Fic: Proxy (Supernatural/Supernatural RPF)
Title: Proxy
Author: rirren
Fandom: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Sam, Osric Chau
Pairing: Sam/Osric, unrequited Sam/Kevin
Word Count: ~4,000
Genre: angst, smut
Content notes: canonical character death
Summary: This guy isn't Kevin. Sam only wishes he was.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the words and events are completely made up. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to jdl71 for the beta!. Written for an spn-masquerade prompt that I shamefully only finished now.
*
5 weeks after Kevin died, Kevin walked through the door.
Sam was sitting in the library, squinting at an image of a cuneiform tablet, his Hittite dictionary lying open to the side. His head was pounding, and he kept mixing up the indirect and direct object in the sentence he was trying to translate. When he looked up at the creak of the door and saw Kevin standing there, he was so tired he actually smiled sheepishly at him; sure that Kevin was going to tell him off for staying up so late.
Kevin looked confused as he stepped into the room, glancing around like he didn't recognize where he was.
"Jared?" he ventured cautiously, and that was when Sam remembered that Kevin was dead.
Sam jumped back, knocking his chair down, and grabbed the fire poker behind him. Kevin, or Kevin's ghost, whatever the thing was, didn't look all that scared when Sam brandished it at him.
"Are we having a sword fight?" it said with a smile, before saying, "The set looks great. Did they refurbish it or something?"
Sam stepped forward, took an experimental swipe of the air in front of the ghost, and then yelled, "Dean! Dean!"
"Look, I'm not up for this right now. I just woke up, I don't know how I got here. Can you give me a lift back to my apartment?"
The ghost-the hallucination moved toward Sam, and Sam's heart lurched unpleasantly. He didn't want that thing, that shade of Kevin near him, not when the feel of his hand against Kevin's forehead was still so fresh in his mind, and he lashed out, hitting it in the arm.
The thing yelled and stumbled backwards, cradling its arm, and Dean burst through the door a second later.
"What the fuck-" Dean exclaimed, and the thing was saying, "that really fucking hurt, Jared," before Dean tackled it, bringing it to the ground.
Sam stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears, before he got his senses together and rushed forward to help Dean. The thing fought them-it was surprisingly strong, and it took the two of them to drag it to the dungeon and tie it to a chair.
Sam stood back and let Dean deal with it, chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down. He wanted it gone, because he couldn't deal with that flicker of hope deep inside him that maybe, somehow, Kevin had been brought back. But it was passing all the tests and it kept asking them to let it go, and then Sam realized the significance of the names it kept calling them.
"Wait, Dean. Those names, that's what those actors were called in that universe Balthazar sent us to. Jared Palaski and Jensen something!"
Sam crouched down next to the thing-the person that looked like Kevin. He flinched away, obviously having lost any trust he had had in Sam and Dean.
"What's your name?" Sam asked. "What are our names?"
The guy gave Sam a worried, evaluating look. "It's Osric. Osric Chau. And you're Jared Padalecki and that's Jensen Ackles. What-what's going on?
"He's from that world with those Hollywood idiots?" said Dean.
"How did you get here?" asked Sam.
"I don't know. I was at home, asleep, and I just woke up in this corridor ... I thought … this isn't a prank?"
"You're kidding me," said Dean, rolling his eye. "Just what we need right now."
Sam frowned, and then noticed the line of red down Osric's arm. "He needs a first aid kit. Grab me one and get Cas, okay?"
Dean's gaze flicked between Sam and Osric, as if assessing that Sam could hold his own, before he turned around and left, his face a sullen mask.
"What are you-what's the matter with you guys?"
"We're not Jared and Jensen," said Sam. "I'm Sam and that was Dean. You work on that show, right? The one about our lives? Well, it's all real in this universe."
Osric stared at him, his eyebrows rising and then falling as he tried to wrap his head around this. "This-this isn't funny. You're always messing with me 'cos I'm not a regular but that doesn't mean I'm gonna fall for this."
"It's not a joke. I'm sorry you got dragged into this world, because things are pretty messed up. But we'll get you back, Cas will."
Osric's face had slowly started to fall during this speech, the seriousness in Sam's voice getting to him.
"Got your thing." Dean stepped into the room and threw the first aid bag over; Sam caught it just in time. "And I sent a message to Cas." He pulled a chair around and sat down in it, folding his arms.
Osric was silent. Sam set about cleaning his cut, ignoring how Osric flinched when Sam grabbed his arm. It didn't need stitches so Sam just smeared ointment on it and taped a bandage over it. Castiel came just as Sam was finishing, making Osric yell at his sudden appearance out of thin air.
"Dean said there was a problem." Castiel stopped and stared at the man tied to the chair. "That is not Kevin Tran," he said, and he actually looked a little confused.
"Yeah, we think he's from that alternate world Balthazar sent us to," said Sam, standing up and turning around.
Castiel tilted his head, considering. "It may not be that exact world but yes, he isn't from here."
"Can you send him back?" Sam asked.
