"You're in a… really good mood today."
Nick looked over his shoulder, the little smile on his lips faltering, his soft humming tapering off. "I'm trying to cover the fact that I'm freaking. Is it working that well?"
Dinner was no need to freak out. "It's just spaghetti." Sam tried to talk his friend down.
When Nick had first offered to make dinner instead of ordering out, Sam had been thrilled. But apparently the only thing that Nick knew how to make was spaghetti. So he was a little less thrilled, and a little more just hungry- and that was ok.
"Did you want some help?"
"I wouldn't say no."
Ah, if only Sam knew how to make spaghetti. The sauce wasn't coming straight out of a can, there were a collection of ingredients and the kitchen had been rather daunting as soon as Sam took stock of that. Other than that whole: pasta goes in the hot water part- he really didn't know what to do. Dean had always done the cooking at home. Since they were kids. Maybe at some point Sam should have asked for lessons.
He got up off the couch and came to Nick's little kitchen, clumsily taking the spoon that was held out to him.
"Stir." Came the command- and Sam followed it.
This was their last night together. There had been no proper plans made for the how they were going to break this off. Both of them seemingly wanting to drag this out as long as possible. Make it as painful as they could. And Sam was in it wholeheartedly. He wanted every last twist of the knife. He wasn't masochistic, he was simply in too deep to find his way back out.
Nick's humming picked back up, too soft to really decipher the tune, as he fussed around with things on his side of the stove.
They'd seen each other two nights ago, had what Nick had called a 'real first date only three months too late'- and Sam hadn't known what to take from a title like that. But he didn't have to have strong opinions. They'd gone out to dinner at a fairly reasonable time and ended up staying until close, the servers shooting them dirty looks and pointedly and repeatedly cleaning the tables around them in hopes that they would get the hint. Two hours after that had found them still sitting in the parking lot outside the restaurant, fogging up the windows of the borrowed Impala while they spoke. Sam liked the bench seats, it let Nick stretch out long, their legs kind of tangled with how they sat facing each other, knees touching- and Dean would be pissed if he found out that they both had their shoes on the upholstery, but no one planned to tell him.
Although they'd started the night with intentions to catch a movie they never got around to it. In fact, other than a rather strange phone call to Gabriel that got put on speaker phone, that Sam found himself trying not to laugh his way though, it was a rather quiet and uneventful evening.
Sam had fallen in love with that night. And it was a little sad to realize this late in the game that apparently that's what he'd been looking for out of a relationship. Not romance or even great sex. He just wanted close, quiet conversations and shared laughter in dark spaces.
And he was thinking about that now while he stirred. That maybe that 'date' had been rather aptly named. Almost every night that they'd spent together had been roughly the same, but it took knowing it was about to end to realize how perfect it had been. To appreciate what he was getting ready to give up.
Would they be able to come back to it weeks from now when they had had proper time to get over their 'break up' and go back to being 'just friends'?
God, he hoped so.
He took a slow breath, trying to find a smile and remember that they weren't really going to have a fight tonight. They were only going to stop whatever this was. At least that had been the plan months ago. They hadn't really talked about it since the first night, and going off of those rather close and intimate accidents that they'd had recently, Sam wasn't sure where anything stood at this point.
"I talked to Cas last night." Nick interrupted Sam's train of thought, sort of letting his words hang there.
"Did he finally give you a straight answer on the movie adventure they had?" As the days went on Sam had come to realize that Dean had lied to him on some deep and concerning level.
"He's still having nightmares and I really hate your brother, how's that?"
Sam paused mid stir. "I thought Dean was joking about that whole scary movie thing."
"I wish." Nick sighed, leaning a hip against the stove. "I've had to call him every night since then and talk to him until he falls asleep- then again a few hours later when he wakes up in a panic."
"That should be entertaining to listen to tonight." He tried a little smile, not entirely sure how he should feel about Castiel's unusual reaction to something as simple as a horror movie.
"Nope. He told me not to worry about, he's going to be out all night and he's pretty sure he'll be ok."
