I kind of disappeared, didn't I? Sorry about that. Oh, one more thing: I was highly unsatisfied by the disjunction between the last two chapters, so I'm going to delete that whole 'it was a sick feeling' bit and put it, well, here. Old readers, I apologise. New readers, this is for you.

Sam woke up the next morning to the smell of something best described as tears of Jesus coming from his kitchen. Only half-awake when he rolled out of bed, he dragged himself out of his room, and only when he had blinked the sand out of his eyes did he fully comprehend what kind of blessed witchcraft was happening in his apartment.

"Are you even real?"

Flint smirked as he flipped more bacon (bacon that Sam knew he had never bought) onto a plate. Bones, tail wagging, looked over at Sam and barked a greeting at him, but didn't move from his strategic scrap-catching spot next to the Flint's leg.

"Sit," said Flint with a wink.

Happily, Sam obeyed him. So did Bones. "Need any help?" Sam offered.

Flint snorted a little too readily. "You just sit tight."

Sam gave Bones a pat on the head, all too eager to listen. It only took Flint a couple more minutes to be satisfied with his handiwork, and he was soon sitting across from Sam, the plate of bacon in the centre of the table.

"So, you got Fourth of July plans?" Flint asked as Sam shoveled a pile of bacon onto his plate.

He wrinkled his nose a little, glancing at the calendar. He'd forgotten how close it was to being July. "Not really," he answered. "I've never really celebrated it."

Flint's fork slipped out of his hand and clattered onto the table. Bones skittered over to his chair, sniffing the floor. "Dude. You've never celebrated Fourth of July?" he demanded like the idea was incomprehensible.

Sam shrugged. "Not really." He left out the part about how, with all the moving around and the drinking and the budgeting, he'd never gotten a chance to see fireworks. As far as he was concerned, Fourth of July was like every other night of the year, if you just replaced the gunshots with explosions.

"That's just wrong," Flint decided. "We have got to get you some fireworks."

Sam smiled awkwardly. "You don't have to-"

"Pfft, I didn't have to make you breakfast," Flint scoffed. "Think of it as a thank you."

"For what? You were the one who rescued me," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, but you were the one who gave me room and board and an interesting guy to have a conversation with," said Flint, then redirected his attention to the dog beside him. "Your dog sure likes to beg," he remarked. Bones gave him a typical Golden Retriever smile.

Sam frowned. "Hey, boy, come back here. Stop that," he said, patting his leg. Bones looked ruefully back at Flint, ears laid against his head, but returned to Sam's side and laid down.

"Pretty well-trained," Flint said, nodding. Sam smiled and they finished their food in peace. Sam pretended he didn't see when Flint slipped Bones a scrap as he was putting his plate in the dishwasher.

. . .

Flint fluttered around for the rest of the day making plans, and Sam happily let him. It was surreal to be sharing his apartment with someone again. He'd roomed with Gabriel back in their law school days to save money, but he and Gabe were so radically different that when the time had come to graduate, they'd parted ways without so much as a 'Need any help packing?'. Of course, things between the two were much easier now that Sam didn't have to deal with Gabriel's crumbs and Gabriel didn't have to deal with Sam's chore chart.

As if to prove that, Gabriel called later that day to ask if Sam wanted to grab a beer. Flint overheard, leaving Sam no choice but to invite him along; a decision he made reluctantly because, to be honest, he wasn't looking forward to telling Gabriel about his new (albeit temporary) situation with Flint. It was partly because it was definitely weird, some random stranger from Chicago picking him up out in the middle of nowhere and Sam instantly offering him a place to sleep; but it was mostly because he was afraid Gabriel was going to talk about Jess.

It was just as well, because Gabriel's first question the minute they met outside the bar was, "Hey, Samsquatch. Still heartbroken?"

Sam clenched his jaw.

"Heartbroken?" Flint repeated distractedly. He'd worn a long-sleeved shirt against Sam's advice, and was now shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, as if he could somehow stir up a cool breeze.

"Um, Gabriel-" Sam interjected hurriedly, but Gabriel didn't pay him any attention.

"Yeah, over Jessica," he clarified, then turned to Flint curiously. "Who's Tall, Dark, and Overheated?"

Sam made a face. "This is Sam Flint. He's, uh, new in town."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows and gave a jaunty smile. "Ri-i-i-ght. Well, come on, Samsquatch, lesser Samsquatch, times a-wastin'. Drinks are on me." With that, he turned and marched into the bar.

Sam and Flint followed. As they stepped through the doors, Flint licked his lips and glanced at Sam, who stiffened under his gaze. "Jessica? She your girlfriend?" he asked casually.

"Used to be," Sam said quickly, then cleared his throat to mask his haste. "We broke it off a few weeks ago," he said more slowly. He wasn't sure why he cared to explain. But he had a feeling it probably had something to do with exactly how green Flint's eyes were.

"Thought you wanted to head over to the library," Gabriel reminded him, checking his watch. "Don't they close at ten thirty?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Shit." He had wanted to do more research on his family's house fire all those years ago but he'd been so caught up in settling Flint in and trying not to be too curious about exactly what Flint was planning that he'd completely forgotten. He checked his own watch; it was ten.

He opened his mouth to say something to Gabriel about borrowing his car, but before he could speak, Gabriel slid off the stool. "Bathroom, be right back," he said.

Sam blinked after him, then sighed into his beer.

"You wanted to go to the library?" Flint asked from beside him. Sam jumped, having almost forgotten he was there.

"Uh, yeah."

"Shoulda said something. I've been there all day."

Sam did a double take. "Really?" After a moment, he cleared his throat, embarrassed.

Flint quirked his lip. "Hey, I read," he said defensively. "But I wasn't actually checking out any books this time." Sam prepared himself for a quip that involved the words 'checking out' and 'sexy librarian'. "Just doing a little research. I told you that I was adopted, right?"

Pleasantly surprised that no jokes had been made, Sam nodded.

"Well, I was looking for birth records. Any Sams born around 1980. I actually found you in there," Flint remarked, taking a sip of his drink. "Why'd you need to get to the library, anyway?"

A little jarred that Flint had been digging through his birth records, Sam had to collect himself for a moment to answer Flint's question. "I'm actually doing some research of my own," he said.

"Oh?" Flint prompted, letting his glass rest on the bar and turning more towards Sam. "About what?"

"Actually, my brother." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"You have a brother?"

"I used to."

Flint said quietly as Sam relayed the story to him - finding the birth certificate, trying to get over it with Jess, breaking up with her. Telling Flint didn't seem wrong. If anything, it felt like relief. It didn't free him or make it all better, but it managed to stitch together the raw wound somewhere in his chest. The stitches were strained and didn't make the two ends meet entirely, but they were there, and even if they hurt, it was a good kind of pain. The kind that kept you running even when you desperately wanted to stop.

It was a little awkward on Sam's part at first. He wondered if he was coming on too strong, revealing too much too early. He liked Flint, and he didn't want to scare him away talking about his shitty life. But Flint seemed happy enough to take another beer in lieu of an explanation of what happened to Sam's brother, and that was a minor miracle, one that Sam was happy enough to accept.

"You're just not a very happy person, are you?" was Flint's only comment. It made Sam shrug, and Flint sighed. "C'mon, Debbie Downer, let's go to the library. I think I can get us in after hours."