Castiel paused before saying, "Yes. But it will take a while to find exactly which universe he's from, and I'm very busy right now."
"How long?"
"8 days."
Sam let out a sigh as quietly as possible. "Thanks, Cas."
Castiel nodded and was gone the next second. Osric was leaning forward a little in his chair, straining the ropes as he stared at where the angel had been.
"He disappeared," he said. "No special effects or ... it's all real?"
"Yep," said Dean, standing up. "And you're stuck here until Cas can get off his ass."
*
Sam spent the next couple of days avoiding Osric. He brought research to any abandoned room he could find and worked in there, rarely going into the main part of the bunker. The new visitor-the guy who played Kevin in an alternate universe-was only going to be there for a week. There was no point in getting to know him well when he'd just be gone soon anyway.
But despite his studious avoidance of Osric, Sam still caught glimpses every now and then.
And he noticed that things weren't going that well. Dean wasn't in the mood for 'babysitting', as he called it, and would brush off any of Osric's attempts at conversation. Osric would try to find the only other person in the bunker sometimes, but Sam would never let himself be found, and Osric would just wander the halls, calling out pitifully for Sam or Dean, like he was the ghost of Kevin haunting the Bunker.
After three days Sam finally gave in.
Osric found him sitting in a storage room in a dusty, barely used corner of the bunker.
"You busy?" asked Osric. He looked around the room but didn't comment on the dust or Sam's hunched position sitting in the corner with a book in his lap.
"I've got research," Sam tried, with a half-hearted gesture at his book.
"Bring it up to the kitchen. I'll make some dinner for you. Please? No-one's talked to me for ages and I'm bored."
And he looked so pathetic that Sam followed him out of the room, dumped his stuff on the kitchen table, and tried to read while Osric chatted and clattered away preparing something. Osric talked a lot-telling Sam about some Halloween costume he'd worn recently, and some new movie that he had auditioned for. He was happy as well, ridiculously happy-bouncing, and turning around and smiling at Sam sometimes-even though he'd been torn from his own world and then ignored like a leper.
In looks, he was identical to Kevin. But everything else-his personality, his expressions, the way he moved-was almost the complete opposite of Kevin. Kevin hadn't been happy for most of the time he'd been with Sam and Dean. He'd been stressed, angry and afraid. Sam couldn't blame him; he hadn't been raised in this life, he'd deserved better: to go to college, get a girlfriend, hang out with people his own age and have fun. Maybe if he'd had that he would have been more like Osric.
Osric was chattering about something when the kitchen buzzer beeped. He spun around, putting the finishing touches of spices before proclaiming it "Done!" and putting the pans down on the table.
There was a rich tomato and basil scent from one of the pans, and Sam pushed his book to the side, realizing how hungry he actually was.
"You didn't have much fresh stuff so I just made rice and a stew out of all your canned veg," said Osric.
He started spooning food onto Sam's plate. "Here, try it," he said, eagerly.
Sam took a bite. "It's good," he said, surprised. Kevin hadn't been much of a cook, only eating when Sam or Dean cooked and forgetting to eat the rest of the time.
Osric grinned and started in on his own plate. "It's nothing special. I didn't really have a recipe."
They ate in silence for a while; Sam was far too hungry to attempt conversation. Osric spoke up when he had cleared his plate and started on a second helping.
"So, what have you been researching?"
"Dean got into some trouble," said Sam shortly, looking down at his plate. "I'm trying to get him out of it."
"Oh, the Mark?"
Sam's head shot up. "What-?" he started to say before the realization that Osric worked on a show all about their lives hit him. "Wait, do you know what's going to happen?"
Osric made an apologetic face. "Sorry. They don't tell me anything in advance. And I'm not a full-time cast member so I'm not there for every episode."
Sam clenched his jaw and returned to his food, pushing it around with his fork.
"Have you asked Crowley?"
"Been trying," Sam growled. "He's not answering. I know he knows more about the Mark than he's telling us."
"I wish I could have come here earlier and met him when he was locked up in the dungeon," said Osric, sounding like he wasn't paying much attention to Sam. There was a little smile on his face. "He's so cool and funny, you know one time he-"
Sam stood up abruptly, his chair screeching along the floor. "Crowley held Kevin captive for months and killed his mom," he said harshly. Sam caught a split-second of Osric's face falling before he turned around and walked away.
*
Osric caught up with Sam the next morning, when Sam was putting on his trainers for a run. Sam glanced over. Osric was wearing some of Kevin's clothes: grey sweatpants and a hoodie that had seen better days. He seemed to fill out the clothes better than Kevin had.
"Hey," said Osric, fiddling with the frayed threads of his sleeve. "Can I come out with you on your run?"
"If you can keep up," said Sam bluntly.
Sam set off on his usual route, a long loop through the woods and then on a track around the neighboring fields. He started off with a jog to warm up, and then graduated to a run, long legs pushing forward and feet pounding the dirt. The cool morning air rushed through his hair, cooling his skin and filling his lungs. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders and his mind start to relax, worries temporarily forgotten in the rhythm of the run.
