an:/ Thanks for sticking this one out with my, guys. It means a lot. Especially for a ship that's not all that popular on this particular site. I feel like us weird kids were lucky to find each other.

I'm a bit of a sucker for happy endings, hope you don't mind.

Sam came awake like he'd been hit. Eyes going wide as he flinched away, curling up to protect himself from whatever his unconscious mind had decided to perceive as enough of a threat that he needed to not be sleeping. It was almost pitch black in a room that felt very wrong for that fact that it was not his. The bed was wrong. The feel of the blankets were wrong. The way that his legs were dangling off into space, half numb from sleeping so long at such a strange angle. And he was half panicked because he had no idea where the hell he was in those first few seconds. No idea what had woken him. Just that none of this was right.

Slowly, as his eyes adjusted to the pale slash of early morning light that had managed to wedge itself in between the curtains, and he recognized bits and pieces of his surroundings, he felt his brain catch up. He was at Nick's house. This was Nick's bed. Nick's pillow half under Sam's head. Nick's blankets tossed haphazardly over him. And it was Nick that was not there beside him.

Just Sam's cell phone in all that empty space.

It's what had woken him up, and just like it wanted to prove a point, the text message alert went off again, same jarring sound turned up to maximum volume, that had startled him only a few seconds before.

And Sam had fallen asleep with a bristly man over on his side. Not his phone. He was just awake enough to realize that this didn't bode well. Not after everything that they'd said last night.

Uneasily, Sam picked up the phone as it went off for a third time, feeling the bottom of his stomach dropping out.

He read the texts, mouth slowly forming out the words that his brain was refusing to recognize as English and therefore something that he should understand.

Sleep was rubbed from his eyes, and Sam sat up, taking a shaking breath, and reading all those words a second time through without much more luck.

Not willing to acknowledge how he was shaking, Sam set the phone down and ran his hands over his face, up into his hair.

It didn't matter that he'd always been a bit of a morning person, because the clock beside the bed said it wasn't even seven AM yet- it was just the simple fact that Sam had given his heart away, to a complete self sabotaging jackass and coward, was still a hard pill to swallow regardless of the time of day.

He probably spent about half an hour just sitting there, the blood pooling in his legs as they woke with pins and needles, and his head slowly cleared. Cleared enough for him to go from startled, to worried, to sick to his stomach with pain that had no right to manifest so physically, then angry, and finally just settling somewhere in this perfect sea of calm.

He got dressed, stealing a pair of Nick's jeans and the man's favorite t-shirt. If Nick was going to kick him out via text message then he was going to have to be prepared to lose a few important things.

Fully clothed, he felt vaguely more prepared to do what needed to be done, and he was pleased to see that the shaking had left his hands by the time he came back to his phone.

Baby steps.

He could do this.

Just one thing at a time.

Livingroom first, to check under the couch where he knew that Nick liked to hide things. It took a bit of digging, but he found what he was looking for, then he pulled out his phone and got into his recent call history and hit redial. Pressing his phone to his ear, he padded lightly to the kitchen, pulling down the little orange post it note on the table that Nick had left for his daughter.

-had to go to work for a few hours- pizza in the fridge- take dog on walk before tv- love you-

Nick's very deliberate handwriting, leaving a much more tender goodbye than Sam had received.

The phone stopped ringing after what felt like an eternity. "Dean, hey, sorry to wake you but-"

"He's still sleeping." Castiel said in a rather slow and tired voice, rougher than normal.

Sam looked at his phone like he'd never seen one before. "Hi?"

"Do you want me to wake him?"

"Cas... why are you answering Dean's phone?"

"Your brother found out that I've never seen a movie called The Good, The Bad and The Ugly." The man yawned. "We stayed up very late watching it because apparently he did not want to be held accountable for perpetuating such a crime."

"And you stayed the night…" It wasn't a question, he just needed to say it outloud because it didn't make sense just bouncing around in his head.

Another yawn. "Yes." So easy- like there was nothing at all strange about this.

