(no subject)
Supernatural/Smallville SLASH fic: Sam Winchester/Clark Kent
Not a hint of wincest in sight.
Title: To belong, if only for a moment
Author: Selena
Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester/Clark Kent
Rating: R
Word Count: 3285
Summary: Set Pre series, left alone for the weekend, Sam goes to check out College life.
Notes/Warnings: I am guilty of timeline fiddling and possible murder of (Smallville) canon (gee way to make it sound appealing)
Beta'd by the marvelous kayim
This was written as a 'just because' present for my darling charli_macboyd after she talked my ear off about her new OTP of emo. She puts up with some hella shit from me and I hope she knows that I adore her like whoa!
To belong, if only for a moment
Stanford had always been his first choice. He wasn’t sure why, it’s not like it had anything to do with geography. He longed to get as far away from this abnormal life that his father had cultivated for them as possible. But no matter where he went, at some point Dad and Dean were going to pass by, pass through, pass over. So it’s not like he could really get away from them.
They had stopped in Palo Alto a few years ago, it wasn’t even for a hunt, it was just a much needed rest.
Sam had loved it.
Plus they had one of the best law programs going; he had always been fascinated with the law. Dad knew a lot about it, how to get around it, how to work it to their advantage, and Dean had taught him well. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do when he went away to school, he was still weighing up his options. Hell, he was still working out how to tell his family.
That was going to be a fun conversation.
But even though his grades had always been just this side of excellent, he had managed to squeeze in some extra curriculars, much to Dad’s annoyance - and his own since he had to put up with some spectacular mocking from Dean. Given his unusual background, when he sent out the many applications, he wasn’t sure if he even stood a chance of getting in anywhere. He never thought that at the end he would have a choice.
Of course he chose Stanford, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t at least think of looking at some of the others.
*
A hunt had dragged them a hair's breadth from Kansas. Dad was twitchy and closed off, more than usual, and it was disconcerting to see him that way.
Sam had been racking his brain to think of an excuse to beg off this hunt. It seemed like a simple enough job. A simple two man job. Of course it was always the simple ones that ended up going horribly wrong. Sam never got a chance to present his case; Dad walked right up to him and gave him the special, curtly barked order to “Stay in the motel.”
As soon as the Impala had roared out of sight, Sam got on a bus.
*
Metropolis University was a huge and intimidating place, yet he slipped through the halls like he had been born there. On the surface, college looked a lot like high school, only bigger and faster. And even though he stood a head above almost everyone else, he didn’t stand out. If there was one thing he had learned it was to blend in, pretend like he was right where he was supposed to be.
Metropolis University, Met U. He kind of liked the way he sounded. He imagined himself in some Spring Break cliché, like in the movies he had caught Dean watching late at night. Maybe he would be talking to some pretty girl.
GIRL: So where do you go?
HIM: I go to Met U.
I go to Stanford.
Sam ghosted through the long hallways, skilfully side stepping around people who weren’t looking where they were going. Suddenly his attention was grabbed by some hooting and hollering that wasn’t quite coming from the direction he was heading, but somewhere off to the side. He turned to see a group of guys, jocks, all decked out in the university’s bright blue. He felt a stab of jealousy and then a slight twinge of terror as he was assaulted by the memory of trying out for one of his schools football team. The boy he had tackled had been able to walk again, eventually.
But despite the feeling of unease he got as the group screamed by him, he still felt drawn to the young man in the centre, and his radiant smile that seemed pasted on as his team mates slapped him on the back and dragged him through the mayhem of merriment.
To the untrained eye, this guy might have looked relaxed, though maybe a little shell shocked, but still relaxed. From a distance he looked like he fit. But a second closer look would give the tell-tale sign that he held himself awkwardly, like he was straining to hold something back.
As if he could feel someone watching him, the young man looked up. His perfect smile slipping slightly as they looked at each other. Then with a whoop and a cry, his friends spirited him away.
*
Sam was never really one for the party scene, save for a few abortive attempts to ‘fit in’ at his last high school. Or was it the one before that? His memories of the events were a little hazy, but he knew that all times ended with Dean having to drag his drunken ass back to wherever they were calling home at that point.
But that evening found him sat at the back of a strobe lit room, sipping a flat beer and watching College exist around him. Dad and Dean wouldn’t be back at the motel until much later, so he had at least a couple more hours. He was so caught up in the euphoria of people just assuming he belonged there that he didn’t want to leave quite yet.
