Someone Else's Story 6/11
Title: Someone Else’s Story
Part: 6/? - Year Six
Author: Miss ‘Drea
Rating: NC-17 (probably, eventually)
Parings/Characters: Sam/Dean (eventually), Sam/Andy, Sam/Andy/Ansem, Sam/Jo, Sam/Ava, Sam/Cassie, Sam/Anna. Dean/Ruby, Dean/Jess, Dean/Lilith (Lily), Dean/Sarah, Dean/Madison, Dean/Crowley, Dean/Carmen. Bobby, John, Chuck, Castiel, Zachariah, Gabriel, Uriel.
Word Count: ~3000
Summary: AU - John gives the boys up for adoption, and at an early age Dean and Sam are separated then later adopted into two different families, in two different states. By a chance of Fate (whose name is Castiel) the two brothers find each other - Sam’s in 10th grade, the youngest in his class having skipped several grades, and Dean, also in 10th grade is his ‘penpal’. Dean thinks the whole thing is dumb, Sam’s just glad to have a friend.
WARNINGS: Many of these pictures are NSFW and should be viewed with care. Thanks. :D
HERE IS ANOTHER WARNING: This chapter may have a few triggers for people, there is mention of suicide, both the idealism and the application of. When you get to the Sketchbook entry where Sam says "Like a brother?" Skip the dialogue text below.
DEDICATION: For nightdancer666 for without whom this chapter would never be finished. If there are no chapters after this, because she's gone and offed me (as I used her picture for Claudia. If it makes her feel any better, blackcathollow is Sue Ellen and I'm Kate, personally.)
Master Post
Year Six
June 3rd 1999 - April 1st 2000
*
*
“Hello?”
Clears throat. “Hi, Sam.”
Surprise. “Dean. Hi.”
“So, we haven’t talked in a while.”
“Y-yeah. We, we really haven’t.”
Pause.
“Okay, so dude. If you being...you know...is all that was bothering you, I only have one thing to say.”
Quiet. “Yeah?”
“What, like I didn’t know?” Smiling.
“Y-you already knew?”
“Dude. You only ever talked about Andy and Ansem and never about girls. So look, whatever, okay? I’ll pretend you’re talking about women, and it’ll all be fine.”
Pause. “So you don’t...hate me?”
“Dude, I’m just relieved you’re not dying or some shit like that. That would way suck.”
“Yeah-yeah, it would.”
“Please, bitch. Give me some credit. You're gay, okay but don’t expect me to be butt buddies with you.”
Laughter. “Butt buddies? I seriously cannot believe you just said that.”
“I seriously just did, so get over it bitch!”
“Jerk.” Grinning. “So. Girls. You want to talk about them?”
“No way, dude. We all know girls will like you more than me.”
“So just keep me away from your girlfriends.”
Laughter. “Will do, Sammy.
*
*
“So, Sam. This is our last session, I’ve sent your file over to a colleague of mine at Stanford, so you can continue your sessions there.”
Smiling. “You know, when we started talking, Zak, I was really...really, really sure that I was going to hate you.”
“I’ve just one of those faces, my boy.” Laughing. “Her name is Riesel Anderson, and she’s very excited to meet you.”
“Riesel? That’s an interesting name.” Pondering. “So Dean...he called me, after I uh, you know, told him I was gay.”
Smiles. “I do hate to sound like a dick, Sam, but I believe the best response I could possibly come up with is Told You So.”
Rolls eyes. “Whatever, Zak. He and I talked and things are good.”
“So you know what your next course of action is then? Telling him you’re in love with him.”
Pulls a face. “I’ll skip that, thanks.”
“I was right before, you know.”
“Yeah, and its much easier to accept that your best friend’s a fag rather than your best friend’s a fag and in love with you.” Harsh laugh. “I’ll keep things the way they are, thanks much.”
Warmly. “You’ll figure it out Sam.” Pause. “You always do.”
“Thanks Zak. I’ll miss you. Do you want me to hate on this Riesel for a few weeks in solidarity?”
Laughs. “Nah, she’ll be good for you. And she’s a good friend. So be nice, young man.”
