Hear Both Sides | NC17 | 1.4/4
Part Four
Sam, somehow, managed to pass his first set of finals and was surprised to find Crowley waiting for him at the bookshop when he got there on the day he’d received his results. He was more surprised just because he’d thought the man would want a small break from Sam given Sam had spent a majority of the Christmas break at Crowley’s house - though had still yet to meet the elusive Gabriel, much to Sam’s disappointment. So he had honestly not actually expected to see the man for a good week at least after Sam had finally left Crowley’s house and gone back to halls. Begrudgingly.
"Um… Hi?" Sam asked as opposed to greeted, stepping around Crowley to get into the shop and waving absently to Emily. He mentally snickered when she gave a small whimper at the sight of him. Clearly she still hadn’t quite forgiven him for the whole Bible debacle.
"Thought I’d come see how you did with those exam things. Given you have yet to throw yourself in front of a fast moving vehicle, I’m going to guess that you didn’t fail," Crowley drawled as he followed Sam into the shop, clearly not even bothering to hide his amusement at Emily’s fear of him given he smirked at the poor girl and made her squeak when he waved his fingers at him.
"I didn’t fail, no. I passed and actually didn’t do too bad!" Sam told him, smiling widely and pausing at the staff door, needing to go through it, but not quite wanting to until Crowley had actually told him the real reason he was there, because Sam refused to accept that the man was actually there to see if he’d passed his exams.
"Ah, good. That means my plans to take you out and celebrate, and get you illegally very very drunk aren’t gonna fall flat on their face. Of course, I had decided that had you failed miserably that I’d get you shitfaced in commiseration or something," Crowley drawled, smirking that ever-present smirk of his that Sam was starting to find himself more and more attracted to.
"Shit…faced…?" Sam asked tentatively, not entirely sure he wanted to know.
"Drunk, ratarsed, paralytic, squiffy, pissed, take your pick, that’s what you’re gonna be tonight. So what time will you be leaving this delightful place? Same time as usual?"
"Um… yeah… er… Crowley? I don’t… I don’t really look twenty-one. At all. Despite the height. I’ve never been served in my life, even with the fake ID my brother got me," Sam admitted, looking a little sheepish and feeling a rising sense of wary alarm at the smug look on Crowley’s face.
"No need to worry about that. I know a place that even a baby-faced kid like you will get served. No, you just carry on working and surviving another shift with the freaky Bible-Basher over there. She admitted that she wants to marry Jesus yet? She does know he’s dead, right?" Crowley added in a loud whisper, chuckling evilly when they heard Emily give a mournful squeak. Sam just rolled his eyes and then shook his head, shoving at Crowley’s shoulder playfully.
"I need to start my shift, Crowley. I guess I’ll meet you outside here at eight?" Sam asked, pushing the door open a touch and then looking at Crowley expectantly.
"Eight, see you outside. Don’t worry about having to dress up or anything like that. It really isn’t the kind of place to dress up at," Crowley told him and Sam snickered as he shook his head.
"I don’t think I was really expecting it to be from what little you’ve told me about the place. In fact, it sounds like the kind of place most parents would warn their kids against."
"Most parents… but not yours?"
"Not mine. See you at eight!" Sam told him with a bright smile, and then finally pushed his way into the staff area, not looking back to see what kind of face Crowley was pulling at his back. Knowing the man as he did, it wasn’t exactly going to be nice. Chuckling to himself, Sam went to clock in for his shift and considered that his good mood might not even be dented by Jesus’ future wife.
At ten minutes past eight - Emily’s incessant whining and bitching having made them a bit behind in cashing up - Sam walked out of the shop and smiled brightly when he saw Crowley leaning against the wall waiting patiently - for him - for Sam to finish.
"Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting. Had a brief moment of hysteria when Emily found some one had written 'God is amongst us' on a dollar bill. And then had to calm her down and explain that no one had bought anything with anything higher than a twenty dollar bill anyway, so it wouldn’t have been found if it had been written on a hundred dollar bill as that sort of news obviously deserved. So yeah, sorry. Now can I get really really drunk?" Sam asked him with a wide smile which was possibly a little more forced than it would have been had Sam not had to live through the last fifteen minutes.
"Sounds like you need it. Come on then, we can walk there, shouldn’t take too long. You got any classes in the morning?"
"Yeah, starts at ten."
"You’re gonna hate me tomorrow then. Off we go! Be prepared to try some of the most disgusting things you’ve ever tasted but will soon forget about," Crowley warned him, and Sam felt a shiver of foreboding go down his spine before he nodded warily and followed Crowley towards his doom - or possibly his admittance into the hazy world of alcoholism.
Crowley was right. Sam hated him. He couldn’t quite remember the actual reasons for his hatred of Crowley except for the worst headache he’d ever had - and that included the time he’d been thrown headfirst into a wall by a pissed off poltergeist - and he now had to sit through two hours of tax law. Or pre law. Sam couldn’t remember and it hurt to try. Whatever it was, it hurt.
Most worryingly, Sam had no recollection of anything that happened the night before after his first - acid green - drink and Crowley telling him something about meeting the fairies. That should possibly have given Sam a hint that he didn’t want to drink whatever Crowley kept putting in front of him. Apparently though he didn’t do that and now was living to regret it.
He was also possibly still a little drunk as through the pained groans Sam still managed to giggle when he walked into the same door three times and then finally managed to stumble into a free seat in the lecture theatre. He maybe also smelt like a brewery, but as well as his common sense and the feeling in his fingers, Sam had seemingly also lost his sense of smell.
Sam actually wanted to cry a little. He hurt that much. And maybe throw up, but the lecturer for this particular class looked quite mean and unsympathetic even if a student is clearly in pain and possibly dying. Whimpering a little when said lecturer slammed a text down on the table in front of him before moving on to the next student to abuse, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to send Crowley a text.
I hate you.
His phone buzzed at him second later with Crowley’s response, which made his stomach flip uncomfortably, though that could have been the night before making another appearance. Sam only just managed to not run from the room to throw up. Though he wasn’t placing any bets on him not doing it at any point in the next two hours.
Love you too, Pumpkin! Feeling alright?
Really, really hate you. Hope you rot in Hell.
Been there, done that. Should you be learning how to talk me out of going back? Sam, quite honestly, had no idea how to take that text, but the annoying Limey had a point, so Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket and then concentrated on trying to take notes - and hold the pencil in the first place, if he was honest. The feeling still hadn’t quite returned to his fingers.
Sam gave a muffled groan when, a good thirty minutes later, the girl next to him poked his ribs, giggling quietly at Sam’s reaction. He moved his head to look at her and see what she wanted, even though that alone made him feel like his eyeballs had just exploded in his sockets.
"Hey, you alright?" She whispered when she saw that Sam clearly wasn’t going to say anything to her and was quite content in just looking at her questioningly. Sam was a little baffled, however, when after asking if he was alright, she promptly smacked him in the face with a lock of her hair. "Sorry!"
"Ow. And I’m dying. Slowly. Don’t drink green drinks that evil, evil men offer you with wicked smirks on their faces. Don’t do it. You’ll regret it. You won’t remember fully what you did the night before and you’ll wake up with someone tap dancing on your skull and possibly a tiny dead animal on your tongue," Sam muttered, shifting back to look towards the front so that the professor didn’t pick up on the fact that they weren’t listening.
"You’re hungover?" She whispered to him and really, there was possibly an even better reason that Sam didn’t have any friends at the college, and that’s because he made absolutely no effort with them and couldn’t get why most people thought the best time to get to know someone was either just before you jumped into bed with them or in the middle of class. It was weird and just plain annoying.
"Sure. Look, um… did you need something? Or were you just genuinely interested in my health?" Sam asked, trying not to sound snappish or rude, but given the way he felt at the moment, he wasn’t sure it worked.
"Oh, um… I was just gonna see if you wanted to join me and a few of my friends for coffee after this class? If you’re free," she said, quickly looking down and taking notes when the professors gaze strayed in their direction. Sam however, just blinked down at his notebook and wondered why she would be asking him that. He hadn’t exactly given off a friendly, approachable aura.
"Er… I’m kinda busy, sorry. Maybe next time though?" Sam suggested, not that he really had any intention of following up on that. He’d found that, with his job, classes and Crowley, Sam didn’t really have to time to actively make new friends and do all that stuff that went with having friends, like having a life. And he didn’t really mind, either. Crowley was more than enough friendship for him. Given how he was currently feeling after one night of that friendship, he wasn’t too sure he’d survive having more friends.