"Cas-" Dean's voice came faintly over the receiver. "Who's that?"

"Your brother." An answer that was followed by some scrambling and a few harsh words.

"Hey," Dean cleared his throat as he reclaimed his phone. "Uh… good morning I guess? What the hell time is it?"

"Almost eight."

"The fuck is so important that you're waking me up on my day off at eight in the- my baby? Is she ok? I swear to god, I only let you take her because you needed to get laid and-"

"The car's fine." He didn't know if he should be relieved at the rapid return to normalcy, or offended that Dean thought that Sam could possibly be dumb enough to let something happen to the Impala. "I um… I need to know how to make pancakes."

Which stopped Dean right in his tracks. A few moments of silence as his big brother's sleep addled brain caught up, then just warm chuckling. "Sammy, you dog. Making her breakfast and everything. Ok. Ok, here's what you're going to need-"

.:.

It wasn't like Sam had never had a fight. Throwing down with Dean happened every few months since they'd hit puberty. It was simply part of their life. They'd rub each other wrong, someone would say something stupid, and one of them would take an inevitably well deserved swing at the other. It didn't really matter who started it, because it always ended the same way.

When it was all over, no matter what else, they were still brothers.

Nothing else that happened could possibly change that.

They would always be brothers.

Fighting With Nick couldn't guarantee the same kind of permanence once they got to the other end of things.

The two of them simply didn't have the same kind of history to promise anything even half as dependable.

Last night Sam had doubted himself. Maybe he knew how to argue. He knew how to fight. But doing it with Nick had been horrifying in a unique new way. Sam had done the best he could, but honestly? He knew that he'd misstepped. Left out a word. Missed some cue. Knew it as clearly as he knew that he'd woken up alone.

That was last night though.

And this morning his mind was clear enough to remember that in reality he hadn't had anything to lose for quite some time now. So really, holding back and watching what he said was just a waste of time.

Even still, when he found himself standing outside of the tattoo shop, that flutter of hesitation came back.

The little neon sign in the front window was dark. The door was locked. There were no cars on the street other than one in the fifteen minute parking outside the coffee shop next door. Too early on a Saturday morning for anyone to be out yet. Well, almost.

Sam was still out here- though he seemed to be the only one. He rapped his knuckles against the glass door but didn't see any stir of movement in the dark shadowy insides of the shop. And it was always possible that Nick could be hiding somewhere in the far back, recognizing Sam's silhouette pressed between sunlight and tinted glass. But after a few minutes of just standing out there on the sidewalk that was already too hot for so early in the morning, Sam considered the fact that he was an ass for coming here. Lying to himself in a blind kind of hope.

What exactly had he hoped to achieve?

If they talked then they would have just ended up saying all the same things that they'd said last night. Maybe they would have even tried some variation if the mood struck them. But it wouldn't change anything

Wouldn't change the fact that Nick didn't want this.

Not Sam per se.

He'd made it quite clear that he was still interested in the younger man on multiple levels (some of which were a little more physical than emotional). Nick just didn't want the apparently imminent, unavoidable end to their relationship that he seemed so convinced was looming on the horizon.

Which was a little too pessimistic in Sam's opinion. But then again, that was just sort of Nick in a nutshell.

With a sudden and rather stunning streak of stupidity, Sam pulled out his phone and called the man who'd obviously lied in the note to his daughter about where he was headed this morning. And as surprising as it may have been, Nick didn't answer. Acting almost like a rational adult, Sam did not then throw his phone, or yell at it or anything.

He did stand there, leaning up against a closed tattoo shop, with the sharp edge of his cell phone pressed to his forehead while he tried to rack his brain for the next great plan that he could throw himself headlong into.

Not willing to just give up (because it would only give some credence to Nick's dismal outlook on things between them- which was something that Sam flatly refused to do), he tried giving Castiel a call.

And unlike his miserable brother, the accountant actually answered.

"Hello again, Sam." Just as cheerful as he'd been an hour ago. Apparently he was a morning person.

