Sam was pealing at the blue label on his beer bottle, exposing the brown glass one shred at a time. Well ignored, his phone vibrated on the arm of the couch, dancing sideways until it fell to floor with a clatter- and that got Dean's attention. His big brother looking up from the dismantled alternator spread out over the coffee table.
"You gunna answer that, Sammy?"
He should.
But he didn't.
That's just who he'd become in the last three hours. Sam was now a man who was too afraid of his phone to even check to see who was calling him.
Instead he pressed the bottle to his mouth, but didn't take a drink. He'd been working on the single beer since they'd come home. It wasn't going anywhere soon. He wasn't in a hurry.
A burger and salad, two glasses of water and about a third of a beer later and he swore he could still taste Nick. He set the bottle against his knee, liking the weight.
He was perfectly content to keep up his thousand yard stare for the rest of the night as he fought down the continued urge to touch his lips, or sigh in a crippling way, or something else equally self deprecating.
Dean, however, didn't even seem remotely interested in keeping up this little dance they'd been doing so badly since dinner. He leaned over and grabbed up Sam's phone, but the ringing had already stopped. "Two missed calls from Nick." He read before looking over at his kid brother in a pointed way. "What did you two fight about this time? Because I swear you seemed fine when I came to pick you up."
"We didn't have a fight." It had to at least be the fifth time he'd told Dean those words tonight.
"You had a something."
"Just leave it."
He set the phone on the couch beside Sam. "At least let me know if I need to break his other hand."
"I'm not a kid anymore, Dean. I don't need you coming to my rescue every time I have a bad day."
"Bad days you get a little pissy. Right now you're acting like a teenage girl whose boyfriend said her best friend was cuter than her… is that what happened?" Humor lurked somewhere in the undertow of Dean's voice. "Did he tell you I'm the pretty one? You had to find out someday, I'm just sorry he didn't let you down easier."
Sam managed not to smile or encourage his brother in any perceivable way.
"I promise I won't steal him from you."
"Gee, thanks." He picked up his phone and tried not to be too obvious when he checked to see if he had any new messages. There were none- which was for the best. He didn't think he would be able to easily process whatever Nick had to tell him right now.
Dean just watched him and waited.
And it was almost funny- because if Sam knew one thing it was that his brother didn't do touchy feely crap. He couldn't actually be interested in what sort of drama that his baby brother was going through… but he could be interested in what he could do to fix it. Dean was just like that. Always had been. He seemed to want nothing more out of life than to take care of Sam, to plaster him with Band-Aids, or put a warm arm around his shoulders, or tell an inappropriate joke with a hope to earn a smile.
No. Dean didn't want to hear Sam's sad story- unless talking about it would somehow make it better.
That's why they'd had a good dinner. That's why Dean had gotten him a beer and offered to put on Empire Strikes Back.
But when all else fails, dubiously press the 'relationship' question.
"It wasn't a fight… we just-" had never actually kissed before because we aren't in a real relationship and I've been lying to you for two-ish months. Sorry. "I just got to the point tonight when I realized Nick and I aren't looking to get the same thing out of our relationship."
"You know…sometimes I wish I'd been given a brother instead of a little sister."
"Screw you, Dean."
"Come on. You're dating. It's not complicated." He rolled his eyes. "You guys hang out. You eat good food together. You drink good beer together. You have sex- which I'm assuming is good?" He made a slightly disturbed face before continuing. "What else is there?"
"And that is exactly why you never get second dates."
"Psssh. What do you want- you wanna' marry the jack ass? Because I won't stand next to you at the altar and give you away." Dean shook his head, hands raised to god in complete surrender. "Won't do it."
The younger Winchester stiffened.
What a ridiculous idea.
He didn't want to marry Nick.
Sam didn't want a wedding.
Sam only wanted a honeymoon.
And yes. That was definitely wrong- especially so because all those new and still mystifying feelings were directed at someone who wasn't the slightest bit interested in shifting their friendship to something one hundred percent more intimate.
This whole thing was actually worse than his crush on Jess. Jess at least had never involved him in some elaborate charade that required so much prolonged physical contact. He'd never left the friend-zone with his little blonde classmate.
Nick on the other hand?
Well… Sam couldn't say that he'd actually ever been properly initiated to any 'zone' with that strange man. What they had was too complicated, too convoluted to last. It was a relationship built on mutual destruction and luckily all Sam had to do was keep his hormones under control for a few more weeks.
Probably less than that now- because in a moment of complete madness he'd actually acted on those grossly amoral feelings.
That simple hedonistic act had a high chance of breaking up this whole horrible game that they'd been playing so badly for so long.
For not even long enough.
If they could pretend that the kiss hadn't happened, if they could both just ignore the fact that Sam had basically propositioned Nick's mouth then… then…
Sam wanted nothing more than to keep up this giant lie that they had. There was a comfortable friendship settling into the foundation of the shared deception. Sam knew that that at least was real and honest. It had to be, because it served no purpose to convincing their brothers of anything. And if that was all he could have, than he would take it.
He just had an uncomfortable feeling that that was no longer an option.
Dean was still looking up at him, waiting for a response to the teasing. Waiting for a smile.
Sam tried, but it felt strange, insincere at best.
"Sammy, if I'd have known you were going to… fall the son of a bitch I never would have tried to hook you guys up in the first place." He sighed, kind of deflating and returning to his mangled bit of car part that really had no reason for being in the house. "I just wanted to help you get your rocks off- like any decent guy would try and do for his candy ass, broken hearted, baby brother." He picked up what could have been an allen wrench. "I say break up with him. We'll find you someone better."