“I will, Dr. Webb. Thanks.”
Door closes.
Pause.
Phone rings.
“This is Zachariah.” Pause. “Yes, he’ll be leaving in a few days. As soon as he gets settled he’ll be making an appointment.” Pause. “That won’t be a problem, sir. He’s very pliant. Has been after years of my influence. You’ll get what you want.” Pause. “Riesel, sir. Riesel Anderson.” Pause. “Female, sir. It was the best I could do on short notice.” Pause. “Yes, Uriel. I understand.”
Clicks.
Quietly. “What have I done? What have I done?”
*
*
Door bell rings.
Door opens.
Squeal. “SAM! Holy Shit, Sam you’re here, and I thought I would never get to meet you in person and holy shit, you drove here, oh my god, your car is so cool, and Dean’s at work so I’ll give you-are you okay?”
Weakly. “Hi, Claudia. And no. Not really.”
“Wow, you look terrible. Sorry, that was tactless. Here, got a pen, I’ll give you the address to Dean’s work.”
Relief. “Thanks, Claud.”
“You best be coming home with him though, Mr. Hastings. Everyone else is going to want to meet you.”
Quietly. “Okay. Thanks.”
*
“Hi, Welcome to Mountain Top Records, anything I -Sammy!”
Waves. “Hi, Dean.”
“Are you ok-ahem. Hey Walter, I’m going to take my break, okay?”
Door opens. Hustling.
“Dean, I’m fine. I just...it’s been a rough...I’m going to coll...there was this guy...” Grunts. Sighs. “Have you heard of Matthew Shepard?”
Shakes head. “Should I have?”
“I can’t imagine so. He’s a murder victim from Laramie, Wyoming.” Quiet. “You don’t hate me right? I mean, I know we’ve been talking more, but like, you don’t want to...kill me...for being...what I am.”
“Shit, Sam. Did someone threaten you?”
“No, and answer my question please.”
Quietly. “No, Sammy. I don’t understand it, but I don’t hate you for it. Now, Jesus, would you just tell me what’s going on?”
“There was...it was on the news. This guy, little older than you. He was murdered, in...in Laramie, Wyoming. It was...they called it a hate crime. They beat him to death, so badly that he died...tied to a fence in some back field.” Breathing hitches. “I didn’t know him, but when they caught, caught the guys who did it, they said it was because he was a fag. Dean, it was so bad, they didn’t even release pictures.”
“Oh shit, Sam.” Rough embrace. “No one’s threatened you, though, right?”
Shakes head. “No. But so many people, in, in town, they’re acting like this poor guy deserved it. I was leaving in a week to go to Stanford, so I just left early. Came here instead.”
“Shit, I’m glad you did. Jesus, dude.” Another hug. “Look, why don’t you hang around here. Lucky and the others will be around later. You can sit with them, and when my shift is over, you can give me a ride home.”
Blinks. “So you just want me for the ride?” Deadpan.
“What?! Dude, no!”
Laughter.
*
*
“Hi, is this Riesel Anderson?” Bites lip. “My name is Samuel W-Hastings, my former therapist Zak Webb, he referred me to you?”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Hastings. I have your referral right here. Dr. Webb said that you were showing great progress in your years of therapy with him, yes?”
“Y-Yeah, I guess so. I mean, things got better.”
Low laughter. “People rarely get better Mr. Hastings. I’m looking forward to seeing you. When will you be in Palo Alto?”
“Um, I left a little earlier than expected. I’ve been staying with a friend in Colorado, so I’ll be here for four more days, before heading to California on my own.”
“So that would be...Tuesday?”
“Yeah. Classes start on, I think the 7th, so I figured I’d go in on the 9th, which is a Friday, which would give me time to settle in to Dorm and start getting books and stuff.”
“That sounds perfect, Mr. Hastings. Friday the 9th, at 4:00PM, do you think?”
“That’s great, Dr. Anderson. I’ll see you then.”
Clicks.
“I don’t think I’m going to like her as much as I liked Zak...” Whispering.
*
*
“Okay. Sam. Come sit with me.”
“What’s up, Claud?”