"Hey, uh-"

"Did she like the pancakes?" Castiel asked almost eagerly.

"I'm not as good a cook as Dean, but June didn't complain." The memory of the overly enthusiastic breakfast they'd shared coaxed a little smile out of Sam. "But I didn't call about the pancakes, Cas. I… if your brother was going to suddenly have some kind of emotional panic attack and then run away… where would he go?"

For a few fragile breaths, Castiel didn't say anything. Then came a muffled, "excuse me for a moment. I need to speak with your brother privately." Which was followed by some disbelieving laughter from Dean and some kind of half heard reply, then Cas was back with a measured sigh and an almost accusatory, "You two are such an unbelievable mess."

"It's not my fault this time." Sam closed his eyes. "If I had any say in this we'd still be in bed kissing."

"Still?"

"We had fight last night. A real one, with yelling and everything."

"And then you ended up in bed kissing?" Castiel honestly sounded baffled as to how one could lead to the other.

"It happens sometimes." It was weird enough talking to another person about this, the fact that he was standing on an empty stretch of sidewalk didn't make it any less strange. "Just… he was gone when I woke up, and now I can't find him. He didn't go to work like he'd told June and I need to talk to him, Cas. Please. Do you know where he might have gone?"

"Sam, " Castiel simply sounded pained now, like he was fighting back a terrible headache. "I would love nothing more than to see my brother happy for once- but I can't in good conscious let you keep doing this to yourself. You're a very nice person. You should consider saving yourself before he drags you down with him."

With a bitter kind of laugh Sam just shook his head, not even caring that the other man couldn't see it. "He bought me a ring, Cas… like, a wedding ring... and I really just… I just need to talk to him."

It got kind of quiet, and he had to look at his phone to make sure that the call hadn't been dropped. The little counter in the corned was still going, even if no one was talking.

Someone came out of the coffee shop next door and got into the only car on the street. They drove off and then Sam got to enjoy another stretch of silence that seemed to go on forever.

"Did you tell him no?" Castiel's rough voice was fairly jarring after such a pause.

"He didn't ask." Sam swallowed kind of thickly. "Just told me what a mistake it was to have even tried. Said he didn't want to give me a chance to change my mind about him. Said that he wished we'd never been introduced, and could I please not come around any more." Which was a brutal paraphrasing of the text that he'd received this morning, and it oddly hadn't been any easier to hear himself say outloud than it had been to read.

The sound that came down the phone line was half a comfort that you'd give an injured child, and half a rather blasphemous kind of curse directed towards someone who wasn't there to appreciate the weight it had coming from Castiel. The feeling passed, or was shoved down into whatever pit that the man kept all the brewing frustration that he must have for his brothers, and he huffed before asking, "would you have told him no?"

The street was empty other than Sam, leaning against a darkened storefront, awkward, but he'd been awkward all his life and it was nothing new.

The tshirt he'd stolen that morning was a little tight though the shoulders. There were keys and a wallet jammed rather tightly together in his front pocket, because all the others had holes in them. And then there was the rather poignant weight of a ring on finger that had never worn jewelry before.

He turned his face up to the cloudless sky, blinking a little too fast. "If he'd actually asked me instead of just telling me how stupid we both are for even considering… I- I don't… no. I wouldn't have told him no."

Wouldn't have necessarily said yes either. But it's not like he'd been given a chance. Just kind of blindsided by an offer more like a half remembered dream, and not an actual, tangible thing that was ever meant for him to touch or keep. No options here. Just a whole lot of no one getting to be happy because apparently that's where they were going to end up anyways and why not just cut out the middle man?

"Has he always been like this?" Which sounded like such a simple question, except what Sam was really asking was, is there any chance he's going to change?

"As long as I've known him he's been a miserable, self sabotaging ass-butt who honestly seems terrified of anything that could possibly be mistaken for happiness-" Castiel caught himself and sounded almost guilty as he added on, "except for this past New Years through the end of February. Sam… let me call around for you. I will see if I can't find where he's gone."

