an:/ for those who don't know, there's a side story to this... which i may or may not have mentioned at some point? I don't know any more. It's called 'Those quiet things that no one ever knows' and it's chunks of the story from nick's point of view. It's a little happy and a little... not happy in places. But it's great supplement while you're waiting half of forever between the updates in this story- which is almost done. Yay? You all looking forward to a nice happy(?) ending?

I am.

These dumb boys give me anxiety some times. I didn't know what I was getting myself into when I started this story.

Brace yourselves for the parade of balloons and puppies and sprinkley cupcakes that will be the ending

In the cold light of morning, hours past the drive back from the beach, Sam couldn't say why he'd let Nick stay the night. He couldn't even remember which of them had suggested it or if they'd just come to some sort of communal, idiotic decision.

It certainly hadn't been one of the better choices that they'd made since they'd met, though it wasn't the worst either. Nick even behaved himself like a perfect gentleman for the first time ever and didn't tuck a single hand or foot under the younger man for warmth.

Sam had never felt so lonely while only inches away from another human being.

But that was last night and this was this morning and there was Nick, hibernating beside him under a veritable mountain of blankets in that way that he did so very well, completely hidden- all except for one arm.

One arm had ventured from that burrow to hook easily around Sam's waist.

And Sam wasn't like Nick. He didn't get all that cold, especially not with a well insulated body beside him. He'd willingly sacrificed his blankets during the night, stretched out over his half of the small bed and there wasn't much between him and that arm now other than a bit of tshirt.

It was a beautifully crippling feeling but Sam was too terrified to enjoy the situation he'd found himself in. He couldn't move.

Not to pull away and not to draw closer.

Nick's fingers were softly flexing against his side, unconscious little twitches every few minutes.

If Sam had been a weaker man he might have done something irrevocably stupid. Instead he let himself have a long, slow stretch, arching enough that his shirt pulled up just a touch. It was enough that it let Nick's twitching fingers crush bare skin and Sam thought that it might be the end of him right then and there.

There was no point in tracking how long he lay there, muscles tight with the strain to keep himself at the right angle for optimal touching. It could have been a few minutes or it could have been an hour- hell it could have been all day- and it still wouldn't have been long enough to satisfy Sam.

It wasn't low enough either.

But that was a problem all on its own.

With more courage than he thought that he had, Sam managed to crawl out from the gentle embrace of the living bear trap that was Nick.

It wasn't easy to do, but it helped to maintain whatever peace they had left between them after last night. Sam left a very important part of himself back up in that bed, but he could hear the distinct sound of his brother fumbling around in the kitchen and there was safety in those familiar sounds.

Today was Wednesday and Dean should already have left for work, though that fact was slow at getting through Sam's brain. He came all the way down stairs and found himself standing dumbly in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at a man who was definitively not his brother, struggling to make coffee.

"Morning." He managed to squeeze the words past the complete bewilderment that he felt.

Why on earth was the Castiel in his kitchen?

More importantly, why was he wearing Dean's ACDC tshirt?

The accountant looked positively small without the protection of one of those suits that he always wore. Almost vulnerable in just a shirt and boxers, with his skinny legs and bare feet. It was positively surreal.

The dark haired man looked up from the cupboard he was digging through and he smiled in a completely shameless manner. "Good morning. Where are the mugs?"

Sam slowly pointed at the cupboards beside the refrigerator. "Where's Dean?" His brother and Cas must have had plans for this morning… yeah. That must be it. It was logical and reasonable and absolutely failed to explain Castiel's outfit, but no sanity preserving lie was perfect.

"He's still in bed." The man said simply as he pulled down two mugs, hesitating for a second. "Would you like some too?"

"No thank you."

There had to be logic in this somewhere… right? But the only solution that Sam's brain was giving him couldn't be the right one. It couldn't.

He decided to try and supervise these goings on because it gave him a familiar place to stand. "Dean likes his coffee to be at least half creamer."

"I know. He showed me how he takes his coffee last week when he spent the night at my place."

Last week? When Sam was out of the house Dean had… that wasn't right. That couldn't be right. Dean had been working on getting John out of the house- he wouldn't have had time to…

Then again, Dad hadn't stayed for the whole week. Only a handful of days.

That would leave plenty of time for Dean to visit his friend and… and spend the night.

But why?

Unfortunately, the why was starting to become disturbingly obvious the longer Sam tried to make sense of Castiel's more than usually disheveled appearance.

Sam flatly refused to give the idea any weight. It was just too… no. No. Castiel didn't come home with Dean after the drive-ins last night.