The beer may have been bad, but it was strong. It let him build up enough of a buzz that it dulled his instincts, and it took him the longest time to realize that someone was staring at him. Sam was surrounded by heaving bodies that moved and pulsed in time to the music; the violently spinning lights cast strange shapes shadows on the wall, but through this chaos he could make out the outline of a lone someone, seemingly part of a larger group and yet still standing by himself. He though he felt a flash of recognition in the way that the outline held itself, but that could just have been the stirring in his stomach from the sudden need to vomit.
*
He sort of stumbled when he hit the fresh air of outside. Either he had underestimated the amount he’d had to drink, or there had been a little something added in to give it that extra kick. The oddly bitter chill cleared his head some, but the ground still seemed to be in a rush to meet him; he couldn’t quite count it as falling over, though, since he never made it all the way down. A strong hand curled around the collar of his jacket, he let out a strangled yelp of surprise as he was hauled upright.
The sudden lurch made him want to hurl again, but he swallowed that urge when he found himself faced with a bright smile and concerned eyes.
“Are you ok?”
“Uh, yeah.” Sam said, trying to regain something that resembled composure. His new found friend didn’t seem convinced.
“I saw you in there and you didn’t look ok. One of the guys I was with said someone was spiking the drinks and I thought….My name’s Clark by the way.”
Sam just blinked at the outstretched hand for a few moments before it sank in that stupefied silence didn’t really give the impression that he was fine.
“Sam…Winchester.” He said, feeling the familiar tug of guilt at introducing himself with his real name. He managed to briefly return Clark’s smile and handshake, and then he threw up.
*
If Sam had been a girl, he was pretty sure that Clark would be holding his hair back right about now. As it was, Clark hovered close by, seemingly reluctant to leave Sam by himself.
“Awww man.” Sam moaned. “It’s a good job my brother can’t see me now. I’d never live this down.”
“Feel better?” Clark asked, that smile never once letting up. Sam’s jaw ached in sympathy.
“Yeah, I think.” Sam rolled into a sitting position, bringing his knees up to his chest. Gently he rested his chin in the gap. What he really wanted to do was lie down and let the cool damp grass tickle the back of his neck, but the overly earnest look on Clark's face told Sam that Clark would probably call an ambulance if he did that. “You don’t have to stay here, really, I’m fine.”
Sam wanted to be mortified. All he wanted was one day of normalcy; he just wanted to blend in. He didn’t want or need to be babied by some cute college kid with a hero complex. Sam could handle his alcohol, he could. He was just off his game.
But Clark sat there, offering no judgements, no wuss, no wimp, he just smiled.
“It’s ok, I was leaving anyway.”
“You’re not going back to the party?”
“Nah, I was just sticking around to help a friend, but I can’t do any more tonight. What about you? You going back in?”
“Honestly, I am all partied out.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.”
Sam took the opportunity of the following silence to surreptitiously check out the young man next to him. Away from the rush of bodies that made up the crowd that surrounded him earlier, Clark looked different. He didn’t look like he was afraid he was going to break something, or someone. The slight hunch of his shoulders still made him look like he was carrying the weight of the world, though.
Yeah, Sam could relate to that.
“So is college everything you thought it would be?” Clark asked. “It’s kind of obvious you don’t go here.”
“Really?” Sam coughed in an attempt to cover the cracked squeak in his voice. “You’re not going to use the ‘Because I would have remembered seeing you around’ line are you?” Sam was only half joking.
Clark flushed slightly.
“No..I don’t know, when I saw you in the hallway this afternoon, you just stood out I guess.”
“Oh.” Sam said quietly, biting back the ‘But so did you’ that was dancing on the edge of his tongue. The conversation that would lead to was not the stuff of fun.
Now that his world had levelled off onto an even keel and he almost felt ready to try the walking thing again, Sam realized that despite having just emptied his stomach, he was still slightly drunk. All he wanted to do now was get as far away from Clark as possible, before he did something stupid.
Like try to give Clark a blow job.
He could hear Dean’s voice now, low in the back of his mind, incredulous and slightly disbelieving that Sam would even thing about doing such a thing.
“Dude, where do you get off picking up random strangers? You know better than that. I don’t care how good looking they were. . . You know what? You’re grounded.”
Ok maybe not that last part.
“That’s it, no hunting for a week.”
