Nick had done most of his growing up in San Francisco, with trips down to Santa Cruz with his brothers almost every weekend once they got their driver's license. Both cities' beaches were brimming with dirty hippies and beach bums, and there had never not been drift wood piled up and the burnt bones of old bonfires.

Apparently Pacifica was a bit different. The long moonlit stretch of san was pale and perfect, not so much as a single strand of seaweed in sight.

"Parks and Recs district sure does keep things tidy out here, don't they?" He mused as they passed under the pier, the last hope of finding something to light on fire and huddle around for warmth.

"Real inconsiderate of them." Sam agreed, his hand brushing Nick's.

But that wasn't allowed because physical contact right now was lible to break Nick and he would just pounce Sam and try to climb him or drag him down to the sand where worse things would inevitably happen between them.

He shoulder checked Sam, nudging the kid away, getting some room between them in the gentlest way that he knew how. And Sam was laughing in that easy way that he could sometimes, like nothing had ever been even halfway weird between them. Like this was exactly what they both had been hoping for and everything was as it should be.

"I don't know how I'm going to explain all this sand in my shoes when I get home."

Nick pushed his hands down deep in his pockets and kept walking, because otherwise he was going to go back to where Sam was leaning against one of the pylons and push him against it. It was just something about that voice and the dark- and this whole thing was a bad plan that he never should have had.

"You didn't tell your brother where you were going?" Just keep talking, it was safe.

"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' possibly explain why I've got sand in my shoes."

"Well." Nick hadn't really thought this one through, had he? "I guess when you put it like that…" his hesitating moment left him open and off guard for his earlier violence to be returned and Sam knocked him easily into the nearby waves. They weren't even ankle deep, but his boots sent up a spray of water and his jeans immediately grew cold and wet.

But he deserved this, and honestly, he wouldn't have not wanted Sam to retaliate. Laughing he stomped out of the water. "Oh my god. Sam Winchester, you are a monster."

"You started it." Sam was grinning as he darted away, keeping out of arm's reach.

And Nick was not the kind of person who could simply not chase after a moving target. Too many years babysitting his nieces and nephew. If it was running, you were running after it.

"Come back here." He demanded to the young man who had far too much of a head start.

"No thanks." And Sam shifted from a scamper to a full out run- or at least as much as he could manage in sand, which was no friend to quick movements.

For what it was worth, Nick managed to keep up for quite some time, but halfway back up the beach he realized that he wasn't going to be able to catch up. Not that he minded watching Sam's ass while he sprinted ahead, but he was running out of steam.

So he went for a normal tactic that always worked on his littlest niece. He simply stopped to catch his breath, and even when he heard Sam stop and ask if he was ok, Nick stayed bent over, hands on his knees, feeling his heart pounding. And sure enough, like it was scripted out, the nice young man who was so gentle and caring at times came over to check on him. He placed one hot hand on Nick's back, so careful and concerned, and Nick took that moment of weakness to tackle Sam.

They landed in a rolling tumble in the sand, fighting for dominance and Nick won- either because Sam let him, or because he was actually stronger, it was anyone's guess. Either way, Nick found himself pinning his friend by the shoulders, having to use his whole body to keep Sam in place.

"You won of a bitch." He panted breathlessly, still laughing, teeth flashing in a wild and wide grin.

"Did I win?"

"You cheated." Sam pouted, swallowing down his smile and doing a passable job at looking sullen.

"I didn't see any rules posted." Taunting like the brat that he actually was. "Can't cheat if there's no rules."

Sam arched up, twining his arms around Nick's neck, suddenly gripping him in a tight choke hold. "I could roll us both out into the water." He threatened as his voice dropped so low it was almost drowned in the sound of the waves.

Nick panicked. "You wouldn't." And he started fumbling for something safe to hold, hands slapping the sand and then Sam's chest and shoulders, little fistfuls of sweater.

"I wouldn't?" He sounded so surprised, eyebrows hitching up, mock innocence.

"No." He begged as gently and sensibly as he could. "You're not the kind of guy who would risk drowning himself just to prove a point." Mind you, Nick was- but he was betting his own safety that Sam wasn't.

"I'm not?" Those eyebrows went up just a hint more as he started rocking and tugging at Nick, experimental little movements that made their bodies shift against each other in interesting ways.