To his surprise Osric seemed to have no trouble keeping pace-his form good when Sam looked over: back straight with a forefoot strike. He had obviously done this before.
"So, uh, I wanted to apologize for last night," said Osric, his words coming out between pants. "I wasn't thinking, I just-it's hard to believe all this stuff is real. It was just a show to me, with cool characters but, it's not so cool when it's real life."
Sam kept silent for the next few feet. "Apology accepted," he said eventually, and then, "You're keeping up pretty well, do you do this regularly?"
Osric's face lit up. "Yeah. It's not really my passion though, I'm more into Wushu."
"Huh," said Sam. "Show me later?"
They got back 40 minutes later, and after some quick stretching, Osric showed Sam some of his moves, which impressively included several flips. Then he challenged Sam and they sparred: it was surprisingly close. Osric had obviously been professionally trained, but his moves were too flashy and he'd only fought in competitions, whereas Sam fought for his life, none of his movements were without purpose.
He blocked a punch, then pulled Osric's arm towards him and twisted it, forcing Osric to his knees with his arm behind his back. Sam was so close Osric's hair was tickling his nose, the smell of his shampoo and the heat of his body filling his senses. The moment seemed to last an eternity before Osric yielded.
Sam released him and Osric sprung up, remarking, "You're better than Jared," before pulling off his shirt to wipe at his flushed face.
It was the first time Sam had caught a glimpse of the physique he'd guessed at under Osric's clothes. His eyes traced Osric's biceps, across his collarbone, down his chest to his six pack, shining with sweat. Sam tore his eyes away before they could linger too long on where his boxers were just visible above his low slung sweatpants. A familiar heat curled in his belly.
*
Osric was around a lot more after that, but Sam didn't really want to push him away. He still felt that sick guilt when something about Osric-the thoughtful look on his face when he was reading something, or a simple smile-reminded him too much of Kevin, but leaving Osric on his own, abandoning him, made him feel worse. Dean was keeping to himself, chafing at not being able to go out on a hunt, and spent most of his time with the Impala or down at the shooting range.
So Sam let Osric talk to him when he was researching, and he let Osric come along on his morning runs. One time Osric caught Sam watching Jonathan Creek on his laptop, and joined him. Afterwards he introduced Sam to some cartoon he liked called Adventure Time, and they watched it together. Osric just wanted some company while he was stuck here, and Sam gave him that, keeping his behavior as platonic and friendly as possible.
Almost a week into Osric's stay Sam woke up in the middle of the night, sheets damp with sweat, heart pounding from the nightmare-Kevin's throat underneath Sam's hands, and then Kevin's skin burning, his whole body set alight by angelic grace while Sam could do nothing.
Sam slowly relaxed his grip on the gun underneath his pillow. He drew a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. He stood up and shakily walked across his bedroom to the door, planning to wash his face.
He was just returning from the bathroom when he noticed a faint light underneath the door of the spare bedroom. He crept up to the door, pushing it open when he heard nothing inside. Osric was sitting up in bed, the laptop in his lap illuminating his face in cold blue light. He had headphones in, his face relaxed, and he didn't notice Sam at the door until Sam went to close it.
"Hey," he whispered, pulling out the headphones. "What's up? Can't sleep?"
"Sorry, I-I saw the light on, just wanted to check."
"I'm watching Futurama," said Osric. "You can come watch it with me, if you want." And he scooted aside on the bed, making room.
Sam hesitated, before deciding he wasn't likely to get any more sleep tonight anyway, and crept in, closing the door shut behind him silently. Osric folded over the duvet cover and Sam got in underneath and settled in next to Osric, shoulders almost touching. Osric handed over one of the headphone buds, sharing it, and clicked play on the video. Sam hadn't seen much of this show, except occasionally at a friend's house at college, but the few glimpses he'd caught were interesting. He didn't exactly watch it this time though, just let it wash over him and distract his mind.
And then he felt a foot brush against his leg. Osric's eyes didn't move away from the screen so Sam just assumed it was an accident. But then the foot was back again, this time stroking his calf and pushing underneath it, toes curling against him in a way that could only be deliberate. Sam froze for a second and then brought his leg up, bending his knee and touching his naked foot to Osric's. A shiver went through him at the realization that their height difference meant that Osric's leg could only reach just below Sam's knee.
Osric rubbed his toes against the side of Sam's foot, trailing upwards to softly circle his ankle. Sam glanced to the side without moving his head-Osric was biting his lip, eyes fixed on the screen but obviously not watching it. Sam moved his whole leg this time, placing it on top of Osric's thigh, his toes flexing and touching the calf of his other leg, rubbing the soft hairs there. Osric's mouth parted, taking in a breath, and Sam couldn't take it anymore.