Still, the girl - who hadn’t actually given Sam her name, which suggested to Sam that she wasn’t all too invested in this friendship malarky anyways - gave him a bright smile and nodded her head, like Sam had just given his word that, after today, he would spend the rest of his life following her around and having coffee after class.
Which he hadn’t. And he definitely wouldn’t.
Sam just gave a weak smile back and then returned to listening to the professor drivel on about taxes and other thrilling exciting things, and decided to spend the rest of the class convincing his stomach not to rebel on him and at least last until he could get to his room and pass out there. He didn’t have another class that day, it’d be fine as long as he was awake in time for work at four.
He could work that. If his body would just cooperate with him a little and let him go through with this plan. It’d work. And maybe, just maybe, the next time he was in this class - which he really needed to check because he had no idea if it was a twice a week class or a once a week class - he’d be feeling more alive and would be more willing to make more friends.
Possibly.
Baby steps.
So Sam was starting to himself in a bit of an awkward position the more he hung around with Crowley, because since admitting - sort of - to himself that he possibly found the older man attractive, he hadn’t been able to escape the thought and it was starting to drive him a little bit insane. Not that he was completely sane to start with mind. He was willingly friends with Crowley after all.
But this attraction of his, which couldn’t go anywhere because Sam was insane, not delusional, was actually making him even more scatty, spastic and stuttery. Which really was saying something.
It had gotten to the point where even Janey - the girl in his tax law class had finally introduced herself and Sam had then felt that he probably had to go have a coffee with her at least once. Turns out she was quite funny and got Sam’s odd sense of humour - had started to notice that something might be wrong and had finally cornered him in the library.
Which was unfair because that was the one place - until now - where Sam had alone. Where no one else - Janey, Brady or Crowley - could bother him and he could flail, spaz out or just generally act like an utter moron with no sense of spacial awareness or coordination skills without witnesses.
"You know what finally clued me in that something might be wrong?" Janey asked as she took a seat and pinned Sam to his with a glare that Sam had realised only women can achieve. It was the one that said 'I know at least ten ways to castrate you with one six inch heeled shoe'. And made most men’s balls want to hide in their bodies.
Well, Sam’s did at least. But his lifestyle had given him a more than acute sense of self preservation. In some situations.
"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. Now go away and let me study," Sam muttered, steadfastly staring down at his book.
"Mope you mean. Anyway, in answer to my question, it was when you nearly smacked Professor Wilson in the face with your paper and didn’t actually notice. Though to be fair, the amusement from witnessing Wilson’s stunned expression as you then walked into the doorframe before bouncing off it out of the room was brilliant. Made my year."
"It’s March," Sam pointed out dryly, trying his hardest to stop the blush on his face. No wonder Wilson hated him if Sam accosted the poor guy in their last lecture.
"Just gives you more time to make this year even more spectacular with your clumsy, slightly awkward ways. And I did mean the academic year, not the… year year," Janey added, wrinkling her nose a little when Sam snorted.
"Awesome, glad to be of service."
"So! Going to share what’s up, or do we all just live in fear that one day you kill someone accidentally when you flail and smack them down some stairs or something?" Janey asked him, leaning forward to rest her chin on her arms and looking at Sam with wide, unblinking eyes that were a little unnerving. She smirked when Sam fidgeted and she clearly realised that Sam was cornered. And Sam mentally cursed his inability to lie convincingly.
"I’m not that bad," Sam defended himself sullenly. And internally cringed. He should possibly reconsider the whole lawyer thing if that was how he defended himself.
"Sure you are. So spill already before I take out the big guns." Sam, quite honestly, wanted to carry on denying anything was wrong just to find out what the hell the 'big guns' were. But at the same time, maybe talking about his slight problem would help him a little.
Giving a huge sigh, Sam shrugged and then groaned and let his head drop down onto his book heavily. He steadfastly ignored the snickering coming from Janey.
"Fine. I’m… well, I have this stupid… crush on someone I know and well, it sucks because I have no chance with them," Sam grumbled into the book, before heaving another huge sigh and looked up to see Janey looking at him with a strange expression on her face.
"Um… this friend… it’s not… it’s not me, is it?" Janey asked him, obviously making a concerted effort to not sound disgusted or… actually, Sam wasn’t sure how else she’d feel and he was pretty certain that had it been her, he’d currently be a little hurt. As it was, Sam had to hold back the loud laugh that wanted to escape.
"Er… no. It’s a guy and you’ve never met him as far as I know."
"You’re gay?" Janey asked him incredulously, and Sam felt his face inflame once more as he tried to shrink in his seat.
"Apparently? Look, not my issue. Gay, not gay, the point is, I have this stupid crush on one of my only friends here and I don’t have a chance with the guy and it sucks and is also, according to you, making me even more clumsy and… flaily."
"How’d you know you don’t have a chance? Is he straight? Taken?" Janey asked him and Sam shrugged, then huffed and ran his hand through his hair in agitation.
"Dunno if he’s straight or not, but if I had to guess, I’d say not. And well, he’s definitely not taken. But it’s not really that that tells me I don’t have a chance. It’s more… well, he’s older… And more sophisticated. And just… I’m Sam. The dorky, friendless loser who threatened him with a Bible," Sam said in defeat, slumping back in his chair and only looking up when Janey’s attempts to muffle her giggles failed. "It’s not funny!"
"It kinda is, Sam. You threatened him with a Bible? Why?!" Janey asked before breaking down into giggles once more. Sam actually had to wait for her to calm down a little before he actually replied.
"He kept moving them into the Fantasy section! I was going to lose my job! It was clearly self-defence!" Sam exclaimed in a hissed whisper, glaring when this just made Janey’s giggle even harder.
"Oh that’s brilliant! Genius! Can I meet him? Please! He sounds hilarious!"
"No. You both suck."
"You wish he did," Janey said slyly, grinning widely when Sam gaped at her and then blushed furiously and hid his face behind his hair.
"Shut up. You’re not helping!"
"Sorry, sorry. Fine, so you like an older guy. Sam, if he hasn’t dropped your friendship by now, then clearly he’s invested in it. So how do you honestly know he’s not interested unless you ask him?"
"If I ask him and he’s not, I’ve lose his friendship! I can’t do that! I practically live with the guy given Brady’s shocking propensity to sexile me!" Sam hissed at her, glaring when she just raised an eyebrow at him. She huffed and glared when he clearly wasn’t getting what she was trying to tell him.
"You sleep at his house? He has no problem with this? And I know of Brady, so it’s damn often. Seriously? And you think this guy doesn’t like you? Wow, you really are oblivious to the world around you, aren’t you. It’s a wonder you’ve ever gotten laid," Janey muttered, eyebrow raising when Sam blushed and then rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet her eyes. He wished he could die the moment she gave a small gasp.
"Don’t say it."
"Oh my god! You’re a virgin? How?! Look at you? You’re adorably hot! Who wouldn’t tap that?"
"Apparently you if your horror when you thought I had a crush on you was anything to go buy," Sam told her dryly, and Janey at least had the decency to blush bright red.
"Well, okay, fine. But seriously?"
"Yes, fine, seriously. Now shut up and can we please change the subject?"
"No way! Well, I mean, we can step away from the topic of your um… sexual status but… Sam, you have to tell this guy how you feel or, no kidding here, you might actually kill someone with your clumsy ways," Janey told him bluntly, Sam blushed as he looked away from her and back down to his texts.
"Maybe."
"Fine, I’m not gonna push you. So want to go for some coffee? I could do with a caffeine hit," Janey said with a wide smile, getting a slightly smaller one from Sam as he nodded his agreement.
"Yeah, sure. I think my eyeballs might melt if I study much longer," Sam admitted, and then gave a small groan as he stood up. Janey smirked at him and then walked out of his little hideaway, making Sam automatically suspicious once more. Really, why had he decided to make friends again? Nothing but trouble.
For some reason Sam decided that Janey probably had a point with the whole Crowley thing and that he should possibly consider talking to the man about it. The worst that could happen would be Crowley laughing in his face and Sam losing his friendship, which yes, would totally suck but not really the end of the world.
Of course, the main reason that Sam started to concede to Janey’s point was that in the last week since being cornered by her, Sam had managed to smack two of his professors in the face with his flailing, fall on top of possibly the tiniest girl on his corridor, punch Brady in the chest - not the worst thing he could do - assault a man asking for the latest Pratchett novel, pull down the Harlequin book rack and finally, the day before, he accidentally walked into the door just as Dionne was approaching on the other side of it, thus knocking the door into her and knocking her out. The last one was probably the thing that finally made Sam own up that he might have a bit of an issue right now.