Nick found it suddenly very hard to focus on the goal at hand. That goal being not getting rolled into the nearby, and inevitably cold waves.

"No. Definitely not. You've got a kind face." He was rambling and he knew it. "Look at those dimples. Someone with dimples like that would never drag me out to sea." Mind you, Sam was more than welcome to drag him just about anywhere else. It was just that the dark waves looked so very wet.

Sam chuckled in a terrible new line of attack, relaxing under Nick and blowing hair from his own face. He smiled up at Nick so easily. Peaceful and happy and open and positively kissable. It reminded him of that scene in the Little Mermaid when the chick drags the prince onshore and they just lay there, gazing dumbly at one another. Maybe he just watched too many movies with his nieces, because somehow that little analogy had painted him as a redheaded teenage mermaid and that just wasn't ok.

And that beautiful boy under him was talking, but the only word that got through to Nick was 'coffee'.

"Coffee?"

"Coffee." He repeated back very slowly and carefully, his hands smoothing over Nick's shoulders in a way that was not the least bit helpful.

"Oh." Get it together, Nick. "Yeah, they've probably opened by now." And he laid there on Sam for a few second longer than was socially acceptable before climbing to his feet and offering his friend a hand up. He didn't let go of that hand though, not even when they left the sand and made their way down the sidewalk back to the coffee shop with it's now lit window.

Sam dragged him to a stop right outside the doors, using the glass to check his reflection, letting go of Nick and shaking sand from his hair. His reflection grinned at Nick, dark humor in his eyes. "I think I actually look worse than you for once."

"I feel like I should be offended by that."

"You should." He agreed with a wink.

A wink. For Christ's sake.

Nick's whole mind went pleasantly blank. Next thing he knew he was sitting on the curb beside Sam, their shoulders touching and they both had seaming paper cups of deliciousness. And hey, he had a muffin sitting in his lap, so that was good. Apparently even in a daze he was able to order himself a suitable breakfast.

"I think the tired is finally catching up with me." He confessed- even if he didn't believe it. He sipped at his coffee and tried to let the heat fill him and comfort him, and make him feel less like he was going crazy and that coming out here was one of the worst ideas that he'd had in a long time.

"I can drive us home."

"Stop trying to drive my car. She doesn't like you."

Sam snorted indelicately, knee crashing into Nick's as he sipped at his drink. "How does it feel driving about forty miles for a cup of coffee?"

"Totally fucking worth it. I would have gone for Monterey if I thought I could get you back in time for school."

"So considerate."

"My whole god damned life has been nothing other than considering you for weeks now. If I could find a way to get paid to do it I could quit my day job."

"You have high stalker potential, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Someone did tell me once while I was hiding in the bushes outside their window."

Sam chuckled into his coffee. "You cheated out on the beach by the way."

"I told you. It's not cheating. It's classic big brother diversion/sympathy tactics. Surely Dean's used them on you before."

"He has, and don't call me Shirley."

Nick swallowed some coffee down the wrong way and had to tuck his cup between his knees while he coughed and laughed. Old movie references made him happy, and apparently also gave him a drinking problem. He cleared his throat and looked over at Sam's shadowed silhouette beside him.

"Now little brothers, they cheat."

"We do not. Everything's fair in a brother brawl."

"No. When we were kids and he was losing, Gabriel was definitely a cheater. He'd start tickling."

"Tickling?" Sam hardly managed to get the word out through his laughter.

Nick found himself sighing at the memories. "He still does actually." Gabriel had kind of refused to grow up, and Nick could easily picture his brother, well into his fifties, still doing things like tying other people's shoe laces together, putting tacks on chairs, and chasing people (hopeful mostly his wife) around with crazy fingers., just like he had when they were kids.

"I'm trying to picture this and…" His eyes lit up. "I did get you once, but I just assumed it was because you were drunk."

And Nick had no memory of Sam ever doing anything nearly childish as trying to tickle him- but if he was drunk at the time then the little hole wasn't much of a surprise.

"So I'm a happy drunk." He tried to shrug it off, attempting to excuse any inappropriate behavior.

"You're a saucy drunk." Sam corrected, and Nick would just have to take his word for it.

He looked out at the eastern horizon, wondering if it was getting any lighter or if it was just his imagination. He didn't own a watch and there was no good way to tell how long they'd been rolling around in the sand before finally coming back up to get their breakfast.

