, straightening his clothes, eyeing the lump burying itself deeper beneath the covers before he started looking for something to wear to school. "I've got my last test this morning."
"Good luck." Came the muffled words.
"You have work today?"
"This afternoon. You still coming with me to Frisco tomorrow?"
Sam hesitated halfway into his jeans. "Tomorrow?" That would technically fall into the weekend, wouldn't it? He had almost forgotten that he had said yes to the offer. And he had certainly forgotten how soon it was.
"Pick you up around three?" The lump suggested.
"Are we, um- taking your bike?"
"No." The lump shifted, settling.
"Are we going to take your sexy car that can't be out in the rain?" Sam pulled on a clean tshirt and shook hair from his eyes.
"Only if you ask nice."
Sam picked up his pillow and hit the lump where he thought the words were coming from. "I'll see you tomorrow."
The lump only hummed in agreement, and Sam smiled as he grabbed a hoodie and left.
Two nights later saw Sam stumbling with Nick back to the car- witch incidentally was a stunning piece of American automotive ingenuity that even Sam could appreciate.
They both reeked of sweat and beer and pot- and if it counted for anything at all Sam had only participated in the first of the offences, and Nick only had only gone as far as the second. But the room had been packed with people and hazy with smoke from cigarettes and other, less legal things. It had permeated their clothes and Sam was grateful for the short walk back to the parking garage because it gave them both time to air out.
Initially when Nick had listed their errands in San Francisco- being the violin dropped off (which they had done first thing upon entering the city), a concert, and a touch up to an old tattoo- Sam had foolishly assumed that the 'concert' part of their to do list would be more closely linked to the violin. Something classical and lovely and meant for sitting in seats wearing button up shirts and serious expressions.
Looking back at the invitation, as well as looking at the man who was currently hanging from his shoulder like the hot mess that he was, Sam should have known that the concert would not be a formal affair. In fact, when Nick had come to pick him up that afternoon and Sam asked if he would need a tie and Nick only laughed, that should have been indication enough.
It had been a punk rock concert, headlining an Irish band that Sam had never heard of. It had been loud and energetic and absolutely fantastic even if it was not at all what he was expecting. He had lingered near the back of the large room where there was empty pockets of floor, and watched as Nick was swallowed whole by the crowd, only to reemerge from time to time to buy himself another overpriced beer- or as the night wore on, lean on Sam close enough to be heard over all the noise, too long and far, far too close.
It wasn't that Sam didn't enjoy the music or the energy, in fact it was hard to not get swept up in the almost gleeful mob mentality of the whole thing. It was just that he didn't want to get separated from Nick and lost somewhere in San Francisco- so he stayed put and let the man drift back whenever he needed a breather or more than a few inches of floor to stand on.
The concert had ended a little past eleven and they had made it outside into the foggy night. Cold, pressing drifts of air clinging to them. There was no way to tell exactly how drunk Nick had managed to get himself. All Sam knew was that the man was very warm and very close and his feet didn't seem to go where he wanted them to. And so they stumbled together. It would have been easier if Nick wasn't so tall or heavy, because every time he tripped over the very flat sidewalk he threatened to take Sam down with him.
"You do know that there is no way I'm letting you drive us back to the hotel." Sam tightened his arm under Nick's shoulders, his grip on the back of the man's jacket to keep him from wandering off into the street like he seemed so determined to do.
Nick blinked up at him with glassy eyes and a wide smile. "What?"
"When we get to the car- I need the keys."
"But you can't drive my car."
"Well one of us has to and it's not going to be you."
Nick didn't drive his car any differently than he drove his bike, which was to say that Sam spent most of the ride into the city that afternoon with his eyes closed because if death was going to take him he would rather it be a surprise. There was no way in hell that he was going to let the man drive them somewhere in his drunken state.
"Sammy, asking to drive a man's car is like asking to drive his wife. It just isn't done." Began the slightly slurred lecture.
"Don't call me Sammy."
"Your brother gets to."
"Yeah well, he's the only one." Sam pulled Nick a little closer to let a group of people who were walking considerably faster pass them.
"Big meanie." Nick said into his shoulder, leaning on Sam enough that they started to cant too far and almost crashed into the building on Sam's other side.
"I could be at home right now, watching Netflix, listening to Dean complain about unrealistic blood spray." And Sam didn't know if he was reminding himself of this or just letting the other man know- just as he wasn't positive if the alternative was better or worse than where he was.
They got down one more block and into the parking garage before Sam had to drag Nick to a halt beside his car.