Sam didn't want someone better.
But he didn't have a good way to say that to Dean that didn't make him sound like some broken spirited housewife with low self esteem, who was convinced she couldn't do any better. That wasn't the case at all. He honestly just didn't think that there was anyone better than Nick.
And that thought was just about as simple as it was sad.
So he drank a little more and asked his brother to explain exactly why minor car repairs were taking place in the middle of their livingroom.
He wasn't brave enough to call Nick that night. He lay in bed hours later, watching his phone apprehensively like it might mutiny against him should he look away. He managed to fall asleep like that, the phone taking up half his bed with its own pillow like the unwelcome guest that it was. And in the morning when he woke he shied away from the little notification telling him that he had four new texts.
Dean had left for work for the day and Sam managed to get himself a shower and a lackluster breakfast of cold cereal before he wrangled up the courage to even see who had been texting him while he slept.
Not surprisingly, it was Nick.
All four messages.
Great.
That wasn't concerning or anything.
-Sam. last night was a mistake
-lets blame the drugs and the fever.
-I dont want it to change things between us because this would be a fucking stupid reason to ruin a good thing
-can we pretend it nevr happened?
Sam couldn't tell if he been given a pardon, an insult, or a death sentence. All he knew was that his hands were shaking and he felt kind of nauseous. He put the phone down and closed his eyes, pressing the heel of one hand to his temple.
Yeah. Sure. They could go and blame the cough syrup that Sam hadn't drank and the fever that had burned itself out a day before. What a perfect scapegoat.
But it meant that he could keep Nick for a while longer, and they could keep up this terrible thing that they had going for themselves. Is that what he really wanted?
Hell yes.
A best friend that you're not allowed to kiss is infinitely better than no best friend.
-pretend what never happened? He texted back while his insides twisted and turned like a bag of snakes.
A few minutes later his phone lit up.
-thats why you're my favorite, darlin
It didn't take much imagination to read the relief in those words. Sam could practically hear Nick's contented sigh. Could easily see the wry smile that would go with the declaration.
Sam couldn't find the will or the words to keep up this conversation. Instead he gathered together his school things and walked the cold, quiet few miles to campus. Delving deep into the first day of new classes and syllabus, trying desperately to ignore his phone. To not take it out between each class and see if Nick had sent him something new.
Every third thought Sam had that day was devoted to wondering if he'd done the right thing.
It didn't feel like the right thing.
It felt like the last feeble graspings of a dying man.
.:.
Nick's hand slid warm against his skin, fingertips almost hesitant as he traced the strong line of Sam's ribs. And Sam shifted because it almost tickled, which was not the feeling that he wanted right then- it wasn't even at all close to what he was looking for.
He was looking for Nick's mouth and the man was moving just as hesitantly in that department, sharp breaths ghosting over Sam's lips, his pale eyes wide and uncertain. Questioning.
"Damn it, Nick." He practically growled, because they'd come this far and he wasn't going to just let it stop now. He kissed the other man, slow and purposeful. Meaning every slow lick and cut of teeth.
And Nick didn't argue.
He never did in these types of dreams.
But like always Sam's mind rebelled against him. Logic overriding his impulsive subconscious and dragging him kicking and screaming back awake.
Sam sat up in bed, skin blistering hot, heart racing like he'd just run all the way up the stairs to his room, terrible ache in his gut and lower parts of his body that were just as treacherous and just as pointedly being ignored.
It had been the same dream almost every night since he'd come home, recovered from his chest cold. Slight variations. Sometimes he and Nick were on the couch instead of on his bed, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes in the car. That subtle change didn't help to ease Sam's mind, or the tightness in his chest.
School had started back up was supposed to have overridden whatever had gone wrong in his head. Something far more distracting and important. But it hadn't, and here he was waking up halfway between utter panic and arousal with a weird feeling of guilt just to top it off. Just for fun.
And it wasn't like he could talk to someone about this.
What was he going to do, tell Dean that somehow, despite all logic, and whatever laws of nature that didn't feel like applying recently, he'd developed a crush on his friend? They were supposed to be dating. You can't get a crush on someone you're dating. Especially not if it was on the grumpy faced, very straight man, that he was dating.
He fell back, head hitting his pillow a little less gently than he had anticipated and he winced. Try as he might to channel his internal Dean, to seek those brotherly words of wisdom that he needed to hear so desperately right now… he had nothing.
This wasn't exactly a situation that he'd run into before this point. He had no basis for the advice that he needed given to him.
He should just go tell Dean. Tell him about the whole lie that had been perpetuating for the last two and a half months and demand to be told how to fix it. Dean might even understand. Sure, he'd be angry at first- but then he'd laugh about it and maybe after a few days of letting Sam suffer he would pull an arm around him and tell him what a screw up he was- but in a way that actually meant 'I still love you' and 'it's ok' and 'here's how we're going to fix it-'.
But how was that even close to fair to Nick?
Sam would go right back to getting set up on dates, now probably with equal amounts of men and women. Inevitably, Nick would be ratted out as well, and in the aftermath things would go right back to how they used to be for him.
Above all else, aside from all those horrible feelings that Sam was suffering though, Nick was his friend. And Sam couldn't just back out now.
It wouldn't be fair… right?
God, he wished he'd never met Nick.
However, that was not a productive thought that would get him out of bed this morning.
He dragged himself up, taking a cold shower and eating a cold breakfast, struggling to keep his mind focused on today and school and other important things that weren't the nightmares he'd been having lately.