He leaned over, hand cupping the back of Osric's head, and met his lips in a desperate kiss. Osric gripped Sam's shirt, gasping into his mouth. Sam moved, his hands on both sides of Osric's body, towering over him, and tried to crawl forward. His knee bumped the laptop and Osric swore, breaking the kiss as he lunged to prevent the laptop from falling off the bed.
"Just let me put this thing somewhere," he said, his face flushed and hair tousled and untidy from Sam's hands.
Osric got out of the bed, walking over to put the laptop in the closet, and Sam followed, unwilling to let Osric too far out of his reach. When Osric closed the closet door Sam crowded him against the door, pressing his front to Osric's back. It was crazy just how tiny he was-Sam's body could cover him completely.
He felt Osric shiver and Sam dipped his face down, nuzzling Osric in the place where his neck and shoulder met-soft black hair tickled his nose. He kissed his neck, tested his teeth softly against the skin there, then sucked hard. Osric let out a hiss and tried to turn around; Sam pushed him harder against the door and let him struggle for a minute, while he bruised Osric's neck with kisses, before he spun him around. Sam pinned Osric's arms above his head-his wrists felt tiny in Sam's grip-and Osric's eyes were dark as he took deep breaths, his arms flexing while he stayed himself.
Sam bent down to kiss him and Osric pushed himself up on tiptoes to meet his lips.
Osric kissed back roughly but Sam, Sam was barely keeping himself in control. It was like there was this hunger in him demanding that he take everything he could from Osric, that he devour him, and somewhere underneath would be what Sam really wanted, what he'd wanted for so long.
At some point Sam noticed Osric trying to get a leg around him, and he let go of Osric's wrists, both arms coming down to pick Osric up. Osric responded beautifully: wrapping both legs around Sam's waist as Sam kept him up against the wall. Sam's hands fitted perfectly over Osric's ass, each palm covering a muscled cheek, and he squeezed them, making Osric buck against him.
The soft cotton of his pyjama pants was rubbing against his dick, and he could feel a matching stiffness as Osric wriggled against him. They didn't say any words. Like this, clothed and silent, it felt dirty and secret.
Osric braced himself with one hand around Sam's shoulders as they grinded against each other, the other hand travelling up to brush against Sam's hair, touch his parted lips. Sam turned to nip at his fingers, catching one in his mouth and sucking at it for a second before letting it go, a string of spit connected it before it snapped. Osric's head tilted back, resting against the wall, his eyes like dark pools of liquid as he stared up at Sam. They closed momentarily and he bit his lips as one of the movements seemed to hit a particularly good spot.
His buttocks flexed under Sam's hands, and Sam adjusted the weight of Osric again, easily manipulating his small form and switching to a one handed hold. He palmed the bulge in Osric's pants, feeling the weight of it through the thin material, before he stuck his hand in and brought it out. The skin was silky soft under his hand, precome bleeding from the head. He wrapped his whole hand around the length, the pad of his thumb brushing the tip, and smudging the pearl of liquid. His own cock throbbed in his sweat pants and he grinded it against Osric's thigh.
"Fuck, come on Sam," Osric whispered, his voice cracking halfway through. His hands clenched around Sam's shoulders, nails digging into the muscle. "Please."
Sam let go of Osric's dick, fumbling before pulling his own out. Osric lifted himself up higher, and their cocks brushed against each other, fitting against each other in such perfect ecstasy that Sam lost control for a second, losing his grip when his hips bucked forward involuntarily. Osric's legs tightened around Sam's waist, and Sam pushed Osric back against the wall, hard. Osric let out a surprised huff, lips quirking upwards, and Sam got his hand around Osric's ass again.
Sam bent his head, looking down as he encircled both their cocks in one hand. Osric licked his palm and brought his hand down to join Sam's, so small next to it, and started a jerking rhythm. Sam closed his eyes for a second at the dual feel of both their hands, one familiar, the other completely foreign-his breath coming in harsh pants as he tried to get himself under control. They moved their hands together, palms slipping over soft skin, wet with precome and spit, the friction building to an inescapable pleasure.
Sam was getting closer, moving his hand faster and his hip thrusts becoming more erratic. He pulled Osric up higher, ducking his head, suddenly desperate to catch those red lips in a kiss before he came. Osric met his desperation, sucking messily back, and then Sam had to break away. He was almost there, almost, and he couldn't take it anymore, it just felt so good, and he heard himself- "Oh fuck, Kevin, Kev-", before he was coming, everything wiped out with the perfect illusion that the person he was holding was someone else.
He pulled back when it was over, numb legs carrying them both to the bed, letting Osric drop on to the mattress before collapsing there himself. He felt cold, humiliation seeping into him. The silence between them was too uncomfortable for Osric to have not heard anything. Sure enough-
"… Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Sam groaned, flinging an arm over his eyes. There was quiet for a few seconds before he changed his mind and said, "Wait, I just … did he ever feel anything back?"
Osric didn't speak for a moment. "I-I can't answer that," he said shakily. "I don't know-I don't know everything about him …"
Sam cut him off, "Fine," and turned over.