And he definitely wouldn’t say that. Sam let out a huff of laughter that threatened to become a snort, that threatened to become a sob, but he forcibly choked it back. He might well be on the fast track to crazy, but he was damned if he was going to let it out right now.
“You ok?” Clark asked again, and Sam briefly wondered how Clark managed to get into college in the first place because he was clearly anything but ok.
“I have to go.” Sam said, a little too quickly. Somehow he managed to defy the laws of gravity with the ability to stand up, albeit on shaky legs.
“Are you going to turn in to pumpkin?” Clark asked with such innocence that Sam couldn’t honestly tell if he was joking.
“Huh?” Sam mumbled, turning round.
“Midnight.” Clark said, holding up his wrist to show his watch, he grinned. There was a previously unseen deviousness to the wolfish smile that went straight to Sam’s dick and everything in him was telling him to ‘Leave, Sam. Leave now!’ But Sam always did have a problem listening to people, even himself. He took a deep breath.
“My family doesn’t know I’m here.”
“How exactly?”
“They don’t. They don’t know I’m here. They think I am somewhere…that’s…else.”
“Huh. They got something against Metropolis?”
Sam laughed miserably. “No, they have something against college. . . It’s complicated.” Sam added when he saw Clark’s look of confusion.
“Complicated? I understand complicated.”
From the slightly hopeful tone in Clark’s voice, Sam got the feeling that he would be believed. But just like always he fought down the urge to tell the truth, there was no sense in making someone feel bad just to make himself feel better. No one needed to know about the things that hid in the dark unless they had to. Clark really didn’t need to know and Sam was in no mood for a conversation full of half truths. So he just shrugged and reached a hand down to where Clark was still sitting.
“Trust me; you don’t want to hear about it.” Sam said, trying not to wince as Clark’s large hand wrapped around his and held tight as he pulled himself up. Damn, Clark had a hell of a grip. Standing toe to toe, Clark looked about the same height as Dean, which placed Sam at a few inches taller, a fact that pissed his older brother off no end. But Clark didn’t even seem phased.
“You ever think about playing basketball?”
“I don’t really have time for sports, it’s…”
“Complicated?”
“Something like that.”
They were so close, Sam bowed his head and his lips almost brushed the soft bangs of Clark’s hair.
Sam pulled away, his hand still hovering temptingly close to Clark’s shoulder.
“I really have to go now.” Sam said turning away. “Thanks for the, uh…” He smiled ruefully and blushed as he indicated at the ground where he almost fell. “And, hey, maybe I will run into you again next year, I promise you won’t have to catch me that time.” He felt a slight stab of guilt; he had no intention of ever coming back here. He wondered if Clark could tell that he was lying.
Clark just wrinkled his nose and shrugged.
“I’m not sure if I am going to go here yet.”
“Wait, I thought you…you don’t?”
“I was just checking the place out, like you. They want to offer me a football scholarship, the guys on the team are great…I don’t know. My Dad, he doesn’t want me to play football, it’s…”
“Complicated?”
“You could say that.” Clark flashed another winning smile, but this one didn’t reach his eyes, it looked stilted and out of place.
“Well, it was good to meet you Clark. I hope things get less complicated for you.”
“You too, Sam.”
Then Clark was gone. He turned around and walked away.
*
It was strange how things always looked darker after midnight. The shadows were always longer, more ominous. The simple noises made by the night were always louder, dangerous. Sam knew that the time had no actual meaning outside some archaic text books and the minds of young idiots who thought raising the dead would be a blast. It was as if people's perceptions had given the hour a life of its own. Sam shivered and pulled his coat tighter around him. He wasn’t really cold, he was just afraid of what he was about to do. He sat cross legged, leaning against the wall of the bus station that was empty save for the janitor who was whistling a mournful tune as he mopped the floor.
Sam held his cell in his hand. He had missed the last bus back and he was going to have to call Dean to come and get him. There was no way that Dean could come and get him without Dad finding out.
Sam was completely fucked.
He pulled out the packet of mints he had taken from the faded vending machine - after having to resort to punching the thing to make it give them up - and popped one into his mouth, which felt stale after the alcohol and subsequent puking.
“Need a lift?”, an all too cheery voice called. Startled, Sam looked up.
“Are you a professional white knight or something?” Sam asked, his voice laced with distrust when he saw Clark sitting in a tricked out 4x4.
“I guess, but then wouldn’t that make you the damsel in distress?”