"You also look tired."

"It's 'cus I am." No matter what time this part of the world had crept to, Nick could feel that he should have been in bed a while ago. He fought down a yawn and stretching his arms high over head, feeling his back arch pleasantly and his right shoulder popped just a bit.

Sam, darling that he was, reached over while Nick was vulnerable in mid stretch, and tickled along his side.

In the most masculine and well controlled way possible, Nick let out a sharp noise that sounded an awful lot like yip as he tucked his arms tightly to his chest and tried to skitter away. However, skittering was near impossible while sitting on the edge of the sidewalk and holding a half full cup of rather hot coffee between his knees.

"No." He managed to hiss, though he doubted that Sam could hear the protest over his laughter. "You're going to make me spill my coffee." Hot coffee in his lap was one of his least favorite things, and he didn't feel as if he should have to really explain that one. It should be common knowledge to all men everywhere.

"Here." Sam held a hand out, reaching expectantly for the little white cup.

"No." He found himself saying again, not wanting to hand over his only source of warmth.

Sam's fingers just waggled expectantly, and really, Nick wasn't exactly capable of telling the kid no to anything. He handed over the coffee and watched with apprehension as his cup, along with Sam's were set a few feet away from them where they would be safe.

Trusting in Sam turned out to be one of Nick's worse plans because apparently that coffee was the only thing keeping him safe from Sam's curious fingers.

A rather one sided tickle fight ensued- one sided because apparently Sam wasn't the slightest bit ticklish in return and Nick as really too tired to properly fight back. It did help him wake up and from somewhere he managed to summon up the strength to catch Sam's hands and pin them between their chests. While struggling to catch his breath be took note of the fact that Sam had come off the curb and was leaning against his knees, pressing close enough to ready a second wave of attack if he could only get his hands free.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a giggler?"

"I am a full grown man. I do not giggle."

Sam only grinned, all teeth and hardly restrained violence.

"You are a menace."

"I'm sleep deprived." He retaliated, eager grin still in place.

"You ready to go home?"

"I guess." But he was still crouched there, leaning his full weight against Nick's knees and the older man wanted nothing more than to let his legs fall open and let Sam fall against him. Honestly if it were practically anyone else Nick would have done just that- and then he would have kissed the grin right off that boy, and it would have been fantastic.

But this was Sam, and he wasn't allowed to kiss Sam. Not even if it was situationally appropriate. So, reluctantly, he let go of the kid's hands and watching Sam get up to his feet. And Sam was tall, taller even than Nick by a few inches, but he'd never really appreciated it until he was sitting down here and looking up at the six foot plus length of man.

He'd never wanted so badly to mouth someone around the belt.

Rather unsteadily he got to his feet, making nice, safe eye contact.

"Come on, darlin'. I'll take you home to that nice warm bed of yours." And despite how dubious that offer was, it was still a hell of a lot safer than saying even half the thoughts running through his mind.

The night was practically made of missed opportunities, and as Nick drove those winding roads slower than he'd ever taken them, he wondered how long he would be able to prolong the inevitable.

Maybe he should just take Cassy's advice. Tell Sam that little secret that had been eating him up for what felt like weeks. Really, what is the worst that could happen? Sam would get that tight lipped expression that meant 'I don't want to hurt your feelings' and he might say thank you or something else equally painful, before explaining that these months together had been fun, but he really just had never thought of Nick as anything more than a friend.

Or something possibly less specific.

It's not like he'd played that conversation over and over again in his mind far too many times recently. Until he'd reached the point that he felt like they'd actually had it and there was no point left to any of this.

Sam shifted in his seat, apparently he hadn't fallen asleep over there, he'd just been deceptively quiet for the past thirty miles or so.

"That kiss the other night…"

Wasn't there anything else left to talk about? Some topic that didn't make Nick feel like he'd been slowly going crazy, stuck in a horrible endless loop of sense memory, replaying every unhurried touch in painful technocolor.

"Hey, Mister College, we had a written agreement." At least a text, but that totally counted, right? "It never happened. And you'll only confuse things if you bring up something that never happened."