"You look awful." Dean said cheerily as he came into the kitchen. He got out a mug and looked at the still sleeping coffee machine, scowling before going through the morning ritual of making the first pot.
Sam took a slow, cleansing breath, finding a smile. "Good morning."
"Were classes yesterday that bad?"
"Just had a hard time sleeping last night." He gave up on trying to trick a man who knew him all too well- hunching forward with rounded shoulder before shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
"Yeah, you've been saying that since you came home last week." Dean pulled out the chair beside Sam in an odd 'you wanna talk about it' gesture.
"Have I?" Sam risked looking up, looking away from his cheerios.
Dean just nodded, drumming his fingers over the table top, kind of pursing his lips, but not saying anything.
"Oh." Damn it. He knew there was a right excuse to use right now, and if he'd been able to get any useable sleep last night he might actually be able to remember what that excuse was.
"You should just dump him. Save us all the pity party."
"It's got nothing to do with Nick."
Dean sat there quietly, watching him with a dubious expression. But Sam was good at this too. He'd had years of practice just staring back at his big brother, daring him to call his bluff. And Dean caved first, rapping his knuckles on the table top before getting up to pour himself some coffee. Almost two minutes later one mug was carefully placed before Sam, an offering.
"Look, I… I know that dad just showing up was… unexpected. But no harm done, right?" Dean tried a very different and very wrong approach. Completely misjudging what was wrong. "He's back home and we all got out of it in one piece. No one even yelled at anyone."
And that last part wasn't true, and the bit right before that wasn't either. There was no way that Sam believed for even a second that Dean was just ok after having spent four days alone with John. He had been talking too loud and smiling too much since then for Sam to buy that particular lie.
No one was ok with John visiting.
No one was remotely close to ok with John coming out here to California. But that crisis had been averted with only a few lingering aches and pains. It was no longer a problem that Sam felt worthy of his anxiety. His old man hadn't been worth it in years.
"It's got nothing to do with dad either." Which was the first honest thing out of his mouth in days.
"Sammy, he means well. You know?"
"Fuck dad. And fuck you for always making excuses for him." Sam put down his spoon, surprised by his sudden anger. He took a slow breath and looked up at Dean again. His brother's mouth had become a thin, angry line. "Sorry." Sam amended softly, knowing that he'd overstepped himself.
Dean huffed and got up, pouring his half drunk coffee down the drain. He didn't come back to the table, and Sam refused to turn around and watch- but he could hear his brother, bumping and thumping his way through each little step of putting together something to eat.
Today was already going downhill rather fast. Dean wanted to talk , or at least wanted to play the part of a good brother and listen- but Sam didn't have anything he could share. He couldn't talk about Nick, and he didn't want to talk about Dad. It left the two of them back to back in an unpleasantly quiet kitchen.
"I'm going to be staying late at work tonight." Dean interrupted his own silence. "Cas is coming in to balance the books."
"How's he been?" Sam latched onto the different topic, somewhere safer to dwell. And he hadn't seen the little accountant since Christmas, it would be nice to get an update.
"He … he's still Cas." Dean said after some consideration. "He asked me about you too. I don't know what the hell you guys are expecting me to say."
Sam chuckled weakly- and then, like a slow dawn rising, a thought came to him. He'd been struggling to give himself advice for over a week now with no success. He didn't know how to fix what he'd done wrong- but maybe he didn't need advice, maybe he just needed someone to listen. Such a horrible thought- a solution to his nightly troubles. A complete betrayal to the master plan that had gone so wrong.
Sam needed an unbiased party to this mess that he'd made for himself.
"Hey, Cas' office is just downtown, right?"
.:.
Sam had a three hour break between his Tuesday classes, falling comfortably around lunch time. He'd set it up that way so he'd have time to go home and eat, or nap, or study as needed. Today he decided to use that time a little differently.
Cas had been confused but seemingly happy to have Sam call him up and ask to take him out to lunch. He'd agreed and, short story even shorter, that's how Sam found himself sitting on the edge of a fountain, eating sandwiches with a man who looked like an unmade bed. Crooked tie and wind tossed hair despite the fact that there was no wind today.
"I take it that you're feeling better." Cas guessed between bites. "Nick said that you gave him quite a bug last week. He still sounds like he swallowed a can of nails."
Sam smiled. He'd actually been making a point since coming home a week ago to not see Nick. Making excuses to himself that the man needed rest- needed some quiet to help him get better. Making worse excuses that they'd already spent more time together than they'd intended and Nick was probably enjoying having the younger man out of his hair and out from underfoot. Honestly, Sam was just afraid of what he might say or do if he had to see those eyes that were paler than the winter sky, or hear Nick's rough voice saying his name like he owned it.
To be fair, Sam couldn't just cut himself off cold turkey, so they'd still been texting off and on- but he was so deeply buried beneath all those levels of self doubt and post-teenage angst (because he really was way too old for this) that he hadn't be able to bring himself to answer the few times that the phone had actually rung. And he felt guilty for that. But he felt guilty for a lot of things right now and that was pretty far down on his list.
"Maybe I'll bring him some cough drops." Sam wouldn't, it just sounded like the right thing to offer.
Cas smiled his odd little smile, distant like they were talking about something else altogether. "I swung by a few days ago and brought him some soup and tea. Though he probably would have preferred it had been you."
Sam ate a bit of his sandwich before acknowledging that statement.