Sam scowled and pushed him off the cold ground. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just passing, do you want a lift or not?”
“It would be really out of your way, but thanks.”
Clark shrugged, his pasted on smile was back. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.” That was a lie, but Sam guessed that Clark wanted to be at that other place about as much as Sam wanted to go back to the motel.
Sam looked at the phone in his hand and shudder. He stuffed it back in his pocket.
“Nice car.” He said as he climbed in.
“It’s not mine. I am just getting to check it out. One of these would be part of the incentive package to join Met U.”
“And you’re still only thinking about it?”
“It isn’t exactly all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Nothing ever is.”
*
It was slow and fumbling at first. Both were sure of what they were doing, they were just unsure of themselves.
They had been silent on the way to wherever they were, somewhere between here and there. Sam had stared out the window and watched the bright lights of the city as they slid by, until there were no more lights, just a country road and them. Clark brought the car to a stop. Sam thought he moved first, but he met Clark halfway. Lips, teeth and noses mashed together to make an awkward kiss. Sam pulled back, a nervous laugh caught in his throat. He was about to call this off as a bad idea - they were both too lost to find their way - when Clark’s hand ghosted over his crotch and his dick took over his thought process. His hand shook as he reached out to unzip Clark’s jeans. His fingers travelled up and under the plaid shirt that covered his target. Clark’s head fell back and hit the plush material of his seat as the weight of Sam’s hand and the slow click-click of the zipper massaged his erection.
Sam’s eyes widened when he saw the full length of Clark’s cock when it was released from his jeans. He licked his lips and took Clark as far into his mouth as he could, he tried to curl his lips around his teeth so that they wouldn’t scrape Clark’s shaft as he gently bobbed his head up and down. He paused briefly on the way up and flicked his tongue over and around the head of Clark’s dick. The quick action drew a gasp from Clark and the young man bucked his hips in an effort to get closer to Sam’s tongue.
Sam help Clark ride his orgasm and pulled away once Clark was spent. He had just sat back in his seat when his phone rang.
“Samuel Winchester,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “What part of stay in the motel didn’t you understand?”
Sam closed his eyes at the sound of his father’s voice, but snapped them open again when he felt Clark’s hand on his crotch. . .
Fin
Not a hint of wincest in sight.
Title: To belong, if only for a moment
Author: Selena
Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester/Clark Kent
Rating: R
Word Count: 3285
Summary: Set Pre series, left alone for the weekend, Sam goes to check out College life.
Notes/Warnings: I am guilty of timeline fiddling and possible murder of (Smallville) canon (gee way to make it sound appealing)
Beta'd by the marvelous kayim
This was written as a 'just because' present for my darling charli_macboyd after she talked my ear off about her new OTP of emo. She puts up with some hella shit from me and I hope she knows that I adore her like whoa!
To belong, if only for a moment
Stanford had always been his first choice. He wasn’t sure why, it’s not like it had anything to do with geography. He longed to get as far away from this abnormal life that his father had cultivated for them as possible. But no matter where he went, at some point Dad and Dean were going to pass by, pass through, pass over. So it’s not like he could really get away from them.
They had stopped in Palo Alto a few years ago, it wasn’t even for a hunt, it was just a much needed rest.
Sam had loved it.
Plus they had one of the best law programs going; he had always been fascinated with the law. Dad knew a lot about it, how to get around it, how to work it to their advantage, and Dean had taught him well. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do when he went away to school, he was still weighing up his options. Hell, he was still working out how to tell his family.
That was going to be a fun conversation.
But even though his grades had always been just this side of excellent, he had managed to squeeze in some extra curriculars, much to Dad’s annoyance - and his own since he had to put up with some spectacular mocking from Dean. Given his unusual background, when he sent out the many applications, he wasn’t sure if he even stood a chance of getting in anywhere. He never thought that at the end he would have a choice.
Of course he chose Stanford, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t at least think of looking at some of the others.
*
A hunt had dragged them a hair's breadth from Kansas. Dad was twitchy and closed off, more than usual, and it was disconcerting to see him that way.
Sam had been racking his brain to think of an excuse to beg off this hunt. It seemed like a simple enough job. A simple two man job. Of course it was always the simple ones that ended up going horribly wrong. Sam never got a chance to present his case; Dad walked right up to him and gave him the special, curtly barked order to “Stay in the motel.”