He couldn't have.

It was too weird.

So Sam stood, feeling incredibly lost as he watched Castiel take two cups of coffee and head back upstairs.

Sam had problems a plenty to call his own, but for a few seconds they felt a little less important.

He made some breakfast, which consisted of a very big mug of very black coffee and by the time Nick stumbled downstairs Sam was almost human feeling again. His head unpleasantly clear.

Like a photo negative of Sam, still half asleep, bleary eyed and staggering just a little, Nick made his way to the table. Instead of taking a seat like a normal human, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the top of Sam's head.

"Hey."

"Hey." Sam said back smooth as you like, no perceivable tremor in his voice. "Coffee's in the pot."

Nick's mouth hadn't left Sam's hair and he whispered. "You're too good to me." Hot breath tickling along his scalp.

It was harder than it should have been to find all the right words and then to put them in some kind of order that resembled the bones of the English language. "I… uh, I didn't make it. Cas did. But I'll send him your compliments."

Nick straightened, hand on the back of Sam's chair. "Excuse me?"

Sam looked up, head resting back against Nick's stomach. "Your brother, the nice, quiet one, he made the coffee."

"Oh." Nick said slowly, but not like he really understood- and Sam didn't have the heart to tell him that his brother was still here, still upstairs and most likely doing things that no one other than Dean was going to be approving of.

Such thoughts.

Thoughts like that could haunt a man.

Big brothers weren't supposed to bring boys home.

Sam didn't know if he should feel happy for them, or disturbed, or just plain confused. But there were no rules that said he couldn't pick all of the above, so that's where he decided to settle.

He sipped at his coffee and watched Nick wander around the kitchen, opening just about every cupboard possible before finding a mug and struggling through fixing up his drink how he liked it.

After almost five minutes Sam realized that he couldn't take it anymore. "Oh- for god's sake." He got to his feet and pushed Nick towards the table. "I'll do it."

"But you don't know how I like my coffee."

Sam snorted and simply carried on- because yes, he did. In less than a minute he was setting the man's drink down in front of him, far too pleased with himself.

But it was useless knowledge. Yeah, he knew how Nick liked his coffee. What the hell was he supposed to do with this information a week from now? He supposed he could anonymously send his friend drinks on a regular basis after they became exfriends.

"You alright?" Nick gently questioned, worry in his pale eyes.

That's when Sam realized he was making a bad face, his whole body trying to recoil from the dreadful thoughts that he couldn't seem to shake. He gave one of his best smiles. "Yeah, just a bit tired."

The older man peered over his perfect cup of joe, vague suspicion in his gaze, but he let it drop. "Do you have class later?"

"Not until after noon."

"I can give you a ride."

"No, that's alright."

Which was the wrong answer, or at least it was said far too quickly because it was met with a sharp silence.

Some days it felt like Sam couldn't do anything right.

"You want to run away from home together instead?" Nick suddenly offered with startling cheerfulness.

Sam didn't miss a beat. "We did that last night."

"But we don't have to come back this time." He promised, little smile dancing through his eyes even as he did his best to hide his mouth behind his mug. "I've got some money saved up. Anywhere you want to go."

"I got class in a few hours." Which was not the same thing as a 'no'- so much as a 'there's no way that I can'. And god but he wish that he could. He had no idea why he was being given an offer like this, except that Nick was a borderline lunatic who didn't seem to give a single fuck about what was socially acceptable for him to do or not do, or ask, or offer.

"After class?"

Sam felt his mouth go tight, pressing his lips into a thin line of denial. "I've got classes for the next four months."

"After those classes?"

Would it be inappropriate to grab Nick by the shoulders and start shaking him violently while yelling 'what the hell are you trying to do to me?'?

It felt like it might be inappropriate.

Sam almost did it anyways.

Instead he managed, "for the summer, as friends? Sure." He had no idea what he was even saying. This wasn't him. He didn't say things like this. This was just mean. He had no idea that he was even capable of hating himself this much.

Nick gave him a complicated expression in return.

Sam swore the man didn't even blink.

And what did he want? What was he expecting? Sam was giving the best offer that he thought he could actually keep. He wasn't a strong man. He was surprised he was even capable of this much when the only thing he wanted to do was forcibly drag the table out of the way and crawl into Nick's lap. Which is actually not a fair thing to do to a man who had finally expressed his personal boundaries.

Lightly joking around for the sake of upsetting family was one thing. Actually doing the things that they joked about so much was quite another.