Whereas it was good to hear that Cas had a date. He was a sweet (albeit rather strange) man and he deserved himself a nice young man or woman to keep him company- Sam had a rather unsettling feeling that that's not what tonight's plan called for.
Dean had been rather anxiously checking and double checking as to how long Sam planned to be gone tonight.
'You still wanna be a cold hearted bitch and break up with him on Valentine's Day of all days, at least have some dinner and one last fuck for the road, Sammy- and call me before you come home, you know, just in case I'm in the middle of something.' Had been his brother's final request before handing over the keys to the car.
In the middle of something.
Sam made a face with the sudden concern that Castiel might be the 'thing' that Dean planned to be in the middle of.
Eww.
He decided not to tell Nick about the other half of what might be going on, mostly for Dean's safety.
"Well, I hope he sleeps better tonight." Was all he felt comfortable adding.
"Me too. It's really hard to convince someone that there's not a demon doll hiding under their bed when you aren't there to check for them. It's just heresy and he has a hard time buying it." Nick turned off the fire under his pan and dumped the cooked sausage into Sam's pot. "Apparently he thinks I'm a bit of a liar and might just be trying to make him feel better."
"Aren't you?"
"Yes, but that's not the point." He tossed his spatula into the sink.
"What is the point?"
"I'm… I'm not really sure actually." He got a little frown between his eyes as he rubbed at his neck.
It needlessly drew Sam's eye to the fading bruises that's he'd been pointedly not looking at for the past half hour or so. Little spots of color on an otherwise perfect throat. He wondered how inappropriate it would be to ask if he could refresh them. But he knew the answer and so he kept his mouth shut and kept stirring.
Nick finally got out a box of pasta and tipped it over into a pot of water that had been boiling away on the back burner for some time. "Ok, toss the spoon, come wait with me. We've got nine minutes to kill."
Whatever would they do with nine whole minutes?
Nick tugged the spoon free from Sam's reluctant hands and in one easy movement he swept the younger man into a slow spin. One hand holding his, one at the small of his back and they sort of did a lazy box step around the kitchen.
"Nick, how much have you had to drink tonight?" Sam asked after his friend started humming again.
"Not a drop. I decided tonight I would perform without my usual safety net." And from this close Sam could see how clear the man's eyes were, could taste the whisky free breath against his lips.
Sam almost complained, or at very least really questioned why they were still doing a slow two step around the room- but before his mouth could go and ruin things, he realized he was enjoying this far too much.
"If I was a girl," he started slowly, letting the man get a little smile "Would you have taken me out dancing?" Of all the things that they'd talked about over the past few months, they'd never really touched on old relationships or past dates. The one or two mentions of Nick's ex had set Sam so on edge that he'd been wholly unwilling to press the subject and no one else had ever really come up.
"Dancing?" His eyes narrowed just a touch. "Do I look like the kind of guy who goes dancing?"
"Yesterday I would have said no, but now…"
"This is high school prom quality slow dancing, you can't hold it against me." He skipped a beat, their knees knocking and his hand fluttering for a moment down at the base of Sam's spine. "I haven't danced with anyone since I was sixteen."
"I don't think I have either." Sam smiled. "And I'm not really complaining, but why now, and why am I the girl?"
"Because you're the first person I've wanted to dance with since I was sixteen and I figured tomorrow wouldn't be a good day to ask. Also, I still buy the meals, that makes you still the girl. So I get to lead."
"Except you're cooking tonight, doesn't that kind of make you the girl?"
And Sam wasn't all that big on traditional gender roles. He was all for house dads raising kids and women holding good paying jobs, and whoever was best at cooking doing most of the work. But none of that factored into why Nick still insisted on holding doors open for him, or why he got to lead when they danced slowly around the small kitchen.
This wasn't a new argument between them.
Nick got a funny little frown and tightened his hold on Sam, catching him off guard long enough to lower him into a shallow dip. It was such a feeble attempt that the younger man couldn't help but laugh and kick one foot into the air for added effect.