"Thanks, Cas." And he meant it.

Coming here had been a weak plan to begin with. Finding the shop closed had sort of thwarted all his good intentions. It was almost comforting to know that he still had some backup out there. Moral support if nothing else.

With a sigh so deep that it hurt his chest, Sam let his feet carry him to the coffee shop. Maybe something to drink would help to ease those chocolate chip pancakes that suddenly weren't setting so well with him.

He'd been in here a handful of times since November (though he hadn't had a reason to come by for a few months now). It didn't look any different than he remembered, except for the girl behind the counter. She was new, which was probably for the best because she couldn't link Sam to the grumpy faced man who owned the place next door.

"Can I get a… just a mint tea, please?" And he was rather happy to be here alone because it meant that he didn't have anyone to judge his drink order.

The girl, who apparently didn't feel inclined for a nametag, smiled up at Sam with a cheery "No problem," as she took the slightly crumpled five that he held out to her. "Rough night last night?"

Sam took his change and just dumped it into the tip jar. "What?"

She shrugged and got out a paper cup, filling it with hot water. "You just have that 'woke up on the wrong side of … someone's bed' look to you."

His smile felt a little tight. Normally baristas weren't so… accusatory before they'd even said hello. And it's not like he was offended, just a little disappointed that it was so noticeable to even a complete stranger. "That obvious?"

With another grin she tossed two tea bags into his cup and snapped a lid into place. "Must just have been a full moon or something last night. Everyone who's come in this morning looks worse for the wear." She nodded to the little patio that they had out through the side door, two little tables and a handful of mismatched chairs, and one lonely looking man. "One of our regulars. He came stumbling in an hour ago. Four coffees and I think half a pack of cigarettes so far. I don't think he's hung over, but he's definitely in it in a bad way." Little sympathetic sigh. "I don't have the heart to tell him he can't smoke out there, but once we get start getting the morning crowd in I'm going to have to tell him off."

Remotely, Sam was aware of her words, but just kind of on the peripheral of things, because the man out there smoking was unmistakably Nick. The familiar slump of his shoulders and the way that his hair was a little extra messed up on one side, like he'd spent the night with his head on someone's chest.

"Here you go…"

Sam blinked and looked back at the girl behind the counter who had probably been trying to hand him his tea for a little while now. "Thanks… uh, does he seem angry, or just upset?"

"Who?" She cocked her head, but then seemed to notice Sam's gaze flicking back out through the windows. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's a lot nicer than he looks. Really sweet guy. He won't give me any trouble."

Which threw Sam off for a second, until he realized that she thought he meant that Nick might be difficult to kick out when other more civilized customers started showing up.

"I… I know. I'm actually a friend of his. Came out here to see him, but he wasn't next door."

Her thumbs hooked on the front of her apron as she considered Sam. "Maybe you can go try to cheer him up? I hate seeing him like this, but all I can really do is keep refilling his coffee."

Sam tried not to laugh. He would have bet money on his currently inability to cheer Nick up, but telling this nice girl as much wasn't going to help. "I'll see what I can do?"

This offer pleased her and she grinned up at him once more. "Just a second. Here, take these." And two blueberry muffins went onto a plate that she passed over the counter to him. "On the house."

And muffins seemed like fairly insubstantial armor to Sam, but it was still better than going out empty handed.

With grim determination, he nudged open the patio door and the lingering scent of coffee was replaced with the sharp, honey warm smell of clove cigarettes.

"I know, I know I'm a big dumb jerk." Nick was telling his phone in a rather defeated kind of way. He was pitched forward, practically face down in his coffee, a thin trail of smoke curling from the corners of his mouth. "But I'm also your big brother, and you don't get to tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing, Cassy... No… no… look, you know that I love you, but kindly get bent." And he tossed the phone down onto the metal table top with jarring clatter.

"Maybe no one told you," Sam started, hardly more than a whisper, and Nick's head whipped up so fast he must have hurt something. "But California state laws actually prohibit smoking in and around all public buildings."