He could be wrong, but Cas seemed like the kind of guy that if Sam didn't just get on with it, the man would never ask. Sitting there, breaking off bits of his bread to toss to the waiting birds that had gathered. Cas looked perfectly at ease. Not even for a moment pausing to wonder why Sam had asked to see him today.
"Dean and I are going out to the movies tonight." He said suddenly before Sam could get up his nerve.
"After you do the books?"
"I did the books last Saturday." Castiel tossed more bread.
Sam frowned. Feeling like there was a fault in his communications with someone- but at the same time not wanting to just outright accuse his brother or Cas of lying to him.
He chose to take a safe road. "What are you guys gunna' see?"
"Whatever looks good at the drive-in. He said we'll just pick one when we get there." Cas looked up, a happy expression spilling over his face. "I've never been to the drive-ins before. I'm looking forward to it."
"I haven't been in years." Sam felt a derailing confusion welling up inside of him. "It's a lot of fun."
The drive-ins? What the hell, Dean? He knew his brother well enough that there was only one reason that he would consider going to the drive-in, and that reason had nothing to do with watching a double feature. But at the same time… the alternative was too weird to actually consider.
"How are classes? Dean said that they started back up last week." Castiel was really very good at changing the subject.
"Yeah, um, they're fine."
The little accountant nodded, pleased to hear this, seemingly not bothered by how awkward this small talk was going. Not at all picking up on Sam's agitation.
And Sam figured that he could dwell on whatever the hell his brother was not telling him he was up to- or focus on what he'd come here for. He decided to just jump in feet first and get it over with. Better the devil you know, or whatever that saying was.
"Hey, can I talk to you about Nick?"
"Certainly." Cas answered back without any hesitation.
"I mean… can I talk to you about Nick and not have you talk to anyone else about it?"
Cas hesitated for the first time, his eyebrows drawing low and he considered the request. "Can I talk to Nick about it?"
"No." Sam felt a swell of the same panic that he kept waking to morning after morning.
Cas blinked and took his time before nodding slowly. "Alright... What about Nick?"
"I…" Well now. Sam realized that other than the general panic he felt about this topic he hadn't really thought it through all the way. Not enough to put the right words to it yet. He struggled with himself before finally saying, "I think I've got a… a crush on him."
And just like that, Sam was reduced to a thirteen year old girl, whispering secrets behind the gym. Next thing you know he was going to be passing notes that said stupid things like 'do you like me? check yes or no'.
Oh the horror.
A strange little pause formed between them as the birds hopped about their feet and traffic passed somewhere off in the near distance. Castiel was looking at Sam, looking at him with those big dark eyes that somehow managed to hold the same intense, and unnamable expression that his big brother did so well.
Castiel started talking slowly, bearing down on Sam with that same unwavering, hard to interpret look. "Since the two of you are dating that's not entirely unexpected. If you're planning to keep it secret from him I should warn you that he might already have suspicions."
"It's not that kind of relationship."
"Are you going to tell me that it's complicated?" He seemed doubtful.
"It's… it's not supposed to be complicated at all." He shook hair from his eyes. "We're just friends."
"Who are sleeping together."
Sam took a slow breath, and thought that if he was talking to almost anyone else they would sink their hooks into that pregnant pause and understand everything that he wasn't saying. But not Castiel. No. He just waited expectantly for Sam to go on.
"We aren't… sleeping together exactly."
Castiel blinked slowly. Twice. "You aren't?"
And it was suddenly all just coming out in a tidal wave of bad words and regrets. He'd never liked lying and the confession that had been sitting there on his tongue for months now just spilled out of him before he could grab hold and keep it back.
But good god, did it feel good to get it all out. Like drawing poison from his blood.
He told Cas everything.
Everything.
The master plan that had been born that first foolish night at the restaurant, the fact that Nick was pulling their sex life out of homoerotic books about the devil and feeding the lies to Gabriel, about how the kiss under the mistletoe a month back had actually been their first kiss- and they'd only shared one more since then, just last week and it was one of the worst mistakes that Sam had ever made.
And Castiel, surprisingly, took all this information in with only the smallest bat of his eyes and a little nod once Sam finally paused to take a deep, long suffering breath.
There should have been some kind of deeper response. Some sort of disappointment that he'd been lied to. Disbelief that two desperate men could plan something so terrible and screw it up so badly.
But Sam was starting to suspect that there was possibly nothing that could really upset this man.
Or maybe Castiel just knew his brother well enough that an almost three month old relationship built on lies was just something that was expected at this point.
So Sam sat there breathing in the fresh, clean air of a guiltless conscious.
Maybe he hadn't come clean in any meaningful way, but a weight had been lifted from off his chest. A weight that he didn't realize that he'd been carrying and now he was suddenly free. He felt himself start to smile and shortly that smile grew into a laugh. Half relief, half some kind of manic panic because is this really what he was doing with his life? This was the depth to which he'd dragged himself?
Wow.
Castiel blinked owlishly at him, expression turning open and confused.
It only made Sam laugh harder. "Sorry. Sorry." He tried to apologize, turning his face away because it was easier to try to reign in his hysteria without an audience.
"I don't see the humor in the situation."
"It's not- I just realized how fucked up this whole thing really is."
For weeks now he'd just been too stubborn to admit to himself that what he was suffering through was more than typical feelings of friendship and camaraderie. Oh sure, he still wanted to push Nick up against the first vertical, load bearing structure that presented itself and kiss the man senseless.
But that was only half of it.