He was also eternally thankful that this had never happened to him when he was hunting with his brother and father, or else he might have been killed years ago. He doubted he’d have all his limbs attached at least.
So now here Sam was, fidgeting as he stood on the doorstep, waiting for Crowley to answer the door, though why Sam hadn’t let himself in, he had no idea. Probably because of what he was here to own up to.
He was therefore, a little surprised when Crowley wasn’t the one to answer the door. It was a really quite short - well, compared to Sam most people hit that mark - auburn haired man with a wide grin on his face as he looked Sam up and down.
"Well, well, well, and just who are you? Crowley? Have you been holding back? Getting young jailbait boys coming to your house at random times? I’m shocked! You could have at leas waited for me to joi-ack!" The man, who Sam assumed was the elusive Gabriel, was interrupted when Crowley grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back hard. He then shoved the man out of the way and looked at Sam, eyebrow raising in a silent question.
"Hi! Um… just…" And Sam’s determination to just tell Crowley about his feelings died like he’d just salt and burned it. Sam slumped and sighed, "I can leave if it’s not a good time, I was just bored. Got a day off but no studying I need to do so yeah… Sorry."
"Come in, Moose. About time you met Gabriel anyway. Work on getting you desensitised to the idiot," Crowley muttered, leading Sam into the house and through to the front room, where Gabriel was sitting, supposedly watching TV but probably paying more attention to Sam and Crowley. Or at least, Sam suspected so.
"Um… hi, I’m Sam," Sam said with a small wave, wishing he could hide behind Crowley when Gabriel decided to cut the pretence of not paying attention and stared at Sam with wide, curious eyes and a huge grin. Crowley just huffed and probably rolled his eyes, before walking over and hitting Gabriel over the back of the head and pointing Sam towards his usual chair.
And yes, he had a usual chair. What of it? It was comfy and Sam felt like he could probably sleep in it if he thought Crowley would actually let him.
"So this is Sam! Sammy, Sam Sam Sammich, the Sam, Sammoth the Mammoth, Sasquatch-"
"Shut it, Trickster." Sam snickered, then regretted it immediately when Gabriel’s attention was dragged straight back to him. Though from the little he’s known of Gabriel, Crowley’s nickname of him seems rather apt.
"Fine, fine, so you’re Sam. I’ve heard… well actually I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, so do share! We have all the time in the world!" Gabriel said, with a wide smirk that made a shiver of fear run down Sam’s spine. He glanced at Crowley and just got an exasperated shake of the head.
"I’ll get us some tea then, shall I? Well, I’ll get us all a hot drink and for my peace of mind, I’ll pretend we’re all civilised and drinking tea," Crowley said with a sneer, walking into the kitchen as he muttered under his breath about yanks and no taste. Really, Sam figured the man should probably let go of some stereotypes, though he’d never actually tell him that to his face.
"How’d you get old grumpy boots to actually like you? I live with the guy and he only tolerates me," Gabriel said, looking genuinely intrigued to the answer and shuffling across the couch to sit nearer to Sam.
"Um… I think he only tolerates me as well," Sam pointed out, smiling weakly and getting a loud laugh out of Gabriel - who was possibly the least angelic person Sam had ever met now that he was thinking about it.
"You think he only tolerates you? Kid, he likes you. Actually, it’s a little scary. Doubt there’s anyone around that’d ever get away with hurting you though, so there is that. Well, enough about Crowley though, what about you? I wasn’t lying, Crowley really needs to learn the finer things points of gossip," Gabriel said, grinning widely when Sam couldn’t help but chuckle, because the man really did have a point.
"I’m… I’m a student here and erm… I met Crowley at work? Where I work at least… I don’t really know where Crowley works… haven’t actually asked. I kinda positive that he’s part of some sort of London crime gang…" Sam added under his breath, and promptly blushed bright red when Crowley placed a mug of coffee in front of him and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, amusement in his eyes.
"Part of the crime scene, eh? Well, don’t wanna be ruining your dreams about me, so I won’t deny that. Gabriel, stop brayin’, your laugh grates on my nerves," Crowley grumbled, slamming a cup of hot chocolate down in front of Gabriel before walking out and returning moments later with his own cup of tea.
"It was amusing! Come on! You do give off the old 'cross me an' I’ll melt your ankulls off wiv a paint strippah an' crush your knackahs wiv this 'ere 'ammah ' vibe," Gabriel said with what Sam could honestly say was the worst London accent he’d ever heard, including the time Dean got hooked on a strange British tv show for a few weeks when they were in a motel that bizarrely got BBC America. That was one time Sam was eager to more on actually.
"Butcher my accent like that again, and I’ll do worst than melt your ankles and crush your knuckles," Crowley warned, though Gabriel just grinned back at him then turned to look at Sam once more.
"So what are you studying, college boy?" Gabriel asked him, and Sam shrugged, looking away and picking up his coffee in a rubbish attempt to hide behind it.
"Pre-law."
"Ooh! Lawyer, huh? Well, Crowley being a mob boss is probably gonna be good for you then! I hear they pay their lawyers really well."
"You heard wrong, one, we have solicitors and two, be threaten 'em into helping us," Crowley said, smirking as he took a sip of tea whilst Gabriel and Sam just blinked at him.
"Well, guess that saves money. Sucks to be you though, Samsquatch." Sam winced at the nickname, unable to stop his nose from wrinkling and making Crowley chuckle. "Don’t like Samsquatch then, huh?"
"Makes me sound like a squash," Sam told him, once more wrinkling his nose before taking a sip of coffee.
"Huh… I was aiming for Sasquatch, but you’re right. Ooh! We can make Samsquatch pie!"
"I’m a little uncomfortable with this conversation," Sam admitted quietly from behind his coffee mug, which given it’s size, was doing a very inadequate job of hiding him.
"Gabriel, shut up. So, Moose, there a real reason you came over here or is your housemate shagging yet another unsuspecting female?" Crowley asked, ignoring Gabriel’s huff of annoyance and looking at Sam instead. Which, of course, meant Sam’s face pretty much set itself on fire with the force of his blush.
"See, that’s an interesting reaction right there. Now I’m really interested in finding out why you came to see old Grumpy Boots here. Do share!" Gabriel exclaimed with a wicked smirk on his face. Sam just shrank back in his chair a little and cursed Janey for putting the damn idea into his head in the first place. And his timing. That pretty much sucked as well.
"No! No, honest! Well, alright, so to be fair, Brady probably is working his way towards getting a new STD - and did I tell you that I had to go with him to the health clinic the other day because he thought he had pubic lice? Yeah, turns out he actually had crabs. Who’d have thought it? Really, though… I have to live with this guy? I spent a good portion of my spare cash to do all my laundry. Apparently a severe case of crabs is not a reason for a room swap, nor is it something to put women off of the guy. It distresses me a little actually. It’s just wrong," Sam muttered, shaking his head and dropping it into his hands. He hadn’t intended on distracting them with a change of topic, but if it worked that way, then Sam certainly wasn’t going to remind them.
"Your roommate has crabs?" Crowley asked dryly, not sounding all too shocked at all, but given he was quite used to Sam’s bitching about the guy by now, it wasn’t all too surprising.
"Well, I dunno, I mean how effective if the treatment? I think they should be gone by now, right? Oh god… what if he sleeps in my bed when I’m not there? Can you get crabs like that? Oh god! What if I’ve got crabs?!" Sam exclaimed, gaze unconsciously shooting to look at his crotch in horror before he looked up when he heard a snicker.
"I think you’d probably know, having little bugs crawling around your balls might be the give away," Gabriel commented lightly, before snickering once more and shaking his head. "Man, I missed out on the whole college thing! I need to sign up!"
"Much as it pains me to say it, Gabriel’s right. You’d probably know if you had crabs. So how long you thinking of staying?" Crowley asked him, having apparently, for once, decided not to pick up on the previous subject of why he was really there. Which was surprising really, given that wasn’t exactly something Crowley was known to do.
"Um… can I sleep on your sofa? I’d rather just avoid Brady for a little bit if that’s alright? I mean, if not, then I can go back and see if he’s er… finished. But yeah… I was wondering if the sofa was free…" Sam mumbled, looking at his hands in his lap, before moving to grab his coffee mug once more and looking at that instead.
"Aw, you mean you won't be sleeping in my bed? Now that is a shame," Gabriel announced, and Sam started to worry that all this blushing would soon become detrimental to his health.
"Gabriel, shut up. Moose, you can sleep in my bed. Can't fault you for not wanting to go back to your dorm," Crowley added with a mildly disgusted look on his face. Sam just gaped at him, unsure of what to say.