Smoke trailed from Nick's nose, and Sam couldn't help himself from thinking that the man looked like a cartoon bull snorting steam. It was the only hint of any kind of emotion on the man's face. So very blank otherwise.

"It's considered a health hazard." Sam added as he set the offering of muffins down beside Nick's elbow. "Secondhand smoke and all."

The man slowly raised the long black cigarette to his lips and took a drag. The fine tremor in his hand only gave him away a touch as he ran two fingers over his lower lip. Quiet nervous lines of his body that'd never been all that good at hiding.

"That's my shirt."

"They're your pants too."

Nick's eyes narrowed and he took another drag, the cigarette pinched between his thumb and first finger. "Why?" The question crawled from his mouth like a living thing.

"Because my clothes are still sandy from the beach yesterday, and coming here naked seemed a little too forward."

"That's dirty pool," Nick's tongue flicked out for a second and a familiar heat crept into his lingering gaze, "so… you're not planning on letting me get out of this with any kind of dignity intact, are you?"

Doing his best to ignore the way that his brain seemed so very focused on the way that they'd returned so easily to their same positions as the night before. Nick all guarded and sitting while Sam had the higher ground and not a damn idea of what to do with it. "Did you really think I was going to let you dump me via text message?"

The cigarette got put out into Nick's mostly empty coffee cup with a sharp hiss. "Would you mind, I don't know, maybe not standing over me so… mouth level? It's really hard to pay attention to what you're saying."

Sam smiled, but it felt tight.

He pulled out a chair and set himself down, but it felt like a dare. "I don't accept your break up."

"First off, we broke up back at the end of February, you're way past the time frame for an appeal. Second, it's not a proposition. You don't get to 'yes' or 'no' here, darlin'."

"There was never anything official." Sam argued, not entirely sure if they were at a point of negotiations or what was happening, but they were talking and it was better than not. But at the same time, he actually had no idea what to say now, so he picked up his tea and took a sip. "You weren't at work."

Nick was looking at Sam's hands, curled around the cardboard cup, dwarfing it so easily. "I had planned to get some work done… but I was in such a hurry to leave this morning, I forgot my keys."

There was a small effort, not to laugh, really, Sam did try. He just failed.

Then Nick reached out and touched his fingers so lightly to Sam's and whatever laughter that had started coming from the younger man stumbled into a whimper and he hated himself for it.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me?" Nick didn't sound all that much better, ragged kind of whisper as his thumb nail caught on the edge of the ring that Sam had stolen that morning.

"I thought it completed the outfit." He squared his shoulders as best as he could because whatever higher ground that he'd come in here with had eroded quickly. "You don't think so?"

"It's not yours."

Sam leaned in a little, as defiant as he could get without begging. "Anything I'm wearing that belongs to you, you're welcome to take off me."

In a seemingly unconscious gesture, Nick ran his thumb slowly along the edge of the thin, gold band. "I told you last night. We're not doing that anymore."

"Now my memory seems a bit foggy, but did you decide that before or after you pushed me down on your bed and kissed me on the mouth?"

Something almost like a smile passed over Nick's face. "You're not making this easy for me."

"Good. I didn't want to."

Nick's hand fell away and he leaned back in his chair, turning his face and chest to the sun, closing his eyes. "This wasn't ever going to work. It wasn't supposed to, Sam. We literally planned for it to fall apart from the first day we met. Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because I love you."

With a curl of his lip Nick grunted at Sam's confession and seemed otherwise fairly unimpressed.

"Because you're my friend and I'd miss your big dumb face."

"Friend?" Nick's teeth flashed for a second. "We're practically strangers, darlin'."

As much as it pained him, Sam really couldn't argue, mainly because he knew that any objection he had would be shot down so easily because that's simply the mood that Nick was in.

They had only started spending time together in the first place because they wanted to breakup and make their brother's regret ever introducing them. It actually was a little hard to argue with when Sam thought about it that way.