He loved the man's dry sarcasm, and rough teasing. He loved the way Nick's eyes crinkled on the edges, little crow's feet making him actually look his age every now and then. His completely unfunny jokes. The way he played with Sam's hair. His bad driving habits. His bad taste in movies. His cold, cold feet. The way that he watched Sam when he spoke like he was the only thing in the world. His lack of respect when it came to personal space. His big hands that were constantly restless. The way he could wrap his arms around Sam and somehow manage to make it feel like home instead of the awkwardness that should have been there.
And approximately a thousand more little things that were constantly running through Sam's mind like a song that he couldn't seem to shake.
He was so screwed.
If he'd only had a crush on Nick it would have been funny. Straight guy getting all hot and bothered over his also straight (best) friend, yeah- that's sitcom gold. Fun for the whole family. Awkward and kind of cute and easy to find a remedy for.
But Sam couldn't mess up in normal ways. No. He'd gone and fallen in love with his friend and that painful revelation had only just struck him.
It had been there for weeks, if not months.
Castiel waited patiently for the gibbering breakdown to pass.
Castiel was a good man.
Sam was fairly certain of that.
Anyone who wouldn't just get up and walk out on him at this point deserved some kind of honorary title. A key to the city, or something. A sash at least.
"Have you considered telling my brother about your feelings for him?" Castiel asked once the moment had passed and Sam got himself back under control.
"No." He said a bit too loudly, startling the birds.
"It seems like something that he would like to know about."
He thought about the kiss and Nick's very negative reaction to it. "Oh, I'm pretty sure he knows already."
Between the traffic and the fountain and those damnably cheerful birds, the silence that Castiel and Sam shared was rather loud.
"Nick is…" the little accountant pursed his lips, eyes narrowing in thought. "He's not always smart, or observant." He looked up at Sam, earnest expression. "I think you should tell him."
Sam looked at what little sandwich he had left before crumbling the crust of bread and throwing pinches of it to the waiting birds. "That's terrible advice."
Advice like that would require some firm bravery and a strong heart on Sam's part. He honestly wasn't sure that he had either at this point.
"I want my brother to be happy. He deserves to be happy. You make him happy." It wasn't necessarily the most poetic of alliterations, but it served its purpose. "Maybe it's not advice as much as it is selfishness on my part- but in this case I don't mind being selfish."
"I can't just walk up to him and say 'sorry, I know it screws everything up, but I sort of fell in love with you. You want to still be friends anyways?' It doesn't work like that."
Castiel leveled him with a very withering look.
In that moment Sam considered what he had just said. The words that he'd let out. And they really were worse than all the rest weren't they? So much worse. For a horrible moment he thought that his sandwich might come back up. But maybe this is what love was supposed to feel like. Complete and utterly helpless defeat. He just wished that he given himself a little more time to sort out that particular feeling before sharing it with someone else.
"Is this why you invited me to lunch?"
"I think I just needed to talk about it. Actually hear myself say it out loud."
"Do you feel better?"
"I feel a lot worse actually."
Cas almost smiled, the same odd tugging angle of lip that his brother pulled off so well. "I haven't known you for long- but I feel comfortable saying that you're rather stupid."
"Hey!"
"Just about as stupid as my brother… perhaps slightly less." Cas tried to smooth. "He is the type of person who doesn't believe that he has the right to be happy- but you, you are actually refusing to even try." He exhaled sharply through his nose. "You both make me sad."
Which was unfair. Sam knew how well such a confession would go over. Best case scenario, Nick would give him a pained smile and change the subject after a fatal pause. Worst? Sam didn't even want to think about what sort of emotional hell he would be opening himself up to.
"I don't have any good advice that you want to take." Castiel said rather pointedly, like talking to a very stubborn child. "But if you ever want to talk out loud again I am willing to sit and listen and cast quieter and harsher judgments on your poor choices." He stood. "I need to go back to work now though. The sandwich was very nice. Thank you, Sam."
Sam felt like laughing. He guessed that this was why Dean liked Cas so much. The man didn't mess around. "You're welcome?" That might be the right answer, it earned him an approving nod if nothing else.
.:.
Sadly, that night wasn't any different from the many that had come before and Sam woke up from a dead sleep around two in the morning, gasping for breath, feeling unmistakably guilty as his addled brain figured out why he was so sweaty and sticky. He hadn't been this much of a mess since highschool.
The only thing that kept it from being absolutely mortifying was that he was the only one who ever needed to know about it.
He cleaned himself up as best and as quietly as he could. Suffering the cold of his bedroom from outside the protection of his blankets just long enough to change into clean boxers and sweats. No hesitation before crawling back into bed beneath all those lovely blankets and he was surprised at how well he managed to ignore the momentary confusion and disappointment when he remembered that he was alone.
Still very much so, alone.
Why did he keep thinking that that might suddenly change?
It was going to take some effort to get reaccustomed to sleeping in a bed all by himself.
A few restless minutes later and he wasn't entirely sure if he had fallen back asleep or if he was still on the outskirts of wakefulness when he found himself texting Nick. The phone glowing like a dying star, captive beneath the blankets. Painfully bright.
-you asleep yet? And his thumb was hitting send practically on its own accord.
Unfortunately Nick texted back. Almost immediately. –it's not even 3 yet. Why would I be sleeping?
Sam almost sent something incriminating like 'I miss you' but managed to change it to 'I miss having someone else in bed'- which actually wasn't a great improvement.
-it's kind of cold He added in a feeble attempt at saving face.
-youre cold? You took my space heater with you when you left. Im freezing my ass off here.