As soon as the Impala had roared out of sight, Sam got on a bus.
*
Metropolis University was a huge and intimidating place, yet he slipped through the halls like he had been born there. On the surface, college looked a lot like high school, only bigger and faster. And even though he stood a head above almost everyone else, he didn’t stand out. If there was one thing he had learned it was to blend in, pretend like he was right where he was supposed to be.
Metropolis University, Met U. He kind of liked the way he sounded. He imagined himself in some Spring Break cliché, like in the movies he had caught Dean watching late at night. Maybe he would be talking to some pretty girl.
GIRL: So where do you go?
HIM: I go to Met U.
I go to Stanford.
Sam ghosted through the long hallways, skilfully side stepping around people who weren’t looking where they were going. Suddenly his attention was grabbed by some hooting and hollering that wasn’t quite coming from the direction he was heading, but somewhere off to the side. He turned to see a group of guys, jocks, all decked out in the university’s bright blue. He felt a stab of jealousy and then a slight twinge of terror as he was assaulted by the memory of trying out for one of his schools football team. The boy he had tackled had been able to walk again, eventually.
But despite the feeling of unease he got as the group screamed by him, he still felt drawn to the young man in the centre, and his radiant smile that seemed pasted on as his team mates slapped him on the back and dragged him through the mayhem of merriment.
To the untrained eye, this guy might have looked relaxed, though maybe a little shell shocked, but still relaxed. From a distance he looked like he fit. But a second closer look would give the tell-tale sign that he held himself awkwardly, like he was straining to hold something back.
As if he could feel someone watching him, the young man looked up. His perfect smile slipping slightly as they looked at each other. Then with a whoop and a cry, his friends spirited him away.
*
Sam was never really one for the party scene, save for a few abortive attempts to ‘fit in’ at his last high school. Or was it the one before that? His memories of the events were a little hazy, but he knew that all times ended with Dean having to drag his drunken ass back to wherever they were calling home at that point.
But that evening found him sat at the back of a strobe lit room, sipping a flat beer and watching College exist around him. Dad and Dean wouldn’t be back at the motel until much later, so he had at least a couple more hours. He was so caught up in the euphoria of people just assuming he belonged there that he didn’t want to leave quite yet.
The beer may have been bad, but it was strong. It let him build up enough of a buzz that it dulled his instincts, and it took him the longest time to realize that someone was staring at him. Sam was surrounded by heaving bodies that moved and pulsed in time to the music; the violently spinning lights cast strange shapes shadows on the wall, but through this chaos he could make out the outline of a lone someone, seemingly part of a larger group and yet still standing by himself. He though he felt a flash of recognition in the way that the outline held itself, but that could just have been the stirring in his stomach from the sudden need to vomit.
*
He sort of stumbled when he hit the fresh air of outside. Either he had underestimated the amount he’d had to drink, or there had been a little something added in to give it that extra kick. The oddly bitter chill cleared his head some, but the ground still seemed to be in a rush to meet him; he couldn’t quite count it as falling over, though, since he never made it all the way down. A strong hand curled around the collar of his jacket, he let out a strangled yelp of surprise as he was hauled upright.
The sudden lurch made him want to hurl again, but he swallowed that urge when he found himself faced with a bright smile and concerned eyes.
“Are you ok?”
“Uh, yeah.” Sam said, trying to regain something that resembled composure. His new found friend didn’t seem convinced.
“I saw you in there and you didn’t look ok. One of the guys I was with said someone was spiking the drinks and I thought….My name’s Clark by the way.”
Sam just blinked at the outstretched hand for a few moments before it sank in that stupefied silence didn’t really give the impression that he was fine.
“Sam…Winchester.” He said, feeling the familiar tug of guilt at introducing himself with his real name. He managed to briefly return Clark’s smile and handshake, and then he threw up.
*
If Sam had been a girl, he was pretty sure that Clark would be holding his hair back right about now. As it was, Clark hovered close by, seemingly reluctant to leave Sam by himself.
“Awww man.” Sam moaned. “It’s a good job my brother can’t see me now. I’d never live this down.”
“Feel better?” Clark asked, that smile never once letting up. Sam’s jaw ached in sympathy.
“Yeah, I think.” Sam rolled into a sitting position, bringing his knees up to his chest. Gently he rested his chin in the gap. What he really wanted to do was lie down and let the cool damp grass tickle the back of his neck, but the overly earnest look on Clark's face told Sam that Clark would probably call an ambulance if he did that. “You don’t have to stay here, really, I’m fine.”