And that was ok. Really. Sam got that Nick didn't think of him that way. He didn't like it, but he got it. And it was what it was.

"How do you feel about camping?" He offered softly.

Nick's eyebrows went up a fraction.

"We can go to Yosemite… maybe we'll even see a bear."

It was like someone threw a switch, Nick's whole face lit up and he started laughing. The difference was night and day, and everything was ok again.

Or at least as ok as things were going to get from here on out.

"I've heard the place is crawling with bears." Sam pressed on.

"It's a damn lie, I tell you." Nick had to set his mug down, pressing the back of a hand to his mouth, holding in a very healthy laugh. "People who say they see bears out there are just attention seeking bastards."

"You know, I've actually heard that too."

Nick kicked him under the table, nothing too hard, but he hit bone and it would probably leave a bruise. Sam kicked back, and as childish as it was they still managed to conduct a well and truly spectacular foot fight. It ended in a tie when Sam's coffee got bumped to hard and sent a dark spill racing over the table top.

"Damn it." Sam pushed himself up and went running for the paper towels while Nick cupped a hand under the edge of the table to catch the slow drips before they could hit the floor.

"I got it. I got it." He bumped Nick aside with a hip and started sopping up the mess. "See, this is why we can't have nice things."

"No offence, but it's kind of a crappy table."

"I meant the moment. The moment was a nice thing." The second the words left his mouth he realized how stupid they sounded, but no mocking reply came to him and that was even worse somehow. Sam risked a glance down and saw that his friend was still holding a careful handful of coffee. "Are you planning to save that for later?"

"… maybe." And Nick wasn't looking at Sam, he was shifting awkwardly in his seat, handful of coffee, like he did this all the time.

Sam nudged him again, knocking Nick's hip with a knee- and that finally got the other man going.

Nick went to the sink and washed his hands. He didn't come back to the table though. He just stayed there on the far side of the kitchen, looking out the window at the backyard. "I'm not all that big on camping."

"Oh." Sam tossed the wet paper towels into the trash. "Are you more of a road trip to Tijuana type instead?"

"I'm a 'I'll follow you anywhere you want to go- but I'd prefer it not be camping' type."

"Backpacking across Russia."

That was an odd enough suggestion that Nick actually turned around. "Ok, no. That's still basically camping, but you have to walk all day- and why the hell Russia?"

"Vast wilderness. Solitude. Radioactive bears." Did there need to be any better reasons?

"I almost accused you of trying to get me alone… but then there you go with the bears again."

"The bears are just coincidental at this point." Sam tried a smile, it's all he felt that he could manage at this stage in the conversation. He'd sort of backed himself into a verbal corner and had no idea how to talk his way out of it.

"Riiight." Nick dragged the word out, looking highly skeptical, leaning against the counter in the same wrinkled tshirt and jeans that he'd worn yesterday and last night. And he had no right looking so good in such a rumpled set of clothes. Practically criminal and wholly distracting the way he was folding his arms over his chest, making little creases where his shirt was pulled tight over his shoulders.

"Maybe we could drive up the coast. Keep going until we hit Canada. Do touristy things during the day. Stay in crappy motels that only have single beds at night…"

"You be careful, darlin'. I might take you up on an offer like that, and then where would we be?"

Where indeed?

Half an hour, and two more drastic topic changes that didn't ease any of the tension, later Sam found himself lingering in the doorway, watching Nick shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. He needed to go home and change before work- just like Sam needed to get a shower and go to school. If this had been a few weeks ago, someone would have leaned in and kissed someone's cheek. No one ever really used to care who instigated the little goodbye.

But that was before and this was now, and they both just stood there like two emotionally repressed jackasses.

"You got any time between now and Valentine's Day?" Nick said after two or three stuttering false starts, even now not quite meeting Sam's eyes. Looking at his mouth or neck or pretty much anything that didn't speak of any commitment to the question. "We could get dinner or something… you know, one last time."

Those words. One last time. Suddenly Sam felt like he was having a heart attack.

He was fairly certain that it took roughly an hour for him to manage a tight smile and half an answer. "Aw, Luci, you wanna' take me out for dinner?"

"I was thinking of ordering out actually. We could stay in. Watch a movie."

"So… same as we normally do then?"

Nick took a moseying little step closer, the toes of his boots nudging Sam's bare feet. "It'd be damn strange to go and start changing things now, right?" And who stands that close? There was only a breath between them and it was hardly enough.

Sam shrugged, because this late in the game what would be the point in trying something new- also, he honestly preferred to be alone with Nick, not dressing up and going out someplace nice where he'd have to watch every little things that he said or did.