Sam smiled at his phone before he managed to drop it on his face, which was another thing he was grateful that no one was around to witness.
-turn the heater on. He sent with one eye closed, lingering ache.
-the heater doesnt have your smile
Sam felt that kind of warm affection that he only really got when he was drunk or half asleep.
-you have school in a few hours?
Sam sent back a negative and was surprised by Nick's next message.
-come get coffee with me
-it's 2:45 in the morning. Sam pointed out even though he felt it a bit unnecessary.
-coffee isnt illegal before 6
-it's got to be below 40 outside. I'm not getting on your bike. I was a fair argument in his opinion.
-we can take my car
And that is exactly how Sam found himself sneaking out of his own house in the middle of the night to run away with his boyfriend. He must have just been looking for an excuse, some action or reaction, any words that he could use to make sure that they would actually be able to move past that kiss.
Sitting in the passenger seat, hands held up to the little vent that was blowing hot air with all its might, Sam watched the nocturnal city lights giving way to stars and an empty stretch of highway that stretched out into nothingness. Void above, void below. And here sat Sam in the middle of it.
Good god, but he should be sleeping right now.
"Where is this coffee that you promised exactly?" Sam asked, only slightly concerned at his own apparent kidnapping as they passed the city limits, the sign flaring up briefly in the car's headlights.
Nick was tight jawed against the cold that hadn't quite been vanquished yet, the collar of his leather jacket popped up in an attempt to keep the back of his neck warm. "Pacifica."
"That's a half an hour drive… for coffee."
"It's really good coffee. There's a place out in Monterey too, but that's almost two hours and it felt a little ridiculous and out of the way."
"You're a little ridiculous." Sam sniped back, at the same time he was smiling in the dark of the car where his amusement could be easily hidden.
"And out of the way?" Nick asked, finishing the thought.
"No. I think you've been in the way since I met you."
"In the way of what?"
Sam yawned wide enough that his jaw popped. "Everything."
Nick considered this for a moment before nodding with a hint of a smile all his own. "Fair enough."
A quiet that was almost comfortable settled into the cab of the car and Sam quickly realized that he was at risk for drifting back to sleep. If he dozed off now, during the last trip that they might have together…
It made his chest hurt. He'd had hours to think about Castiel's simple advice. Hours to talk himself out of taking such damning advice.
Instead he would follow the coward's way out. The option that was least likely to see his heart trampled underfoot. He would just keep pushing forward. Don't upset the status quo. Nick wanted things to stay how they had been. Sam wanted that too… kind of. Well, not really. But at the same time he didn't want not that.
So he would just keep up pretenses for a few more days.
That's all he had left.
He could do this for one more week.
They'd come too far to start sabotaging things now.
And many other lies he'd been telling himself so convincingly that he had started to actually believe it.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to focus on the shadowed scenery wizzing past outside, but there wasn't more than a quarter moon tonight, and the coastal roads didn't have much to offer other than pale sand dunes anyways.
"Nick?"
The man humphed softly in acknowledgment.
But Sam had no idea what he wanted to say. He sort of panicked. "I – I missed you."
Sam was not all that good at playing it cool.
For some reason the little stutter got Nick laughing, just a soft chuckle that made his shoulders bounce. "I missed you too, darlin'."
And it was completely unfair that he still called Sam that stupid nickname. What should have been a joke the first night that they met had turned into something utterly charming and equally distracting.
"How's school going?" The terrible man continued in a light tone.
Ah, they could to this. This was nice. This was familiar.
The two of them made some of that casually awkward small talk that had introduced them to each other months ago. They spoke of school, and Nick's job, and the weather. Plans for that summer. Things that they'd both done ten or fifteen summers ago- and just generally stupid and distracting things that started with safe words like 'I' and nothing that contained 'we' or 'us'.
No one mentioned the fact that they were supposed to break up sometime in the next five or so days. Neither of them brought up the rough, slow kiss that Sam had given Nick a week ago. They didn't talk about the few days that they'd spent in bed within arm's reach of each other.
It honestly felt like there was a lot more left unsaid during that drive.
But that's alright.
At least it was, because at some point the warm glow of Pacifica lit up the sky as they crested one of the dunes. Orange and gold lights reflecting off the ocean, making the little city look almost twice its size. Had it already been half an hour? There was no clock in the car- but judging by the speedometer and the fact that they were pushing the triple digits, it was safe to bet that they'd made the drive in record time.
Nick downshifted the car as they came down that last hill and took the freeway off ramp. They idled at a traffic light and the man's had slipped from the gearshift to Sam's leg, just a touch above his knee.
Whatever childhood story that Sam had been encouraged into telling died on his lips, his mouth going dry as Nick's thumb made slow circles on his thigh. Sam suffered in relative silence, struggling to figure out how he was supposed to respond to this sudden development, and what on earth it was supposed to mean?
Why the hell was Nick touching him?!
It took just about everything Sam had in him at this ungodly hour to not put and hand over Nick's and pull it up into his lap where it could cause some real trouble.
Sam thanked the dark that the man couldn't see what made him shift so uncomfortably in his seat. Fighting down his body's natural hormonal response to such unexpected physical contact.
Wouldn't it be just fantastic if this wasn't a problem that he had?
Traditionally straight men who could stick to their convictions must have it so easy.
Though looking over at his friend's stony profile- maybe those straight guys still had problems all their own.