"With you?" Pretty sure that wasn't what he meant to say, but it did get the message across. Even if Sam now wished he could disappear.
"I promise not to molest you in the night, Moose, but I ain't giving up my bed for you. I don't like you that much," Crowley told him, rolling his eyes when Sam made a strange squeaky noise and Gabriel snickered into his hot chocolate.
"I um… Really? That's um… okay?" Sam was fairly certain that he was never going to tell Janey about this if only because she'd never let it go and also because, if he didn't tell Crowley about his little crush on the man, then Sam would probably accidentally smother himself in the night. Or kill Crowley. Either one would be unfortunate.
And were sadly highly likely.
Sam vaguely wondered if this was how a victorian bride felt on her wedding night as he lay on the bed with Crowley doing whatever it was he did in the bathroom before bed. Though he imagined that at least in the bride's case, she knew she was gonna get laid and wouldn't get punched/stabbed/knee-capped by admitting she had feelings for her husband.
The case was not the same for Sam. Well, in his mind at least. Sam was admittedly clinging on the shaky hope that maybe Crowley liked him too much to actually kill him. So maybe just severe bodily harm. Maybe Sam could get by with just a small maiming. Alright, maybe not.
"Moose?" Sam felt perfectly justified in the small yelp he gave before falling out of the bed when Crowley sat down on the other side of the bed. Though judging by the amused expression on Crowley's face, the other man possibly felt Sam had overreacted a little.
"Crowley! Hi! Um… sleep, yes? Right. Night?" Sam asked, slowly climbing back onto the bed and quickly covering his legs with the duvet like a startled, blushing virgin.
Which he was, but that wasn't the point. He still looked ridiculous judging by the look on Crowley's face.
"Moose, you feelin' quite alright?" Crowley asked him, actually sounding genuinely concerned, which was normally when Sam felt he should worry about himself and what he'd just done. Because if it made Crowley concerned, then it was very foolish, stupid or strange.
"Me? I'm fine! Completely fine. Why do you ask?" Sam asked, silently wondering if his voice really did sound that high pitched.
"You're twitchier than a whore in confession," Crowley told him dryly, which actually did make Sam stop twitching if only to look at him in confusion.
"Whores go to confession?"
"How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? It's a saying. What I mean is, you're acting even more out of it than normal and I was wondering what's got your knickers in a twist," Crowley grumbled, looking - Sam at least - like he was highly uncomfortable showing concern. Not that he was alone in the discomfort. Sam would be quite willing to forget this whole conversation and just try to go to sleep. "Sam."
"It's nothing! Really! I've just had a couple of things going on in my head and so it's made me a little spacey. Or um… spacier than normal at least," Sam admitted with a shrug, nibbling on his lip as he avoided meeting Crowley's gaze.
"Right. Wanna share with me what it is that you're thinkin' about?"
"Not really?"
"Not the right answer, try again," Crowley told him in a no nonsense tone, and Sam slumped a little in the bed and heaved a sigh, mentally praying that what he was about to admit wouldn't make Crowley cut contact with him.
"See… it's not like important or anything. And well, I'm sure eventually I'll be able to ignore it or something. Maybe I'm just going through this stage or something and it really is nothing. But well, it's not like I can control it and I didn't say anything because I don't want to lose our friendship, it's like the most important thing for me right now. So yeah, I just figured I'd ignore it and it'd go away. But it hasn't yet. And Janey said I should say something before I killed someone accidentally with my spastic ways, but it's hard, you know? So yeah," Sam added with a small sigh, shrugging and playing with the duvet, tangling his fingers in it and avoiding looking up to see Crowley's expression.
"What the bloody fuck did that mean? I got something about our friendship being over because of something you've done. Maybe. I dunno, that was vague at best. Moose, you're gonna have to go into a bit more detail."
"I don't know how without sounding like a prepubescent girl!" Sam admitted in a whine, finally looking up to see that Crowley was looking at him in amusement.
"Try?"
"Fine! I have this stupid crush on you and it won't go away because you're all 'ooh, snark snark' and 'Moose, sneer sneer' and for some reason that turns me on! I mean, I may possibly need some sort of medical help, I don't know! But it's not my fault! It's you! You're just so… so… British!" Sam finally exploded, arms pinwheeling around as he tried to make his point and ignore the look on Crowley's face.
"I'm too British? And because of this, you have a crush on me? I got that right?"
"Pretty much."
"Well… that's… flatterin'. No, wait, that sounds like a shitty answer. Moose, are you even gay?"
"Maybe? Possibly. I mean, I'm fairly certain wanting to jump you on a regular basis makes my card to the straight club become a little suspect, right? So… probably gay. Bi at least. Though… I dunno. Maybe Crowley-sexual. Because I'm not really attracted to any women I've seen… Um…" Sam trailed off, looking up through his fringe to see if Crowley looked like he was about to bash his head in with the bedside lamp. He breathed a tiny sigh of relief when it didn't look like he was. If anything, he looked bemused.
"Well… far be it me to get in the way of your experimentation period of life. You're not exactly hard on the eyes, Kid. So if you wanna find out if your crush on me is just a phase, I'm all up for that. And before you say it, no, it won't ruin our friendship if you decide it really is just a passing curiosity," Crowley added, not for the first time making Sam wonder if the man really could read his mind.
"Oh… so… what now?"
"Now? You stop acting like a victorian virgin and embrace your hormones like any self-respecting teenage male and come over here."
"Now? Really? Like… we're going to have sex now? I mean… not that I'm against sex with you because I'm not but… now? I'm just… I don't… Will we… what… umm… now?" Sam stammered out, though he did do as suggested - told - and moved closer to Crowley, giving a startled yelp when the man then pushed him to lie down and moved to lie over him, smirking down at Sam's startled face.
"Now. And no, we won't go all the way, I don't think you're quite ready for that. Generally speaking, it's probably for the best to work out if you actually are gay before you get someone to shove their cock up your arse. We'll work our way towards that, yeah?" Crowley asked him, smirking when he realised that his words were clearly having an effect on Sam, and really, Sam was beginning to wonder if he was secretly some sort of sexual deviant. Because he was fairly certain Crowley could suggest they do anything right now and Sam would be all up for it.
"Um… work towards… yep. Good. Definitely. Yes! Good!" Sam exclaimed, nodding his head furiously before he Crowley stopped any further rambling by pressing their lips together in a hard, deep kiss, pressing his hips down into Sam's and pushing his tongue into Sam's mouth when he opened with a gasp. Sam's hands scrabbled at Crowley's back before he settled on pressing one into the older man's hair and the other clutching his shoulder.
Sam pulled back moments later, gasping in air and thrusting up into Crowley, hand tightening on his shoulder as Crowley moved to bite and lick at Sam's neck. Sam moaned loudly, then tugged Crowley's hair and pulled him until their lips were touching once more. Sam kissed him deeply, moans and gasps breaking up the kisses as Crowley shifted to lie between Sam's legs, deepening his thrusts and making Sam groan as sparks started to flash behind his eyelids.
Clutching at Crowley's shoulders even tighter, Sam moaned and broke the kiss, throwing his head back and gasping as he felt his climax building. His back practically arched off the bed in pleasure when Crowley shifted once more to bring his hand around Sam's erection and began to bring him to orgasm as he nibbled at the skin behind Sam's neck. A few tugs later and Sam gasped out his orgasm and then slumped into the bed, twitching a little as Crowley thrust into his hip half a dozen more times before he grunted his own climax and then slumped to the side off of Sam.
"That was… awesome," Sam gasped out once he felt he'd be able to speak once more. Crowley chuckled next to him and moved on the bed, getting out seconds later and leaving to go into the en suite, Sam sleepily watched him before his eyes closed sleepily, only the jerk open moments later when Crowley dropped a damp cloth on his stomach. "S'that?"
"Trust me on this, you do not want to wake up with dried come on your stomach. It ain't nice. Now shift over, and we can talk more in the morning if you think you're gonna freak out. Don't do it now, ruins the aftermath of a good orgasm," Crowley mumbled, getting into the bed once more and nudging Sam over a little. Sam just shot him a sleepy smile, wiped at the mess on his stomach - and when did he take his t-shirt off? - Then dropped the cloth over the side of the bed and moved to snuggle into Crowley's side. "Christ, you're a cuddler. Shoulda known. Mention this to anyone and I'll cut your balls off."
"Secrets safe with me. Sleep now," Sam mumbled, nuzzling into Crowley's shoulder a little before finally letting sleep take over, vaguely feeling Crowley chuckle and then pull Sam further into his side.