Though, maybe for safety reasons it would be far wiser to go out. Staying in could only lead to more of this. And this? This was bad. This was dangerous. This is just about as close as they'd managed to get back at Nick's apartment before Sam suddenly found himself kissing him.

It seemed that every time Sam had found himself alone with Nick lately he'd managed to take things from uneasy to horrifically terrible.

And as par for the course, somewhere in the middle of that reflection, he became aware that Nick was saying something to him- but Sam's ears weren't working. All he could think was that despite the man having slightly red eyes from not enough sleep, more stubble than usual, and morning breath half hidden under the strong scent of coffee, Sam still wanted to lick him like a lollipop should be licked.

He mused that there was probably no clearer definition of lovesick.

Or at least of being wound up tighter than an eight day clock.

Now, rumor had it that Sam was a smart college kid, with a stunning GPA, and great potential, and yet he continuously managed to misinterpret almost every little move that Nick made. Sam knew that he was just reading into this what he wanted to. Clinging to those little moments when he could lie to himself and pretend that this whole thing wasn't just the biggest, most painful mistake that he'd ever sunk himself into.

It was just too easy to fool himself into thinking that Nick's intentions were something real and actual and not just their cover story and all of its agonizing manifestations.

It was getting too hard to remind himself of that fact, as the man reached out and tenderly thumbed along Sam's jawbone. A gentle touch that was as casual as it was intimate.

Sam hated every second of it. Hated himself for how he let his eyes close, and for how he leaned into Nick's hand.

A very soft, very slow kiss was placed on his cheek and nothing in the world could have made Sam open his eyes right then.

"I don't mind being a little late for work." Nick spoke in a stunningly low, life ruining kind of whisper. "We could head back upstairs, fool around until you have to go to school."

Sam laughed because it was what he was supposed to do, and also because it occupied his mouth and kept him from begging 'oh god, yes'. He managed a gentle shove to Nick's chest and a half hearted "I've still got to go take a shower to get all the sand out of my hair, jerk."

He really should have dropped his hands after that instead of leaving them there on the man's chest, but it was comfortable with them standing so close, with Nick still pressed against his cheek.

"I could come with. I am a very good helper." One of Nick's rough hands settled against Sam's side, just above his hip in a way that felt almost menacing.

"You are the opposite of a very good anything."

So was Sam at this point, but hey, he never said he wasn't a hypocrite.

Nick chuckled, just a soft little puff of laughter against Sam's ear and the younger man broke. He slid his arms around his friend's shoulders and pulled him into the tightest hug that he could manage. The laugh turned into a breathy startled noise, but then Nick's hand was leaving Sam's hip for the small of his back and that grumpy blonde was making up the other half of the bone bruising embrace.

In the three months that they'd known each other they had never actually hugged. They'd looped arms casually around each other, they'd leaned against one another- but Sam had never held Nick against him and suddenly he'd realized that if he didn't do it now he would probably never have a chance to.

And oh, he'd been missing out on something wonderful. They fit together like they were made for just this arrangement. Hips and shoulders and knees all lining up with perfection. There wasn't enough room for an sliver of sunlight to pass between them, and that seemed like a good thing in that moment- and then it seemed like a particularly wonderful thing as Nick's hand slid from his cheek to tangle in his hair and his friend kissed his cheek once more.

How long can two people hug in an open doorway in the bitter cold of a February morning?

Indefinitely.

Sam didn't want to let go. Even if he knew that he should. That he had to.

He dared, just for a second, to be brave and say the right thing.

"It might just be easier to say goodbye right now and lie to our brothers about the breakup later-"

"Fuck that." Nick interrupted very forcefully. "I get at least one more night with you. One more dinner. One more movie. One more time to try and keep my hands warm using your unhealthy body heat. One more chance to say something that I can regret for the rest of my foreseeable future- and you don't get to take that from me. We had a deal, darlin'. We shook on it." All this was said in that same rough whisper against Sam's ear that made his stomach flutter and goosebumps run up his bare arms (or maybe that last bit was just because it was really cold outside and they were just standing there in the doorway, exposed to the wind).

And well… they had shaken on it. That was the same as a binding contract. Sam didn't really have a choice, did he?

They were still holding each other, tight enough that Sam couldn't remember why he should be letting go. He buried his face in the side of Nick's throat, feeling the soft warmth of him, smelling the salt of his skin, kissing the slow steady pulse just below the surface.

Now, Nick didn't say no.

He didn't say anything.