Somberly. “I have a very important question to ask you.”
Confused. “Uh, okay?”
“Are you in love with my brother?”
Pale. “No! God, Claudia what the hell kind of question is that?!”
Pause. Skeptical. “You’re lying.”
Crumpling. “Claudia, you cannot tell him. You just can’t. I’ve managed to keep it a secret this long but I can’t lose him.”
“Whoa, hey, Sam.” Quick hug. “I’m not going to tell him. Calm down.”
“Fuck, Claudia. He can’t know. He simply can’t.”
Dryly. “Considering as he’s straight...I get it.” Smiles. “Look, he’ll never figure it out until it smacks him in the face, so your secret is safe with me. But Sam? I think you should just tell him.”
Snorts. “God, that’s even worse. My therapist, you, everyone wants me to just tell Dean, but Claudia, it would kill me. It would kill our friendship, and that would kill me.”
“Give him some credit, please.”
Sighs. “He handled that I was gay pretty well. All things considered. But Claudia, he already told me that he doesn’t want me to...hit on him, or even talk about this stuff with him. Telling him, hi, PS, I’m in love with you...that wouldn’t go over very well.”
“I think you’d be surprised.”
“Claudia...do you know something I don’t?”
“No, not yet.”
“Not yet, how does that make any sense?”
“Go talk to him, Sam. You’ll be fine.”
*
*
“So you really have to go today?”
Smiling. “Dean...”
“Can’t you go tomorrow?” Whining.
“Not really. It’s a three day drive from here to Palo Alto and I can’t afford to waste time, I need to get into my dorm, unpack and make an appointment on Friday.”
Pouts. “That Dr. Anderson chick? Aren’t you like, cured?”
Bitter. “Suicidal people are never cured. They can only be okay for a little while.”
“Shit, Sammy. I hate it when you say that out loud.” Rough hug.
“Look, I’ll call you when I get there, okay? That way you’ll have my dorm number.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Hesitant. “Not like my parents offered. Or, you know. Andy. Ansem. Ava. Pam. None of them wanted to come. They’re all staying back in the Pitt. They’re all a little annoyed with me for wanting out.”
Indignant. “Well, then they’re idjits.”
“I’m sorry, I’m a what?” Laughing. “A...what?”
“An idjit! It’s like an idiot only sounds better. I dunno where I heard it before.”
Grinning. “Ah. So instead of sounding mean, you just sound pretentious.”
Swats. “Bitch.”
“Jerk.” Clears throat. “No, Dean. You don’t have to come with me.”
“You didn’t actually answer my question, Sammy. I know I don’t have to come with you but do you want me to? I could take a few days off work, we can go together, I can take the bus back.”
Slow sigh. “No, Dean. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Confused. “Why?”
“Dean. I’m gay. I’m gay and it’s 1999 and if you come to Palo Alto with me, everyone will think...” Trails off. “It’s just not a good idea.”
“Dude.” Solemn. “You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah. I know. But...that’s all you are.” Quick smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Sam, damn it!”
Door closes.
Car starts.
“FUCK!”
*
*
“Claudia?” Panting. Hitching breaths. “Claudia? I need Dean.”
“Sam? Are you okay?”
“Just...Just, Dean. Please?”
“Yeah. Yeah, hold on.”
Clicks.
“Sammy? Sam, what’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing. I just...I needed to talk to someone.”
“You don’t sound so good, man. What’s going on?”
“Things are really...really hard here. I mean the work isn’t that bad...but...” breaths hitching “I can’t...I had my first appointment with Dr. Anderson last night.”
“Dude.”
“Y-Yeah. She and I...didn’t work out so well. She’s awful Dean.”
“So what are you going to do, man?”
“Call Zak, I think. Let him know what’s going on. I just...” Slow breath out. “I needed to...Dean, you have no idea...”
“Hey, hey, Sammy. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t think so Dean, things are all different now.” Soft chuckle. “I should go. Sorry for freaking you out. I haven’t had a panic attack in years.”
“Call me before one happens again, okay? We’ll head it off.”
Smiles. “I will. Thank you, Dean.”
“Forget about it.”