Because Osric was lying. But he didn't know if he wanted to know the truth.
Author: rirren
Fandom: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Sam, Osric Chau
Pairing: Sam/Osric, unrequited Sam/Kevin
Word Count: ~4,000
Genre: angst, smut
Content notes: canonical character death
Summary: This guy isn't Kevin. Sam only wishes he was.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the words and events are completely made up. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to jdl71 for the beta!. Written for an spn-masquerade prompt that I shamefully only finished now.
*
5 weeks after Kevin died, Kevin walked through the door.
Sam was sitting in the library, squinting at an image of a cuneiform tablet, his Hittite dictionary lying open to the side. His head was pounding, and he kept mixing up the indirect and direct object in the sentence he was trying to translate. When he looked up at the creak of the door and saw Kevin standing there, he was so tired he actually smiled sheepishly at him; sure that Kevin was going to tell him off for staying up so late.
Kevin looked confused as he stepped into the room, glancing around like he didn't recognize where he was.
"Jared?" he ventured cautiously, and that was when Sam remembered that Kevin was dead.
Sam jumped back, knocking his chair down, and grabbed the fire poker behind him. Kevin, or Kevin's ghost, whatever the thing was, didn't look all that scared when Sam brandished it at him.
"Are we having a sword fight?" it said with a smile, before saying, "The set looks great. Did they refurbish it or something?"
Sam stepped forward, took an experimental swipe of the air in front of the ghost, and then yelled, "Dean! Dean!"
"Look, I'm not up for this right now. I just woke up, I don't know how I got here. Can you give me a lift back to my apartment?"
The ghost-the hallucination moved toward Sam, and Sam's heart lurched unpleasantly. He didn't want that thing, that shade of Kevin near him, not when the feel of his hand against Kevin's forehead was still so fresh in his mind, and he lashed out, hitting it in the arm.
The thing yelled and stumbled backwards, cradling its arm, and Dean burst through the door a second later.
"What the fuck-" Dean exclaimed, and the thing was saying, "that really fucking hurt, Jared," before Dean tackled it, bringing it to the ground.
Sam stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears, before he got his senses together and rushed forward to help Dean. The thing fought them-it was surprisingly strong, and it took the two of them to drag it to the dungeon and tie it to a chair.
Sam stood back and let Dean deal with it, chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down. He wanted it gone, because he couldn't deal with that flicker of hope deep inside him that maybe, somehow, Kevin had been brought back. But it was passing all the tests and it kept asking them to let it go, and then Sam realized the significance of the names it kept calling them.
"Wait, Dean. Those names, that's what those actors were called in that universe Balthazar sent us to. Jared Palaski and Jensen something!"
Sam crouched down next to the thing-the person that looked like Kevin. He flinched away, obviously having lost any trust he had had in Sam and Dean.
"What's your name?" Sam asked. "What are our names?"
The guy gave Sam a worried, evaluating look. "It's Osric. Osric Chau. And you're Jared Padalecki and that's Jensen Ackles. What-what's going on?
"He's from that world with those Hollywood idiots?" said Dean.
"How did you get here?" asked Sam.
"I don't know. I was at home, asleep, and I just woke up in this corridor ... I thought … this isn't a prank?"
"You're kidding me," said Dean, rolling his eye. "Just what we need right now."
Sam frowned, and then noticed the line of red down Osric's arm. "He needs a first aid kit. Grab me one and get Cas, okay?"
Dean's gaze flicked between Sam and Osric, as if assessing that Sam could hold his own, before he turned around and left, his face a sullen mask.
"What are you-what's the matter with you guys?"
"We're not Jared and Jensen," said Sam. "I'm Sam and that was Dean. You work on that show, right? The one about our lives? Well, it's all real in this universe."
Osric stared at him, his eyebrows rising and then falling as he tried to wrap his head around this. "This-this isn't funny. You're always messing with me 'cos I'm not a regular but that doesn't mean I'm gonna fall for this."
"It's not a joke. I'm sorry you got dragged into this world, because things are pretty messed up. But we'll get you back, Cas will."
Osric's face had slowly started to fall during this speech, the seriousness in Sam's voice getting to him.
"Got your thing." Dean stepped into the room and threw the first aid bag over; Sam caught it just in time. "And I sent a message to Cas." He pulled a chair around and sat down in it, folding his arms.
Osric was silent. Sam set about cleaning his cut, ignoring how Osric flinched when Sam grabbed his arm. It didn't need stitches so Sam just smeared ointment on it and taped a bandage over it. Castiel came just as Sam was finishing, making Osric yell at his sudden appearance out of thin air.
"Dean said there was a problem." Castiel stopped and stared at the man tied to the chair. "That is not Kevin Tran," he said, and he actually looked a little confused.
"Yeah, we think he's from that alternate world Balthazar sent us to," said Sam, standing up and turning around.
Castiel tilted his head, considering. "It may not be that exact world but yes, he isn't from here."
"Can you send him back?" Sam asked.