Not that he should have had to- Sam knew well enough that this was not something that he should be doing, but he was sort of caught up in the moment. He kissed his friend's throat again, slower, a bit more thoroughly. Teeth scraping along tender skin and Nick was fisting a hand in his hair, making a noise very close to a growl.

That got Sam's attention, his breath catching in his chest and choking him like smoke. Completely mortified at what he'd found himself doing, he started to fight with his body, struggling to let go and step back to somewhere safer.

Nick wasn't loosening his grip, fingers digging into his scalp, holding Sam so close. "I know it's probably been awhile for you- but that actually means don't stop."

"Nick, oh god, I-"

"Please."

And who begs 'please' to something like this?

More importantly, who says no?

He kissed that offered throat with full permission and not a single idea what, or why he was doing it- except that it was good. Nick tasted like the sea and sleep, and as Sam worked a gentle bruise into the man's skin he really stopped caring about the semantics behind it.

Biting Nick was another one of those things that Sam couldn't find the ability to give a single good god damn about. Teeth tentatively cutting into the arch of his collar bone, Nick made a very deliberate, very bad noise, and Sam lost it.

He managed one and a half shuffling steps forwards, backing Nick into the doorframe, pinning him against that beautifully stable vertical surface that he'd been dreaming about. Fingers tightened in his hair to the point that it was almost painful, and someone was grabbing his ass, but it wasn't as teasing or unexpected as Christmas, and no one heard him complaining.

Nick slid a knee between Sam's, their bodies fit just that much closer together, just as he took an almost pained sounding breath and whispered a gentle stream of 'fuck' and 'harder' and many other things that you don't say to your friend.

Right then there were quite a few things going on that crossed the friend-line.

But no one was complaining about them either.

"Oh my god!" Dean's voice was as jarring as one of those tests of the emergency broadcasting system. "Get a room, you two. No one wants to see that first thing in the morning."

Except his big brother, who couldn't have chosen a worse time to finally come down stairs. Apparently he was complaining.

It was an odd feeling to hate someone while appreciating them with every fiber of your being.

Sam jumped away from Nick like he was a hot stove, trying to straighten his cloths and pretend that they hadn't just been doing exactly what it looked like they'd been doing. And if the two men weren't supposed to be dating then his reaction might have even made sense.

"Seriously. We talked about this. Not in the living room." Dean looked halfway between nauseous and amused. However Castiel at his side was wild-eyed with shock, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks.

"Sorry. Nick was just leaving. We were… saying goodbye." Sure they were. That's how everyone says goodbye, right?

Well, they should. It was a great and fairly memorable way to part.

"I don't care what you were doing. I just don't want to see it." Dean grabbed his coat from where it was slung over the back of the couch. "And just because I'm leaving right now doesn't mean you guys can keep going. Seriously." He shook his head at Sam, mock disappointment struggling to stay the dominant emotion. "The neighbors can see."

"Cassy?" Nick didn't seem to have heard any of what was going on, instead focusing on the fact that his brother was just standing at the base of the stairs, looking very out of place (but dressed in his own clothes, which Sam was very grateful for). "Why are you here?"

"Good morning, Nick." Castiel didn't seem all that bothered by his brother's abruptness, or at least he managed not to show it. "And hello again, Sam." A knowing tone creeping in.

And he knew.

Oh good lord. He knew that the whole thing was a lie. Sam had told him yesterday- and now, less than twenty-four hours later he was getting caught necking. What was Castiel supposed to think? That Sam had taken his advice? That he'd told Nick.

It would certainly be a good excuse if it were true.

Too bad.

Not that Nick probably didn't have a really good idea at this point that Sam wanted him.

But he had known since the first kiss (not the one on Christmas, no one was going to count Christmas at this point), and now, only a week later, Nick had a completely different reaction to roughly the same interaction.

So what the hell was going on?

He hadn't exactly discouraged Sam.

With the confusing cloud of lust fading just as quickly as it had come, the young man was left with a lot of questions.

Was Nick just going along with it out of… kindness? That didn't seem like something that anyone would do- not even Nick. You don't neck in open doorways just because you feel bad for your friend and his pathetic little crush. You don't moan like that.

Or maybe he was just that great of an actor. Sam's back had been to the house and Nick had a clear view of the stairs. He could have just been playing around for the sake of upsetting Dean.

But that seemed too mean.

Didn't it?

Sam had been about one more moan away from starting to see what sort of friction he could find between his and Nick's hips.

And it wasn't just Sam who'd gotten completely caught up in those few rough, tenuous seconds.