For his own sanity's sake, they really, really needed not to talk about that kiss. Much more of this and Nick was going to end up pulling off to the shoulder of the road and just confessing everything to Sam in the most convincing and physical way that he could until they were both breathless. Which was a lie. Despite how much he would absolutely love to just go for it, he knew that he would far more likely end up just hugging the steering wheel to his forehead and apologizing for his unwanted feelings until the sun came up.

"So," Sam whispered like they were in a confessional instead of a car. "Do you want to break up early?"

"What?" Is that- is that why Sam thought that Nick had asked him out tonight? "No. Fuck, Sam. I don't want to break up." Ever. Never ever. "I just wanted some god damned coffee." He felt like either yelling or crying at this point.

"Do you think I'm going to drive you out to the middle of fucking nowhere to tell you that we've convinced out brothers well enough, but this little game's getting too weird and I want out?" Incidentally that was pretty much what he was expecting Sam to say to him any time now. "I could have done that over the phone." Which might be how they would have to break up next week, because he didn't think that he had the strength to do it face to face.

"Maybe you just wanted an isolated place to dump the body." Sam suggested softly.

It was such a delightfully insane suggestion that Nick found himself laughing. God, he really was going crazy, wasn't he? Maybe it was just the sleep deprivation though. A more comfortable and familiar scapegoat.

He'd be better in the morning.

He wished that he believed that.

This wasn't as easy as Castiel seemed to think it was. He couldn't just reach over, touch Sam's ass, and profess his undying affection. It would be awesome if he could- but no. Life wasn't like any of those hokey novels that he'd been reading. The devil couldn't just say 'I love you' and have that somehow not end badly.

Sam didn't say anything more, and the miles just got longer and quieter.

It was unfortunate that such a little kiss had said so much about what was going on between them. Nick was there, ass over teakettle in love with this stupid kid- and Sam was just enjoying the trick they were playing on their brothers.

"Look, we were both tired." What was he even saying? Just trying to explain it to himself at this point. To find some excuse that he could buy. "And it happened and I don't expect you to apologize- because I sure as hell don't plan to. 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."

The end.

Worst ending to the worst story he'd ever heard.

It was a shame that Nick had to be a main character instead of an innocent bystander.

From the corner of his eye he watched Sam press a hand to his mouth, eyebrows drawn tight as he took oddly unsteady breaths.

And Nick wished to God that he knew what that meant.

It wasn't the tired getting to him.

He really was going crazy, it was the only explanation for what he said next- his feeble attempt at following his brother's poor (but well meaning) advice.

"Look… I like you. I mean, obviously. That's how this whole mess got started." He laughed without any humor. "But you're my friend and…" and what? What Nick? There was nothing that he could possibly add to this to make it any better. "And I think for the sake of not fucking that up I'm going to stop talking right now."

This was what Cassy had wanted him to do tonight. Funny how it was going just about as well as Nick had anticipated. Which was to say it felt like torture.

He should have just kept his damn mouth shut and ridden out this last week in contended repression like he'd initially planned.

"Nick, even if it was for a stupid reason, I'm glad that I met you."

If you're going to be turned down, there were certainly worse ways for it to happen.

Despite everything else, Sam was happy that they'd met. As consolation prizes went, it was a pretty good one.

In the face of his crippling regret over this whole conversation, Nick tried one last time to say the words he didn't want to. "Would it be too weird if I told you that you're pretty much my favorite person?"

Sam didn't say anything right away, looking out the window instead as the moment between them grew a bit too… too much. It was just too much.

"No." He finally told his own reflection in the window. "I think I could be ok with that."

The next words spoken between them were as Nick pulled the car into the little driveway beside Dean's Impala.

"I'll see you."

"Come inside." They said at the same time and Nick's hands tightened around the steering wheel.

As he had been expecting to hear a rather final sounding goodbye, this request sort of threw him off.

"You're exhausted. I'm not sure how we even made it this far in one piece."

"I'm ok." He felt a little defensive, even though he also felt half dead. He hadn't finished his coffee, and really? It had to be almost five in the morning at this point. Sleep had become just a distant memory. A craving for a habit that he'd given up forever ago.

"Come inside." Sam said again, a bit more firmly, and he put a hand on Nick's arm, gentle weight, and it was more than enough. Such a simple anchor, and he couldn't have left at this point if he wanted to.

He followed Sam inside.

He followed Sam up the stairs.

He followed Sam to bed.

As consolation prizes went, this was also a pretty good one.