Next
Previous
Sam, somehow, managed to pass his first set of finals and was surprised to find Crowley waiting for him at the bookshop when he got there on the day he’d received his results. He was more surprised just because he’d thought the man would want a small break from Sam given Sam had spent a majority of the Christmas break at Crowley’s house - though had still yet to meet the elusive Gabriel, much to Sam’s disappointment. So he had honestly not actually expected to see the man for a good week at least after Sam had finally left Crowley’s house and gone back to halls. Begrudgingly.
"Um… Hi?" Sam asked as opposed to greeted, stepping around Crowley to get into the shop and waving absently to Emily. He mentally snickered when she gave a small whimper at the sight of him. Clearly she still hadn’t quite forgiven him for the whole Bible debacle.
"Thought I’d come see how you did with those exam things. Given you have yet to throw yourself in front of a fast moving vehicle, I’m going to guess that you didn’t fail," Crowley drawled as he followed Sam into the shop, clearly not even bothering to hide his amusement at Emily’s fear of him given he smirked at the poor girl and made her squeak when he waved his fingers at him.
"I didn’t fail, no. I passed and actually didn’t do too bad!" Sam told him, smiling widely and pausing at the staff door, needing to go through it, but not quite wanting to until Crowley had actually told him the real reason he was there, because Sam refused to accept that the man was actually there to see if he’d passed his exams.
"Ah, good. That means my plans to take you out and celebrate, and get you illegally very very drunk aren’t gonna fall flat on their face. Of course, I had decided that had you failed miserably that I’d get you shitfaced in commiseration or something," Crowley drawled, smirking that ever-present smirk of his that Sam was starting to find himself more and more attracted to.
"Shit…faced…?" Sam asked tentatively, not entirely sure he wanted to know.
"Drunk, ratarsed, paralytic, squiffy, pissed, take your pick, that’s what you’re gonna be tonight. So what time will you be leaving this delightful place? Same time as usual?"
"Um… yeah… er… Crowley? I don’t… I don’t really look twenty-one. At all. Despite the height. I’ve never been served in my life, even with the fake ID my brother got me," Sam admitted, looking a little sheepish and feeling a rising sense of wary alarm at the smug look on Crowley’s face.
"No need to worry about that. I know a place that even a baby-faced kid like you will get served. No, you just carry on working and surviving another shift with the freaky Bible-Basher over there. She admitted that she wants to marry Jesus yet? She does know he’s dead, right?" Crowley added in a loud whisper, chuckling evilly when they heard Emily give a mournful squeak. Sam just rolled his eyes and then shook his head, shoving at Crowley’s shoulder playfully.
"I need to start my shift, Crowley. I guess I’ll meet you outside here at eight?" Sam asked, pushing the door open a touch and then looking at Crowley expectantly.
"Eight, see you outside. Don’t worry about having to dress up or anything like that. It really isn’t the kind of place to dress up at," Crowley told him and Sam snickered as he shook his head.
"I don’t think I was really expecting it to be from what little you’ve told me about the place. In fact, it sounds like the kind of place most parents would warn their kids against."
"Most parents… but not yours?"
"Not mine. See you at eight!" Sam told him with a bright smile, and then finally pushed his way into the staff area, not looking back to see what kind of face Crowley was pulling at his back. Knowing the man as he did, it wasn’t exactly going to be nice. Chuckling to himself, Sam went to clock in for his shift and considered that his good mood might not even be dented by Jesus’ future wife.
At ten minutes past eight - Emily’s incessant whining and bitching having made them a bit behind in cashing up - Sam walked out of the shop and smiled brightly when he saw Crowley leaning against the wall waiting patiently - for him - for Sam to finish.
"Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting. Had a brief moment of hysteria when Emily found some one had written 'God is amongst us' on a dollar bill. And then had to calm her down and explain that no one had bought anything with anything higher than a twenty dollar bill anyway, so it wouldn’t have been found if it had been written on a hundred dollar bill as that sort of news obviously deserved. So yeah, sorry. Now can I get really really drunk?" Sam asked him with a wide smile which was possibly a little more forced than it would have been had Sam not had to live through the last fifteen minutes.
"Sounds like you need it. Come on then, we can walk there, shouldn’t take too long. You got any classes in the morning?"
"Yeah, starts at ten."
"You’re gonna hate me tomorrow then. Off we go! Be prepared to try some of the most disgusting things you’ve ever tasted but will soon forget about," Crowley warned him, and Sam felt a shiver of foreboding go down his spine before he nodded warily and followed Crowley towards his doom - or possibly his admittance into the hazy world of alcoholism.
Crowley was right. Sam hated him. He couldn’t quite remember the actual reasons for his hatred of Crowley except for the worst headache he’d ever had - and that included the time he’d been thrown headfirst into a wall by a pissed off poltergeist - and he now had to sit through two hours of tax law. Or pre law. Sam couldn’t remember and it hurt to try. Whatever it was, it hurt.
Most worryingly, Sam had no recollection of anything that happened the night before after his first - acid green - drink and Crowley telling him something about meeting the fairies. That should possibly have given Sam a hint that he didn’t want to drink whatever Crowley kept putting in front of him. Apparently though he didn’t do that and now was living to regret it.
He was also possibly still a little drunk as through the pained groans Sam still managed to giggle when he walked into the same door three times and then finally managed to stumble into a free seat in the lecture theatre. He maybe also smelt like a brewery, but as well as his common sense and the feeling in his fingers, Sam had seemingly also lost his sense of smell.
Sam actually wanted to cry a little. He hurt that much. And maybe throw up, but the lecturer for this particular class looked quite mean and unsympathetic even if a student is clearly in pain and possibly dying. Whimpering a little when said lecturer slammed a text down on the table in front of him before moving on to the next student to abuse, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to send Crowley a text.
I hate you.
His phone buzzed at him second later with Crowley’s response, which made his stomach flip uncomfortably, though that could have been the night before making another appearance. Sam only just managed to not run from the room to throw up. Though he wasn’t placing any bets on him not doing it at any point in the next two hours.
Love you too, Pumpkin! Feeling alright?
Really, really hate you. Hope you rot in Hell.
Been there, done that. Should you be learning how to talk me out of going back? Sam, quite honestly, had no idea how to take that text, but the annoying Limey had a point, so Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket and then concentrated on trying to take notes - and hold the pencil in the first place, if he was honest. The feeling still hadn’t quite returned to his fingers.
Sam gave a muffled groan when, a good thirty minutes later, the girl next to him poked his ribs, giggling quietly at Sam’s reaction. He moved his head to look at her and see what she wanted, even though that alone made him feel like his eyeballs had just exploded in his sockets.
"Hey, you alright?" She whispered when she saw that Sam clearly wasn’t going to say anything to her and was quite content in just looking at her questioningly. Sam was a little baffled, however, when after asking if he was alright, she promptly smacked him in the face with a lock of her hair. "Sorry!"
"Ow. And I’m dying. Slowly. Don’t drink green drinks that evil, evil men offer you with wicked smirks on their faces. Don’t do it. You’ll regret it. You won’t remember fully what you did the night before and you’ll wake up with someone tap dancing on your skull and possibly a tiny dead animal on your tongue," Sam muttered, shifting back to look towards the front so that the professor didn’t pick up on the fact that they weren’t listening.
"You’re hungover?" She whispered to him and really, there was possibly an even better reason that Sam didn’t have any friends at the college, and that’s because he made absolutely no effort with them and couldn’t get why most people thought the best time to get to know someone was either just before you jumped into bed with them or in the middle of class. It was weird and just plain annoying.
"Sure. Look, um… did you need something? Or were you just genuinely interested in my health?" Sam asked, trying not to sound snappish or rude, but given the way he felt at the moment, he wasn’t sure it worked.
"Oh, um… I was just gonna see if you wanted to join me and a few of my friends for coffee after this class? If you’re free," she said, quickly looking down and taking notes when the professors gaze strayed in their direction. Sam however, just blinked down at his notebook and wondered why she would be asking him that. He hadn’t exactly given off a friendly, approachable aura.
"Er… I’m kinda busy, sorry. Maybe next time though?" Sam suggested, not that he really had any intention of following up on that. He’d found that, with his job, classes and Crowley, Sam didn’t really have to time to actively make new friends and do all that stuff that went with having friends, like having a life. And he didn’t really mind, either. Crowley was more than enough friendship for him. Given how he was currently feeling after one night of that friendship, he wasn’t too sure he’d survive having more friends.