"Tadah." Nick added with some half hearted flair before righting Sam and just standing far too close in that way he was so very good at.
"Would now be a bad time to tell you that the pot is boiling over?"
Nick glanced over at the stove and quickly released his dance partner, rushing over to rescue the spaghetti noodles, swearing at them the whole time like the pasta was intentionally being difficult.
"Should I set the table?" He needed something to do with himself before he took the few steps needed to press himself against his friend's back.
Nick gave his blessing and Sam was able to kill the last few minutes until the food was ready. Very quickly he realized that there was only one chair at the table and when he asked what happened to the other one Nick had looked just as confused. So they ate on the couch, plates in their laps, coffee table for their glasses of grape juice because apparently Nick had been serious about trying to get through tonight sober. A clear head seemed like a good plan so Sam didn't argue, despite the fact that he'd never been all that big on grape juice.
"We should have done this sooner." He sighed contently between bites.
"This is pretty much the only thing we've ever done since we met." Nick argued with a hint of a smile.
"We should have done it more often." He softly corrected himself. "I like the spaghetti."
"Did I do good?"
"You did good." Sam assured. Best dinner he'd had in a long time.
"Forever ago, after the divorce and the whole marines thing, I lived with Michael and Anna for a while. She was popping out babies and needed help around the house while Mike was at work. The only thing she was able to teach me to make was spaghetti… but let's face it, it's some damn good spaghetti."
"I like how you never brag."
"I know, right? I'm just so modest… and handsome. And good at… things."
"Things?"
"Tons of things." His knee bumped into Sam's in the same familiar way that they'd been doing for so long.
Sam grinned, because there was no forthcoming list of this man's talents. They both just sat smiling at each other, which seemed to drive the non-list home that much clearer.
Things indeed.
Nick set down his fork, and used his now free hand to help him speak better. Odd little points and gestures. "Now, I got to tell you, 'cuz you seem like you'd enjoy it- back when I lived with Anna, her oldest girl was a real picky eater, but she loved that stupid Lady and the Tramp movie. So I'd make her spaghetti and we'd eat it together like the dogs would."
"You shared the noodles?" Sam remembered the scene. It was too iconic not too. Though the idea of Nick eating with one of his nieces in such a cute way… it was too much. He started laughing.
"See. I knew you'd like it." Nick looked so proud of himself at having guessed right.
"It's sweet." By which he meant, 'you're sweet', except that's not the kind of thing that you tell someone like Nick.
"It would have been if she didn't always try an bite me. I'd have these little teeth marks on my nose for days at a time." He sounded so wistful for a moment- and Sam had to glance away.
If he kept looking at that quiet little smile he was bound to say something stupid.
But what difference did stupid make at this point in the game?
Simple answer? None.
It wouldn't make any difference.
"How are you this cute?" The word felt foreign, clumsy in his mouth.
It did the trick though and Nick puffed his chest up, all kinds of disgust and offence.
"I am not cute. How dare you."
"You let your niece bite your nose just so she would eat her dinner."
"I was hoping to nurture her basic cannibal instinct so that she could eventually grow up to kill and eat her father." Grump. Grump. Grump.
"You're a good uncle."
Nick just pouted, trying to stay offended over the complement.
And Sam did his best not to laugh. It was harder than it should have been. "Here," he carefully fished one noodle free from his plate and held the end out to his sullen companion.
"Why?"
"I'm probably never going to have a niece willing to reenact Lady and the Tramp with me." His heart was suddenly hammering, and for no good reason in his opinion. He was not facing a firing squad, he was just trying to get Nick to smile. "Share one with me?"
Nick's lips did something funny. It wasn't the smile that Sam had been looking for. It was like the pout intensified, but quickly went a little crooked and then Nick was laughing. "Aw, Sammy, if you wanted a kiss all you had to do was say so."
He dropped the noodle back onto his plate, feeling his cheeks growing warm. "Shut up."
"You don't have to make up these elaborate plans, or even ask me. Just, at any point you're feeling it please, please, throw me down and make me your bitch."