Clicks.
*
*
“Good morning, Mr. Hastings. How was your week? Any progress on what we talked about last Friday?”
Flat look. “You mean when you informed me that it was high time to get over this phase of being gay?”
“It’s plain to see, Mr. Hastings, that in your struggle to find role models in your formative years, you latched onto Dean, someone who treated you as a normal person without regard to your intelligence, and sometimes those connections can be unhealthy. I don’t want to be one of those people who tells you that being gay is a mindset, but truly, Mr. Hastings, things are not as bad as you’re making them out to be.”
“No, it only feels like my entire world is ending.”
Smiles. “Sam, can I call you Sam? Maybe the most healthy thing for you to do would be to cut off ties with Dean immediately?”
“No.”
Surprised. “Well. That was...definite. Can I ask why?”
“I’m adopted, Dr. Anderson. I have no sisters or brothers. Everyone in my town has either known each other since birth or went to school with each other since everyone was in diapers. I worked and practically lived at an Artist store, and everything I ever did was to move past the label of being gay. The only person who helped me do that...is Dean. And you’re telling me I have to cut off all ties with him because I was unfortunate enough to fall in love with my best friend?” Scoffs. “Romance movies are made of people who fall in love with their best friends. I just happen to be male. So, no thank you. I will not be taking that advice, and I will be calling Dr. Webb to inform him of how terribly I’ve been treated here. Thank you, Dr. Anderson. For your overly expensive time.”
Door closes.
*
“Excuse me? Mr. Hastings?”
Pause. “Look, I’ve just had a really shitty time of it and I’d like to go home now.”
“Sorry. I’m Dr. Novak.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve only seen you twice, here. But if you ever need to talk...I’m here.” Small smile. “I also work on Campus, I’m the LGTB Activist Coordinator.”
“LGTB?”
“Lesbian-Gay-Transgendered-Bisexual.”
“How...did you know I was gay?”
Head tilt. “I have very good ears.” Offers hand. “Here’s my card. Call me anytime.”
Small smile. “Thanks, I will.”
*
*
Breathless. “Hello?”
“Sam?”
“Oh, shit. Hi, Jim. Sorry, just came in from a run, thought I was going to miss the phone.”
“Should I call back?”
“No, you’re fine. Hang on, let me get some water so I don’t sound like I’m dying.”
Pause.
“Sam?”
“Here.”
“The other members of our group were wondering if maybe we could convince you to do an art show.”
“Wait, seriously? They do realize I’m a law student and not an art major right?”
“I...don’t believe they care.”
“Oh. Then. Yes. Sure. What medium?”
“Any. And since it’ll be at the center of our sort of life, they want anything explicit or homosexual that you have. Some of the girls are a little more interested in this part of your art than they should be.”
Laughter. “Of course. I’ll do it. Just let me know when, where, and how many pieces to do.”
“And Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“How’s Dean?”
Laughs. “Good bye, Jimmy.”
*
*
“Yes, this is the Residence of Charleston, David and Crowley.”
“Um. You must be Alastair.”
Low chuckle. “Yes, may I ask who I’m speaking to?”
“This is Sam. Hastings. I’m phoning for Dean.”
Faint surprise. “Sam? Ahh...Sam. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. So you’re the voice that belongs to the name he called.”
Confusion. “Um, what?”
“Nothing, my dearest. Let me get Dean for you.”
Rustling, muffled voices.
“Sam!” Pause. “I told you he was annoying.”
“He seemed nice, actually.” Absently. “And he sounds kind of hot, if you want my opinion.”
“Dude!”
Laughs. “What? English accents are hot. It’s just the truth.”
“Jesus, Sammy. Ever heard of TMI? Ugh. So hanging up on you now.”
“Hey, before you go.”
“If this is another thing about Crowley being hot, I’m still hanging up on you.”
Snort. “No! Just, sorry I missed your birthday man.”
“Dude, you’re like a month too late.”
“Shut up. You know how hard Law school is? Especially when you’re 19? Suck it.”
Blush. “Good-bye Sam.”
“Night, Dean.”
Click.