Still, the girl - who hadn’t actually given Sam her name, which suggested to Sam that she wasn’t all too invested in this friendship malarky anyways - gave him a bright smile and nodded her head, like Sam had just given his word that, after today, he would spend the rest of his life following her around and having coffee after class.
Which he hadn’t. And he definitely wouldn’t.
Sam just gave a weak smile back and then returned to listening to the professor drivel on about taxes and other thrilling exciting things, and decided to spend the rest of the class convincing his stomach not to rebel on him and at least last until he could get to his room and pass out there. He didn’t have another class that day, it’d be fine as long as he was awake in time for work at four.
He could work that. If his body would just cooperate with him a little and let him go through with this plan. It’d work. And maybe, just maybe, the next time he was in this class - which he really needed to check because he had no idea if it was a twice a week class or a once a week class - he’d be feeling more alive and would be more willing to make more friends.
Possibly.
Baby steps.
So Sam was starting to himself in a bit of an awkward position the more he hung around with Crowley, because since admitting - sort of - to himself that he possibly found the older man attractive, he hadn’t been able to escape the thought and it was starting to drive him a little bit insane. Not that he was completely sane to start with mind. He was willingly friends with Crowley after all.
But this attraction of his, which couldn’t go anywhere because Sam was insane, not delusional, was actually making him even more scatty, spastic and stuttery. Which really was saying something.
It had gotten to the point where even Janey - the girl in his tax law class had finally introduced herself and Sam had then felt that he probably had to go have a coffee with her at least once. Turns out she was quite funny and got Sam’s odd sense of humour - had started to notice that something might be wrong and had finally cornered him in the library.
Which was unfair because that was the one place - until now - where Sam had alone. Where no one else - Janey, Brady or Crowley - could bother him and he could flail, spaz out or just generally act like an utter moron with no sense of spacial awareness or coordination skills without witnesses.
"You know what finally clued me in that something might be wrong?" Janey asked as she took a seat and pinned Sam to his with a glare that Sam had realised only women can achieve. It was the one that said 'I know at least ten ways to castrate you with one six inch heeled shoe'. And made most men’s balls want to hide in their bodies.
Well, Sam’s did at least. But his lifestyle had given him a more than acute sense of self preservation. In some situations.
"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. Now go away and let me study," Sam muttered, steadfastly staring down at his book.
"Mope you mean. Anyway, in answer to my question, it was when you nearly smacked Professor Wilson in the face with your paper and didn’t actually notice. Though to be fair, the amusement from witnessing Wilson’s stunned expression as you then walked into the doorframe before bouncing off it out of the room was brilliant. Made my year."
"It’s March," Sam pointed out dryly, trying his hardest to stop the blush on his face. No wonder Wilson hated him if Sam accosted the poor guy in their last lecture.
"Just gives you more time to make this year even more spectacular with your clumsy, slightly awkward ways. And I did mean the academic year, not the… year year," Janey added, wrinkling her nose a little when Sam snorted.
"Awesome, glad to be of service."
"So! Going to share what’s up, or do we all just live in fear that one day you kill someone accidentally when you flail and smack them down some stairs or something?" Janey asked him, leaning forward to rest her chin on her arms and looking at Sam with wide, unblinking eyes that were a little unnerving. She smirked when Sam fidgeted and she clearly realised that Sam was cornered. And Sam mentally cursed his inability to lie convincingly.
"I’m not that bad," Sam defended himself sullenly. And internally cringed. He should possibly reconsider the whole lawyer thing if that was how he defended himself.
"Sure you are. So spill already before I take out the big guns." Sam, quite honestly, wanted to carry on denying anything was wrong just to find out what the hell the 'big guns' were. But at the same time, maybe talking about his slight problem would help him a little.
Giving a huge sigh, Sam shrugged and then groaned and let his head drop down onto his book heavily. He steadfastly ignored the snickering coming from Janey.
"Fine. I’m… well, I have this stupid… crush on someone I know and well, it sucks because I have no chance with them," Sam grumbled into the book, before heaving another huge sigh and looked up to see Janey looking at him with a strange expression on her face.
"Um… this friend… it’s not… it’s not me, is it?" Janey asked him, obviously making a concerted effort to not sound disgusted or… actually, Sam wasn’t sure how else she’d feel and he was pretty certain that had it been her, he’d currently be a little hurt. As it was, Sam had to hold back the loud laugh that wanted to escape.
"Er… no. It’s a guy and you’ve never met him as far as I know."
"You’re gay?" Janey asked him incredulously, and Sam felt his face inflame once more as he tried to shrink in his seat.
"Apparently? Look, not my issue. Gay, not gay, the point is, I have this stupid crush on one of my only friends here and I don’t have a chance with the guy and it sucks and is also, according to you, making me even more clumsy and… flaily."
"How’d you know you don’t have a chance? Is he straight? Taken?" Janey asked him and Sam shrugged, then huffed and ran his hand through his hair in agitation.
"Dunno if he’s straight or not, but if I had to guess, I’d say not. And well, he’s definitely not taken. But it’s not really that that tells me I don’t have a chance. It’s more… well, he’s older… And more sophisticated. And just… I’m Sam. The dorky, friendless loser who threatened him with a Bible," Sam said in defeat, slumping back in his chair and only looking up when Janey’s attempts to muffle her giggles failed. "It’s not funny!"
"It kinda is, Sam. You threatened him with a Bible? Why?!" Janey asked before breaking down into giggles once more. Sam actually had to wait for her to calm down a little before he actually replied.
"He kept moving them into the Fantasy section! I was going to lose my job! It was clearly self-defence!" Sam exclaimed in a hissed whisper, glaring when this just made Janey’s giggle even harder.
"Oh that’s brilliant! Genius! Can I meet him? Please! He sounds hilarious!"
"No. You both suck."
"You wish he did," Janey said slyly, grinning widely when Sam gaped at her and then blushed furiously and hid his face behind his hair.
"Shut up. You’re not helping!"
"Sorry, sorry. Fine, so you like an older guy. Sam, if he hasn’t dropped your friendship by now, then clearly he’s invested in it. So how do you honestly know he’s not interested unless you ask him?"
"If I ask him and he’s not, I’ve lose his friendship! I can’t do that! I practically live with the guy given Brady’s shocking propensity to sexile me!" Sam hissed at her, glaring when she just raised an eyebrow at him. She huffed and glared when he clearly wasn’t getting what she was trying to tell him.
"You sleep at his house? He has no problem with this? And I know of Brady, so it’s damn often. Seriously? And you think this guy doesn’t like you? Wow, you really are oblivious to the world around you, aren’t you. It’s a wonder you’ve ever gotten laid," Janey muttered, eyebrow raising when Sam blushed and then rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet her eyes. He wished he could die the moment she gave a small gasp.
"Don’t say it."
"Oh my god! You’re a virgin? How?! Look at you? You’re adorably hot! Who wouldn’t tap that?"
"Apparently you if your horror when you thought I had a crush on you was anything to go buy," Sam told her dryly, and Janey at least had the decency to blush bright red.
"Well, okay, fine. But seriously?"
"Yes, fine, seriously. Now shut up and can we please change the subject?"
"No way! Well, I mean, we can step away from the topic of your um… sexual status but… Sam, you have to tell this guy how you feel or, no kidding here, you might actually kill someone with your clumsy ways," Janey told him bluntly, Sam blushed as he looked away from her and back down to his texts.
"Maybe."
"Fine, I’m not gonna push you. So want to go for some coffee? I could do with a caffeine hit," Janey said with a wide smile, getting a slightly smaller one from Sam as he nodded his agreement.
"Yeah, sure. I think my eyeballs might melt if I study much longer," Sam admitted, and then gave a small groan as he stood up. Janey smirked at him and then walked out of his little hideaway, making Sam automatically suspicious once more. Really, why had he decided to make friends again? Nothing but trouble.
For some reason Sam decided that Janey probably had a point with the whole Crowley thing and that he should possibly consider talking to the man about it. The worst that could happen would be Crowley laughing in his face and Sam losing his friendship, which yes, would totally suck but not really the end of the world.
Of course, the main reason that Sam started to concede to Janey’s point was that in the last week since being cornered by her, Sam had managed to smack two of his professors in the face with his flailing, fall on top of possibly the tiniest girl on his corridor, punch Brady in the chest - not the worst thing he could do - assault a man asking for the latest Pratchett novel, pull down the Harlequin book rack and finally, the day before, he accidentally walked into the door just as Dionne was approaching on the other side of it, thus knocking the door into her and knocking her out. The last one was probably the thing that finally made Sam own up that he might have a bit of an issue right now.