His spaghetti plate got thunked down beside his untouched grape juice, Sam couldn't even look at his friend right now. Not sure if he would start laughing or if he would just take the man up on his ridiculous offer. And if he couldn't trust his own response it was time to change the subject. "I'm picking a movie."
A long suffering sigh came from the far side of the couch, but Sam knew enough to know that that meant 'all right'. He pulled out the little tablet and swung his legs up onto the couch, sitting sideways and leaning back against the arm.
"Blues Brothers?" He asked after a bit of Netflix browsing.
"Never seen it."
"Blasphemy." Sam glanced up and gave a startled laugh at the surprised look Nick was wearing at that proclamation. "Get over here you uncultured son of a bitch. Let me educate you." And it was a little rougher than he intended, and by the way Nick's eyebrows hitched, it was a little rougher than expected. But Nick came over all the same, pressing in beside Sam in that perfect movie watching way that they'd found weeks back.
Five minutes in Nick was rolling off the couch with a mumbled apology, wandering off to his room and coming back while settling his glasses into place. Sam swallowed a grin.
"Oh, shut up. I can't see a damn thing without them."
"You've never worn them before when we were watching movies…"
"You were watching. I was listening and admiring the blurry colors." He settled down again, back to Sam's chest, repositioning the tablet so he could see it better. "Oh my god, that's John Belushi."
Sam couldn't hold back any longer and he ended up laughing into Nick shoulder, which lead to sporadic chuckles for pretty much the rest of the movie. Incidentally he got elbowed quite a few times, and when he briefly stole Nick's glasses he was rewarded with a lot of annoyed grumbling.
"They're just for reading and computer stuff." He was leaned back as far as he could go, cheek brushing Sam's throat. "Give 'em back, you little brat."
"I'm not little."
"Yeah, yeah-" he tugged his glasses off Sam's face and perched them back on the end of his nose where they belonged. "I'm sure you're still little where it counts."
It was Sam's turn to elbow his friend, but being the big spoon in their movie watching sprawl gave him no good angle to do so. He settled for lightly tickling Nick's right side, fingers digging briefly into the man's last two ribs.
Nick made a horrifying noise and the tablet fell to the floor in the sudden struggle. Not really enough room to wrestle on the couch, but they managed, and to Sam's surprise he ended up pinned into the corner of the couch with a lot more man straddling him than he had intended. Arms pinned over his head at an awkward angle, back slightly bowed over the arm rest.
"Sam Fucking Winchester, you keep your damn hands to yourself."
Sam grinned, all teeth and no apology.
"I mean it. You are a god damned menace and I don't know why I ever let you in my house." He huffed.
"It is a mystery." Sam twisted his hands, testing the man's grip, but knew that he was kind of trapped down here.
"You going to behave?"
"Probably not." Sam was just being as honest as he knew how.
Nick sighed, shoulders relaxing, hands loosening. "God damned menace." He repeated softly, but Sam was in the right place to see the way his friend was trying to hide a smile.
Sam was reluctantly released and they settled back in, Nick stroking his tablet, making sure it was still ok before turning back on the movie. Every now and then he would gaze suspiciously over his shoulder up at Sam and frown. Whatever his intent was, it got Sam to laugh every time.
Eventually, as all things must, the movie ended.
Even the credit stopped, but neither of them said anything for quite some time. If it weren't for the way that Nick's fingers were restlessly picking at the seam in his jeans, Sam would have guessed that the man had fallen asleep.
Would it be wrong to just wrap his arms around this man and kiss any bit of skin he could get at and ask to stay the night?
Sam let his head fall back and his eyes close as he tried very hard to talk himself out of that plan.
Nick broke first. "So, we break up tonight." It wasn't a question, just a quiet whisper like the first line of a ghost story that promised to be absolutely terrifying.
"That's the plan."
"Why?"
"Does it really matter? People break up for the dumbest reasons." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll just tell Dean that we decided it wasn't working and I don't want to talk about it. He'll like that."