It couldn't be just him.

Please, if there was any kind of mercy to the universe, his friend had felt something too.

But that hope was competing with the conversation that they'd had last night.

Sam's head hurt.

He risked a look at Nick and all he saw was a man who looked worried for the sort of trouble that his little brother had gotten himself into. No embarrassment. No lustful haze in his eyes. Just worry and anger mixing as he looked from Castiel to Dean, thoughts forming visibly across his face and in the clenching of his fists. Bad, dangerous thoughts.

Even as dangerous as a protective older brother might be (Sam knew those lengths from personal experience) it was an opportunity to latch on to something other than the set of stunning bruises on Nick's throat. Sam leapt at the chance.

"How were the movies last night?"

And Cas smiled. First at Sam, then at Dean, then at the floor, Nick, floor again. "The first one was very exciting. Not very believable, but there were lots of explosions and at least four car chases."

Despite being only half brothers there were definitely a few hard to miss similarities between Castiel and Nick, but the older brother was never this good at looking this adorable. Nick was like a grumpy bulldog- and if they were going to use dog analogies then that made Cas a corgi puppy or something equally small and awkward and alarmingly cute.

"How was the second movie?" Sam couldn't help himself.

Castiel turned bright red, all the way up to his ears. "I don't know... I didn't get a chance to see most of it."

Sam turned slowly back to his brother, eyes wide with the unspoken question.

Without an ounce of guilt, Dean just shrugged and turned to Castiel, grinning. "Come on, I'll give you a ride back to your car." He didn't even allow Sam to put in his two cents on this development before he hustled his boyfriend(?) out the door. "See you tonight, Sammy. Nick." Little nod to the murderous blonde looming in the still wide open doorway, and then they were getting into the Impala and leaving.

"How mad would you be if I killed him?" Nick was the first to finally speak.

"It's not that bad." Which was a lie. "I don't think they actually did anything other than go to the movies." Which was an even bigger lie- but Sam was sort of attached to his brother and honestly wasn't sure who would win in a fight.

"He said they were going to the drive-ins, but I didn't think they would actually-" more fist clenching and a bit of audible teeth grinding. "If he touched my Cassy I swear I'll skin him alive with a butter knife."

"They're both adults." Sam reminded. "And if anything at all happened than it isn't any worse than what we've been telling them we've been up to for months."

"But you're not a virgin and Castiel is- or at least he better still be, because he deserves a hell of a lot better than his first time being with your fucking brother in the backseat of that car."

Sam didn't think it was wise to comment that that was actually pretty much how he'd lost his own virginity (you know, except for trading Dean out for that cute, slightly older girl from school). He also didn't think it would end well if he tried to get clarification, because he was almost certain that Castiel was older than him, and how do you get to your mid twenties and still have never…

And then Sam was getting a bit mad at Dean too. His big brother lacked certain levels of tack, and good sense, but at the same time, that actually seemed like something that he would do. Except not with a guy. Sam had just never imagined that he'd find himself in this particularly confusing crossroads of brotherly-ambiguous sexuality.

The only comfort that he had was that Dean hadn't come down stairs and past them with anything even remotely resembling his usual postcoital swagger. Everything was probably still ok and platonic.

Maybe?

Hopefully.

"I'll talk to Dean, find out what happened." For the sake of his own sanity as well as his friend's.

Nick didn't look like he was listening though, just standing half on the porch, staring daggers at the empty driveway.

"I'll text you. Ok?"

Blinking like he was coming to the surface, Nick looked over at him. "Yeah." His frown went funny, nose wrinkling, teeth showing for a second. "Yeah. That's ok. I- Cassy was too calm for anything too exciting to have happened, right?"

"Right." Sam had absolutely no basis for comparison, but he agreed anyways.

"Right." Nick almost smiled, taking some comfort in Sam's confidence. "Ok. I've really got to get to work. I… um," an odd look crossed his face as he licked his lips. "We're still on for Valentine's Day, right?"

Sam froze.

"Ordering out, staying in." Nick gave a gentle reminder. "We can sit on the couch not cuddle, because we're men."

"Very straight men." Sam added on and they shared a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

He didn't get a kiss goodbye. Not on his cheek or any other part of his anatomy. Which was for the best because such gentle partings seemed to escalate a bit too quickly. Sam wasn't strong enough or brave enough to keep this going much longer. He was left to stand, leaning against the door, forehead pressed into the wood, laughing quietly while he felt like doing quite the opposite.

He just managed to get his newest breakdown under control with enough time left to get that much needed shower before running off to school.