"Keys." Sam said firmly, the same way that had so many times with Dean over the past few years- the same way he had to with John so many times before he'd had enough and left home.
"Can you even drive a stick shift?" Nick was squinting up at Sam under the harsh florescent lights.
"It's been a while, but I know how."
Nick's mouth became a small, unhappy little line. "You're going to hurt her."
"I will be so careful." Sam tried to keep any sarcasm from his voice for fear that Nick might hear the insincerity even through all that liquor.
Stubbornly, Nick folded his arms, pulling away from Sam and leaning against his car. "I've never let anyone else drive her."
"Well you really should have thought about before you decided to try and embalm yourself tonight."
" 'm not that drunk."
Sam narrowed his eyes and put one hand on Nick's shoulder, giving him a firm tug forward. The man fell, no chance at all of keeping his footing and he careened into Sam with a clumsy, solid impact. He made small sounds of protest but the younger man cut him off quickly.
"People who can't even stand don't get to drive."
And much to Nick's objections, Sam easily pinned him to the side of the car and patted him down until he found the keys he needed in one of Nick's pockets.
"Now can you get yourself into the passenger side or do you need me to carry you?"
Nick glowered as much as he could but he turned and carefully felt his way around the car, letting himself into the shotgun seat and muttered quietly about how mean Sam was.
Some people got sentimental or real touchy when they'd had too much to drink- people like Dean.
Others got violent.
Sam stayed outside the car for a few seconds, silently thanking whoever might be listening that he had saddled himself with someone who was more like his brother and less like his father.
Someone pouting at him was far easier to deal with than the alternative.
He got them safely back to the hotel, despite how much Nick whined or swore at him every time that Sam had trouble shifting gears and the car made it's horrible grinding sound- or the single time that he accidently stalled at a stop sign on the wrong side of one of the steep hills and started rolling backwards. They made it in one piece and as far as he was concerned Nick could thank him in the morning.
"You could have hurt her." Nick said sullenly as he took back his keys and refused Sam's arm while they made their way to the elevator.
"You're car is fine." Sam sighed and pushed the up button.
"Getting your big, rough hands all over me is one thing." Nick held his keys to his chest like Sam might try to take them back. "But you can't manhandle her like a cheap whore. She's a lady."
"I'll keep that in mind." He sighed again and watched the numbers over the door counting down, waiting. It wasn't like Nick had been at all gentle when he had driven them this afternoon, though he never ground the gears or stalled the engine, so perhaps he had a point.
Nick looked to be lost in his own world for a moment, thinking so hard it showed on his face. "You really do have big hands though."
Sam frowned and couldn't help but glance at his hands which looked the same size that they always did. Before he could really argue Nick reached out to him, clumsily pressing one of his hands against one of Sam's, struggling to line up their palms or their fingers, seemingly not able to decide which would be better for measuring.
"Like this." He took Nick's hand and very easily lined them up, a little disappointed to see that his own hands were marginally bigger. "I'm tall… it's a proportion thing." He said lamely like it was any kind of excuse.
"No." Nick laced their fingers, still holding them up around chest level so he could really look at them. "I'm tall. You're a giant."
The elevator doors opened and Sam wrested his hand back. "Come on, Nick." He called over his shoulder and then frowned when he saw that he wasn't being followed at all.
Nick was too busy looking at his own hands, frowning at them like they had done his wrong somehow.
"I'll leave without you." Sam threatened even as he put his foot in way of the door to keep it from sliding shut.
"Do they look smaller than normal to you?" He held his hands out for Sam's inspection.
Frustrated, Sam just grabbed the man by his wrists and pulled him into the elevator, awkwardly catching Nick as he stumbled.
His pale eyes went wide and he held himself tensely against Sam's chest. "Hey." Came his confused, feeble protest.
Sam snaked an arm around Nick, holding him comfortably in place as he gently wrested the keys from the man before tucking them back in the pocket he had originally taken them from. The last thing they needed was drunk Nick somehow dropping and losing the keys somewhere in the hotel- never to be found again.
"You keep touching me like this and I'll have to charge you."
"I was putting your keys where you wouldn't lose them."
Nick patted at his pockets until he heard the soft jingle, then settled back into Sam like he belonged there, his warm hands resting against the curve of Sam's shoulders. "How long have we been doing this, Sam?"
"I'd say maybe fifteen seconds. It's not the fastest elevator, but we don't have all that far to go."
"Don't be stupid." Nick rolled his eyes and his head kind of followed, nodding to the side and before he hid a grin against Sam's chest. "I mean how long have we been dating?"