"He really doesn't like me, does he?"
"He fucking hates you." Sam agreed. "Thinks you're awful for me and he regrets ever introducing us."
Nick took a slow breath. "Well, I guess that part worked out like it was supposed to." He set the tablet on the table and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, all the while not looking up at Sam. "You think he's going to lay off trying to hook you up with random ladies for a while?"
"Oh, if he does try I'll just start talking about you and sighing a lot."
That almost got a laugh out of Nick, soft little puff as his breath caught. "At least you've got a plan." He got to his feet, kind of stretching and rubbing his face. Glasses were tossed down beside the tablet and when he finally turned so that Sam could actually see his face, he looked more tired than anything else.
"Still friends though, right?" Sam put his feet on the floor, feeling small all the way down here while Nick was looming over him. "I mean, we can still text- and in a few weeks or whatever we can start hanging out again- tell everyone that we decided to try being friends again."
"Yeah." Nick smiled a tight smile. "Of course."
It was Sam's turn to stand, and he had no idea why this suddenly felt like a very real break up. Like when you promise to try and just be friends but it never works and weeks later you've deleted them from your cell phone and try your best to not think about them anymore.
"Thanks for dinner."
"Yeah, any time."
Sam wondered if there was possibly a way to make this anymore uncomfortably awkward. In a valiant attempt to seal the deal, he held out a hand to Nick. "Well, goodbye I guess?"
Nick seemed to consider this offering, quickly settling on some less than amiable emotion. "You know what? No."
"No?" Sam blinked wildly. No? Why no? No to what?
"Fuck this." Nick clarified.
"… fuck this?"
"Fuck the whole god damned thing. I thought I could go thought with it- but I can't. So fuck it. If you're leaving then I'm getting a goodbye kiss. I've earned it."
Sam's fingers flinched mid air and he dropped his hand quickly, trying to mask the nervous gesture. "Earned a kiss? Nick, I- I don't-"
"Look, I'm not going to end the most meaningful relationship of my life with a fucking handshake. Do you really think that, years from now, when you're all grown up with your perfect little wife, and two point three kids, and your white picket fence, that it's going to matter to you how we said goodbye tonight?"
Sam realized he was shaking but he wasn't at all sure why.
"Because it won't, Sam. We both know that this is The End. You're leaving and it's just… it's done. It ran its course, and it served its purpose and you could do a hell of a lot better than me in the friend, and boyfriend, category so you're not likely to be coming back around to-"
Sam was done.
Just done.
He wasn't going to listen to this god awful, self destructive bull shit anymore, and the nice thing about it was- he didn't have to. He simply reached out, took Nick by the shoulders, pulled him in, and smothered all those lies out of the man with a rough, quick kiss.
Nick looked up at him, eyes gone wide, shock mixed with something that too closely resembled panic. Just frozen there like that.
"For once, can you please shut up," Sam begged, "and maybe just show me how much you're going to miss me instead?"
"…show you?" Like he didn't understand the words.
Sam threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "God damn it, Nick. Do you want your fucking goodbye kiss or not?"
"I… didn't think you were going to say yes."
Good god. Hope had really robbed him of his ability to read this situation. Sam felt like a fool.
Nick had just been teasing him again. Of course he was. Sam needed to leave. Like right now- while he still had the chance because he could only see things going downhill from this point. "I've- I need to go."
"I need you to stay."
But he really was shaking badly at this point. Crossing his arms over his chest to hide his hands. "I don't want to do this, Nick. It's not funny anymore."
"It's not even slightly funny." Nick agreed in a horse voice. "I- oh god. Alright, you know what? This would be a hell of a lot easier if I wasn't so damn sober." He ran a hand over his face and took a slow breath before speaking very fast. "Sam, I- I want to do bad things to you."
"You're already the worst thing that's ever happened to me- I don't see how you could make it worse at this point," he tried to say under his breath, but judging by the slightly pained look that passed over Nick, Sam was really doing a crap job at this. He wanted to apologize, but all he could to was stand there and feel horrified. He hadn't meant it. He really hadn't.