"You know what?" If there was a worse reason to form a friendship with someone, he couldn't think of it. "You're right."

Nick snorted out an almost laugh, but refused to open his eyes. Leaving himself spread out, open like an offering to the sky, like he hoped that the sun would just finish burning him up.

"We started this whole thing off on the wrong foot." Sam stood and that got the other man's attention, the line of his mouth going sour, but his head stayed half turned away.

"Hi." Sam said in his most confident voice.

Another aborted laugh caught in Nick's throat. "Hi."

"My name's Sam. Do you mind if I sit here?"

And that worked even better. Nick sat up and looked at Sam with a curious expression. "What are you doing?"

"Introducing myself. Obviously we did it wrong last time around. So, let's try it again- Hi. I'm Sam." He held a hand out expectantly.

Nick looked at him like he'd gone crazy, squinting with mistrust at the whole offer.

Sam just stood there, hand out, waiting, feeling his resolve weakening with each tightly strung second that passed- but then the other man's hand slid into his, warm and solid.

"Nick Surley." He may have held Sam's hand a little longer than would have been considered socially acceptable for the little scene they were playing out- but there were no complaints forthcoming. He stole up the younger man's tea, probably to give him something new and less awkward to hold onto, and then nodded to the chair that Sam had just left.

And so he sat back down for what felt like the first time- and without much protest, Sam watched the man drink about half his tea.

"So… you come here often?"

With a jerk of his shoulders, Nick suffered down a laugh. "Are you hitting on me, sir?"

"Maybe." It was too hard to keep a straight face and Sam just let his smile grow.

"We just met." Nick gave back the tea, his eyes bright even though he was rather stubbornly holding onto his glower.

"I move fast."

"No you don't."

"You don't know that." Sam took a sip of his drink and tried to convince himself that it was mostly just his imagination that the edge of the cup tasted a little like ash.

"Sir, that is a ring on your finger and I'm not sure if I feel comfortable being on the receiving end of the advances of a married man."

Nick was weaseling his way out even still and Sam was slightly impressed by the sheer stubbornness of this man.

"We're separated." He decided on an answer that was honest but still perpetuated this little game.

"That's unfortunate." Nick stole his cup again and sighed before taking another drink. "Other than little old ladies in England, who freaking drinks mint tea?"

"People who had too many chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast."

"Ah." He tried to sound casual, but the smile curving over his lips couldn't quite be hidden all the way behind the edge of the cup.

"You know… I was standing in there for way too long, just looking at you out here all alone, trying to get up the courage to come out and talk to you."

Nick pressed the edge of the cup to his mouth again, though he didn't take a drink. Nervously playing with his lip and trying to hide it. "That's… kind of sweet and creepy. Thank you."

Sam ignored the accusation with a smile and an oddly grateful kind of feeling that he'd chosen to come in his sandals from the day before. He hooked his mostly bare foot around Nick's ankle and gave the other man quite a start. And there was no way to make this offer without feeling every inch like a middle schooler, but Nick already knew that Sam tended to get a little lost midway through these half assed plans. "So, I was thinking, if you're free, maybe you and I could…?"

Eyebrows raising just a hint, mouth still cradling the lip of the paper cup. "We could what?" Muffled and uneasy, and Nick knew exactly what Sam was getting at, but still wanted to fight it every last step.

"We could... go out."

"Go out?" Nick teased the word making it sound dirty, then he just shook his head, chuckling. "Sorry, but I'm busy tonight."

As 'NO's went, it was considerably more gentle than the last one that he'd given Sam. But this wasn't last night, and Sam wasn't worried about making things worse, because they'd already said goodbye.

He kept pushing- saying the first words to hit his tongue. "I didn't mean for tonight."

"Busy tomorrow night too."

"I mean for the next six years,"

Nick choked on his ill gotten tea.

It was immensely satisfying to watch.

Sam picked at one of the muffins, pulling out a blueberry and smiling as he watched his friend struggling to pull himself back together.

"Excuse me?"

"Six years- give or take a few weeks."