"About a month?" He surprised himself with the answer. Had it really been that long? Sometimes it felt like they just met- but then there were times like this, when Sam felt so comfortable with Nick it was like they'd known each other for years. Only a month?
"A month." Nick repeated softly, face still hidden, no indication that he planned to surface anytime soon.
For just a second Sam let himself enjoy the rough, warm contact- then the elevator leveled out on their floor and the doors opened. "Come on, we need to get you in bed." They did a little two-step, dancing with each other as Sam tried his best to drag Nick with him in the direction of their room.
"Sam?" He kept one hand on the younger man's shoulder, the other he trailed along the wall to aid in his balance. "If you were as drunk as I am- and I was as drunk as I am,"
Sam couldn't help but laugh at that.
"And one of us was a girl- would we have sex tonight?"
The laughter died pretty quick and Sam found himself struggling to remind himself that Nick was drunk and there was no real harm or threat meant by the question.
"I think if I was as drunk as you are then I would have passed out by now."
"Lightweight." Nick laughed and then frowned as they stopped walking. "Is this our room?"
"Yes."
"Do you have the card thing for the lock or do I?"
"You do."
Nick got that same deep look of concentration that he had at the elevator. "Maybe I put it in my wallet?"
"Where's your wallet?"
"In a pocket?" Nick asked carefully, raising his arms and looking down at himself.
"God, you're useless." He said in the most affectionate way he could as he propped Nick against the door and started searching for a wallet. The fact that the man started squirming as soon as Sam started looking didn't make the goal any easier.
"Hold still, or find your own wallet."
"It tickled." Nick whispered harshly.
And Sam didn't really know how to respond to that, because Nick wasn't supposed to be ticklish. And even though he had suddenly been given a beautiful opportunity to get himself in trouble, Sam did the noble thing and held his hands up where they could be seen and waited as Nick made a point of straightening his clothes and slowly going from pocket to pocket until he finally found his wallet.
Despite the odds, they got the door open and into their room, and Sam smiled at the two beds, just as happy to see them now as he had been that afternoon when they check in and dropped off their stuff.
Maybe he had initially expected some kind of shenanigans from Nick.
When Sam had told him where he was going, Dean had certainly made a point of warning him against all the indecent things that Nick could have planned for the two of them alone in a hotel together for a weekend. And Sam knew, he knew that Nick had nothing towards him other than the purest of intentions- and even still he had doubted just for a moment because it was healthy to occasionally question the lunatic situations that you put yourself in.
But then he had seen the two beds and he remembered why it was that he was so fond of Nick.
He steered his mess of a friend towards the bathroom. "Why don't you try taking a shower, see if you can sober up a bit- at least get some of that stink off you."
"You didn't answer my question… at least I don't think." Nick held the doorframe, not willing to be banished quite yet.
"What question?"
"Would we have sex tonight if one.. or both of us were a girl? I don't remember when we were supposed to get around to it and I- I don't typically date anyone for more than a night." He frowned as he struggled to collect all his thoughts and get them in the right order to make some kind of sense. "It just seems like tonight would be a good night for it, doesn't it?"
Sam did his best to look at the question for what it was. Not a proposition, but a simple inquiry as to what they were going to tell (or not tell) their brothers when they got home. They needed to keep their stories straight. A long term lie needed to be very carefully put together.
"No." He decided.
"No?" Nick tilted his head so far to the side he was resting against his own shoulder. "I must really be in love with your gangly ass if I'm waiting more than a month for you to put out. I usually don't wait more than a few hours."
Sam sat on the edge of his bed, the one closest to the window, and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "Look, you're drunk off your ass and there's no way I'd take advantage of you tonight."
"You… you don't want to take advantage of me?" It was a good thing that Nick had the doorframe to hold him up because in his unbalanced state it was the only thing keeping him standing as he started to laugh. It took him almost a full minute to get control of himself enough to speak. "Oh, darlin'- you're too perfect."
"Look- I'm just saying there's no way I would with you so drunk you can't even stand." He knew that Dean would never go for it- he knew Sam too well. Aside from that, the suggestion made Sam feel a little sick. Nick was his friend and Sam wasn't a complete asshole. There are some things that you just don't do.
"You, sir, are a gentleman and I don't deserve you." He fumbled the bathroom light on and started peeling off his jacket. "But there is always tomorrow night and it would be a shame to waste this romantic room."
Sam looked at the two separate beds and the overwhelmingly beige color pallet of the room.
"And for the record, I'm not as drunk as you seem to think I am."