The traffic light changed, bathing the intersection in a surreal green glow and Nick's hand went back to the gear shift and Sam's knee felt very cold at the abandonment. They were the only car on the road, the little city's streets completely empty, but it was the middle of the night outside of tourist season. They had the whole world to themselves, or at least it felt that way. Nick didn't even slow down for most of the stop signs; much less actually stop for them. Sam was all raw nerves at this point and the blatant disregard for traffic laws only made it worse.
He closed his eyes and didn't open them again until the car came to a full and complete stop.
As luck would have it, the coffee shop was closed. It wouldn't open until four. And such things were keeping well with the theme of the last few days, so Sam wasn't going to start complaining now.
Nick killed the engine and the windows started fogging over almost immediately. Within seconds Sam could no longer make out the empty parking lot outside or the little empty storefronts.
"You drive too fast." He whispered to the car, a soft lecture to a machine that was only built for one thing, and that was what Sam was telling it not to do.
"We made it in one piece." Nick scoffed.
"In half the time we were supposed to." Sam pointed out, looking at the white windows because it felt a hell of a lot safer than turning in his seat to face the man he was talking to.
"And you're complaining about us making good time?"
"Now we have to wait." He pointed out, glancing sideways only far enough to see how tightly Nick was strangling the steering wheel.
Using the clumsy little crank, Sam unrolled his window, hoping to let in some cooler air and defog things just a bit. It didn't help, but it let them hear the sea, relentless crashing of waves. It immediately brought Sam back to their trip to San Francisco right before Christmas, sitting next to the bonfire, curled around Nick for warmth while the ocean kept rolling and the rain pattered down. And Pacifica was different from the beach out at Santa Cruz. Here there were sheer cliffs and rough breakers on either side of the bay. It made the sound louder somehow, trapping it.
"You think someone left the stuff to make a fire out of the beach?"
Nick audibly swallowed, a rough little noise before finding his voice. "Maybe… did you want to go look?"
Sam nodded at the dark night outside instead of trying to speak, but the man must have been watching him because he said "Alright," and opened his door.
They walked down to the beach, side by side, shoulders bumping now and then and it was mostly for warmth. That's what Sam told himself at least. From one end of the beach to the other they trudged through the sand, not so much as a piece of driftwood in sight.
"Parks and Recs district sure does keep things tidy out here, don't they?" Nick wondered aloud as they passed beneath the pier.
"Real inconsiderate of them."
"Right?" He bumped into Sam a bit harder than necessary, sending the younger man stumbling sideways a few feet.
"Hey." Sam caught himself against one of the pylons, laughing softly. "I don't know how I'm going to explain all this sand in my shoes when I get home."
Nick waited for Sam to catch up, hand deep in his pockets, and even in the deep shadows in which they stood, his smile was hard to miss. "You didn't tell your brother where you were going?"
"First off, he was asleep like a normal human, because it's the middle of the night. Second, even if I had, how would 'I'm going to get coffee' possible explain why I've got sand in my shoes?"
"Well, I guess when you put it like that…"
Sam gave him a shove back, sending his friend into the surf, splashing in the inch deep wave..
"Oh my god." Nick almost managed to sound angry, but he was laughing too hard. "Sam Winchester, you are a monster."
"You started it." He scuttled sideways to avoid the dangerous blond man who was suddenly darting after him with long reaching arms.
"Come back here."
"No thanks." Sam tried to run. He was used to having legs that were good at covering a lot of ground. It generally kept him safe from purist. However, Nick was almost as tall as him and his legs just as long. They chased each other down the beach, kicking sand everywhere and laughing loud enough to challenge the crashing waves.
Nick stopped to catch his breath, bending over, hands on his knees and Sam got a little worried when his friend stayed that was for more than a few seconds.
And it's not that Nick was particularly old or out of shape, but he didn't seem the type of man who spend a lot of time running around. Sam still went jogging most mornings (weather and health permitting), he had to have better stamina.
"Hey, you ok?"
Nick didn't answer, so Sam closed the distance between them, worry settling in deeper. For all he knew the man had asthma and was having some kind of attack… or he was just a dirty liar, because as soon as Sam was close enough Nick pounced on him, letting out a victorious whoop of joy as they went tumbling to the sand.
"You son of a bitch." Sam borrowed his brother's favorite phrase as he struggled to focus on the man who was lying atop him, a very warm and solid weight.
"Did I win?"
"You cheated." He huffed, sullen, trying very hard not to smile.
"I didn't see any rules posted. Can't cheat if there's no rules."
Sam put his arms around Nick's neck in what more closely resembled a choke hold than anything even halfway friendly. "I could roll us both out into the water."
"You wouldn't." Nick braced himself, grasping at the sand beneath them, then at Sam's shoulders and the folds of his sweatshirt.
"I wouldn't?"
"No." Nick said carefully, gently, trying to talk some sense into the younger man laying underneath him. "You're not the kind of guy who would risk drowning himself just to prove a point."
"I'm not?" He managed to sound rather skeptical as he gave Nick an experimental tug.
"No. Definitely not. You've got a kind face." As if that were any basis for such trust or hope. "Look at those dimples. Someone with dimples like that would never drag me out to sea."
Which was a fair enough assessment, so Sam loosened his grip, relaxing into the sand. It was only then that he realized where he was. That the insanity of this situation started to sink in.
"Do you think the coffee shop is open yet?" And his voice didn't shake too badly.
Nick had the decency to look utterly confused for a moment. "Coffee?"
"Coffee." Sam sounded out slowly, hoping that his friend could get it together before he too became aware of their borderline romantic cuddling on the beach.
"Oh. Yeah, they've probably opened by now." The man seemed almost reluctant to climb to his feet, offering down a hand to help Sam up.