He was also eternally thankful that this had never happened to him when he was hunting with his brother and father, or else he might have been killed years ago. He doubted he’d have all his limbs attached at least.
So now here Sam was, fidgeting as he stood on the doorstep, waiting for Crowley to answer the door, though why Sam hadn’t let himself in, he had no idea. Probably because of what he was here to own up to.
He was therefore, a little surprised when Crowley wasn’t the one to answer the door. It was a really quite short - well, compared to Sam most people hit that mark - auburn haired man with a wide grin on his face as he looked Sam up and down.
"Well, well, well, and just who are you? Crowley? Have you been holding back? Getting young jailbait boys coming to your house at random times? I’m shocked! You could have at leas waited for me to joi-ack!" The man, who Sam assumed was the elusive Gabriel, was interrupted when Crowley grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back hard. He then shoved the man out of the way and looked at Sam, eyebrow raising in a silent question.
"Hi! Um… just…" And Sam’s determination to just tell Crowley about his feelings died like he’d just salt and burned it. Sam slumped and sighed, "I can leave if it’s not a good time, I was just bored. Got a day off but no studying I need to do so yeah… Sorry."
"Come in, Moose. About time you met Gabriel anyway. Work on getting you desensitised to the idiot," Crowley muttered, leading Sam into the house and through to the front room, where Gabriel was sitting, supposedly watching TV but probably paying more attention to Sam and Crowley. Or at least, Sam suspected so.
"Um… hi, I’m Sam," Sam said with a small wave, wishing he could hide behind Crowley when Gabriel decided to cut the pretence of not paying attention and stared at Sam with wide, curious eyes and a huge grin. Crowley just huffed and probably rolled his eyes, before walking over and hitting Gabriel over the back of the head and pointing Sam towards his usual chair.
And yes, he had a usual chair. What of it? It was comfy and Sam felt like he could probably sleep in it if he thought Crowley would actually let him.
"So this is Sam! Sammy, Sam Sam Sammich, the Sam, Sammoth the Mammoth, Sasquatch-"
"Shut it, Trickster." Sam snickered, then regretted it immediately when Gabriel’s attention was dragged straight back to him. Though from the little he’s known of Gabriel, Crowley’s nickname of him seems rather apt.
"Fine, fine, so you’re Sam. I’ve heard… well actually I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, so do share! We have all the time in the world!" Gabriel said, with a wide smirk that made a shiver of fear run down Sam’s spine. He glanced at Crowley and just got an exasperated shake of the head.
"I’ll get us some tea then, shall I? Well, I’ll get us all a hot drink and for my peace of mind, I’ll pretend we’re all civilised and drinking tea," Crowley said with a sneer, walking into the kitchen as he muttered under his breath about yanks and no taste. Really, Sam figured the man should probably let go of some stereotypes, though he’d never actually tell him that to his face.
"How’d you get old grumpy boots to actually like you? I live with the guy and he only tolerates me," Gabriel said, looking genuinely intrigued to the answer and shuffling across the couch to sit nearer to Sam.
"Um… I think he only tolerates me as well," Sam pointed out, smiling weakly and getting a loud laugh out of Gabriel - who was possibly the least angelic person Sam had ever met now that he was thinking about it.
"You think he only tolerates you? Kid, he likes you. Actually, it’s a little scary. Doubt there’s anyone around that’d ever get away with hurting you though, so there is that. Well, enough about Crowley though, what about you? I wasn’t lying, Crowley really needs to learn the finer things points of gossip," Gabriel said, grinning widely when Sam couldn’t help but chuckle, because the man really did have a point.
"I’m… I’m a student here and erm… I met Crowley at work? Where I work at least… I don’t really know where Crowley works… haven’t actually asked. I kinda positive that he’s part of some sort of London crime gang…" Sam added under his breath, and promptly blushed bright red when Crowley placed a mug of coffee in front of him and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, amusement in his eyes.
"Part of the crime scene, eh? Well, don’t wanna be ruining your dreams about me, so I won’t deny that. Gabriel, stop brayin’, your laugh grates on my nerves," Crowley grumbled, slamming a cup of hot chocolate down in front of Gabriel before walking out and returning moments later with his own cup of tea.
"It was amusing! Come on! You do give off the old 'cross me an' I’ll melt your ankulls off wiv a paint strippah an' crush your knackahs wiv this 'ere 'ammah ' vibe," Gabriel said with what Sam could honestly say was the worst London accent he’d ever heard, including the time Dean got hooked on a strange British tv show for a few weeks when they were in a motel that bizarrely got BBC America. That was one time Sam was eager to more on actually.
"Butcher my accent like that again, and I’ll do worst than melt your ankles and crush your knuckles," Crowley warned, though Gabriel just grinned back at him then turned to look at Sam once more.
"So what are you studying, college boy?" Gabriel asked him, and Sam shrugged, looking away and picking up his coffee in a rubbish attempt to hide behind it.
"Pre-law."
"Ooh! Lawyer, huh? Well, Crowley being a mob boss is probably gonna be good for you then! I hear they pay their lawyers really well."
"You heard wrong, one, we have solicitors and two, be threaten 'em into helping us," Crowley said, smirking as he took a sip of tea whilst Gabriel and Sam just blinked at him.
"Well, guess that saves money. Sucks to be you though, Samsquatch." Sam winced at the nickname, unable to stop his nose from wrinkling and making Crowley chuckle. "Don’t like Samsquatch then, huh?"
"Makes me sound like a squash," Sam told him, once more wrinkling his nose before taking a sip of coffee.
"Huh… I was aiming for Sasquatch, but you’re right. Ooh! We can make Samsquatch pie!"
"I’m a little uncomfortable with this conversation," Sam admitted quietly from behind his coffee mug, which given it’s size, was doing a very inadequate job of hiding him.
"Gabriel, shut up. So, Moose, there a real reason you came over here or is your housemate shagging yet another unsuspecting female?" Crowley asked, ignoring Gabriel’s huff of annoyance and looking at Sam instead. Which, of course, meant Sam’s face pretty much set itself on fire with the force of his blush.
"See, that’s an interesting reaction right there. Now I’m really interested in finding out why you came to see old Grumpy Boots here. Do share!" Gabriel exclaimed with a wicked smirk on his face. Sam just shrank back in his chair a little and cursed Janey for putting the damn idea into his head in the first place. And his timing. That pretty much sucked as well.
"No! No, honest! Well, alright, so to be fair, Brady probably is working his way towards getting a new STD - and did I tell you that I had to go with him to the health clinic the other day because he thought he had pubic lice? Yeah, turns out he actually had crabs. Who’d have thought it? Really, though… I have to live with this guy? I spent a good portion of my spare cash to do all my laundry. Apparently a severe case of crabs is not a reason for a room swap, nor is it something to put women off of the guy. It distresses me a little actually. It’s just wrong," Sam muttered, shaking his head and dropping it into his hands. He hadn’t intended on distracting them with a change of topic, but if it worked that way, then Sam certainly wasn’t going to remind them.
"Your roommate has crabs?" Crowley asked dryly, not sounding all too shocked at all, but given he was quite used to Sam’s bitching about the guy by now, it wasn’t all too surprising.
"Well, I dunno, I mean how effective if the treatment? I think they should be gone by now, right? Oh god… what if he sleeps in my bed when I’m not there? Can you get crabs like that? Oh god! What if I’ve got crabs?!" Sam exclaimed, gaze unconsciously shooting to look at his crotch in horror before he looked up when he heard a snicker.
"I think you’d probably know, having little bugs crawling around your balls might be the give away," Gabriel commented lightly, before snickering once more and shaking his head. "Man, I missed out on the whole college thing! I need to sign up!"
"Much as it pains me to say it, Gabriel’s right. You’d probably know if you had crabs. So how long you thinking of staying?" Crowley asked him, having apparently, for once, decided not to pick up on the previous subject of why he was really there. Which was surprising really, given that wasn’t exactly something Crowley was known to do.
"Um… can I sleep on your sofa? I’d rather just avoid Brady for a little bit if that’s alright? I mean, if not, then I can go back and see if he’s er… finished. But yeah… I was wondering if the sofa was free…" Sam mumbled, looking at his hands in his lap, before moving to grab his coffee mug once more and looking at that instead.
"Aw, you mean you won't be sleeping in my bed? Now that is a shame," Gabriel announced, and Sam started to worry that all this blushing would soon become detrimental to his health.
"Gabriel, shut up. Moose, you can sleep in my bed. Can't fault you for not wanting to go back to your dorm," Crowley added with a mildly disgusted look on his face. Sam just gaped at him, unsure of what to say.