*
*End
TBC: Year Seven
May 13th 2000 - January 1st 2001
Part: 6/? - Year Six
Author: Miss ‘Drea
Rating: NC-17 (probably, eventually)
Parings/Characters: Sam/Dean (eventually), Sam/Andy, Sam/Andy/Ansem, Sam/Jo, Sam/Ava, Sam/Cassie, Sam/Anna. Dean/Ruby, Dean/Jess, Dean/Lilith (Lily), Dean/Sarah, Dean/Madison, Dean/Crowley, Dean/Carmen. Bobby, John, Chuck, Castiel, Zachariah, Gabriel, Uriel.
Word Count: ~3000
Summary: AU - John gives the boys up for adoption, and at an early age Dean and Sam are separated then later adopted into two different families, in two different states. By a chance of Fate (whose name is Castiel) the two brothers find each other - Sam’s in 10th grade, the youngest in his class having skipped several grades, and Dean, also in 10th grade is his ‘penpal’. Dean thinks the whole thing is dumb, Sam’s just glad to have a friend.
WARNINGS: Many of these pictures are NSFW and should be viewed with care. Thanks. :D
HERE IS ANOTHER WARNING: This chapter may have a few triggers for people, there is mention of suicide, both the idealism and the application of. When you get to the Sketchbook entry where Sam says "Like a brother?" Skip the dialogue text below.
DEDICATION: For nightdancer666 for without whom this chapter would never be finished. If there are no chapters after this, because she's gone and offed me (as I used her picture for Claudia. If it makes her feel any better, blackcathollow is Sue Ellen and I'm Kate, personally.)
Master Post
Year Six
June 3rd 1999 - April 1st 2000
*
*
“Hello?”
Clears throat. “Hi, Sam.”
Surprise. “Dean. Hi.”
“So, we haven’t talked in a while.”
“Y-yeah. We, we really haven’t.”
Pause.
“Okay, so dude. If you being...you know...is all that was bothering you, I only have one thing to say.”
Quiet. “Yeah?”
“What, like I didn’t know?” Smiling.
“Y-you already knew?”
“Dude. You only ever talked about Andy and Ansem and never about girls. So look, whatever, okay? I’ll pretend you’re talking about women, and it’ll all be fine.”
Pause. “So you don’t...hate me?”
“Dude, I’m just relieved you’re not dying or some shit like that. That would way suck.”
“Yeah-yeah, it would.”
“Please, bitch. Give me some credit. You're gay, okay but don’t expect me to be butt buddies with you.”
Laughter. “Butt buddies? I seriously cannot believe you just said that.”
“I seriously just did, so get over it bitch!”
“Jerk.” Grinning. “So. Girls. You want to talk about them?”
“No way, dude. We all know girls will like you more than me.”
“So just keep me away from your girlfriends.”
Laughter. “Will do, Sammy.
*
*
“So, Sam. This is our last session, I’ve sent your file over to a colleague of mine at Stanford, so you can continue your sessions there.”
Smiling. “You know, when we started talking, Zak, I was really...really, really sure that I was going to hate you.”
“I’ve just one of those faces, my boy.” Laughing. “Her name is Riesel Anderson, and she’s very excited to meet you.”
“Riesel? That’s an interesting name.” Pondering. “So Dean...he called me, after I uh, you know, told him I was gay.”
Smiles. “I do hate to sound like a dick, Sam, but I believe the best response I could possibly come up with is Told You So.”
Rolls eyes. “Whatever, Zak. He and I talked and things are good.”
“So you know what your next course of action is then? Telling him you’re in love with him.”
Pulls a face. “I’ll skip that, thanks.”
“I was right before, you know.”
“Yeah, and its much easier to accept that your best friend’s a fag rather than your best friend’s a fag and in love with you.” Harsh laugh. “I’ll keep things the way they are, thanks much.”
Warmly. “You’ll figure it out Sam.” Pause. “You always do.”
“Thanks Zak. I’ll miss you. Do you want me to hate on this Riesel for a few weeks in solidarity?”
Laughs. “Nah, she’ll be good for you. And she’s a good friend. So be nice, young man.”
“I will, Dr. Webb. Thanks.”