Castiel paused before saying, "Yes. But it will take a while to find exactly which universe he's from, and I'm very busy right now."
"How long?"
"8 days."
Sam let out a sigh as quietly as possible. "Thanks, Cas."
Castiel nodded and was gone the next second. Osric was leaning forward a little in his chair, straining the ropes as he stared at where the angel had been.
"He disappeared," he said. "No special effects or ... it's all real?"
"Yep," said Dean, standing up. "And you're stuck here until Cas can get off his ass."
*
Sam spent the next couple of days avoiding Osric. He brought research to any abandoned room he could find and worked in there, rarely going into the main part of the bunker. The new visitor-the guy who played Kevin in an alternate universe-was only going to be there for a week. There was no point in getting to know him well when he'd just be gone soon anyway.
But despite his studious avoidance of Osric, Sam still caught glimpses every now and then.
And he noticed that things weren't going that well. Dean wasn't in the mood for 'babysitting', as he called it, and would brush off any of Osric's attempts at conversation. Osric would try to find the only other person in the bunker sometimes, but Sam would never let himself be found, and Osric would just wander the halls, calling out pitifully for Sam or Dean, like he was the ghost of Kevin haunting the Bunker.
After three days Sam finally gave in.
Osric found him sitting in a storage room in a dusty, barely used corner of the bunker.
"You busy?" asked Osric. He looked around the room but didn't comment on the dust or Sam's hunched position sitting in the corner with a book in his lap.
"I've got research," Sam tried, with a half-hearted gesture at his book.
"Bring it up to the kitchen. I'll make some dinner for you. Please? No-one's talked to me for ages and I'm bored."
And he looked so pathetic that Sam followed him out of the room, dumped his stuff on the kitchen table, and tried to read while Osric chatted and clattered away preparing something. Osric talked a lot-telling Sam about some Halloween costume he'd worn recently, and some new movie that he had auditioned for. He was happy as well, ridiculously happy-bouncing, and turning around and smiling at Sam sometimes-even though he'd been torn from his own world and then ignored like a leper.
In looks, he was identical to Kevin. But everything else-his personality, his expressions, the way he moved-was almost the complete opposite of Kevin. Kevin hadn't been happy for most of the time he'd been with Sam and Dean. He'd been stressed, angry and afraid. Sam couldn't blame him; he hadn't been raised in this life, he'd deserved better: to go to college, get a girlfriend, hang out with people his own age and have fun. Maybe if he'd had that he would have been more like Osric.
Osric was chattering about something when the kitchen buzzer beeped. He spun around, putting the finishing touches of spices before proclaiming it "Done!" and putting the pans down on the table.
There was a rich tomato and basil scent from one of the pans, and Sam pushed his book to the side, realizing how hungry he actually was.
"You didn't have much fresh stuff so I just made rice and a stew out of all your canned veg," said Osric.
He started spooning food onto Sam's plate. "Here, try it," he said, eagerly.
Sam took a bite. "It's good," he said, surprised. Kevin hadn't been much of a cook, only eating when Sam or Dean cooked and forgetting to eat the rest of the time.
Osric grinned and started in on his own plate. "It's nothing special. I didn't really have a recipe."
They ate in silence for a while; Sam was far too hungry to attempt conversation. Osric spoke up when he had cleared his plate and started on a second helping.
"So, what have you been researching?"
"Dean got into some trouble," said Sam shortly, looking down at his plate. "I'm trying to get him out of it."
"Oh, the Mark?"
Sam's head shot up. "What-?" he started to say before the realization that Osric worked on a show all about their lives hit him. "Wait, do you know what's going to happen?"
Osric made an apologetic face. "Sorry. They don't tell me anything in advance. And I'm not a full-time cast member so I'm not there for every episode."
Sam clenched his jaw and returned to his food, pushing it around with his fork.
"Have you asked Crowley?"
"Been trying," Sam growled. "He's not answering. I know he knows more about the Mark than he's telling us."
"I wish I could have come here earlier and met him when he was locked up in the dungeon," said Osric, sounding like he wasn't paying much attention to Sam. There was a little smile on his face. "He's so cool and funny, you know one time he-"
Sam stood up abruptly, his chair screeching along the floor. "Crowley held Kevin captive for months and killed his mom," he said harshly. Sam caught a split-second of Osric's face falling before he turned around and walked away.
*
Osric caught up with Sam the next morning, when Sam was putting on his trainers for a run. Sam glanced over. Osric was wearing some of Kevin's clothes: grey sweatpants and a hoodie that had seen better days. He seemed to fill out the clothes better than Kevin had.
"Hey," said Osric, fiddling with the frayed threads of his sleeve. "Can I come out with you on your run?"
"If you can keep up," said Sam bluntly.
Sam set off on his usual route, a long loop through the woods and then on a track around the neighboring fields. He started off with a jog to warm up, and then graduated to a run, long legs pushing forward and feet pounding the dirt. The cool morning air rushed through his hair, cooling his skin and filling his lungs. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders and his mind start to relax, worries temporarily forgotten in the rhythm of the run.