"With you?" Pretty sure that wasn't what he meant to say, but it did get the message across. Even if Sam now wished he could disappear.
"I promise not to molest you in the night, Moose, but I ain't giving up my bed for you. I don't like you that much," Crowley told him, rolling his eyes when Sam made a strange squeaky noise and Gabriel snickered into his hot chocolate.
"I um… Really? That's um… okay?" Sam was fairly certain that he was never going to tell Janey about this if only because she'd never let it go and also because, if he didn't tell Crowley about his little crush on the man, then Sam would probably accidentally smother himself in the night. Or kill Crowley. Either one would be unfortunate.
And were sadly highly likely.
Sam vaguely wondered if this was how a victorian bride felt on her wedding night as he lay on the bed with Crowley doing whatever it was he did in the bathroom before bed. Though he imagined that at least in the bride's case, she knew she was gonna get laid and wouldn't get punched/stabbed/knee-capped by admitting she had feelings for her husband.
The case was not the same for Sam. Well, in his mind at least. Sam was admittedly clinging on the shaky hope that maybe Crowley liked him too much to actually kill him. So maybe just severe bodily harm. Maybe Sam could get by with just a small maiming. Alright, maybe not.
"Moose?" Sam felt perfectly justified in the small yelp he gave before falling out of the bed when Crowley sat down on the other side of the bed. Though judging by the amused expression on Crowley's face, the other man possibly felt Sam had overreacted a little.
"Crowley! Hi! Um… sleep, yes? Right. Night?" Sam asked, slowly climbing back onto the bed and quickly covering his legs with the duvet like a startled, blushing virgin.
Which he was, but that wasn't the point. He still looked ridiculous judging by the look on Crowley's face.
"Moose, you feelin' quite alright?" Crowley asked him, actually sounding genuinely concerned, which was normally when Sam felt he should worry about himself and what he'd just done. Because if it made Crowley concerned, then it was very foolish, stupid or strange.
"Me? I'm fine! Completely fine. Why do you ask?" Sam asked, silently wondering if his voice really did sound that high pitched.
"You're twitchier than a whore in confession," Crowley told him dryly, which actually did make Sam stop twitching if only to look at him in confusion.
"Whores go to confession?"
"How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? It's a saying. What I mean is, you're acting even more out of it than normal and I was wondering what's got your knickers in a twist," Crowley grumbled, looking - Sam at least - like he was highly uncomfortable showing concern. Not that he was alone in the discomfort. Sam would be quite willing to forget this whole conversation and just try to go to sleep. "Sam."
"It's nothing! Really! I've just had a couple of things going on in my head and so it's made me a little spacey. Or um… spacier than normal at least," Sam admitted with a shrug, nibbling on his lip as he avoided meeting Crowley's gaze.
"Right. Wanna share with me what it is that you're thinkin' about?"
"Not really?"
"Not the right answer, try again," Crowley told him in a no nonsense tone, and Sam slumped a little in the bed and heaved a sigh, mentally praying that what he was about to admit wouldn't make Crowley cut contact with him.
"See… it's not like important or anything. And well, I'm sure eventually I'll be able to ignore it or something. Maybe I'm just going through this stage or something and it really is nothing. But well, it's not like I can control it and I didn't say anything because I don't want to lose our friendship, it's like the most important thing for me right now. So yeah, I just figured I'd ignore it and it'd go away. But it hasn't yet. And Janey said I should say something before I killed someone accidentally with my spastic ways, but it's hard, you know? So yeah," Sam added with a small sigh, shrugging and playing with the duvet, tangling his fingers in it and avoiding looking up to see Crowley's expression.
"What the bloody fuck did that mean? I got something about our friendship being over because of something you've done. Maybe. I dunno, that was vague at best. Moose, you're gonna have to go into a bit more detail."
"I don't know how without sounding like a prepubescent girl!" Sam admitted in a whine, finally looking up to see that Crowley was looking at him in amusement.
"Try?"
"Fine! I have this stupid crush on you and it won't go away because you're all 'ooh, snark snark' and 'Moose, sneer sneer' and for some reason that turns me on! I mean, I may possibly need some sort of medical help, I don't know! But it's not my fault! It's you! You're just so… so… British!" Sam finally exploded, arms pinwheeling around as he tried to make his point and ignore the look on Crowley's face.
"I'm too British? And because of this, you have a crush on me? I got that right?"
"Pretty much."
"Well… that's… flatterin'. No, wait, that sounds like a shitty answer. Moose, are you even gay?"
"Maybe? Possibly. I mean, I'm fairly certain wanting to jump you on a regular basis makes my card to the straight club become a little suspect, right? So… probably gay. Bi at least. Though… I dunno. Maybe Crowley-sexual. Because I'm not really attracted to any women I've seen… Um…" Sam trailed off, looking up through his fringe to see if Crowley looked like he was about to bash his head in with the bedside lamp. He breathed a tiny sigh of relief when it didn't look like he was. If anything, he looked bemused.
"Well… far be it me to get in the way of your experimentation period of life. You're not exactly hard on the eyes, Kid. So if you wanna find out if your crush on me is just a phase, I'm all up for that. And before you say it, no, it won't ruin our friendship if you decide it really is just a passing curiosity," Crowley added, not for the first time making Sam wonder if the man really could read his mind.
"Oh… so… what now?"
"Now? You stop acting like a victorian virgin and embrace your hormones like any self-respecting teenage male and come over here."
"Now? Really? Like… we're going to have sex now? I mean… not that I'm against sex with you because I'm not but… now? I'm just… I don't… Will we… what… umm… now?" Sam stammered out, though he did do as suggested - told - and moved closer to Crowley, giving a startled yelp when the man then pushed him to lie down and moved to lie over him, smirking down at Sam's startled face.
"Now. And no, we won't go all the way, I don't think you're quite ready for that. Generally speaking, it's probably for the best to work out if you actually are gay before you get someone to shove their cock up your arse. We'll work our way towards that, yeah?" Crowley asked him, smirking when he realised that his words were clearly having an effect on Sam, and really, Sam was beginning to wonder if he was secretly some sort of sexual deviant. Because he was fairly certain Crowley could suggest they do anything right now and Sam would be all up for it.
"Um… work towards… yep. Good. Definitely. Yes! Good!" Sam exclaimed, nodding his head furiously before he Crowley stopped any further rambling by pressing their lips together in a hard, deep kiss, pressing his hips down into Sam's and pushing his tongue into Sam's mouth when he opened with a gasp. Sam's hands scrabbled at Crowley's back before he settled on pressing one into the older man's hair and the other clutching his shoulder.
Sam pulled back moments later, gasping in air and thrusting up into Crowley, hand tightening on his shoulder as Crowley moved to bite and lick at Sam's neck. Sam moaned loudly, then tugged Crowley's hair and pulled him until their lips were touching once more. Sam kissed him deeply, moans and gasps breaking up the kisses as Crowley shifted to lie between Sam's legs, deepening his thrusts and making Sam groan as sparks started to flash behind his eyelids.
Clutching at Crowley's shoulders even tighter, Sam moaned and broke the kiss, throwing his head back and gasping as he felt his climax building. His back practically arched off the bed in pleasure when Crowley shifted once more to bring his hand around Sam's erection and began to bring him to orgasm as he nibbled at the skin behind Sam's neck. A few tugs later and Sam gasped out his orgasm and then slumped into the bed, twitching a little as Crowley thrust into his hip half a dozen more times before he grunted his own climax and then slumped to the side off of Sam.
"That was… awesome," Sam gasped out once he felt he'd be able to speak once more. Crowley chuckled next to him and moved on the bed, getting out seconds later and leaving to go into the en suite, Sam sleepily watched him before his eyes closed sleepily, only the jerk open moments later when Crowley dropped a damp cloth on his stomach. "S'that?"
"Trust me on this, you do not want to wake up with dried come on your stomach. It ain't nice. Now shift over, and we can talk more in the morning if you think you're gonna freak out. Don't do it now, ruins the aftermath of a good orgasm," Crowley mumbled, getting into the bed once more and nudging Sam over a little. Sam just shot him a sleepy smile, wiped at the mess on his stomach - and when did he take his t-shirt off? - Then dropped the cloth over the side of the bed and moved to snuggle into Crowley's side. "Christ, you're a cuddler. Shoulda known. Mention this to anyone and I'll cut your balls off."
"Secrets safe with me. Sleep now," Sam mumbled, nuzzling into Crowley's shoulder a little before finally letting sleep take over, vaguely feeling Crowley chuckle and then pull Sam further into his side.
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