Door closes.
Pause.
Phone rings.
“This is Zachariah.” Pause. “Yes, he’ll be leaving in a few days. As soon as he gets settled he’ll be making an appointment.” Pause. “That won’t be a problem, sir. He’s very pliant. Has been after years of my influence. You’ll get what you want.” Pause. “Riesel, sir. Riesel Anderson.” Pause. “Female, sir. It was the best I could do on short notice.” Pause. “Yes, Uriel. I understand.”
Clicks.
Quietly. “What have I done? What have I done?”
*
*
Door bell rings.
Door opens.
Squeal. “SAM! Holy Shit, Sam you’re here, and I thought I would never get to meet you in person and holy shit, you drove here, oh my god, your car is so cool, and Dean’s at work so I’ll give you-are you okay?”
Weakly. “Hi, Claudia. And no. Not really.”
“Wow, you look terrible. Sorry, that was tactless. Here, got a pen, I’ll give you the address to Dean’s work.”
Relief. “Thanks, Claud.”
“You best be coming home with him though, Mr. Hastings. Everyone else is going to want to meet you.”
Quietly. “Okay. Thanks.”
*
“Hi, Welcome to Mountain Top Records, anything I -Sammy!”
Waves. “Hi, Dean.”
“Are you ok-ahem. Hey Walter, I’m going to take my break, okay?”
Door opens. Hustling.
“Dean, I’m fine. I just...it’s been a rough...I’m going to coll...there was this guy...” Grunts. Sighs. “Have you heard of Matthew Shepard?”
Shakes head. “Should I have?”
“I can’t imagine so. He’s a murder victim from Laramie, Wyoming.” Quiet. “You don’t hate me right? I mean, I know we’ve been talking more, but like, you don’t want to...kill me...for being...what I am.”
“Shit, Sam. Did someone threaten you?”
“No, and answer my question please.”
Quietly. “No, Sammy. I don’t understand it, but I don’t hate you for it. Now, Jesus, would you just tell me what’s going on?”
“There was...it was on the news. This guy, little older than you. He was murdered, in...in Laramie, Wyoming. It was...they called it a hate crime. They beat him to death, so badly that he died...tied to a fence in some back field.” Breathing hitches. “I didn’t know him, but when they caught, caught the guys who did it, they said it was because he was a fag. Dean, it was so bad, they didn’t even release pictures.”
“Oh shit, Sam.” Rough embrace. “No one’s threatened you, though, right?”
Shakes head. “No. But so many people, in, in town, they’re acting like this poor guy deserved it. I was leaving in a week to go to Stanford, so I just left early. Came here instead.”
“Shit, I’m glad you did. Jesus, dude.” Another hug. “Look, why don’t you hang around here. Lucky and the others will be around later. You can sit with them, and when my shift is over, you can give me a ride home.”
Blinks. “So you just want me for the ride?” Deadpan.
“What?! Dude, no!”
Laughter.
*
*
“Hi, is this Riesel Anderson?” Bites lip. “My name is Samuel W-Hastings, my former therapist Zak Webb, he referred me to you?”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Hastings. I have your referral right here. Dr. Webb said that you were showing great progress in your years of therapy with him, yes?”
“Y-Yeah, I guess so. I mean, things got better.”
Low laughter. “People rarely get better Mr. Hastings. I’m looking forward to seeing you. When will you be in Palo Alto?”
“Um, I left a little earlier than expected. I’ve been staying with a friend in Colorado, so I’ll be here for four more days, before heading to California on my own.”
“So that would be...Tuesday?”
“Yeah. Classes start on, I think the 7th, so I figured I’d go in on the 9th, which is a Friday, which would give me time to settle in to Dorm and start getting books and stuff.”
“That sounds perfect, Mr. Hastings. Friday the 9th, at 4:00PM, do you think?”
“That’s great, Dr. Anderson. I’ll see you then.”
Clicks.
“I don’t think I’m going to like her as much as I liked Zak...” Whispering.
*
*
“Okay. Sam. Come sit with me.”
“What’s up, Claud?”
Somberly. “I have a very important question to ask you.”