To his surprise Osric seemed to have no trouble keeping pace-his form good when Sam looked over: back straight with a forefoot strike. He had obviously done this before.
"So, uh, I wanted to apologize for last night," said Osric, his words coming out between pants. "I wasn't thinking, I just-it's hard to believe all this stuff is real. It was just a show to me, with cool characters but, it's not so cool when it's real life."
Sam kept silent for the next few feet. "Apology accepted," he said eventually, and then, "You're keeping up pretty well, do you do this regularly?"
Osric's face lit up. "Yeah. It's not really my passion though, I'm more into Wushu."
"Huh," said Sam. "Show me later?"
They got back 40 minutes later, and after some quick stretching, Osric showed Sam some of his moves, which impressively included several flips. Then he challenged Sam and they sparred: it was surprisingly close. Osric had obviously been professionally trained, but his moves were too flashy and he'd only fought in competitions, whereas Sam fought for his life, none of his movements were without purpose.
He blocked a punch, then pulled Osric's arm towards him and twisted it, forcing Osric to his knees with his arm behind his back. Sam was so close Osric's hair was tickling his nose, the smell of his shampoo and the heat of his body filling his senses. The moment seemed to last an eternity before Osric yielded.
Sam released him and Osric sprung up, remarking, "You're better than Jared," before pulling off his shirt to wipe at his flushed face.
It was the first time Sam had caught a glimpse of the physique he'd guessed at under Osric's clothes. His eyes traced Osric's biceps, across his collarbone, down his chest to his six pack, shining with sweat. Sam tore his eyes away before they could linger too long on where his boxers were just visible above his low slung sweatpants. A familiar heat curled in his belly.
*
Osric was around a lot more after that, but Sam didn't really want to push him away. He still felt that sick guilt when something about Osric-the thoughtful look on his face when he was reading something, or a simple smile-reminded him too much of Kevin, but leaving Osric on his own, abandoning him, made him feel worse. Dean was keeping to himself, chafing at not being able to go out on a hunt, and spent most of his time with the Impala or down at the shooting range.
So Sam let Osric talk to him when he was researching, and he let Osric come along on his morning runs. One time Osric caught Sam watching Jonathan Creek on his laptop, and joined him. Afterwards he introduced Sam to some cartoon he liked called Adventure Time, and they watched it together. Osric just wanted some company while he was stuck here, and Sam gave him that, keeping his behavior as platonic and friendly as possible.
Almost a week into Osric's stay Sam woke up in the middle of the night, sheets damp with sweat, heart pounding from the nightmare-Kevin's throat underneath Sam's hands, and then Kevin's skin burning, his whole body set alight by angelic grace while Sam could do nothing.
Sam slowly relaxed his grip on the gun underneath his pillow. He drew a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. He stood up and shakily walked across his bedroom to the door, planning to wash his face.
He was just returning from the bathroom when he noticed a faint light underneath the door of the spare bedroom. He crept up to the door, pushing it open when he heard nothing inside. Osric was sitting up in bed, the laptop in his lap illuminating his face in cold blue light. He had headphones in, his face relaxed, and he didn't notice Sam at the door until Sam went to close it.
"Hey," he whispered, pulling out the headphones. "What's up? Can't sleep?"
"Sorry, I-I saw the light on, just wanted to check."
"I'm watching Futurama," said Osric. "You can come watch it with me, if you want." And he scooted aside on the bed, making room.
Sam hesitated, before deciding he wasn't likely to get any more sleep tonight anyway, and crept in, closing the door shut behind him silently. Osric folded over the duvet cover and Sam got in underneath and settled in next to Osric, shoulders almost touching. Osric handed over one of the headphone buds, sharing it, and clicked play on the video. Sam hadn't seen much of this show, except occasionally at a friend's house at college, but the few glimpses he'd caught were interesting. He didn't exactly watch it this time though, just let it wash over him and distract his mind.
And then he felt a foot brush against his leg. Osric's eyes didn't move away from the screen so Sam just assumed it was an accident. But then the foot was back again, this time stroking his calf and pushing underneath it, toes curling against him in a way that could only be deliberate. Sam froze for a second and then brought his leg up, bending his knee and touching his naked foot to Osric's. A shiver went through him at the realization that their height difference meant that Osric's leg could only reach just below Sam's knee.
Osric rubbed his toes against the side of Sam's foot, trailing upwards to softly circle his ankle. Sam glanced to the side without moving his head-Osric was biting his lip, eyes fixed on the screen but obviously not watching it. Sam moved his whole leg this time, placing it on top of Osric's thigh, his toes flexing and touching the calf of his other leg, rubbing the soft hairs there. Osric's mouth parted, taking in a breath, and Sam couldn't take it anymore.
He leaned over, hand cupping the back of Osric's head, and met his lips in a desperate kiss. Osric gripped Sam's shirt, gasping into his mouth. Sam moved, his hands on both sides of Osric's body, towering over him, and tried to crawl forward. His knee bumped the laptop and Osric swore, breaking the kiss as he lunged to prevent the laptop from falling off the bed.