Sam wanted to be mortified. All he wanted was one day of normalcy; he just wanted to blend in. He didn’t want or need to be babied by some cute college kid with a hero complex. Sam could handle his alcohol, he could. He was just off his game.
But Clark sat there, offering no judgements, no wuss, no wimp, he just smiled.
“It’s ok, I was leaving anyway.”
“You’re not going back to the party?”
“Nah, I was just sticking around to help a friend, but I can’t do any more tonight. What about you? You going back in?”
“Honestly, I am all partied out.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.”
Sam took the opportunity of the following silence to surreptitiously check out the young man next to him. Away from the rush of bodies that made up the crowd that surrounded him earlier, Clark looked different. He didn’t look like he was afraid he was going to break something, or someone. The slight hunch of his shoulders still made him look like he was carrying the weight of the world, though.
Yeah, Sam could relate to that.
“So is college everything you thought it would be?” Clark asked. “It’s kind of obvious you don’t go here.”
“Really?” Sam coughed in an attempt to cover the cracked squeak in his voice. “You’re not going to use the ‘Because I would have remembered seeing you around’ line are you?” Sam was only half joking.
Clark flushed slightly.
“No..I don’t know, when I saw you in the hallway this afternoon, you just stood out I guess.”
“Oh.” Sam said quietly, biting back the ‘But so did you’ that was dancing on the edge of his tongue. The conversation that would lead to was not the stuff of fun.
Now that his world had levelled off onto an even keel and he almost felt ready to try the walking thing again, Sam realized that despite having just emptied his stomach, he was still slightly drunk. All he wanted to do now was get as far away from Clark as possible, before he did something stupid.
Like try to give Clark a blow job.
He could hear Dean’s voice now, low in the back of his mind, incredulous and slightly disbelieving that Sam would even thing about doing such a thing.
“Dude, where do you get off picking up random strangers? You know better than that. I don’t care how good looking they were. . . You know what? You’re grounded.”
Ok maybe not that last part.
“That’s it, no hunting for a week.”
And he definitely wouldn’t say that. Sam let out a huff of laughter that threatened to become a snort, that threatened to become a sob, but he forcibly choked it back. He might well be on the fast track to crazy, but he was damned if he was going to let it out right now.
“You ok?” Clark asked again, and Sam briefly wondered how Clark managed to get into college in the first place because he was clearly anything but ok.
“I have to go.” Sam said, a little too quickly. Somehow he managed to defy the laws of gravity with the ability to stand up, albeit on shaky legs.
“Are you going to turn in to pumpkin?” Clark asked with such innocence that Sam couldn’t honestly tell if he was joking.
“Huh?” Sam mumbled, turning round.
“Midnight.” Clark said, holding up his wrist to show his watch, he grinned. There was a previously unseen deviousness to the wolfish smile that went straight to Sam’s dick and everything in him was telling him to ‘Leave, Sam. Leave now!’ But Sam always did have a problem listening to people, even himself. He took a deep breath.
“My family doesn’t know I’m here.”
“How exactly?”
“They don’t. They don’t know I’m here. They think I am somewhere…that’s…else.”
“Huh. They got something against Metropolis?”
Sam laughed miserably. “No, they have something against college. . . It’s complicated.” Sam added when he saw Clark’s look of confusion.
“Complicated? I understand complicated.”
From the slightly hopeful tone in Clark’s voice, Sam got the feeling that he would be believed. But just like always he fought down the urge to tell the truth, there was no sense in making someone feel bad just to make himself feel better. No one needed to know about the things that hid in the dark unless they had to. Clark really didn’t need to know and Sam was in no mood for a conversation full of half truths. So he just shrugged and reached a hand down to where Clark was still sitting.
“Trust me; you don’t want to hear about it.” Sam said, trying not to wince as Clark’s large hand wrapped around his and held tight as he pulled himself up. Damn, Clark had a hell of a grip. Standing toe to toe, Clark looked about the same height as Dean, which placed Sam at a few inches taller, a fact that pissed his older brother off no end. But Clark didn’t even seem phased.
“You ever think about playing basketball?”
“I don’t really have time for sports, it’s…”
“Complicated?”
“Something like that.”
They were so close, Sam bowed his head and his lips almost brushed the soft bangs of Clark’s hair.