Nick started laughing, but it sounded a bit high and panicked.

"No, see, I've got you all figured. If I try and tell you that the first time I saw you I thought 'now here's a guy who shouldn't be alone'. That I've felt homesick since the day I met you. Or that even now I can't stop looking at your mouth. And that there will always be a part of my brain that, when I'm with you, is completely devoted to assessing all nearby load bearing surfaces for the best one to push you up against and kiss you and… and just kiss you until you stop arguing with me." Sam shook his head, clearing it of those distracting thoughts. "Anything I can think to tell you, I've already said to you- and you just get this look and tell me that I'll get over it."

Nick had that look right now. "It does sound like you've got it all worked out."

"But if I tell you that I kind of liked having the company and that I looked forward to you distracting me from my school work- you can't argue with that."

"No...I can't." So uneasy. "But where the hell is this six years coming from?"

"I've got one more year until I graduate. Then two more years for my law degree. A year as an intern, and then I figure I'm going to be a nobody at some law firm for at least another couple years, and Nick- that's a lot of stress. I'm going to be too busy with classes and cases to look for anyone else. And you can't argue with that either."

The struggle was rather visible on Nick's face. Eyes dark and more than a little confused. The line of his mouth gone uncertain.

"You aren't going to let yourself believe anything sentimental or passionate that I can tell you. So here's the logical offer. I can promise you for the next six years I'm not going to have the time, energy, or desire to look for anyone else. For convenience sake, because you won't let me have anything else, let me keep you for the next few years."

The cup got set down which mean that Nick's hands ended up in fists on the table top. He looked pretty much everywhere other than at Sam. It started with a sharp breath, a few half words that never really got started, then Nick ran his hands over his face and just kept them there for a few seconds too long. When he came up for air he seemed to have a better handle on himself.

"And what happens at the end of those six years?"

"Well, by my calculations, that will put your daughter at about sixteen- so you will probably be in need of a good defense lawyer when you get arrested for either the assault and or murder of whatever boy she brings home."

The pained noise that caught in Nick's throat like a death rattle could never be mistaken for a laugh- though the smile he wore sort of confused things.

"I figure when we get there I can either bail you out and provide proper defense in court- or if you manage to keep yourself out of prison, we can reassess our lives and I can make another completely stupid offer that you'll ho and hum over before finally taking and we'll agree to stay together until the next arbitrary mile marker and then we'll do this again."

"For how long?"

Sam surprised himself with a laugh. "Until you give up."

Carefully, Nick repeated his words, though he didn't give them much sound, just kind of mouthing them over again as he studied Sam's face like he'd never seen it before.

"Until you take this ring off my finger, and then you ask me to take it back from you."

The instant he said it, Sam realized that he'd probably overstepped himself. Shown a little too much teeth and Nick was liable to get defensive all over again. But the other man still had that stunned kind of look. Too lost to know what direction to run in this time.

Nothing to lose… right?

Sam held a hand out to Nick for the second time that morning, "Ok?"

The man looked at Sam's hand like it might hurt him. "What kind of an offer is this?"

"One that I'm hoping is so flawed and badly thought out that you'll just feel bad for me and stop saying no."

"I… I've never really trusted tomorrow, and you're asking me for two thousand of them."

"Yes." He kept his hand out in the space between them. "I am. I'm asking you to help me out for the next six years, because I know that if I say it any other way that your commitment issues are going to get in the way."

"I don't have commitment issues."

Sam refused to smile. "Then what do you say? You free for the next few years?"

Nick didn't take his hand.

Not like he was supposed.

You're supposed shake on a deal.

But the man caught his hand like they were two kids about to run away together. Their fingers knotting and palms pressing together.

Nick got this soft, wiry kind of smile that went well his his laugh. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok."

As promises and confessions of love went, it wasn't exactly stirring or romantic.

It wasn't perfect.

But it was... ok.

And seeing as neither of them were all that romantic, and neither had ever even once come close to perfect, it actually worked out rather well for them.