"Just let me put this thing somewhere," he said, his face flushed and hair tousled and untidy from Sam's hands.
Osric got out of the bed, walking over to put the laptop in the closet, and Sam followed, unwilling to let Osric too far out of his reach. When Osric closed the closet door Sam crowded him against the door, pressing his front to Osric's back. It was crazy just how tiny he was-Sam's body could cover him completely.
He felt Osric shiver and Sam dipped his face down, nuzzling Osric in the place where his neck and shoulder met-soft black hair tickled his nose. He kissed his neck, tested his teeth softly against the skin there, then sucked hard. Osric let out a hiss and tried to turn around; Sam pushed him harder against the door and let him struggle for a minute, while he bruised Osric's neck with kisses, before he spun him around. Sam pinned Osric's arms above his head-his wrists felt tiny in Sam's grip-and Osric's eyes were dark as he took deep breaths, his arms flexing while he stayed himself.
Sam bent down to kiss him and Osric pushed himself up on tiptoes to meet his lips.
Osric kissed back roughly but Sam, Sam was barely keeping himself in control. It was like there was this hunger in him demanding that he take everything he could from Osric, that he devour him, and somewhere underneath would be what Sam really wanted, what he'd wanted for so long.
At some point Sam noticed Osric trying to get a leg around him, and he let go of Osric's wrists, both arms coming down to pick Osric up. Osric responded beautifully: wrapping both legs around Sam's waist as Sam kept him up against the wall. Sam's hands fitted perfectly over Osric's ass, each palm covering a muscled cheek, and he squeezed them, making Osric buck against him.
The soft cotton of his pyjama pants was rubbing against his dick, and he could feel a matching stiffness as Osric wriggled against him. They didn't say any words. Like this, clothed and silent, it felt dirty and secret.
Osric braced himself with one hand around Sam's shoulders as they grinded against each other, the other hand travelling up to brush against Sam's hair, touch his parted lips. Sam turned to nip at his fingers, catching one in his mouth and sucking at it for a second before letting it go, a string of spit connected it before it snapped. Osric's head tilted back, resting against the wall, his eyes like dark pools of liquid as he stared up at Sam. They closed momentarily and he bit his lips as one of the movements seemed to hit a particularly good spot.
His buttocks flexed under Sam's hands, and Sam adjusted the weight of Osric again, easily manipulating his small form and switching to a one handed hold. He palmed the bulge in Osric's pants, feeling the weight of it through the thin material, before he stuck his hand in and brought it out. The skin was silky soft under his hand, precome bleeding from the head. He wrapped his whole hand around the length, the pad of his thumb brushing the tip, and smudging the pearl of liquid. His own cock throbbed in his sweat pants and he grinded it against Osric's thigh.
"Fuck, come on Sam," Osric whispered, his voice cracking halfway through. His hands clenched around Sam's shoulders, nails digging into the muscle. "Please."
Sam let go of Osric's dick, fumbling before pulling his own out. Osric lifted himself up higher, and their cocks brushed against each other, fitting against each other in such perfect ecstasy that Sam lost control for a second, losing his grip when his hips bucked forward involuntarily. Osric's legs tightened around Sam's waist, and Sam pushed Osric back against the wall, hard. Osric let out a surprised huff, lips quirking upwards, and Sam got his hand around Osric's ass again.
Sam bent his head, looking down as he encircled both their cocks in one hand. Osric licked his palm and brought his hand down to join Sam's, so small next to it, and started a jerking rhythm. Sam closed his eyes for a second at the dual feel of both their hands, one familiar, the other completely foreign-his breath coming in harsh pants as he tried to get himself under control. They moved their hands together, palms slipping over soft skin, wet with precome and spit, the friction building to an inescapable pleasure.
Sam was getting closer, moving his hand faster and his hip thrusts becoming more erratic. He pulled Osric up higher, ducking his head, suddenly desperate to catch those red lips in a kiss before he came. Osric met his desperation, sucking messily back, and then Sam had to break away. He was almost there, almost, and he couldn't take it anymore, it just felt so good, and he heard himself- "Oh fuck, Kevin, Kev-", before he was coming, everything wiped out with the perfect illusion that the person he was holding was someone else.
He pulled back when it was over, numb legs carrying them both to the bed, letting Osric drop on to the mattress before collapsing there himself. He felt cold, humiliation seeping into him. The silence between them was too uncomfortable for Osric to have not heard anything. Sure enough-
"… Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Sam groaned, flinging an arm over his eyes. There was quiet for a few seconds before he changed his mind and said, "Wait, I just … did he ever feel anything back?"
Osric didn't speak for a moment. "I-I can't answer that," he said shakily. "I don't know-I don't know everything about him …"
Sam cut him off, "Fine," and turned over.
Because Osric was lying. But he didn't know if he wanted to know the truth.