Confused. “Uh, okay?”
“Are you in love with my brother?”
Pale. “No! God, Claudia what the hell kind of question is that?!”
Pause. Skeptical. “You’re lying.”
Crumpling. “Claudia, you cannot tell him. You just can’t. I’ve managed to keep it a secret this long but I can’t lose him.”
“Whoa, hey, Sam.” Quick hug. “I’m not going to tell him. Calm down.”
“Fuck, Claudia. He can’t know. He simply can’t.”
Dryly. “Considering as he’s straight...I get it.” Smiles. “Look, he’ll never figure it out until it smacks him in the face, so your secret is safe with me. But Sam? I think you should just tell him.”
Snorts. “God, that’s even worse. My therapist, you, everyone wants me to just tell Dean, but Claudia, it would kill me. It would kill our friendship, and that would kill me.”
“Give him some credit, please.”
Sighs. “He handled that I was gay pretty well. All things considered. But Claudia, he already told me that he doesn’t want me to...hit on him, or even talk about this stuff with him. Telling him, hi, PS, I’m in love with you...that wouldn’t go over very well.”
“I think you’d be surprised.”
“Claudia...do you know something I don’t?”
“No, not yet.”
“Not yet, how does that make any sense?”
“Go talk to him, Sam. You’ll be fine.”
*
*
“So you really have to go today?”
Smiling. “Dean...”
“Can’t you go tomorrow?” Whining.
“Not really. It’s a three day drive from here to Palo Alto and I can’t afford to waste time, I need to get into my dorm, unpack and make an appointment on Friday.”
Pouts. “That Dr. Anderson chick? Aren’t you like, cured?”
Bitter. “Suicidal people are never cured. They can only be okay for a little while.”
“Shit, Sammy. I hate it when you say that out loud.” Rough hug.
“Look, I’ll call you when I get there, okay? That way you’ll have my dorm number.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Hesitant. “Not like my parents offered. Or, you know. Andy. Ansem. Ava. Pam. None of them wanted to come. They’re all staying back in the Pitt. They’re all a little annoyed with me for wanting out.”
Indignant. “Well, then they’re idjits.”
“I’m sorry, I’m a what?” Laughing. “A...what?”
“An idjit! It’s like an idiot only sounds better. I dunno where I heard it before.”
Grinning. “Ah. So instead of sounding mean, you just sound pretentious.”
Swats. “Bitch.”
“Jerk.” Clears throat. “No, Dean. You don’t have to come with me.”
“You didn’t actually answer my question, Sammy. I know I don’t have to come with you but do you want me to? I could take a few days off work, we can go together, I can take the bus back.”
Slow sigh. “No, Dean. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Confused. “Why?”
“Dean. I’m gay. I’m gay and it’s 1999 and if you come to Palo Alto with me, everyone will think...” Trails off. “It’s just not a good idea.”
“Dude.” Solemn. “You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah. I know. But...that’s all you are.” Quick smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Sam, damn it!”
Door closes.
Car starts.
“FUCK!”
*
*
“Claudia?” Panting. Hitching breaths. “Claudia? I need Dean.”
“Sam? Are you okay?”
“Just...Just, Dean. Please?”
“Yeah. Yeah, hold on.”
Clicks.
“Sammy? Sam, what’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing. I just...I needed to talk to someone.”
“You don’t sound so good, man. What’s going on?”
“Things are really...really hard here. I mean the work isn’t that bad...but...” breaths hitching “I can’t...I had my first appointment with Dr. Anderson last night.”
“Dude.”
“Y-Yeah. She and I...didn’t work out so well. She’s awful Dean.”
“So what are you going to do, man?”
“Call Zak, I think. Let him know what’s going on. I just...” Slow breath out. “I needed to...Dean, you have no idea...”
“Hey, hey, Sammy. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t think so Dean, things are all different now.” Soft chuckle. “I should go. Sorry for freaking you out. I haven’t had a panic attack in years.”
“Call me before one happens again, okay? We’ll head it off.”
Smiles. “I will. Thank you, Dean.”
“Forget about it.”
Clicks.