Nick just sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment and visibly collecting his thoughts. "This is… actually going pretty much the exact way I thought it would."
"You thought I would make a complete ass of myself by kissing you again." Great. At least he was predictable. He'd sort of hopped that his throbbing man-crush wasn't that obvious, but you know, he hadn't been all that good at hiding it lately.
"Jesus fucking Christ. No. I mean, I always kind of hoped you would, but I'm a realist and you're way out of my league and straight and… and… and why are you looking at me like that?"
Sam had no idea how he was looking at his friend, so he had no idea how to answer. All he knew was that the awkward advice that Castiel had given him a few days ago seemed remarkably less insane for a second.
Nick… he hoped that Sam would… that Sam would kiss him?
If this was another joke the bad timing was only slightly overshadowed by the incredibly bad taste.
"Nick," Sam felt a stunning swell of panic rising up inside his chest as he braced himself for the inevitable blow. "Do you want your goodbye kiss or not?" Soft repetition with all the frustration bled out- nothing left but an anemic, whispered request. Like lining himself up before a firing squad. Begging to get shot down this last time.
In lieu of an answer, Nick held both hands up to Sam, palms out in a calming gesture like you'd do to a horse you were expecting to suddenly bolt. It did the trick, if only because Sam was too terrified of what he'd just offered to even manage little things right now, like blinking, or inhaling. Turning and walking away had long been taken off the table.
Once he seemed certain that he had Sam's attention and undivided terror, Nick fit his hands briefly over the younger man's broad shoulders, his touch tentatively running up the sides of Sam's neck before lacing behind his head and drawing him down those insignificant inches that stood between them.
Sam's stomach tumbled, fingers tingling, head feeling hot. Not since his first attempt at this when he was fourteen had he been so terrified of kissing someone.
And they'd done this before.
Twice.
Three whole times, if anyone wanted to count the one from a few seconds ago.
But three times were nowhere near enough practice to approach with any level of confidence.
And this, this was how Nick was going to miss him? Ill at ease to the point that he couldn't even kiss Sam in joking anymore. It was all hesitant little touches and false starts.
Sam was half dead by the time he heard his own voice begging a very weak "please,"
Nick shivered rather notably before finally leaning in, lips brushing almost too lightly to actually be considered kisses even in the technical sense. But Sam closed his eyes and swallowed hard, tilting his head experimentally, lips parting in a hopeful invitation.
And that apparently killed every last pretense of hesitation because Nick was suddenly canting forward fast and a bolt of heat sang through Sam's body as he felt the man's teeth click against his.
Nick curled a fist through his hair and swallowed down Sam's ragged moan because Nick's hand was huge and firm and he could control Sam so easily like this. Anywhere he wanted him. God, just fucking anywhere.
Trembling like a caffeine addict, Sam took two fistfuls of Nick's shirt, somewhere along the man's sides, dragging their bodies together a little more forcefully than he intended- but at the same time nowhere near hard enough to merit a second thought beyond 'yes, good'.
In near silent agreement Nick grinned against his mouth, as sharp and as terrifying at it was stunning. He kissed Sam and kissed him and kissed him. Trading him for oxygen, fraying breaths between them strained and too fast to do much good.
Sam's heart was pounding against his ribs like a trapped animal. Starved kisses stolen from one another, forceful and ruthless enough to break a man's will and Sam knew he wasn't all that strong to begin with. They couldn't keep this going for much longer, not in an upright position at least.
Sam slid a shaking hand up the side of his friend's neck, and all he could think was 'oh god, what do I do now?' He'd honestly never planned for it to get this far. He didn't even let himself daydream this far. He always reeled in his imagination when one of them started to lean in, because this? It was wrong. It was too much. It was…
It…
It was actually kind of disgusting how much Sam wanted this.
Practically growling as Nick pulled away, Sam hissed a forceful ''no," or more like pleaded because pride wasn't factoring into things right now actually.