"I'm surprised that your liver hasn't staged a mutiny and left you in a puddle of your own vomit."
"You always say the sweetest things." Nick finally managed to get his jacket of and Sam averted his eyes while the man began the arduous task of wrestling his own shirt. "Have you considered that maybe I'm just playing up what alcohol I have going for me so I had an excuse to touch you."
"And how well did that work out?"
"You carried me here, didn't you?" The shower turned on. "My big, strong, protective man."
It was hard to not be charmed by such logic and sentimentality. "Don't drown in there, Nick." Sam advised, thinking it would be a shame to waste all the work that they'd put in so far.
Nick hummed thoughtfully. "You wanna' join me, keep me safe, make sure I don't bump my head?"
"I'm going to sleep." Sam informed the ceiling.
"But I'm almost naked."
"Close the door and don't tell me about it." He really hoped that Nick couldn't see him smiling, because it would only encourage the man.
The door didn't close and the shower ran- there were no continued sounds of undressing or anything else productive. Sam chose to ignore all of it as much as possible, laying back on his bed, debating how deep his regrets would be if he just slept in his clothes.
"Sam?"
"Yes?"
"I can't get my shoes untied."
"How is that 'not as drunk as you look' thing working out for you now?" He folded his hands comfortably over his stomach and closed his eyes.
"If you don't help me I will just shower with them and my pants on- because I can't get them off over the shoes- and when they're all still wet tomorrow I will make you go to the store and buy me new shoes and dry pants."
"You're worse than Dean." But just as if it were his big brother in there, Sam dragged himself up off the bed and went to the bathroom, doing an award winning job of not smiling or laughing at the man who was sitting on the edge of the tub, wearing only jeans, tennis shoes, and a pitiful expression.
Despite his protests, Nick had to be completely sloshed, because he was sitting with his bare back to the shower spray, water sprinkling from behind, darkening his hair, wetting his shoulders down to the back of his jeans. And at no point did he seem to notice, just blinking slowly at Sam with a slightly hopeful glint in his eyes.
Sam knelt on the floor next to Nick and started to untangle the mess that had been made of his shoelaces. "What would you do if I wasn't here to save you from yourself?"
He considered slowly before giving his answer, like it was a test. "Wouldn't bother with a shower. Wake up in the morning smelling like I'd been sautéed in cheep beer and shame. My mouth would taste like ass- and I would have many regrets." One of his fairly wet hands came up to touch Sam's hair. "The biggest one being that apparently you weren't here to take care of me tonight."
Sam smiled and shook his head, moving onto the second shoe.
"I mean it… same for what I said earlier. You're too good for me."
"Nick, whatever stupid thing you're about to say, you won't remember it tomorrow and I doubt that I'll want to. Do us both a favor."
"You're not a psycho bitch. I never thanked you for that."
"You're welcome I guess?" It wasn't the worst complement someone had paid him, and if nothing else it made Sam smile and he set aside the second shoe.
"I mean it." Nick said with the kind of sincerity that only drunk people seem to be able to master. "For the longest time I've been worried that I'll turn around and suddenly realize that you're this insufferable asshole like every other person I've ever dated. But look at you- you're like a boy scout… male model… moose man- and you laugh at my awful jokes and you have those god damned dimples and why couldn't you have been a girl?"
Sam laughed, sitting back on his butt on the cold floor and looking up at Nick. Without a shirt the man was even more pale, and at the same time somehow far more colorful. Ink lines running over the hitch of his shoulders and down his arms. One design stood out from the rest, sitting along on the left side of his chest, apart from the others, looking for all the world like a child's drawing. Literally, like Nick had given a pack of markers to a small child and let them draw what may or may not have been a dragon? Some kind of rounded monster with horns? Whatever it was, it was as charming as it was confusing.
"Nick- take your shower. Make it a cold one."
"Yell at me if I'm not out in five minutes. If I don't come out assume that I died and you have my advanced permission to attempt mouth to mouth- just no tongue, ok? We're not at that point in our relationship yet." He still hadn't taken his hand from Sam's hair and it was an odd counterweight to his words.
"I'm not sure I would want to do better than you, Nick." Sam found his mouth making words that he had no desire to take back- even if he questioned how honest they were. They felt like the right words right then.
Tired, glassy eyes crinkled around the edges and Nick smiled a smile that he probably wouldn't remember in the morning.
Sam crawled to his feet, using the edge of the sink for leverage. "Five minutes. Don't drown." And he left the steam filled room for the safety of the bed he had to call his own for the night.