*
*
“Good morning, Mr. Hastings. How was your week? Any progress on what we talked about last Friday?”
Flat look. “You mean when you informed me that it was high time to get over this phase of being gay?”
“It’s plain to see, Mr. Hastings, that in your struggle to find role models in your formative years, you latched onto Dean, someone who treated you as a normal person without regard to your intelligence, and sometimes those connections can be unhealthy. I don’t want to be one of those people who tells you that being gay is a mindset, but truly, Mr. Hastings, things are not as bad as you’re making them out to be.”
“No, it only feels like my entire world is ending.”
Smiles. “Sam, can I call you Sam? Maybe the most healthy thing for you to do would be to cut off ties with Dean immediately?”
“No.”
Surprised. “Well. That was...definite. Can I ask why?”
“I’m adopted, Dr. Anderson. I have no sisters or brothers. Everyone in my town has either known each other since birth or went to school with each other since everyone was in diapers. I worked and practically lived at an Artist store, and everything I ever did was to move past the label of being gay. The only person who helped me do that...is Dean. And you’re telling me I have to cut off all ties with him because I was unfortunate enough to fall in love with my best friend?” Scoffs. “Romance movies are made of people who fall in love with their best friends. I just happen to be male. So, no thank you. I will not be taking that advice, and I will be calling Dr. Webb to inform him of how terribly I’ve been treated here. Thank you, Dr. Anderson. For your overly expensive time.”
Door closes.
*
“Excuse me? Mr. Hastings?”
Pause. “Look, I’ve just had a really shitty time of it and I’d like to go home now.”
“Sorry. I’m Dr. Novak.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve only seen you twice, here. But if you ever need to talk...I’m here.” Small smile. “I also work on Campus, I’m the LGTB Activist Coordinator.”
“LGTB?”
“Lesbian-Gay-Transgendered-Bisexual.”
“How...did you know I was gay?”
Head tilt. “I have very good ears.” Offers hand. “Here’s my card. Call me anytime.”
Small smile. “Thanks, I will.”
*
*
Breathless. “Hello?”
“Sam?”
“Oh, shit. Hi, Jim. Sorry, just came in from a run, thought I was going to miss the phone.”
“Should I call back?”
“No, you’re fine. Hang on, let me get some water so I don’t sound like I’m dying.”
Pause.
“Sam?”
“Here.”
“The other members of our group were wondering if maybe we could convince you to do an art show.”
“Wait, seriously? They do realize I’m a law student and not an art major right?”
“I...don’t believe they care.”
“Oh. Then. Yes. Sure. What medium?”
“Any. And since it’ll be at the center of our sort of life, they want anything explicit or homosexual that you have. Some of the girls are a little more interested in this part of your art than they should be.”
Laughter. “Of course. I’ll do it. Just let me know when, where, and how many pieces to do.”
“And Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“How’s Dean?”
Laughs. “Good bye, Jimmy.”
*
*
“Yes, this is the Residence of Charleston, David and Crowley.”
“Um. You must be Alastair.”
Low chuckle. “Yes, may I ask who I’m speaking to?”
“This is Sam. Hastings. I’m phoning for Dean.”
Faint surprise. “Sam? Ahh...Sam. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. So you’re the voice that belongs to the name he called.”
Confusion. “Um, what?”
“Nothing, my dearest. Let me get Dean for you.”
Rustling, muffled voices.
“Sam!” Pause. “I told you he was annoying.”
“He seemed nice, actually.” Absently. “And he sounds kind of hot, if you want my opinion.”
“Dude!”
Laughs. “What? English accents are hot. It’s just the truth.”
“Jesus, Sammy. Ever heard of TMI? Ugh. So hanging up on you now.”
“Hey, before you go.”
“If this is another thing about Crowley being hot, I’m still hanging up on you.”
Snort. “No! Just, sorry I missed your birthday man.”
“Dude, you’re like a month too late.”
“Shut up. You know how hard Law school is? Especially when you’re 19? Suck it.”
Blush. “Good-bye Sam.”
“Night, Dean.”
Click.
*
*End
TBC: Year Seven
May 13th 2000 - January 1st 2001