Sam pulled away, his hand still hovering temptingly close to Clark’s shoulder.
“I really have to go now.” Sam said turning away. “Thanks for the, uh…” He smiled ruefully and blushed as he indicated at the ground where he almost fell. “And, hey, maybe I will run into you again next year, I promise you won’t have to catch me that time.” He felt a slight stab of guilt; he had no intention of ever coming back here. He wondered if Clark could tell that he was lying.
Clark just wrinkled his nose and shrugged.
“I’m not sure if I am going to go here yet.”
“Wait, I thought you…you don’t?”
“I was just checking the place out, like you. They want to offer me a football scholarship, the guys on the team are great…I don’t know. My Dad, he doesn’t want me to play football, it’s…”
“Complicated?”
“You could say that.” Clark flashed another winning smile, but this one didn’t reach his eyes, it looked stilted and out of place.
“Well, it was good to meet you Clark. I hope things get less complicated for you.”
“You too, Sam.”
Then Clark was gone. He turned around and walked away.
*
It was strange how things always looked darker after midnight. The shadows were always longer, more ominous. The simple noises made by the night were always louder, dangerous. Sam knew that the time had no actual meaning outside some archaic text books and the minds of young idiots who thought raising the dead would be a blast. It was as if people's perceptions had given the hour a life of its own. Sam shivered and pulled his coat tighter around him. He wasn’t really cold, he was just afraid of what he was about to do. He sat cross legged, leaning against the wall of the bus station that was empty save for the janitor who was whistling a mournful tune as he mopped the floor.
Sam held his cell in his hand. He had missed the last bus back and he was going to have to call Dean to come and get him. There was no way that Dean could come and get him without Dad finding out.
Sam was completely fucked.
He pulled out the packet of mints he had taken from the faded vending machine - after having to resort to punching the thing to make it give them up - and popped one into his mouth, which felt stale after the alcohol and subsequent puking.
“Need a lift?”, an all too cheery voice called. Startled, Sam looked up.
“Are you a professional white knight or something?” Sam asked, his voice laced with distrust when he saw Clark sitting in a tricked out 4x4.
“I guess, but then wouldn’t that make you the damsel in distress?”
Sam scowled and pushed him off the cold ground. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just passing, do you want a lift or not?”
“It would be really out of your way, but thanks.”
Clark shrugged, his pasted on smile was back. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.” That was a lie, but Sam guessed that Clark wanted to be at that other place about as much as Sam wanted to go back to the motel.
Sam looked at the phone in his hand and shudder. He stuffed it back in his pocket.
“Nice car.” He said as he climbed in.
“It’s not mine. I am just getting to check it out. One of these would be part of the incentive package to join Met U.”
“And you’re still only thinking about it?”
“It isn’t exactly all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Nothing ever is.”
*
It was slow and fumbling at first. Both were sure of what they were doing, they were just unsure of themselves.
They had been silent on the way to wherever they were, somewhere between here and there. Sam had stared out the window and watched the bright lights of the city as they slid by, until there were no more lights, just a country road and them. Clark brought the car to a stop. Sam thought he moved first, but he met Clark halfway. Lips, teeth and noses mashed together to make an awkward kiss. Sam pulled back, a nervous laugh caught in his throat. He was about to call this off as a bad idea - they were both too lost to find their way - when Clark’s hand ghosted over his crotch and his dick took over his thought process. His hand shook as he reached out to unzip Clark’s jeans. His fingers travelled up and under the plaid shirt that covered his target. Clark’s head fell back and hit the plush material of his seat as the weight of Sam’s hand and the slow click-click of the zipper massaged his erection.
Sam’s eyes widened when he saw the full length of Clark’s cock when it was released from his jeans. He licked his lips and took Clark as far into his mouth as he could, he tried to curl his lips around his teeth so that they wouldn’t scrape Clark’s shaft as he gently bobbed his head up and down. He paused briefly on the way up and flicked his tongue over and around the head of Clark’s dick. The quick action drew a gasp from Clark and the young man bucked his hips in an effort to get closer to Sam’s tongue.
Sam help Clark ride his orgasm and pulled away once Clark was spent. He had just sat back in his seat when his phone rang.
“Samuel Winchester,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “What part of stay in the motel didn’t you understand?”
Sam closed his eyes at the sound of his father’s voice, but snapped them open again when he felt Clark’s hand on his crotch. . .
Fin