Nick pressed his forehead against Sam's, not opening his eyes, just taking long, forcibly slow breaths. "Sam?"
"NO."
"Sam, I um… I think this might be something we need to talk about."
He could have said 'no' again, but instead Sam bit at Nick's mouth, slicking his tongue along the back of the man's teeth. That distracted them both for a few moments that weren't even half long enough for Sam before Nick was stubbornly finding that terrible empty space between them once again.
"We can… we can put it off for a few more minutes I guess." Nick relented.
"We can put it off for a few hours if you think you can keep it up that long, old man."
Nick suddenly grinned at him again, vicious, eager, and hotter than fucking sin. Then he was pulling Sam back to the couch, sitting down and dragging the younger man with him.
Sam had one knee on the couch between Nick's legs, covering the man's body with his shadow, and Nick's eyes were in slits, biting his lower lip and tipping his jaw into Sam's hand. His skin hot to the touch, radiating heat, which was new and kind of thrilling.
For a long second Sam couldn't move any further, just staring down at his friend who had never looked as good as he did right now. Dark eyed, red, abused mouth, crooked little smile. Sudden unspoken promises laid out, eager and wanting- and how the hell long had they been on the same page about this?
Maybe they really should take a moment to talk about it.
But later was just as good as now for talking- better in fact, because Sam could think of at least five other things he'd like to be doing with his mouth right now, and Nick wasn't going anywhere.
The older man seemed to catch on to that slight hesitation, biting his lip again, murmuring, "Come on, come on," breathing unsteadily though his mouth.
And Sam couldn't possibly say no to that, because he'd be waiting for what suddenly felt like months and months. A giddy sensation welling up inside of him as he laughed airlessly, pressing his slick mouth to Nick's throat. Nick jerked, moaned, and Sam felt it like a minor electric shock. His fingers caught in the collar of Nick's shirt, licking the taste from the hollow of this friend's collarbone.
This he knew. This he'd done once before and replayed over in his mind on loop until it felt almost like second nature. He knew just where lay his teeth, where to leave his mark in flesh and bone.
Nick was panting, twisting his fingers in Sam's hair. His body arching into Sam's until the younger man gave in with a groan and sank down on top of him. And Sam knew without a doubt that this stupid, ugly couch was going to be where he would die tonight. It wasn't going to be inspiring, or romantic. It was just frantic. Borderline desperate, and you know what? It was kind of ok.
There would be more room if they could find the will and ability to take this to Nick's bed- but it didn't matter because room isn't what Sam wanted right now. It was this. Just this. It was the way that Nick's rough voice broke over his name. It was how they fit together like they were made for one another.
It didn't matter where they were, just that they were.
Despite either of their intentions, it was all going to be too quick, and they both seem to know it, shoving each other's shirts up but not off, notching together and rocking so tight and close. Nick hooked one leg around Sam's waist, wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders. His mouth dragging over Sam's earlobe and Sam shuddered beautifully.
He curled a hand over Nick's face and Nick gnawed at his thumb, movements made careless by the friction between them. Sam lifted his head to watch, open-mouthed and dumb.
"For fuck's sake." He breathed out.
Nick's teeth sparked across the pad of this thumb and Sam's hips ground down into his friend's automatically. Nick gasped, throwing his head back and letting Sam's thumb slip from his mouth- and Sam couldn't do anything but kiss him then.
Nick growled half formed promises and curses against his mouth, words that may not have even been in English at this point, because Sam was too far gone to make any real sense of them. He got the gist of it though, because if nothing else, he was panting against Nick in the same indecipherable code.
Sam felt bits of his mind chipping away, gone red behind his eyelids and somewhere way far away, he could hear himself begging Nick's name. It seemed to be the only word that his mouth still remembered how to make with any certainty, and even that was lost to him as he came down hard. All he had left was a spine bowing shiver of pleasure and then a great resounding nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
And it was more than alright.