The shop had opened and Sam had managed to shake the majority of the sand from his hair by the time the two of them stumbled into the brightly lit little café. Though the barista looked at them like they were lunatics, she made them coffee and handed over two muffins, her reluctant expression turning bright as Nick dropped a twenty into the tip jar.
They must have still looked like mad men, dragging themselves up from the beach, a little wet and rather sandy, wild eyed in the early sleepless hour. But they took their breakfast and went outside to drink it, so what did it matter what they looked like.
The coffee tasted just like coffee. Nothing special about it. No reason for the drive all the way out here, except for the company. And Sam found himself smiling as he drank, realizing that most of the anxiety that had been plaguing him for the last week had all by left. He was in far too good of a mood to worry that he might have ruined things. Nick was teasing him and chuckling too much for the world to be as wrong as it had felt.
.:.
Maybe it was just Sam's imagination, but the drive home seemed to take roughly an eternity. The dunes rising and falling on either side of the car and the sky still dark, not even thinking of changing yet to the odd colors of predawn.
He glanced over at the speedometer and was surprised to see that they we hardly even going fifty.
It was a rather intentional speed, and a horrible thought gripped Sam, that despite the light moment that they'd managed at the beach, that this might be it. The end of it. The end of three really good months.
Sam was exhausted down to his bones, a dull need for sleep chewing away at the caffeine buzz that had his hands shaking. His thought felt disjointed, dreamlike at best- because this wasn't right. They had a handful of days left to them. Almost a week until Valentine 's Day and the breakup that they'd planned months in advance. You don't drag someone out of bed and all the way out to the sea just to break up with them.
But if that's true then why were they driving so slowly and why was Nick being so quiet?
And Sam had every intention of asking if his friend something asinine to break the silence, but instead he heard himself lining up the words "that kiss the other night," and then he sort of trailed off. Realizing with horror what he'd been saying, and knowing that it was too much to hope that Nick hadn't heard him.
"Hey, Mister College, we had a written agreement. It never happened." Nick said in a very soft, very firm voice. "And you'll only confuse things if you bring up something that never happened."
Yup. Just like that.
It never happened.
Sam had never kissed him. Had never crossed that line.
They had it in writing.
Sam turned in his seat, but not towards Nick. He turned to look out the window because those barren sand dunes were more forgiving than his other option.
Just like that their quiet lost any semblance of comfort and Sam realized that even if there had been only gentleness in Nick's words that he wasn't going to be able to do this.
Mile markers rolled past them, flaring up for a second at most as the headlights hit them.
They'd only lose the last few days off the tail end of their original plan if they just stopped tonight. Admirably, that's a pretty good run. Three months worth of a relationship that never should have worked in the first place. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Sam forced out the question, "so… do you want to break up early?"
"What? No." Nick's voice had gone startlingly loud in the small confines of the car. "Fuck, Sam. I don't want to break up."
Sam looked over his shoulder, taking in all his friend's angry lines and angles.
"I just wanted some god damned coffee. You think I'm going to drive you out to the middle of fucking nowhere to tell you that we've convinced our brothers well enough, but this little game's getting too weird and I want out?" He managed to make the suggestion sound utterly ridiculous. "I could have done that over the phone."
"Maybe you just wanted an isolated place to dump the body."
Nick kind of laughed at that, but it wasn't really a joke so Sam didn't join him.
"Look, we were both tired." The older man tried before the silence became too oppressive. "And it happened and I don't expect you to apologize- because I sure as hell don't plan to."
Which was unfair, because Sam would. He would apologize in a hot second if he thought that it might make this better.
The emotion that Nick chose to put into his words didn't have a name. "I like kissing. I like you. Those two things were bound to try and mix at some point. But it didn't work. The end."
But it had worked and that was the crux of this whole damn thing.
Those few seconds that they'd let their mouths meet had definitely worked for Sam. He couldn't keep his memory of that kiss from barreling through his mind like a destructive force of nature- any more than he could keep the little shreds of the dream he'd woken from so recently from returning to play havoc with what little sanity he had left at this unnaturally early hour.
They'd been in the kitchen, because naturally that was the best place for such things, only Sam had been the one on the counter and Nick had been the one between his knees. Kissing him until it hurt. His hands making rough work of Sam's jeans while they ground their bodies together as much as their awkward, counter-bound tangle would allow for. And there was no basis for the dream. No foundation in reality, but that hadn't stopped it. It had been a bad dream. It had been a fantastic dream. But mostly it had just been wet.
Sam pressed the soft spot below his thumb over his mouth, looking out his window and trying very hard to keep his thoughts and body under control.
"Look… I like you." Nick made a bad noise that almost resembled a laugh. "I mean, obviously. That's how this whole mess got started. But you're my friend and… and I think for the sake of not fucking that up I'm going to stop talking right now."
If you're going to be turned down there were certainly worse ways for it to happen.
"Nick," Sam considered his words carefully, "even if it was for a stupid reason, I'm glad that I met you." He managed to find enough courage to look over a second time, just quick enough to see Nick's eyes wide and confused, his lips curving up and then down like he couldn't decide how he was meant to feel as he shot little glances from the road, over at the passenger seat.
Nick was all sorts of hesitation and false starts before he finally got out, "Would it be too weird if I told you that you're pretty much my favorite person?"
That was possible the worst thing that anyone had ever told Sam.
"No." Sam's eyes stung as he struggled to focus on the scrolling landscape outside his window. "I think I can be ok with that."