Waiting for a crosswalk light to change he pulled out his phone and sent a simple and to the point text to his brother

-what the hell?

Three hours later, somewhere in the middle of Sam's sociology lecture his brother finally answered.

- he got scared at the movies. I told him he could stay over if he needed to. Dudes a real wuss when it comes to monster movies

Sam held his phone in his lap, grateful that it was a dark lecture hall and no one was paying much attention to what he was doing.

-he was wearing your clothes He didn't hesitate to point this out to his brother.

-for some reason he forgot to bring a change of pants to the movies with him Dean grumped.

Which was actually a pretty fair argument for why the man had been rocking Dean's boxers and favorite shirt.

-so he just slept over where the monsters couldn't find him? Nothing else?

Dean's answer didn't even take two seconds to get to Sam.

–the fuck do you mean nothing else?

There was an option of being delicate, but these last few weeks had been hard on Sam and he didn't feel like the effort, knowing full well that Dean wouldn't really be offended by a bit of bluntness anyways.

-you guys didn't have sex?

Dean didn't reply before class ended and Sam had to tuck his phone away to start his walk home. Shouldering his book bag and braving the cold February afternoon.

Sure, Sam was curious, but at the same time he realized that he hadn't been thinking clearly this morning. Or course Dean and Cas hadn't had sex. This was Dean after all and Dean wasn't dumb enough to do something like that. He was a hell of a lot stronger in his sexual orientation.

He checked his phone while waiting for the same crosswalk light to change and was greeted with a rather cheery reply to his question.

-the fuck is wrong with u?

-no

-we didn't have sex

-no one wants to have sex with Cas

Sam looked at those words, imagining the exact tone of outrage that Dean would use to go with his raging denial if they were having this conversation face to face.

-I don't know. I think he's kind of cute Sam wrote back, not because it held much truth, but because he needed to be an ass to his brother because it was a great distraction from everything else that had gone so very wrong so recently.

-no

That was all the answer that Dean gave and it was impossible to tell if it meant that Cas wasn't cute or if Sam simply wasn't allowed to think it.

The light changed and Sam started walking again, texting and doing his best to keep from wandering out into traffic.

Nick replied almost immediately to the good news. Ranting happily about his brother and his still fully intact chastity.

-cassy is a beautiful flower that shall not be plucked

- I would have killed dean

-slowly

- with a brick

Sam found himself grinning at his phone, despite the threat on his brother's life. There was just something so sweet about how protective Nick got over Castiel- and Sam found himself wondering if other people felt the same way when they saw him and Dean.

-I think he could take you

Some days Sam liked to make trouble- you know, just in case he hadn't done enough already.

-I'd like to see him try

He could imagine Nick's grumpy little frown, the way he would puff up his chest a bit.

Sam was having none of it.

- I think he did, and you both ended up in the Home Depot

-I mean hospital

Stupid auto correct.

-right. that time I helped him install some nice laminate flooring

-good times

Sam laughed again and let himself in the house. It was hard to like someone so much when they kept being such a smartass all the time. At the same time it was almost impossible not to have completely fallen for a man who always knew the exact right way to tease him.

He found himself standing in the doorway, not even able to formulate a proper response to the mocking. Right here, just a few hours ago, Sam had managed to do a very bad thing. Even as alone as he was now, no one to look at him, or say anything, or to cast unfair judgments on a young man who suffered from these horrible cravings for physical contact, Sam felt his whole face go red. Heat eating though him. Embarrassed at the mere memory.

The door got closed, his book bag thrown onto the couch, and he sank down beside it, looking at his phone, trying to figure out if he was supposed to apologize- or if this morning was just going to be like the kiss that they were supposed to pretend hadn't happened.

But how do you willfully forget something like that? It wasn't like Sam was capable of overlooking how Nick's whole body had gone tense against his, arching and writhing just enough to drive Sam practically over the edge. Friction and heat and eager little movements, and even if he wanted it to- that memory was not likely to leave him anytime soon.

He was getting hard just thinking about it.

It wasn't a problem he normally let himself have while in the waking hours because it tended to over complicate that whole 'not going to let myself get too attached to Nick because I have to let him go soon' master plan that he had devised for himself. So far he'd been failing rather miserably, but deliberately rubbing one off while thinking about the way Nick's breath had hitched as Sam dug his teeth in, certainly wasn't going to help anything.

Shaking just a bit, he pulled out some nonsexy law books and tried to focus on his homework in a stunning attempt at self preservation. And he was really getting into some awesome judicial code when his phone lit up and threw off his whole groove.