What felt like an eternity later, though was probably only a minute at most, Sam found himself clinging to Nick, relearning how to breathe, feeling wonderful and weak as he rested against his friend's chest. Sam wasn't sure when he would be able to move again, his whole body buzzing and alive but too stunned to do anything about it.
That had been simultaneously the best and worst sex of his life- and he wished that he could summon up enough energy to laugh about it.
Nick's hand was tangled in his hair, lost up to the wrist, his arm shifting over Sam's shoulders as they rose and fell with each shallow, too fast breath. His voice came as a slow rumble, rolling though his chest like thunder and with Sam resting against him like he was the words were more felt than heard.
"That was…"
"Yeah." Sam whispered. Agreeing instantly to whatever sentiment there was. Because God yes.
"Wrong," he finished after another moment of quiet.
Oh
Oh
Sam's heart was suddenly up in his throat and he was shaking again, but for all the wrong reasons.
"Yeah." He repeated weakly, wavering as he pushed himself up so that he could move away. His internal mantra becoming a steady stream of fuck.
He threw his legs off the side of the couch, trying to find his bearings and the strength to answer the sudden need to leave.
Two arms encircled his waist and pulled him back against a sold chest, warm and hard. Comforting. Fuck. Sam let his shoulders hunch, because he didn't give a good god damn about his posture right then, all he wanted was to get away.
"I didn't mean it like that." Nick murmured against the side of his neck.
And Sam couldn't help but shiver at the feel of Nick's breath against his skin, rough lips along his pulse as he spoke. Tortuously slow, Sam turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Nick's face or any part of the man over his shoulder.
There was only a crash of blond hair and hunched shoulders, Nick's embrace was gentle, but determined. Nearly possessive.
It made Sam's chest clench tighter. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried to speak.
"I know." He forced out, aiming for sounding light and easy, but his voice cracked a little and it matched the feeling in his gut, so who was he to complain. "I mean, I- I get it. It's alright."
"Sam,"
"Be-cause you're right. This was wrong. We shouldn't have. We shouldn't-"
"That's not what I meant." He whispered so gently even as his hands fisted against Sam's sides. "Calm down and take a deep breath, Sam."
"Fuck you."
"I think you already did- at least a good solid attempt at it." Soft breath lightly stirring Sam's hair. "I'd give it an eight out of ten for effort."
"Don't." Was all he said, and if it counted for anything, Nick didn't. Not for a little while at least. Growing quiet and still, strong arms tight around Sam like a weighted anchor.
"I need to go home." Sam finally managed to get one solid thought together, his mind feeling crowded and unfamiliar.
"Do you want to go home, or need? Because I'm not kicking you out. If I get any say in the next few minutes I really, really want you to stay."
For some stupid reason Sam suddenly felt like crying.
"If you just need to get cleaned up, I'm thinking I need a shower too..."
"Nick, this isn't something that's going to be ok to joke about." Not right now, possibly not anytime ever.
"Joke? Who's joking? I'm sticky as fuck. It's kind of gross."
The need to cry quickly shifted to a laugh that was only mostly bitter.
Nick's fists relaxed a bit, his big hands splaying out, long fingers slating against the curve of Sam's ribs. "I've been thinking about this fake dating thing we've got going."
The laugh died on something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper and Sam hung his head.
"I mean, our brothers went for it, right? They've left us both alone and I think… I think it'd be a real shame to risk the whole blind date issue starting back up." Nick was hardly making any noise as he spoke, breathing the words in a ragged, broken kind of way. "I think the only good solution is that we just keep dating."
Sam's fingernails caught on the upholstery of the couch, his fingers digging in mercilessly.
"It makes sense, right?" Nick needed to know. Half begging for an answer.
Problem was, it made almost too much sense.
It felt like a trap.
"I don't want to keep fake dating you." Sam choked on the words.
"How would you feel about real dating me?"
His whole body felt like it was shutting down. Overloading. Critical systems simply stopping in hopes of self preservation.
"You wanna think about it at least… maybe in the shower… maybe with me in the shower with you?"
Sam managed to nod.
He nodded an awful lot.