-work has been teasing me all day. Thanks to you no one believs I was sick they all think I was off on somekind of sexual bender

Sam looked long and hard at his phone, trying to decide if he should answer that one, and how.

Nick sent him a picture, long line of his neck exposed, collar of his tshirt pulled down to show off the trail of reddened bruises that Sam had given him.

-I'm so sorry

-I don't know what I was doing

When in doubt, apologize. It covered a multitude of sins.

-don't sorry me. It feels like being a teenager again I love it

-I want another one tomorrow

Sam realized that he couldn't win at this point.

By the time he got out of an impromptu emergency shower, foggy minded and warm, Dean had come home. Dinner was almost done, the whole house smelling so good that Sam's stomach immediately started growling, making itself known. But before Sam could sit down, before he could ask how work had been or even say hello, Dean was pointing a spatula at him with malicious intent.

"Cas told me about what you and Nick have been up to."

And that's what Sam got for trusting an accountant. A stunning panic attack, at being caught in the biggest lie that he'd ever told, left Sam weak kneed and rather grateful for the kitchen chair he gotten a hand on.

"I can explain." He forced out, wanting to stop the inevitable lecture that was about to take place.

"I already had it explained to me. Cas literally drew it out… on a napkin. I've got it in the glovebox, I can show you later. I just want to know what the hell you were thinking."

Sam sunk into his chair, pushing his hands through his hair and remembering how to breathe. He wasn't a little kid. It's not like he'd stolen some gum, or wrecked the car and now had to confess his sins to an adult that he respected. This was just his brother.

"It seemed like a good idea when we first started."

"Damn it, Sam. You know the costal roads are dangerous at night, and your boyfriend drives like a werewolf. You've told me, and Cas told me. Apparently he's already totaled two cars driving on those fucking winding roads, almost killed himself last time- so why the hell did you think it was a good idea to drive out to Pacifica in the middle of the night with him?"

Nick had never told Sam about any car accidents.

That was all that Sam could really think about at first. He'd known this man for three months, and no car accidents had come up at any point. Not a single mention of them. And it wasn't like they had to tell each other everything- hell, Sam literally had a lifetime of things that he hadn't shared with Nick so far, but it was almost surreal to hear facts like this coming from someone who wasn't supposed to know the man at all.

Then it hit him that Dean was talking about last night. About Sam running away from home and rolling around on the beach. That's what Cas had told him about- and how Cas knew about it was anyone's guess (though if Sam was a betting man he would put money on Nick).

Dean didn't know about all the fake dating.

Sam laughed in relief, which only earned him a rather stern look from his brother.

"We took the roads real slow." He promised through what sounded very much like giggling, only more masculine. "I don't think we went over fifty on the way back."

"You could have taken my car. Driven yourself." He sucked in a sharp breath. "If I wake up one morning and you're just gone and I have to find out days later that you died in the middle of nowhere because you ran off in the night with your boyfriend who can't fucking drive, I'm going to be so mad at you."

"So mad?"

"Won't even go to your funeral." He sniped before turning back to the stove. "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam said without thinking. It was just an impulse at this point. A plate of enchiladas clattered down beside his elbow. "T-thanks?"

"You're welcome." He said without a hint of hospitality. "Cas and me got into a fight this morning about you and your Nick. I had to defend your sorry ass, so you better start shaping up."

Sam watched his brother eating, but found his own hunger had suddenly left him. "What did Cas say?"

"That you and Nick are both complete idiots and you deserve each other. But I know you can do better, which begs the question, Sammy- why are you still with that assclown? Weren't you just telling me yesterday that you're 'looking for something different' out of this whole relationship, you big girl."

"I… we're getting together for Valentine's Day. I'm thinking of breaking it off then." Just keeping up appearances, that was Sam. When in doubt just stick to the plan, no matter how it made the panic in him roll.

"That's cold, Sammy." Dean waggled his fork at him.

"Are these chicken enchilada?" And when the plan got to be too painful, use aversion tactics.

"No. They aren't fucking chicken enchiladas. I am a man. I eat man food."

On a different day Sam might have smiled at that. Instead he ate quietly, pausing long enough to complement his brother on a fantastic dinner. Even if the meat was red meat, and they were supposed to be watching what they ate. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't all that important. Besides, Sam saying that they needed to eat healthy, and Dean agreeing to it and actually making healthy good were two different things.

Kind of like how agreeing to a platonic, complication free, fake relationship and actually being able to successfully have one were worlds apart.